Work Text:
25th December
Snow fell slowly, covering the mountainside in a thick white blanket as Atsushi drove up the narrow, winding road. His car’s headlights lit up the path ahead, the trees on both sides standing tall and quiet. The air inside was cold, and Atsushi held the wheel tightly, glancing now and then at the small gift box sitting on the passenger seat. The only sound was the soft crunch of snow under the tires, but Atsushi’s thoughts were loud in his head. Everything about the snowy road and silent forest felt dreamlike. Atsushi couldn’t tell whether it was the beauty of the place or the thought of seeing Dazai again that made his chest tighten.
Atsushi was on his way to a party, a Christmas celebration to be exact. It was hosted at Dazai’s holiday home.
His tall friend invited everyone from their friend group, Atsushi hadn’t even known Dazai owned such a place. The bandaged man, who lived in a cramped apartment near the city center, didn’t seem like someone who’d have a remote holiday place. Atsushi was surprised, not only by the revelation but by how far away the property actually was. The house stood on a snowy mountain, in a barren area surrounded by woods.
As Atsushi’s car crawled up the snow-covered roads, he found his thoughts drifting from time to time to the gift he’d brought for Dazai. His chest tightened with unease again. He wanted the present to feel casual, but he worried it might seem too personal, personal enough for Dazai to suspect the feelings he’d been hiding.
Everyone in their friend group, except Dazai himself, knew Atsushi was hopelessly in love with the brunet. Only Dazai seemed oblivious to how hopelessly gone Atsushi was for him.
Dazai, for his part, didn’t seem to mind Atsushi’s company. He was effortlessly sociable and charming with everyone, but there were moments when Atsushi felt that his presence mattered a little more to Dazai, that the brunet’s fleeting, focused glances were special somehow. Even so, Atsushi knew better than to hope. Dazai dated women, seemed wholly uninterested in men, and would never want someone like him. Atsushi was sure in that one thing.
With a heavy sigh, Atsushi banished his thoughts and focused on the snowy road ahead. The house was just up the hill, so Atsushi would have plenty of time to figure out what to do with the gift until he arrived there.
⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆
5th grade, elementary school
“A new kid will join the class.” That was what the teacher told Atsushi’s class the previous day. And the next day, there he was, an unknown brunet stepped into the classroom, his gaze was fixed firmly on the floor as if meeting anyone’s eyes might shatter him. His uniform hung loosely on his small frame, and Atsushi’s eyes were immediately drawn to the faint red marks on his wrists. They looked raw, it was very strange for someone their age.
Atsushi felt a pity, but more than that, curiosity. The new kid didn’t smile, didn’t even try to fake one and something about that quiet, guarded demeanor tugged at him. Atsushi thought about how lonely it must feel, carrying whatever pain made those marks. He didn’t know how, but he decided then and there, he was going to befriend him.
“The new kid looks stuck-up or something,” one of the boys sneered, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“And look at his arm!” another chimed in, pointing blatantly. “What’s with those red lines? That’s disgusting!”
“Ew, do you think it’s a disease? Maybe we’ll catch it if we’re near him.” The group broke into laughter, cruel and mocking.
“Hey, Scratchy! Yeah, I mean you,” one of the kids called out, his tone dripping with disdain. “Why’d you even come to our class? Just to make it weird?”
“Leave me alone,” the brunet muttered, clutching his arms tightly to his chest. But the boy didn’t back off, stepping closer with a sneer.
“Don’t talk back, Scratchy. We’re not finished with you yet.”
“Enough!” Atsushi’s voice rang out, sharper than even he expected. He moved between Dazai and the bullies. “What’s your problem? He didn’t do anything to you!”
“Our problem?” the leader mocked, his lips curling into a grin. “He’s a freak. Just like you, Choppy. You think you’re some kind of hero?” The other kids snickered behind him.
“At least I’m not cruel like you,” Atsushi shot back, his fists clenched. Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed Dazai’s hand and pulled him away, ignoring the jeers and laughter that followed them across the playground of the school.
“Okay, it’s safe now,” Atsushi said, letting go of Dazai’s hand once they were far enough from the bullies. He glanced around to make sure no one had followed before turning to the brunet.
Dazai stared at him, his brown eyes wide with surprise. “Why did you do that?” he asked quietly, his voice filled with confusion. “Now they’ll just pick on you too.”
Atsushi shrugged, giving him a small, lopsided smile. “They’ve been picking on me since I started school. I guess I’m used to it.” He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “But I couldn’t just stand there and let them treat you like that. It’s not right.”
Dazai blinked at him, still processing what had just happened. “You don’t even know me,” he said, his tone was somehow not too nice, it was emotionless.
“Maybe not,” Atsushi replied, then he bowed, “but I’d like to.” He grinned. “I’m Atsushi.”
Dazai blinked at Atsushi some more, then he burst out laughing to Atsushi’s surprise.
“What?” He asked with a slight irritation.
“Nothing just… you are weird,” Dazai smiled at him faintky, and Atsushi felt happy he could make the other kid’s mood better.
“I’m Dazai.”
⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆
Present – 25th December
When Atsushi pulled into the lot, he was stunned. The place was even larger than he’d imagined. Now, the sprawling estate looked even more out of place for someone like Dazai.
He must have a rich family to own something like this, Atsushi thought, feeling a pang of unrest as he approached the grand front door. His nervousness rose with every step, but the hope that spending time with Dazai might soothe his nerves kept him going.
He knocked. For a few moments, the house was silent, and then he heard Dazai’s sing-song voice from the other side.
“Coming!”
Atsushi quickly smoothed his hair and adjusted his sweater, taking one last calming breath before the door swung open.
“H-Hi Dazai,” Atsushi stammered in a high-pitched voice. He didn’t intend to sound like that, but he couldn’t help as his nervousness leaked through his words.
There stood his friend, his brown eyes seemed a little surprised at the sight of him, it was almost like he didn’t expect and believed the other to actually show up despite his invitation.
Atsushi couldn’t blame him, truth to be told, he was avoiding Dazai since high school ended. He realised his feelings for the brunet by the end of the last year, and with that came the revelation about his chances being pretty close to zero. He simply couldn’t put up with the fact that he can never have what he wanted with Dazai.
He choose to avoid him whenever it was possible. Now that they were university students and not classmates, this proved to be easier than Atsushi would have thought it would be. He didn’t go to friend gatherings when Dazai came as well, and that was the way it went until now. He started to feel pretty bad that he avoided his ex best friend, sadly he wouldn’t think they could be called best friends anymore.
Still, he had missed Dazai terribly, and seeing him again made him realize just how foolish he’d been.
But Dazai had always been surrounded by people, always admired. Someone like him wouldn’t have had time to be sad about losing Atsushi. He must have been fine without him. Atsushi was sure he was popular at university and had lots of fun without him. The thought sat heavy in his chest.
After Dazai’s slight shock came his grin, warm and kind as Atsushi always knew it to be. His heart was pounding in his throat just from seeing it again. His tall friend was wearing a Christmas sweater, to Atsushi’s horror and delight, it made him look unbearably adorable. Atsushi swallowed hard; he had to remind himself to breathe.
“Atsushi, it’s always good to see you!” Dazai greeted him cheerfully, “It’s a shame I don’t get to do that a lot though.” he stepped aside to let him in. The silver-haired man could see him smiling still, but somehow it didn’t reach his eyes. “How was your journey?” Dazai asked.
