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Summary
The last time Chuuya woke up next to his other half in Soukoku , he was 18 years old and just weeks away from being declared an executive to fill one of the two empty spots left behind by his partner following his defection—at the time, temporarily dubbed his death—his final success.
Now, the weight on his shoulder is a bit different yet undeniably, gut-wrenchingly familiar.
Uncombed, practically matted brown hair threatens to tickle at his nose making Chuuya want to vomit. Wishing to avoid waking a sleeping Dazai—better than a pained, whiny Dazai—Chuuya threads his hands through Dazai’s tangled hair as best he can.
(Or: Dazai, Chuuya, the flight back to Yokohama, and their mission not being over yet.)
