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There’s a new florist shop in town.
Dazai honestly wouldn’t have known if Yosano didn’t tell him. Truth be told, Dazai’s not always an absentminded person. But he hasn’t been around for this one case and he’s literally just returned home yesterday. Also, it’s that time of the year, and as today approaches, the more it feels like it’s not really him who drags his feet around to perform his responsibilities lest he rot in bed surrounded by empty alcohol bottles.
He should’ve been able to notice the shop, though, Yosano insists, because it’s in the same building their office is in. It’s literally below them, she says, so Dazai must’ve walked past it before he can get to the stairs that will get him to their workplace. Dazai tells her he didn’t get his coffee this morning so he’s a bit out of it, and Yosano leaves it at that.
Everyone at the Fukuzawa Detective Agency vaguely knows what day it is today, so they all noticeably tended to go easy on Dazai for the past week. He might always be hiding his real emotions behind those eyes, but when Oda’s death anniversary approaches, the light in his eyes practically fades, leaving nothing but lifeless brown orbs in their place. So, when it’s this Dazai who came in to work in the morning, the FDA members know not to place too much workload on his desk.
Once noon arrives, Dazai gathers his stuff (his phone and his trench coat), and tosses a simple “See you tomorrow,” behind his back to announce his departure. Halfway down the stairs, he hears Atsushi calling for him. He stops.
“Are you free tonight, Dazai-san? We’re all going to Ranpo-san’s house for a movie watchalong. Would you like to join us?”
Atsushi is such an earnest boy, always looking out for everyone around him. Dazai doesn’t feel any sort of sympathy from him, and for that Dazai has always had some sort of fondness towards the younger.
“Sorry Atsushi-kun, but I will have to pass. Maybe next time, yeah?”
The grin on his face doesn’t reach his eyes, but Atsushi smiles back at him regardless and wishes him a safe journey.
Finally stepping outside, Dazai expected for the harsh rays of sun to greet him blindingly, but there’s none of that. It’s a sombre afternoon with only dark murky clouds hanging on the sky, forewarning of a heavy rain that’s definitely about to come. He should probably get a move soon if he doesn’t want to get drenched from head to toe.
One, two steps, then he finally notices the flower shop. “Golden Snow” isn’t a common name for a shop that sells flowers, and it doesn’t sound very flower-y, but it looks like any other flower shop you can find around Yokohama. Might as well get some flowers for Oda here, Dazai hums to himself.
Dazai walks up to the shop and pushes the door open. The little bells that dangle above the door jingle as he enters, and Dazai takes in the full interior of the shop. There are all kinds of flowers, as you might expect from a flower shop, yeah. Rows of flowers fill the sides of the shop, with another row in the middle, separating the shop into two aisles.
The counter seems to be at the back so Dazai walks past the rows of colourful fragrant flowers to look for the florist. On the way there he notices there are cacti too, and Dazai can’t help but poke at one of the little ones with his finger.
“May I help you, sir?”
Dazai hides his hand behind his back as he turns around at the voice. Meeting the eyes of the florist, Dazai’s brown ones slightly widen in recognition.
“Kouyou-neesan?”
The pretty lady looks at him warily, before she, too, finally recognizes who he is. “Dazai? It’s been awhile – four years, wasn’t it?”
Dazai nods, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. They’re shaking a bit, must be because of the memories fighting to resurface at the sight of a long forgotten face.
“Have you been well, boy?”
Dazai tries a smile, “I’m taller than you now, Ane-san. I’m not a boy anymore,”
Kouyou sighs, and then she makes a remark about how the kids around her are growing up so quick, too quick for their age. “What brings you here, Dazai?”
Ah yes, he’s here to get flowers for Oda. “Well, I–”
The bells at the door jingles again. For some reason the nerves in his body freezes up without knowing who it is, because he would’ve turned around to acknowledge the person immediately if not for that. And then comes another very familiar voice, and Dazai thanks the Gods above that he has his back facing the door still.
“Ane-san, I’ve brought the foams. Should I put them in the storage room for now?”
Dazai almost needs to remind himself to breathe. The other seems to still haven’t noticed who he is yet, two boxes carried in his arms blocking some of his vision as he walks past Kouyou to store the stuff somewhere at the back of the shop. Dazai’s eyes follow the firm back until the person disappears out of his vision.
Kouyou snaps her fingers to bring his attention back to her, a knowing look in her eyes. “You were saying?”
“Oh,” Dazai is torn between running away or standing his ground. “Was that–?”
“Chuuya!” Dazai’s eyes widen comically as Kouyou suddenly calls out the name that has been haunting him for years. Does she hate him? She does, doesn’t she?
Chuuya might have replied from wherever he is, because Kouyou continues to make Dazai’s life more miserable than it already is, “Can you come here and help this customer? I need to go get Kyoka from school,” She says this as she stares straight into Dazai’s eyes with a smile.
“Sure! I’ll be there in a bit!”
Dazai raises a finger to say something, maybe. Anything. But the words stay clogged up in his throat. Kouyou bids him a farewell and a see you again soon before leaving him behind with a smile on her face.
That wicked woman. She’s still up to no good like back then.
Dazai is close to saying fuck it and just leave while he still can, but a familiar ginger head suddenly emerges from the back door, and brown eyes tremble as they meet the blue eyes that occasionally but consistently appear in his dreams for the past four years.
“Oh,”
‘Oh’ is right. Dazai watches wordlessly as Chuuya smacks his forehead lightly with his hand as he mutters something under his breath, the other hand perched on his hip. He’s wearing cargo pants with a maroon tank top, and Dazai gulps at the sight of tattoos slithering along the exposed expanse of his skin. There’s a snake coiling around his arms with flowers scattered here and there. Dazai longs to have his fingers trace each and every one of them.
“What do you want,”
Dazai’s brought back to the current situation he’s in. Chuuya’s asking what he wants? Right now? He doesn’t even know where to start. He’s been trying to bury memories of ginger hair and blue eyes for years now, and all of a sudden the object of his past obsession is served to him on a silver platter?
“Chuuya, I–”
“We have all kinds of flowers here, sir. Just let me know what kind of occasion or vibe you’re going for and I’ll be able to assist you,”
Oh. Chuuya’s looking at him but it’s like he’s not really looking at him. Dazai swallows an inexistent lump in his throat. “I.. I’m visiting a friend’s grave,”
“I see. I think yellow zinnias would be appropriate. Would you like to have a look first, sir–”
“No, it’s alright. I’ll go with those,” because Dazai trusts Chuuya, he still does, ”Give me a small bouquet please,”
Dazai stands near the counter as Chuuya works his wonders. Deft fingers move around the stems, cutting the unnecessary parts before arranging the flowers neatly to be tied together as he wraps them in a simple wrapping paper.
After the bouquet is nicely done, he holds it out for Dazai to take. Dazai notices how Chuuya immediately lets go once their fingers make contact during the exchange, and he internally screams at the obvious reluctance on Chuuya’s side to even stay in his presence for longer than necessary.
