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More than anything, Chuuya hates being touched like this.
There's an overwhelming wave of sickness surging through his body as Dazai's nullification ability starts to kick in, rendering him weak and helpless. Chuuya feels like he's drowning in the blinding emptiness, he feels like he's suffocating, and gasps for air.
When he snaps out of it, there is a hand on his throat, thumb soothingly caressing his jugular. The skin to skin contact makes him shiver and he hears a laughter. A mocking laughter he knows so well.
Chuuya hates this laughter even more than these touches.
"Get your fucking hands off of me," he mutters. He's not drowning anymore yet he still feels the emptiness gnawing him away from the inside out. He has lost. No matter what he does, he always loses.
"No," Dazai says. "I won, so I can do as I please."
His smile makes the blood in Chuuya's veins run cold. Dazai doesn't look intimidating — he's too thin to be strong, too careless to be frightening.
Well, it seems like the mask of a careless idiot he hides behind has grown on him, Chuuya thinks. Yet, beneath this new mask he can see a glimpse of the old one, a glimpse of the worn broken mask with a chipped paint and a slight cover of dust. That's the mask of the monster whom Chuuya used to trust with his life.
The grip on his throat tightens, making him swallow.
"All these years and nothing has changed," Dazai says tauntingly and Chuuya shivers, feeling his warm breath brushing against his neck.
Chuckling, Dazai leans closer, lips barely touching Chuuya's ear as he whispers, "All these years and you haven't changed at all."
It takes all Chuuya's self-restraint to keep his face calm.
"Look who's talking," he replies, trying to pretend he's not affected by Dazai's closeness.
An impish glint in brown eyes tells him that his efforts are futile. Well, the bastard has always been observant, particularly when it comes to Chuuya.
"You haven't changed either and you won't change no matter how long you gonna pretend otherwise." With these words Chuuya finally shoves him away, none too gently. Smile fading, Dazai ends up sprawled on his ass on the floor.
Chuuya nearly staggers as the weight of his ability returns to him like a blow. It takes him a moment to get himself together. The skin on his neck still tingles where Dazai's fingers had been mere seconds prior.
"Get the fuck out," he snaps.
"Don't be so rude, Chuuya," Dazai says. "Why don't we celebrate the truce? Let's have a drink, you and I. Just like in old good times."
Chuuya clenches his fists till they hurt.
"Huh?! After breaking into my apartment you have the nerve to ask me for a drink?"
"I hope you have a decent whiskey," Dazai says as he gets back on his feet.
"Get the fuck out," Chuuya repeats, feeling his nails digging deep into his palms. Maybe he shouldn't take his gloves off even when at home.
Dazai stares at his face, as if trying to decipher something from its expression. Chuuya doesn't move, doesn't look away. He just stands there, waiting.
After a while Dazai sighs before starting to take steps toward the entry door. Once he's on the doorstep, he pauses and glances back over his shoulder at Chuuya.
"On the second thought I won't say no to a wine, you know," he says, voice calm.
"Get the fuck out, Dazai," Chuuya says. "Get the fuck out and don't ever think of coming back."
With a quiet snort Dazai opens his mouth to say something, but Chuuya's already closing the door in his face.
Even through the door, he can hear Dazai's laughter. Oh, how he hates this laughter, this mocking and cruel laughter. It always makes him feel completely and utterly worthless.
Chuuya clenches his fists once again, squeezes his eyes shut and counts to ten, pushing down the anger that tries to overcome his senses and make him forget himself. The last thing Chuuya needs is to tear apart his apartment.
Ten seconds later he opens his eyes. Forces himself to exhales slowly, forces himself to relax, forces his fists to unclench and starts towards the bathroom, wanting to wash away the feeling of Dazai's fingers on his skin.
"Some days I hate you so much it's unbearable", Chuuya mutters as he turns on the water, adjusting it till it is almost too hot to bear. And yet, no amount of hot water can help him to get rid of the ice he feels inside.
Chuuya presses his palm against the tile wall. Fortunately, it is only the tile that cracks and not the wall itself.
***
Naturally, Dazai doesn't listen to him.
Well, Dazai never listens to anybody, so this shouldn't come as surprise.
"Hiya," Dazai says as he appears in the window, lips curling into an irritating smile.
