Chapter Text
The first time Dazai kissed him, he was 16. Chuuya knows you’re supposed to remember your first kiss with startling accuracy or whatever but the truth is, he only remembers it in flashes. The rough texture of Dazai’s bandages, the faint music from a nearby bar, the cold, the flicker of a damaged street-lamp...
He remembers Dazai’s smile, insincere as most things about Dazai are, and not much else. He doesn’t remember what they were arguing about, nor does he remember what mission they were on. But they were definitely on a mission (because why else would they spend time together) and they were definitely arguing (because what else would they do whilst spending time with one another) when Dazai got a look in his eyes (Chuuya technically remembers the look as well but pretends he doesn’t) and then they were kissing in the alleyway.
It wasn’t love though, Chuuya determinedly tells himself as he pours himself another drink. Love is... kinder. It’s deeper and it’s not entangled with blood, death, and emptiness. Love isn’t something you feel for the mafia’s demon prodigy. Well, ex-demon prodigy. The point still stands. Love is something more than whatever the fuck they’d had.
The second time, Chuuya’d kissed him. God knows why. Maybe he’d been drunk. That would be a reasonable explanation.
Third, fourth, fifth... Chuuya’s lost count. Flashes. Just flashes. Flashes of cars and wine and smiles and impossibly gentle hands. Doesn’t matter. They were all just ways to pass the time. Because at the end of the day, none of it mattered. Dazai had left the mafia. Chuuya hadn’t. They hated each other and all they ever had really been was partners. They hadn’t been friends and they hadn’t been lovers.
None of it fucking mattered. Chuuya numbly raises the glass to his lips only to realise he’s finished the drink already.
He grabs his coat and staggers out of the bar.
It wasn’t love.
It isn’t love.