Dazai’s ears would’ve physically drooped down if he was a dog, and they would’ve perked up immediately afterwards because Chuuya suddenly speaks up, “Zinnias carry the meaning of endurance and affection. Yellow ones particularly, are used to symbolize remembrance and represent lasting memories,”
“Oh. Thanks?”
Chuuya glares at him, in his eyes a familiar look Dazai used to be accustomed with whenever he was successfully able to rile the ginger up. It disappears in a flash though when Chuuya averts his eyes to the cash machine, pressing on the buttons to input the price for Dazai’s purchase.
“I was explaining to you because it’s my job, and you should know what you’re getting. What if you get scammed? You shouldn’t trust anyone so blindly,”
“How could I not? It’s Chuuya,”
His mouth was faster than his brain, because immediately after uttering those words, Dazai bites his own tongue. Fuck.
Chuuya only ignores him though, and Dazai isn’t sure if he’s thankful for that or not. Some sort of reaction might have been nice, maybe. The only thing he does is look at Dazai pointedly for a second before he says the price of the bouquet.
Dazai pays the amount, and he stays there standing like a fool as Chuuya inserts the cash into the machine.
“So. It’s been awhile,”
“Pardon me, sir, but do I know you?”
Dazai flinches. He did leave without a word back then, so why would he think Chuuya would happily run into his arms if they ever meet again? Chuuya might have grown to hate him more than before, even. Dazai knows that’s logically possible.
But he also knows Chuuya. And Chuuya wouldn’t entertain him at all if hatred is truly the only thing that remains in his heart for Dazai.
“We’re not kids anymore. Isn’t it too childish to pretend that we don’t know each other? Especially when Chuuya can’t even look at me properly,”
The glare is back on him, and Dazai might’ve felt the best he’s felt throughout the whole week.
“You’ve got what you need, right? Let’s just go back to when we don’t even know if either of us is alive anymore,”
He backs away from the counter and bows slightly, back to his customer service voice. “Thank you for your patronage,” Dazai notices how Chuuya omits the ‘Please come again,’ but says nothing as he watches the ginger disappear again through the back door.
Dazai smiles to himself as he finally proceeds to leave the establishment.
“Hey, Odasaku. Sorry if I’m later than usual,” Dazai bends down to place the flowers by the tombstone, “I brought you flowers, aren’t they pretty? They’re yellow zinnias, I think. Chuuya said they symbolize remembrance and lasting memories,”
Dazai sits down on the grass before he continues talking. “I know I mention Chuuya every year, but this time it’s different. We finally met again.” He lets out a sad chuckle, “Is this fate’s work? Were we actually doomed to be in each other’s lives for eternity?”
He stares at the stone, a sad smile on his face, “I have no idea how to proceed from here. I can respect his wishes and leave him be, but I forgot to let him know that I literally work at the office on the upper floors,” he pauses, thinking to himself, “Yes, that doesn’t mean we’ll meet a lot, but dropping by now and then to show him my face to ruin his day sounds like music to my ears right now,”
If Odasaku was still here, he might’ve shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all. “You know I miss him. But he doesn’t. Still, maybe I should let him know,”
Dazai knows he’s a selfish man. And he selfishly wants more than a glare and a fake smile directed at him by that pretty face. Chuuya has always been pretty, even more so now. His face wasn’t the thing that drew Dazai in first, though – it was his strength.
If not, Dazai wouldn’t have tricked him into joining the gang back then.
The gang. Oda.
Oda definitely was an enigma. No one really knew why someone like him was in the gang. Naturally, Dazai couldn’t help but get attached to him like a moth to a flame.
The moth would circle around the intriguing bright warmth, wondering if there might be a day where it’ll get bigger and bigger and finally burn the moth’s wings. But then one day the flame extinguishes, and the moth forgot how to fly again, even with its wings unharmed.
He was like a big brother Dazai could have had if he was born in a more fortunate family. It might sound bafflingly childish and simple, but having him, Ango and Chuuya back then did allow him to feel some sort of a semblance of life. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long till that fateful night happened.
It wasn’t unlike any other night, but what started as just another gang fight ended with Dazai’s frail shivering hands trying his best to keep pressing and applying pressure onto Oda’s bullet wound.
Flashes of red still haunt Dazai on most nights, especially as Oda’s death anniversary comes near. It wasn’t as bad as before, of course. Dazai couldn’t sleep for days after that night. And then the next thing he knew, he was already leaving Yokohama. Where to? Nobody knew.
Dazai might have wanted to tell Chuuya at least. But the ginger left for a trip with his friends a day before the night happened. Dazai might’ve felt hurt because of that. Maybe.
“That wasn’t fun. Reminiscing about those days will never be easy, I guess,”
Dazai stretches. It’s getting late. What’s left of the previously gloomy sky are dark oranges and emerging purples. Surprisingly, it didn’t rain at all despite the ever dark clouds. Dazai gets to his feet, patting his butt to remove some of the dirt from sitting on the ground.
“I’m sorry if I bore you again today. I’ll try to come by more often,”
He pats the tombstone twice, before finally taking his leave.
Dazai thinks today might be a worse start compared to yesterday. When he woke up the day before, he only felt like killing himself – normal occurrence, really. Today, though? Dazai feels like killing whoever is making all these noises.
It’s Saturday, everyone knows you’re legally obligated to wake up at least after 10 in the morning. But of course suddenly Dazai isn’t allowed to do that. He reaches for his phone and groggily blinks, checking the time. It’s 8 AM.
Dazai’s killing someone today.
He drags his body out of bed with a groan, and then he blindly picks the first shirt he can reach from the floor and wears it. Walking to the door, his head throbs at every sound of heavy boxes being dropped and dragged coming from the outside.
Dazai pulls his door open, but only big enough to let his head through so he can discreetly assess the situation. As expected, there are boxes and bags arranged on top of one another in front of the only other house on this floor. This building is pretty pricey despite the neighborhood it’s located in, and on every floor there are only two units available.
Dazai doesn’t remember having a neighbor since the day he moved in, but it seems like that’s going to change today. He wonders what kind of a sociopath he would be living next to. Like, seriously? Who moves into a new house this early on a weekend?
His question is answered when the door opposite his opens up and a very familiar ginger head emerges. The boxes are stacked so tall that Dazai can only see from his nose upwards, but there’s no doubt that it’s his one and only short stack.
It took the ginger a moment to finally notice the presence on the other side of the boxes, and when he sees who it is standing in front of the opened door, creases form between his eyebrows as he visibly blanches. Not like Dazai can see his whole face, though. Heh.
“You must be kidding me,”
“Of course. Who else would be making so much noise on such a fine Saturday morning, if not Nakahara Chuuya?”
“Why are you here. Don’t tell me.” Chuuya looks around. There’s only one other door on this floor – it’s left ajar and Dazai’s standing in front of it. There’s only one conclusion to this and it’s not what Chuuya would like.
