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It’s no secret that Dazai has trouble sleeping. At this point that is as much a defining trait as his bandages or ideations of death. He does think, sometimes, that it really is quite telling that his most recognizable features are the ones that also demonstrate his poor state of mind. And never simply his pretty face or questionable fashion sense.
But his trouble sleeping is not completely his fault. As truly, unwanted light is frequently the culprit of waking him up much earlier than he would prefer.
It’s strange to admit that his most passionate and lengthy rivalry is that between himself and the sun, but no matter how embarrassing that is, he would never deny it outright. Being shameful would-be admitting weakness, admitting defeat.
And today, unfortunately, is just like any other day. The sun crawls in through the window and over the floor. The approach is silent, sneaky, devious. Creeping up onto the bed with zero warning and shining directly on Dazai’s face. Dragging him from sleep and back into the far too bright world of reality.
Today isn’t quite so bad though, the bed feels heavenly beneath him, and the soft blankets have him surrounded in a cocoon of warmth and safety. It’s rare for him to feel so content upon waking up. Usually when his conscious mind rouses, so do the anxieties and misery that always rest heavy on his mind. All but forcing his eyes open and his body into action.
But the weight of all the blankets, and the silkiness of the pillow against his face, keep him still, and allow his eyes to stay closed. And he can just float in the half awake, half asleep bliss he’s found himself in.
He feels…good. It seems like a strange thing to admit, and even stranger, how guilty he feels for doing so. He doesn’t remember the last time he got such a good night's sleep. It’s probably been years at this point.
Suddenly he feels delicate fingers tangling in his hair. He wants to lean into the soft touch, to encourage the motion so that he may spend the rest of the morning being pet. But even his barely conscious mind knows what this is for. Chuuya is trying to wake him up, albeit gently. But Dazai is far too comfortable and wishes to not be disturbed until at least noon.
So Dazai merely whines at the disturbance, refusing to open his eyes, and tries to bury himself further in the pillows.
“Wake up, love.” Says a gruff but gentle voice. So familiar, so Chuuya.
“Don’t wanna.”
“I brought you something.”
Unfortunately, Dazai did not anticipate how easily his compliance could be bought. Dazai peaks one eye open, to see if the offering is actually worthy of removing himself from his nest of blankets.
On the bedside table he sees a decent sized blueberry muffin, with a light sprinkling of sugar on top and a delicate rose patterned tea cup filled to the brim with coffee. Calling it coffee is rather generous as it is more milk and sugar than anything else.
It’s coffee light, but that’s how Dazai likes it.
Dazai sits up at the display, kind of taken aback by the—quite literal sweetness of it all. And he can’t help himself from asking. “Why a tea cup?”
Chuuya chuckles softly, almost like he knew that question was coming. “I thought you’d like it better than a plane black mug, but if you would prefer that—”
“No, no.” Dazai interrupts. “I want this one. I was just curious, usually you don’t let me near your finer china.”
“I trust you not to break it, you’ve always been good with your hands.”
Dazai giggles in response, light and airy, as he lays back down stretching his arms and arching his back, almost cat–like. He looks up at Chuuya once again, finally noticing his state of dress. Which he would deem as downright indecent for a morning like this.
“Why are you dressed?”
“Because, unlike some people,” Chuuya says, as he walks over to his dresser to pick up his gloves. “I actually make an effort to be on time for work.”
Dazai buries his face in the pillow, muffling his next words. “Seems like a waste to me.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised you think so.”
Dazai doesn’t want Chuuya to go. With a desperation he never would have assumed he could feel. It seems silly, even to himself, of course Chuuya needs to leave. He knew this was going to happen, he slept over on a Wednesday, this is a pretty forgone conclusion. And yet he still feels like the blanket just got pulled out from under him. And left him startled and surprised in the now empty bed.
He can’t imagine that whining will allow him to get his way, it rarely has in the past. But it’s not like that has ever stopped him before.
“Do you really have to go?”
“Yes.”
Dazai’s mouth forms into a small frown. “But wouldn’t you have much more fun staying here with me?”
Chuuya walks back over to him, hips swaying slightly with each step. It really is very unfair how sexy he can look first thing in the morning, and especially when Dazai can’t do anything about it. Chuuya places one knee on the bed and a hand on the headboard, hovering above Dazai. “Of course I would, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to.”
