Chapter Text
“Listen. Papa , I can’t—”
Paul sighs dramatically. “What I’m hearing is, you don't like spending time with your family anymore. That’s it isn’t it?”
“This is ridiculous.” Chuuya turns to Arthur with a pleading look on his face. “Dad, please.”
Arthur simply hides behind his book.
“See! Now you made your other papa sad.” Paul clutches his shirt at the area above where his heart should be. “We’re heart broken.”
Chuuya groans. “There’s nothing I can do! I’m flying to Singapore tomorrow!”
And okay - that was definitely not the plan. He definitely did not mean to just spring that on his parents. In Chuuya’s defense, it was supposed to be a step-by-step process of buttering up his fathers to his favor, only asking for their golden permission because he knows they’ll say yes after the success of step one, and then casually letting them know that “ Oh, I actually have a ticket already… Ha-ha. Cool, thanks!”
But of course, Paul just had to buy five tickets of premium seats for a theater show tomorrow and now Chuuya looks like a horrible, ungrateful son.
It’s silent around the table save for the sound of Akiko sipping her tea. Beside her, Kouyou is miserably failing at hiding her dubious smirk. Paul is obviously baffled while Arthur is left to mollify his husband’s shock - anger? - by rubbing soothing circles on his back.
Another beat passes. Chuuya awkwardly chews his food whilst wishing he could hide from his papa’s stare. When Paul speaks again, he actually sounds like he’s about to cry. “Mon cheri, are you running away? Do you not love us anymore?”
And what the hell is he supposed to say to that, huh? He doesn’t even have an intelligent reason why he’s going to Singapore on a random weekend.
Well, he has a reason - of course he does - but it’s not at all intelligent. Chuuya doesn’t even think it’s sensible either.
The devil that he is, Dazai keeps sending him pictures of dimsum, of tourist spots, of a world so far away, and Chuuya… Chuuya wants to be there too.
It was bearable the first four weeks that Dazai left for his summer semester overseas but seven weeks and counting, and a blackhole is starting to form inside Chuuya’s chest. His breaking point came in the form of a gratuitous self-portrait. Dazai so very rarely takes pictures of himself, so of course Chuuya’s natural reaction to seeing a photo of Dazai pouting on his screen with the words ‘Wish you were here :(’ edited above his forehead in a very specific shade of orange text is to book a fucking flight to all the way to Singapore.
It made sense last night. It really did. Even Kouyou and Akiko were supportive, although they did start cackling to themselves a little after his purchase. Gin, their cousin who is also studying at the same university Dazai was temporarily enrolled at, was also supportively flooding his inbox with a bunch of restaurant and hotel suggestions.
Now, though? With Paul looking so crushed? Chuuya is suddenly not so sure anymore.
“No!” Chuuya squeaks. “Papa, why - why would you even think of that in the first place?! I’ve been a good son!”
“Then why are you going to Singapore all of a sudden?”
Chuuya cycles through a number of thoughts in a matter of seconds.
Does he want to go there for the gastronomic experience? Absolutely. Apparently their bowls of laksa are to die for (Dazai’s words, not his).
Does he want to see the Supertree Grove? Sure, he’s always been appreciative of the pictures on Instagram.
Okay and - does he miss Dazai? Well, that’s up for debate.
He opens his mouth to say something about self-traveling and discovery, but of course it’s a Wednesday night and their long withstanding friendship with the Fukuzawa-Ougai household just means their neighbors come strolling at perfect timing. Elise runs up to place butterfly kisses on Akiko’s cheek, blond curls bobbing up and down with every motion, while Ryuunosuke plants himself at the empty seat beside Chuuya.
The seat that should be Dazai’s. Eughhhhh!
Mori’s white coat swishes behind him when he strides in the dining area. He says, “Who’s leaving for Singapore too? Oho, for NUS?”
Chuuya wants to bang his head on the table.
“Osamu is there,” Fukuzawa kindly reminds Paul and Arthur. “He was invited for a summer semester.”
Everything comes flooding back to Paul. “ Oh, I remember now!” How convenient. “So you’re visiting Dazai-kun!”
Chuuya now effectively bangs his head on the table.
“Why didn’t you say sooner?” says Arthur, closing his book with what Chuuya can only describe as a 'cheeky' smile. “Could have saved us from the theatrics, you know.” At that, Paul swats his hand away with amped-up dramatics.
“Dazai invited you over?” Mori takes a bite of his food. He sounds amused.
But that’s the thing isn’t it? “No,” Chuuya grumbles, because he knows Dazai was definitely just teasing him with the photo. The message might not even be for him, now that he really considers it, because it could have been some missent message for someone else. Maybe it’s even for some girl or another.
Surprisingly, it’s Ryuunosuke who speaks up. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the surprise.” And then he mumbles something poorly under the guise of a cough that Chuuya didn’t quite catch.
He appreciates the sincerity but he also knows he has been impulsive. He knows Dazai has an upcoming exam and he has requirements to finish, and the picture was probably just a way for him to distract himself from actually doing his schoolwork, so dropping in might be a terrible thing after all.
It seems as if refunding the ticket is the most logical solution.
Until of course, Fukuzawa stares him down from the end of the table and seals his fate. “He most definitely will. Osamu keeps telling me how much he misses you.”
And if there’s anyone he absolutely trusts in Dazai’s entire family, it would be this man. Fukuzawa never, never lies.
Chuuya boards the plane early the next day.
—
Singapore is a busy city. Loud, a little crowded, but it’s charming all the same. This isn’t by any means his first time in the city but he only ever did travel here to attend family reunions or other business-related endeavors, so with the prospect of seeing a his best friend and exploring the city together without any other obligations to think about - well it’s safe to say that Chuuya is quite excited.
Tall skyscrapers welcome him as he navigates the streets. His senses are bombarded with foreign sights and sounds, and the buzz under his skin gradually turns into sparks of energy when he sees that Dazai’s university is a mere fifteen-minute drive from the hotel he’s checked in.
Hah! He can almost picture the dumbfounded look of surprise on Dazai’s face when they eventually see each other. He’s glad Dazai is practically incapable of keeping his schedule to himself, always sending Chuuya his updated school calendar. It really makes surprising him all the more easier.
He checks the time: he has at least two more hours to kill.
Chuuya spends the first hour eating and then getting settled in his suite. Then he takes great advantage of the luxurious bathroom to get ready to head out, and while the Maserati is a little too much, he’s glad for Paul and Arthur for convincing him to rent a private car for convenience’s sake, and all that.