Dazai smirks, “What? That Chuuya’s so lucky to have such a handsome neighbour living next to him?”
Chuuya groans aloud, squatting down as he holds his head in his hands. Dazai hears him repeatedly saying under his breath, “This can’t be happening to me,”
“Of all places to rent, you really just happen to pick the advertised unit next to mine. Is this the universe’s way of saying that we’re both indelibly fated to–”
“I can’t accept this. You need to leave,”
Dazai raises an eyebrow, a bit miffed that the ginger would even say that. Even he knows that’s an absurd request(?) to make towards someone. “If you hadn’t noticed yet, I was here first, like, a year earlier than you,”
“It’s so hard to find a nice apartment that’s close to the shop, so I can’t give this unit up. But I can’t possibly live next to you though,” Chuuya’s back to his feet now, and he’s now standing where the boxes aren’t blocking his body so Dazai can relish in the sight of the ginger in a yellow crop top hoodie and striped flare pants. Chuuya looks so good after all these years, Dazai’s feeling very weak in the knees.
“Why not?” He blurts out provokingly, and Chuuya looks at him in disbelief.
“If you hate being my neighbour so much, then you can be my guest and leave. I don’t remember the Chuuya I know to run with his tails between his legs, though–”
“That Chuuya died in the car crash. Not like you’d know about that,”
Oh. Dazai didn’t mean to route the conversation to this topic. He gulps, genuinely feeling bad even though it was never in his intentions.
“Look, I’m not in the right mindset to spend another second seeing your face, so I’ll be bringing my stuff inside. Who cares if you live here too. Whatever. Fuck my life, I guess,”
“So Chuuya’s not leaving?”
Chuuya’s already lifting some boxes from the floor to be carried inside, ignoring Dazai.
“Would you like my help with the boxes?”
A blank stare. “Hello, new neighbour. Sorry for the noise, but I’ll be done with my stuff in a moment. You may return to your house now,” and just like that, Dazai got stranger-zoned for the second time this week.
He proceeds to stand there, though, watching Chuuya carry the boxes effortlessly for a few more rounds before he finally gets bored (and sulky) enough to go back home. Laying leisurely on his bed, he replays the interaction they just had in his head.
The car crash.
Chuuya thought Dazai didn’t know because he was already gone when it happened. But it did reach his ears.
“A van of students hit by drunk driver on way home from trip”. It was reported that the car caught fire right after the crash, resulting in the flames spreading to the van as well. Five of the students and the drunk driver who caused the accident unfortunately died before the ambulance could arrive. Only one of the students survived with second-degree burns following the crash.
Dazai hated that he was happy knowing it was Chuuya alone who survived. He hated that he felt that it was fair that they both lost their anchor, their treasured people who made every morning a little easier to wake up to.
It might have been guilt over these kinds of thoughts that stopped Dazai from trying to find Chuuya again once he’s back in Yokohama. Working at the private detective agency means having the means to search for Chuuya’s whereabouts, and oh the voices were tempting him in his every waking moment to misuse them for his own benefits, but Dazai still felt like he shouldn’t. Like it’s not right, and not right now. Not now when he still needs to try having more than a whole month past since the last time he’d leave his arms bloody past 1AM.
Dazai insisted that he detest pain. So he felt like he should be able to stay true to those words – to stay away from what he hates so he can actually care for what he loves.
Now, Dazai is slightly better than back then. And now, Chuuya has stumbled into his path of life again like the first time they met. And Dazai is a selfish man. One look at him surrounded by flowers and tattoos had Dazai feeling like a lost traveller who’s finally discovered an oasis after years of wandering through a desert. He craves, and he yearns, even when he’s barely just been granted with the sight of the other.
But then Chuuya gave him the stranger treatment and Dazai feels like this isn’t how this should’ve gone.
Chuuya should’ve beat him up, scolded him for leaving so suddenly, for not calling, for not reconnecting with him again. That would’ve been easier for Dazai – he’d let Chuuya have his way with him and then he would’ve embraced the ginger in his arms. Even if he tried to escape, Dazai wouldn't have let him go until he was satisfied.
But clearly that’s not what he deserved. So Chuuya’s rightfully giving him the cold shoulder.
Dazai’s not going to give up though. Not in this life.
Come Monday, Dazai finds himself waking up earlier than he always does. He dresses up as usual, puts on his trench coat and sits on the bed with his leg crossed on top of the other. It’s barely 6 AM, but Dazai’s been nervous since the night before, so he tries to calm his nerves by scrolling through his phone to pass the time as he waits.
What’s he waiting for? Simple.
Around a quarter before 7, his ears perk up at the sound of a door being opened and then slammed not so loudly shut. He runs to his own door, puts on his shoes in a hurry and makes it to the elevator before the doors are able to close.
Chuuya spares him a glance, but averts his eyes elsewhere once Dazai enters the elevator, slightly panting.
“Why the hell are you in such a rush,”
“Why? Does Chuuya not like seeing me breathless?”
Chuuya ignores him afterwards, getting the hint that he wouldn’t get a decent answer from this bastard anyways, but not really asking himself why he even bothered initiating a conversation in the first place. Dazai wonders if he should’ve answered with something cheesy like “The sight of you got me breathless,” or something. Maybe then Chuuya would overreact like he used to. Dazai misses that.
They both step out of the building – Chuuya first then Dazai, and after a while Chuuya starts to notice that Dazai’s suddenly walking next to him, and that’s weird.
“Why are you walking with me?”
“Why? Is it against the law?”
Chuuya grits his teeth and walks a tad bit faster. Dazai’s longer legs easily keep up with him and they’re back to walking side by side. Once they’re finally in front of Golden Snow, though, Chuuya stops. Dazai also wordlessly does so, but then he finds himself being grabbed at the collar by a very triggered Chuuya.
The ginger pulls him slightly down to his level, and this might be the closest he’s gotten to be near Chuuya. Dazai almost smiles in glee.
“What are you playing at, huh?! How far are you taking this?”
Dazai’s eyes twinkle. Ah, this is so delightful. He really does miss Chuuya a lot. He reaches for the hand grabbing his collar and holds it in his, squeezing once as his thumb grazes against Chuuya’s skin.
“Chuuya,” He starts, “I work upstairs,”
The ginger furrows his eyebrows, mouth gaping in shock as he processes the new information. The grip he has on Dazai’s collar is getting looser by the second but Dazai keeps his hold on Chuuya’s hand so it still stays where it is..
“You’re joking,”
“I know, I know. It’s too scary to be another coincidence. But it really does seem like you and I are destined to–”
Dazai’s speech gets interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, and both he and the ginger turn to their side and find Atsushi standing awkwardly next to Kunikida. Chuuya immediately retrieves his hand from Dazai’s collar (and from Dazai’s hold, but why was he holding Chuuya’s hand again?).
