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Compared to all the colorful, fancy racket outside in the ballroom, the silence that falls over their quarters once the door closes is rattling. At least, during the celebrations, Chuuya could pretend to be too occupied with the different food and all the well-wishings from the strange faces and being the prince of a new kingdom instead of talking to this — this man — his husband — but now? Now there's only the two of them and the four walls around them. No distraction keeping them from talking to each other.
"Uh, what —" Chuuya starts asking at the same time as Dazai says, "Do you want—"
They both stop to stare at each other awkwardly. Chuuya still hovering at the door. Dazai near the window with his dark hair slicked back and tucked behind one ear, the jacket he's wearing over the silver-embroidered vest even darker, and his eyes — night incarnate.
"You go first," Dazai tells him.
"I... I forgot what I wanted to say," Chuuya admits and scratches the back of his head. It wasn't that important anyway, he's sure — just something to fill this awful silence.
"Then I go first." Dazai takes a look out of the window, then draws the heavy ruby-red curtains shut before shooting Chuuya a glance. "Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?"
Chuuya blinks. "Hah?"
"The bed," Dazai nudges his chin towards it, "is probably big enough for the two of us, but I can take the couch. Or I can ask one of the servants for another room."
"But we're married."
A flicker of amusement glimmers in Dazai's eyes. It somehow adds to that predatory handsomeness of him, the lines of his jaw and tilt of his smirk savage and wild and devastatingly beautiful and — Chuuya smothers his thoughts by crossing his arms and shooting him a glare. "So we're married," Dazai says with a casual shrug, "but I think we both know that it isn't anything but a political tool for our families and their kingdoms. And," his eyes drag from top to bottom of Chuuya's body, making him feel awfully exposed under his gaze, "it's not like anyone is expecting heirs from us."
Right.
"I don't care," Chuuya huffs out, stalking to the bed in question and sitting down to test the mattress. Huh. It's a good one. Perhaps even better than his bed at home. Definitely better than the shitty cots in the training barracks. "I don't want us to get in trouble."
"We are royalty. No one's going to try to tell us what's wrong or not."
Chuuya turns to him to raise one brow. "Our titles didn't stop our families from arranging this marriage and coupling us like two damn horses."
For a few moments, Dazai looks at him. Then he barks out a laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"You," Dazai replies and sits down on the other bed — flops down, actually. Spreading his arms and letting out a sigh, he looks at the tester of their canopy bed. "You're right. In the end, we're nothing but pawns as well, but hey, at least, that means we did our job. Now we can sit back and let the kings and queens play their little chess games."
Chuuya twists his torso to scowl at his — husband, or whatever. "Hah, do nothing? I'm expected to be my kingdom's emissary now!"
"Huh. Well, good luck with that."
"Are you lazy or something?" Chuuya tugs at one of Dazai's hair strands, making him clutch the spot with a pained grimace. "I thought you were supposed to be the genius son, but you don't sound like a genius at all."
"Being a genius for these people is exhausting," Dazai murmurs. "I would rather be a fish."
"A fish?!"
"Yes. We have this pond in our gardens. I used to play there when I was younger. Very beautiful. Very cared for. I think the fish there have it better than most people in this land. I would like to become one of them."
"That's fucking stupid."
"What's stupid is becoming an emissary and working for a bunch of old geezers who will push you around until your skin falls off. Becoming a fish and living a quiet, peaceful life with your other fish fellows, on the other hand? Genius, if I do say so myself."
Chuuya lets himself fall backward without really thinking about how close it would put his face to Dazai's. It gets his heart racing for a couple of dizzying seconds — seconds in which Chuuya realizes just how pretty Dazai is, all over again. It was the first thought that crossed his mind when he first saw Dazai, waiting for him in the throne room with an entire hall of people watching them like hawks, pretending it's a marriage instead of a treaty between two kingdoms that have been at war for the last century. Pretty.
Pretty tall.
Pretty good-looking.
Pretty quiet.
