Work Text:
It seemed to have been in some ancient past life the last time they both met in that place.
Somewhere in an old forest forgotten by Yokohama there was a small hidden flower field. Found by both teens by mere chance, the green grass grew in abundance and the freshness of the wind braided their hair. Red, pink and white camellias flourished here and there, existing solely for the beauty of the small birds whose nests could be easily seen by leaning facing the white clouds. The murmur of the leaves was all that was heard that moment, but a silent echo of a stormy past deepened the minds of the mafia boys.
Maybe it was on some mission from their early days as Double Black, the boys were to return to the headquarters after finishing, however the exhaustion of several hours of mental strategy and physical fight had left them exhausted. A shortcut, some disoriented step and Dazai and Chuuya were in the most peaceful place their lawless lives had ever seen. The stars illuminated the small plot with the elderly light of the universe making the little spot in the forest shine ever so brightly. The sound of the crickets welcomed them and the flowers whispered the secret of the most comfortable dreams. Chuuya kept spitting blood and Dazai definitely had more than one broken bone. The atmosphere did not more than reaffirm the fact that there was no way for them to go back to where they should be if they didn't rest first. They lay down in the night dew, not too far away, just enough to reaffirm their stated mutual hatred, not too close, just enough for the other's breath to work as a nice lullaby for the listener. With their bodies seeing opposite cardinal points and only their heads aligned next to each other, two kids dreamed with the pleasures of another life, simply to wake up believing that they were still in the softest of dreams, being greeted by a morning landscape never seen before, with light strokes barely crossing the tops of the tall trees, the scent of something blossoming not far away and the view of each other in a state of infinite ease.
The tradition was born. It wasn't a thing to be spoken out loud, one would deviate from his routine things to escape for a while to the ethereal paradise and to meet the other already there, waiting for him. And, as worthy of a soul in two separate bodies, they always managed to meet without ever leaving the other standing, as if it were pure chance, as if they couldn’t read each other's thoughts, even if they were miles apart. Their lives did not allow them to go as often as they would have liked, but when they did, at whatever time was it, they would talk for hours on end of things that we would never understand. Always lying on the grass, sometimes leaning against each other, stroking the flowers with the tips of their fingers, fiddling with the blue little birds that in their uncertainty had come closer than usual. Taking the other's hand, stroking the other's hair. They would talk and talk, and sometimes it would not be necessary to use their voice, just by sharing the same space they could hear even the most whispering thoughts perfectly. As if it wasn't them, as if they didn't live their current life. In their space there was no aggressiveness, no sarcasm, no hate. A friend, more than that, the company that the sea makes its lady moon at night after a storm said good night before going to sleep. A confident. It was everything to them, the entire universe, time itself, beyond everything that exists. It was home.
Except on the night Dazai left his partner behind. Chuuya, in a last desperate attempt to find answers, exhausted and with an inexplicable pain somewhere deep in his body, went to that place that they called theirs.
It was the first time that one left the other standing. Chuuya screamed to contain his desire to destroy the place, of crushing everything. And he screamed, and clenched his jaw and his fists, and wiped away the mischievous tears that were leaking from his clear eyes, but he managed to leave the place as they found it together who knows how many years ago, with his heart in his hand and a repulsive taste of bliss in his mouth.
The stars left the sky the following night, the second time someone was left alone. Dazai stood still in the middle of his beloved meadow. He was lost and only knew how to get there when that happened. Unable to decipher his own rushing notions he dropped to his knees for a moment. He cursed himself, he hated not understanding his own head sometimes, hated that his soul and brain went at different beats, hated that things were this way, but most of all he hated the way he was unable to cry even in a situation like this. He left, not without first plucking a handful of red camellias and crushing them with his hands and his eyes devoid of any shine.
But who were they but the most stubborn in all Japan? The first year of their separation they both continued to go to their secret place without ever meeting once. A thread breaking at last, falling into a darkness they didn't remember until they met, incapable for the first time to read each other's thoughts, both minds became disconnected. Chuuya stopped first as the fish that knows that no matter how hard it tries it will never make it to the top of that tree. Dazai took a little longer, a year and a few months later he recalled ashamed the name of his ability, he thought he maybe deserved all of this, that his actions were nothing but selfish. He was gone without turning back.
