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The Port Mafia's headquarters were eerily quiet for once. Christmas Eve wasn't exactly a big deal among the city's underworld, but it was one of those rare nights when people stepped back from scheming, plotting, and killing to spend a quiet evening—or at least that was the theory.
Chuuya Nakahara was not feeling festive.
Standing on the rooftop of the mafia’s high-rise overlooking Yokohama, he pulled his scarf tighter against the chill. His breath puffed out in white clouds as he tilted his head back to watch the snow drift lazily from the sky.
He should’ve been with the other members tonight, at least pretending to enjoy the low-key holiday gathering Mori had thrown. Instead, he had claimed a headache and escaped to the solitude of the cityscape. A bottle of good wine—half-empty—was tucked beside him, and his boots crunched lightly against the frost-covered surface as he paced.
It was peaceful, for once. Too peaceful.
“You’re sulking, Chibi.”
The red head whipped around, the bottle in his hand sloshing as he glared at the figure emerging from the shadows of the roof access. “What the hell are you doing here, Dazai?!”
The bandage covered boy stepped into the moonlight with his usual smirk plastered across his face, hands tucked into his pockets. His black trench coat swayed slightly in the breeze as he approached, like he had all the time in the world.
“Me? Oh, just taking a leisurely stroll. Can’t a man enjoy a nice winter night without being accused of harassment?” He paused dramatically, tapping a finger to his chin. “Though I suppose bumping into you is a delightful bonus.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t stick. “Leisurely stroll, my ass. You’re stalking me, aren’t you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve got better things to do,” The other replied smoothly, although the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise. He stopped a few paces away, leaning against the railing casually. “But you looked so lonely up here, like a poor little elf abandoned by Santa.”
The red head scoffed. “Tch. Don’t start with your crap. What do you want, Dazai? Shouldn’t you be enjoying Mori’s half assed excuse for a party?”
Dazai pretended to think about it, holding up a finger. “Maybe I just wanted to see how dear old Chibi was doing with his ‘so called headache’ hm?”
“Or I just wanted to see if you’d share that bottle of wine with me.”
“You? Wine? Since when do you drink anything that isn’t cheap sake?”
“Since it’s free and coming from you,” The bandaged boy quipped, stepping closer.
For a moment, Chuuya debated just decking him and being done with it. But something about the night—the calmness, the snow, or maybe the fact that he was too tired to deal with a full-blown argument—made him relent. With a grumble, he handed the bottle over.
“Fine. But if you drain it, I’m throwing you off this roof.”
“You could do that either way you know” the bandaged boy mumbled. Yet Dazai's grin grew wider as he grabbed the bottle. "Feeling generous tonight, Chuuya? Must be the Christmas spirit!"
“Don’t push your luck.”
The two stood there for a while, passing the bottle back and forth in relative silence. The city sprawled below them, its lights twinkling like a sea of stars. For all their bickering, the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. It was rare for the two of them to share a moment like this—no knives, no insults (well, fewer insults), and no battles of ego.
“You know,” Dazai said suddenly, his voice softer than usual, “it’s kind of nice up here. Peaceful, even.”
The red head glanced at him, surprised. He wasn’t used to this tone from the other boy—the one that almost made him seem human.
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” Chuuya muttered, looking away.
“Don’t worry, I won’t. Peace is overrated anyway,” Dazai replied, but there was no bite in his words.
For a while longer, they just stood there, two unlikely companions sharing a bottle of wine on a snowy Christmas Eve.
“Hey, Chuuya,” Dazai said, breaking the silence again.
“What now?”
“you’re short...”
The red head blinked, caught off guard. He immediately felt himself getting angry, almost saying ‘don’t bring my height into this, you suicidal maniac!’ or something along those lines. But instead, he huffed, shaking his head. “You’re such a pain in the ass, Dazai.”
A soft chuckle escaped the other’s lips. “Merry Christmas.”
Chuuya blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. He doesn’t say it back, but his lips quirked up, just a little.
And Dazai—of course—noticed.
-
The cold wasn’t letting up, but neither of them made a move to leave the rooftop.
Chuuya’s scarf was pulled tightly around the red haired boy, and his gloved hands rested on the railing, idly brushing snow off the edge. Next to him, Dazai leaned over like he didn’t have a care in the world, his dark coat dusted with fresh flakes. The bottle of wine was long gone, tucked into the snow, almost as a makeshift decoration. And silence had fallen over them again—mostly because Chuuya had given up snapping at the other’s annoying remarks.