The brunette is not ashamed to admit that he almost chased after the other’s touch again. Kunikida was the one who interrupted them, of course. Dazai almost rolls his eyes.
“Is this guy bothering you, Nakahara-san?”
Chuuya glances briefly towards Dazai’s direction before addressing the situation to Kunikida, “Yes, but I can handle him just fine. I’ll be going in first, so please excuse me. Have a great day ahead, everyone,” Chuuya opens the shop with his keys and enters without paying any more attention to Dazai who’s eagerly looking at the ginger the whole time.
Even though he was ignored the whole time, there is a smile stretching Dazai’s lips as he watches Chuuya’s back disappear further into the shop.
“Are you two close acquaintances, Dazai-san?”
Dazai smiles at Atsushi, “You could say so. Did it look like we’re pretty close to you?”
“It looked like he can barely stand being in your presence, honestly,”
Kunikida says it matter-of-factly that Dazai doesn’t know if he should feel offended. But Dazai can’t argue with that, really. So he just talks about how he and Chuuya studied in the same high school and even if the two seemed to be curious enough to know more, they didn’t ask any further questions. They all get to the office afterwards, Dazai leaving one final glance towards the shop before he catches up to the others.
Dazai finds Chuuya smoking outside his balcony one day. He doesn’t really go out to his own balcony that much, but one day he hears a familiar voice talking from where he’s loitering in the living room, and it sounds like it’s coming from the outside. He’s reminded of the fact that the balconies for the houses on every level are literally next to each other, with just a small gap in between the side railings.
He peeks his head through his curtain and there Chuuya is. He seems to be in a relaxed posture, hips slightly jutting out backwards as he rests his elbow on the railings. A lit cigarette is held between his fore and middle fingers, away from his face as he’s talking to someone on the phone. From what Dazai is able to hear from where he is, it’s most probably Kouyou on the other side. He hasn’t noticed Dazai yet, so he sneakily takes this chance to ogle at Chuuya.
The ginger’s wearing a white pair of shorts that reach above his knees, paired with a simple red tank top. The lean muscles on his arm seem to be calling for Dazai’s attention every time Chuuya takes a drag of the cigarette and then puts it away out of his face. His tattoos seem prettier every time Dazai’s able to catch a glimpse of them, which is unfortunately not enough times, and he wonders if the slithering snake on his arm does go down his back as well.
Chuuya might have been feeling eyes on him, because he finally takes notice of Dazai’s shameless gaze on him. He sputters on the phone, before excusing himself to Kouyou, “Ah– Ane-san, I think I’ll call you later about that. Yeah, yeah. Okay. Bye,” He pockets his phone after ending the call and turns his head to the side, facing the brunette unhurriedly.
“Enjoying what you were seeing?”
Dazai walks out fully then, clad in his matching grey sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair messy as if he had just woken up. “I definitely am,” He stretches his body until his back muscles are pulled taut, popping sounds coming out of his over-rested bones. His shirt hikes up at the movement, and he smirks when he catches Chuuya stealing a peek at his exposed skin.
Chuuya doesn’t notice he’s been caught, but he’s probably ashamed of himself as he takes a long drag from his cig and blows it out in a long puff of smoke. Dazai almost makes a face when the smell hits his nose. He’s never been a huge fan of smokers, personally.
Young Dazai hated it when any of the seniors in the gang started lighting up their cigarettes and would immediately leave to bury his face in Chuuya’s neck. “Chibi smells nicer than those awful tobacco sticks eughhh,”
Chuuya would push him away at first, but eventually give up because Dazai’s grip was weirdly strong and it seemed like too much of a hassle to use extra energy on him. Or maybe because Chuuya knew how much he hated the smell of cigarette smoke, but Dazai never got to confirm this fact with him.
“So you picked up smoking, huh?”
Chuuya side-eyes him, before looking back to the front. “I’ve stopped for a while. I wonder what’s stressing me out these days that I’m resorting to this again,”
“I wonder, indeed!” Dazai knows he’s not that good of a person, because something inside him lights up when it’s clear that he still has that much effect on the ginger, even if it’s a bad one. “But Chuuya! Do you really have to smoke here?”
Chuuya grits his teeth, “This is my house, if you haven’t noticed yet. If me smoking bothers you that much, just go back inside!”
Dazai whines a little bit more after that, calling Chuuya evil and asking if all short people are this cruel because they’re short. Chuuya rolls his eyes back at him, “That’s the only insult you know, right? Imagine being this shitty at being creative,”
Dazai gasps at that, clearly offended. The banter goes on for a while, with neither side wanting to be the bigger person to put an end to it. It’s unclear though, if Dazai actually did notice how Chuuya has long since stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the balcony railing in front of him.
One morning when they’re on their way to work, it starts pouring out of nowhere. Dazai grabs a hold on Chuuya’s arm and pulls him to take cover from the rain at the nearest building with a roof that he can find. Once they’re safe from getting wet, Chuuya pulls his arm away from Dazai’s firm warm grip, dissatisfaction clear on his face.
“Don’t just pull people around as you like, bastard,”
“Oh. Chuuya would rather get drenched, then? You should be thanking–” Dazai probably wants to say more, but he stops himself at the sudden realization that he might’ve gripped too hard, and might have caused pain for the other. Dazai’s seen his arms enough these days to notice that the tattoos are mostly to cover up the burn scars on his arms. Do the scars still hurt when touched?
Chuuya has burn scars from when he got in a car accident with the rest of the Flags, Dazai’s scars are self-inflicted, and will never be as beautiful as Chuuya’s are.
Dazai must have been silent for a bit too long because the look of anger on Chuuya’s face has completely melted away, replaced with a questioning look instead.
“Hey, what’s up with you,”
“..sorry. Did it hurt?”
Chuuya furrows his brows, but then he gets what Dazai’s referring to. “Not really,” There is a pregnant pause before he continues, “As I was saying, it’s common sense to know that you shouldn’t be dragging people like that. Humans aren’t like, dolls, you know,”
Dazai lets out a chuckle, “Of course, Chuuya’s prettier than a doll anyway,” He reaches out for Chuuya’s hand and holds it gently, “Next time, I’ll pull you by the hand. Is that acceptable?”
He sees the pink spreading across Chuuya’s cheeks before he’s suddenly pushed away hard, stumbling back a few feet to the spot that’s not covered by the roof. Half his body gets drenched by the rain, and he yelps. “Hey! Not fair!”
“You asked for it! Shitty Dazai!”
A grin appears on Dazai’s face at the familiar name-calling. Even Chuuya seems to realize the slip-up he just did, if the way his eyes are as wide as saucers is anything to go by.
“Oh my, did my dog finally return to his master?”
“Eat shit, Dazai!”
Chuuya surges forward to push him again, but Dazai knows better now. He immediately grips on the ginger’s blue hoodie, strong enough to pull Chuuya along with him. They both end up getting rained on as they stumble outwards together. They start scuffling like they were teenagers again – pushing and pulling on each other’s clothes, stepping on puddles and getting both of them wet.
