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The light of the setting sun filtering through the windows always hit Chuuya just right. Chuuya’s hair, spilling over one shoulder and partially covering his face, glowed with orange and red and gold, as rich as the sunset outside.
Dazai reached up and pushed Chuuya’s hair back. Chuuya grinned, leaning close enough that if Dazai lifted his head, their lips would touch. Dazai did lift his head, but Chuuya pulled back.
“I’ll be right back,” he murmured.
“Tease,” Dazai laughed.
Chuuya climbed off him. Dazai watched him retreat into the bathroom, already feeling the sweat start to cool on his body. Chuuya had only been gone for seconds and Dazai wanted him to come back.
Gentle touch was a foreign concept to both of them.
Dazai never understood an affectionate touch. Training came with hurt, and fists, and when he and Chuuya tried to understand the strange feelings that threaded through their partnership, their touches were desperate and rough. Neither of them knew how to process what they were to each other. So they didn’t, and Dazai pushed Chuuya away.
He had always thought of Chuuya as different. Chuuya could feel more, could care more, was probably the most human person Dazai knew aside from Oda in the Port Mafia. But after leaving the Mafia for the ADA and seeing Chuuya four years later, Dazai realized what he couldn’t before. They came from the same cesspit of hell. Chuuya had adapted better, but he fumbled along just as much as Dazai.
The difference was that Chuuya allowed himself to feel. And Dazai just pushed it all away until he didn’t know how to get it back.
Saving Yokohama and having to partner up with Chuuya again was a strange experience. Dazai felt both like he was eighteen and like he and Chuuya were absolute strangers. When Chuuya said, “you haven't changed a bit” Dazai didn’t correct him, but the statement felt wrong.
Dazai wasn’t a good man, but he was a better one. He had changed. Something had shifted.
He wasn’t an open wound anymore. He was healing.
Chuuya seemed to realize this the more they worked together. The stakes got higher, and Dazai found himself faced with uncomfortable truths and possibilities. They could die. Chuuya could die.
For the first time in years he felt fear when, after a joint Port Mafia and ADA strategy meeting, Chuuya pulled Dazai aside.
“It’s bad,” he'd said. Dazai nodded. They all knew it. The Rats were succeeding more than failing. Chuuya’s face looked sickly pale under the florescent lights of the hallway. The bruises under his eyes had grown darker.
Dazai never would have guessed what he said next.
“If I need to use Corruption without you there, I’ll do it.”
For a moment, Dazai could only stare. His throat closed as he took in Chuuya’s expression. Chuuya’s eyes were hard as diamonds, his mouth set in a thin line. He didn’t look away.
He had made up his mind completely.
Dazai laughed. “You idiot. You can’t use it without me.”
“Actually, I can,” Chuuya said. “It’s my Ability, not y-”
Dazai shoved Chuuya against the wall, fake smile disappearing. “You can’t be this stupid, Chuuya. You will die. You know that.”
“If the city is on the line, I don’t care.”
“You care. You’ve never wanted to die.”
“This isn’t about what I want.”
Dazai had the sudden urge to get away as fast as possible. Looking at Chuuya’s face made his skin crawl. He stepped away. “Do what you want, then. The city won’t miss you.”
He started walking away when Chuuya called after him, “but you will.”
Dazai froze. Without turning around, he forced a laugh. “As if. You’ve never been anything but a stubborn, stupid thorn in my side who doesn’t know when to move on. The only reason we have to work together is your Ability, and with that gone, I’ll finally be completely free of the Port Mafia.”
“Right,” Chuuya said, so soft that Dazai almost didn’t hear him.
Dazai turned, expecting to see Chuuya walking away or struggling to hold back tears. Instead, Chuuya was still standing there, a strange smile on his face.
“You never remember that I know you inside out, too,” Chuuya said. “You hate me for that, but I know what this means. You’re just as much of an idiot as I am. You’re angry. Because I promised I wouldn’t use it without you.”
“Not true,” Dazai said. His voice sounded weak.
“You never liked losing things,” Chuuya said. “But you lose them anyway.” He turned and walked away.
Dazai felt like the ground had dropped out from underneath him. His head filled with static.
