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“Dazai, how the hell do you have so much stuff?” Chuuya asked, watching in horror as the brunet brought in way more boxes than Chuuya would think the man should have—including not just one, not just two, but three whole boxes that he claims are just bandages. Suddenly, Chuuya’s feeling that he’s starting to regret agreeing to this move.
A couple days or so after they reunited, Chuuya came back to his apartment one day to see Dazai in his kitchen, helping himself to peruse through Chuuya’s fridge. Chuuya stilled then, his mind scrambling to find the right thing to feel, or at the very least, find one thing to feel. He was conflicted, his mind a mix of emotions—relieved, angry, happy, hurt, annoyed, confused, shocked, anything and everything under the sun, you name it—and it all came to a screeching halt when Dazai’s gaze softened when he saw him and he smiled slightly, and Chuuya would say that it seemed to be a look of relief, even if it was subtle. “Let’s talk,” he said simply and seriously, way too unusual for the Dazai Chuuya knew. Yet Chuuya complied anyway, moving over to set his coat and hat on the coatrack by the door before following Dazai to the couch—his couch. Dazai was here, in his apartment, alive and well, and while Chuuya saw him before in the Port Mafia’s basement, that didn’t compare to seeing him now, free of his shackles and without the threat of the Port Mafia or death looming over their heads.
And Chuuya was glad he listened to Dazai then, for he apologized and explained everything that has to do with him leaving all those years ago. Chuuya finally got the complete picture, the full puzzle he was missing the pieces to, of why Dazai fled the Port Mafia four years ago.
Then after that initial conversation, Dazai ended up coming over more and more often, their relationship slowly building back up to what it used to be. He visited Chuuya more and more, all until Chuuya has grown accustomed to having spare bandages in his cabinets. His apartment started to seem too empty whenever Dazai wasn’t around, as if it were always meant for two, despite Chuuya living alone the entire time he’d had this apartment. Dazai’s clothes were in his closet, his toothbrush near his, his shoes right next to Chuuya’s at the door . . . Yet he never officially moved in, and whenever Dazai slept in his own home, Chuuya found that his bed always felt too big. There should be another body occupying that space, another specific, tall brunet with bandages all over.
He brought the topic up to Dazai a month or so before today, and Dazai immediately brightened up, as if he were waiting for Chuuya to ask. “Of course! How else am I supposed to watch over my dog after all?” He remarked teasingly, yet Chuuya could tell that he was just trying to hide how excited he was behind a taunting mask. Both he and Dazai probably knew it didn’t work out as well as he would’ve hoped, yet Chuuya didn’t comment on it, instead just rolling his eyes playfully and going along with Dazai’s taunt, the two of them jumping into a playful argument shortly afterwards.
With it being official, the two made their arrangements on their respective ends. Apparently, Dazai was living in the Armed Detective Agency’s employee dormitory, and it seemed that he gave his own room to one of their newbies—Kyouka Izumi, if Chuuya recalls correctly, the very same Kyouka that was with the Port Mafia before. How fitting, that the dorm of a former Port Mafia employee went to another former Port Mafia employee.
Anyways, on Chuuya’s end, there were a bit more kinks to iron out for the fact that he’s living in a Port Mafia issued apartment—the very same one that he got when he first joined. He had more than enough money now to move out and get a place of his own, even someplace bigger and nicer, but Chuuya never felt the need to. And besides, he was grateful that the Port Mafia gave him a roof over his head all those years ago. It’d just feel wrong to him if he trades the perfectly fine original place that was basically a gift from the Port Mafia for something that’ll feel less cozy. Although the only downside of that is the fact that it was a hassle to even get his landlord to agree to allowing Dazai on the lease. He had to pull the “I’m an executive” card at least twice with the guy. But now, even despite all of his efforts to get Dazai as an official tenant, Chuuya’s expression drops with dread as he watches Dazai lug in even more moving boxes.
“Oh don’t worry, Chuuya, I’m almost done,” Dazai said with a smirk that honestly causes Chuuya to have a bad feeling in his gut. It looks too mischievous, like Dazai’s planning something, but Chuuya has no idea what. Or, his “plan“ is that he doesn’t have a plan at all, and is purely acting this way just to set Chuuya on edge . . . Or maybe he actually is planning something and Chuuya’s right to be suspicious in the first place? Or not, this is Dazai we’re talking about, despite how much Chuuya knows about him, the many different and new ways in which Dazai messes with Chuuya are foreign to him, much to his discontent.