He is also glad for his own foresight to leave earlier than planned, because the university campus all but swallowed him in its belly. Even with the GPS he makes several wrong turns and he ends up in the biomedical campus rather than the center for language and arts.
Much to his embarrassment, he had to call Gin to help sort out his directional dilemma, but at least he gets to Dazai’s building right at the mark where he’s most likely finishing up with the test.
Several minutes later, a few students start filing out from the building. He studies the crowd — no familiar brunette. Strange, Dazai said he was always the first one to finish answering exams.
[Nakahara Chuuya]: are u not done yet
Another group passes him by. He checks the time, ten minutes past Dazai’s schedule.
Is he in the wrong building?
He taps an SOS text to Gin, but he wishes Dazai would just reply already because he’s getting really antsy, eugh , where the hell—
“Chuuya?”
He snaps his eyes up and there in front of him, in all his glory, stands Dazai. It has only been two months - he shouldn’t be this fucking glad to see Dazai, but he is, for some stupid reason, he is .
Chuuya wouldn’t really describe himself as clingy. It’d be the last word he’d ever describe himself but when you’ve grown up with the same person since you were in kindergarten, and your weekends are stitched around each other, well, the absence becomes so pronounced and deep that the first encounter after a long while feels like resurfacing from deep waters.
Chuuya grins and ignoring the hummingbird beat of his heart, he says as casually as he could, “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” He notices how Dazai's hair have grown longer, his bangs almost at the point of obscuring his eyes. Ah, it definitely has been too long, then.
“Oh you know. Just casually roaming around.”
Dazai looks more confused than surprised, and he might have expected a lot more fanfare from Dazai, but whatever. At least the slight pink flush to his cheeks is there. One isn’t always presented with the opportunity to see a flustered Dazai, after all.
“What the… Chuuya~ I’m really glad you’re here,” says Dazai. He smiles, but Chuuya sees the slight hesitation in his movement. Then he’s looking around again as if he’s waiting for someone to pop in out of nowhere. “Ah, look—”
Chuuya feels his heart hammering urgently.
“Is this not a good time for—?”
“Osamu gege! I told you to wait for me outside the bathroom! I was looking everywhere for you!”
And - oh - someone does magically appear from thin air.
She latches on to Dazai’s side - ah… - ever so slightly resting her head on his arm. Brown eyes, silk spun hair, pink lips - objectively beautiful.
Also objectively Dazai’s type.
“Ueno-chan,” says Dazai with a delighted tone to his voice, and then he accepts the kiss pressed on cheek with an easy smile. She tangles their hands together, as if they've done this multiple times already. “Sorry about that~ Look who’s here, Ueno-chan! Meet my friend, Chuuya!”
She tips in a polite bow and then flashes him a very pretty grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chuuya-san! Motoya Ueno, at your service.”
He pushes down whatever ugly emotions that are starting to stir inside his chest, all his grandmère's lessons in manners flipping on like a switch in his brain. “The pleasure is all mine, Motoya-san.”
She smiles again, and then she switches to Mandarin.
While Chuuya is fluent in five languages, Dazai is fluent in six, and it’s partly irritating, the way he’s just left standing there listening in to whatever the two are talking about. Discreetly, he shoots a series of texts to Gin.
Osamu gege this, Osamu gege that.
Just who is this girl and what made her special enough for Dazai to let her use his name so casually?
Chuuya feels like he’s going to keel over.
But it’s not like it’s Ueno’s fault. She seems polite. Maybe it’s just the fact that he doesn’t like being left out in conversations, much less having other people switch languages to deliberately keep him thrown off the loop. To top it all off, Dazai himself knows that. How can he practically do so in front of Chuuya is beyond his comprehension. Eugh — what’s taking Gin so long?
At long last, the pair eventually remembers that Chuuya is standing there and they turn their attention back to him. “I’m also in the same summer program Osamu is in,” Ueno switches back to Japanese and answers the burning question at the back of Chuuya's head. “I actually heard that a new batch of students was arriving today! Are you perhaps part of the group?”
Chuuya’s mouth feels dry and it’s a miracle he manages to talk past the building cotton in his throat. “No, actually. I’m just visiting family in Sentosa.”
What the fuck are you talking about… Well, it’s not like the couple has to know about it. Even Dazai looks half convinced.
Ueno’s quick on her feet though. She tilts her head to the side in askance. “Oh, cool! Hmm. But why are you here in—”
“Chuuya!”
Merde. Chuuya thanks all their ancestors for the miraculous timing because now it’s Gin who appears out of nowhere, wearing a beautiful summer dress, white and flowy, looking much like the angelic savior that Chuuya needs. “Thanks for waiting for me!”
They make quick introductions and Gin naturally falls in the role of an NUS student welcoming two exchange students. “Welcome to the department,” Gin says with an easy gentleness. She has that air of confidence in the way that she carries herself even if she’s technically younger than them. “I was a volunteer proctor for the other class and a lot of students took longer to finish, so I was running a little late.” She casts a knowing look towards Chuuya. “Sorry about that. Shall we? I’m really starving.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” says Chuuya.
Gin smiles, “Been looking forward to it since this morning.”
Chuuya’s heart is so heavy that he feels it sinking down to his feet. He turns to Dazai, but he’s cut off before he could even talk “Until when are you staying here?” Dazai asks.
“Sunday,” answers Chuuya. In truth, he was looking forward to a week-long stay. Something tells him he’s not quite as welcome as he expected, though. Cutting his trip short seems the most logical option.
Dazai’s eyes dart between him and Gin. “I’ll text you? If you’re not busy, we can—”
Chuuya forces a smile. “Hey, no pressure. I’ll see you when I see you, yeah? It was great meeting you, Ueno-san.”
He leads Gin to his parking space, trying not to roll his eyes when he hears the grating sound of the couple giggling behind them. He fails, of course, and Gin out right laughs at his demise.
“You’re welcome,” she says playfully as she closes the car door.
Chuuya dramatically hangs his head over the steering wheel. “I owe you. Seriously.”
Gin fixes him with a stern look. “Are you okay? You seemed a little… off.”
“It was fucking awkward,” says Chuuya defensively as he secures his seatbelt. “They were flirting and I was in the middle of it. Disgusting.”
“Yeah? Want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” he says. There is nothing else to post-process about the interaction, about the sudden heaviness in his chest, about the way his heart leapt to his throat when Dazai easily accepted a kiss, about—
“Chuuya, you good?”
