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“Would you stop that?” asked Chuuya angrily as he batted Daza’s hands away like he was getting rid of an especially annoying bug.
As expected, Dazai took Chuuya’s words as encouragement and resumed his pestering with newfound vigor. He took the strand of Chuuya’s hair he had been previously playing with until its irked owner had snatched it away from him. He gave it a few tugs before he became bored at the lack of reaction from Chuuya. Dazai huffed indignantly but didn’t move away.
Chuuya glanced at him after a few seconds of suspicious stillness but quickly shifted his focus back on the report he had been working on before Dazai decided to unceremoniously break into his apartment.
It had been a rough few days. He had lost six of his subordinates because they underestimated the gunpower of their target, and Chuuya was fighting to not let himself put all the weight of the loss on his back. As a Port Mafia executive, he knew casualties were expected, but he had known those people. They had trusted him on a mission and now they were dead. He hadn't been sleeping all that well since the incident, and he suspected it would be a few more days until he would be able to shake that dreadful feeling off him.
Not that he expected to get over it like it was nothing, like lives he felt responsible for hadn't been lost, but he knew that the moment he dared to show weakness, he was done for. He had been aching to get home and drop the ruthless mafioso façade, but of course, fate had other plans for him. Precisely, a plan that reeked of fish. A plan that had disappeared from his side and was now wandering around his apartment.
As much as it unnerved him, he let Dazai be. Chuuya was really too worn out to humor his antics that day. He hoped that if he ignored him long enough he would just get bored and leave.
A deafening crashing sound coming from his kitchen quickly shot down his wishful thinking.
He closed his eyes and counted to ten as he tried to calm down, but a second shattering sound made him jump from his chair like it was on fire. Chuuya drew the knife he hid up his sleeve as he stomped his way to the kitchen.
He found Dazai in the middle of his kitchen, standing still surrounded by his now destroyed china. He dropped the last glass he was holding, not even bothering to pretend that he didn’t fully intend to make Chuuya kill him.
“Oops,” he had the guts to say as he looked at Chuuya innocently.
It didn’t even take two seconds for Chuuya to back Dazai against the counter and press the knife against his stomach, making the shattered china crack under his feet.
“Do you have a death wish, you fucking maniac?” he demanded as he inched the knife closer.
Dazai smiled at him like he was finally getting the attention he wanted, not minding the fact that Chuuya had a knife against him.
“Chuuya is so mean today,” he pouted.
Another day. Any other day and Chuuya would’ve just beat the fucker up and kicked him out of his apartment, but that day, Dazai’s all-consuming presence was more than he could rationally handle.
Chuuya was tempted to just plunge his blade into the sorry bastard, but the hassle of cleaning up the mess made him decide against it. Plus, he didn’t think that the fucker could even die. Cockroaches like him were hard to kill.
Not pulling away, he moved the blade until it was right against Dazai’s heart.
“Today is really not the time,” he warned Dazai’s smiling face, who was seemingly unbothered by the knife millimeters away from piercing his heart. “Leave. I mean it, Dazai.”
“But I was so bored, Chuuya,” Dazai complained with a dramatic sigh, as if that were Chuuya’s problem. “I just figured I’d bless you with my presence, but you’re being outright ungrateful.”
That was the last straw for Chuuya. He moved to stab Dazai, but the other stopped his arm with a firm grip on his wrist like he had been expecting that exact outcome. He looked too smug for Chuuya’s comfort, it made him itch to erase that irritating smirk off his face.
“I know your tiny brain can’t retain much information, Chibi,” he taunted as he turned the knife still in Chuuya’s grip against him, pressing hard. “But I’ve told you many, many times. You can’t surprise me. I really have known you for too long, I know how that slow mind of yours works. You’re as predictable as ever, hatrack.”
Dazai had the gall to look disappointed, making Chuuya see red. He realized that he didn’t mind playing right into Dazai’s plans if it meant getting the satisfaction of landing a few punches on the bandaged nuisance, so he freed himself from the other’s grip and immediately delivered a swift kick to his knees. Dazai dodged it.
Chuuya groaned in frustration and lunged again, this time aiming for Dazai’s stomach. The weasel avoided every punch and faked a yawn as one of Chuuya’s attacks barely missed his face. Chuuya’s blind rage made him clumsy in his charges, and Dazai noticed.
“You really are losing your touch, Chuuya,” he sneered. “I see that the Port Mafia has left training unattended since I left.”