Dazai rolls over to look up at him, giving him the most doe–eyed expression he has in his arsenal, jutting out his lower lip in the perfect little pout.
Chuuya uses his other hand to drag his gloved thumb along the offending lip. “Don’t be so tempting, you’re gonna ruin all our hard work.”
“What do you mean?” Dazai asks, feigning ignorance.
Chuuya moves his hand to stroke Dazai’s cheek, the touch is somehow both rough and adorational. “If you keep this up, I won’t be able to control myself. And we don’t want that now, do we?”
“We don’t?” Dazai knows that they’re waiting, but he can’t help the pang in his heart when he hears Chuuya implying he may not want it at all.
Chuuya rolls his eyes. “Of course we want it , but we’ve both been so good . Let’s not mess that up on a rushed messy fuck, when I have to be out of here in less than ten minutes.”
Dazai sighs, he can’t help but deflate ever so slightly in defeat. Even when he knew it was inevitable. “When did Chuuya get so rational?”
“Somewhere around twenty.” Chuuya says, standing up. “Guess you had to be there.”
“Mean...”
Chuuya laughs at his distress, like the cruel boyfriend he is, as he gives himself a once over in the mirror.
“So, I have to go. But you can stay as long as you want.”
Dazai may not be an expert on normal behavior but he at least knows asking if that means he could stay forever, should definitely be one of those thoughts he keeps inside .
Though he does have a different, much more normal question, that may even have a response in the affirmative. He is still nervous to ask, the fear of rejection doesn’t seem to ever want to leave him be. But he will be more upset with himself if he doesn’t.
“Can I stay over again tonight?”
Chuuya looks back at him, a slightly surprised look on his face. “...of course.”
“Can I bring my bunny?”
Chuuya looks apprehensive, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Please? I want to have both my Chuuyas under one roof.” That, and it’s incredibly fun to say Chuuya and not even try to distinguish whether he is talking about his boyfriend or his rabbit of the same name. It drives boyfriend–Chuuya up the wall; it unfortunately does not have the same effect on the rabbit, much to Dazai’s dismay.
“Fine, but it’s not allowed on my bed.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Chuuya declares. “That's my final offer, take it or leave it.”
“Okay, no bunnies on the bed, got it.” Dazai agrees, pitifully.
Chuuya comes back over and gives Dazai a quick peck on the lips. He keeps it brief, knowing full well that if he indulges him for even a second longer, he won’t be leaving that bed for a while.
“Bye, Osamu.” Chuuya murmurs, only inches away from Dazai’s face. And with that, he leaves.
“Bye-bye, Chuuya.” Dazai says, as Chuuya walks out of the room, mostly to himself.
Dazai is left alone, he’s kind of amazed Chuuya is trusting him to be in his apartment unsupervised. As there is a deep desire in him to start snooping through every square inch of this place, but more than anything he just wants to lay in this bed all day and wait for Chuuya to come back. Work be damned.
But that might make Chuuya angry with him, so better not.
Dazai sits up, twisting slightly to crack his back. And after a few satisfying pops he reaches over for his sugary monstrosity of a coffee and takes a large, undignified sip.
He wants to try his muffin, but if he takes a bite now, it’s going to make his coffee taste bitter, and that is just unacceptable.
But even still, he’s not so sure he’d even mind it right now. On a morning like this, there’s not much that could ruin his mood. His mind is quiet and nothing in his body feels heavy. He’s warm, content, and soon to be filled with sugar—and that’s all he ever wanted to be.
He hopes every morning will be like this. Dazai seldom lets himself do something as stupid as wanting, but this time he can’t help it—he want this, so badly it almost hurts.
But the longing tugging at his heart won’t ache nearly as much as it will when he loses it. When Chuuya gets tired of dealing with him and his mood swings or his inability to function for more than a few days at a time. He’s been trying to be good, putting on a happy face for Chuuya’s sake—for his own. But the mask is slipping, like last night, bursting into tears because Chuuya didn’t cuddle him.
There’s only so much someone can take of that. As much as people like to deny it, nobody can handle negativity like that forever.
But if he were, hypothetically, going to let himself be hopeful. Chuuya would be the one he would do it for. His beautiful, warm, shiny Chuuya. Holding his hand and leading him out of the darkness, seamlessly hushing all the monsters that claw at his mind.
Maybe Chuuya really could find it in himself to keep Dazai around.
And maybe this time he’ll really get to keep him, maybe this will be forever.