“Yeah.” He loosens his hold on the steering wheel. He hadn’t even noticed how hard he was gripping it. “Do you think auntie would be willing to shelter me for at least one night?”
He didn’t imagine his trip would pan out this way, and spending the night alone in the hotel is the last thing he wants to do. He might as well ‘visit family’, as he so declared.
“Chuuya,” Gin snorts. With burning certainty in her eyes she says, “Maman won’t even need a reason to throw a whole dinner party just for you.”
And Auntie Chiyo quite literally does so, just as Gin said.
In fact, ‘dinner party’ was even too subtle of a term, because Chuuya is absolutely floored at the extravagant amounts of food and the open bar that greets them when they get to Gin’s house. It had been a busy day of exploring the city, Gin showing him around to her favorite places - ‘hidden gems’, as she called them - and he was just expecting a small, intimate gathering of this side of the family for dinner, but Aunt Chiyo really went over and beyond to organize a fancy banquet.
And at such short notice, too.
“I’m…” Chuuya’s eyes flit from the group of women playing mahjong at one corner, and a group of men - their husbands, maybe? - chatting amongst themselves at the other, cradling a flute of champagne each.
Gin is laughing beside him. “I told you. You know how they are. ‘Any reason is a good enough reason to party,’ or so papa likes to say.”
Right - and if there's anything their entire family is good at, it definitely is geared towards self-indulgence.
Aunt Chiyo appears and sweeps him in a warm hug just as Gin says that, very much proving her point by instructing them to ‘enjoy the night, young ones’.
“Cheers,” Gin lifts a glass to her lips.
The party dissolves into a blur of drinking and endless card games. At one point, Gin invites her friends over and he’s introduced to a guy named Albatross who spends the first half of the night teaching Chuuya how to perfectly do a fishtail braid. There's Sasaki, chaos incarnate, who initiates all sorts of drinking games that Chuuya can't ever seem to understand the instructions, and Lippmann who was very insistent on holding a karaoke contest. While it's a circle of strangers, Chuuya finds himself not worrying about it at all. It's nice and they're very accommodating, and thankfully enough they do keep conversation exclusively Japanese, so there's not a moment where he feels left out.
But still, the annoyance at the back of his head continues its assault, even more so when he sees his empty phone inbox when Dazai would normally be bombarding him with text messages at this hour. Must be busy with his Ueno-chan, or something. Eugh.
He lifts his wine glass to his lips. The room is starting to slowly tilt and Chuuya is starting to feel a little floaty. What were they talking about again? “By the way, what does gege mean?”
Sasaki giggles and nearly spills her drink on Gin. She waggles her eyebrows conspiratoringly and coos, “Ooh~ I think Chuuya gege has a nice ring to it~”
“Please shut up.” Gin steals the glass away from her and lightly shoves her away. Sasaki giggles all the more. “Ignore her.”
“It’s literally ‘big brother’,” Albatross supplies helpfully. He’s munching on an assortment of snacks, comfortably sprawled out on the carpet. "Some also use it as a term of affection. Or some flirty pet name, I guess."
Sasaki crows. "Albatross gege~"
Albatross snorts and lightly kicks her legs. “Why’d you ask?”
Chuuya presses his lips on his glass.
Osamu gege! I told you to wait for me outside the bathroom! I was looking everywhere for you!
“Nothing,” he swallows his drink in one gulp. His stomach burns. Hmm. Must definitely be the wine. “Just curious.”
The revelation spurs something inside his chest and Chuuya posts pictures on all his socials if only to prove a point. Some twisted sense of satisfaction floods inside him when he later sees that Dazai has viewed or liked most of his photos.
Ha. Take that, asshole.
But unpredictably so, the whole scheme backfires on him because the following day, Paul is practically bawling his eyes out on FaceTime.
“You must hate your family so much for you to just suddenly uproot and move to Sentosa! How ever did we fail you, mon cheri? Are you even planning to come home?”
Chuuya massages his temples. “Papa, you’re being dramatic—”
“Am I?” Paul fakes a sniff. “But I thought you were going to spend the weekend with Dazai?”
All at once: static.
“Yeah,” he says slowly. He swallows the lump in his throat that hasn't disappeared even with all the alcohol from last night. “I - ah. I thought so too.”
“Oh.” Yeah, oh. “Chuuya… Are you okay?”
The heavy weight on his chest returns. Chuuya forces an exhale. “Yeah. It was just bad timing, I guess. He was with someone when I got there. They were going out on a date, I think. Maybe I should have texted him after all.”
Without a party to distract him, Chuuya is forced to acknowledge the knot in his stomach, the same uneasiness he’s been feeling since he saw Ueno press a kiss on Dazai’s cheek.
From beside him, Gin pats his shoulder in an attempt to comfort.
But what Chuuya didn’t actually understand was why he needed to be comforted in the first place. Is he upset? Definitely so. But at who?
At Dazai? Himself? The whole situation?
Shouldn’t he be happy for his best friend because Dazai is in what seemed to be a nice, uncomplicated relationship with a beautiful, and undoubtedly smart, girl?
He has always been rooting for Dazai’s happiness. Chuuya has been the one trying to convince him to go on dates, even going as far as setting him up with other people who he knows will take good care of his best friend, someone he’ll like enough to let them call him Osamu.
This is good. Great, even, so—
So why the hell does he feel so damn jealous?
“Ah. Shit.”
A meaningful and stunned pause. “Mon cheri ? Is everything alright?”
“Of course. I’ll call you later, papa. I’m going to take a bath.” And he clicks the call before Paul could try and pick at his brain.
Jealous.
He’s jealous.
A thousand million thoughts are running through his head at incredible speeds. It feels like getting thrown off a moving car, or getting drenched with cold water from his head down to his toes.
"Gin." He stares right at her. Chuuya says carefully, "I’m bisexual.”
She looks at him with a bored look. As kindly as she could, Gin says, “Chuuya. You know you can’t come out to me twice, right?”
“You don’t understand,” he says barely above a panicked whisper. He inhales sharply. “I think I might be in love with Dazai.”
Realization hits him like a lightning strike — fast and brutal, with electricity burning his skin and jumpstarting his heart.
Chuuya was not just missing him.
He was outright longing for Dazai’s presence, his warmth. The comfort of having him by his side, telling him the most absurd stories and jokes, the safety of simply having their shoulders pressed against each other when they’re watching a movie. The simple joys of just being with Dazai.
