Work Text:
The rain pattered against the window of the large office. Shadows casted along the room from the amount of disorganized boxes and filing cabinets that were splayed out across the floor and desk that was currently being occupied by a tall, lean man. Honestly it was a miracle no one tripped and hurt themselves upon entering the Head Archivist’s office; a mess that was now all Osamu Dazai’s problem.
The man slumped over one of the boxes that perched on the wooden desk, occasionally blowing locks of brown hair out of his face. He eventually resorted to tucking his hair behind his ears the best he could as he fingered through the papers which was… proving to be a bit difficult with the band aids that covered his fingers. The paper cuts from the night before still stung but he tried to work through it.
“Really Mori… You’d think you would be a bit more organized when handling nearly a century's worth of case files and reports.” He hissed, cursing his predecessor. He had tried his best as he could while working under Mori and training as his successor to keep things organized but… apparently there was more work to be done.
Brown eyes struggled to focus on the task at hand, flickering at even the slightest of sounds. Dazai’s jaw clenched. He prided himself on his laid back demeanor despite everything but he could feel his whole body grow tense the more he tried to work. The single desk lamp that casted an eerie light that illuminated the room. It wasn’t until he felt his jaw ache from the tension that he noticed his hands shaking. He let out a small sigh as he fell back into the chair, his body nearly tipping it over completely as it rolled a few inches backward upon contact. He stared up at the ceiling as if searching for the source of his discomfort.
He was use it or at least… should be used to it at this point. The feeling of being watched that made his hair stand on end and his skin prick with unease for a long time. He should be use to it having been working at the Natsume Institute for little under three years at this point. God had it really been that long? Time was a weird thing and Dazai would ponder it every so often during sleepless nights or whenever he was alone in the office… Just like he was now. The rain outside made just enough background noise that Dazai wasn’t a subject to his thoughts. Though… that didn’t stop him from being acutely aware of his breathing and his heartbeat that thudded against his ribcage.
Dazai stayed put, eyes locked on the ceiling to the point where his gaze started to make endless and meaningless patterns of the architecture. The paranoid sense of being watched eventually left the man’s body… what once was scary and unsettling became familiar almost like an old friend dropping by to say hello. It was true it had become a constant in Dazai’s life ever since he stepped foot into the institute and if the man was being honest… he welcomed it with open arms. It wasn’t going to leave him like some people . He wasn’t alone and despite Dazai telling other people how much he enjoyed his solitude… he loathed it. He needed the company even if that company came in the form of an unknown entity that his workplace gained its power from. He’d take what he could get. He wasn’t all that picky… well maybe he was but he wasn’t going to bring himself to admit that. It was times like this that he missed him …
The faint sound of thunder rolling in from outside was just enough to rattle Dazai some. His gaze tearing from the ceiling to the window. He didn’t mind the rain. He enjoyed the sounds that came along with it. It took him back to when he was a child and he would go out and stand in it, letting the water cleanse him before his mother shouted at him to get inside before he got sick. He never did so he just assumed that was a myth.
His eyes went from the window back to the desk. Oh yeah… he was supposed to be working on sorting out files. He rolled his chair back to the desk, hand reaching over and taking a sip of the coffee he had come in with. Though somewhat cold it still held the bitter taste of the whiskey that Dazai poured into it that morning. His eyes started to skim across some of the papers that were visible to him on the desk; files that he had already pulled out in the hopes of starting to make some sense of this mess of an office. He paused when he noticed the familiar handwriting; his eyes traveled across the page. What better place to start recording than the statement that started his journey to the Institute? He had managed to find a tape recorder through the mess. Apparently Mori was at least trying to get things digitized before he mysteriously passed away so he was at least thankful for that… but a tape recorder of all things? He’d definitely settle for his laptop over something so ancient but it was better than nothing. He cleared his throat and set his coffee down. He fumbled with the buttons before finally getting it down and pressing start.
“Statement of Osamu Dazai, Head Archivist at the Nastume Institute, Yokohama in regards to a mysterious figure encountered in the forest just on the outskirts of town. Statement recorded by subject 5 years later on June 15th 2022. Original statement given on July 29th 2017. Statement begins….”
Oh god hearing it coming from his own mouth… He didn’t even know what possessed him but he couldn’t stop now. His voice shifted slightly to mimic that of his younger self to the best of his ability.
