Chapter Text
“This is the fucking worst.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes, pouring his breakfast smoothie from the blender into his stainless steel cup. There was just enough left over, and he purposefully placed the large blender cup on the island counter for Dazai if he felt like nourishing his half-dead body. Though if he were being honest, Chuuya highly doubted his partner would be up for maintaining healthy routines after last night’s dog fiasco.
And maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but Chuuya decided to leave him to it. The bandaged freak got a good high off of punishing himself in these weird, specific ways, and who was Chuuya to tell him to stop? As long as he wasn’t causing serious harm to himself, Dazai could neglect all the breakfast smoothies in the world.
(Of course, Chuuya would never stop offering, but he knew Dazai needed this. A small form of control after an uncontrolled, fucked-up night.)
“If Chuuya is done psychoanalyzing me,” Dazai huffed, slouching over the counter in the center of the kitchen, “he can ask why I’m pouting. Leaving a pouting partner unattended is considered domestic abuse, you know.”
Chuuya scoffed, leaning against the opposite counter as he sipped his smoothie. Dazai claimed a stool and adjusted his dramatic slouching into something a little more comfortable. The two of them stood at a stalemate – Chuuya waiting for Dazai to speak, and Dazai waiting for Chuuya to prompt him – with neither of them willing to budge.
Realizing this, Chuuya sighed, pushing himself to sit on top of the counter. He was in a patient and tenderhearted mood this morning, so he threw his emotionally constipated partner a bone. “What’s with the face, sourpuss?”
Dazai’s grimace sharpened, and he flopped forward even more, resting the side of his face on the countertop. “No need for name-calling,” he grumbled.
Chuuya launched a spoon his way, and Dazai dodged it with an irritated yelp, his eyes burning with amusement.
“Maybe I should call the DVH,” the detective blurted, “since you enjoy beating me up so much! What if that spoon plunged into my eye and squished my precious brain? You could’ve killed me!”
“You’re ridiculous,” Chuuya laughed. “If I wanted you to suffer, then I’d find someone to make the two of us immortal and smother you with love and kindness for the rest of time.”
Dazai gasped, jerking upward with his amber-brown irises open wide. “You are a cruel, cruel man, Nakahara Chuuya!”
“So I’m told,” the executive teased. “Now, c’mon, what’s with the pout?”
Swearing under his breath, Dazai returned to his half-lay, half-slouch on the counter. They migrated back to their stalemate, though this time Chuuya was genuinely confused as to why Dazai insisted on more prompting. Hadn’t Chuuya done his part?
After a bit more silent assessment, realizing that Chuuya wasn’t going to catch on, Dazai whined and forced his mouth open. “Feelings wheel,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut.
Chuuya grinned, putting his smoothie to the side and hopping off the counter. The Feelings Wheel™ was a diagram from a Dialectical Behavior Therapy class that Chuuya and Dazai were forced to attend (courtesy of both Fukuzawa and Mori). The wheel was designed to help people recognize and express their emotions more clearly by sorting them into general categories like "Sadness," "Anger," "Fear," and "Joy," and then further breaking them down into more specific words. Dazai initially referred to it as “lame” and “gay” because of his ridiculous mindset stuck at age fifteen, but after a while, he found it extremely useful when trying to communicate the jumble of emotions swirling around in his genius mind.
Chuuya retrieved the small piece of paper from a miscellaneous drawer beside the fridge and handed it to his partner.
After a bit of studying, Dazai tossed the paper back to Chuuya with a satisfied huff. “Ashamed, embarrassed, and worried.”
Chuuya nodded, impressed, relieved, and confused. “Care to elaborate?”
“No.”
“Seriously?” Chuuya pressed. “Let’s start with the first one. What’re you ashamed about, shithead?”
The shithead in question shrugged.
“Okay, that’s fine,” Chuuya said. “Thanks for letting me know how you’re feeling. Do you plan on going into work today?”
Dazai shook his head. “Nah, probably not,” he muttered. “Kunikida earned himself a day of peace, I suppose.” The embarrassment was flaring up like an allergic reaction all over his body, and he tried and failed to find a better distraction than talking about work. “How about you, chibi? Are you going to work?”
Chuuya checked the time on his phone. “Not for a few hours. Why?”
Dazai smirked. “Then I dare you to call Mori and tell him to shove a handful of broken glass up his ass.”
“Are you trying to get me killed, you little psycho?”
“I may be psychotic,” Dazai declared, “but I am not little. That’s all you, slug.”
“Little in height but not in length, fuckface.”
Dazai choked on his breath as it hitched in his throat, trying to regulate his rising temperature and blood pressure. Chuuya buckled over laughing, holding his stomach to keep himself composed. Say whatever you want about Dazai’s lack of genuine emotions, but Chuuya would never get tired of that flustered, bewildered look on his partner’s face.
When Dazai seemed calm enough, Chuuya flicked his forehead and packed the rest of his smoothie into the fridge. He didn’t have a lot of work waiting for him in his office at the mafia headquarters so he could technically work from home, but he knew Kouyou would demand a semi-stern lecture/interrogation after he ditched their tea time for the second night in a row.
After finishing tidying the kitchen, Chuuya attempted to go get his phone off the charger in his bedroom, but Dazai grabbed the hem of his shirt before he could leave the kitchen.
“What is it?” the executive asked, fighting the urge to cuss out his partner. Dazai’s eyes flicked up to meet Chuuya’s, and he shrugged, attempting nonchalance. It was obvious something was on his mind, he knew that, but the words were jumbled up in his throat like a goddamn hairball. “Do you want to talk about your emotions now, you irritating little fuck?” Chuuya teased. As always, there was fondness in the insult, and that sense of normalcy put Dazai at ease.
Dazai sighed, seemingly accepting his terrible fate of dealing with his emotions like a proper grown-up. “It’s about last night,” he admitted. “With Kunikida. I know you know what happened but… I freaked out in front of him and Aya, and even though you said he was just worried about me, there’s no way he isn’t mad about ending the night on such a shitty note. I mean, I’d be mad if I had to deal with a grown man’s temper tantrum during a romantic picnic. It was supposed to be perfect, but I–”
Chuuya slapped his hand over Dazai’s mouth, cutting the rambling off at the source. “I’m gonna stop you and your ridiculous self-loathing right there,” he said. “If you think Kunikida Doppo, the only other person beside me who has put their life on the line for you without a fraction of hesitation or regret, who has put their trust in you above their own judgment multiple times, who has admired you, cared for you, and saved you from yourself more times than any of us could count – if you think that Kunikida Doppo would be mad about you showing fragment of weakness, then you’re not as much of a genius as everyone says you are.”