It suddenly starts to make sense. The fondness he has reserved only for his best friend, only ever feeling content, treasured, and valued when it’s him. Always looking for a piece of Dazai in everyone he meets. The hole in his heart that is never satisfied.
He’s been in love with Dazai for years.
The emptiness in his chest when Dazai isn’t there, the absolute harrowing displeasure when Ueno kissed him and held his hands—
The devastation is just as quick to settle in his bones: Dazai doesn’t feel the same way.
And more hauntingly: Dazai won’t ever feel the same for me.
He isn’t so selfish as to burden Dazai with his feelings when he already has Ueno-chan. Above all, he can’t just simply confess and ruin the balance they’ve created between each other. Dazai is not so shallow to avoid him just because Chuuya might have feelings for him - but he does know that Dazai does not do well with change, either. Especially not with things like these.
Confessing would be too cruel for them both.
He stares at his reflection on the tea Gin poured out for him. “Is it so bad?” Gin says with a gentle caress to his shoulder.
“Yeah.” Chuuya hangs his head on the table. “Yeah. You have no idea.”
Maybe flying out here was a terrible idea, after all.
—
Chuuya thinks it’s awfully unfair for the universe to thrust upon him two life-changing realizations in one day. He’s pissed to say the least, but if there’s one thing he learned from his papa, it’s that being either sad or frustrated is reason enough to spoil oneself.
Self-care, if you will.
And one should not waste their time simply imagining Singapore’s shopping district, yes?
So he comes back to his hotel room still feeling a little glum due to all his Dazai-related feelings and because Gin has some obligations she has to finish at school so she had to leave Chuuya to his crippling thoughts, but at least he was able to buy everything he tried on in Gucci and Dior so whatever!
He’s going to be totally fine.
And then the hotel phone rings just as he finishes his bath, and he realizes that no, he’s not actually going to be fine, especially when the concierge says, “Good evening, Mister Nakahara. A certain Mister Dazai Osamu is in the lobby. He says you’re expecting him but I don’t think we received any instructions. Should we let him in or should we call security?”
Motherfu—
Chuuya presses his nose bridge. “Send him up, please. Thank you.”
And like some cosmic joke, here Dazai stands in the middle of his suite, pouting at him with his arms folded above his chest. “You weren’t replying to my texts, Chuuya!”
Chuuya’s heart does not pick up speed. It does not. “Hands were kind of full,” he gestures vaguely at the shoppings bags. “How did you even know where I’m staying?”
“I asked Paul-san, naturally.”
Chuuya swallows. “Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. I was going to ask him something but I thought I should just ask you directly.” The air shifts, and Dazai puts on a very calculating look to his face.
Dazai steps closer. With such a small distance between them, Chuuya can smell the sandalwood cologne sticking to Dazai’s skin.
He’s looking at Chuuya with a certain intensity when he says, “Why are you at a hotel when you said you were visiting family? You’ve never done that before. And if it’s for a family reunion, why aren’t Paul and Arhur here with you?”
Bastard.
It would be so easy to simply offer up his heart to Dazai then and there. The words threaten to spill from his lips, pushing past his trachea. I missed you, he could picture himself saying. I missed you and I wanted to see you, and I realized I was actually in love with you all along.
Chuuya doesn’t consider himself a coward but maybe fear counts the most when the relationship you have with someone you trust with your entire life is what is at stake. He can’t do this — he can’t, won’t, push Dazai away.
He swallows down the words and lies, “Papa has a meeting in Tokyo.” He forces a laugh. “Right? I hated it too. I thought I wasn’t welcome at first but their house was apparently undergoing renovations, and auntie didn’t want us to be disturbed by the construction noises, so.”
“But you were at their house yesterday?”
There really are moments where he hates how keen Dazai’s eyes are for details. “Yeah, but they're renovating the bedrooms at the main wing.” Chuuya shrugs. “Gin is also staying at a hotel near the school campus. I drove her there this morning.” It was really more of the fact that Gin was going to meet-up with a friend, and he had to play chauffeur.
“Oh,” says Dazai with a very unconvinced look. “What’s the reunion for? What were you celebrating?”
“Geez ,” Chuuya plays it off with a roll of his eyes. “What is this, 21 Questions? Chiyo-san wanted to show off her gardens.”
Partly true. His aunt did give him a tour around the new garden maze earlier this morning. She also had a new greenhouse set-up and she spent at least two hours teaching him about the importance of soil acidity and the art of branch trimming.
“They’re celebrating a… garden?”
“Dazai.” Chuuya raises an eyebrow. And borrowing Gin’s words he says with as much confidence, “Any reason is a good enough reason to party.”
“Why were you in my school building?”
“I was waiting for Gin.”
Dazai looks back at him, eyes narrowed dangerously, like he’s trying to break down his defenses. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
What else do you want me to say?
“I did text you, though.” Chuuya crosses his arms over his chest in a show of petulance. “It’s not my fault you weren’t replying!”
He obviously has caught on to Chuuya’s lie. What else does Dazai know? Has he already figured out how Chuuya feels about him?
Dazai pointedly looks away. He sounds affronted, “You always tell me these things, Chuuya.”
Chuuya’s heart thunders inside his ribcage mercilessly.
“It’s not like you told me about your precious Ueno-san, either.”
And silence descends upon them like muted chaos. They look at each other with wide eyes.
“Chuuya—”
“Dazai—”
This is the exact, same scenario he was trying to avoid. Dazai is staring at him with his mouth hanging slightly open, and then he takes a step back to effectively put distance between them.
I won’t lose you because of my feelings.
“I meant.” Chuuya exhales. He doesn’t know where this sentence is going but it’s too fucking late to back out now, isn’t it? “Look, dad made me buy an omamori for you, you know how he is." True. "And it would have been - I don’t know? Romantic? For the both of you? If you had matching charms, or some shit like that. If I knew, I could have bought a pair or whatever—” Lie. He couldn't care less about Dazai's new girlfriend.
“Chuuya.” Dazai grabs his wrist and tugs at him to make him stop. Maybe he’s seen through that rambling, too.
“Chuuya, we just broke up.”
What?
“What?”
Dazai discards his coat and plants himself on the couch. He runs a hand through his hair, laughing just a little when he explains. “She was upset when I told her I wanted to spend the weekend with you. Something about maximizing our time together this term since you and I see each other all the time back in Japan anyway."