“You’re being unusually quiet, Chibi,” Dazai said at last, his voice soft but teasing. “Is it the holiday mood? Or did the wine finally mellow you out?”
Chuuya shot him a sideways glare but didn’t immediately rise to the bait like he usually would. “You’re the one who said it was peaceful up here. Thought I’d let you enjoy it before you start running your mouth again.”
“Ah, how considerate of you.” Dazai placed a hand over his heart as though genuinely touched.
The red head groaned and let his head drop against the railing. “You’re impossible. Why am I even letting you stay?”
“Because, deep down, you’d be lonely without me here.”
“Lonely?! Like hell I would!”
Dazai chuckled, a low, warm sound that somehow didn’t irritate Chuuya as much as it should have. For once, there wasn’t a trace of malice or smugness in it—just genuine amusement.
“See? I knew I could get you talking again.”
“Idiot,” Chuuya muttered, though his tone lacked its usual sharp edge.
For a while longer, they both gazed out at the city below. Snow swirled in the glow of the streetlights, and the muffled sounds of life carried up faintly from the streets. Somewhere in the distance, faint church bells chimed midnight.
"Wouldn’t it be nice to die on an evening like this Chibi?”
Aaaand It’s ruined.
“Shut it mackerel.” The red head wasn’t feeling like listening to another one of the other boy’s suicide rants. Not tonight, not on Christmas eve.
“You’re the only one who’d let me crash their Christmas, you know. No one else ever puts up with me for this long... not even Mori.”
Switching from topic to topic huh? That's the mood he’s in right now? Chuuya thinks to himself.
The red head raises an eyebrow, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. “What, are you trying to get me to feel sorry for you?”
“Of course not. That would imply I actually need pity.” The bandaged boy leaned back, spreading his arms dramatically. “I’m simply acknowledging how generous you’re being tonight, even though you pretend to hate me.”
Chuuya snorted. “Pretend? You’re really full of it tonight, huh?”
“Maybe...” The boy pauses, “Yet you’re still here.”
Chuuya opened his mouth to fire back, but the words faltered. It was true—he could have told Dazai to leave an hour ago, and he knew the idiot would have left if he’d been serious about it. But... he hadn’t.
Damn that idiot mackerel.
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the snow, or the way the city looked so peaceful from up here. Or maybe it was just the fact that, for all his flaws, Dazai was someone who understood him better than anyone else.
“Tch. Whatever.” The red head shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to act like the conversation wasn’t getting to him. “It’s not like I had plans tonight, anyway. You’re lucky I was bored.”
“Oh, is that what it is? I’m your backup Christmas plan?”
Chuuya rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you off this roof yet.”
“You realize I’d be fine with that right?” Dazai laughed again, a bright sound that sent a puff of breath into the cold air. Then, without warning, he reached out and grabbed Chuuya’s scarf, tugging it playfully.
“Hey, what the hell are you—”
“Relax,” Dazai said, deftly looping the scarf a little tighter around Chuuya’s neck, he was way too close for the red head to feel comfortable about it... “You’ll catch a cold if you don’t wear this properly. Can’t have my partner dying of something so boring.”
Chuuya batted his hands away, his face flushing in indignation—and maybe just a little bit from the unexpected gesture. “I’m not a damn kid, Dazai!”
“Technically you are, but you’re also just fun to mess with.” Dazai’s grin widened, but there was a strange warmth behind it, like he wasn’t entirely joking.
For once, Chuuya didn’t push him away. He muttered something under his breath about insufferable idiots, but he let Dazai adjust the scarf anyway.
“Done,” Dazai said, stepping back with a flourish. “Now you look adorable. Like a little Christmas elf.”
Chuuya’s face went red for real this time. “Dazai!”
Laughing, Dazai darted out of reach just as the other lunged at him, his boots slipping slightly on the snowy rooftop. But for all the chaos that followed, the soft warmth of that moment lingered—an unspoken truce between two people who couldn’t admit that they might actually enjoy each other’s company.
-
The snow fell heavier now, blanketing the rooftop in a soft, shimmering white. The city’s hum had quieted even more, as if Yokohama itself was holding its breath to savor the rare peace.
The red head huffed, finally pulling back from his half-hearted attempt to pummel Dazai, who—surprise, surprise—had managed to evade every swing with infuriating ease.
“Idiot,” Chuuya muttered, brushing snow off his coat. “You’re worse than a damn child.”
“And yet, you still haven’t left,” The other quipped, leaning casually against the railing. He reached out, catching a snowflake on his fingertip. “You know, Chuuya, you’re kind of like snow.”