Dazai’s shoulders slumped, and if Chuuya looked closely, he could see tears welling up on those honey-brown irises. But I don’t deserve it, his eyes said. I don’t deserve you guys, and I hate that you choose to stay.
“Self-loathing isn’t hot,” Chuuya remarked. “Get your ugly ass up and go take a shower.”
Morphing back into his usually playful self, Dazai stuck out his tongue and slid off the stool. Chuuya was proud to say the smile plastered on his partner’s face was only half fake, which, considering who Dazai was, was a serious accomplishment.
“You love my ugly ass!” Dazai cackled as he skipped down the hallway. “You better tell Mori you’re not going into work today or you’ll never get a piece of it ever again!”
-
A week later, the two halves of Double Black lounged on the couch eating “dinner” – Dazai ate raw crab meat straight out of the can, his long legs stretched across the couch on Chuuya’s lap and a glass of soda-infused lemonade while Chuuya used Dazai’s shins as a makeshift table for his lobster thermidor and fought back the urge to punch his partner in the nose.
Dazai was being petty, (shocker) and if Chuuya was honest, he’d say Dazai earned the right in this situation. Chuuya took Kunikida out to eat during his lunch break every day in the past week and spoiled him with good food, expensive gifts, and easy-going conversation. They had a great time, but Dazai was beyond pissed that he was excluded, especially after the dog-picnic bullshit, which he worked really hard on beforehand. And Chuuya knew how icky Dazai felt about everything going south.
If Chuuya was a fair man, he’d pity Dazai and let him score a few lunch dates with his four-eyed partner.
And while Chuuya truly did love Dazai, he wasn’t a fair man. And he sure as hell was not losing this bet.
So that led them here: planted on the couch with Dazai boycotting Chuuya’s glorious home-cooked meals, and Chuuya chewing his lobster with more force than necessary. He even used bourbon instead of chardonnay for the sauce because he knew Dazai didn’t like chardonnay, but of course that petty, stubborn bitch had his heels dug in the dirt.
The doorbell rang, breaking the tense silence between them. Chuuya sighed heavily and shifted Dazai's legs off his lap, muttering something about how he'd better not have ordered another stupid contraption from one of those late-night infomercials. Dazai merely hummed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling with a distant, dramatic gaze.
When Chuuya opened the door, he was greeted by an enormous display of flowers, so massive that it nearly blocked the entire hallway. Roses, lilies, daisies, and orchids were artfully arranged in a bouquet that seemed almost too grand to be real. The delivery person peeked out from behind the floral monstrosity, offering Chuuya a sheepish smile and a clipboard to sign.
"What the hell...?" Chuuya muttered, scrawling his signature before stepping aside to let the delivery person maneuver the bouquet into the apartment. The flowers were followed by two elegantly wrapped gifts, one marked with Dazai's name and the other with Chuuya's.
Dazai's eyes lit up as he sat up on the couch, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Oh, what's this? Did our dear Kunikida finally decide to confess his undying love for me?"
Chuuya rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of curiosity as he picked up his gift. "This is definitely his style, but you know I’m winning this bet, shithead."
Chuuya's gift was a set of high-end cooking knives, each blade glinting with razor-sharp precision, and Dazai’s was a set of new paints and paintbrushes that had been rotting in his online cart for months – the attention to detail was impressive.
Before they could start planning the wedding, the delivery person cleared their throat, drawing Soukoku’s attention. "Excuse me, there's a letter here from Mr. Kunikida. He asked me to read it aloud to you both."
Chuuya and Dazai exchanged surprised glances as the delivery person unfolded the letter, a look of mild discomfort on their face. They began to read in a steady voice:
"Dear Dazai and Chuuya–”
“Haha, he put my name first!” Dazai cackled. Chuuya elbowed him in the gut to shut him up, waving at the delivery person to keep reading.
“I hope this letter finds you both in good spirits. I wanted to make this gesture special, and I apologize for not delivering this message in person. As you both know, I have a strict schedule for both my work life and my personal life, and I’m extremely busy today. However, I refuse to allow myself to put this off any longer.”
Dazai giggled, tugging Chuuya’s sleeve with childish anticipation. “I’ve got butterflies in my stomach,” he rambled. “This is gonna be so good.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes, playfully shoving Dazai away from him, but the look on his face said it all – the executive was just as giddy.
“The truth is,” the letter continued, “I've been aware of your antics for quite some time. I know you two had some sort of competition going to get my attention, and while I don't know the specifics of it, I’m extremely disappointed in both of you. Chuuya, I hold you to higher standards than this primary school behavior, and Dazai, I’m thoroughly offended that your obnoxious antics spread into the realm of messing with the emotions of other people.”
Dazai frowned, eyebrows pulled together and nose scrunched up. “Goddamn it. I take back what I said. The butterflies are rotting corpses, and Kuni-kun is a stupid poopy-pants.”
Chuuya ignored the dumb comment, which was his way of secretly agreeing. “Is there anything else?” he asked the delivery person. “I mean, the bastard did send us gifts and flowers. He can’t be that mad.”
“There’s more,” they assured. “It says: Nevertheless, I enjoyed the time I spent with both of you and if you’re interested, I’ve cleared my schedule for tomorrow in hopes of having you join me on a day-long date. If you accept, I’ll arrive at Chuuya’s place at exactly ten in the morning tomorrow to pick you up. I expect both of you to be dressed with casual elegance. If you decline, I hope you at least find joy in the gifts I’ve sent. With irritation, patience, and sincerity, Kunikida Doppo.”
The delivery person folded the letter neatly, handed it to Chuuya, and excused themself, practically flying out the door – chances were they recognized Chuuya, or maybe even Dazai, from the mafia and had been waiting for the moment to make a break for it. Either way, Chuuya took the letter with a mixture of shock and amusement, closing the door and following Dazai back into the living room.