Chuuya interjects, tries to make sense of the situation. "You know I wouldn't be upset if you were too busy, right?" Lie.
"What makes you think I'd be too busy for you?" And Chuuya thinks Dazai hadn't meant to say that out loud, with the way his eyes widened from surprise. Dazai looks away, his voice suddenly thinning out. “Ah but it actually sounds silly now. You’re probably going to be busy with Gin, and your family—”
“Hey, shut up.” Chuuya fights the urge to laugh out loud.
Hah, if only this idiot knew why he flew out here in the first place.
He steps closer to Dazai and lightly knocks his head with a fist. “I wasn’t going to avoid you while I’m here,” says Chuuya. There is nothing but the fierce desire to wipe away the insecurity from Dazai’s face, all the more now that he realizes it’s his fault it’s there in the first place. He should have known better.
“It was supposed to be a surprise, you know.” Truth. “Of course I made sure to free my schedule so we can do something together.” Lie - his entire stay was dedicated to Dazai.
A beat of silence. “Dazai, you know I wouldn’t purposely ignore you, right? I won't be too busy for you, either.”
A smile finally touches the corners of Dazai’s lips. Ah. The things Chuuya would do just to keep him looking at him like that.
And the storm clouds finally part. “Because Chuuya missed me~?” Dazai wiggles his eyebrows.
“Sure,” he says. Truth. “Not sure if I missed the stupid jokes, though.” Lie.
He holds a hand out and helps Dazai up to his feet. Chuuya realizes he missed these little touches and gestures, too. “Where are we going?” he asks.
Chuuya maneuvers him out of the room with a gentle hand to Dazai’s elbow. “Dinner,” he says. He knows Dazai well enough to be sure that he hasn’t eaten yet and what better way to kick start their day with a meal together?
But Dazai stops just as they’re leaving the room. He turns to look at Chuuya, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey,” he says. “You know I missed you too, right?”
It’s a lightning strike directly to his heart. Unable to help himself, he grabs Dazai’s hand and affectionately squeezes it.
“Yeah? You better have.”
—
Nothing changes much aside from the fact that Chuuya is starting to become more and more aware of how much he actually gravitates towards Dazai. Every point of contact, even just the little instances where their fingers brush against each other’s, burns through his flesh like an iron brand melting away his defenses.
He also overthinks every gesture does for him, looking for any kind of meaning. Why did Dazai open the door for him? Has Dazai always memorized his oddly specific instructions for his boba order? Bumping their knees under the table — is that, like, platonic?
The icing to the cake is the self-awareness. Chuuya becomes so fixated on not dropping too-obvious hints that he ends up making a bigger fool of himself by becoming all sorts of a stuttering, blushing mess in front of Dazai. The first incident started in the morning when Chuuya had to pick him up, as they had planned. Everything was going well until he saw Dazai waiting for him by the hotel driveway with his bangs clumsily tucked behind his ear with some bobby pins.
The first thing that came to his traitorous head is, Oh I want to kiss you so bad.
But what he ended up saying was, “I can’t stand looking at you.”
“Good morning,” Dazai said. He makes a move to unclip his hair. “That bad? I’m too lazy to get a haircut.”
Chuuya stopped him by abruptly (and embarrassingly) tugging his wrist away. “It’s fine. You look…” He felt the heat creeping up to his face. “Good.”
“Somehow I’m not convinced.”
Chuuya fixed the clips back for him. Has Dazai’s hair always been this soft? God, get a grip. “Just shut up.”
And he strays further and further from rational thought, especially when it comes to touch. Tugging Dazai’s hand, leaning on him in crowded spaces — all of these have always been a natural part to their friendship. He has always been the more tactile one between the two of them too, but he began to wonder, Is this okay? Is this too much? Won’t Dazai start noticing?
“You’re spacing out.” Dazai waves his pair of chopsticks in front of his face. “Don’t you like the food?”
There’s a whole table spread of food in front of them, and right in the middle of the Newton Food Center, Chuuya’s senses are being assaulted by all sorts of delicious smells and sounds.
He also notices, as his brain is currently unable to stop itself from devouring every little detail about Dazai, a small streak of chili sauce falling from the corner of his lip. He takes a tissue to wipe it off him, as he always does — Wait, isn’t that a little too romantic? Fuck — but then thinks better of it.
Dazai catches the movement. “And you’re being weirdly distant.” He leans closer to tilt his chin, expectant.
“Am not.” says Chuuya, begrudgingly wiping Dazai’s face. At least his hands don’t tremble.
“Are too!” Daza points at the distance between the two of them. Where Chuuya would have naturally sat beside Dazai, he chose instead to sit across from him. “And you’re not feeding me~”
“I have never fed you once in this life, asshole.”
“Mm, and it’s a shame~” Dazai pops a fishball in his mouth. “But… You’re okay, right?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s nothing.” He repeats the words over and over his head, like a mantra.
Dazai rests his cheek over his hand, and he regards Chuuya thoughtfully. “Right.”
Chuuya inhales. From under the table, he knocks their knees together and rests his leg beside Dazai’s.
I really might kiss you if you keep looking at me like that, he thinks.
“Don’t worry about it.” He steals the last piece of crab leg from Dazai’s bowl.
Dazai protests with an indignant Hey! and he swipes the piece back to his plate. They end up spilling a few soup and sauces on the table from the tug-of-war, and they end up staining their shirts, and they’re a little sweaty from all the walking they did the whole day, and Dazai’s laughing, and he smiles triumphantly when he pops the whole piece even with the shell, and Chuuya is a little weirded out at the very loud crrrrrunch he hears, and then from under the table Dazai’s loops his too-long of a leg around Chuuya’s, and, and—
God, Chuuya mourns internally. I’m so fucking in love with you.
—
“What time are you leaving tomorrow?”
Chuuya looks up from his phone, momentarily ignoring the onslaught of Gin’s text messages. Right, he did reschedule his flight to Sunday. He looks at the way Dazai is comfortably lying on his hotel bed, wrapped in a soft cotton bathrobe, and momentarily considers changing his ticket again.
But he also knows it wouldn’t bid well for him to be in such close proximity with Dazai at this moment, he’s not so fond of entertaining the idea of ending up with a heart attack in a foreign country. Besides, Chuuya knows there’s a much needed Dazai-free reflection time for all his Dazai-related feelings that should not be influenced by the topic of relection himself. Remove the biases, and all that.
“My flight leaves at 1 in the afternoon,” he says.