When Kouyou sees the miserable, disheveled state Chuuya’s in by the time he finally arrives at the shop, she immediately stops him in his tracks and tells him to not step any further into the shop. She gives him some towel to dry himself up and roughly dry his wet hair herself.
“Didn’t you bring your umbrella? Why are you this wet?”
Yes, he did bring his umbrella. It’s safe inside his sling bag – clean and dry. Chuuya can’t bring himself to answer truthfully, so he just makes up an excuse about the wind being too strong that he lost grip of his umbrella halfway through.
There’s a bakery across the street from the building they live in. They sell some good bread and pastries, and the old man who mans the counter smiles at Chuuya like he’s the ideal son-in-law for a child he never had.
He starts going there the first weekend he moves in, and sometimes on his way to work he’d drop by (with a certain devious freak in tow, of course).
“Chuuya likes the sweet ones, no? Why are you not taking this one?” Dazai knocks on the glass softly with his pointing finger, and behind it is a pastry with cream and blueberry sauce that looks like it’d taste so heavenly once the combination of flavor melts in your mouth.
Chuuya considers for a second, before shaking his head. “Some of us are monitoring our sugar intake, you know. Don’t wanna end up with a flabby stomach,” He mutters his answer, not really paying attention or directly looking at Dazai as he continues to pick other pastries for Kouyou and Kyouka. Maybe Kyouka would enjoy that sweet one.
“What’s wrong with having a little tummy? That’d be cute,” Dazai absentmindedly reaches below Chuuya’s arm to pinch his stomach. Then, he continues to emphasize his point, “Look, how can I bite on this,”
Chuuya almost drops the tray of pastries he’s holding. Maybe it’s because the ginger’s suddenly gone quiet that Dazai finally looks at Chuuya’s face and realizes what he just uttered out loud.
“Oops. That must’ve gotten out of my head somehow,”
He has a lopsided smile on his face, but Chuuya knows he didn’t mean to say those words out loud, so he’s actually embarrassed. Is Chuuya weirded out by whatever he just said? He doesn’t know, but he does feel weirdly tingly inside. That’s probably the tingles of disgust.
Chuuya only mutters a line of sentence that may have ‘stupid’ and ‘simpleton’ under his breath, and proceeds to swat Dazai’s hand away. He beelines to the counter and greets the old man as usual as the elder rings Chuuya up.
Once they finally walk out of the bakery, Dazai pulls on the back of Chuuya’s shirt to bring his attention back to him. “What?”
“I’d still bite on your stomach even without the flab, if you let me,”
“Why the hell would I let you do that, you bastard!”
If Chuuya were to be completely honest, he might’ve gotten used to Dazai’s presence again. There are times when he’s not being infuriating, so it’s pretty easy to tolerate him, actually. Also, it’s not like Dazai’s changed that much from before (minus the height, of course, because why the hell does Chuuya need to look up that high to glare at the bastard).
He did actually consider Dazai a friend when they were younger, and not just this weirdly clingy bug who enjoys watching Chuuya explode at his provocations. He didn’t welcome Dazai’s return to his life at first, but now..
Hmm. Chuuya’s not so sure anymore.
“You haven’t been taking your bike to work recently,”
Chuuya glances upwards, averting his blue orbs away from the arrangement he’s currently working on, and straight into Kouyou’s probing eyes. “Ah,” Chuuya isn’t sure why his throat got a bit dried up all of a sudden. “My house is quite the walking distance from here. Plus, you also have the parking spot all to yourself, so isn’t that convenient, Ane-san?”
Kouyou nods, acknowledging his every word. She picks a leaf that Chuuya cut off from one of the stems and plays with it in between her fingers, not with any particular purpose. “You’ve gotten accustomed to coming to work with Dazai every day, it seems?”
At the mention of that name, Chuuya’s hands feel weak for some reason. Then comes a sudden prickling pain on his finger. He’s scratched himself by the rose’s thorn, what a careless mistake to make. Kouyou clicks her tongue, shaking her head before getting up to go retrieve the first aid kid and bring it back to the table. She gestures for Chuuya to let her clean the wound for him, and Chuuya gives her his hand wordlessly.
“So? Dazai, huh?”
Chuuya almost groans, but he doesn’t want to be too obvious in front of her. Which is useless for him to even try, anyway. He’s been adopted by Kouyou’s family since he was seven, they’re practically siblings. Of course Kouyou would know him like the back of her hand by now.
Usually, at the end of the day he can do nothing but truthfully answer each and every one of her questions like an obedient little brother. “I don’t want to talk about it,”
“Oh? But spending your mornings walking with him side by side is something you want then?”
“Nee-san, I told you. He’s my neighbor. Unfortunately. He has to clock in at the same time I open up the shop so he’s been tagging along. Unfortunately. I tried leaving him but he seems to always leave his house at the same time I do every day,”
Kouyou daps the small wound with antiseptic and then applies a plaster on it. They only have the cute ones because she bought it for Kyouka last time, so now Chuuya has a bear-patterned plaster on his thumb.
“You tried? Really? If you were to take your bike to work then you would’ve been able to leave him easily, no?”
Chuuya is rendered speechless at that, and Kouyou sighs seeing the younger so in denial with himself like that. She pats his head with a smile on her face as she gets up, before leaving to man the counter. After he’s all alone, Chuuya lightly kicks the leg of the table.
He didn’t need to hear that from Kouyou, actually. Of course who else but him would know that he hasn’t been trying that hard to push away Dazai’s attempts at re-inserting himself back into Chuuya’s life. The other man has made it as clear as day that he’s not going to put their past together behind him.
Even though Dazai was the one who left everything behind. The one who made it impossible to see neither hide nor hair of him for years. Now he’s acting like he could just pick up the broken pieces that he threw away himself. Dazai has always been selfish, has always known what he wants and how to get it for himself.
He saw something in Chuuya and wanted him to join the gang, and Chuuya did, even if Dazai played dirty to convince him. But despite everything, Chuuya was the one who made that decision, because he also saw something in Dazai. Something he couldn’t ignore, something he couldn’t leave alone.
But then Oda Sakunosuke passed away. Chuuya wondered if he was there to provide a shoulder for Dazai to cry on, would he have stayed? Would they remain as friends? Would the accident still happen if Chuuya wasn’t in the car?
Maybe then Chuuya wouldn’t have had to keep on living with the burn scars on his body to remind him every night that it should’ve been them, and not him. They could’ve done so much more if they had lived, but it was only Chuuya who opened his eyes in the ward.
Chuuya doesn’t blame Dazai for running away. He’s sure that was for his own good, and he might’ve done the same thing if he were in the brunette’s shoes. The Dazai he’s recently met again does look like he’s faring well – better than he was when they were teens anyway. The bandages are still there, but at least his face is void of bruises and cuts, and the brown in his eyes are lighter and brighter.
