Chapter Text
“May I have this dance~?” A languid voice spoke gently into Chuuya’s ear, behind him.
Chuuya spun around with fury glowing in his eyes. That, at the very least, had sparked both curiosity and disgust from Chuuya. The question had certainly caught the mafioso off guard. But at the same time, it didn’t. The way, in both youth and adulthood, Dazai manipulated his words to his supposed benefit should have been enough proof to ‘justify’ what question had been asked.
Chuuya had found himself pouting, crossing his legs in front of him defensively as he looked up to the overlooking detective.
Did he want to dance with Dazai? Not particularly. Not necessarily. Not all the time. Only sometimes. Maybe this just this one time.
“What the hell do you think you’re asking?” He whispered sharply.
With a twitching eye, he pushed himself off the chair he had been sitting on, being unable to make eye contact with the opposer. After licking his lips once, he placed his gloved palm in front of him, grunting. “Sure, why not,” he grumbled.
Chuuya despisingly witnessed a small smirk played at the detective’s lips, his sienna hues sparkling as his eyes narrowed just a bit. “Why wouldn’t I ask, Chuuya~?” he drawled in a teasing tone, face practically lighting up as the mafioso took his hand in the end.
Gently, Dazai’s fingers took a firm and steady grasp on the gloved hand, tugging the executive closer to his own body. Hoisting their joined hands up, the detective took Chuuya’s other hand and propped it up on his shoulder, before placing his own free hand upon the redhead’s slim hip.
“After all, it would be quite a shame not to be able to get a dance with the most beautiful person in the room.”
Refusing to give Dazai the benefit of the doubt, evidently tied into refusing to meet the gaze, once more, of the detective. This was a public event, and if it had been anything but, Chuuya wouldn’t have had second thoughts about punching Dazai in the face. Due to certain expectations he had as a Mafia Executive, he knew it would be disruptive in the worst way to inflict any sort of harm onto Dazai as of that moment.
That being said, seeing as this was a public event, and due to those expectations he had to uphold, Chuuya knew that if he refused Dazai’s request, it would end up in getting himself publicly humiliated by him. As of dancing with him wasn’t humiliating enough.
Inwardly, he knew it had nothing to do with beauty, but nonetheless, Chuuya’s face brightened up with a red flare of embarrassment. He was so internally flustered that he practically missed how Dazai’s face lit up when their fingers interlocked for dance. He hated this so much and he wanted this to stop.
To hear Dazai call him, ‘beautiful’, was not uncommon. Nonetheless, it affected him. Typically, he would hide his face in his hair or in his hands, but in this situation, he had been stuck. He opted to just avoid eye contact as a whole with Dazai.
“Can you not fucking call me that?” he pondered aloud as he recovered his composure. Taking a deep breath, he looked up to meet Dazai’s gaze once again. “Because I’m not beautiful.” Undoubtedly, he spoke that last part with a pout, because he knew that he was.