“Does it?” Dazai studies the ceiling with fierce intensity. “Are you — Don’t you want to stay…”
It’s rare to see Dazai stumble for words. Chuuya’s curiosity increases nearly a hundredfold. “What is it?”
“Well!” Dazai claps his hand then springs up from the bed. “We should do something fun, since it’s your last night here!”
“You said you were tired,” Chuuya points out with a raised eyebrow. While Gin gave him a tour around the less popular sports in the city, Dazai took it upon himself to take him to all the famous tourist spots (SuperTree Grove included!), which entailed a lot of walking around and making their way past the crowds and the noise that perpetually came with them. Dazai’s social stamina can only take so much - and Chuuya knew how to look out for Dazai’s telltale signs of reaching past his limit. His eyebrows would microscopically bunch together at the midline of his forehead, his smiles a little too sharp to be genuine, and then he would always keep a hand pressed to Chuuya’s back, like some grounding mechanism.
Dazai stretches his hands overhead. “Correction: I was.”
“It’s fine, Dazai.” Chuuya rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to force yourself to do anything.”
Dazai blatantly ignores him and starts climbing out the bed. “We should go out for a drink.”
“No way,” Chuuya tries to pull him back to the bed. “Ten minutes ago you said you were ready to sleep.”
“Correction: I was ready to sleep with you.” At least he has his back towards Chuuya so that Dazai doesn’t see the way his face is practically burning red. “Correction of a correction! I was going to sleep if you were going to sleep, and we both know you still have a lot of pent up energy in that tiny body of yours.”
He blindly dodges the kick Chuuya sends his way. It is, in fact, impressive.
He turns around. “Come on. I’ll be good! I won’t tell Paul if you pass out on the street again~”
It’s hard to refuse, not when Dazai sounds as if he’s simply prolonging the night so they could spend more time together.
You know I missed you too, right?
Ah, fuck it.
“That happened once,” Chuuya protests but lets Dazai pull him from where he’s seated. “You’re not much better than me, you know!”
“Mm-hmm.” Dazai pushes him to the bathroom. “Worry not! What happens in Singapore, stays in Singapore. Or so the saying goes!”
Chuuya is sure he’s not familiar with that version, but. Oh well.
—
It comes as a surprise that even with just two months under his belt, Dazai is a recognized regular customer at one of the city’s most-exclusive nightclubs. Chuuya does not want to think about it - really tries not to imagine any particular scenario that can be attached to the implications to this fact, and he also pointedly ignores the way the bartender tries to discreetly say Oh, new date? in German - eugh, so a quick solution to all his problems: Chuuya simply drowns two shots in quick succession.
“Slow down,” says Dazai but he’s placing another glass in front of him in amusement. With the purposefully low lighting and pulsing neon lights, and the way Dazai has pushed his hair back, and leaving the first two buttons of his shirt open - the view is fucking sinful.
The night is rapidly descending into unfamiliar territory.
He drinks another shot.
Dazai laughs out loud and slips the glass from his fingers just as Chuuya finishes his drink. “What the hell, Chuuya. We’re here to have fun, not die from alcohol poisoning.”
“It’s called speeding up the process.” He takes Dazai’s shot glass from the table. “Come on. Drink.”
“Pushy,” says Dazai with a teasing smile and swallows down the vodka with ease. He reaches for another glass and drinks again without so much as another breath. “Don’t want to be left behind then,” he says when he catches Chuuya staring at him.
Chuuya tries not to follow the drop of liquid on his lips. He hates this, he hates this with a passion. Eugh. He looks around instead before he does anything remotely stupid, and watches the Saturday crowd on the dance floor. He drums his finger with the music, letting himself a little loose, and flushing out his thoughts. Control yourself, he screams inside his head.
Dazai says something from beside him, of which he doesn’t catch. “What?”
And it’s electricity under his skin, fire in his stomach, when Dazai pulls him close and says directly in his ear, “I said, I like your hair. That’s new.”
God.
Chuuya’s blood is molten lava, his heart picking up speed along with the music. “Yeah?” he subtly inches away from him lest he spontaneously combusts. “A friend taught me how to braid it.”
They stay at their table, relaxed and comfortably talking, with of course, the occasional drinking game. They’ve both reached that haze where laughter comes bubbling in their throat with effortless prompts, but not gone enough to be reckless and irresponsible. Just as Chuuya hopes - he is being careful tonight.
A stupidly drunk Chuuya is a stupidly talkative Chuuya, that much they’re aware of. He’s thankfully three drinks away from that so danger seems so out of sight.
Four-Shots Chuuya, however, is a very giggly Chuuya. Pair that with a clumsy Dazai, five drinks deep, well—
“Stop laughing!” Dazai says, massaging his head.
“I - I can’t understand how you keep hitting your head on the same fucking wall,” Chuuya snorts. “Just. Move a little, already!”
Dazai adjusts his bar stool, when —
Brown eyes, silk spun hair, pink lips - objectively beautiful. “Hi.”
Also objectively Dazai’s type.
A hand on Dazai’s arm. She tucks her hair behind her ear. And Five-Shots Dazai is, as Chuuya remembers, a flirty Dazai. Well, exceptionally-flirty-than-usual Dazai.
He smiles at the girl, eyelashes fluttering purposefully. Chuuya looks away, but he hears the richness of Dazai’s voice when he replies, “Hello, there.”
Fuck it.
On any other day, he really would have played the perfect role of a wingman. Not that Dazai ever needed such a role, he’s perfectly capable of picking up people from the club— Okay, enough. Let’s not follow that train of thought.
“I’m going to dance.” He throws one more shot down his throat. Tonight, he’s just going to have fun and pretend there isn’t another massive blackhole tearing his chest apart.
It’s easy to get lost in the music. Chuuya blends with the crowd and follows the music. He reminds himself an old dictum that has always helped him in these situations — Thinking: Bad, Dancing: Good.
Chuuya lets the music invade his senses, makes it part of his energy, raising up his spirits several levels all at once. A girl presses up to him, and she shoots him a dizzying smile. Rainbow lights on her hair, her hands inviting him closer and closer until the beat changes and they’re pulled apart. Chuuya doesn’t know how long he dances, doesn’t particularly care - if Dazai can have his fun, then so can he.
He knows he’s catching a lot of people’s attention. Maybe if he’s lucky enough, he can —
His back collides with someone and Chuuya is ready to apologize when, “Dazai?”
“Having fun?” he grins. Chuuya’s eyes shoot to the bar, confused.
