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Dazai had wide shoulders.
That hadn’t always been the case. He might have always been a stupid beanpole, but a lanky, scrawny beanpole nonetheless. Chuuya had been able to measure his scapulas with his thumb and middle finger, that’s how gaunt he had been.
Now, as Chuuya felt the light blue shirt hang over his frame, he could see the shoulders seams nearly resting over his elbows.
The last time he had worn something of the bandaged idiot, the fabric of his shirts had been tight over his own shoulders, forget about trying to button the front part, it just wouldn’t do. And now, despite Chuuya never faltering on his strict exercise regime, he was swimming in the fish’s clothes.
Huh.
Chuuya looked over his own shoulder to the mess of a man still sleeping on the bed.
Because, while Chuuya hadn’t been looking, Dazai had been able to grow into himself, from a boy to a man.
It wasn’t only his wide shoulders, it was also his back, the vertebrae weren’t poking out, threatening to break the skin out. Dazai was still a skinny bastard through and through but he wasn’t malnourished anymore, Chuuya had been able to feel it last night, how he couldn’t feel the creaky ribs under his hands, how his clavicles were defined but not sharp anymore, how the dimple on the corner of his mouth was more pronounced now.
He was twenty-two now.
Chuuya padded his way to the minimal kitchen of the flat they had managed to snag for a night at the outskirts of Meursault to make himself some coffee. If it had been for him, he would be already halfway to Yokohama, but with Dazai’s broken leg they couldn’t be harsh. Or, at least, that had been the brunette’s bullshit excuse for spending one more night in France before flying out.
Chuuya should have known that nothing good could come out of being with Dazai and that pretty mouth of his, should have known that the second bed would be of no use the second Dazai smirked his way, almost boyish in his self-confidence.
Some things had changed, but others seemed to have stayed the same between them.
It seemed that Chuuya, despite four years of separation and one of being in rival organisations, would always come when Dazai called.
How pathetic he was.
Chuuya looked out the open window as the coffee brewed, towards the french countryside. He had wanted to visit the country since his meeting with Rimbaud and now he was there. It was a pity he had come to get his ex-partner out of prison and not to get a taste of the local wineries.
He would have to come back.
As Chuuya mussed over the logistics of his hypothetical trip back to the region, watching the sun rise over the horizon, he heard the tell-tale sign of a cane against the loose wooden floorboards.
The movements were still stiff and uncertain, but they managed to make their way towards the kitchen, where Chuuya was already serving two cups of freshly made coffee. However, to the redhead’s surprise, Dazai didn’t go for the cup, he reached for him.
A slimy arm snaked its way over his waist, the greedy fingers dancing in between the blue cloth and his freckled skin, as a pointy chin made its home over his own shoulder. Going for the fatal blow, Dazai dropped a distracted peck on his neck, just over his choker, which made him shudder.
That was also something that had changed since their days in the Mafia: that gentleness.
They had had sex multiple times in their teens, really, they had done it all around the headquarters and in less than safe places post-mission. They were young, hormonal and high on the codependency and trust they couldn’t share with anyone else so, of course, the only way they had of expressing the tumultuous feelings they had was to push each other against the first semi-clean surface they could find. It was never gentle between them, it was urgent and rapid and uncoordinated, always clothed and filled with unsaid words.
Last night hadn’t been like that at all. It had been shamelessly sweet.
Chuuya never thought he would have gentle sex in his life, didn’t think it was something that he would ever enjoy either. He liked it fast and hard and almost bordering on painful, he liked that it made him forget for some time, just like Dazai had.
But, last night, after five years of not touching each other, they had taken their time.
They had kissed.
Dazai had kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, his neck, his whole body, his lips, as if he wanted to savor him. Always slowing down when Chuuya had gotten impatient, always quieting his protest with a maddening intense kiss that had him panting like a stupid teenager after their first ever peck: completely enraptured.
And now, he kept kissing him, light innocent pecks all over his neck and cheek, as if he couldn’t stay away.
‘Truly a billion dollar masterpiece.’ Dazai mumbled against his cheek, sighing. ‘You should only ever wear my shirt forever, chibi.’
‘Stop spouting fucking nonsense, shitty Dazai.’ Chuuya rolled his eyes, too used to his poisoned honeyed words to get flustered anymore. ‘We’re leaving in an hour and the coffee is getting cold. The trip back is fucking long and I don’t wanna have to deal with your uncaffeinated ass longer than necessary so fucking get on with it.’
‘So bossy.’ Dazai groaned, like the big baby he was, and still not moving an inch.
‘You’re the one who said this is not over yet, mackerel.’ Chuuya huffed, taking a sip of his own cup. ‘We can’t stay here forever.’
‘Pity.’
Chuuya chuckled. ‘Shut the fuck up, you lazy bastard, you would get bored of this in less than a day.’
