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There's something about falling in love from far away. Something that Dazai can't quite put his finger on.
It's this unhurried, warm, all consuming flame that starts slow and spreads all throughout him. Like a drop of poison in a wine glass, he can't separate himself back, again. He can't tell where he starts and where the influence of love ends.
It has him ordering coffee he doesn't drink from the campus cafe just so he can hear the redhead call his name once it's ready.
It has him dressing up in more than sweatpants and sleep shirts four days a week, even going so far as to bother his roommate the night before to make sure he looks okay.
And Oda never once complains, just looks at him and smiles bright- nods when Dazai turns in overly-dramatic circles. Tells him "That redhead is probably half in love with you already."
But, for once, Dazai is certain that Oda is wrong. For once, Dazai hates to be right.
Because Chuuya, god, Chuuya has the prettiest smile he has ever seen. He's absolutely breathtaking. And Dazai never imagined feeling this way about anyone. Ever.
But sometimes, when the cafe opens -way too early for anyone to be that happy- he can hear Chuuya humming, singing softly to himself when it's just the two of them.
There's this comfortable, almost intimate, silence between them as Dazai pretends to study and Chuuya sneaks milk into a bowl to feed the campus cats.
The first time he sees it, Chuuya gives him a wink and a free coffee, "This one's on me, yeah? If anyone asks where the spare milk went, we can tell them we were mugged."
"We?" It makes his heart beat too hard in his chest.
"Yes, we. You're my accomplice now." He pauses, and Chuuya's lips look so warm and soft.
"Who in their right mind would mug poor college students for milk?" His breath stills when Chuuya's fingers linger against his a little too long not to mean something.
And when Chuuya laughs, well, that's when everything changes. Because no one laughs like that. No one's laugh makes him think of poetry and music. And all he can think of is how on earth he made Chuuya laugh and how he can do it again.
"No one," Chuuya puffs out his chest and casts him a playful grin, "Because I would kick their ass."
And for the first time in his life, Dazai is speechless. And it's shocking, because he always has something to say, something utterly ridiculous to babble about that always seems to get him in trouble. But not with Chuuya.
Nothing is ever the same around Chuuya.
Because the second his pretty blue eyes come into view, everything just...stops. Everything narrows in on the redhead who takes time out of his day to feed stray kittens and ask Dazai about his day and actually care about the response.
Everything narrows in on Chuuya, who once asked what song he was listening to and whistled the tune the next morning as the cafe opened.
And there's something about falling in love with someone who looks at him like he matters.
It has him up at night, staring out his window and wishing, hoping that maybe Chuuya is thinking about him, too. Thinking about how soft his hands feel, how finger light touches would feel if they traced his soft skin.
He can't stop imagining about how perfect it would be, if he just had the courage, to ask Chuuya to sit with him by the magnolia tree in the park - to watch the blossoms fall in his sunset hair.
Love has brought Dazai here, resting his head against his palms as Chuuya reads him the poetry he writes on spare napkins and disposable coffee lids. Too struck with ideas to find a piece of paper.
And he knows it's a risk, that he could lose this all encompassing love, this slow, wholesome descent into caring for someone so much that his heart aches.
But the cafe is empty, silent save for the occasional meow by a window sill, sunlight barely peaking through the windows and illuminating the tables and wooden floors in a soft shade of crimson.
And Dazai has loved Chuuya for so long, already.
He leans in with the soft sound of bamboo wind chimes singing in the background.
He leans in as Chuuya meets his lips in the soft glow of the setting sun, fingers cupping his jaw so tenderly he might be made of porcelain.
And there's something about falling in love from far away. Something he can't quite put his finger on. It's this slow, warm, all consuming flame that starts slow and spreads all throughout him.
He can't tell where he starts and where the influence of love ends.
And for the first time, that's okay. Because it led him here, in an empty cafe with Chuuya's fingers in his hair.
Love has him pulling away first but speaking second.
"I...I love you, Osamu."
It has his eyes filling with tears after years of feeling like he was unlovable, too broken for someone to want to piece back together.
"I love you more."
It has him moving into a cramped little apartment with soft kisses and coffee every morning. Poetry notebooks and sappy love letters covering every surface.
And who would have ever imagined that what started out as two strangers in an empty cafe ended like this. Ended with two imperfect people who were so unbelievable in love, so unbelinevably perfect for each other, finding out how it feels to trace patterns into soft skin and fall asleep so wrapped up in one another they can't find where one begins and the other ends.
Falling in love from far away doesn't always end with happily ever after. But for two lovers in an empty cafe, it absolutely does.