“I thought…”
Dazai’s eyes look dark. He’s so focused on Chuuya that it almost feels criminal to look away. “Told her I was with someone.”
“Yeah?” Chuuya tilts his head in askance.
“You wouldn’t mind if I joined you, right?” He slides in closely to Chuuya’s space, more of a self-invitation rather than a question. If it was his sole intention to drive Chuuya insane, then he’s definitely doing a great job at it.
And it’s like all the drinks he’s had come kicking in at full force all at once. His head floats, his limbs start to feel like jelly. It isn’t as if they haven’t danced together either. Ah, the universe is really out to get him, isn’t it? But there’s something about the way Dazai is looking at him, the way he whispers the question at the little space between them that has Chuuya snapping away what is left of his self-control.
What did Dazai say again?
Chuuya smiles at him coyly. “Were you watching me?”
And then someone pushes him from behind, Chuuya nearly stumbles but Dazai steadies him with his hand over Chuuya’s back. The touch sends an electric current down his spine.
“Quite the performance,” Dazai leans closer.
“Well then.” Chuuya smirks and tiptoes to whisper close to his ears.
Something about what happens here, stays in…?
He exhales a hot breath at Dazai’s ear, taking great pleasure at the way he shivers in response. “Make sure to keep your eyes on me, Dazai gege.”
Dazai's heart is a stuttering mess. The sentence doesn't even make fucking sense - Chuuya's older than him, he should be the one saying that to him. Whatever. Everything around them fades into the background and the only thing Dazai can process is Chuuya. Chuuya’s hot breath on his skin, Chuuya’s fingers painting bruises on Dazai’s hips.
Dazai licks his lips. “Of course.”
Chuuya hypnotically sways with the rhythm, arms automatically looping around Dazai’s neck, fingers scratching his scalp. His eyes are sharp and vast, and he's biting his lips so purposefully that Dazai knows he can’t look away even if wants to. The lights overhead are dizzying, Chuuya’s movement even more so, and suddenly their bodies are pressed so close to each other that they practically share the same breath, and he feels something hard press against his thighs and— “Fuck.” Dazai inhales sharply.
“Sorry,” Chuuya scrambles for a quick apology. He’s breathless. He urgently pulls away but Dazai hooks his hands over the belt loop on Chuuya’s pants and tugs him back to his space.
“Relax,” Dazai says above the noise, above the music, above the deafening sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. “It’s just me.”
Chuuya nods slowly. It might be just a trick of the light, or maybe the alcohol in their system, but Dazai thinks Chuuya’s eyes become even more electrified. He pulls Dazai’s collar and he whispers straight to his ear, “Tell me to stop, Dazai.”
And he doesn’t. Can’t. Not when Chuuya turns and presses his back against Dazai’s chest, grinding their bodies together, entirely losing himself to the music. Dazai’s breath is stuck in his throat and he hungrily pulls Chuuya closer to his body, as if meaning to mold them as one. Their sweat mixes like sin, like want.
The angle allows Dazai to press his mouth on Chuuya’s neck and his lips scrape against skin and leather. “Chuuya,” he says. He doesn’t even know if Chuuya can hear him, “Chuuya. Don’t stop.”
His fingers find purchase at Chuuya’s hips and he guides their movement together. Dazai can’t tell anymore what’s dizzying - the alcohol, the music, or his cock pressed against Chuuya’s body. Chuuya tips his head backward and then loops his hand to pull Dazai’s head. “Okay,” is what he says, eyes closed, mouth hanging open.
Dazai explores Chuuya’s body with unfamiliar hunger that consumes him with burning intensity. With his hands tangled in Dazai’s hair, Chuuya’s cropped shirt lifts impossibly higher, and he slips his hand over his skin, memorizes the way Chuuya’s muscles contract under his fingertips.
He thinks he hears Chuuya hiss under his breath. Actually, Dazai doesn’t know what else to think. All his senses are occupied by Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya.
It’s simultaneously everything and nothing like Dazai ever imagined. And how long has he been thinking about this, huh?
Eugh, I'm pathetic.
The burning desire in his chest grows and grows. What was a tiny flame when he saw Chuuya waiting outside his school building, the burn of seeing Chuuya enjoying Singapore without him, the firestorm of what he can assume Chuuya’s fit of jealousy - god, I’m growing delusional - it turns into his own personal inferno.
He doesn’t know how long they stay pressed together like that, only that his chest becomes a mix of satisfaction and poison. Does he want this? Yes. Very much so. Have been imagining it for the better half of the fucking year.
Does he want it like this ? Fuelled by alcohol, arguably bad decisions, and impulsivity, with Chuuya probably just enjoying the pull of the tides?
Dazai hasn’t been more ecstatic and crushed at the same time.
“God,” he says.
Chuuya turns around. He laughs majestically, hot breath fanning across Dazai's face. “Close but not quite,” he says with his arms still looped around Dazai’s neck. “Are you okay?”
I really want to kiss you right now, Dazai thinks heavily.
How easy would it be, with the way Chuuya is looking up at him and his cheek almost tilted to the side, to just lean in and press their lips together. Dazai’s heart hammers violently inside his chest when Chuuya does exactly that, inching closer and closer to delete the space between them. Time seems to slow, or maybe it’s just Dazai’s senses, and, and —
Dazai inhales and then quickly drops his head on Chuuya’s shoulder. He can’t. He won’t. Not like this, not when Chuuya clearly isn’t thinking straight, not when there’s a glaring possibility that Chuuya will come to regret this in the morning.
It’s just the alcohol, Dazai’s brain screams.
“Are you okay?” Chuuya repeats the question. The song is morphing to a slower beat, a lull to the atmosphere.
He looks up at Chuuya and Dazai pulls away. The spell is broken, and the night rapidly comes to an end. "Mm-hmm." Dazai says. "I'll go get us some water."
—
Chuuya violently wakes up to the sound of a god-awful ringtone. Without so much as looking up from his pillow, he blindly reaches for the phone on the nightstand and answers as politely as he could. “Hello?”
Something - someone? - squeaks at the other end. “Osamu gege…?”
And Chuuya’s hangover comes like a violent tidal wave. “Jesus.” He buries himself deeper in the blanket wrapped around him. “Wrong number,” he says as he unceremoniously drops the phone back to the table. Or maybe it falls to the floor. He can’t be bothered to check.