For the record: Chuuya's apartment is located on the thirteenth floor.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Chuuya asks.
Dazai leaps over the windowsill with an ease that speaks of long practice. He straightens, smoothes the folds of his coat and looks at Chuuya with a smirk in his eyes. His long bandaged arms dangle out of his broad sleeves like straws out of a lemonade glass.
"Are you so nice to all your guest or am I just an exception?" he asks, in that special tone that makes Chuuya long to knock his teeth out. And break his jaw to shut him up for good.
"You are an exceptional bastard," Chuuya growls. "You aren't a guest. My guests tend to enter through the door."
"Whether through the door or through the window, it makes no difference as long as I'm welcomed."
"The day I welcome you into my apartment is the day hell freezes over."
Dazai rolls his eyes, dismissing Chuuya's reply.
"Yet, here I am. By the way, you should definitely work on your hospitality skills. I would say they leave much to be desired."
"My hospitality skills?!" Chuuya repeats, disbelief coloring his voice. "Are you fucking kidding me? What hospitality are you talking about? You shouldn't be here in the first place."
"Yet, here I am," Dazai repeats, sounding much like a broken record.
"Nobody invited you in."
A pause. Then, "Nobody indeed."
"Tell me why you are here and get the fuck out."
Chuuya should be proud of his self-control — three sentences were all it took for him to give in to his temper last time. Today he stays calm. At least for now.
Dazai sighs.
"Look, despite what you may believe, I didn't come here to start a fight," he says. "I didn't want it last time either. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything about your hat but seriously Chuuya it is so hideous that I..." Dazai cuts off as he catches Chuuya's gaze, then clears his throat before continuing, "That's not really the point, though. I wanted to discuss something entirely different."
Oh, Chuuya knows that voice, and he knows it well. Suddenly he's so overwhelmed with an eerie sense of déjà vu that he loses all his anger. He feels like he's sixteen, and is being dragged to another suicide mission by Dazai.
Speaking of Dazai. He is oddly quiet. This pause he takes would make any drama queen blush with envy.
"Spit it out," Chuuya finally says, well aware that Dazai waits precisely for those words. "Dazai, if you try to drag this out any longer, I swear I'm gonna snap your neck."
He almost adds 'with my bare hands', but then remembers how much he hates skin to skin contact and puts his hands deeper in his pockets.
"Well, I remembered I owe you a date."
"A what?" Chuuya asks, disbelief thick in his voice. He has to fight hard to keep his expression neutral yet he is pretty sure he fails.
A date? Hilarious. Chuuya scoffs at the mere thought yet he feels his chest tightening.
"Well, a date. You know, it's when two individuals who harbor some feelings for each other make themselves look respectable — so please forget about that ugly hat of yours, I don't want to be seen in public with a hatrack — and go out so they can spend time together."
"And you think I'd wanna be seen with a mackerel?" Chuuya snaps back automatically and pauses as the full meaning of Dazai's words hits him like a blow. "What the fuck are you talking about?!"
Chuuya prefers to disregard the 'feelings' part because he isn't sure he'll be able to keep his composure if he starts discussing whatever feelings he may or may not 'harbor' towards his ex-partner. The last thing he wants or needs is to show Dazai anything beyond hate or irritation and make a fool of himself.
"What do you think about going out for dinner? I know a nice place. Or we could go to a theater though I highly doubt you will be able to fully appreciate its cultural worth. You are the type who prefers more simple-minded enjoyments like mainstream films or maybe even B-movies aren't you? I also could take you to the pier for a walk. I've heard that normal people do that when on dates. Maybe we could go check the docks?"
Chuuya feels his throat tighten. Never has he wanted for Dazai to stop speaking as much as he wants it now, never.
Stop it, he thinks, shut up, that's enough. He bites his lower lip, trying to keep the words from falling from his mouth.
Stop it, he thinks. Stop meddling with my affairs, stop throwing me off the track, stop coming here when I've just learned to live without waiting for you to come.
Stop touching me, he begs silently. I hate your touches that mean so much to me and so little to you.
Stop mocking me. Do you have nothing better to do?
Chuuya wishes he could say it out loud.
"Dazai," he says instead, danger seeping into his voice.