Atsushi went inside to clumsily take off his coat. “It was… nice. B-But I got lost at one point. This place is hard to find.” He let out a nervous laugh.
“Ah, yes. It is in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?” Dazai scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle. “Still, I think it’s perfect for something like this, don’t you think it has a nice, cozy vibe?”
Atsushi nodded quickly as he glanced around, his heart racing. “Y-Yeah, it does.”
As he stepped further into the house, he glanced to his left and noticed a spacious living room with a cozy fireplace. The area was separated from the rest of the house by a few wooden columns and a short staircase, just enough to account for the slight difference in floor level. On his right, as Dazai led him further in, was a charming kitchen. The warm, inviting space smelled faintly of citrus and spices, and Atsushi’s eyes landed on a pot simmering on the stove.
“Dazai, how is it you own a place like this, and we never knew about it until now?” Atsushi asked, curiosity tinged with surprise.
Dazai stood before the stove, stirring the pot, his back to Atsushi. “It was my family’s inheritance,” he explained, his tone light but distant. “It only officially became mine this year, which is why I hadn’t mentioned it before.”
Atsushi froze for a moment as the words sank in. In other words, Dazai had no parents anymore, he thought, a pang of sadness tightening his chest. He wanted to comfort him, maybe even hug him, but he knew that would be inappropriate. Otherwise, Dazai might inherited it from some unknown rich uncle who has just recently passed away, so who he was to jump onto so sudden conclusions. Dazai clearly didn’t want to linger on the subject, and Atsushi didn’t want to pry. Instead, he stepped closer to the stove, peering curiously into the pot.
“Is that mulled wine?” Atsushi asked, his expression softening at the sight of oranges and cinnamon sticks floating in the crimson liquid.
“If I don’t mess it up, then yes, it will be,” Dazai chuckled, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m not exactly the world’s best cook, you know.”
“It doesn’t look bad so far,” Atsushi said, leaning in to get a better look. “If you want, I can help.”
“That would be great,” Dazai said, a playful grin forming on his face as he leaned casually against the counter. “But before you join my wine operation, Atsushi, I need to ask you something.”
Atsushi blinked in confusion and in fear. He hoped it was not about Atsushi’s absence in the previous years from Dazai’s life. “What is it?” He asked nervously.
“How is it you got here so early? The party doesn’t start for another hour.”
Atsushi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, am I that early?”
“You are,” Dazai confirmed with a nod, his grin turning mischievous. “Was Atsushi this eager to see me?”
Panic swept over Atsushi’s face as he stammered, “I-I didn’t realize I was early! I just wanted to make sure I didn’t get lost on the way, and…”
“Relax, Atsushi.” Dazai reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Atsushi’s shoulder, which made the silver-haired man go tense all of a sudden. “It’s completely fine. You’re always more than welcome to come early. I’m really glad to finally see you.”
With that, Dazai stepped aside and gestured toward the simmering pot. “At least this way, you can make sure I don’t burn the kitchen to ashes.”
“Yeah,” Atsushi murmured, looking down at the floating orange slices. “At least I can.” A sad smile played on his lips as he felt as lost in Dazai’s presence as those oranges seemed in the wine.
⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆
The party began quietly, as their gatherings often did. True to form, Kunikida arrived right on time, bringing Ranpo and Yosano along with him. Chuuya and Akutagawa showed up shortly after, grumbling about the taxi driver who had only taken them as far as the base of the hill, leaving them to fight their way through the snow to reach Dazai’s house. By the time they arrived, both were covered in snow and looked like disgruntled snowmen.
Kenji, Tanizaki, and Naomi arrived together in another car, and once everyone had settled inside, they joked about how poorly they had coordinated their transportation. If they’d planned better, they could have saved a taxi fare or at least one car.
As the group relaxed, and they were done with the fast catching up, Dazai showed them the drinks. True to his style, there were far more bottles than necessary, offering almost endless choices. It was a well-known fact that their parties often became chaotic as the night went on, though this time a few drivers, including Atsushi, Kunikida, and Tanizaki, were supposed to stay out of the drinking festivities.
“What’s up, Atsushi? You want some?” Yosano plopped down on the couch beside him, holding two mugs of mulled wine in her hands.
“I can’t,” Atsushi said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m driving, you know.”
“Huh, lame excuse,” Yosano teased, taking a sip from her mug. “There’s plenty of room in Kunikida’s car. Don’t be shy.”
“Thank you, Yosano, but–”
“Hey, Kunikida!” Yosano called out, cutting the boy off and yelling across the room at the blond, who was in the middle of a heated argument with Chuuya.
“What is it?” Kunikida shouted back, exasperated.
“You’re taking Atsushi home after the party, right?”
“I can,” Kunikida confirmed, barely glancing her way.
“There you go.” Yosano handed Atsushi the mug with a triumphant smirk. “Problem solved. Cheers, Atsushi.”
Atsushi hesitated but finally took the mug,“Cheers,” he smiled at the woman next to him shyly.
⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆
“Tanizakiii, I can’t take this anymore,” Atsushi whined, his words slurring as he slumped onto a chair. He was well past tipsy, the combination of mulled wine and the other drinks Dazai had so generously pressed into his hands left him thoroughly drunk. His cheeks were flushed, his movements unsteady, and his usual shy demeanor now replaced with an almost theatrical despair. “He is too hot, and he’s too kind. It’s unfair!”
Tanizaki sighed, watching his friend’s drunken theatrics with a mix of amusement and pity. This wasn’t the first time Atsushi had poured his heart out about Dazai after a few drinks. “You should just tell him how you feel, you know,” Tanizaki suggested, though his tone was resigned. “You’ve known him longer than any of us, well, maybe except Chuuya,” he added with a wary smile. “Remember when he was so down and depressed?” His expression softened.
“Of course,” Atsushi murmured, his voice quieter now. “How could I forget?”
“You were the only one who could pull him out of that state,” Tanizaki reminded him gently. “You’re special to him, Atsushi. That much is obvious.”
“As a friend, maybe,” Atsushi said with a sad smile, staring down at the empty glass in his hands. “And I’m grateful for that. Really, I am. But… it hurts so much at the same time.”
Tanizaki let out a long sigh, unsure of what else to say. He placed a comforting hand on Atsushi’s shoulder. “Don’t worry so much, Atsushi. Try to enjoy the party. Stop thinking about Dazai for a while, it might help.”
“I wish I could,” Atsushi muttered, his lips curling into a bitter smile. Without another word, he reached for another bottle, pouring himself a generous drink. “But that’s easier said than done.”
And with that, he took a long, defiant swig, as if the alcohol could ease the ache in his chest.
⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆
Atsushi’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he lay still, his mind went foggy and blank as he tried to piece together where he was. The scent of faint spices and wood lingered in the air, and the events of the night felt like fragments of a dream. Then it hit him, he’d slept in. Panic jolted him upright, his heart racing as he scanned the quiet living room. The once-bustling house was eerily still, and as his eyes landed on the kitchen, he realized only Dazai was there, casually leaning against the counter with a steaming mug in his hands. Nobody was there anymore except the tall brunet. Maybe everyone else had already left.
“I overslept…” Atsushi muttered, staring in horror at Dazai, who turned around at the sound of his voice, his dark eyes locking onto Atsushi with a curious look.