It was at dusk on the day that Dazai appeared in the Port Mafia dungeon. They both knew it; one look was enough to become one again. Yes, things had happened in the years they had without seeing each other and you couldn't say they were the same person they left behind, but that thing overfloating among them was unmistakable. They fought, they had to do it while their hearts were still in unknown territory, but they both knew that that wouldn't be the last of that day. When Chuuya arrived to that old but magical place none of the fantasy had faded. The atmosphere sparkled bathed in a charming golden light, the trees at that time of the year exploded with all the colors of spring, the birds sang as if celebrating the arrival of their former playmate, the grass was overflowing with thousands of vivid camellias, and in the middle of them a figure rested on his arms, using his coat as a soft pillow that kept him from fully seeing the sky, as his gaze was nailed upon the white flower on his hand. Chuuya walked up to him, drawing Dazai's attention with his pure stare. One standing, one lying down, both talking without their voices. It could have been seconds, but they swore they'd looked at each other for hours. At least it's what they wished they had done long ago. Chuuya stared down for a moment before giving the smallest of sighs and, imitating his partner, following the tradition of an old tale, he lay down with his body away aligning his head, taking off his hat and using his expensive coat as a pillow on a grass that was definitely still wet from the recent rains that use to pass high up in the mountains.
This time they were a little closer than before, Chuuya couldn't help it, so much time had passed. Although they stayed further away than they would have wanted, the thickness of the emotional wall raised by the weight of betrayal was disgustingly thick. Dazai turned his head gently, placing the white flower between them with the fear of those who hold a newborn. Chuuya saw the little camellia as one who sees the first dawn of the new year. And their souls found each other, And they saw the ghost of a lover of a former life in their eyes. And Chuuya couldn't resist it. He turned his head again with a new sad smile, he ran one of his gloved hands over his red bangs and cried silently. One could see him and think that that person was one with just a terrible migraine. How could someone with such a noisy and chaotic existence cry fearful of awakening the angels? Only Dazai noticed when his partner cried like that. Chuuya noticed it too, the brunette bite his lower lip and his right hand ran up and down his left wrist. He knew that Dazai didn’t cry, even if he felt a terrible pain inside him, he didn’t cry. And Chuuya cried for both of them, because the person next to him who was most in need of it couldn't do it. And Dazai felt like he hadn't done for years, because his little paradise had returned, because the sky was still shining and he felt his eyes were too. Because they were home.
That is how his silent tradition returned, the pact within two people who never agreed to. Those who didn’t ever need a word.
Now it was more painful and the rules written on the sheets were harder. They met again always, but they never said a word to each other. They stayed there for hours enjoying the mute company. They would never admit it, but being in the presence of the other was enough to calm the whirlwinds that inhabited their bodies.
They used to arrive separately but always left the place together. Now the first one to arrive was the first to leave as well, perhaps to save the other a double blush for disturbing the untouchable space, perhaps because having separate lives it seemed like the right thing to do.
Week after week their timeless visits remained constant. The silence was never heavy, their hearts were never bored. Dazai spent time memorizing the landscapes in front of him to paint them later that day in the prettiest of colors while Chuuya formulated poems inspired by the tender soothe of the old forest, the ones he would write that same night before sleeping. It was almost perfect, the glass between them was something that could hardly be ignored even with all the art in the world.
This time it was Dazai's turn to leave first (that day he had arrived abnormally early, considering that it was late at night). The air felt especially cold, in truth, both of them had come to use their usual coats as blankets this time. The trees rocked a little more than normal thus causing a gratifying murmur. The atmosphere was full of that aroma that floods the space when the night is darker and the morning dew threatens to arrive. It was a lovely cool night, but it was time for the tall one to go, a long time had passed since his arrival.
Dazai straightened up and when he was preparing to get up, he noticed that a certain person had fallen into a deep sleep. His drool gave him away. Dazai widened his expression a bit before relaxing his face in a tender smile. That someone as Chuuya had the confidence to fall asleep around him was one of the best compliments they could give him. Bandages threatened to touch a cheek that seemed to disappear at every second to become the softest of snowfalls, but Dazai couldn't touch Chuuya while sleeping, the sudden absence of power in the short body would be enough to wake him up in half a second just to gift him a knife to the throat. Although our suicide lover wouldn't a knife, disturbing his partner's sleep was something he did not find pleasant. Truly, he could stare at him for hours. Harmonious, tranquil, at peace. The mental state in which Chuuya deserved to live forever. An early morning sparrow brought Dazai out of his reverie, forcing him to leave, but not before thanking his partner of forgotten dreams for the calm provided at that moment.