"Or better not," Dazai continues, undisturbed. "That would bring too many unwanted memories. At the end of the day people like us go to the pier not for romantic purposes but because of the necessity to get rid of dead bodies--"
"Dazai!" Chuuya growls, cutting him off. "Cut the crap and get to the point already."
A red glow shrouds his body as he feels anger rising in his throat. Perhaps he shouldn't have praised his self-control because now it's gone without a trace. It takes five minutes for Dazai to make him lose his temper. Chuuya didn't want to damage his apartment, but now it doesn't matter anymore. Now he wants to destroy this place, to take the whole building down with Dazai in it. Though for someone who constantly brags about wanting to die, Dazai is strangely hard to kill. Maybe he's like a cat with having nine lives.
"While I like seeing you so overexcited chibi," Dazai says, "what do you think will happen to the truce if I'm found dead in your apartment?"
"Do I look like a give a shit about the truce?" Chuuya growls.
"Why Chuuya I'm so flattered to know I affect you enough to make you do something that stupid. But again, you've never been the brightest one…"
Chuuya grits his teeth so hard he's pretty sure they start to crumble. He feels his jaw vibrate.
When Dazai finally believes that Chuuya is being serious and uses his ability to stop him, the apartment lies in ruins. There's a fist sized hole in the wall, the furniture is nicked and scratched, the upholstery on the couch is torn up, and the counter is cracked right down the center. The floor is covered with cracks and breaks as if after an earthquake.
And, as many times before, there's a hand on Chuuya's neck, fingers dangerously close to his jugular, thumb caressing the skin just beneath the rapidly quickening pulse point.
I'm so tired, Chuuya thinks. Dazai was right, nothing has changed. I've lost once again. I can lie to myself over and over again but there's no way I'll ever be able to fool that bastard who has never said a word of truth in his life.
"Why did you come shitty Dazai?" he asks as soon as he feels Dazai's cold fingers uncurl from around his neck.
"Because I wanted to see you Chuuya," Dazai replies with a false cheerful smile. The bandages on his left arm are soaked with blood. Soon it will ooze down his hand and onto the carpet. Not that it matters — the carpet is ruined as well as the rest of the apartment.
"Get the fuck out," Chuuya says wearily. "Get the fuck out before I kill you."
***
"Hiya."
Chuuya manages not to flinch. Carefully, he puts his glass down on the table before turning around. He sighs as he sees Dazai hop from the windowsill. The other man lands so silently Chuuya almost doesn't hear it, then straightens, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. He looks up, face expressionless, and lets his gaze run over Chuuya.
He says nothing, seemingly content with standing there and waiting for Chuuya to make the next move.
Chuuya isn't in the mood for his games yet he can't help but play along.
"What is this thing with you and windows? You could have used the door, you know," he says, rolling his eyes.
Dazai takes several steps forwards before stopping in the middle of the room and cocking his head as he replies, "What fun would that be?"
Chuuya lets out a huff of exasperation.
"You do know that I live on the thirteenth floor, don't you?"
"I never took you for a superstitious type."
"It is not about superstition," Chuuya shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "It is about me not wanting to deal with your dead body lying below my window."
"I thought you'd be glad to see me dead."
"Our bosses wouldn't share the sentiment."
"Oh," Dazai's eyes widen and he holds a finger up as if to make a point. "Are you saying you are worried about my well-being? Hmm. You are worrying me, hatrack."
"What the fuck do you want?"
"I didn't know you were so reasonable," Dazai continues in lieu of answering. "Really, how is that--"
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," Chuuya cuts him off, voice hard. Dazai's smile melts into a frown. A thoughtful expression crosses his face.
"Actually," he says after a while, "I think I know you pretty well. I know what to expect from you, I know your way of thinking, I can predict your actions, can foresee your reactions. But knowing you isn't the same as knowing about you. So tell me Chuuya what's your favorite color? Your favorite food? Are you allergic to flowers?"
"What, are you planning to poison me? Or to send me into anaphylactic shock?"
"I want to get to know things about you, hatrack," Dazai answered as he waves him off. "You are not being helpful, by the way."
Chuuya bites his tongue as he wants to say that stupid questions wouldn't help Dazai to get to know him better. He wants to say that the thing they once had was more than enough to make up for everything.