Chuuya froze mid-swipe, one eyebrow twitching. “What the hell are you talking about now?”
“Snow,” Dazai repeated, twirling his finger as the flake melted. His voice took on a contemplative tone. “It’s cold, temperamental, and impossible to ignore. Just like you.”
The comparison was so absurd that Chuuya blinked at him, speechless for once. Then his jaw tightened, and his voice rose an octave. “Are you seriously comparing me to frozen water right now?!”
“Did you ever notice how snow looks kind of like sugar?”
Chuuya groaned. “What now? You’re going to compare me to sugar, too?”
“No, no,” The other replied, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying...” Chuuya huffs.
The bandaged boy grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Oh, don’t be mad, Slug. Snow is beautiful, too. Soft and gentle, but capable of turning into a deadly avalanche when pushed too far. Very fitting, don’t you think?”
The red head stared at him, his cheeks dusting pink despite the biting cold. “You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you?”
“I’d argue I’m enhancing it,” Dazai replied, looking far too smug for his own good.
The other boy groaned and turned back to the railing, gripping it tightly as he let his head hang forward. “Why do I even put up with you?”
“Because I’m irresistible.”
“Because you’re insufferable.”
Dazai chuckled and stepped closer, brushing the snow off the railing next to Chuuya. “Well, if you’re not going to leave, we might as well make the most of it.”
“And how exactly do you suggest we do that?” Chuuya asked, shooting him a skeptical glance.
Dazai’s grin widened as he bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. “Like this.”
Before Chuuya could react, a small but expertly packed snowball hit him square in the face.
“You did not just—”
“Oh, I absolutely did.”
Chuuya’s eyes narrowed, and in one fluid motion, he bent down, grabbed his own snowball, and hurled it back at Dazai with deadly precision. Using his ability to make it go faster.
To the red head’s disappointment Dazai—barely—managed to duck in time, laughing as the snow exploded harmlessly against the railing behind him.
“Your aim’s gotten rusty, Chibi!”
“Stand still, and I’ll show you rusty!”
And just like that, the rooftop devolved into chaos. Snow flew in every direction as the two of them exchanged volleys, Dazai darting and weaving like the world’s most annoying shadow while Chuuya pursued him with unrelenting determination.
At some point, Dazai slipped on an icy patch and went down with a surprised yelp. Chuuya didn’t hesitate, pouncing on him like a cat and shoving a fistful of snow into his face.
“Take that, you bastard!”
Dazai sputtered, half-laughing and half-gasping as he tried to push the other boy off. “Alright, alright, I surrender! Mercy!”
Chuuya finally relented, collapsing onto the snow beside him, his chest heaving with exertion. His laughter echoed across the rooftop, light and unguarded in a way Dazai rarely got to hear.
“You’re such a pain,” the red head muttered once he’d caught his breath, though there was no trace of the usual venom in his voice.
“And yet, you’re smiling,” Dazai replied, turning his head to look at him.
Chuuya’s laughter faltered, and for a moment, the air between them shifted. The usual tension that marked their interactions softened, replaced by something quieter, more fragile.
“It’s just... the snow,” Chuuya said finally, looking away. “It’s been a while since I’ve done something stupid like this.”
“Well,” Dazai said, propping himself up on his elbows, “if it takes me to make you loosen up, maybe I should stick around more often.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Chuuya replied, he didn’t mean it. The red head was honestly enjoying his time with the mackerel for once.
Dazai smiled, a rare, genuine smile that caught the other off guard.
“Too late,” The bandaged boy said softly.
Chuuya blinked, then shoved a handful of snow into Dazai’s hair. “You’re impossible.”
Dazai laughed, shaking the snow free as he sat up. “And you’re predictable, Chuuya. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The world seemed so quiet and distand. And neither of them felt quite so alone.
-
The snowball truce lasted longer than either of them expected, leaving Dazai and Chuuya sprawled in the snow, quietly catching their breath. Chuuya had stopped worrying about how ridiculous they looked, lying there like two kids on Christmas break. The quiet between them was... nice.
The snow continued to fall, thick and steady, as if the world itself had decided to freeze in time. The city sprawled beneath them, a glittering sea of lights that twinkled like distant stars. Up here, on the quiet rooftop, everything was muffled by the snow and the silence that hung between the two of them.
It was, Chuuya thought, the kind of night that made you forget everything else—the pain, the responsibilities, the constant grind of being part of the underworld. For once, there was nothing except the snow, the city, and the strange, unspoken truce that had settled between him and the boy beside him.