Dazai's tacky grin softened into something genuine as he flopped back onto the couch, tossing a piece of crab meat into his mouth. The dazzling array of flowers stared at him from the corner of the room. “What a pathetically interesting mix of sappiness and insecurity,” he chuckled. “Chibi, I’m afraid our only option is to kidnap him.”
“We are not kidnapping Kunikida,” Chuuya scoffed in response, scooting past the coffee table where his cooling dinner settled. He took his spot on the plush cushions, this time invading Dazai’s personal space, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with the idiot genius. Dazai’s smile tripled in size, and he took it upon himself to maneuver them into a position where Chuuya’s back pressed against Dazai’s front and Dazai’s legs stretched out on either side of him.
With unhurried comfort, Dazai snaked his arms around Chuuya’s middle and rested his chin on his shoulder, peaking at the letter. They reread it at least five times before one of them spoke up.
“We’re accepting it, right?” Chuuya clarified. “That’s what you meant with the whole kidnapping thing?”
Dazai snickered, pressing his forehead into the crook of Chuuya’s neck. “Yes, you stupid slug. Has your pea brain finally taken damage after all those years of rattling around in that thick skull?”
“You talk a lot of shit for a guy who’s afraid of emotional intimacy,” Chuuya snorted. “Watch out or I might ask you how you’re feeling, you bandaged freak.”
“Okay, well, after that comment, I’m feeling offended,” he pouted. “Hush up before I pluck out each and every one of your stupid ginger hairs.”
Chuuya’s laughter was quiet and raspy, and when he felt Dazai shiver behind him, it dribbled into a satisfied and confident hum. He considered taking their elated mood to the bedroom, but the thought of removing his clothes reminded him of something painfully important–
“What the fuck does this fucktwat mean by casual elegance?” Chuuya blurted. “I mean, I’ve got my perfect date outfit sealed in that suit bag in my closet, but what the hell are you gonna wear, Mackerel?”
Dazai grimaced, snuggling his whole face into Chuuya’s back. “Chuuyaaaaaaa… I don’t know!” he whined. “We have to go ransack my closet right now. And by ‘we’ I mean you so get those little legs moving and go pick me out something nice to wea–”
Chuuya bolted up, yanking Dazai after him by the wrist and leaving no room for complaints. They spent the next hour digging through the closet in Dazai’s room (the guest bedroom that Dazai claimed as his own, even though he always slept in Chuuya’s bed) and coming up empty-handed. Next, they rifled through Chuuya’s clothes, hoping to maybe find something to dress Dazai in, but alas, nothing came up.
At midnight, the duo took an anxious ride over to Dazai’s dorm provided by the Agency, but that was also a lost cause. Every article of clothing that he liked and fit him had been moved to Chuuya’s place in the past year and a half since they reconnected.
Yet another hour passed, and Dazai flopped onto his flat futon drenched in utter defeat. He wanted to look good – to match Chuuya’s sexy elegance and to show Kunikida that he could be serious about this – but the more he searched, the more he felt like nothing was good enough.
So, following his logical mind’s instructions, he sprawled out like a starfish and pouted so hard that the muscles in his face started aching.
“Your face is hideous,” Chuuya snickered, standing over his melodramatic partner.
“If I can’t find a perfect outfit,” Dazai huffed, “I could at least match my face to your fugly hat.”
Chuuya kicked him and didn’t feel bad about it. Not that he ever does, honestly. Funnily enough, Dazai enjoys the semi-violent consequences of his own taunting actions. (Chuuya is yet to figure out if it’s a psychological thing or a kink thing.)
“C’mon,” the executive huffed, reaching down to grab Dazai’s wrists. Dazai went limp, but Chuuya, being the tiny beast that he was, pulled the stupid bag of bones to his feet without breaking a sweat. “We’re going to find you something nice, so quit bitching before you give me a fucking migraine.”
Begrudgingly, Dazai found his balance and lessened the severity of his pout. He watched Chuuya stuff the hurricane of clothes back into the closet they ransacked and followed him out the door with heavy feet.
“Nothing’s gonna be open,” Dazai muttered. “Chuuya is wasting his time.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Chuuya assured. He used that matter-of-fact tone that Dazai adored, even though it was always more matter than fact.
Still, Dazai decided to play semi-nice and trudge after his little firecracker. They clicked like magnets on the motorcycle and rode through Yokohama, cutting through the quiet streets. The cool night air whipped past them, carrying with it the faint scent of ocean brine from the nearby port. Their search led them down winding backstreets and past shuttered storefronts, each one taunting them with darkened windows and locked doors. They sped past the glittering reflections of ferries docked in the harbor, the water shimmering under the moonlight.
With every turn, their frustration grew. The shops that were open either had nothing suitable for their date or were already picked clean by earlier customers. Chuuya's grip tightened on the handlebars, his patience wearing thin, while Dazai's usually playful demeanor began to wane, replaced by a rare look of determination.
“This date better be the best day of my entire life,” Dazai groaned as they left yet another empty store. The employees wouldn’t be restocking until the next morning before opening again, and as desperate as Dazai was, his promise to Odasaku stopped him from letting Chuuya knock the employee and rob the place.
“Kunikida-kun wouldn’t have it any other way,” Chuuya insisted. “Worst case scenario, we wait around and buy something last minute. He won’t be picking us up until ten, so we’ll have, like, two hours to find you something in the morning.”
“Chuuyaaaaaa,” Dazai whined, “what the hell are we gonna do until eight in the morning? And don’t you dare say fuck unless you wanna bottom!” he snapped. “My ass still hurts from Wednesday.”
Chuuya laughed and pulled Dazai through the parking lot and toward the motorcycle. “You’re such a baby,” he teased. “No, princess, we’re not gonna do that tonight. I don’t need to hear you bitch and moan about being sore while we’re on a date with your hot partner.”
“I have two hot partners,” Dazai declared smugly, “and both of them love to hear me bitch and moan.”
Chuuya punched him (affectionately) and then situated himself back on the bike. Dazai was quick to follow, complaining under his breath. They rode around a little longer, continuing their search, but at around 2:30, they conceded defeat. Chuuya pulled over to the side of the road, parking the motorcycle near a small bar tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. The warm glow from the bar's windows spilled onto the street, inviting them in with the promise of a moment to regroup and (hopefully) a few good drinks, too.
Dazai perked up like a looney tunes at the smell of alcohol and skipped instead, pulling along his “dog” on a metaphorical leash.