It would’ve been nice if he had said some goodbyes before he left, though. Or at least leave Chuuya a note or something, instead of having him ask around like a madman for Dazai’s whereabouts as soon as the ginger heard about what happened during the fight.
Accepting his reasons for leaving does not mean Chuuya doesn’t get to feel hurt, though. Just like how he figured that Dazai might’ve needed him, he needed Dazai too back then.
It sucked – how everything went down, but there’s no point in wishing to change how the past ended up. In another world, things might have turned out differently, but this is the current reality they’re living in. The reality is that they fell off with zero to no communication, both bearing scars from their past of losing the people they care about, and now they’ve inexplicably stumbled into each other again.
Chuuya was initially against rekindling their dead friendship. He’s been doing fine on his own for all these years, and he definitely does not need such a rage-inducing presence in his life once again. But then there was Dazai and his persistence, and whatever it is about him that makes Chuuya say no, but lets him get away with everything every single time.
Because despite how many times he’d curse, roll his eyes or bark at the brunette, it was also Chuuya who chose to let his motorbike collect dust in the parking lot, the one who chose to walk on the side next to the road, the one who’s taken to keeping an extra umbrella at the shop.
Speaking of the devil, the bell at the door jingles, and who else steps in with such an infuriating smile but Dazai Osamu.
Chuuya has been circulating these thoughts about the past in his head that time went by like a blur. He glances at the clock, and apparently it’s already a few minutes after closing time.
“What do you want?”
Dazai beams, and Chuuya thinks he should be looking anywhere else but at that mug of his. “Chuuya’s no longer treating me like a random customer! What an interesting development for the plot,”
Chuuya rolls his eyes hard. If he’s just here to annoy Chuuya then he should probably just ignore him as he usually does. But Dazai’s standing in front of him looking both nervous and excited, and the ginger can’t help but be a little bit wary.
“At this point you’re definitely not just a random customer. For real, though. Why are you here, Dazai?”
Chuuya swears Dazai has his ears perked up as if Chuuya just called him a good boy or something. He used to be like this too whenever Chuuya decided to acknowledge him, or when he gave the brunette his sole attention back then. Always so easy to please, really.
Wait, what.
“This is a flower shop, no? Of course I’m here to buy flowers, duh,”
He’s got to be kidding, “It’s five minutes past closing time,”
“Don’t I get neighbor benefits? We’re house and work neighbors, that must count for something,”
Chuuya wishes Kouyou was here but she left early for her plans with Yosano. She would’ve been able to give Dazai her piece of mind. Chuuya can try, but at the end of the day you will always be on the losing side if you decide to make Dazai change his mind on something he’s set his mind to. Chuuya can say this with confidence because he knows how Dazai is.
“Shut your trap. Fine. What do you want this time?”
Dazai hums, stroking his chin as he pretends to think hard on the question. It’s clear that he already had something in mind, though. “Purple hyacinths,”
Sadness, devoutness, and longing for reconciliation.
Chuuya might be a bit curious, but asking further would just mean giving in to Dazai’s whims. He prepares the flower with no qualms and then hands it to Dazai who has weirdly gotten quieter since just now. He looks at Chuuya with an emotion in his eyes that Chuuya cannot name, but then the look disappears in a flash.
“You’re almost done, right? I’ll wait for you outside,”
Dazai started pestering him to go back home together as well on the seventh day since they met again (no, Chuuya hasn’t been keeping count). Thankfully Kouyou hasn’t gotten hold of this information yet, most definitely because Dazai’s coworkers haven’t seen them going home together. She would’ve been having so much more fun this morning if she knew.
“Wait,” Dazai pauses on his heels, turning back to look at Chuuya after the ginger calls out to him. “Why’re you waiting outside? It’s cooler in the back,”
Understandably, Dazai’s eyes widened in surprise. He says nothing though as he nods and goes to wait for Chuuya inside. After he’s out of sight, the ginger rubs his face with his hands, in disbelief with how easy he was being. It feels a little bit warmer than before, but Chuuya decides to ignore it in favor of getting everything done as quickly as he can.
Their walk home afterwards is pretty uneventful. Dazai talks about his day like he usually does, but he doesn’t whine like he always does when Chuuya barely spares him a glance. Chuuya even considers speaking up for the first time, but he immediately throws the idea into the trash bin at the back of his head.
He shall not succumb to the awkwardness. Also isn’t this good? If the mood keeps on being like this maybe Dazai would realise that whatever they had was in the past and is better kept that way. Maybe Dazai would stop tagging along with him every morning. Maybe Dazai would stop knocking on the glass window just to mouth ‘Bye,’ to Chuuya every time he has to leave for one of his cases.
That’s definitely not sad at all.
Their building has always been near their workplace, but today the distance feels even shorter for some reason. They ride the elevator together in silence, and once they finally reach their floor Chuuya beelines to his door with no intentions to look back at all. Of course, his whole body freezes once Dazai calls his name.
“Chuuya, wait!”
Chuuya sighs audibly, fingers ready to key in his passcode. He was so close, damn it.
He turns around reluctantly, only to find out that the brunette has apparently approached him while he wasn’t looking. His eyes first meet with the sight of that stupid bolo tie in front of stupidly broad chest, and when Chuuya looks up he finds Dazai looking back at him.
“Hands,”
“?” Chuuya’s too confused to ask, too confused to stop himself from obeying the request. Dazai gently places the bouquet in his open palms.
“See you next week,” He says, before leaving Chuuya alone in the hallway.
Chuuya can hear some noises coming from inside Dazai’s house as soon as the brunette hurriedly closes the door. There’s a thump as if a body just bumped against the wood and then the sound of something sliding down to the floor. The ginger looks down at the bouquet of flowers left in his hands.
Purple hyacinths. Sadness, longing for reconciliation.
He keeps the flowers in a small vase and places them in his living room. As he goes about the rest of his day, Chuuya’s eyes keep wandering back to look at the flowers. His heart aches still, but he touches the small petals with the tip of his fingers and smiles a little.
Dazai wasn’t the type of kid who’d fall ill so easily, but when he does, he can barely get out of his bed. Back then, he’d call Chuuya and have him come to his house to take care of him. The first time, Chuuya unfortunately had to obey him with no complaints because he just lost their bet when they went against each other at the arcade the week before.
He walked to Dazai’s house and was allowed to enter by the butler. He’s known of the fact that Dazai’s practically living all by himself since his parents were always out on a business trip, but stepping inside the huge house himself made him realise how bad it actually was.
He entered Dazai’s room and found him under layers of blankets, looking the sickest a human being could look like and he panicked. 16 year old Chuuya then spent the whole day nursing Dazai back to health – placing wet cloth on his hot forehead and replacing it every time it got less cold, providing a list for the butler and maids to prepare for their sick young master (he searched on google for good food to eat when one was sick) and staying by Dazai’s bed so he could get the brunette anything he might need.