From beside him, Dazai stirs and then reaches for the device. Ah, now that Chuuya realizes, that definitely wasn’t his phone. Oh well. Dazai’s hand brushes against his skin, and he would have cared about hiding the way his whole body shivers if he wasn’t so busy nursing a very appalling headache.
“Chuuya? Who was that?”
“Go back to bed, Dazai. It’s too early.”
A soft groan. Dazai doesn’t move his hand. Chuuya wishes Dazai would pull him in a hug. “Mm. Okay.”
“See you in a few hours.”
He dreams in a series of blurry snapshots. Bar Lupin, neon lights, flavored shots, Dazai, dancing, Dazai, trying to kiss Dazai, getting rejected by Dazai—
And he wakes up, the fog in his head more of a mist rather than a curtain around his brain. He stares up the ceiling, recounts every little detail in his head.
So, definitely not the dream, then.
“Fuck.” He sighs and then covers his eyes with his arms.
An amused laugh. “Oh, good~ You’re finally awake.”
He turns to his side and sees Dazai eating a plate of what he assumes is breakfast. Steam rises from his cup of coffee, and there’s water droplets falling from his bangs. At least one of them looks put together. “Good morning~”
Chuuya gratuitously accepts the cup Dazai passes him. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Dazai studying him intently. He casts sidelong glances at his direction with every bite he takes, like he wants to ask a question.
“What?”
Dazai pouts, caught. “How’s your head?” But Chuuya can hear the masked question behind his words, Do you remember anything?
“Horrible.” He takes another sip. “Yours?”
Dazai deliberately hums, and then kindly passes him a plate of eggs. “Blurry.” There’s an unmistakable wobble in his voice, so miniscule it might not have been there at all, but Chuuya has spent half of his life with this boy to know when he’s trying to hide something. It’s also in the way Dazai subtly tries to look away to make sure he does not meet Chuuya’s eyes, looking at the middle of his forehead instead.
Liar.
“I can’t quite remember how we got home either.” Dazai shrugs, a show to look sheepish.
Liar, liar, liar.
Between the two of them, it’s Chuuya who is always at the mercy of spotty memories from a night out, not Dazai. Never Dazai.
And for whose benefit is he lying for? His own? Chuuya’s?
And what is it that is swimming in Dazai’s head?
Regret? Embarrassment?
Chuuya. Don’t stop.
It is in this hotel suit, with the warm morning lights filtering in, and the smell of bitter coffee, that Chuuya fully realizes that this - this - is the extent of their relationship. Best friends, partners-in-crime — the steadiness they’ve cultivated over the years, unshakable, yet no more and no less.
Last night was just a slip in their control, driven by desperation on his part, and alcohol on Dazai’s. What intimacy he felt was nothing but their primal instincts, and what spark between them was nothing more than a trick to the eye.
Chuuya thinks, sipping his coffee in slow, too-controlled motions, that this must be what heartbreak feels like.
But what else is there left to do aside from accepting the situation? This is Dazai — the only person who knows him as well as he knows himself. Someone he trusts with his entire life, his secrets, his fears. Chuuya treasures him, so much so that he is willing to bury his feelings just so he can continue being by his side. Their friendship is worth more than anything, Chuuya knows that, and if Dazai chooses to forget last night to salvage their relationship, then fine.
It’s just a setback, Chuuya tells himself. I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.
“Yeah.” Chuuya forces his most convincing smile. He laughs with the cup still pressed to his lips, letting the aroma sooth his senses. “Me too.”
They follow the day’s motion in a slow breeze. Everything is normal for the most part, except for the instances where Dazai would accidentally press too close to him and a jolt of phantom memories would stir inside Chuuya’s chest. He’d pull away, as if he was being burned by the touch, but at least Dazai has enough decency to pretend he doesn’t know what that’s all about.
An hour before Gin has to collect him for the airport, Dazai tosses him a silver merlion keychain. Attached to its ring is a little resin box of a photo of the two of them from yesterday, Dazai smirking at the camera and Chuuya trapped between his arms, both of them squished together to make sure they fit in the frame. Another charm, ‘ I ♡ Singapore’ printed in silver.
“A little souvenir,” says Dazai. He holds up another keychain to complement his set. “I got a pair, see? We match!”
Chuuya thumbs the picture. “This is ridiculous.” He clips it to his bag either way.
“So~ Did you at least enjoy your trip here?”
An innocent enough question, but it leaves him contemplative all the same.
The long answer would be: Yeah, I missed you, this is the longest we’ve been apart, can you believe that? I’m glad I got to see you, and that you chose to hang out with me instead of Ueno even when she made a very good point about spending time together, and I wish I could stay for a little longer but I can’t, Dazai. I can’t because I might end up sabotaging myself, and our friendship, the same way I almost did last night, and I’m sorry I put you in that position. You wouldn’t be trying so hard right now to pretend if it weren’t for me, and I feel so fucking shitty, so I’m actually starting to regret coming here and putting our friendship at risk.
The short (and safe) answer is: “Of course. Yesterday was my first time visiting Newton Food Center, you know. You’re right - the food is fucking amazing. I can’t believe Gin never took me there.”
“Yeah?” Dazai clips his own keychain on his bag. “Glad you had fun~”
A thoughtful pause. Dazai smiles. “Hey, thanks for making time for me. I know you went here for some family stuff—”
Right.
“Dazai.” Chuuya huffs, and then squeezes his shoulder in reassurance. “Of course I’d always make time for you.” Truth. “You’re my best friend.” Truth.
And he always will be, above all else. Chuuya will push down all his aches, his jealousy, his longing, because he isn’t so selfish and stupid as to ruin the delicate balance they have.
You’re my best friend — a gentle reminder for himself.
Gin calls right on cue and in no time they’re dropping him off at the airport. Chuuya presses a featherlight kiss on her cheek, and then whispers another round of thanks for all her help along with a promise of a much-needed phone call when he gets home.
He turns to Dazai. “I’ll see you in a few weeks?”
“In three,” says Dazai.
Plenty of time to reflect and flush out his feelings, then.
“Three weeks,” Chuuya repeats. “I’ll see you when I see you.” And they slip together in a loose embrace, warm and familiar.
“Don’t miss me too much.” Dazai grins.
“I won’t.” Lie. “I won’t think about you at all.” Lie.
The six-hour flight is long and boring. Chuuya watches the city slowly fade from view, and along with it, Dazai. Thumbing the keychain, he snorts to himself, finally remembering Dazai's words. “What happens in Singapore, stays in Singapore, huh?”