Chuuya fell for the bait and lunged again, but Dazai avoided that punch too.
“A shame, really,” he lamented feigning dissatisfaction.
Chuuya took advantage of Dazai’s little performance and finally managed to land a punch on him, making the other man stumble back clutching his stomach.
“You only managed to get me because I let you,” wheezed Dazai as he bent forward in an attempt to regain his breath.
Not giving him a chance to recover, Chuuya stepped forward and retrieved the knife Dazai had taken away from him. He pushed it against him once again as he grabbed him by the collar with more force than was strictly necessary.
“Yeah? This was the outcome you wanted?” Chuuya asked with a harsh tone, still a bit winded from the fight as he pressed the blade closer.
“Correct,” Dazai grinned cheekily before looking up and swiftly leaning in.
Chuuya prepared for an attack that never came, and instead felt Dazai’s lips crashing against his with a force that could’ve shattered his teeth. Chuuya barely had time to react when Dazai’s hands were already roaming over his body, pressing him flush against him.
When he finally started processing what was going on, he was terrified to find out that he had been kissing the bastard back, matching his intensity. Chuuya untangled his hands from Dazai’s now messed up hair and shoved him back. He threw a punch against his jaw, and this time, Dazai didn’t have time to dodge.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded with a savage tone tainting his voice as he wiped his mouth. “Just what is it with you today? Do you really wish to die that badly? Is that it? You want me to kill you?”
He watched with twisted satisfaction how Dazai was rubbing his rapidly reddening jaw, looking thwarted and affronted.
“Chuuya really is no fun today,” he pouted again, as if that answered any question.
“You have 30 seconds to leave by your own means before I break your legs,” threatened Chuuya, reaching for the knife again. Dazai raised his hands in surrender as he watched Chuuya, finally seeming to get that he was not to be trifled with that day.
“If Chibi would let me,” he started hesitantly. “I would prefer not to.”
“What?” asked Chuuya with bewilderment. Dazai wanted to what? Hell if he was going to enable him any longer.
“I would really appreciate it,” he started again, taking his time to measure his words. “If Chuuya let me stay. And not kill me.”
Chuuya just stared at him, weighing his options. He could kick him out. He could kill him. He could let him stay, with everything that last option entailed. He subconsciously brought his fingers up to his lips as he mulled that particular option over, and quickly snatched his own hand away.
Dazai noticed and took that as permission to get closer to Chuuya once more.
“Please?” he added pitifully. Chuuya sighed. He was tired. Truly and utterly tired.
He hated Dazai’s mind games, he despised the way he never directly said what he meant, he detested never knowing where he stood with the man. He knew Dazai better than his own heartbeat, but he still was a mystery to Chuuya. He knew that something was up apart from his usual need to harass Chuuya, but Dazai refused to communicate it like a regular person. He rubbed his eyes as he felt Dazai’s presence invade his personal space. Chuuya fought the urge to shove him away.
“Dazai,” he called with a drained tone, not expecting an answer. “What is going on?”
The man didn’t reply, but grabbed his forearm like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. He looked at Dazai in a silent plea, imploring him with his gaze. Chuuya just knew he was about to do something they would both regret in no time.
And indeed, Dazai leaned in again, but this time there was no violence in his kiss. He tightened his grip on Chuuya’s forearm like he would disappear any second, and stroked his cheek with a tenderness that burnt his skin, clashing absurdly with the violence inflicted not even a minute ago. His lips were soft and desperate, like he was trying to apologize for something that couldn’t be put into words. Chuuya’s head was spinning, but he retained enough sanity to push Dazai away again and lean against his forehead, unable to look him in the eye.
“Don’t do this,” he asked wearily.
Chuuya tried to put some distance between them, but Dazai reached for him with a desperation that Chuuya couldn’t even begin to understand where it came from. He hated that his first thought was to doubt Dazai’s intentions, but he had been hurt enough times by the other man to drop his suspicion as soon as Dazai seemed to display a human emotion.
“What do you want, Dazai?” he asked with defeat in his voice. “Don’t dance around the truth for once in your life, what do you want?”
The man in front of him recoiled into himself at the question and dropped his hand in defeat. Chuuya watched him struggle against himself, shifting through indiscernible and incomprehensible emotions and when he looked up again, that damned plastic smile was plastered back on his face. With that, Chuuya knew he had taken a thousand steps back in the conversation, denying him a genuine answer. He braced himself for the inevitable punch that would come out of Dazai’s mouth.