“‘Almost done?’” Chuuya repeated, gesturing to the moving boxes scattered around his apartment. “Dazai, you have enough stuff for a family of four!” And Chuuya thought he had a lot.
. . . Actually, the more he thinks about it, the more fishy this seems. He may not have seen Dazai for four years, but he’s sure that over that time the man didn’t become a hoarder. Dazai never had much to begin with, and he wasn’t the type of person to suddenly start hoarding everything, even if he went through something traumatic.
“One more box,” Dazai said happily, too happily. He dashed out the door again and Chuuya looked around the sea of boxes, looking for any clues. They all looked the same, none of them giving anything away of what Dazai may be planning. But Chuuya’s sure of it now, he is planning something, because when he thinks back, Dazai previously told him that he didn’t need any help in unpacking, which Chuuya thought was odd, but he didn’t comment on it—hence the current sea of boxes. He now realizes that he should’ve though, considering that even after four years, Dazai’s still a lazy ass who’d immediately jump at the idea of someone else doing his work for him. So him denying any help should’ve immediately set the alarm bells off in Chuuya’s head that something was up.
Dazai came back quickly, closing the door with his foot as he hauled the last box inside. Chuuya narrowed his eyes at him, suspicion clear on his features. Dazai however, ignored Chuuya’s skepticism entirely, dropping the box on the floor with a squeak.
Horror dawned on Chuuya’s face. Boxes don’t squeak.
He looked at Dazai with wide eyes, mouth agape as he just knows what’s in that box. Dazai’s expression however, gave nothing away, just smirking knowingly at Chuuya. Without saying anything, Dazai stepped off to the side and let Chuuya push past to his kitchen to get some scissors, silently dragging it along the tape of the box and just hoping that what’s in there isn’t what he thinks it is.
He opened the flaps of the box, and in sat dog toys. A mass amount of dog toys, plushies filled to the brim. Chuuya had to hold back physically assaulting Dazai and just wordlessly held one up, a plush cow with ropes for limbs and a squeaker in the belly.
“I have to keep my dog entertained, of course!” Dazai exclaimed happily, and Chuuya went on to open another box, this time, this one had a bunch of chew toy bones in it. He didn’t bother trying to confront Dazai on that one or hear his reasoning for it, instead moving towards another box. A bunch of leashes. Collars. Tennis balls. Dog kibble. Random shoes, and Chuuya had to do a double take because one typically doesn’t want their dog to chew up their shoes—hold up, Chuuya isn’t even Dazai’s dog to begin with, what the hell!?
“Dazai, what the fuck?” Chuuya asked tersely. There were still a few more boxes to open up, but honestly, he didn’t want to continue playing Dazai’s little game anymore.
“Well, I need to make sure my dog is taken care of, what kind of owner would I be otherwise?” Dazai asked innocently, as if it’s normal to just have a box of leashes for you dog. And besides . . .
“I’m not a damn dog!” Chuuya exclaimed, cringing at just how easily Dazai got under his skin. Seriously, why did he agree to him moving in? Actually, that’s better left unanswered. Chuuya sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Where the hell did you get all of this, anyway,” Chuuya asked, genuinely confused. These are moving sized boxes, did Dazai just buy out the entire pet store or something? And with what fucking money!? “And what are we gonna do with them?”
“I got it covered,” Dazai said, and while vague, Chuuya decided to let it slide for the fact that Dazai actually sounded serious. Probably helps that the brunet hates dogs—terrible opinion, really—and doesn’t want to be living with loads of dog supplies either. Meaning that he got all of this shit purely just to fuck with Chuuya. And while annoying, Chuuya has to applaud Dazai’s insane commitment.
“Open that one,” Dazai said, gesturing over to the one of the first boxes he brought in near the couch. Chuuya turned to look at it, then turned back to Dazai with a fed up expression, before going to protest.
“No, Dazai, I’m not opening another box probably full of dog bowls—”
“Just this one,” Dazai said, his expression borderline pleading as he looked at Chuuya with the softest gaze he had all day, and honestly, how could Chuuya say no to that?
Chuuya made a show to hesitate, looking back at the box then to Dazai once more before relenting and walking over, scissors in hand. Since it was by the couch, he decided to sit down for this one, fully expecting for Dazai just to be screwing with him and there’s actually just a giant pile of dog clothes in there, but instead, Chuuya found himself with a fond smile on his face after he saw what was inside.