“Let me just get one thing straight, I knew we weren’t supposed to be there. It was Chuuya’s idea. It’s always his idea. I guess I should clarify that Chuuya Nakahara is a ‘punk’ or so he claims though I firmly believe otherwise. I told him that on multiple occasions and everytime he always figures out some way to try and prove me wrong. I just think it's just him trying to impress me. Don’t get me wrong, Chuuya’s a friend but he always made a habit of proving himself. Not that he didn't have a reason to. He got bullied at school for being the new kid at first and then when he came out he bullied for a whole other list of reasons. It was a weeknight and his brother wasn’t going to worry if he stayed out late but I knew my mother would be furious. Come to think of it, I don't really know what convinced me to tag along with him that day. Maybe it was morbid curiosity… Or maybe it was the way he looked at me? The glint in his eye was enough to draw me in and he knew that. I couldn’t say and even now it baffles me. Now we all know the stories revolving around the abandoned cabin in the woods just outside Yokohama and if you didn't know it well… There's a story of an old man that lived in that cabin. He was a puppeteer and lived alone with his son coming to visit and check up on him every so often. The only thing he had was the puppets he made and even after he left the business he still made them. Rumor spread that when his son came to check on him one day he found his father dead. His body was bloodied and his skin was flayed as if he was trying to give his creations the means to become real. Of course that was just legend but Chuuya being Chuuya insisted we go and check it out. We managed to find our way on the right path just after dark. It was a cold night and Chuuya managed to lead our way over there pretty quickly. I imagined he scoped out the spot earlier and managed to find his way back. I didn’t complain much… The sooner we could get Chuuya’s ‘test of manliness’ out of the way, the sooner we could either go back home or I could get a bit lucky. I know I know that sounds mean but regardless of what was in Chuuya’s pants he was still the same spitfire and I’m not picky.”
Dazai paused. This was his first time actually recording a statement on his own and it already took a bit out of him. Though he could chalk it up to the contents of the statement itself… reflecting on the redhead he talks so fondly about in his writing. He’d admit it stung a bit. God did he really sound that much like a brat when he was teen? No wonder Chuuya hit him so much. He deserves it! He gulped hard, eyes scanning the paper. Why did he write so much and why was he so long winded? Jesus christ why was he like this?! Was he still like this? He shook his head. He needed to push through. The tape was still going and he was the Head Archivist now.
“Regardless, the cabin looked like it had seen better days with a bit of overgrowth along the side and rotten wood in some areas. The weather hadn’t been kind to say the least. I will admit that I had a weird feeling about the place as we stepped inside. At first I thought it was just the stories I had overheard but when Chuuya flicked on his phone’s flashlight I finally understood as nearly a dozen blank sockets stared back at us. Puppets of different material littered almost every corner of the abandoned space. It was unnerving to say the least and honestly I didn’t want to stay in that place anymore than what I had to. I went to tell Chuuya that he had his fun and that we should go when I realized that he had walked further into the house… almost as if he was unphased by the amount of vacant stares. It wasn’t until I took a few steps forward and looked in the direction Chuuya was pointing his flashlight at that I realized why he wasn’t responding. There in the very far corner of the room next to the bed stood a tall, slender doll that hunched over. It was too tall to stand up straight. The plastic that wrapped around its limbs was dirty and warped in some areas due to the years of neglect. The black yarn that made up its hair was a tangled, matted mess. I couldn’t tear my gaze away but I could see the slight flicker of a secondary light and I realized that it was Chuuya’s lighter. This didn’t surprise me much as Chuuya had a thing for slight arson. Apparently flicking on that thing was a bad idea. My gaze flickered up to see the taller doll creaking forward. It’s head snapping up, almost if it was looking straight into my very soul. The air escaped my lungs as I reached forward. I grabbed a fistful of Chuuya’s clothes and yanked, dragging the other out the way we came with all my might. The dull echo of wooden joints and rusted parts moving for the first time in years filled my ears as we moved closer to the exit. I didn’t look back until we were further into the treeline. The smell of burning wood and melting plastic filled my nose as I finally turned to see the cabin now up in smoke. My grip finally loosened around the collar of Chuuya’s shirt, meeting his gaze for the first time since we arrived. There was a spark in those blue eyes… brighter than I had ever seen them before. I looked back at the cabin and saw a set of vacant unseeing sockets staring back at me. And for a moment… I didn't know if Chuuya’s or the doll’s gaze scared me more. Statement Ends.”