"What the fuck do you really want?"
"Your rudeness never ceases to amaze me. It looks like Kouyou's good manners didn't rub off on you at all. Or maybe you're just a lost cause," Dazai says, sighing dramatically. Then he curls his lips into a soft smile, meets Chuuya's gaze and continues, changing his tone, "I missed you, you know."
Chuuya swallows. No one but Dazai has ever been able to throw him off the balance with just one phrase.
It suddenly occurs to Chuuya that it would be much easier to leave than to kick Dazai out. Much better, too, for both his mental state and bank account. After Dazai's last visit he had to spent a small fortune to repair his apartment.
Actually, Chuuya thinks as he walks backwards towards the door, the look of genuine surprise on Dazai's face is worth it.
He's lost yet it doesn't bother him as much as it usually does.
***
"Hiya."
Sighing, Chuuya puts the grocery bags he's been holding on the counter before turning around.
"Don't you have work to do?" he asks exasperated. "Or did you finally get fired? Your shitty agency must've realised that you are nothing but a waste of bandages."
The image of Dazai sliding down from the windowsill has become a familiar sight. Crossing the room, he approaches Chuuya and looks inside the grocery bags before pulling out an apple with the air of a man who feels himself thoroughly at home.
"Business is booming so there's plenty of work," he says, completely disregarding the second part of Chuuya's comment. "Kunikida-kun's makes me work from dawn till night so I'm trying to make myself scarce."
He starts playing with the apple, flipping it in the air.
Chuuya blinks.
"Are you implying you broke into my apartment to hide from your new partner?"
"Yes, that's precisely what I'm implying," Dazai says, a cheerful smile on his lips. "No one in the world would ever think of looking for me here. Smart, isn't it?"
Taking a deep breath, Chuuya forces back the wave of irritation that threatens to overwhelm him. Then he snatches the apple from Dazai's hand, takes a bite, ignoring the other man's whine of protest.
"My place isn't a fucking shelter. Get out of here."
With these worlds Chuuya turns away indicating that the conversation is over, and starts to unpack the bags. Dazai remains silent yet Chuuya can feel his gaze on his back, burning through his clothing.
"You're nervous," Dazai's voice comes from just behind his ear. Damnit. Lost in thoughts, Chuuya hadn't even noticed him closing the space between them.
Turning around, he says, "I'm not--"
"You've put on the shirt that you save for special occasions and… are those new cufflinks?" Dazai says, cutting him off. "There are some candles on the table, a bottle of wine in the fridge. You also have a milk chocolate amongst your purchases though you prefer dark chocolate bars. So, you are obviously expecting a visit," Dazai looks Chuuya right in the eyes. When Chuuya neither confirms nor denies his words, a slight smirk tugs on his lips and he lets out a low whistle. "I see. You are having a date tonight."
"Since when are you an expert in what I like?"
"Have you forgotten that I am a member of the Armed Detective Agency? And don't avoid the question."
"Why, is it only your prerogative?"
"You do have a date tonight, then," Dazai concludes and stares at Chuuya as if waiting for him to deny it. When Chuuya doesn't reply, he narrows his eyes. "So, did you finally get yourself a girlfriend? Or maybe a boyfriend?"
"Even if I did, what's it to you?"
"Do I know them?"
"What's it to you?" Chuuya repeats.
The smirk on Dazai's lips takes a sharp edge. He doesn't say anything for a while, eyes roving over Chuuya's face. The intensity of his scrutiny makes Chuuya uneasy so he lifts his chin and straightens his back, trying to hide it.
"Just curious. Who would ever want to date a chibi like you?" Dazai says with a mockery ringing through his voice.
Chuuya feels his blood boil and lunges at the bastard without thinking.
It can hardly be called a fight. Chuuya is an excellent fighter, maybe, the best fighter in the Port Mafia yet he freezes as soon as Dazai touches his neck. One touch is all it takes for Dazai to cease his anger, to leave him defenseless, make him forget how to breathe.
The next moment Chuuya's on his back, his wrists pinned to the floor, Dazai's weight pressing down on him.