Dazai shifted slightly beside him, the soft rustle of his coat breaking the silence. His gaze lingered on the city, and for a moment, Chuuya thought he might say something ridiculous, as usual. But instead, the bandaged boy stayed quiet.
For a long time, they didn’t speak. The red head found that he didn’t really mind. There was something strangely comforting about the stillness, as if they were the only two people in the world who mattered at that moment. It was as though the weight of everything—the Port Mafia, the constant fighting, the years of history between them—had been lifted, even if just for a few minutes.
"Hey, Chuuya," Dazai said, breaking the quiet at last. The red head felt annoyed, no longer being able to enjoy the silence.
Chuuya glanced at him, noticing how the glow of the city lights reflected off Dazai's face, softening the usual sharpness of his features. He looked... different. Almost... vulnerable. It was a side of Dazai Chuuya didn’t see often.
“What?”
Dazai didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something small wrapped in velvet cloth.
“I... I got you something,” Dazai said, almost too casually, as if it wasn’t a big deal.
Chuuya raised an eyebrow. “Got me something? You?”
“Yeah, yeah,” The boy said, grinning in that annoyingly carefree way of his. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m capable of being thoughtful, you know.”
“You sure about that?” The red head replied, eyeing him skeptically.
“Totally,” Dazai said, unwrapping the velvet cloth to reveal a small, delicate pocket watch, its surface glinting in the dim light. The watch was old-fashioned, with a polished brass exterior and intricate engravings along the rim. The back had a simple design—an intricate swirl of vines—engraved with such detail that it almost seemed to come alive.
Chuuya stared at it, his confusion growing. “A pocket watch? What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”
“Use it to keep track of time, of course,” Dazai said with a grin.
Chuuya blinked at him, still unsure. “You think I need a watch?”
“No,” Dazai replied, his tone suddenly more serious, “but I thought it might be a reminder. A reminder that, no matter how much time we waste... or lose, there’s still time left to change things. To do something different, even if it feels like everything’s stuck.”
Chuuya’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, the usual sharp retort he had on the tip of his tongue faltered. He turned the pocket watch over in his hand, running his thumb over the engraving. There was something quietly meaningful about it—the thought behind the gift, the small but profound gesture.
“Osamu...”
“I figured,” The bandaged boy continued, his voice softer, “it might be a good reminder for you, you know, not to get caught up in the past. Even people like us have some time left.”
Chuuya’s chest tightened at the unexpected sincerity in the other boy’s voice. He had always known Dazai was a complicated person, full of contradictions, but this side of him—the one that wasn’t making a joke, wasn’t trying to tear down everything around him, and most importantly of all wasn’t trying to kill himself—was something the red head hadn’t seen in a long while.
“I... don’t know what to say,” Chuuya muttered, his words catching in his throat.
“Don’t say anything,” Dazai replied with a soft smile. “You don’t have to. I just wanted you to have something.”
Chuuya stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of the pocket watch in his hand. It was just a simple gift, but the thought behind it made it feel like something more. Something about it settled in his chest—something warm, something that made him feel... less alone.
Finally, he met Dazai’s gaze, and despite his usual irritation, despite the history between them, there was something unspoken, something fragile that passed between them.
“Tch. You’re an idiot.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” Dazai replied with a grin, clearly delighted by the small crack in Chuuya’s usual defenses, as well as his voice. Because yes, as embarrassing as the red head found it, his voice cracked...
Chuuya rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Aw, come on,” The other teased, “you’re telling me you don’t like it? It’s a beautiful watch. You’ll always have time for us to argue, after all... Maybe we can even plan time stamps now!”
Chuuya felt a soft chuckle escape his lips. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess.”
They both fell into a comfortable silence again, but this time, the quiet wasn’t awkward. It was easy, and the weight of the moment didn’t feel so heavy.
Dazai turned to look at the city, his expression pensive once again. “Chuuya,” he said quietly, his voice more serious than before.
“What?”
“Do you ever think about just leaving? About walking away from all of this... from the Mafia, from everything?”
Chuuya’s breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t a question he’d ever really considered in any deep way. He had his pride, his purpose, and his place in the world. But Dazai’s question left him uncertain for a brief moment.
“I’ve thought about it,” he said, his voice low. “When I first started, last year. But it’s mafia... It’s not something you just walk away from, you know?”
Dazai looked at him, his eyes serious. “I know. Same here. But sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to start fresh, somewhere far away. No more schemes, no more bloodshed... just a quiet life.”