Pretty —
"Different," Chuuya mutters quietly. "You are different from what I thought you'd be when they first told me about the marriage."
"You're not the legendary soldier all the tales have made you out to be yourself."
"I am a good soldier!"
"A very awkward one."
"It's because this —" Chuuya flings his hand through the air. "— All of this is very awkward. We are husbands. Do you realize that?! I've never even had a boyfriend before, and suddenly I'm married. Of course, it's fucking awkward!"
Dazai makes a curious noise in the back of his throat. "I've never had a relationship before either. The king always said that it would be a distraction. Something useless."
"Well, look at you now."
"Look at me now," Dazai agrees with a quiet hum. "Finally useless."
Chuuya huffs out a low laugh. "So legendary, you say? I would have thought your people would hate every one of us."
Because back home, no one has a lot of love left for the court of Arkadia, full of lethal, dangerous, and cunning creatures that have been burning their crops and slaughtering their troops for far too long. Deep down, Chuuya has always known that in war — there are no innocent parties except the civilians that get caught in the crossfire. It's hard, though, almost impossible to remember that when you see an enemy soldier slit the throat of a friend, of the people you trained and fought with. That's why this sudden alliance came as a surprise to most of the kingdom, including Chuuya, who thought his mother was telling him a terrible joke. Rumors say there's another war coming, though — one that will be greater than the last four ones combined. There have been sightings of ships and spies from the coast towns. An enemy from the other side of the narrow sea.
And the enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?
"Well, I don't think anyone has used the word legend," Dazai tells him with the hint of a smile in his voice. "More like that motherfucking brat and the Arahabakian hellhound. Considering the tales sound like legends, what with the vivid description and exaggerated action scenes, I felt free to use that word."
"You were never there on the battlefields. How'd you know whether it was exaggerated or not, huh?"
"No one can take out a hundred soldiers at once unless people are exaggerating for entertainment purposes and scaring techniques."
Well, a hundred would be laying it on thick, Chuuya admits that, but — "I was the best martial artist in the entire kingdom and the general of the army. I am good."
"You're pretty young to be the general."
"You're pretty young to be considered the king's snake, but that didn't stop anyone from calling you that, huh?"
"Touché, Chuuya. Touché."
Once again, silence stretches between them. A gentler one this time. Less stifling. Less heavy. Chuuya turns his head a little, getting another close look at Dazai's face before their eyes meet, and Chuuya glaces back up, swallowing down the knot in his throat that forms every time Dazai's so close.
Ironic, really, considering they shared a kiss not even two hours ago at the wedding ceremony. A dry and brief one, their mouths closed, hands cold where they held each other for a few moments. But a kiss nonetheless.
And it's not like Chuuya is a bashful virgin who blushes because of mere eye contact. He's had his fair share of experiences in the last years. The training camps create... profound bonds between soldiers who share living quarters, physical exertion, and losses alike. It was different, though. A lot more different than lying on a bed with the guy that is now your husband and trying to get a better peek at his handsome face without being obvious about it.
Everything is so different now.
"By the way," Dazai's soothing voice says at some point, "you still haven't answered the question."
"Hm?" Chuuya muffles his yawn with the palm of his hand, trying to blink through the leeching exhaustion crawling over his body like fog. "Wha' question?"
"Whether you want me to sleep somewhere else."
"Oh, that. I don't mind. I shared my sleeping space with others most of my life, so I don't see why I should stop now. Unless you don't want to?"
Dazai doesn't reply. His silence lasts for so long that Chuuya cranes his neck to check whether he has perhaps fallen prey to sleep as well, but his eyes are still open, still dark as they lazily look at the ceiling. "I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes. It might be bothersome."
"Wake up to piss?"
"No. Wake up from dreadful dreams."
"Oh, you mean night terrors?"
"If that's what you want to call them."
Chuuya's brows furrow as he considers these words. He's no stranger to nightmares, although when they attack, they rarely grant him the freedom of waking up. Most of the time, they pin him down until the bitter end and beyond.