"Seems like you're losing your touch, partner. You've never let your guard down before," Dazai says tauntingly, and beneath his fake smile Chuuya can see a glimpse of his old self. He can see the person whom he used to trust with his life. The person whom he still trusts, even after all the bastard has put him through.
Chuuya may accept losing to Dazai if it means he gets to see this other side of him.
He feels a pang of yearning at this thought. This yearning seems to be stronger than his hate.
He looks over Dazai's face, noticing a new scar on his chin that runs down to his neck and disappears under the bandages. Chuuya looks at his eyes, then drops his gaze down to his lips.
It would be so easy to free himself from Dazai's grip yet he doesn't even try to move.
There is something possessive in Dazai's hold. Or maybe Chuuya just wants it to be there. He swallows and tries to focus on breathing, acutely aware of how heavy Dazai's hands feel around his wrists.
"Chuuya," Dazai calls, saying his name in the way only he can — taunting yet gentle, as if putting a deeper meaning into these two syllables.
"You should leave," Chuuya replies, looking anywhere but at Dazai.
"What, is your date coming soon?" Dazai murmurs barely audible. Then, without waiting for an answer he sighs and gets to his feet.
Chuuya doesn't try to move. He simply lays there and keeps his eyes shut as he listens to Dazai's departing footsteps.
After a while, he hears the sound of door closing and lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.
***
"Hiya."
Chuuya's breathing doesn't even hitch.
"I'm seriously considering putting bars on the windows."
"Do you think that would stop me?"
"I think you don't know when to stop. Ever heard of a self-preservation instinct?"
"A self-preservation instinct? Sounds boring," Dazai says, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He sits on the windowsill, abyss behind his back, setting sun coloring him with red and orange light.
Rolling his eyes, Chuuya shrugs off his coat and heads straight to the bar with a desperate need for a drink. Dazai's very presence threatens to turn what promised to be a peaceful evening into something dreadful and Chuuya doesn't feel like dealing with it sober.
"So, how did your date go?"
Stopping short on his track, Chuuya winces and swallows a sigh.
"Splendid," he replies trying to sound casual and failing.
"Hmm," Dazai drawls as if in deep thoughts, "so the poor fellow didn't run away after spending half an hour in your company?"
"Did you spy on me?" Chuuya asks, not even trying to hold back a scowl.
"What? No, why?" Dasai raises a brow, tilting his head curiously. Then he widens his eyes in realisation. "Oh. So he did run away."
"It's not your business," Chuuya snaps before pouring himself a drink. "Why did you come? Don't you have something better to do than screw with my head?"
"Not really," Dazai lets his lips curl into a small smile that forces Chuuya's heart skip a beat. "Actually, I came here to test something," he adds cryptically.
"I'm not your guinea pig," Chuuya says harshly.
"I never said you were. A dog though…"
"Don't finish that sentence if you want to live," Chuuya says, a dangerous edge to his tone.
"As we have already concluded I have no self-preservation instinct at all."
Chuuya sighs.
"Can't you stop wasting my time and tell me why are you here?"
For a long moment, nothing happens. Then, a lazy grin stretches across Dazai's face.
"Well, I suppose I could," he says slowly. "You have to offer something in return, first." Dazai looks pointedly at his glass of wine. Scoffing at that, Chuuya pulls a second glass.
"So, what is this all about?" Chuuya asks as he offers Dazai a drink.
"I'm not so sure myself," Dazai raises the glass to his lips, looking at Chuuya over the rim. Something about him is off. Chuuya can hear alarm bells ringing in the back of his head as he watches the other man taking a long seep.
A minute passes in a tense silence. Then Chuuya runs out of patience.
"I don't remember you ever doing something without having a hidden agenda," he says. "I only put up with your sneakiness because we used to be partners. But now we are on the opposite sides so stop waltz into my apartment as though you have the right to."
"You can't sincerely want me to leave."
"That has never stopped you before. Besides, since when do you give a shit about what I want? It has always been about what you want," Chuuya replies with a poorly hidden bitterness in his voice as he recalls the times he misjudged the ones he thought he could rely on.
First there were Sheep.
Then there was Dazai, who tried to break him, who tried to tame him and who, in the end, left him behind without as much as an explanation.
And now, after Chuuya had finally gotten on with his life, Dazai had the nerve to pop into the picture, acting as though he did nothing wrong.