As expected, the place was pretty barren. A few stragglers were scattered around here and there, and the bartender was wiping down the counter as the Friday night crowd died down and trickled out. It was cramped inside but not uncomfortable; Dazai was reminded of his favorite place in the world, Lupin, as he observed the yellowish lights and low ceiling. Though, unlike Lupin, this place had a pretty spacious seating area beside the bar counter, and off to the left were two bathrooms separated by gender. (Lupin had a unisex single stall.)
They took seats at the counter, and Dazai was quick to flag down the bartender and order a bourbon whiskey for himself and a scotch for Chuuya. Meanwhile, Chuuya scanned the room, not looking for anything in particular besides maybe some entertainment. He found something way, way better.
It could only be described as the perfect outfit: a dark greyish-green turtleneck, light khaki-colored jeans, and white high-top sneakers. On top of the turtleneck was a grey-brown, vintage leather jacket, and Chuuya was practically drooling thinking about Dazai wearing it. And actually, the more he looked, the more Chuuya realized the owner of the outfit had a shockingly similar build to his bandaged freak.
The freak in question tugged Chuuya’s ear to get his attention and slid him a glass of scotch whiskey to prevent the punch that would’ve come after. Chuuya accepted the drink and kept staring at The Perfect Outfit™, completely oblivious to the horrified look on Dazai’s face.
“It’s not often that I hope to be wrong,” the detective deadpanned, “but tits on Christ, I hope my darling dog isn’t scheming what I think he’s scheming.”
“It’s three in the morning,” Chuuya rebutted. “We have seven hours until our date with Kunikida, and all the good stores won’t open up for another five hours. Desperate times, desperate measures.”
Dazai sighed, pulling a coin from his pocket. “Heads, I’ll do it. Tails, you do it.”
Chuuya nodded and watched in silence as Dazai flipped the coin. It spun through the air, but after a second, it rattled against the wooden countertop with heads down and tails up. The mafioso grinned and stood up with newfound determination. “Honey trap,” Chuuya whispered. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
Before Dazai could whip up a good insult/wish of luck, Chuuya was off, strolling over to The Perfect Outfit™ and its mediocre owner who nursed a drink across the bar. The guy stationed himself in front of a beautiful woman alone in a booth and didn’t seem to catch onto any of the disinterested hints shot at his forehead.
“C’monnn, pretty lady,” the guy slurred, resting his palm on the table and looming over the woman. She clutched her handbag and scowled at him, scooching back into the booth to give herself some space. “You’re wayyyy too beautiful to…” he trailed off for a moment, blinking with intention and adjusting his hand on the table, “…to be drinking alone in the middle of the night, y’know? Why I… why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you a good time, yeah?”
Chuuya sidled up to the man, flashing a charming smile, and once he did, the woman gave him a curious look. “Nakahara-san?” she near muttered.
The executive paused, rummaging through his brain to remember where he had seen this lady from. “Oh, you’re one of Kouyou’s girls, right?” he greeted. “Sorry, I’m bad with names.” He glanced between the guy, the woman, and The Perfect Outfit™, narrowing his eyes at the drunk bastard on the list. “Is this guy bothering you?”
The woman scoffed. “Well, he certainly isn’t pleasant,” she said.
“I’m pleasant in bed,” the guy snickered. “…Like both sex and sleeping. My ex said I never stole the, uh… never stole the blankets.”
“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Chuuya hissed. He nodded politely to the woman and tugged the drunk guy back a little, giving him space to caress his chest. The bar was empty enough for him to just knock the guy out, strip him, and leave, but Chuuya didn’t want to risk tearing the outfit, so he’d have to resort to the honey trap method.
He worked both quickly and subtly, touching and whispering and luring the guy to the bathrooms like a siren to a sailor. The guy wasn’t bad-looking, but the stench of cheap cocktails and hard liquor on his breath was a huge turn-off for Chuuya. The main thing keeping him going was Dazai’s amused stare, sitting on a stool with his back resting against the counter and sipping his rich-tasting bourbon.
In the bathroom, the drunk guy sprang into action, diving at Chuuya’s neck with his mouth. Between the two halves of Double Black, Dazai had always been the better actor, but if it were up to Chuuya, his performance with this bastard should get him an Oscar.
“Fuck, you’re hot,” the guy breathed against his neck. Chuuya could feel the stranger’s thing hardening against his leg, and that’s when the curtains closed. The guy was unconscious in a matter of milliseconds – and Chuuya was careful not to ruin the outfit.
When Dazai arrived a few minutes later, the guy was stripped down to his underwear. “How far did Chuuya take it?” he asked, fighting back the jealousy boiling in the back of his throat.
“Oh shut the hell up,” Chuuya laughed. “He just slobbered on me a bit and then I hit a pressure point to knock him out. Now c’mon and strip, shithead, we don’t have all night.”
Because they were such good samaritans, Dazai and Chuuya left the knocked-out drunk bastard on the floor of the bar’s bathroom and offered to give the beautiful woman a ride home.
She declined, of course, since she knew their identities: Dazai Osamu the former Demon Prodigy and torture specialist, and the mafia executive Nakahara Chuuya with the strongest ability in the country.
But hey, at least they offered.
-
The morning sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon as Chuuya and Dazai, despite their sleepless night, stood side by side in front of Chuuya’s place. They were both dressed to impress, with Dazai in the borrowed attire from the night before, looking absolutely jaw-dropping, and Chuuya in his carefully selected “perfect date” outfit: dark ripped jeans, combat boots, and a black vest over a crisp red button-up. If you asked Dazai, Chuuya looked like sex on legs – elegant sex on legs, but with a bit of an attitude.
In other words, he looked nice.
The quiet of the early morning was broken by the soft hum of an engine. They turned to see a sleek, black limo gliding down the street towards them. As it pulled up in front of them, they exchanged incredulous glances.
Dazai’s eyes widened with a mix of amusement and genuine awe. Kunikida Doppo was a limo guy? Sick.
Chuuya, equally stunned, couldn’t suppress a grin. “What a hot entrance.”
“That’s what she said.”
Chuuya punched him (deserved).
The driver, a random American hired for the occasion, stepped out and walked around to open the back door. Standing there, in the doorway of the limo, was Kunikida. He was dressed in a business casual outfit that struck the perfect balance between professional and welcoming: a tailored blazer, a crisp white shirt with the top button undone, and well-fitted trousers. Soukoku scooped each others’ jaws off the ground as the human champagne glass approached.