"I'm used to those as well," Chuuya murmurs eventually.
"Heh, what a catch you are, Nakahara Chuuya. If we weren't already married, I would get down on my knee right now."
"I mean," Chuuya says matter-of-factly, "you're welcome to get down on your knees anyway. It is our wedding, after all."
His face twists into a cringing expression of pain the moment the words leave his mouth. Joking around blowjobs already? Really?
But Dazai doesn't give him any weird looks. He doesn't look offended either. He just... chuckles. "Tempting offer," he says, and when Chuuya hums curiously at that, Dazai arches his brows. "What? Am I supposed to deny that you're attractive?" Chuuya's eyes narrow. "You've got a beautiful face, and that red hair blue eyes combination is wicked. But... I'm too beat to do anything tonight, let alone get on my knees. Way too much work."
Chuuya lets out a soft snort. "You really are like a fish."
"Once you see the fish, you'll wish to be one as well."
"It sounds cute, I guess, for a few minutes, but I still have too many things I want to do in my life to spend the rest of it swimming in circles." With that, Chuuya starts to sit up. It's hard after getting so comfortable on the bed, especially with all the fancy but heavy clothes he's wearing. "And those things don't include sleeping in my clothes."
"Getting naked already? My, how forward, Nakahara ~."
"Not naked," Chuuya mutters as he starts tugging off the tight material clinging to his body like a second skin, turned away from Dazai so that he can, at least, keep some of his dignity here.
"Usually, I find out my partner's favorite color, or their birthdate, or favorite dish before getting into bed with th—"
"I'm not getting into bed with you, mackerel!" Chuuya stomps over just to glare at Dazai, where he's hazily blinking up at Chuuya in his nightgown, cream-white colors reaching a little past his knees because his damn growth spurt still hasn't kicked in yet.
"Technically, you are."
"Not like that."
"Like what?" Dazai challenges, probably just to be annoying.
"You know like what," Chuuya barks. "My God, if I knew I was marrying the most annoying person in the entire goddamn kingdom, I wouldn't have tried so hard to survive in the last battle I fought."
"Mmmm, there's still time for that." Dazai scrambles to sit up, bracing himself on the bed with his hands. "I'll tell you a secret. One of my favorite dreams has always been to die through a double suicide with a beautiful woman. You're no woman, but I guess the pretty part should be enough as well."
Chuuya's brows jump up. "The fuck are you even talking about? Double suicide?!"
"You know when two people take their lives to—"
"I know what a double suicide is, mackerel! What I don't understand is why you're talking about wanting that!"
Dazai's smile has the shape of that same self-satisfaction that Chuuya has grown used to terrifyingly quickly, but — there's something off-kilter about the expression. An edge of subtle bitterness laced into the curve of his mouth. "You'll find out soon enough, chibi. Don't worry."
Finally, turning around to get to the other side of the bed, Chuuya makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. "Chibi? Really?!"
"If you call me mackerel, it's only fair for me to give you an accurate nickname as well."
"I call you mackerel because you keep babbling about becoming a damn fish!"
"And I call you chibi because you're small like one ~!"
"I'm still growing!"
Dazai shoots back another reply, but it gets muffled when he disappears in the other room with the closet. Chuuya uses his absence to crawl into bed, fluff up his pillows, and pull up the sheets to his chin as he sinks deeper into the nest of their bed.
Dazai takes longer.
Hundreds of thoughts swirl through Chuuya's head. Most of them revolve around this idiot that he somehow ended up marrying and how it's not nearly as bad as he made it out to be on the ride to Arkadia. It's not perfect. Dazai's kind of annoying. Kind of silly and awkward. But it's — it's doable.
By the time the bed dips under the added weight of a second person sliding under the sheets, Chuuya's on the edge between sleep and consciousness, but he still manages to open his mouth and murmur, "'y favorite color is..." He yawns. "... red."
"That's a beautiful color," Dazai's voice whispers into the darkness. "Mine is blue."