“You did,” Dazai said matter-of-factly. “You drank way too much. I was actually worried about you, you know,” his voice became uncharacteristically serious. “How are you feeling?” Dazai walked up to Atsushi and sat next to him on the couch.
“My head feels like it’s going to split open, but other than that, I’m fine,” Atsushi replied, rubbing his temple. “I’m really sorry I made you worry.” He sent the brunet a sheepish smile.
Dazai’s expression softened at that. “It’s fine,” he waved. “At least it seems like you enjoyed yourself.” He added with a chuckle.
“I’m so sorry, I must have been terribly embarrassing." Atsushi buried his face in his hands. “I don’t remember anything…”
Dazai didn’t respond to that immediately, so Atsushi questioningly looked up at him. Dazai’s expression was unreadable.
“You did nothing you should worry about,” said the tall man finally with a slight smile.
“Great,” Atsushi sighed in relief. It seemed like he did not confess his undying love for Dazai. That would have been the real embarrassment.
“I wanted to wake you before everyone left by the way,” Dazai mentioned, “but Ranpo insisted I shouldn’t for some reason,” Dazai said, tilting his head slightly as he looked at Atsushi with faint suspicion.
Atsushi froze for a second, understanding perfectly why Ranpo might have suggested that. The thought made his stomach churn, and he hoped that Dazai only knew about half of the reasons why Ranpo might have done that.
“We both know how sharp Ranpo is,” Dazai continued, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “He always acts with a purpose. So why do you think he told me to let you sleep, Atsushi?”
“I have a guess,” Atsushi admitted. “It’s probably because of my father,” he added hesitantly.
Dazai’s expression shifted, his voice careful as he asked, “Is he… worse than he was when we were younger?”
“Oh yeah,” Atsushi replied bitterly, his tone sharp. “He’s much worse now.” He spat the words out like poison.
“I guess Ranpo just didn’t want my Christmas to be miserable,” Atsushi said with a sad smile. “Since I can’t exactly go home now, especially after drinking, and Kunikida already left without me.”
Dazai glanced out the window, his brow furrowing. “I’d offer to drive you home, I’m not afraid of losing my driver's license to cops, but…” He trailed off, gesturing toward the view outside. “You should see the situation out there.”
“Huh? What situation?” Atsushi asked, standing up and moving to the window. His eyes widened at the sight of heavy snow falling in thick sheets, blanketing the landscape in a relentless flurry.
“Looks like we’re stuck here,” Atsushi said, his voice resigned. “There’s no way we can get out tonight. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow and hope the weather clears up by then.”
“Exactly,” Dazai agreed. “And knowing Ranpo, he probably guessed the snowstorm would get worse. They must’ve left while they still could and left you here so you wouldn’t have to deal with...” Dazai stopped to search for the right words, “going home.” he averted his gaze as he finished the sentence.
Atsushi sighed, staring at the swirling snow outside. “I guess I owe him for that,” he murmured, though the bitter edge in his voice hinted at how little comfort that brought him.
“I’m sorry I ruined your Christmas night,” Atsushi turned around, his gaze dropping to the floor before flickering back to Dazai.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t ruin anything,” Dazai said, waving it off as if brushing the thought aside.
“I’m sure you’d rather be with your girlfriend right now,” Atsushi said, collapsing onto a chair with a defeated sigh.
“With my what?” Dazai repeated, staring at Atsushi in mock disbelief. An amused smile tugged at his lips. “Why on earth do you think I have a girlfriend, Atsushi?”
“Well,” Atsushi began, rolling his eyes, “you always flirted with the girls in our class, and they were all head over heels for you. There’s no way someone like you could still be single.”
Dazai clapped his hands together with a grin. “It is very flattering that you think I am this charming, but I have to disappoint you; I have no girlfriend. I was just messing around back then, you know.” He leaned back slightly, his grin widening. “I never meant any of those flirts seriously.”
“Oh, I see,” Atsushi muttered, though his stomach twisted cruelly at the revelation. “Then you’d probably rather be with your family,” he said softly.
Dazai’s expression shifted, and for a moment, he lowered his head, hiding his face. “No, Atsushi,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I was planning to spend Christmas completely alone.”
When he looked up again, his face was lit with a cheerful expression that felt hollow, so forced that it made Atsushi’s chest ache. He noticed it instantly but chose not to press further, sensing the delicate boundary he shouldn’t cross.
“We should do something,” Dazai said suddenly, his voice light but distant.
“Maybe we should sleep,” Atsushi suggested nervously, glancing at the clock. “It’s 4 a.m., after all.”
“Maybe we should,” Dazai agreed with a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes again. “There are guest rooms upstairs. Please choose whichever you like. Tomorrow, we’ll see how the weather is.”
Atsushi stood up hesitantly, walking toward the stairs, but stopped when he realized Dazai wasn’t following. “Dazai, aren’t you coming?” he asked, turning back.
Dazai remained in place, his posture rigid, his gaze unfocused. In his eyes, Atsushi caught a flicker of emptiness, an emotion he couldn’t quite name but felt all too strongly.
“Ah, I’ll stay here for a little while,” Dazai said, forcing a smile that was too quick, too bright. He waved dismissively without meeting Atsushi’s gaze. “Good night!”
“Good night, Dazai,” Atsushi replied uncertainly, his heart heavy as he climbed the stairs.
As he reached the top, he paused, realizing with a pang of guilt that he hadn’t given Dazai his gift; it was still sitting in the pocket of his jacket, just like Dazai was still sitting in that quiet living room, alone on Christmas night.
⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆
2nd year, high school
Atsushi got used to walking to school with Dazai. He got used to waiting for him after class, to Dazai finding him in any crowd, like he was a fixed point in his internal compass. He got used to hands wrapping casually around his wrist, to being dragged somewhere without warning, to leaning shoulder to shoulder whenever the world felt loud.
He didn’t notice how unusual it was anymore.
Everyone else did.
They were standing near the gates after school. Chuuya was there. Yosano. Kunikida. Akutagawa was lurking nearby with a book he wasn’t really reading. It was just a noisy but normal day.
Atsushi had just said something as a remark for one of Dazai’s cryptic comment, laughing too hard at his own dumb joke, when Yosano sighed dramatically, hands on his hips.
“Honestly,” she said. “You two are ridiculous.”
Dazai nudged him with his elbow. “We take that as a compliment.”
“No, really,” she continued, voice half fond, half amused. “You’re inseparable. Every time I turn around, you’re together. If one of you is somewhere, the other is probably within a three-meter radius.”
Chuuya smirked. “They’re basically glued at the hip.”
“Inseparables,” Tanizaki echoed with a teasing grin. “
Atsushi rolled his eyes. “We’re just good friends.”
“Sure you are,” Yosano hummed.
Atsushi meant to brush it off. He’d heard worse. He’d heard comments before with more negative undertones about them being like a pair. Especially the girls who hovered around Dazai all the time in hopes of him noticing them were picking on Atsushi a lot.
But now that one of their friend also pointed out their close relationship, it made him pause a little.
Dazai wasn’t laughing either.
He was smiling, yes. Of course, he was smiling. He always was. But now what Atsushi saw was not his usual airy, detached curve. This smile was softer, almost startled
Atsushi blinked.