Kunikida’s usually stern expression softened as he took in the sight of his two dates. “Good morning, you two,” he greeted, a warm smile playing at his lips. “Glad to see you’re on time.” He looked effortlessly handsome, and the grand gesture of the limo only added to the sense of occasion. How he afforded it with an ADA salary, Dazai and Chuuya had no clue.
Still, there was a flutter of excitement and nervousness at Kunikida’s presence, and Dazai was certain Chuuya felt it too. “Butterflies are back,” he whispered.
The executive grinned at Dazai’s corniness and stepped forward, nodding for him to follow. “You clean up nice, Kunikida-kun. Very nice.”
“Understatement of the century,” Dazai chuckled.
“I could say the same about both of you,” Kunikida replied, obnoxiously humble. Dazai wondered if being a genuinely polite person ever got tiring. It was hot, of course, but Dazai – or anyone else, if he was being honest – could never pull it off the way Kunikida could. “Now, come on. We’ve got a whole day ahead of us.”
The limo glided through the streets of Yokohama, finally pulling up in front of an upscale restaurant. The place was elegant and understated, with large windows that offered a glimpse of the chic interior. As the driver opened the door for them, Kunikida, Dazai, and Chuuya stepped out, looking every bit the part of a trio on a sophisticated outing.
“Brunch first,” Kunikida announced, holding the door open for his partners. “We need to fuel up for the day.”
The restaurant was bright and airy, with a mix of modern and classic decor. They were seated at a table by the window, which offered a beautiful view of the city just waking up. The waitress, a cheerful young woman with a welcoming smile, approached their table.
“Good morning! What can I get you all to drink?” she asked, her eyes lingering a bit too long on Dazai.
Chuuya noticed immediately and shot a sharp look at her. Dazai, ever the observant one, smirked and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll have a caramel iced coffee, extra cream, please,” he said, giving her one of his charming smiles.
“And for you two?” she asked the other two men, though her gaze was still fixed on Dazai.
Kunikida, sensing the tension, quickly intervened. “I’ll have a green tea, and Chuuya here will have a flat white,” he said, his voice firm but polite.
The waitress nodded, jotting down their orders. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
As she walked away, Chuuya’s eyes narrowed. “Did you see that?” he hissed, leaning towards Dazai. “She was totally hitting on you!”
Dazai chuckled, clearly enjoying the jealousy. “Oh, is my doggy getting possessive? How cute.”
Kunikida placed a calming hand on Chuuya’s arm, hoping to stop him from snapping a neck or two. “Let it go. Dazai is just instigating, and that lady is just doing her job.”
Chuuya huffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah, well, she’d better stick to doing her job and not eyeing my shitty partner. I swear to god – it’s probably because his bandages aren’t visible! Now nobody can tell what kind of lunatic he is!”
Dazai continued to tease, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the table and chin on his palm. “I had no idea Chuuya was so protective. He really is like a dog.”
The executive opened his mouth to retort, but Kunikida squeezed his arm gently, reminding him once again to keep his cool. Chuuya was equally as annoyed as he was thankful – and he realized at that moment how attractive Kunikida’s hands were. Was that a thing? Could hands be attractive? Hell, Kunikida never failed to amaze him in even the subtlest of ways.
The waitress returned with their drinks not too long after, and then the trio placed their orders. Dazai, true to his whimsical nature, ordered a stack of pancakes with rainbow sprinkles.
The waitress giggled, playfully resting her hand on his shoulder. “You’re adorable,” she flirted. “I’ll have your food out in just a few minutes.”
Chuuya was fucking seething. “I’m going to kill that skank,” he cursed, “I swear to god I will.”
“Now, now chibi,” Dazai sang. “You have to be good in public or else you’ll get us kicked out.”
Kunikida nodded, though his frustration was evident. “Yes, unfortunately, Dazai’s right. We can’t make a scene.” He trailed off, leaning closer to Chuuya and dropping his voice to a whisper. “Is there a way to dispose of her without anyone noticing? I could make a small dagger for you to use with your ability–”
“Kunikida!” Dazai gasped, fighting back his laughter. “Don’t enable Chuuya’s violent tendencies! If he bites anyone else, I’ll have to have him put down!”
“I’d like to see you fucking try,” Chuuya snarled, kicking him under the table.
Kunikida rolled his eyes, assuring Dazai he was only kidding and whispering something else to the executive while the brunette glanced away.
How Dazai became the sane one between the three of them, even for just a few moments, was beyond human conception.
When the food arrived, Dazai’s eyes lit up at the sight of his pancakes; Chuuya and Kunikida received their respective smoked fish paté and leek tortilla de patata with happy, hungry eyes. The waitress did her final round of flirting with Dazai, and he finally made it clear that he wouldn’t leave his partner(s?) for anyone besides a woman willing to commit a double suicide with him. Safe to say the server backed off after that.
Similar to how their lunch dates functioned, Chuuya and Kunikida fell into a comfortably paced discussion, which Dazai was genuinely thankful for. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t one to enjoy talking for long periods of time. It took a while to communicate to Kunikida that sometimes heartfelt quality time with Dazai was simply sitting beside each other in silence, focused on separate things.
Thankfully, Kunikida understood and caught on quickly, but Dazai could tell he got increasingly understimulated without someone to interact with. Chuuya had been the same way in the beginning, though after seven years, he learned to manage it.
Now, Dazai was absolutely thrilled that the two of them got along so well – he could enjoy quality time with both of them without exhausting himself or boring them to death. There was no obligation for him to speak, and yet he always felt included.
Polyamory was truly a gift from above.
With his partners distracted, Dazai deemed it safe to reach into his pocket and pull out a mini bottle of Jameson black barrel, unscrewing the cap with a flourish. With a devious grin and a tiny cackle, he poured the alcohol over his pancakes.
Kunikida’s eyes widened in horror. “Dazai Osamu, you fucking imbecile! What the hell are you doing?!”
Dazai smiled ear-to-ear, and it nearly cracked his face in half. “It’s an acquired taste, darling. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“You’re a fucking alcoholic!”
“Interventions are supposed to be calm and supportive,” Dazai huffed. “But I’m not an alcoholic, I’m an artist. You shouldn’t believe everything you see online, Kunikida.”