“You? The suicidal maniac, the one who got me to join the mafia in the first place? Suddenly want to leave?”
“No... I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And I have a Slug to annoy.” The bandaged boy paused for a moment, “But I would want to know what it’s like.”
The red head stared at the other for a long moment, the thought settling in his mind. It was a dream, an impossible fantasy. But the idea of it—of leaving everything behind and just... being?
“Yeah,” Chuuya said softly, “I guess it’s nice to think about.”
Dazai smiled slightly, his gaze softening as he stared out at the snowy city. “Maybe we’ll never have a chance like that in the futur!” Another pause, “But for tonight, I’ll settle for this.”
Chuuya couldn’t disagree. For tonight, he could forget about the weight of the world on his shoulders. He could just... exist.
As the snow continued to fall, Chuuya found himself inching closer to Dazai, the warmth of his presence an unspoken comfort. Dazai didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned back against the railing, brushing his shoulder against Chuuya’s.
They sat there in silence, watching the snow continue to blanket the city below them. For once, everything felt right, even if just for a moment.
And neither of them said a word as the night stretched on, the world outside frozen in time.
-
The snow had begun to pile up around them, but neither Chuuya nor Dazai seemed eager to move. For once, the biting cold was more of an afterthought than a nuisance.
It’s been a couple of hours since the bandaged boy arrived on the rooftop. Around three or four, the red head guesses.
They’ve been seated next to each other for a little while now. Simply enjoying eachother company.
If any of the mafia members saw them now.
Soukoku.
No bickering, no fighting or trying to kill each other. They’d be flabbergasted.
Especially on Dazai’s part, no one has, and no one will ever see this side of ‘the demon prodigy’.
Chuuya stretched his legs out in front of him, brushing snow off his knees. “We’re gonna freeze to death if we stay out here.”
“Ah, but what a poetic way to go,” Dazai mused, tilting his head back to let a snowflake land on his tongue. “Two sworn rivals, forever preserved in snow and ice.”
Chuuya gave him a flat look. “You’ve got issues.”
“I know,” Dazai shot back, grinning.
“Shut up.”
For a while, they sat in silence again. The city below sparkled with holiday lights, their glow reflecting off the freshly fallen snow. The rooftop, once a battleground of snowballs and insults, had settled into a kind of truce—a rare and fragile thing between them.
The snow fell heavier now, each flake illuminated by the city lights below. The silence between them was warm.
Chuuya couldn’t remember the last time they’d spent so much time together without bickering—or maybe it was the first time ever.
He turned the pocket watch over in his hands, the intricate engravings catching the faint glow from the city. It was absurdly thoughtful for Dazai. Too thoughtful. And somehow, that made it all the more unsettling.
“What’s on your mind?” The bandaged boy next to him asked, his voice softer than usual. He leaned back against the railing, his scarf fluttering faintly in the winter breeze.
Chuuya glanced at him, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean, ‘what’s on my mind’? You’re the one who gave me this weird, sentimental gift out of nowhere. Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
Dazai tilted his head, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just overthinking it. Can’t I just do something nice for you?”
“Tch. Doesn’t sound like you,” The red head muttered, looking away.
The wind picked up slightly, sending a shiver through him despite his coat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dazai shift closer, closing the gap between them just enough for Chuuya to feel the faint warmth radiating from him.
“I surprise even myself sometimes,” Dazai said quietly, his voice so close now that it sent a strange shiver down Chuuya’s spine.
The red head turned to face him fully, ready to fire back with some sharp retort, but the words caught in his throat. The other boy was looking at him—not with his usual smug grin or teasing glint in his eyes, but with something softer, something deeper. It was the kind of look that made Chuuya’s chest feel too tight, like he couldn’t quite catch his breath.
“What?” Chuuya asked, his voice quieter than he intended.
Dazai didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of Chuuya’s scarf, as though testing the waters. When the red head didn’t pull away, Dazai’s hand lingered, his touch featherlight.
“You’re always so sharp,” The bandaged boy murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. “Always so quick to put up your walls. But sometimes... I wonder what it would be like if you didn’t.”
Chuuya swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell are you talking about, Dazai?”
The other boy smiled faintly, but it was softer now, almost wistful. “Just wondering,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “Do you ever get tired of fighting me, Chuuya?”
Chuuya opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Dazai leaned in. Slowly, carefully, as if giving the other every chance to pull away.