Chuuya woke up together with the dawn, accompanied by a single pink camellia on his chest.
At his next meeting Chuuya made sure to arrive early. He was, above all, an elegant and grateful man for that he wanted to return the previous gift. He waited until the other seemed to sleep (he wasn't, and they both knew it, but they sure were having fun) before leaving a small thank you gift on Dazai's coat which was carefully folded next to him. The supposed asleep waited until he could no longer feel Chuuya's presence near the place before looking at his gift. He turned his gaze and there it was: a newt.
A new habit had emerged. An innocent and amusing way to communicate completely forgetting who they were playing to be to make way for his past selves who ignored the rules of fate and used that pure and simple language that only those who still have a young soul know. Now before leaving, a gift would be left to the one who remained with eyes closed. A light way of saying “I'm here and you're here with me and that's good”. A secret code, a brick less on the infinite wall, a window through which to ventilate the feelings trapped eons behind, an exit, something beautiful, something of theirs, something precious and so much needed. It was the breath they so badly required.
How Dazai reacted to his newt, you may ask. Well, he had to call Atsushi to remove the little gecko from is coat. The next time the bandaged man gently placed a single pea on his partner's forehead, followed by a response consisting of expired coupons. A small piece of wood with “bastard” carved on top, an old tea bag, a popsicle stick, a rock with googly eyes. Like the one who owns a cat and notices that his furry son has left a gift at the foot of the bed and can simply pray that this time it's not a dead mouse. Things were getting better with time.
An afternoon worthy of April, the pink trees around them took the sweetest tones that nature could offer and the flowers danced among the organic melody that flooded the air. Chuuya watched Venus rise through the trees; the sky was overflowing with a deep blue color. When he breathed his body was filled with the fragrance of cherry trees and he could feel the tenderness of a million oceans on his skin. Oh, how he loved the charm of freedom in those moments. Everything was perfect, everything was quiet, everything was him and he was everything. Chuuya saw his partner out of the corner of his eye. Ah, at this kind of times even he could see the obscene beauty that Dazai represented. The air of melancholy emanating from him, the serenity of his walk, the wind caressing his dark wavy hair, the elegant face of a sorrowful young man, the careful way in which he took care of his appearance, the square lump on his stomach. His very spirit was something that only the muses of the cyclopean cities were capable of matching.
Wait, the what!?
Dazai took his usual place on the grass without clashing his serious expression. Chuuya would need to sit straight to make sure what he had seen had not been a product of his imagination. Why, of all the people on the planet, of all the men in the country, of every individual he knew, why did he have such a strong bond with such a damn strange person? Limiting to questioning his existence by himself, he placed his hat on his face in an attempt to sleep, after all, at least that day he deserved it and what he desired most at the moment was to silence his thoughts.
But he didn’t rest for long. He had not yet fallen asleep when he noticed that the other one stirred in his place. He calculated 15 minutes at most. It was merely 15 minutes the time they spent together that afternoon. “So what the hell did he come for” was what Chuuya was probably wondering as he removed his hat from his face and sat down to confirm that Dazai had abandoned him so soon. The sun had not yet fallen when its rays hit the tall box that Chuuya had in front of him. The gift that stood in front of him carried a modest brown wrapper, and a thin black bow accompanied a white card on top. “Like a good wine” could be read in beautiful calligraphy. The mafioso put the card in his wallet, removed the bow and tore the wrapping. A completely pink box with a single description: “Sakura Kirakira” Chuuya took out of the box a bottle in which 3 cherry blossoms fluttered inside a pink liquid. Dazai had given him his favorite cherry liqueur. The bottle looked dazzling being kissed by the golden hour. His owner view it lovingly, of all the gifts he had received that day that cheap wine had been his favorite by far. For his part, Dazai had gone out of his way that busy day to spend, even if was for a few minutes, with his beloved idiot. After all, not every day was Chuuya's birthday.