While Chuuya scrambled to hold back his laughter, Kunikida waved the waitress over, who was surprised to see them so soon (especially after the interesting interaction with the suicidal brunette). “Could we please get another order of pancakes?” Kunikida asked with an irritated sigh. “And take these, please,” he requested, gesturing to Dazai’s alcohol-drenched plate. “This lunatic ruined them.”
The waitress nodded, taking the strange-smelling abomination away. Chuuya, who had been watching the exchange with barely contained laughter, finally let it all out. “You are fucking ridiculous, Dazai. Alcohol on pancakes?! That’s bizarre even for you. Where the hell did you get that shit, anyway?”
Dazai winked at him. “You know I like to keep things interesting. Can’t have you guy out-weirding me.”
“Trust me, that’s impossible,” Kunikida sighed, shaking his head. “Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that mind of yours, and then I remember how curiosity ripped the cat to shreds and made the poor thing wish it was never born.”
“How poetic, Kuni-cake. I’m flattered.”
When the new pancakes arrived, Dazai behaved himself, pouring a generous amount of syrup over them. His partners gave relieved satisfied smiles. “Much better.”
After finishing their brunch, the trio made their way back to the waiting limo. The driver, with a polite nod, opened the door, and they settled into the plush seats. The city of Yokohama gradually gave way to more open roads and greener scenery as they drove towards their next destination — a luxury garden an hour away.
Inside the limo, Kunikida pulled out a small remote and turned on the karaoke system built into the vehicle. "Since Dazai insists I never know how to let loose and have fun," he said, grinning at Dazai and Chuuya, “I thought it’d be nice to prove him wrong.”
Dazai’s eyes lit up with mischief. "Oh, this is going to be good. Chuuya, ready to serenade us with your beautiful voice?"
Chuuya rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. "Only if you go first, bandage-waste."
“Nuh-uh,” he cackled. “You gotta do that Carrie Underwood song, chibi! Show Kunikida your skills!”
Begrudgingly, Chuuya took the microphone and dove head first into the song as if he were performing live in front of 100,000 people – because Nakahara Chuuya was physically incapable of doing anything half-assed.
Next, Dazai killed a kobasolo song (as in hit it with a car and killed it along with a single mother nearby and her twelve foster children). Chuuya and Kunikida laughed and dry-heaved, clapping along, encouraging, and begging Dazai to put his over-the-top performance to an end before their eardrums burst.
Kunikida refused to take a turn after Dazai, so Dazai and Chuuya made him the judge of an informal Soukoku sing-off. They did a few duets and screamed as if they were teenagers breaking into concerts (like they did back in the mafia), and all three of them howled with laughter when Kunikida put his whole heart into cheering them on.
By the time they arrived at their next destination, the three of them were in high spirits. Kunikida led the two men into a luxury garden, a sprawling oasis of meticulously maintained flower beds, winding paths, and tranquil water features. It was a feast for the senses, with vibrant colors, fragrant blooms, and the soft sound of water trickling in the background.
Chuuya’s eyes sparkled as he took in the sight. "This place is fucking incredible," he said, almost breathless. "I’ve never seen so many different flowers in one place."
Dazai watched him with a fond smile, enjoying Chuuya’s childlike wonder. Even since they were kids, Chuuya had always been a sucker for pretty flowers. It made the strenuous job of wooing him just the teeniest bit easier, Dazai joked.
As they strolled through the garden, Dazai discreetly lagged behind for a moment, spotting a particularly beautiful orange lily. With a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, he picked the flower and carefully hid it up his sleeve.
Meanwhile, Kunikida was equally captivated by the beauty of the garden, though he felt a tickle in his nose as they passed through a particularly dense area of blooming flowers. He brushed it off at first, but as they continued, his allergies started to flare up.
"Yo, are you good?" Chuuya asked, noticing him rubbing his nose.
Kunikida nodded, though his eyes were starting to water behind his glasses. "I’m fine. Just… the pollen is getting to me a bit."
Chuuya frowned, concerned. "Maybe we should take a break."
Dazai, who had rejoined them, gave Kunikida a teasing look. "Yeah, I don’t wanna deal with your yucky snot. I get enough of that with little baby Atsushi-kun.”
Chuuya elbowed him, scowling. “We can always come back another time," he assured Kunikida. “I mean, if we leave now, then you have to take us another time because I wanna see this place more in-depth. But Dazai’s kinda right. It won’t be as fun if you’re sniffling the whole time.”
Kunikida hesitated, not wanting to cut their visit short, but he could feel his allergies worsening. He tried and failed to put on a tough, irritated look. “Fine,” he said. “I promise we’ll return at a later date. I’ll put it on my calendar.”
As they walked back, Dazai fell into step beside Chuuya and produced the orange lily with a flourish. "For you," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
Chuuya blinked in surprise, then took the flower, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Thanks, baby," he beamed. “You’re such a sweetheart when you want to be. Is it because I treated you like the princess you are on Wednesday?”
Dazai, more flustered than he prepared to be, stumbling over his own foot as he caught his breath. “Don’t make me regret being nice, chibi,” he warned, though it lacked both bark and bite.
Chuuya only laughed, pulling Dazai down by his collar to peck him on the lips. “Whatever you say, Osamu.”
Kunikida, despite his discomfort, smiled at the interaction. Chuuya didn’t even know he was watching. "You two never cease to amaze me," he said softly. “But Dazai, next time you want to get your partner a gift, you should buy it instead of stealing.”
While Chuuya mentally squealed about the insinuation of indirect partnership for the second time in the past month, Dazai sported a devious smile. “I’d hardly count that as stealing,” he declared. “I think you’re just jealous because you didn’t get one.”
“Considering the fact that I forgot to take my allergy medication,” Kunikida retorted, “I’d consider that a threat on my life.”
“Pfft–” Dazai laughed, “and they call me dramatic? You’re fantastic, Kuni-kun.”
The limo continued along smoothly down a winding road, leaving the city behind as they ventured deeper into the countryside. The sun was beginning to dip, casting a warm glow over the landscape, and the three men relaxed in the plush seats, the morning's excitement still fresh in their minds.
After a while, the limo came to a stop near a secluded area surrounded by dense trees. The driver stepped out and opened the door for them, revealing a path that led to a private lake. The water sparkled under the setting sunlight, a pristine oasis hidden away from the world.
