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Summary
“Will we ever be more than this?” Chuuya idly said in a post-sex haze and delirium, looking up expectantly at the man who acted like a drug to the redhead. Chuuya hated how he continued to return to dazai’s bed like an obedient dog. He knew he was being used, and he returned anyway. Maybe he was a hopeful fool or maybe he enjoyed the feeling of attention. Either way here he was, laying in dazai’s bed, awaiting the day he will get the aftercare he craves for.
“Chuuya, I’ll die before I’m good enough for you to love.”