All this time, he’d insisted that Chuuya was the one who had stayed the same.
But Chuuya had changed, too.
Chuuya wouldn’t let Dazai hold him back. Not anymore.
It was terrifying.
Dazai was used to getting what he wanted, and getting people to do what he wanted. To have Chuuya refuse him like that shook him to his core. He didn’t have control anymore. He couldn’t predict what Chuuya would do and when he would do it. Part of him wanted to push Chuuya away completely after that. Screw the city and screw the war. Dazai needed to protect himself.
But he’d learned how to do things for the greater good. He couldn’t act like the eighteen year old boy who put up a wall between himself and anything that scared him.
A horrifying realization came to him in the moments after Chuuya left him standing there, in the hallway.
Dazai cared.
And he found that he couldn’t just ignore it like he had before.
Now, Dazai was glad that he hadn’t. Chuuya returned from the bathroom and threw a towel onto Dazai’s face, startling him out of his thoughts.
“Clean yourself up,” he said. “If I had my way I’d ask you to shower, too, but I know how lazy you get after sex.”
Dazai smirked and cleaned himself up as best he could. “Shower sex doesn’t sound half bad, now that you mention it…”
“I don’t want that,” Chuuya murmured.
“Hmm?” Dazai glanced up. Chuuya ran a hand through his hair, face slightly red, and Dazai came to a realization. “Oh. Does Chuuya want to cuddle?”
“Shut up.”
“How could I say no?” Dazai threw the towel on the floor. Chuuya’s eye twitched, but the annoyance melted from his face when Dazai grabbed Chuuya’s hand and tugged him onto the bed.
Chuuya lay his head down on the pillow, facing Dazai. Dazai realized that they didn’t really take these quiet moments, and this was probably why Chuuya wanted to do nothing but lay in bed with Dazai and just be. They spent years running and never learned how to slow down and relax.
A strand of red hair stuck to Chuuya’s cheek, and Dazai reached out to tuck it behind his ear. Chuuya’s lips curved into a smile, a rare kind of smile that Dazai still wasn’t used to.
Chuuya’s smiles, unlike Dazai’s, were almost always genuine, but they were rarely gentle. Chuuya had that strange feral grin of excitement right before a fight, or the smirk he wore when he teased Dazai physically or with words, or that satisfied smile after a job well done. But this smile was soft around the edges, fond. A smile just for this private moment, Dazai thought.
He took the time to really look at Chuuya’s face. He didn’t think he had done that before. He’d always had it in the back of his head that he couldn’t have Chuuya like this. But now Chuuya was here, wanting to do nothing but be with him. Dazai cupped his hand under Chuuya’s chin, feeling Chuuya’s breath catch as he did so.
Their eyes met.
Dazai used to hate Chuuya’s eyes. No one else around had eyes like him, so Chuuya’s eyes were the ones that stuck with Dazai the most. And Chuuya, being Chuuya, showed so much emotion through his eyes alone. Dazai used to think about the color of Chuuya’s eyes a lot. They were clear, sky blue when Chuuya was fighting, or when he laughed, or when he was relaxed. They turned a darker shade of blue when he was angry or upset, and Dazai couldn’t really compare it to anything at all.
Chuuya’s eyes pierced through Dazai, too, in a way that no one else’s could. Like Chuuya was seeing Dazai in his entirety, past the carefully constructed persona he displayed to everyone, but he didn’t have any bad intentions despite seeing this.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Dazai murmured, tracing a finger along Chuuya’s jawline and further down his neck. He paused above Chuuya’s pulse point, feeling how Chuuya’s pulse sped up at the touch.
Chuuya’s eyes widened.
Dazai smirked. He threaded his fingers through Chuuya’s hair. “Remember when I used to play with your hair and you’d fall asleep? I wonder if it would work now?”
“It would,” Chuuya said.
“Huh.” Dazai didn’t actually want Chuuya to fall asleep. Not yet. He allowed his fingers to brush against Chuuya’s collarbone, then lower.