But Chuuya didn’t.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though neither of them quite believed it was happening. Dazai’s lips were warm against Chuuya’s, a stark contrast to the biting cold of the night air.
For a moment, the red head froze, his mind racing. But then, instinct took over, and he leaned into the kiss, his hands gripping the lapels of Dazai’s coat as though anchoring himself.
It wasn’t like the fights they were so used to—wild, chaotic, full of fire. This was something entirely different. It was slow, deliberate, soft.
When they finally broke apart, the red head’s breath came in uneven gasps, his cheeks flushed from more than just the cold. The other boy stayed close, his forehead resting lightly against Chuuya’s, his breath visible in the frosty air between them.
“That,” Dazai murmured, his voice low and almost teasing, “was long overdue.”
Chuuya huffed, though there was no real heat behind it. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here you are,” The boy replied with a grin, his tone lighter now. But the softness in his eyes didn’t fade. “Even letting me kiss you...”
Chuuya didn’t reply. Instead, he took off the scarf he was wearing off and tugged it around Dazai’s neck, as though it were an excuse to stay close.
“Won’t you catch a cold like that?” The bandaged boy asked him quietly, though not rejecting the guesture.
“I’ll be fine dumbass, I’m more worried about you, you’re not even wearing anything remotely warm enough to be sitting in the snow for hours...”
“Don’t think this changes anything,” The red head muttered, his voice quieter than before.
“Of course not,” Dazai said, his grin widening. “You’ll still yell at me tomorrow, won’t you?”
The red head smirked faintly. “Damn right I will.”
“Hey, Chuuya,”
Here comes Dazai with another weird and or annoying question... does he have to ruin the moment like that every time?
“What now?”
“Do you ever think about what it would be like if things were... different?”
Chuuya frowned, not sure where Dazai was going with this. “Different how?”
Dazai didn’t answer right away. He toyed with a stray thread on his coat, his gaze distant. “I don’t know. Maybe if we weren’t always fighting...”
The question caught the red head off guard. He turned to look at Dazai, searching his face for the usual smirk or teasing glint in his eyes—but there was none.
“Tch. That’s a weird thing for you to say,” Chuuya muttered, looking away. “Once or twice, I guess...”
Dazai raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh? Care to elaborate?” The boy’s smug tone back.
“Not really,” Chuuya said quickly, pulling his scarf tighter. “It’s not like it matters, anyway. This is just how things are.”
“True,” The other agreed, leaning back on his hands. “But it’s still nice to think about, isn’t it? No organizations, no schemes, no endless bickering. Just... us.”
Chuuya’s breath caught for a moment, but he quickly covered it with a scoff. “You’re getting way too sentimental. Is this your way of asking me to spend Christmas with you every year or something?”
Dazai laughed, his usual lightness returning. “Now that’s an idea. We could make it a tradition. You, me, and a rooftop full of snow.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Maybe. But admit it, you’re having fun.”
Teh red head didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his gaze wander over the snow-covered cityscape, his expression softening.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I guess I am.”
The words hung in the air between them, heavier than either of them expected. For once, Dazai didn’t pounce on Chuuya’s rare admission. Instead, he simply smiled—a small, genuine smile that Chuuya barely caught out of the corner of his eye.
“Hey,” Dazai said after a moment, his tone suddenly mischievous.
“What now?” Chuuya asked, already wary. “You’re asking way more questions than usual...”
The bandaged boy leaned in closer, his grin widening. “You’ve got snow in your hair.”
Before the red head could react, Dazai reached out and brushed a few stray flakes from Chuuya’s hair. His fingers lingered just a second too long, and when Chuuya finally swatted his hand away, his face was noticeably pink.
“Hands off, idiot!” The red head snapped, crossing his arms.
“Aw, don’t be shy,” The other teased. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”
Chuuya growled, his fists clenching. “You’re really asking for it tonight, huh?”
Dazai laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. For now.”
The silence that followed was warmer than before, though neither of them would admit it out loud. The snow continued to fall, wrapping the rooftop in a quiet, sparkling blanket.
As the minutes ticked by, the red head found himself relaxing again. He leaned back against Dazai’s shoulder, letting out a long breath.
“Hey Osamu,” he said after a while, his voice unusually soft.
“Hm?”
“Merry Christmas.”
The bandaged boy turned to look at him, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a gentle smile, leaning against the smaller boy and vice versa.
“Merry Christmas, Chibi.”
And for once, there were no insults, no bickering, and no chaos. Just two people sitting side by side on a snowy rooftop, sharing a moment that neither of them would soon forget.