Chapter Text
Dazai doesn't like Chuuya. But when he hears his name ring through the empty halls, he's the first to turn as if it were his own.
Dazai doesn't like Chuuya. But whenever their eyes meet, he can feel his soul being torn to pieces and scattered within them as orange flames welcome him with a tight embrace. As he becomes nothing in the eyes of everything.
Dazai doesn't like Chuuya. But he's learnt to match the skipping of his heart to the rhythm of Chuuya's laughter as it resonates in the deepest parts of his chest like an echo. He's memorized the pattern of his breathing, the number of freckles on his face, the feeling of his hand as it brushes against his own. The seconds it takes for Chuuya to pull away.
Dazai really doesn't like Chuuya.
He doesn't like the tired feeling he gets whenever Chuuya pushes him away. He doesn't like how it sinks into him, creating a weary pit inside his chest. He doesn't like how it feels almost painful, but in a way that he isn't used to. It doesn't feel like getting shot by a thousand bullets. In a way, it feels so much worse. Because it never leaves. It pulls at the strings of the heart he never had; tugging at the edges of his eyes, and yet never taking the leap.
He doesn't like the way he hesitates before every word. He doesn't like looking at Chuuya, seeing nothing more than nothing when he looks back. He doesn't like Chuuya. He doesn't like pain and he doesn't like Chuuya.
Dazai lays his head in the boney cushion of his arms, staring dead at the whiskey-filled glass in front of him. His phone vibrates in the pocket of his pants. He doesn't respond.
[Slug sent an image]
> Us
He doesn't respond because he doesn't like Chuuya.
[Mackerel reacted ❤️]
> hehe yeah