Chuuya’s torso was littered with scars, which wasn’t uncommon for someone in the Mafia. Chuuya didn’t seem to mind them, and Dazai had to admire him for that. He covered his own scars in bandages and couldn’t stand anyone but Chuuya looking at them.
Ducking his head, Dazai pressed his lips to Chuuya’s toned stomach. He felt Chuuya’s muscles twitch as Dazai trailed his kisses lower. He dragged his index finger along Chuuya’s hip bone, and then worked his way lower.
“D-Dazai?” Chuuya stuttered.
Dazai brushed his lips against Chuuya’s inner thigh, one hand coming to rest on Chuuya’s thigh. He could feel the hard muscle there, the result of years of training and fighting. With a single movement, Chuuya could kick Dazai straight through a wall.
Dazai ran his hand over Chuuya’s thigh, and murmured, “I never told you how much I love this.”
“This?” Chuuya repeated. “What are you doing?”
“Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” Dazai said. “There’s so much power hidden in you. Your body is so efficient. Lithe muscles, a compact frame-”
“Short?” Chuuya’s voice held a dangerous edge.
“No,” Dazai held back a laugh. “It almost seems impossible that you contain so much. Bursting with energy. I always wondered how.”
He felt Chuuya’s hands start to work through his hair, his fingers gentle as he played with the strands.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Chuuya said.
Sometimes Chuuya could be frustratingly unaware. Dazai wasn’t sure he could put into words how he felt about Chuuya’s body. He had spent years admiring the elegance in the way Chuuya moved. No action was wasted. Chuuya fought with the fluidity of an expert ballet dancer, and each time Dazai was happy to watch the performance.
He moved like this even when he wasn’t fighting. The way Chuuya walked, shoulders back, head held high, confidence in each step. The way he expressed himself through his body, how he gestured often when he talked, especially when he got excited, or put his hands on his hips when he got annoyed. Chuuya was an expert in melding body language seamlessly with his words and emotions, and he didn’t even know it.
His face, too, changed constantly. Dazai could get lost in watching every change, subtle or not, in Chuuya whenever he expressed himself. Now, Chuuya had relaxed, but Dazai could sense the slight tension in his muscles. The way Chuuya’s hands played with Dazai’s hair dispelled some nervous energy, but it was also, Dazai thought, Chuuya’s way of showing how much he wanted to show Dazai some form of affection. Neither of them were great at affection, and Chuuya wasn’t great with words, but touch he could do and do well.
Dazai pushed himself up, noting the pink high on Chuuya’s cheeks and the way Chuuya’s eyes followed his every movement, brows drawn slightly together in confusion, lips quirked in a slight smile. Dazai took one of Chuuya’s hands, holding it between them, and turned it over.
He ran his fingers over Chuuya’s palm, and Chuuya shuddered. Chuuya’s hands were small in Dazai’s own, the skin warm against Dazai’s. Chuuya always felt warm somehow. The gloves Chuuya wore so often kept his hands from becoming too rough, but they weren’t unmarked.
When Dazai turned Chuuya’s hand palm down, he saw the scarring on Chuuya’s knuckles. Bruising followed the network of veins traveling across the back of his hand and down towards his arm, although the bruises were fading.
Chuuya created black holes with these hands.
“Does it hurt?” Dazai asked.
“No,” Chuuya said.
Dazai brought Chuuya’s hand to his mouth and trailed kisses along the bruises. Chuuya’s breath caught, but he didn’t pull away. His skin still felt soft, somehow.
Chuuya used his hands to talk. He used his hands to kill. And yet, when he stroked Dazai’s hair or cupped his cheek, his touch was gentle. Chuuya could crush concrete into dust without a second thought but somehow, he knew how to keep his grip from hurting. He knew the fine degrees of touch, and Dazai never felt anything Chuuya didn’t want him to feel when Chuuya’s hands were clutching his own, grabbing his arm, yanking at his tie, gripping Dazai’s hips in the heat of the moment, or when his fingers dug into Dazai’s skin.
Dazai laced his fingers with Chuuya’s and squeezed, locking their hands together. He brought his other hand to Chuuya’s cheek. Chuuya stared at him, questioning, lips slightly parted as if he wanted to ask a question but didn’t quite know what he meant to ask.