“‘Inseparables,’ huh?” Dazai repeated lightly, voice quiet enough that only Atsushi heard it. “That has a nice ring to it.”
His hand brushed Atsushi’s sleeve, only for a second.
Atsushi’s heartbeat did something strange.
He shouldn’t have liked that word as much as he did.
But he did, he always did.
Someone called again, pulling the group’s attention. Plans formed. People began to drift. The world kept moving.
Dazai didn’t.
He stayed exactly where he was, close enough that Atsushi could feel warmth through the side of his arm.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Dazai asked suddenly.
Atsushi blinked. “Mind what?”
“That people see us that way.” Dazai shrugged, eyes cutting toward him sideways. “As… always together.”
Atsushi frowned thoughtfully. “Why would I mind?”
Most things in his life came and went. Dazai never did. Dazai was steady even when everything else wasn’t.
He smiled softly before he could stop himself.
“I like it,” he admitted. “It’s nice knowing someone’s always there.”
Dazai went still.
Just for a fraction of a heartbeat.
Then his mouth curved fondly. His gaze dipped, lingering on Atsushi in open, appreciative warmth.
“Good,” he murmured
Atsushi’s stomach fluttered.
He pretended not to notice.
Yosano called their names to hurry up. Chuuya shouted something about not blocking the gate.
As they started walking with the others, Dazai leaned slightly closer, voice brushing Atsushi’s ear. “Then I suppose I’ll just keep staying,” he said softly. “Wouldn’t want to ruin our reputation.”
Atsushi’s face felt too warm.
He tried to play it cool. “You talk like that’s a sacrifice.”
Dazai laughed, light and pleased, a sound that wrapped around him and stayed. “Atsushi,” he said, and his tone was so stupidly affectionate it was unfair, “trust me. It isn’t.”
Atsushi didn’t have to look to know Dazai was smiling. He could feel it.
Present – 26th December
Atsushi woke at nine to the quiet hush of snow.
For a moment he lay still, listening to the radiator ticking, staring at the ceiling with an uneasy feeling creeping inside his chest.
Yesterday, he drank himself silly then fell asleep on the target of his undying love’s couch.
And worst of all, he still couldn’t remember a single thing about the party after he poured his heart out to poor Tanizaki, who listened to him like a true warrior.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself out of bed. The room he chose to sleep in was a quiet cosy one, it had a nice little window next to the king sized bed he was sleeping in. As he stepped closer to it, he saw that the world outside was all white and blinding. The snowstorm was still heavy although it became a bit calmer than it was yesterday.
He headed to the narrow corridor and then padded downstairs, the wooden steps cool under his feet. Sunlight mixed with the snow whitish colors filtered in through the large windows downstairs too, reflecting off untouched snow outside.
Then his eyes moved to the couch.
Dazai lay sprawled across it, one arm hanging down, his hair was a mess, the clothes on his frame were still the same as last night. He hadn’t even bothered with a blanket. For a second, Atsushi just stood there, staring.
He didn’t come up.
A tight, uncomfortable guilt settled in his chest. He should have stayed last night with Dazai. The brunet even told him that he wanted to do something but Atsushi cut him off.
Quietly, Atsushi turned toward the kitchen. He wanted or rather needed to do something. As a kind of apology he couldn’t phrase. He put on coffee, moved carefully, deliberately, trying not to wake Dazai.
“What are you doing?”
Atsushi startled so badly he nearly dropped the mug.
“Dazai–!”
He was awake now, sitting up slightly, eyes half-open but sharp neverthless. His piercing gaze made Atsushi feel like the other man had been awake for a while.
“Good morning,” Dazai said mildly as he rubbed at his eyes. “Planning an escape? Packing breakfast before you become a snowman on your way down the hill?”
“N-no,” Atsushi said quickly. He was taken aback by Dazai’s dry tone. “I–I wanted to make breakfast. I thought I’d surprise you.”
“Oh.” Dazai tilted his head. “How thoughtful.”
The words sounded right, but again, the tone didn’t.
They ate together at the kitchen table. Atsushi made toast from the things Dazai most probably bought yesterday for the party. Snow was drifting endlessly beyond the windows. Dazai drank his coffee slowly, watching the steam rise as if it were deeply interesting.
“…You slept on the couch,” Atsushi said finally.
“Did I?” Dazai replied, eyes still on his mug. “Funny how that happens.”
Atsushi flinched internally.
“Why didn’t you come upstairs?” He asked, then hurried on, “I mean… You said you would.”
Dazai hummed. “I got tired.”
Atsushi blinked at him uncomfortably.
“And somehow,” the brunet added, “it didn’t feel urgent.”
The uneasy feeling sharpened in Atsushi’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” Atsushi said quietly. “I didn’t mean to just… leave you here.”
Dazai looked at him with an indifferent face.
“You didn’t,” he said. “You went to sleep.”
Outside, the snow fell thicker, and Atsushi’d rather look at it through the window than face Dazai’s empty eyes.
“So,” Dazai continued, as if nothing were wrong, “how bad is it?”
“The snow?” Atsushi asked, grateful for the shift. “Pretty bad. I can barely see my car’s wheels. It’s still coming down.”
Dazai nodded. “Then we’re stuck.”
“I guess so.” Atsushi hesitated. “What should we do?”
Dazai leaned back, considering. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess since it’s christmas eve, we should celebrate it.”
“Maybe we should,” Atsushi nodded slowly.
“Do you know what people do on Christmas?”
“You don’t?” Atsushi raised one eyebrow.
“We never really did Christmas.”
Atsushi frowned. “Oh…”
“Yesterday I made mulled wine because the internet told me to.” He shrugged.
Atsushi smiled faintly, then faltered. “My family used to decorate a tree.” He said while wringing his hands. “When my mother was still alive.” His voice broke despite himself.
“I’m sorry,” Dazai said after a beat of silence.
They sat there for a moment longer in the tense sound of the wind howling outside.
“It’s strange,” Dazai said eventually, stirring his coffee though it had gone untouched this time. “How can we know each other for years and still manage to miss… quite a lot.”
Atsushi’s chest tightened.
“And I don’t know,” Dazai continued lightly, “but you started disappearing from my life toward the end of high school.” He smiled faintly. “I always wondered why.”
“I never meant to,” Atsushi said quickly. “I just–” realised I’m hopelessly in love with you…. He definitely couldn’t say that…
He swallowed as he looked into Dazai’s expectant eyes. “I felt like I wasn’t good enough for you.”
The other man blinked.
“…What?”
Atsushi rushed on. “You were popular, confident, and smart. Everyone admired you. I thought I was just–”
“In the way,” Dazai finished for him, and Atsushi could do nothing but nod defeatedly.
The next moment Dazai stood up slowly, chair scraping softly against the floor.
“Well,” he said pleasantly, “that explains a lot actually.”
He turned slightly away, gaze drifting toward the window.
“I suppose I was naïve…” he went on, and even though his tone was neutral this time, Atsushi felt like he had difficulty breathing. “…to assume my best friend might notice that I was at my worst.”
Atsushi froze.
“That when I joked about not wanting to exist,” Dazai continued calmly, “or stayed awake for days, or didn’t care whether I lived or died, someone might think that was alarming.” He shrugged. “But of course, you were busy feeling inferior.”
He let out a humorless breath.
“Understandable.”