"Do you really want me gone?" Dazai asks instead of answering. Not that Chuuya was waiting for any answers. He gave up on waiting for anything from Dazai long time ago.
He nods.
Nodding in return, Dazai finishes his drink in one big gulp and puts the glass down on the windowsill before starting to lean backwards, towards the glowing sunset of Yokohama.
The glass falls to the floor with a mournful clinking sound. Chuuya watches as shiny shatters cover the floor and feels his patience break.
Or maybe it's his heart that breaks, Chuuya isn't sure. He moves before thinking, and then he's falling down, wind slapping his face like needles.
Dazai smiles, reaching out for him and it takes all of Chuuya's self-restraint to keep from grabbing his hand. He takes hold of his coat lapel instead and eliminates their joint gravity to slow down the falling. Dazai's smile widens as they float like in a slow motion.
"I knew you didn't really want me gone," he says, looking strangely smug and vulnerable. "Even though you won't admit it, you've never stopped being my faithful dog."
These words make Chuuya realise he's made a terrible mistake. He should have let the bastard fall.
"Hurry up and die already," he snaps before loosening his grip.
***
"What, again?" Kunikida sighs and presses the palm of his hand to his face as though he has every right to be exasperated. As though he is the one who has been putting up with Dazai's stunts for all too long.
Well, maybe he really is. After all, he's Dazai's new partner now. If anyone can understand what Chuuya has been going through, it's him.
"What the hell did he do this time?"
"The fucker fell out of a window," Chuuya replies.
"By himself?" a kid dressed in a blue overall asks, suspicion clearly in his voice.
"Well, I didn't push him if that's what you're asking," Chuuya growls, feeling his patience fraying thin.
"That's enough," a feminine voice says in a tone that leaves no room for objections. Chuuya turns around and sees Yosano Akiko, the woman he's heard so much about from Mori. The woman who has chosen light over darkness or, more accurately, who is naive enough to believe that the world is either black or white.
She's capable of miracles, or so Chuuya has heard.
"Are you injured?" Yosano asks.
It takes Chuuya a second to realise the question's been addressed to him. He shakes his head. His knuckles ache because he punched Dazai into the ground after the fall but even if there are any bruises, they are hidden under the gloves.
Thankfully, Chuuya's anger disappeared before he could accidentally kill the bastard.
"How did this happen?" Yosano asks as she puts on medical gloves.
"He jumped from the thirteenth floor," Chuuya says.
"Then why is he still breathing?" Kunikida asks.
"I caught him," Chuuya says, his voice even, "somewhere between the second and the third floor."
"You jumped after him?" Kunikida's voice is filled with a feeling Chuuya can't name.
He nods.
"So he actually did it," the man-tiger says. Chuuya thinks he's heard Dazai calling him 'Atsushi'.
"What do you mean by that?" Chuuya narrows his eyes dangerously. "Did this bastard plan to jump from my window?"
"Well no," Atsushi says. "But he was constantly talking about committing a double suicide with a beautiful woman--" Atsushi trails off under Chuuya's glare, his face draining of color. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean you were a woman. Not that you aren't beautiful. I meant, handsome. If you were a woman I’d say you are beautiful but…"
"Shut up, Atsushi," Kunikida says before casually stepping in front of the younger man, as if trying to shield him from Chuuya. Chuuya rolls his eyes at that. As if he'd ever think about wasting his time on the kid. He turns away to look at Dazai.
The bastard is still unconscious, his face bloodies, arm obviously broken judging by the angle at which it lays, his lower lip split wide-open. Chuuya can see purple bruises forming on his face.
There is a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach which he ignores.
Yosano cleans Dazai's face before slicing open his left sleeve to inspect the arm. Chuuya watches her movements with increasing puzzlement.
"I thought your ability can heal all injuries."
"Dazai's ability nullifies other's abilities, mine included," the woman says without slowing her movements. "His ability is constantly turned on, even when he's unconscious. When it comes to Dazai, I can do as much as any other doctor."
"Then why did he…" Chuuya says and trails off. "If he knew you wouldn't be able to heal him… What the hell was he thinking?"
Shiny wings of the butterfly pin in Yosano's hair flutters as she shakes her head.
"I believe there are very few people if any who can understand how Dazai thinks."