A bottle of wine—an expensive brand too—a matching blanket and two pillow set, and a tabletop picture frame containing five photobooth strips of the two of them from the arcade they used to go to during different points of their lives, the older ones’ colors faded with age. He held the picture frame, studying each photo strip closely, reminiscing and remembering each time they took one. He and Dazai went to the photo booth in the arcade nearly every time they went, yet Chuuya knew that Dazai picked these five out for a reason.
The first was when they were fifteen, going to that arcade together for the very first time. Dazai forced Chuuya into taking photos with him, so in each of the four frames, Chuuya either looked annoyed or trying to escape, while Dazai was tormenting him as usual, pulling Chuuya back into frame while flashing the camera a menacing smile. When the booth dispersed the photo strips, Chuuya actually left his there on purpose, only to curse later when he went back to the Sheep and found out that Dazai had slipped it in his pocket at some point. He still has that strip today however, as he decided to keep it for some reason in the past that Chuuya now doesn’t even truly know why. The only difference between his strip and Dazai’s is that Dazai doodled dog ears and noses on each photo of Chuuya, which Chuuya chuckled at, despite just earlier getting pissed at Dazai for all of the dog jokes.
The next strip was when they were sixteen, and Chuuya remembered that day very clearly, for he won against Dazai in Street Fighter for the very first time and actually dragged Dazai into the photobooth to commemorate the occasion. He was beaming at the camera in each frame while giving out a silly pose save for the last photo, in which Dazai—who was pouting or giving Chuuya a dirty look the entire time—seemed to have enough and try to walk out of the booth. All you can see is a blurry shot of Chuuya’s shoulder and lower half of his face as he called out to Dazai when he was leaving. Chuuya didn’t even know that Dazai took that strip with him, fully thinking that he just left it in the booth while Chuuya took his. A message at the bottom in Dazai’s handwriting read “I let the Chibi win ┐( ˘_˘)┌,” causing Chuuya to roll his eyes, Dazai so didn’t, he was just being a sore loser.
The next two were photos taken on their seventeenth birthdays respectively, this time with both strips having a party hat doodled onto whoever’s birthday it was. Unlike the previous two, both Dazai and Chuuya looked happy and were in all four frames instead of one of them attempting to walk out. “Slug’s birthday” was written in Dazai’s handwriting under one of them with a drawing of a slug, and “Mackerel’s birthday” accompanied by a doodle of a fish by Chuuya on the other. He remembered that, just stealing Dazai’s birthday photo strip to get back at him for writing “Slug’s birthday” on his a couple of months before. Apparently Dazai wrote it on both of theirs, and the thought brought an amused look to Chuuya’s expression.
Then finally, the last photo strip took place when they were both seventeen again, this time, nothing special marking the date. It wasn’t the last time they went to the arcade together nor was it any moment where they were celebrating anything. It was a photo strip that, conceptually, should have no significance whatsoever considering the date. Yet there was still something memorable about this photo strip. Chuuya remembered it clearly, the way he posed in the first frame before noticing Dazai staring at him in the second. The way Dazai looked at him—as if full of need and longing—made Chuuya’s heart leap out of his chest. He licked his lips, and watched how Dazai followed the movement with his eyes. Chuuya remembered how he felt himself flush when their gazes met, the way he didn’t even think when he leaned closer as the third picture was taken. He noticed Dazai leaning in too, and before they knew it, their lips met as the fourth and final picture captured it, showing content expressions on their faces. And Chuuya remembered the way he saw Dazai’s eyes lit up for the first time afterwards, bringing a soft smile to his face.
He looked up at Dazai once more after he studied the pictures, finding himself unable to stop smiling from ear to ear. Dazai returned the gesture, and Chuuya found that he could forgive Dazai for this little dog stunt he pulled, at least for today.
~~~
All in all, only three boxes out of the—at least twenty—contained Dazai’s things, not including the only one box of all of his bandages. At least it wasn’t three like what Dazai lied about, but still, Chuuya has no idea where he’d store them for him. But nevertheless, all of that along with the one box containing the wine, pillow and blanket set, and the picture frame, that left at least fifteen boxes just full of random dog supplies—and shoes, Chuuya still doesn’t count that as “dog supplies,” even if Dazai claims they are. He hopes Dazai will deal with it like he said he would, or else Chuuya will have to threaten to kick him out, or at the very least, sleep on the couch. And honestly, that’s something Chuuya would prefer not to do.