Something about that was incredibly endearing.
Dazai smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“I forgot about this,” he said.
“About what?”
“How happy you can make me, just by existing.”
The pink in Chuuya’s cheeks turned red.
“What’s gotten into you, Dazai?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Dazai said. He brought Chuuya’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles, one by one. He kept Chuuya’s hand there so that Chuuya could feel his lips move when he said, “It was good to do this. I want to savor every single thing about you. Chuuya…”
“Dazai?”
Dazai raised his head so he could see Chuuya’s face. “I love you.”
Chuuya’s expression shifted as he sucked in a breath, his eyes becoming bright as they searched Dazai’s face. Dazai knew why Chuuya did that. It came from years of lies and double meanings, a part of their past he had to accept along with the present of them being here, together.
Whatever Chuuya was looking for seemed to satisfy him. His entire face brightened as he smiled, his lips trembling as he brought his other hand up to Dazai’s cheek in a mirror of how Dazai touched him. Dazai felt Chuuya’s fingers curl slightly against his hairline.
Normally, Dazai would break the moment with a joke to dispel the strong emotions, but this time he let it play out. Chuuya took a shaky breath.
He let it out with, “I love you too, Dazai.”
Dazai pressed their heads together. He could feel Chuuya’s breath on his face, uneven as he held back tears. Dazai felt his own smile strain so much that it hurt, not because it was fake but for once because he was bursting at the seams with joy. A smile didn’t seem like enough.
And perhaps he was smiling a bit for himself, too. Perhaps the burn he felt in his eyes wasn’t just because Chuuya accepted this, but because he had at one time thought he couldn’t feel love, let alone express it. That for once, he had made Chuuya cry from happiness.
He ran his thumb under Chuuya’s eye, feeling the tears that meant to fall. Fall and I’ll catch you, Dazai thought. I’m not leaving. But he didn’t say it. He still needed time to say those things. He still couldn’t handle too much at once.
Right now, in this moment, it didn’t matter. He had the feeling that Chuuya knew. Chuuya suddenly let go of Dazai’s hand and threw his arms around Dazai, pulling him closer and tangling their limbs together, pressing tightly against him. He buried his face in Dazai’s shoulder.
Dazai hoped that he too, one day, could act on his emotions like Chuuya did, without hesitation.
He wrapped his arms around Chuuya, allowed himself to trace the line of Chuuya’s spine, memorize the way it gently curved. He wanted to memorize all of Chuuya.
He pressed a kiss to the top of Chuuya’s hair and then rested his chin on Chuuya’s head. They fit together like this, close and comfortable and completely natural. Dazai relaxed into Chuuya’s embrace.
He felt at home. Maybe that was the best thing about Chuuya, if he could pick one.
He felt Chuuya shake against him, and heard a strange muffled sound from Chuuya’s throat. It took a moment for him to realize Chuuya was laughing.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Chuuya managed to choke out. “I’m just happy. I’m so happy, Dazai, that I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Dazai said. “Just stay here.”
Chuuya laughed out loud at that. Dazai loved his laugh, his voice, how well it carried Chuuya’s emotions just like the rest of him.
“I need to-”
Chuuya raised his head and pressed his lips against Dazai’s, kissing him deeply. Dazai kissed back, over and over. Between each kiss, Chuuya whispered Dazai’s name, and Dazai whispered Chuuya’s. They overlapped, almost unintelligible, but Dazai savored the sound of their voices blending together.
When Chuuya relaxed against him again, Dazai for once spoke without thinking. For once, he let himself feel fully, and let the emotion carry words to his lips that he never thought he’d say, let alone genuinely mean.
“I’m happy, Chuuya.”
He felt Chuuya pull him even closer, felt the way Chuuya’s lips curved where they were pressed against his collarbone.
Chuuya didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Despite how they were positioned against each other, Dazai felt like he was being held by Chuuya rather than the other way around. He let himself be held. There was nothing more that he wanted, in this moment, than to be held by Chuuya.
He stroked Chuuya’s hair absently as the last light from the sun faded and dipped the room in darkness. His breaths and Chuuya’s fell into sync, and together they drifted to sleep.