“Well, for starters it would be nice if you could get rid of that hideous hat of yours,” he said with feigned cheerfulness that came out robotic and cold. Chuuya grimaced as the artificialness in his voice prickled him like sharp thorns on his skin. “Really, Chuuya, it’s hurting my eyes, you could-”
“Out,” Chuuya interrupted him. Dazai stopped in his tracks with a shadow of that previous plea back in his eyes. “Get out. I don’t want you to be here, Dazai. You don’t know shit about what I’m dealing with and the last thing I need right now is a selfish bastard torturing me because he can’t be left alone with his thoughts for a second.”
Dazai opened his mouth to protest but deflated as quickly as he tried. He stared at Chuuya helplessly, like he was begging him to read his mind. Chuuya wanted so desperately to be able to do just that, to understand Dazai fully at least once in his life, but all he had was a very conflicting mix of emotions and a sense of wrongness about the situation, about Dazai. He wished Dazai could meet him halfway, but they were miles away from each other, drifting further and further away the more they hurt each other.
“It always comes down to this, huh?” asked Chuuya bitterly. “A kiss can’t fix this, Dazai.”
“I didn’t intend it to,” he finally said. His voice sounded crushed. Crushed like he had reached the end of a line no one could see but him.
“We can’t keep doing this. Sometimes you feel like a stranger getting under my skin,” he said weakly. “And I don’t want you to be,” Chuuya added after a pause, like a confession. He supposed that for the grisly relationship they had it could be considered one. It was generous to even call it a relationship, everything was just stale smoke, old sweat, and lies, lies, lies.
“Every second with you is spent in psychic screaming,” he kept going. “It’s hurting you too, you know?” he added, watching Dazai flinch at his words.
After a few seconds of stillness, Dazai nodded with his head hanging low. The sight made Chuuya’s heart twist painfully in his chest. He was aching for the mess covered in bandages who stood in front of him looking like he hadn’t felt more dejected in his life.
Chuuya didn’t know what overcame him, but now he was the one crossing the distance between them and embraced Dazai, getting on his tiptoes. In any other situation, he knew that he would’ve been teased endlessly for it, but that moment, Dazai returned the embrace with crushing force. It wrecked Chuuya to feel the desperation that bled out of Dazai as he held him as close as possible, almost like he was trying to burrow himself in a hole in Chuuya’s chest.
He felt Dazai let out a shuddering breath as his fingers dug painfully in Chuuya’s back. He let him be, not letting himself wonder how long ago he had started needing to cling to someone but denied himself anything resembling vulnerability.
Chuuya’s hands found Dazai’s hair and dug his fingers into his scalp. Dazai strengthened his hold painfully, almost making Chuuya gasp for air. Still, he let him be.
Chuuya felt like minutes, hours, maybe even days passed like that, clutching each other as if they could melt into the other. Chuuya ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach.
In the end, it was Dazai who first pulled away, energy completely drained from him. He tried to put some distance between them, but Chuuya kept him close to himself, circling an arm around Dazai’s waist. Chuuya tried to not grimace when he saw how red Dazai’s eyes were, how utterly and miserably lost he looked. The joyless smile the man shot his way was an ice dagger going through his heart.
“Chuuya left his dog smell on me,” he tried to joke in a soft voice as he sniffled quietly. Chuuya scrunched his nose and flicked Dazai’s forehead.
“Oi, says the one who stinks of fish,” he whispered with no bite in his words. “I’m gonna have to burn these clothes now.”
Dazai hummed noncommittally and mumbled something that sounded like “finally” as he leaned into his touch, reaching to find Chuuya’s free hand.
“Take your shoes off if you’re going to keep freeloading here,” he said as he intertwined their fingers, feeling Dazai’s reassuring warmth through his leather gloves. “I don’t care if you step on the mess you made.”
Dazai gasped in theatrical disbelief, but visibly released some of the tension on his shoulders when he realized Chuuya was letting him stay. Chuuya chose not to delve into how warm that response made him feel inside.
“So heartless, Chibi,” he accused with a smile.
“Whatever,” dismissed Chuuya trying to act annoyed.
Dazai’s smile grew wider, and Chuuya couldn’t help but marvel internally at how genuine it felt. It suited Dazai.
He would get new china the following day, Chuuya guessed.