Dazai stared at the paper once he was finished, not realizing he was gripping it until he noticed the wrinkles and creases. He didn’t care that the tape recorder was still on. He didn’t want to look up. He had smelt it even before the door to the office opened… The faint smell of gasoline made his nose scrunch up even though it was familiar to him. But it wasn’t just gasoline… It was Tobacco, sandalwood, and an underline of cinnamon. He knew the other did everything to try and mask the smell but it still lingered.
“Didn’t think I’d get to see your smiling face this early in the morning. Couldn’t sleep I'm assuming.” He said as he finally gathered his courage and looked up.
There in the doorway, with his forearm propped up against the door to keep it open was Chuuya Nakahara. He was dressed in black jeans, slightly scuffed combat boots, and worn a white shirt… which Dazai knew was a tank top. However a red, grey hoodie flannel and black jean jacket laid over the white today instead of around his waist like most days. Red hair was tied back into a loose ponytail that hung off of one shoulder. His usual hat sat on his head though it was a bit crooked. The hat chain that Dazai had given him dangled in front of his face. He must’ve heard the rain and thunder outside which made sense to Dazai when it came to the other’s sour expression. Chuuya was never fond of the rain.
There was a pause between the two. Chuuya seemed like he was trying to choose his words carefully as he pulled a cigarette from the pack he always kept on him. Chuuya simply shrugged in reply at the end. Then again Dazai already knew the answer to that one as well.
“You slept down in the Artifact Storage again. Didn’t you?” Dazai asked, tilting his head some as he rested his chin on top of his folded hands. Elbows propped against the desk as his attention now was on the redhead in front of him.
“And so what if I was? Not like it concerns you what I do now.” Chuuya said though his usual snippy tone held no actual bite to it. In fact Dazai could hear just how tired he was and it did in fact concern him. “I was working late last night.”
“No you weren’t.”
Chuuya opened his mouth as if to retort back at the other even suggesting that he had lied but no words came out. Instead Chuuya just stuck the cigarette between his teeth almost in defeat. He patted his pockets and shifted through the ones in his jacket. Had he forgot his lighter downstairs? Well if he did… it was lost now. Swallowed up by the artifacts that laid down below. He arched an eyebrow at Dazai as he saw the other shuffle in his chair, only to pull out a zippo lighter.
Dazai flicked the light on. An unspoken invitation to his former lover. The silence was deafening between the two people until a loose floorboard creaked under the weight of Chuuya’s foot. The man tried to hide the smirk that lingered on his lips as Chuuya made his way forward like an insect getting drawn into a spider's web.
Brown eyes locking on blue ones. The sparks in Chuuya’s eyes still remained despite how tired he looked. He could see the freckles that dotted along the redhead’s face and ran down his neck. He didn’t have to imagine anything. He already knew how far they went. He had mapped the other’s body with his own hands many times over the four years they had been together. And if Chuuya asked him… he’d do it all over again regardless of where they stood now.
Dazai almost involuntarily leaned forward as Chuuya perched an arm against one of the boxes and leaned over to set the end of the cigarette ablaze. He wouldn’t call himself an addict but the creeping smell of gasoline was intoxicating. Chuuya was intoxicating. He closed the zippo lighter and was expecting Chuuya to pull away. He was surprised when he didn’t, instead blowing smoke in his face when he exhaled. Dazai didn’t care. There was a smirk that appeared on his face. He was cautious with his fingers as he reached up to run the back along the other’s jawline. He could feel the heat of the other’s skin already making his own scream in pain. And he thanked all the stars in the sky when Chuuya allowed him to.
Chuuya was and always had been a hot iron. And every time Dazai took the dare and touched him. He couldn’t help it. The soft skin was always worth the blistering burn marks he received in return and his kisses… were divine.
“Why are you here? There’s no reason for you to stay here with us broken up… I did drag you along.” Dazai’s voice was surprisingly soft as he spoke.
“Cause it’s familiar… Despite what I may say I do like this job. Why? Are you trying to make me quit or something?”