Frowning, Chuuya lets out a long string of flowery curses. What on the earth could he have done to deserve this?
"Come on, Nakahara," Kunikida says. "We should let Yosano take care of Dazai."
There is something akin to sympathy in Kunikida's eyes. He lifts a hand like he wants to pat Chuuya on the shoulder, but then he thinks better of it and drops his hand again. Not saying another word, Chuuya heads outside, keeping his chin high. He pauses at the door.
"Tell the bastard I'll kill him if he ever shows up at my apartment again," he says without turning around.
***
"Hiya."
Startled, Chuuya drops the keys he's holding in his hand. There's a loud metallic clang as they hit the ground, followed by a quite curse. Chuuya can see a pebble falling off from the katana-shaped keychain given him by Kouyou. He closes his eyes and counts to ten before opening them again.
Then he turns around and sees Dazai who sits on the stairs leading upwards with an easy-going smile on his lips. He meets Chuuya's gaze before giving him a small wave with his right hand.
It's been several weeks since their last meeting. At some point, Chuuya's started to believe Dazai would never bother him again and yet, here he is. The bruises on his face have faded like they never existed in the first place but his arm is wrapped up and there's an arm sling around his shoulder.
"What have you done this time?" Chuuya asks with a slight frown.
"What are you talking about?" Dazai asks, tilting his head in a way that makes him look completely innocent.
Good thing Chuuya can see right through him and his façade.
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about," he replies. "Did you rig my place or something? Cause if you did I'd make you pay for all damages and--"
"You're as hard to please as a woman," Dazai cuts him off, tries to shrug and winces immediately. "You were the one who kept insisting I should enter through the door instead of the window."
"And now you've suddenly decided to listen to me?"
"What can I say? Sometimes you can be very... persuasive."
"If only I had known that falling out of a window would make you so pliant I'd have done that long time ago."
"Why, do you like me more when I'm pliant?" Dazai asks, almost flirtatiously.
Chuuya blinks.
"I--" he starts and trails off as he can't help but feel like he's missing something. "Why are you here?" he asks after taking a deep breath. He doesn't expect an answer, not really, yet Dazai manages to surprise him for the second time in a day.
"There's one question I want to ask you," he says. "If you answer I promise I'll leave you alone and never bother you again, if that's what you really want."
Fuck if that doesn't sound tempting.
"What kind of question?" Chuuya asks, mentally going through the Port Mafia's recent operations that could possibly be of any interest for Dazai.
Dazai chuckles.
"Now, don't get so riled up. My question isn't work-related," he assures as though reading his thoughts.
"Fine then," Chuuya sighs. After a moment of hesitation, he unlocks the door and opens it, looking out for any sign of danger. When nothing happens, Chuuya opens the door wider and motions Dazai to enter first.
An amused glint flashes across Dazai's gaze yet he chooses not to comment on Chuuya's wariness. He comes in, formally muttering 'I'm sorry to intrude', and toes off his shoes before placing them on the mat near the door.
Chuuya takes off his shoes as well and hangs his hat on the coathanger before sneaking a glance at Dazai, who's leaning against the wall. There's sadness tinged in his expression. Chuuya frowns.
"Are you waiting for a special invitation?" he asks as he moves further into the apartment. "Come on in. Now, what will you drink — whiskey?"
"Why the sudden hospitality?" Dazai raises his eyebrow. "Or can it be that you feel guilty about my arm?"
"Don't even start on your arm," Chuuya retorts. "After the stunt you pulled you're lucky I didn't kill you."
"Touché," Dazai says as he moves to settled on the couch. He traces his fingers along the upholstery and looks up at Chuuya. "You changed your furniture."
Chuuya blinks. Is it small talk or Dazai probing for something?
"Not that you left me much choice."
"I like this couch more than the previous one."
"You look almost proud of yourself."
"Do I really?"
Snorting, Chuuya pours whiskey into two glasses, then put some ice cubes into them. He offers Dazai one of the glasses before settling in the chair across from him and taking a sip of his own drink. If Dazai is surprised by his choice of drink, he doesn't let it show on his face.
They sit in silence for a while.
"Let's get this over with," Chuuya says finally.