Atsushi’s throat burned. “I–I’m so sorry.”
Dazai exhaled, long and slow.
“Never mind,” he said. “I never actually said any of it outright. One can’t expect people to read minds after all.”
“I should have stayed,” Atsushi whispered. “Last night at least.”
Dazai didn’t answer.
“I bought you something,” Atsushi said suddenly, standing before he could stop himself. “I can’t fix the past, but… I want you to know how much you mean to me.”
Before Dazai could answer, Atsushi was already on his feet, hurrying to the front door with his heart pounding. He dug a small box from his pocket and came back, hands shaking.
He stopped in front of Dazai, suddenly awkward, the box trembling in his grip.
In a quick, almost clumsy motion, he held it out. Dazai took it.
Atsushi held his breath as Dazai opened it.
Inside was a simple bracelet, a worn dark cord with two small charms intertwined, a single word carved into them:
Inseparables
Dazai stared at it.
For a second, he didn’t speak at all.
Then he let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“…You really did–” He stopped himself, breath catching. “No. This is–”
He turned away abruptly.
“Fuck you, Atsushi.”
Atsushi stepped back slightly. “What? W-what for? You don’t like it?”
Dazai lifted a hand, pressing it over his face, fingers tangled in his hair. His shoulders were tight, drawn up as if bracing against something.
“I have every right,” he said, voice strained but controlled, “to stay mad at you longer than this.”
He exhaled sharply, as he laughed, or cursed, Atsushi couldn’t tell. “And you just–” He gestured vaguely toward the box without looking at it. “You just have to give me this.”
He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
Atsushi took a tentative step closer. “I didn’t mean to… I just wanted you to know that I–”
“I know,” Dazai cut in, still hiding his face. His voice softened despite himself, which only seemed to irritate him more. “That’s the problem.”
He went quiet for a moment.
Then he continued, more quietly, “…You’re infuriating.”
Atsushi swallowed. “So… you do like it?”
Dazai didn’t answer.
Instead, he reached out, took the bracelet, and closed his fingers around it like it might disappear if he didn’t.
“…Don’t think this means you’re forgiven,” he muttered.
But he didn’t give the bracelet back.
⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆
Atsushi told Dazai after their unpleasant breakfast that “they should make the house more appropriate for Christmas if they are stuck here,” and reluctantly, the brunet offered the idea of them looking for something festive in the attic.
They found a plastic Christmas tree that smelled faintly of dust and old wood.
It was wedged behind a stack of folded chairs, the box collapsed on one side, the picture on the front so faded it barely resembled a tree anymore. When Atsushi dragged it into the light and opened it, a few stiff plastic branches slid loose and clattered onto the floor.
He stared at the contents for a second. “…well.”
Dazai leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, surveying it with detached interest.
“That’s… impressive,” he said. “In a tragic sort of way.”
Atsushi shot him a look. “It still counts as festive.”
Dazai stepped closer and nudged one of the branches. It drooped immediately.
“I’m not sure it agrees with you.”
Atsushi sighed but knelt anyway, starting to assemble it. The branches resisted, some refusing to click in properly, others angling at odd directions. He frowned in concentration.
After a moment, Dazai crouched beside him with a quiet sigh. “Move.”
“I’m doing just fine,” Atsushi protested.
“You’re emotionally attached to this ugly tree already,” Dazai replied. “I can see you’re about to cry…”
They ended up sitting on the floor together, close enough that their knees nearly brushed once or twice as they tried to make a tree out of a disaster of old plastic sticks. Atsushi noticed how close they were distantly, registered it, and kept going since the earlier bitterness was still present inside him.
When the tree finally stood upright, and they dragged it downstairs, Atsushi was pleased to see that even though it was crooked and sparse, it stood almost like a true Christmas tree.
“It’s not that bad,” he said, turning his head towards the other.
Dazai tilted his head. “It looks like it’s seen things.”
Atsushi smiled faintly. “So have we.”
Something flickered across Dazai’s expression, too fast to catch. He turned away and reached for the box of lights instead.
As Atsushi saw that Dazai was struggling with the untangling procedure, he insisted on helping. But it resulted in him tangling his arm in the knot.
“…it won’t come off.” Atsushi shook his arm irritably.
“How did you even do that to yourself?” Dazai shook his head as he tried to drag the right ends to free the silver-haired man in trouble.
“I’m talented at making myself miserable.” Atsushi snorted, while Dazai just bit back a chuckle at that.
“You are too used to others tying you to their beds, aren’t you?” Dazai asked in a perfectly normal voice as he dragged the lights so that Atsushi had no choice but to move closer to him.
“What?” His eyes widened in return as his brain caught up.
Dazai stared at him with a piercing gaze. Atsushi felt extremely nervous. “I’m just messing with you,” the brunet waved him off. “But you sure have nice women approaching you at university.” He looked Atsushi dead in the eyes again with an intensity that made him go scarlet and speechless.
“N-no, ouch, Dazai!” Atsushi whined as Dazai pulled the wrong end of the lights again. “Why would there be anyone interested in me?”
Dazai stopped in the untangling process and raised one eyebrow.
“What’s with that face?” Atsushi pressed out but started to be very aware of how close they were.
“This face is for stupid questions.”
⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆
After Atsushi was freed and the lights were untangled, Dazai handed him the plug. Their fingers touched for a fraction of a second.
“Thanks,” Atsushi said, evenly.
Dazai hummed in response.
They wrapped the lights around the tree in quiet coordination. Atsushi focused on spacing them evenly while Dazai adjusted the lower branches, his movements chaotic and careless.
At some point, Atsushi glanced sideways. “…Can I ask you something?”
Dazai didn’t look up. “You already are.”
“Yesterday,” Atsushi said slowly, choosing his words carefully, “you were fine with me. You were handing me drinks, joking like nothing was wrong.” He hesitated. “And now you’re... not like that at all.”
Dazai’s hands stilled.
For a moment, his face was completely blank.
Then he smiled, but it was way too neat and polite.
“Well,” he said lightly, “I could pretend everything was fine for one party night. I’d be a terrible host if I ruined the mood, wouldn’t I?”
He resumed adjusting the lights, voice still smooth.
“But now we’re stuck here,” he went on, as if discussing logistics. “Snowed in with no other company than each other.”
He glanced at Atsushi briefly, the smile still there, eyes sharp underneath. “And I can’t pretend for days that everything is fine when it is not true.”
The words landed quietly and cut deeper than Atsuhi would think they would.
“…So are you acting only like this because of what happened after high school? Because of my absence.” Atsushi asked finally.
Dazai didn’t look at him. He secured the wire, then paused.
“Partly,” he pressed out.
Atsushi frowned slightly. “Then what’s the other part?”
Dazai’s hands stilled for a short moment, then instead of answering, he continued.
Atsushi waited, counted the seconds. When nothing came, something sharp pricked at his patience.
“…Alright,” he said, a touch of irritation slipping through again despite himself. “Don’t answer then.”
He hung another ornament with a little more force than necessary.
Dazai stared at him with raised eyebrows. “No need to get passive-aggressive…”
“Really?” Atsushi snapped at him.
“Really…” the brunet rolled his eyes.
Atsushi just huffed.
“I remember you being a nicer company back then,” he added, not quite looking at Dazai.
