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Summary
“And what makes you think you’re good for Fyodor?” Chuuya’s voice is quiet.
At this, Dazai throws her head back and guffaws, drawing the attention of the people around them. She laughs and laughs, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. Chuuya stands before her, jaw clenched, a fire igniting in her chest.
In a shitty club at three in the fucking morning, with her hair and makeup a horrendous mess, Dazai has no right to look so beautiful.
“Oh no, no, you got it all wrong, tiny person who looks like my slug girlfriend,” Dazai finally says after reeling in her giggles, “Even I wouldn’t consider myself as trash as her. Fyodor and I are long over. I wouldn’t get back with her if you paid me a million dollars. Good fucking riddance. Besides…”
She pauses to take in a breath before muttering in a small voice, “No matter how much of an asshole she is, I’ve got a girlfriend that I wouldn’t trade for the world.”
Or: Dazai and Chuuya learn that communicating is apparently a requirement in relationships.
Series
- Part 1 of The Half I'll Always Need