Dazai hesitates. He picks up the whiskey, gives it a curious sniff and takes a sip.
"Tell me," he starts, absently running his fingers over the rim of his glass. "Why is it you never close your window?"
It takes several seconds for the words to process, but when they do, Chuuya feels his breath rushing out of him so fast he nearly chokes. His gaze is immediately drawn to the widely opened window, draped with a white curtain that flutters in the breeze.
"What?" he asks through numbed lips.
"Why do you never close your window?" Dazai repeats. "You get angry every time I break in yet you do nothing to stop me. If you really wanted me to stop coming…" he licks his lips before looking Chuuya straight in the eyes and continuing, "If you really wanted me to stop coming you would have closed the window. But you keep leaving it open... as though you are waiting for me to come."
"I..." Chuuya takes a long sip, buying himself some time to figure out what to say next. He can hear the ominous sound of ice cubes clinking against the glass. His thoughts bounce back and forth like the cubes. "I wasn't waiting for you," he says in the end.
"I know," Dazai's lips curl into a lazy smile. "You haven't answered my question, though."
Taking another sip, Chuuya feels the whiskey burning down his throat. Suddenly, he is overwhelmed with a desperate need to feel Dazai's fingers on his skin. He doesn't want to talk, he's not good at talking either way. He wants Dazai to leave him no choice but to accept his touch.
But Dazai does nothing. He just sits there, eyes fixed on Chuuya, glass dangling in his good hand.
"You never answer mine," Chuuya says.
"Quite the opposite, hatrack. I answered every question you asked. It's not my fault my answers weren't what you expected to hear."
"You kept saying some bullshit," Chuuya says slowly, words coming out of his mouth with a great effort, "about dates and dead bodies, and having missed me--" he trails off in the middle of a sentence before looking at Dazai with unspoken question in his eyes.
There's no way Dazai really meant that, right?
Wincing, Dazai shrugs without saying a word. Chuuya finishes his drink in one gulp and lets out a long breath before asking, "Why do you keep coming here?"
"To see you. Why haven't you closed the window?"
That whisky must have hit him pretty hard, Chuuya thinks as he feels his cheeks flushing with a blush.
Looking away, he mutters, "You're a fucking genius, haven't you figured it out already? You claim to know me so well, after all."
Raising an eyebrow, Dazai tilts his head slightly.
"I know you better than almost anyone. I know that you like dark chocolate more than milk. I know you drink your coffee with a shit-ton of sugar. I know you keep that hideous hat not because you like it but because it holds sentimental value for you. I know you don't drink whiskey… well, my information has become outdated, I guess," Dazai nods toward Chuuya's drained glass. "I know you still trust me with your life. I know you can't stand me touching you anymore."
Chuuya looks up. Dazai curves his lips into a smile as though saying, 'Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice?'. Yet his smile lacks its usual smugness.
Chuuya swallows around the sudden lump in his throat.
"I also know you hate lying. That's why you avoid the subject when you don't want to tell the truth." Dazai puts his glass down on the table with a soft clink before pushing himself to his feet. "I think I've got the answer I was looking for. I'll be going now. Thanks for the drink, Chuuya" he says, drawling his name in that special way of his that makes Chuuya's heart beat faster.
After that, Dazai turns around and takes a step toward the door.
Chuuya hates him so much it's unbearable. It has taken Dazai several words to turn his whole world upside down. There's a swirling storm of thoughts and emotions making Chuuya's chest tight and he desperately needs time to comprehend everything he has just heard.
There's no time, though. He has a feeling that if Dazai leaves now, neither of them will ever speak of this again. Chuuya can't let this happen.
He's lost once again, he realises. He can't let go of Dazai. He needs Dazai to calm the storm inside of him.
And it looks like Dazai needs him, too, so maybe there are no winners or losers in this sick game of theirs.
Pulling off his glove, Chuuya grabs Dazai's hand, wrapping his fingers around the wrist, and feels the breath leave his lungs as he does so.
Dazai stiffens before turning around to glance at him, a look of surprise crossing his face. He hesitates only a second before relaxing and leaning into Chuuya's touch. Chuuya can see something akin to hope flash in his eyes.
It's the uneven beating of Dazai's pulse that anchors him as he takes a deep breath before murmuring, "Stay."