The other let out a quiet breath. “I’m sorry for being a party pooper.” His words were too light, as he glanced up at Atsushi with a small, apologetic smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll try to be more entertaining.” h
Atsushi shot him a look. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s not?” Dazai asked in fake shock.
He reached for another ornament and held it out. Their fingers brushed briefly as Atsushi took it, neither of them reacting.
Dazai turned back to the tree. “And for what it’s worth,” he added, quieter, “you remembering me as nicer is probably your memory being kind.”
Atsushi hesitated, then said, “I don’t think so.”
Dazai didn’t respond.
But he didn’t make another joke either.
They finished decorating silently. Atsushi handed him a small red ornament, slightly chipped at the edge. Dazai took it carefully and hung it on one of the sturdier branches.
As Atsushi lifted a silver bauble to place higher up, he caught Dazai’s reflection in its curved surface, distorted, upside down, but unmistakably focused on him.
Dazai didn’t look away when Atsushi noticed and looked back at him.
“…What?” He asked quietly.
Dazai blinked, then shrugged. “Nothing worth naming.”
They plugged the lights in.
Warm yellow light flickered on, softening the room, filling the empty corners with brightness. The tree was uneven, sparse in places, but somehow, it still improved the mood.
Atsushi sat back on his heels. “It’s kind of nice.”
Dazai stared at it for a long moment.
“…Yeah,” he said. “It is.”
They stayed seated on the floor.
After a while, Dazai spoke again, quieter.
“No one ever did this with me before.”
Atsushi turned his head. “Decorate a tree?”
Dazai shrugged. “Anything.” His gaze stayed on the lights. “My family was rather distant…”
Atsushi didn’t overthink it. But he shifted slightly closer.
“Well,” he said gently, “I’m glad we could do it together then.”
Dazai let out a breath that might have been a laugh. “Even though I’m not a nice person anymore?” He asked while glancing sideways at Atsushi.
“I didn’t say you are not nice, I said you are not acting nice right now.”
The lights hummed softly. Outside, the snow kept falling.
“…what happened to your family?” Atsushi asked uncertainly.
Dazai’s eyes widened at the question.
“You-you don’t have to answer, I just… I”
“No, it’s fine.” Dazai sighed, then he turned to Atsushi fully. “They died in a car accident this year.”
“Oh…” Atsushi didn’t know what to say. He gulped. “That’s… I’m so sorry, Dazai.” His voice sounded choked.
Dazai just stared at the floor for a moment. “Don’t be, there is nothing I could do about it, so… Sometimes life just… sucks.” He shrugged with a sigh. “It’s not like they ever loved me or anything anyway.” He grimaced as he looked up at Atsushi again.
“This is surely not true.”
“I can understand them actually…” Dazai chuckled bitterly. “It’s not like I’ve ever been lovable or easy to deal with in the first place.”
Atsushi didn’t exactly know why, but hearing Dazai speak like that made him filled with fury, so without thinking, he grabbed Dazai’s hand and leaned closer to him. “Dazai,” Atsushi grabbed his arm without thinking, while the other just blinked at him, surprised.
“You are very much lovable.”
The brunet froze.
Atsushi’s grip tightened, as if afraid Dazai might slip away if he loosened even a little. “You’re annoying,” he continued, breath unsteady but sure. “You’re stubborn, and you push people away.” He sighed tiredly. “You make everything complicated, and sometimes you even say things that hurt and pretend you don’t know how hurtful they are...”
Dazai tried to scoff, but the sound died halfway.
“But,” Atsushi said firmly, leaning closer, “you also care about people. You care more than you ever admit. You make me laugh. You make life feel… better. And you stay even when it would be easier not to.”
His voice softened.
“And if your parents couldn’t see that… that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”
Dazai stared at him like he was something unreal.
Then he shook his head quickly. “I feel like I’m going to vomit reindeer if you keep praising me,” he groaned, covering half his face with the hand Atsushi wasn’t already holding. “Festive, glittery, singing ones.”
Atsushi blinked.
Then his lips curled into a slow smile.
“Oh, I want to see that,” he said with far too much enthusiasm. “So you’re also incredibly smart. And was very kind. And–”
“Shut up,” Dazai muttered, already horrified.
“–and thoughtful, and your eyes are nice, and you’re tall and cool and–”
Atsushi yelped when Dazai lunged forward and clamped a hand over his mouth.
“ENOUGH,” Dazai hissed, leaning in close, eyes wide with panicked disbelief. “Stop it.”
For a second, they just stared at each other.
Atsushi’s laugh broke first, muffled under Dazai’s palm, shaking through his shoulders. Dazai snorted next, trying and failing to hold a straight face, his lips twitching before he finally let out an unrestrained laugh.
He dropped his hand.
“You’re an idiot,” Dazai said, leaning back, voice soft and fond. “A very stupid one.”
Atsushi grinned, bright and unapologetic, while Dazai rolled his eyes dramatically.
⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆
They decided to make gingerbread.
And within the first ten minutes, they’d made a spectacular mess of the kitchen.
Flour dusted the counter, the floor, their sleeves, the air itself. The dough sat lumpy and uneven in the mixing bowl, like it was offended to exist. Atsushi frowned down at it, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed with almost comical seriousness.
“You’re glaring at it,” Dazai observed him lazily. “Is that your strategy?”
“It won’t mix evenly,” Atsushi muttered flustrated.
Dazai leaned over his shoulder. “Oh, I see the problem.”
“What?”
“You’re doing it wrong.”
Atsushi’s eye twitched. “You keep saying that!”
“And I keep being right,” Dazai replied, unhelpfully smug.
Atsushi scowled harder at the dough. “You’re incredibly annoying.”
“Who? The dough?”
“No,” Atsushi shot him with an unimpressed look. “You.”
“So I’ve been told.” Dazai dipped his fingers into the bowl and kneaded in a way that looked suspiciously competent. “But you’re lucky. I make up for it with my irresistible charm.”
“It is very resistible right now,” Atsushi said flatly.
“Sure it is. That’s why you assumed I have a girlfriend.”
Atsushi opened his mouth, then shut it, then huffed and grabbed more flour. He dropped it into the bowl a bit too hard. A puff of white burst upward like an explosion.
Dazai burst out laughing.
Atsushi froze mid-motion, face heating. “Okay,” he said slowly, “shut up.”
“Oh no,” Dazai grinned, “this is incredible. You look like a tragic little bakery ghost.”
“I do not-!”
“You do,” Dazai insisted. “I feel haunted by your culinary incompetence.”
Atsushi sputtered. “I’m doing my best!”
“That’s the concerning part.”
Atsushi’s eyes narrowed. “I really remembered you being not this big of an asshole.”
“Interesting, I remembered you being less dramatic,” Dazai shot back.
“I’m not dramatic.”
“You are very dramatic.” Dazai rolled his eyes.
“At least I’m not insufferable.”
“No, you are just endearing.”
Atsushi faltered.
Dazai smirked, satisfied with himself.
But Atsushi recovered quicker this time.
“Well,” he said, turning back to the bowl with a casual shrug, “someone has to keep things functioning. You clearly can’t. I’ve seen you cook instant noodles wrong when I was sleeping over at your place.”
Dazai went still.
“Excuse me?”
Atsushi didn’t look at him. “Boiled the water, then burned the noodles.”
“That happened once.”
“Twice.”