But that is not the name of this work.
The days were gone. The last spring dawn was sighing at the same time that the cicadas chanted to the sound of summer. The sun slipping through the bushy trees gave the little flower field a surreal touch like a fairy tale, with happy strokes caressing how much color was in the bright grass. Dazai followed the wind with his gaze. Chuuya seemed to belong right next to all the wonders of the world just by lying down, red hair bleeding into the earth itself, deep blue eyes navigating an infinite sea of unknown ideas. The sight that opened in front of him was one that Dazai promised to later immortalize with a painting, not only because of the nostalgic colors and sparkles of the scene, nor for the beauty of the muse that was in the landscape, but because the muse himself showed different characteristics from the usual ones. His detestable hat was nowhere to be seen.
Dazai took his place alongside Chuuya, a little closer, a little calmer. He could feel a foreign sensation flowing in his mind. He could get used to it. For today he would not go anywhere else and, judging by the symbolism that the lack of a hat represented, he could assure that Chuuya would not leave his side either.
Is it enough to love the moment as it is? To be in the same space as the one you dear the most? To do nothing to change the unspoken things in the air? Or is it better to embrace the aching that burns your throat? To break the wall between the two of you created after all the years of not seeing each other? To extend your fingers the slightest to touch their cheek and whisper that you two could have a chance if you saw beyond who they are in life?
Dazai tilted his chin to the sky and closed his eyes. His thoughts used to wander to strange places when he was with Chuuya. They were the most beautiful places he could travel to.
Chuuya's slow breathing beside him was all he needed to continue living.
Chuuya, meanwhile, had been all day with endless emotions running through his body. He held a small velvet box in one hand and played with the flowers of the place with the other. He remembered how they met. How he met the first person who took into account what he wanted, the first person who asked him what he wanted. The first person to make him feel human. The first person who had made him feel anything other than rampant fury. Chuuya hated Dazai madly for daring to be the first person he had ever fallen in love with.
But the day was moving fast and Chuuya swore that if he continued next to that person for a single second more he couldn't bear to don’t tell him everything that he had kept hidden, to recite all the poems Dazai had inspired, of cutting the distance that bitterly reminded him that perhaps they could never be.
Chuuya rolled over himself to get up and finally leave. But, huh?!
Dazai's face was directly under his. When had they gotten so physically close?
And Dazai felt it, the shadow of someone above him and hair that tickled his cheek, but oh was he going to stay still as a corpse.
Chuuya knew he was not asleep, that didn't stop him to appreciate the image under him. Dazai looked quietly serene. His fluffy hair fell over his forehead, his chin was slightly raised towards him and his long eyelashes waited for an impossible fate. It wasn't that false and cold calm with which he smiled in front of others; it was a gentler, warmer one. And at that moment he would have given anything to change his ability to one that stopped time.
The hand that still held a flower outlined with soft petals Dazai's jaw. Chuuya knew the constant hell in which his partner lived, he knew of the torments of his past that still haunted him, he knew of the nightmares from which he awoke with a cold sweat, knew what was under his bandages, knew that that young man had suffered too much for his own good. Dazai had a dark deep hole in his soul and Chuuya would do whatever it took to fill it himself.
Chuuya lowered himself and pressed his forehead against Dazai's.
How long had it been since the last physical contact that it wasn’t in the middle of a fight? The feeling of No Longer Human nullifying By the Tainted Sorrow filled him with a scorching peace. Touching Dazai was the best thing Chuuya had ever felt.
And Chuuya felt warm against Dazai's forehead, like the first flash of light after a night perhaps a little too dark.
And Dazai felt cold against Chuuya's forehead, like a little boy who has perhaps been too long alone in the rain.
Chuuya raised his head as the wind carried the camellia he had been holding. One more second and it would have been impossible to stop the whisper that was screaming in his heart. It was time to leave.
He sat down, took Dazai's hand, opened it, placed the small velvet box, closed the hand, and stood up.
Dazai felt cold. This time he did not wait to stop sensing the presence of his partner before sitting down and see what he had in his hand. He opened the soft little box and admired the ring inside. 9 aquamarines were lined up on a platinum surface. It was breathtaking. It had a small engraving inside:
Slug’s.