‘And Chuuya would start missing his tacky hats, his embarrassing poetry books and being a brute in less than twelve hours.’ Dazai replied snottily.
He wasn’t wrong. It hadn’t been that long since he had landed in France and he had already missed two tea dates with Ane-san, a night out with the Black Lizards and some shopping trips with Elise. He missed his home.
‘Yeah, this place is not for us.’ Chuuya agreed as he sighed, wishing a little bit that it was.
The bigger part of him knew that he really wouldn’t like it: he just liked the feeling of having Dazai clinging to him after so many years.
‘We can always come back after it’s all over, just a couple of days.’ Dazai hummed as he stole the last sips of coffee from Chuuya. ‘Right, partner?’
Chuuya looked over his shoulder to the overgrown octopus that was determined to trap him in his arms forever.
He wasn’t his partner anymore. His partner covered his blind eye, his partner had this unfeeling smile plastered on his face, his partner’s chest was hollow.
His partner would never look at him like that, hopeful chocolate eyes, waiting for him to accept a honeymoon proposal like it was nothing, like there was no need for any previous ceremony between them because they were already as close as two humans can get.
‘You’re serious?’
Dazai grinned and kissed his nose playfully. ‘I know Chuuya’s little alcoholic heart is disappointed we don’t have time to tour the local wineries.’
‘No, idiot.’ Chuuya turned around completely, facing head on into the daunting conversation in front of them. ‘Us coming here together.’
Dazai tilted his head to the side, looking at him mockingly, like he had always done when Chuuya had said something the great genius deemed stupid. ‘Chuuya can’t be that dense. Did you manage to miss all of my great discourse back there?’
‘I was fucking drowning in between your stupid pantomimes, you absolute asshole!’ Chuuya growled.
‘Oh, Chuuya used a big word correctly! Old dogs can learn new tricks after all.’ Chuuya slapped the idiot’s arm, which tightened around his waist, making the bastard laugh. ‘Ouch, ouch, that’s abuse!’
‘It’s deserved, that’s what it is!’ Chuuya would swear up until his last breath that he wasn’t pouting, he didn’t pout, that was Dazai’s insufferable thing.
‘C’mon, slug, are you really going to make me say it all again?’ Dazai sounded more fond than inconvenienced. ‘Can’t you see it?’
The shared bed for a whole night, the borrowed shirt, the possessive hold and the soft kisses.
Chuuya could see the temporary signs of intimacy floating around them, but he also knew they would only last until they got on that plane back home.
Dazai’s love didn’t mean shit if it was only for a morning.
Because Dazai wasn’t the only one that had changed, Chuuya had too.
Meanwhile his old self would have been over the moon with these crumbs of Dazai’s affection, his teenager lovesickness overflowing, he was also twenty two now and he needed more.
‘I’m not letting you waste my time again, mackerel.’ Chuuya scrunched up his nose with disgust.
Dazai hummed in understanding. He let his cane rest against the wall and lifted his now free hand towards Chuuya’s face, cupping his cheek with his perpetually cold hands. Chuuya could feel the chill running down his back.
‘We don’t have the time right now for all the things I need to say to you and there are some others I’m not yet ready to tell.’ Dazai whispered, his thumb resting sweetly under his tired blue eyes. ‘But, I want to say them, I really want to talk to you about everything that happened. I know you know the gist of it but I want to say them and explain and everything else that came after.’
Chuuya gulped and Dazai smiled crookedly, that damned dimple making Chuuya’s knees weak.
‘You’re the only one I want to talk about any of it, about everything, with.’ Dazai sighed, seeming a bit self-conscious with his own words but powering through. ‘There never will be anyone else I can trust as much.’
Chuuya may always come, but it seemed like Dazai only called for him.
Chuuya left his empty cup on the counter and, surprising them both, threw his arms around Dazai’s neck to kiss him. They stumbled, Dazai’s bad leg giving out a bit, but they managed to stay somewhat upright.
Dazai gasped but he didn’t waste a second before kissing him right back. Chuuya hid his blooming smile in between the kiss, but he had the suspicion that Dazai knew anyway with the way he cradled him like something precious.
Chuuya was the first one to break the moment, Dazai chasing his lips shamelessly back. ‘We have to go back.’
‘I’m sure they can survive without us for a couple of hours more.’ Dazai bit the corner of his lips playfully, always a horny bastard.
‘No.’ Chuuya stayed firm despite the goosebumps Dazai’s fingers created as they found their way under his shirt. ‘I want to go to our home.’
Dazai’s good eye, brighter than it had ever been, shone with absolute delight as he planted one last kiss on his freckled cheek. ‘Ok, whatever my chibi wants, let’s go home already.’
Chuuya felt his ears warm and his mouth aching from all his smiling and sweet kissing.
Maybe change wasn’t that bad if it had led Dazai Osamu back into his arms.