A sick Dazai wasn’t as annoying as usual Dazai, maybe because he barely had the energy to breathe and open his eyes, so Chuuya didn’t have a hard time at all. Dazai looking like a poor sopping wet kitten might have also made the whole experience more interesting, for a lack of a better word. So, the next few occasions where Dazai got sick and called in for his ‘dog’ to help, Chuuya would call him names through the phone, but he’d be staying over for the night at Dazai’s house anyways.
So, when Monday finally comes, and Dazai isn’t around to pester him in the morning, Chuuya has a nagging feeling that he probably should knock at the brunette’s door before leaving. But then he remembers about the flowers neatly placed in his living room, and he stops himself. Chuuya waits for 15 minutes outside his door, before realizing that he’s being stupid and decides to just leave without Dazai.
The day passes with nothing out of the norm to note, but Chuuya does feel like something’s missing somehow. He sighs, disappointed in himself. He’s been doing fine for FOUR YEARS then suddenly Dazai bats his long lashes and pesters him with his stupid brown eyes, and he’s already back to living rent free in Chuuya’s head like he never left.
He sighs again, louder this time. He’s been stocking some flowers that were out, so thankfully Kouyou is at the counter and far enough to not hear him. Chuuya doesn’t think he wants to be interrogated again, thank you very much.
The doorbell suddenly jingles, and Chuuya immediately turns to look at the door. It’s Atsushi. Chuuya tells himself he wasn’t expecting anyone in particular, and no, he’s not disappointed.
Atsushi locks eyes with him and bow a little as a greeting, which Chuuya reciprocates from where he’s sitting. Then the younger goes to Kouyou for whatever it was his intention of coming in the first place. Chuuya can’t help but eavesdrop from where he is.
“Hi, Ozaki-san! I’d like to know if I make an order right now, would it be possible to have it ready a bit later today?”
“Oh, you’re coming to take your order near our closing time, then?”
“Yes! I have plans with someone right after work, so I’ll have to get a move on immediately after clocking out if I don’t want to keep them waiting for long. If I make an order now, I’ll only have to come to take the flowers later, and they’ll look the freshest too, right?”
“That’s not wrong. But why not leave for your date earlier if you’d have to rush?”
“I–It’s not a date! Oh, uh, Dazai-san didn’t come today so we kind of need all the hands we can get in the office,”
Chuuya immediately flinches. This morning, Dazai wasn’t there when he left his house. He assumed the brunette slept through his alarms or something. He turns around to face the two and speaks out, “Dazai didn’t come to work today? Did he say why?”
Atsushi flinches at suddenly being interrogated, his imaginary tail drooping down as if he did something wrong. “W–Well I’m not really sure. I’m quite new, you see. Kunikida-san said Dazai doesn’t really call in to let us know if he’s going to be absent from work, but he usually comes in the next day or the day after that, and he’ll tell everyone that he was sick or something. I tried calling his phone too, but he never picks up,”
Chuuya grits his teeth. Of course he doesn’t. That big baby can barely stay alive when he’s in that weakened state of his..! Chuuya stares at the rows of flowers in front of him for a second before he makes up his mind. He gets to his feet so fast his stool almost falls down, and disappears through the door that leads to the room they use to prepare special orders.
Atsushi and Kouyou wordlessly watch him leave, before looking at each other.
“I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on with them too, boy. So, your order?”
Chuuya was able to guess Dazai’s passcode on the first try. He pushes the door open, slowly so as to not make too much noise, just in case Dazai’s sleeping. He places his shoes next to Dazai’s – he totally did not roll his eyes when he notices they’re larger than his – and steps further inside.
He places his stuff on Dazai’s couch and looks for the master bedroom. The door’s already opened, so he pushes it just the slightest bit to let himself in and is greeted by the sight of the messiest bedroom he’s ever seen.
Okay, not really – he’s been to Dazai’s room in the past and it was always messy like this, too. Except, there weren’t any empty alcohol bottles scattered around the bed back then. Chuuya doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but he ignores it to get to his main objective first. He sidesteps some clothes here and there and finally gets to stand near the bed.
Dazai’s bundled up under his thick blanket, soundly asleep. Chuuya can hear his little snores from where he’s standing. He reaches out to feel the temperature on his forehead with his hand. Pretty hot, but not worryingly hot.
Chuuya thanks himself for remembering to bring some one-time-use gloves from the shop. He wears them and proceeds to clean up the mess in Dazai’s room as best as he can. He collects all the dirty laundry and loads them into the washing machine up to its full capacity, and puts the rest inside a random basket he found that’s big enough. As for the bottles, he gathers them together and throws them away along with some other rubbish already tied in bags that seemed to have been left for quite awhile in the kitchen.
After that, he returns to a home that looks a bit more well-kept than before. He rummages through Dazai's wardrobe and manages to find a handkerchief which he proceeds to wash and wet with cold water, then he gently puts it on the brunette’s forehead. Once that’s done, Chuuya goes back to the kitchen to figure out what to cook for them. In the end, he settles with a simple egg porridge since Dazai doesn’t really have anything decent to use in his fridge.
Dazai’s still sleeping, it seems. The porridge is done, but Chuuya doesn’t feel like waking the brunette up. He can just heat up the porridge later when they’re actually going to eat it. Plus, he doesn’t think he’s ready to face the music just yet. Yes, coming here was a conscious decision of his, but he didn’t really think this one through.
What would he say to Dazai later? Just admit to him that he got worried and immediately requested to leave early from work for “reasons I can’t tell yet, I’ll explain later,”. Kouyou let him leave without any questioning, but he knows how distressed he looked. She will definitely demand for answers from him later.
Chuuya yawns. Cleaning around the brunette’s house was no small work, and now that everything’s done and his mind was allowed to relax, he feels very lethargic. Dazai’s couch for some reason feels way better than his, and it’s making it harder for him to battle with the sleepiness. A little nap won’t hurt, maybe.
Dazai thought he was getting robbed. He was rotting in sickness on his bed as one does, when he suddenly heard the sounds of his keypad being pressed. Then a click, immediately followed by his door being opened.
Did the burglar actually figure out his passcode on the first attempt?! Was he being watched for a period of time? Or did they try out every number combination possible like that one stalker in that psychological thriller BL?
All sorts of theories fly through his mind, but then he hears a familiar voice saying “Damn, this place is a mess,” and Dazai immediately short-circuited. He couldn’t decide fast enough on the right course of action so the best thing he could come up with was to feign sleeping. And Chuuya bought his acting so easily.
Dazai almost let out a sigh of comfort when Chuuya touched his forehead, but he pinched his thigh under the blanket to stop himself. Don’t cave in that easily! Dazai didn’t know why he’s avoiding any sort of confrontation with the ginger, but he blamed it on his fever-muddled brain.
He listened to the sound of Chuuya tidying up his house, then he took in the smell of the porridge wafting in from the kitchen. But currently he’s able to hear nothing. Hm.
