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cigarette smell always followed after chuuya. not the smell of cold cigs that died three hours ago, but that of tobacco that still burns, burns its way through chuuya's skin when he can’t find an ashtray, burns its way through dazai's soul and makes him stare in worry at the other's smoke-filled mouth. well, worry — but still, behind those amber eyes, there’s a pulsing desire to have someone's cigarettes crushed against his overly pale skin
in fact, he just
desired chuuya
immensely so.
chuuya and his body that is just so much like the smoke that swirls out of his mouth all the time
please, he’d yearn for chuuya’s every little detail. even the simplest, like his hair. he knew how soft it was, though he felt stupid knowing that. after every time corruption was used, dazai would not immediately make a call to make sure chuuya was brought back to the mafia; no, he’d keep him, even just a little. he’d lightly stroke his hair and think, strangely, that the ruins around them were just perfect. chuuya lying on rubble, a god carried by its worshippers,
those things didn’t seem so different after all
(in the depths of his mind, dazai just knew
that he’d be okay to have his tongue ripped away, if chuuya did it with his teeth)
silence had no place by chuuya’s side.
there was always some engine rumbling, a lighter clicking or the melody of alcohol steadily flowing down someone’s throat
and dazai could hear his heart beat loudly enough to break his ribcage
could feel his blood run in his veins.
all that noise felt reassuring, somehow
dazai was like a crushed daisy in chuuya’s palm, and still, he craved warmth. he stared at chuuya, and at the cigarette between his lips. it was the last one
its smoke looked like the marks on chuuya’s skin when he uses corruption
the cigarette reaches its end; chuuya’s got no ashtray, but hey,
he’s got pretty hands
dazai felt a rush, at this moment
and his hand rushed to save chuuya’s skin from the cigarette’s burning death
chuuya looked on, stunned and mute, and dazai;
a tiny moan had sprouted from his incapacity to dissociate the pain from the glee
both were burning on the back of his hand
he liked being chuuya’s ashtray