“You’re lying.”
“I was there.”
Dazai stared at him, then he started laughing.
Atsushi watched him, and he just couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away.
“Alright,” Dazai conceded. “Point to you.”
Atsushi blinked rapidly to bring himself back from the dazed state he was in, and they went back to kneading.
The air felt lighter now. Atsushi smiled to himself a little.
Then he rubbed his cheek without thinking.
Dazai looked at him.
“You’ve got something there,” he said quietly.
“Where?” Atsushi lifted his hand.
Dazai reached out faster. His fingers brushed Atsushi’s jaw, thumb gently swiping across his cheek.
Atsushi gulped once, but strangely, he didn’t feel the need to jump away.
He just stilled.
They stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them saying a thing.
“There,” Dazai said softly then looked at the counter quickly. “Fixed.”
Atsushi swallowed. “…Thanks.”
They still stood closer than it would have been necessary; Dazai was still focused on the counter, and Atsushi was now wringing his hands nervously.
“You always do that,” the brunet murmured.
Atsushi blinked. “Do what?”
“Try,” Dazai said, his voice almost sounding thoughtful. “Even when you’re struggling or something’s fighting you. You just… keep going.”
Atsushi stared at him.
“That’s not a bad thing,” Dazai added quickly. “It’s– you’ve always been like that.”
He hesitated.
Then almost whispered. “It’s one of the reasons I can’t stay mad at you for long.”
It hit like a soft punch into Atsushi’s stomach. His breath caught in his throat.
He looked down in shame.
“…That’s not fair,” he muttered. “You can’t say something like that this casually.”
Dazai let out a faint, tired laugh. “Should I say it more formally?”
“No…” Atsushi snorted while shaking his head.
Dazai cleared his throat with exaggerated dignity.
“In recognition of your relentless persistence, stubborn decency, and infuriating ability to make me soft…”
His lips twitched as he continued.
“…I hereby admit that staying mad at you for any functional length of time is… inconveniently impossible.”
Atsushi just averted his eyes flustered this time. “Very funny…”
Dazai smiled. “Awww my sassy little ghost is touched.”
“Stop calling me that.” Atsushi shot back, but Dazai calling him his made his cheeks go scarlet nevertheless.
“I refuse, flour king.”
They put the cookies into the oven. Warmth spread into the room slowly, carrying the smell of cinnamon, ginger, and sugar in the air.
Dazai leaned back against the counter, arms crossing.
“If these burn,” he said lightly, “I’ll claim I meant to.”
Atsushi nudged him with his elbow. “We won’t burn them.”
Dazai looked at him.
Then exhaled.
“…We better,” he agreed quietly.
They watched the oven silently as the timer ticked on.
⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆
They ended up choosing a romantic comedy mostly because Dazai said it would be entertaining to “study human delusions.”
They were lying on opposite ends of the couch, as Dazai refused to bring extra blankets, so they both lay under one, far from each other.
Halfway through the movie, the leads collapsed dramatically onto a couch as well, legs tangled, arms twisted, bodies folded into something that looked a bit twisted.
Atsushi blinked. “…That looks weirdly comfortable.”
Dazai slowly turned his head to stare at him.
“Comfortable?” he repeated. “They look like a medical chart warning.”
“No!” Atsushi protested. “They’re just close, that’s all. People can lie like that.”
“No, they cannot,” Dazai declared firmly. “Their spine is doing origami.”
Atsushi crossed his arms under the blanket. “It’s possible.”
Dazai arched a brow. “With what anatomy? A detachable ribcage?”
Atsushi scowled. “Human bodies are flexible.”
Dazai hummed thoughtfully. “Mine isn’t that flexible.”
Atsushi paused. “…You’ve never tried,” he muttered.
“Oh?” Dazai’s eyes gleamed. “So you’re saying you could do it?”
“I didn’t say–”
“No, no,” Dazai leaned in slightly, smirk sharpening. “You absolutely did.”
“I just meant it’s not that unrealistic–”
“Right,” Dazai nodded gravely. “You believe in it. In that case…”
He shifted deliberately, patting his chest beneath the shared blanket.
“Prove it.”
Atsushi blinked. “What?”
Dazai smiled sweetly. “You think it’s possible, so demonstrate. Otherwise,” he flicked his gaze to the TV, “the movie wins, and I refuse to lose to a scripted cuddle.”
“That’s not how logic works,” Atsushi muttered.
“So, are you saying I won?”
Atsushi stared.
Then, because he had, unfortunately, pride, and Dazai knew it, he sighed through his nose and carefully shifted closer.
The first seconds were clumsy. Atsushi hesitated with every movement, painfully aware of how close they already were under the blanket.
“This is stupid,” he muttered.
“It is,” Dazai agreed cheerfully. “Continue.”
Atsushi shifted an arm around Dazai’s shoulders the way the actor had. Dazai relaxed into it instantly, which did not help. Atsushi maneuvered his leg between Dazai’s like in the movie, trying not to actually think about it.
They argued far longer than the scene deserved, but it led exactly where Dazai insisted.
Atsushi ended up half draped over him, tangled like the couple on screen. One arm carefully around Dazai’s shoulders. One leg hooked awkwardly with his. Atsushi felt the closeness and his own rapid heartbeat.
He could feel Dazai breathing too.
And then it hit him all at once.
I am cuddling with my high school crush.
My completely unattainable, painfully charismatic, dangerously attractive high school crush.
And he is the one who told me to do it.
His brain promptly short-circuited.
His body froze, stiff but desperately trying not to seem stiff. He swallowed and tried to look normal.
Casual. Totally fine.
Absolutely not about to melt into the couch and die.
“This is stupid,” he muttered weakly.
“It’s research,” Dazai corrected with gentle authority, settling slightly deeper into Atsushi like he belonged there.
That didn’t help.
At all.
The worst part was the way Dazai relaxed against him. Like warmth wasn’t terrifying. Like being held wasn’t a dangerous thing.
His head rested comfortably against Atsushi’s chest, dangerously close to his heartbeat, which was now entirely too loud to be legal.
Atsushi’s mind screamed.
He’s joking. He’s messing with me. He’s always like this.
He is the devil.
The sexy, seductive devil.
He forced himself to breathe.
The movie continued. The couple onscreen shifted closer… and then they kissed.
Dazai made a small sound in his throat.
“Okay,” he said dryly, eyes still forward. “Now that is impossible again.”
Atsushi reacted before he thought.
“No, it isn’t.”
There was a beat of silence.
Dazai slowly looked up at him.
Not with mockery but with interest.
Then he smiled.
A slow, lazy, wicked curve of his mouth, the kind of smile that had always been dangerous back in high school. The kind that meant he had just discovered something highly entertaining, and Atsushi was absolutely doomed.
“Oh?” he purred lightly. “Confident answer.”
Atsushi’s brain immediately wished to resign from existing.
Dazai’s gaze flicked down to Atsushi’s lips for half a second before returning to his eyes.
“Well then,” he murmured, tone coy, almost… amused. “Should we test that too?”
Atsushi stopped breathing.
Words failed him.
Sound failed him.
Reality failed him.
His mind screamed louder.
He’s joking. Obviously, he’s joking. This is Dazai. He lives to torment me.
He’s playing. He’s teasing. He’s–
Dazai tilted his head slightly, still comfortably curled against him, expression all innocence and absolutely zero innocence at the same time.
