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Dazai was awake before Chuuya; this was nothing new. Kunikida would be distressed to know that Dazai was usually awake even before him, and he did nothing with the extra time. Normally, he would spend the quiet hours before Chuuya stirred to plot out unwinnable strategies and then tear them apart by finding the holes he’d missed in his planning.
This morning was different. At first he couldn't put his finger on what made this morning unlike others. He'd long grown used to waking up on silk sheets instead of a rough futon. Of the quiet heights of their loft in contrast to the bustle of the ADA dorms.
That Chuuya was beautiful was something Dazai had never bothered to deny. His cherubic features at fifteen had been shaped and chiseled into a masterpiece that could make Narcissus look away from himself. That beauty was now highlighted by the soft sunlight pouring in through sheer curtains.
Another thing Dazai had grown used to was the blackout curtains Chuuya used in their bedroom. The height of their bedroom and the fact that it faced east made it almost a requirement.
Chuuya, incapable of going a month without indulging in some new gadget or luxury, acquired a timed curtain rod. Set to open slowly as the sun rose, something Chuuya insisted was good for the body.
The sun's rays made the hints of gold in Chuuya's hair glow. Dazai remembered a similar glow fifteen years ago; the first time he'd looked up from the ground and saw a punk kid with fire in his eyes and hair to match. He'd been struck by the momentary thought that the boy was beautiful, quickly shoved aside at hearing the little pipsqueak talk.
The longer Chuuya's hair grew, the more Dazai found himself staring at it. It practically reached Chuuya's middle back now. He normally kept it tied back, but now it was splayed over the blue silk of his pillow.
Blue, Dazai's favorite color, though he couldn't tell you when he'd discovered this fact. One day he was asked the simple question and blue was what automatically came to him. Blue like the sea. Like the sky when the sun has cleared the horizon. Blue, like the flowers Dazai had bought a lifetime ago, an attempt at being romantic.
"Hydrangeas?"
The look on Chuuya's face was thankfully one of confusion and not distaste. Dazai was the one bringing him flowers, so Chuuya had expected some grandiose bouquet full of the flowers whose language most had forgotten.
"I had thought to bring you camelias, but—," he smiled, shyly, and the fact that it was genuine came as a shock to him. "They made me think of your eyes."
Dinner had been hastily heated leftovers in between romps across the entirety of Chuuya's penthouse.
Much of their initial cohabitation—Dazai wasn't sleeping at his dorm, but he wasn't quite moved in—was spent eating take out or leftovers due to missing dinner reservations, and cooking becoming a side note.
These days they spent a bit more time in bed doing actual sleeping. Not that Dazai was complaining. In fact, six hours was becoming a norm for him, and he found himself feeling a fair bit less distant and empty.
Chuuya let out a soft grumble, a sure sign he was soon to wake up. Dazai couldn't help but smile at the little furrow that always appeared between Chuuya's eyebrows. Whether he was concentrating on a book, preparing dinner, or trying to determine what sort of shenanigans Dazai was up to, that little furrow was always there.
It had taken years for Dazai to learn to accept the truths of how he felt about the man laying next to him. That his hair was soft and Dazai yearned to run his fingers through it.
His eyes were bright and Dazai liked them best when they were on him.
Chuuya's voice was raspy but soft, a contrast of sugar syrup over sandpaper. The way his lips quirked with a crooked but smug smile, and the barking laugh that would often follow.
"I love you."
Dazai could still remember the feeling that sank into his bones the first time Chuuya had said those words to him. He had been struck silent for the first time in his recent memory.
"I don't expect you to say it back. I just needed you to know. Because, we should be honest, even if it hurts."
That had stung, but Chuuya wasn't wrong. Dazai couldn't say it back. Not because he didn't want to, oh he desperately wanted to say it. But the honesty that existed between them meant that Dazai had to mean it.
How could he mean something he didn't understand? What was love?
As Chuuya's eyes opened and Dazai watched them focus on him, it clicked. Love was red hair that glowed gold. Blue eyes with a secret fire within them.
Love was the gentle smile that only Dazai got to see. It was the rough and calloused fingers trailing over Dazai's cheek.
Love was Chuuya, and all the things that Dazai had let himself admit he liked—no, loved.
"Good morning," Chuuya said, his voice sleepy and warm.
"I love you." Dazai whispered it across the pillow like a secret meant to be kept between them. The way Chuuya's eyes seemed to snap open made Dazai anxious at first, as though he shouldn't have said it. But again, that gentle and warm grin appeared.
" 'Bout time, you dumb mackerel," he sighed, sliding across the bed to curl up against Dazai's chest.
They had things to do that morning, but both seemed to agree they could wait. The important thing now was to simply enjoy the moment, savor the simple pleasure of waking up next to the person you love.
Dazai found himself nodding off, but not before a whisper of words sent goosebumps down his neck.
"I love you too, Osamu."