Chapter Text
The smell of cigarettes, papers tossed carelessly on the table, and the room dimly lit by a few candles. It was suffocating yet Dazai did not particularly mind it; it was a usual thing, as if a habit that never died down.
He slumped against his chair, bored, out of the world. He just finished getting through all of the submitted paperwork and had nothing else to do but to listen to the quiet patters of the rain. It matched his mood as much of a coincidence that is; his mind flooding with irrelevant thoughts. Nothing of the day was appealing, not even the stockpile of assassins, threatening his life.
As the mafia boss, it was nothing but quotidian.
Though, his little reverie was soon disrupted with a sudden knock.
He straightened up his back before immediately letting them in.
The lackey paced towards him, bowing respectfully before presenting a letter before him.
“Boss, someone had delivered a letter for you.”
Dazai examined the letter before lazily picking it up. His hand glides across the paper, eyeing the prickly golden design of a roses' stem that created a cross-like pattern. That somehow gave him the idea to whoever may be this mysterious sender.
He opened the letter and retrieved the paper inside. He unfolded it and read the words written beautifully in cursive. A sudden amused grin made out to his face as he read in his mind, over and over: "Don't keep me waiting, Osamu."
He faced the lackey, motioning for him that he was allowed to leave his office. Once the lackey left, he was yet again alone with his thoughts. Eager for what the night may bring.
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Fyodor, on the other hand, laid atop his mattress; his eyes focused on the ceiling, unblinking, almost as if he was waiting for someone to arrive.
His hair was slightly scattered, the faint light from the moonlight was slightly illuminating him; he looked breathtaking, as a certain brunet would always utter close to his ear. He never believed it at first, he considered himself rather plain, nothing out of the ordinary to be called breathtaking. Frankly, he never really cared to meet the standards of the others, but when it's Dazai, of course, when it's Dazai, it just had some effect.
He sighs to himself, feeling the ghostly touch of the air; imagining it was a certain brunets hand, caressing him and causing havoc to wherever it lands. Although, just a fragment of his imagination, it caused Fyodor to redden and moan at the thought.
“Osamu, why must you make me wait longer?”
He grumbled frustratingly, knowing that the growing heat below his clothes wouldn't ease without the youngers touch. And as if the Gods were listening to him, a sudden sound attracts Fyodors ear.
*Ding-dong!*
The sound reverberates from the front door to his room, the ravens eyes lazily blinked a little to break himself from his haze before sitting up. He couldn't deny it, he was eager despite the lack of haste in his movements— he was more and ever so exhilarated.
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“I see you've taken my invitation well, Dazai, boss of Port Mafia.”
Fyodor grinned, his joy unable to be masked now that the brunet was sat upon his cushion; tea in hand and a mirroring grin plastered on his lips.
“You could've just referred to me as Dazai, Fedya. We're friends for years, aren't we?” Dazai chuckled, tilting his head as if in question.
“Friends? We're no friends. More of an 'in-between', if I do say so myself. After all, what friends or enemies would press their lips onto another like a starved animal?”
Fyodor shook his head, letting out a chuckle as he raised a brow at Dazai.
"Perhaps fools. Regardless of what it is, I did not show up for your inquiry, and I'm guessing neither did you invite me to waste time.”
“Would you like to elaborate, Dazai-kun?”
“Do you really need me to?”
“How unusual. Dazai-kun, being impatient? I thought you liked how we discussed matters like this; expressing one anothers opinion and all of it.”
“That, I can't deny— I do.”
“So, what's the difference today?”
“What IS the difference today? I wonder.”
‘Pehaps it is the way your lips move when you speak, or maybe your voice that urges me to fall weak into your control. For all I know— it could be you, wholly.’ Dazai's mind say aloud; the thought of having Fyodor's cold lips touch his, while his arm wrapped on his waist— the worry of being on the opposite side threwn off the window. Though, Dazai's mind immediately scurried off the thought.
“What seems to be running on your mind, Dazai-kun?”
"None at all. Yours?"
“Fools. Friends cannot touch each others lips — but more so if you're enemies, where both stands on the opposite side. Only fools— lost and confused— would do such thing as to be intimate with an enemy.”
“Then we're fools, aren't we?”
“Perhaps, we are.”
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