Dazai arched an eyebrow in response as the other spoke up. There was a small chuckle that escaped his lips before he replied. “You know you’re a pretty decent conversationalist when you’re not trying to pick fights.”
“I do not pick fights. You do when you poke my buttons.”
“I wouldn’t if it wasn’t so much fun to poke them.”
It was familiar and it almost took Dazai back to moments back on their couch or their kitchen back when they shared an apartment. Almost…though the thought of Dazai’s apartment now made his body cold. Chuuya had took the warmth with him when they split.
“No.”
Chuuya suddenly pulling away made Dazai react without even thinking. His hand grasped the other’s chin tightening. His body tensed as the sudden burning pain shot up his arm. It felt as if he stuck his hand into a fire pit but he didn’t care. His jaw clenched before he visibly forced himself to relax. He was a desperate man. A vulnerable man and there was no doubt Chuuya could see that in his eyes.
“Dazai… no.” Chuuya stood firm but yet he didn’t try to move. He didn’t pull away. It was almost as if he was asking Dazai to say it. Like he wanted Dazai to actually say that he needed him after a year apart.
Dazai was silent. He could hear the faint sizzling of his fingertips. The pain now blocked from his brain as his eyes locked on Chuuya. He will say up and down that he didn’t need anyone and that the Eye was the only constant that he needed. But the truth was that… he was lonely. He was so lonely as he looked into the eyes of the man that he had loved for most of his life…. The apartment was too big and the entity was nothing but a cold watcher. It couldn’t warm his body. It couldn’t soothe him on sleepless nights. He wet his dry lips, his mouth suddenly dry as he tried to find the words.
“Stay….” His voice was barely above a whisper and he sounded more pitiful than what he was hoping he would.
“You’re playing with something that will hurt you. Again.” Chuuya warned, taking a gloved hand and slowly pulling Dazai off of him. Inspecting the wound some. “My point right here.”
Dazai sighed. His mind started to wander… back to why they broke up in the first place. The conversation of him overworking himself and Chuuya’s at the time newly awaken powers. The conversation that eventually turned into a fight and Chuuya leaving. He was too stubborn for his own good sometimes.
His fingers throbbed and his hand hurt but he was determined. He lost Chuuya once and had regretted ever since… for a year he festered and wrestled in his self hate. Diving full force into work to distract himself and picking fights with Chuuya in order to feel something.
He didn’t know what came over him as he pulled himself from his chair. He yanked the cigarette from Chuuya’s mouth as his lips collided with the redhead’s. He ran his injured hand through Chuuya’s hair. The heat made his lips tingle but it didn’t burn as much as he thought it would’ve. His lips were still as soft as he remembered and by the gods he wanted more… He pulled away with a hiss as the pain started to become unbearable. His glasses were fogged up by the heat but he didn’t care. He went in for another but Chuyya pressed a firm hand against his mouth. It was then that Dazai realized the flush that colored his cheeks.
“What the hell got into you?”
Dazai chuckled slightly as Chuuya stuttered about his words. He adored when the other became so flustered. There was a cheeky grin on his face as Chuuya gave him a half heartened glare.
“Call me nostalgic.” He said in reply, “I may have… also realized that if it wasn’t for you and your stubbornness I wouldn’t be here right now. I just thought I’d thank you properly.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes. Of course the other would make up an excuse like this. Anything to avoid his actual feelings. It wouldn’t be the first time…
“Oh sure. That’s what you’re going with this time?” Chuuya said, taking his hand and flicking the other in the forehead hard enough to make Dazai flinch.
Dazai smirked. He tugged the other by the edge of his jacket, lips barely brushing against the other’s. He wanted another taste. Chuuya was prepared this time around, bracing himself against Dazai’s shoulder. His gloved fingers digging into the cotton of the other’s sweater as a smirk of his own curled his lips upward.
“You’re playing with fire Archivist….”
The sultry tone Chuuya used sent a shiver down Dazai’s spine. The redhead knew just how to rile him up and he wasn’t expecting his new title to do anything to him but… it did. Then again it could’ve just been because it was Chuuya. He wasn't opposed to adding more disrray to the already disorganized office.
“And what if I am? I’m not afraid of getting burned.” Dazai purred back before finally going in for another kiss.