Something broke.
“It must have cost you a fortune”
It wasn't noisy, just enough to stop the man 20 steps away.
“Yeah, it did”
Dazai stood up.
“It’s beautiful”
Chuuya didn't turn. His heart stopped for a second.
“Happy Birthday”
The wind raised the scent of flowers, camellias danced at their feet. Dazai didn't understand what was going on behind his eyes.
“Chuuya”
Chuuya turned. Dazai was crying.
“Chuuya. I'm sorry”
Dazai's voice cracked.
“I'm sorry”
Chuuya didn’t need to speak. He closed the distance between them with a determined step.
Tears kept pouring out of the world's brightest eyes. Dazai knelt down.
“I'm sorry”
Chuuya threw himself against Dazai. He put his hand around the shaking body and stroked brown hair with the other.
“I'm sorry”
Dazai was sobbing against Chuuya's shoulder. He smelled good.
“I'm sorry…!”
Chuuya took Dazai's hand, the one who held the ring tight. He took it and put it on Dazai’s finger.
Dazai cried heavily, Chuuya hugged him even tighter.
That afternoon Dazai let out the feelings accumulated by time. If it wasn't for Chuuya's body heat he could assure that he had died more than a couple of times in the process. Chuuya remained silent at all times, sometimes squeezing a little bit harder, sinking his nose into dark hair. At a certain moment when the stars came out to see what was happening, he dropped his weight to the side making them both fall onto the camellias in a more comfortable position. His arms did not stop surrounding Dazai at any moment. Even when Dazai managed to regulate his breathing sometime in the early morning he didn't say anything, his fingers kept combing his hair.
They both fell asleep before the sun came back.
Dazai was the last to wake up. His eyes felt slightly swollen and his cheeks still felt damp. He felt lighter. It took him a moment to remember where he was.
“Good Morning”
Chuuya's voice echoed in him. Dazai still had his ear pressed against his chest and Chuuya's arms were around his waist. He snuggled a little bit more.
“Good Morning”
Then he felt it. The ring was on his left hand. Very reluctantly he separated only a little from his heat source to admire it now with a clear mind.
"What does this mean?"
Chuuya placed a gloveless hand on Dazai's cheek.
"What do you want it to mean?"
Their eyes met. Dazai closed the distance until their foreheads touched. He enjoyed that feel. He put a hand on Chuuya's cheek. A flower was between them.
“Stay with me”
Chuuya smiled before erasing any remaining distance between them.
The End
Epilogue
“Hey, Chuu~ya!”
No response. A pout.
“Chuu~ya~~”
A light snore. A frown.
“Chuu…ya!”
A pillow-slap.
“What the- what is your problem?!”
“Good morning, Chuuya!”
A soft light illuminated the redhead’s penthouse. The sun could be seen rising from between the buildings, the flowers in the vase gave the room a sweet fragrance. Chuuya was lying on his stomach with his back exposed, hugging the pillow under his head. He looked annoyed, he shouldn't be working until later, why had Dazai woken him up?
“Good morning. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
Dazai was reclined next to him. There were no bandages.
“I still have time. I want to do something before I go”
He reached for his coat. It was on the floor.
“Ta-da!”
Chuuya was rubbing his eyes while yawning, both were now sitting on the bed. Dazai showed Chuuya a small velvety box.
“What is this?”
“Open it!”
And Chuuya did. Inside the box was a familiar ring. It was a little different, rubies and garnets were lined up on a black gold surface. Inside was an engraving:
Mackerel’s.
They were matching rings.
“Dazai… how on earth did you get this?!”
"I felt kind of guilty wearing mine, I didn’t want to be left alone. Besides, you deserve that and so much more”
That last words colored Dazai’s cheeks and the tips of Chuuya’s ear with a light pink. They couldn't get used to happiness from one day to the next.
Chuuya felt in heaven.
“It’s perfect”
Dazai thought the same.
“It really is”
Dazai took the ring and put it on his partner. They admired their hands together. Chuuya remembered a certain question while talking with false innocence:
“But Dazai, what does this mean?”
Dazai remembered his own words. A radiant smile lit up his face before turning it into a playful grimace and tackling Chuuya onto the sheets.
Maybe work could wait just a little bit longer.