“Welcome to our final stop,” Kunikida announced with a satisfied smile. “I pulled a few strings to get us some privacy here, so I hope it’s to your liking. The cabin over there has a decent-sized buffet inside, so whenever you’re craving dinner, just say the word.”
Dazai raised an eyebrow, his genius activating. “This place is fancy. How’d you convince Ranpo to get Poe to pay off the owners?”
Kunikida pursed his lips. “Light-hearted bribery isn’t a crime, I don’t think. And the owners are on vacation in Aruba anyway, so we have the whole place to ourselves.”
Chuuya grinned at the sight of the lake. “I don’t give a damn where the owners are. I’m not passing up skinny dipping in a perfect place like this.”
“As entertaining as that would be,” Kunikida said, “I brought bathing suits. It’s better to be safe than sorry when it comes to swimming.” He opened the trunk of the limo, revealing neatly packed swim shorts for all three of them, along with a few extra rolls of bandages for Dazai. “For after you dry off,” he said, “since I know you like to wear those things even in the water.”
Dazai took the bathing suit and bandages with a soft smile. “Watch it, partner,” he teased. “Thinking ahead is my thing.”
They found a small, secluded spot by the edge of the lake to change, and once they were all ready, they waded into the water. Dazai was the first to fully submerge, blowing out extra air from his mouth to make a storm of bubbles. He swirled around Kunikida and Chuuya, who took a little longer to enjoy/get used to the chilliness, and opted to float on his back, staring up at the clear blue sky.
“This is amazing,” Chuuya said, sinking down to get his shoulders wet. “You really outdid yourself this time, Kunikida.”
Kunikida smiled, following the executive’s lead. “I took inspiration from you and our beloved lunatic, so I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he said. “Ah, speaking of Dazai– Dazai? Dazai!”
“I’m right here!” Dazai chirped, waving his arms around. He was pretty far out on the lake, definitely past the point of having his feet touch the ground. “There’s a big fish over here, guys! I’m gonna name him Jared!”
“That’s… great, I guess. Just make sure to stay where we can see you,” Kunikida called. “The lake is connected to a pretty rough river, and I’d rather not end the night with CPR.”
Dazai waved a hand dismissively, padding a little closer so he didn’t have to yell. “No worries. After two years of being my partner, you should know by now that I only attempt suicide when I feel alone. Now come here and help me find this fish!”
Chuuya and Kunikida exchanged a glance, letting the words sink in. Obviously, Dazai didn’t register how emotionally charged it was at first, else he wouldn’t have said it, but it dawned on him when he and Jared the Fish didn’t get a response.
“C’mon, he doesn’t bite!” Dazai insisted. “He’s cute, I promise! Hurry up, slowpokes!”
Without saying anything, Chuuya bolted through across the lake and practically tackled Dazai underwater, crashing into him with his arms wrapped around his partner’s bandaged middle. Kunikida arrived only a moment later, pulling the both of them into a hug.
“You guys are weird,” Dazai huffed, but his usual mask of nonchalance had melted away. He replayed his words in his mind and cringed, sinking into the arms holding him in the water. “No need to be so sappy about it. Just take the compliment and move on.”
“You better shut up and enjoy the moment before I make you drown,” Chuuya seethed albeit playfully.
Kunikida nodded. “I’ll help hide the body.”
“Careful, guys, I might pop a boner if you keep it up–” Chuuya dunked his head underwater before he could finish (affectionately, of course).
When he came back up, it was with bubbling laughter. “Wait, before I meet my end,” he gasped dramatically, “we are official now, right? The three of us, I mean.”
Chuuya and Kunikida exchanged looks, once again following the same parallel thought process. “Is that… a thing?” the blonde asked, a touch of uncertainty in his voice.
Chuuya’s jaw dropped halfway to hell, and he almost fainted in the lake. “You mean to tell me you took two men out on a date without knowing if throuples were a thing?”
“To be fair, my ideals book doesn’t say anything about having multiple partners!” Kunikida blurted out, his face turning a vivid shade of red. “This is new territory for me.”
“Okay, fine,” Chuuya mumbled, tugging at his leather choker. “It’s new for me too, but I’m down if you’re down. Dazai?”
“I will get on my hands and knees and beg for it,” he declared.
Chuuya snorted. “You do that anyway, you slut.”
“OKAYYY… I CHANGED MY MIND!” Dazai screamed, his flusteredness painfully obvious. “YOU GUYS ARE THE WORST AND ACTUALLY I’M GOING TO GO FIND THAT RIVER–”
“To answer your question,” Kunikida cut in, grabbing Dazai’s wrist before he could hop on his temper tantrum train, “yes, we’re official.”
A wave of giddy excitement washed over the trio, their new title settling comfortably around them. They let the water gently lap around their bodies, the serene surroundings amplifying the quiet comfort of the moment. The golden hues of the sunset reflected on the lake’s surface, casting a warm, ethereal light over them.
Eventually, the tranquil moment gave way to war. Dazai, with a sly grin, began splashing like a maniac, sending water flying in all directions, and Chuuya and Kunikida retaliated with equal fervor, their laughter echoing across the lake. It was a battle for the history books, the water glistening like tiny jewels in the fading sunlight.
Their playful antics continued until they were all breathless, floating together in the calm after the storm. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a final, fiery glow over the landscape. Reluctantly, they made their way back to the shore to dry off, change into their clothes, and have something to eat.
“We should do this more often,” Chuuya insisted as they piled back into the limo, stomachs full. Even Dazai, who often avoided meals for whatever reason, had stuffed his face in the cabin. “Seriously, this was a lot of fun. Maybe I should buy this property. What do you guys think?”
Kunikida nodded. “It’d be a good investment if you could convince the dusty bigots to sell.”
Choking out a laugh, Dazai kicked his feet up on Chuuya’s lap and rested his head on Kunikida’s thighs, sprawling out across the cushions. “Chibi has a talent for getting what he wants,” Dazai said. “I’d make room in your schedule for a few long weekend trips to the lake.”
“You won’t hear any complaints from me,” Kunikida assured.
“So now what’s the plan?” Dazai yawned. “Whose house are we crashing at?”