“Atsushi?” he asked softly. “Hypothesis?”
Atsushi squeaked.
Nothing coherent came out.
Dazai’s smile widened just a shade.
Atsushi kept his gaze on the TV, but his voice slipped out quietly.
“…You joke about kissing too easily.”
Dazai tilted his head slightly. “Do I?”
“Yes,” Atsushi said firmly.
Dazai’s lips curved upwards, but it wasn’t amused, nor sharp this time. It seemed just tired.
“Well,” he said lightly, “we already tested that yesterday anyway, so it doesn’t really matter. Not that you remember, which probably means it wasn’t important enough.”
Atsushi let out the beginning of a laugh.
Then stopped.
Everything inside him froze.
“…That’s not funny,” he whispered.
Dazai didn’t laugh.
“Good,” he said softly. “Because it wasn’t a joke.”
Atsushi went completely still, shock slamming through him so hard he forgot how to breathe.
He kissed Dazai? At the party?
No… no, that couldn’t be right. He had always been absolutely sure Dazai wasn’t interested in him. He would never have forced something like that on him.
“Dazai, this really isn’t funny…” Atsushi frowned at him, though they were still tangled together in that ridiculous cuddling position. “I know you’re messing with me, so enough.”
Dazai sighed, then gently nudged Atsushi away with his elbow so he could sit up, easing himself out of Atsushi’s arms.
“I’ll repeat myself: I’m not joking. But I get the hint. Don’t worry,” he said bitterly, looking at him with a hollow expression. “Sorry I disgust you that much.”
Atsushi’s eyes widened. When Dazai stood, clearly ready to walk away, Atsushi instinctively grabbed his arm. “Wait… I just… I can’t imagine myself doing something like that, even while drunk.”
Dazai looked back at him, face unreadable. “Right. Because sober you would never do it. That’s exactly why I didn’t say anything until now.”
He tried to pull his arm free, but Atsushi stood up too and refused to let go.
“No, Dazai, I just–”
“You just what?” Dazai snapped, finally turning on him, anger flashing in his eyes. Atsushi flinched back. Dazai inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself.
“Let’s be honest, Atsushi… you’ve only ever stayed with me out of pity, haven’t you?” he said quietly, shaking his head.
“No, Dazai–” Atsushi tried, but Dazai didn’t let him speak.
“Poor Dazai, right? The weak kid you had to protect from the bullies… The one who kept threatening to kill himself… The one you had to drag back every time he fell apart.”
His gaze dropped to the floor, voice turning raw.
“It must’ve been exhausting to be my friend. No wonder the moment we weren’t classmates anymore, you finally ran. I can’t really blame you…”
Atsushi could only shake his head, stunned and silent. When Dazai turned to leave again, he grabbed his arm once more, desperately. “No, Dazai, it was never exhausting. I just… I…”
Dazai looked at him sadly as Atsushi struggled with the words.
“I…I fell in love with you. I didn’t mean to; I didn’t want to… You were my best friend. But by the end of high school, I realized I’d wanted more from you for a long time. And it hurt. It hurt so much knowing you’d never feel that way about someone like me… So, I ran. I avoided you, our friends, just because I was so afraid that telling you how I feel would ruin everything.”
For a moment, Dazai just… stopped.
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even seem to breathe. He simply stared at Atsushi like the world had just tilted sideways and refused to right itself again.
Then his lips twitched into something that wasn’t a smile. It wasn’t anything kind.
“…Tsch,” he breathed out. “Don’t. Don’t say things like that just to make me feel better. It’s humiliating.”
Atsushi’s chest tightened. “I’m not–”
“You disappeared for two years,” Dazai snapped, his voice suddenly too loud in the quiet room. “Two. Fucking. Years.” He let out a brittle laugh, one that didn’t sound like him at all. “And the whole time, I thought maybe I was just the idiot. That maybe I was the only one who believed we actually meant something to each other. Do you have any idea how that felt? Do you know how stupid I felt thinking I still mattered to you?”
The words hit like blows. Each one landed directly in Atsushi’s chest and stayed there, heavy and sharp. He swallowed hard, his voice coming out weak and cracked.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But it hurt like hell for me, too. Everyone admired you. Everyone loved you. And no one ever understood why I was always there beside you. Me. The awkward, useless one. I kept thinking I wasn’t enough for you. That staying near you was just… embarrassing you.”
Dazai stared at him. Long enough that Atsushi began to think he’d gone too far.
Then Dazai scoffed softly.
“God, you’re an idiot,” he murmured. His voice trembled despite the sharpness. “You’re an idiot for falling in love with someone like me.”
Atsushi almost laughed, but the sound came out as a shaky breath instead. His heart felt like it was going to break out of his chest.
“That’s the one thing in my life I’ve never felt stupid about,” he said quietly.
Silence fell around them, filled with everything they’d never dared to say.
He didn’t know what Dazai was thinking. He never really did. But for the first time in years, Atsushi didn’t look away. Didn’t hide. His chest hurt, but his voice came out steady.
“You were always… the most important person to me.”
That was when something shattered in Dazai’s expression.
He moved before Atsushi could even process it, hands fisting into his collar like he needed something real to hold on to, something solid, something that wouldn’t disappear if he blinked. Then Dazai pulled him forward and kissed him.
There was nothing careful about it; it was raw desperation.
It felt like falling and being caught at the same time, like every aching, lonely second of the last two years crashing into one single breath. Atsushi froze for half a heartbeat as the reality of it slammed into him.
Then he didn’t think anymore.
He leaned in, heart racing hopelessly fast, as his body simply chose for him and decided letting go would never be an option again.
He kissed Dazai back.
And neither of them let go.
For a moment after the kiss broke, Atsushi wasn’t sure either of them remembered how to breathe.
They stayed close, too close, their foreheads resting together like neither trusted their legs enough to stand properly without the other. Dazai still had his fingers twisted in Atsushi’s collar, knuckles white, as if letting go might undo everything that had just happened. His breath shook against Atsushi’s lips. Atsushi could feel his own trembling, too, but he didn’t move away.
Dazai looked dazed and stunned. Raw in a way Atsushi didn’t think he ever seen him.
Silence pressed around them while they tried to make sense of the world again.
Atsushi’s brain finally sputtered back to life, and because he was, tragically, himself, the first thing to come out of his mouth was simply stupid.
“So… what are the test results?”
For one fragile heartbeat, there was nothing.
Then Dazai let out a sound that broke somewhere between a breath and a laugh. His hand lifted weakly, and he knocked his knuckles lightly against Atsushi’s chest.
“Idiot,” he muttered, but the word came out softer than usual; it was almost fond. “You were my friend for too long. I ruined you.”
Warmth bloomed painfully in Atsushi’s chest at the tone alone.
“Guess you’re stuck with the damage,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he had time to second-guess them.
Dazai didn’t disagree.
Instead, his fingers curled tighter into Atsushi’s shirt, not yanking, just… holding. His voice, when he spoke again, was barely above a whisper. “I’m scared.”
Atsushi swallowed, his own voice rough when it finally came.
“So am I.”
They stayed there, breathing together, heartbeat against heartbeat, neither of them running, neither pretending it hadn’t happened. And when Dazai leaned in again, just slightly, quietly asking instead of demanding.
Atsushi met him halfway.