His bones are still aching a bit, but he arduously gets himself off the bed and walks out of his now-cozier room. Dazai looks around his own house, no sight of the ginger until his eye falls on the soundly sleeping lump on his couch. He pitter-patters towards the figure, but something else on his coffee table catches his attention that he sidetracks for a bit.
It’s a bouquet of flowers.
Dazai obviously does not own any vases or some kind of container that’s fitting for flower keeping, but he can see that Chuuya made do with some plastic bottle with the upper part cut off. He approaches slightly further, bending a little bit forward to have a better look at the flowers but he accidentally kicks the coffee table along the way.
He barely made any sound, but Chuuya’s apparently a light sleeper. So the soft bump was immediately able to wake him up from his nap. The ginger groggily sits up and then blue eyes meet brown ones as Chuuya realises Dazai’s actually standing right there, and it’s not a dream anymore.
“What the hell, you can walk just fine? I thought you were dying,”
Dazai shakes his head, a soft look in his eyes directed at Chuuya. Has he never realised how Dazai was 60% pretending back then just so Chuuya would pamper him? Oh, Chuuya. Dazai might be in love. “You still remember,”
“What? That you can barely breathe when you’re sick? That’s not something one can easily forget, you know,”
Dazai almost chuckles. He’s a bit grumpier right now because he was forcefully awakened from his nap. He folds his arms in front of his chest, afraid that he might go forward and ruffle Chuuya’s cute bed hair or something.
“No. You guessed my passcode correctly,”
That seems to be enough to sober Chuuya up. He blinks and immediately rises to his feet.
“I was just lucky. Anyway, I made some food. Eat up. Get better,”
The ginger walks around to the other side of the coffee table and tries to leave before Dazai can say anything else.
“Wait,”
Yes, ‘tries’ is the keyword. Chuuya begrudgingly braces himself, chanting in his mind that he will not further embarrass himself today. Not in front of him. By the way, Dazai should’ve been in bed still, and Chuuya should’ve brought the porridge to his room, and then he would have woken him up before forcing the brunette to eat everything before Chuuya leaves. This isn’t what he had in mind. Fuck.
He turns around, “What is it, Dazai,”
Dazai traces his finger on the pink petal, “These flowers. Thanks, they’re beautiful. May I know the meaning they carry?”
“... get well soon,”
Dazai hums, “That’s it? That’s for the pink tulips, right? What about the lilies of the valley? Don’t they represent new beginnings, like one would gift it to express a wish to rebuild and repair a relationship?”
Chuuya deadpans at him, “If you knew then why’d you have to ask,”
“Don’t leave?”
Dazai said it so unsurely that it sounded more like a question coming out of his mouth. He clears his throat and tries again, “I mean, Chuuya cooked enough for two right? Why not just stay for dinner?”
“...”
“I’m also still sick, you know! Why not help with the dishes while you’re at it, right?”
“Fine,”
“Plus–! Wait, did you just agree?”
Chuuya rolls his eyes, “I’ll stay. Is it okay if I use your bathroom for a bit,”
“Oh. Yeah, sure,”
Dazai blinks, his eyes following Chuuya’s back as he disappears through the corridor to the bathroom. Did he just win in life?
The moment Chuuya’s back, he finds the food prepared by him already served on the dining table, and Dazai is being all smiley waiting for him. He warily sits down in front of the brunette.
“I know you’re sick and all, but why’re you looking at me like that?”
Dazai starts taking some of the porridge for himself, but there’s some noticeable giddiness in his every move. “Chuuya still remembers the date of our first meeting, how can I not be happy?”
Chuuya lets out a tired sigh, “You were so obsessed with the date, we basically celebrate the anniversaries because you always insisted on eating at that one ramen shop on the exact date for three years straight,”
“Okay, but it’s been four years since then. You could’ve forgotten, but the fact is you didn’t,”
The ginger can’t argue with that, so he just sighs aloud.
The food was decent, and Dazai has stopped teasing Chuuya about still having the pre-installed program on nursing one sick mackerel. The brunette smoothly starts asking about Kyouka and Kouyou, and the conversation casually moves to other topics related to their current life. Of course, there are some snide remarks here and there, and Chuuya might’ve rolled his eyes a few times more than he could count, but he didn’t feel like leaving immediately.
After he’s finished with the dishes, Chuuya asks Dazai where his meds are, but the brunette says he’s out of them for a while. “I feel so much better already! A good night’s sleep would have me back on my feet tomorrow,” Chuuya looks at him up and down – since he’s capable enough to stand on his own two feet, he must be speaking the truth then.
Dazai walks him to the door, but there is clear reluctance in the brunette’s eyes. He leans on his side against the wall as Chuuya puts his shoes on.
“I’m not dreaming, am I?”
Chuuya looks up at him, confused. “What?”
Dazai has a small smile on his face, he’s looking at Chuuya so softly the ginger thought the taller might cry or something. “Chuuya really does want to be friends again, right? I did not make this whole thing up in my head, alone on my bed, eaten away by the fever virus?”
“You’re always so ridiculous, I swear to God–” Chuuya stops mid sentence, before shoving both his hands into the pocket of his hoodie jacket. “I believe we both were keeping our feelings to each other for the past years, but it’s not like there’s no hope left for us. So yes, I think it’s alright for us to become friends again,”
Dazai hums, cheekily tapping his chin like he’s considering Chuuya’s words like an offer. “But what if that’s not what I want, though?”
“Huh? Then why were you so persistent–”
Dazai slowly walks forward, the distance between them reduced to mere inches as Chuuya finds himself bumping his back softly against the door. The brunette bends down a little, further removing the gap between their faces. “What if I don't want to be just friends? What if I want more?”
He hears Chuuya’s soft gasp, and brown eyes immediately drop their gaze to the inviting pink lips oh so close to his. Ambitiously, Dazai tilts his head slightly in an attempt to capture Chuuya’s lips in a kiss, only to have a hand pushing his face away.
“Bastard! You’re still sick, remember!”
Chuuya looks furious. Dazai might have found him slightly intimidating if he wasn't glaring at Dazai with his face all red like a tomato. The brunette can’t help but let out a series of chuckles, he really does miss Chuuya so much. He takes the hand on his mouth in his, and places it around his waist before pulling Chuuya into a hug. Dazai rests his chin on the ginger tufts of hair, sighing in bliss. He tightens his embrace around Chuuya when he feels the ginger finally hugging him properly.
The next morning, Dazai opens his door at the usual time – as in, as soon as he hears Chuuya getting out of his house – but it’s a bit different today. Chuuya’s actually standing in front of his own door instead of already walking halfway to the elevator. He looks like he’s waiting for Dazai and the brunette can’t help but feel the biggest grin start to stretch his lips across his face.
“Chuuya’s waiting for me!!”
Chuuya ignores Dazai but takes his hand in his anyways.