Chuuya rolled his eyes, leaning over to flick Dazai’s forehead. “Is that even a question? You guys are poor compared to me. Glasses, you give the driver the address. We’re having a movie night sleepover.”
As the limo pulled up in front of Chuuya’s apartment, Chuuya, Kunikida, and Dazai stepped out, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of the streetlights. With easy smiles and shared glances, they took the elevator up and retreated into the final act of the play. The night felt strangely magical (in a very queer way, not a psychedelic way, but still just as enjoyable).
Chuuya unlocked the door and led them into his apartment. "Come on in. Dazai needs to take his night-time meds before we turn in for the night."
Kunikida hesitated at the threshold, glancing around the dimly lit entryway. "I should probably head home. It’s been a long day, and you two could use some alone time."
Dazai, already rummaging through a cabinet for his medication, turned and frowned. "Nonsense, Kunikida. You’re not going anywhere."
Chuuya nodded firmly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah, stay with us. Dazai will cry if you don’t."
Dazai nodded enthusiastically, a grin spreading across his face as he prepared to whip out his fake tears. "I’ll be absolutely inconsolable," he declared.
Kunikida’s reluctance melted into a genuine smile, though he tried to play it off with thinly veiled annoyance. "Alright, alright. I’ll stay. But just so you know, Dazai’s tears have never and will never be a deal-breaker for me. I adore you even if you can be inconsolable sometimes."
Dazai bookmarked the sentiment for some other time and focused on settling into the living room, helping Chuuya spread out a large futon on the floor. Kunikida browsed the stacks of old movies from the shelf beside the TV, while Chuuya shooed Dazai off to go dim the lights and retrieve some junk food to snack on.
As the first movie started, they all snuggled up on the futon, Kunikida in the middle with Dazai and Chuuya on either side. The warmth of their bodies and the soft flicker of the screen created a serene, intimate setting, though there wasn’t a second of peace between the laughter and commentary.
When the second movie ended, Chuuya cleared his throat, sitting up a bit to glance at Dazai, suggesting they revisit the conversation. Dazai agreed and got into a more serious position, sitting criss-cross-applesauce in a little triangle once Kunikida followed his lead.
“Is something wrong?” Kunikida asked.
“No, Dazai and I just wanted to clear something up,” Chuuya assured.
“It’s about the bet,” Dazai chimed in. Kunikida frowned.
“Look, we just want to be as transparent as possible to avoid any bullshit in the future,” Chuuya continued. “It started a few weeks ago when you came in to yell at Dazai about fucking with the kids’ hair.”
“Yeah, Chuuya thought you were super sexy and immediately developed a crush as soon as you left,” Dazai teased.
The executive scoffed. “As if you hadn’t been pining over him for a literal year.”
“Chuuya! I told you that in confidence!”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Kunikida cut in. “We are dating, correct?”
Dazai huffed. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
“Anyway,” Chuuya explained, “We made a bet to see which one of us could get you to third base first.”
Kunikida raised an eyebrow, both confused and unimpressed.
“A blowjob,” Dazai supplied with a sly grin.
“Ah.”
“Correct.”
“ANYWAY,” Chuuya snapped, “Even with the bet, we still really like you. I do, at least. I can’t speak for Dazai, but I can say he put a lot of effort into planning that picnic date. He went out of his way twice to get a hold of Hitomi-san and Aya-chan which was miles out of his comfort zone. Don’t let his goofy face convince you otherwise.”
“Okay, can we please not talk about the picnic disaster?” Dazai groaned.
“I said it once and I’ll say it a million more times for you to get it,” Kunikida chuckled, “it was not a disaster. I had a good time, and so did Aya-chan. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Yeah, shithead,” Chuuya taunted. “You’ll put me out of a job.”
After shoving the ginger with half-assed irritation, Dazai turned to Kunikida and offered his sweetest smile. “Chibi is right. We do like you. But just because you know about the bet doesn’t mean I’m giving up. As soon as you’re ready for a blow, hit me up. I’m winning this even if it’s the last thing I do.”
Chuuya snickered as Kunikida raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You’re both insufferable, you know that?" he grumbled. Despite his words, his eyes softened, and he couldn't hide the affection in his gaze. "But I appreciate your honesty, I suppose."
As the night wore on, the movie played in the background, its plot forgotten as they basked in each other’s company. The room was filled with the soft glow of the screen, casting gentle shadows that danced on the walls.
Eventually, the fatigue from the day’s adventures caught up with them. Chuuya yawned, stretching out his limbs. "Alright, enough talking. Unless you two want me to get fired, I need to sleep."
Dazai and Kunikida nodded in agreement, humming and yawning as they each found a comfortable position on the futon. This time, Chuuya settled in the middle with Dazai’s head on his chest, legs tangled together, and Kunikida’s arms wrapped around both of them, pulling them closer.
The next morning, Dazai woke up to the faint aroma of coffee and the soft sounds of conversation drifting from the kitchen. He blinked his eyes open, the early morning light filtering through the curtains, and stretched languidly on the futon, taking a moment to savor the comfort and warmth before sitting up.
From his vantage point, he could see Kunikida and Chuuya in the kitchen, moving around with an easy familiarity. Kunikida was at the stove, flipping French toast with a precision that made Dazai giddy. Chuuya was at the counter, chopping fruit with swift, practiced movements. They were talking, their voices low and amiable, punctuated by the occasional chuckle.
Dazai watched them for a moment, numb and then… surprised, startled, shocked… happy, interested, curious… peaceful, thankful, and… loving.
All hail the Feelings Wheel.
All jokes aside, there was something profoundly heartwarming about seeing them like this — two of the most important people in his life, getting along so well. He could almost hear Odasaku’s voice in his head, gently teasing him about finally finding some semblance of peace in a world he swore was nothing but ugly, soul-sucking choas.
He wished, more than anything, that he could tell Odasaku about Chuuya and Kunikida. About Atsushi, and Ranpo, and the whole Agency. About all the good he’d done – and all the good other people had done for him. He had so much to say, so much that Odasaku deserved to hear as they chatted over whiskey, held up only by bar stools and mile-long sentences.
Eventually, but not yet. Not yet, Osamu. Not yet.
With a sigh, Dazai pushed himself up from the futon, the lingering warmth of sleep giving way to the cooler air of the morning.
Staying around a couple more years wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, he thought. Odasaku had always been a patient man.