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Dazai fidgets his fingers impatiently on the prison platform as he and Chuuya wait for their ride from France to Yokohama, which would roughly take 12 to 14 hours, which basically means Dazai has no choice but to trust that the information he gave Rampo will be enough to stall Fyodor from ending the world as they know it.
Chuuya, on the other hand, sits near the edge of the prison rooftop, a hand resting on his chin as his gaze is fixated on his partner, Dazai’s chest is still slightly bleeding and the sight of it makes his skin crawl. There’s no way it all ended up like this. He drowned. Dazai drowned. Dazai broke his leg, and then, of all people, Chuuya was the one who had to shoot him. After everything they survived… It all led to this?
This plan to beat Fyodor at his own game… was it all for nothing? A plan that was barely even a plan, thrown together on a whim because Dazai didn’t even know Chuuya wasn’t actually some brainwashed vampire working for Fyodor.
“I can’t believe this!” he shouts, “I can’t believe this! I can’t believe this! I can’t fucking believe this!”
Dazai lets out an irritated sigh, “Your subordinates are taking their sweet time, are they even alive?”
“Don’t fucking play with that, you bastard!” He snaps, standing up abruptly and grabbing the man in front of him by the collar, “their lives aren’t something to joke about.”
“I know,” Dazai says softly. “That’s why I’m asking.”
Chuuya could feel his breath catching up to his throat, the way his own heart sank at the words the man in front of him had spoken. There’s no way he just said that, the redhead thought to himself.
Dazai Osamu, the person who used to shoot dead bodies as a definition of “fun” at the ripe fucking age of fiftheen years old…the person who would laugh at the face of death or punch a vulnerable 14 year old Akutagawa square in the face for not using his ability the way he wanted—And now here he is, looking at Chuuya like that, like he cares.
Chuuya mentally shakes his head, < i > who is he kidding? That soft, bright look he pretends no one notices has always been there, for the past 7 years. A look that seems to be reserved for a select few. For Oda. For the Agency. For the rare people Dazai never said he trusted, but never let go of either. And, whether Chuuya liked it or not, for him too.
Chuuya’s grip on Dazai’s collar loosens, his fingers still curled in the fabric for a moment before he finally lets go completely. He clicks his tongue and looks away, “you truly are insufferable.”
“Maybe so but, I do hope they are alright,” Dazai straightens his coat where it had been wrinkled, his expression unreadable as his gaze drifts back toward the dark horizon beyond the rooftop, “because if your mafiosos don’t come for us, we lose more than just our ride.”
Chuuya exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair before glancing back at Dazai’s injured self again, “You’re still bleeding, idiot.”
“It’s fine. I’m not dying.” He shrugs, “Unfortunately, that’s the one thing that never works out for me.”
“Usually I’d say you had that coming for being such a whiney bitch” Chuuya grumbles, “But…” he cuts himself off and prompts to shake his head instead, “things have changed.”
Dazai's eyes widened slightly at those words, his facial expression scarily vulnerable. At his silence, Chuuya takes the opportunity to lean forward before he can say anything else, “Hold still.”
Without waiting for permission, he grabs the torn fabric near Dazai’s chest, ripping the loose edge the rest of the way to get a better look at the wound.
Dazai flinches slightly, “You know, most people ask first.”
“Most people don’t get themselves shot and then pretend they’re fine,” Chuuya huffs, inspecting the injury with a deep frown.
He pulls off one of his gloves with his teeth, tossing it aside, then presses his fingers carefully around the wound to check how bad it is, “This is much worse than what you're acting like.”
“It always is.”
Chuuya ignores that, taking the end of his own coat sleeve and tearing a strip of fabric, folding it quickly and pressing it against the bleeding. Dazai sucks in a quiet breath, squirming at the touch.
“Stop moving! You’re lucky I'm tired, which stops me from beating your ass…” Chuuya mutters, tying the cloth firmly around his chest.
He takes a moment to look up at his own handiwork before he speaks up again, "I'll make sure my men take a better look at that wound, but for now this will work,” he then grabs the brunette's arm and wraps it around his shoulder, “I know you can walk, but if you get injured further it wouldn’t do your ADA buddies any good—”
Chuuya pauses to catch his breath, clearly exhausted himself, “Here, sit.” he rasps, aiding Dazai carefully as they sit on the rooftop, “if you need to lean on me that’s fine too, I don’t care.”
Dazai watches him, breathless. His hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous habit he only falls into when he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.
Almost immediately, Chuuya picks up on the look and scowls, “Quit it, Dazai.”
“Quit what?”
“Acting surprised.”
Dazai thinks over Chuuya's response for a second longer than usual, expression unreadable.
“I can hear your thoughts from here, shut the fuck up.” Chuuya snaps, clearly irritated by the lack of reply.
Dazai still doesn't answer.
He prompts to lean on the man's shoulder instead.
Dazai takes a slow breath, basking in his partner's scent. The expensive cologne he drenches himself in, the faint smell of tobacco that never really leaves his hair. His weight settles there naturally, eyes slipping shut as he relaxes against him.
Chuuya doesn't even jump at the contact, he quickly adjusted his posture so that his partner can rest his head fully against him.
Dazai's warm breaths keep grazing Chuuya's collarbone, the feeling of it alone is enough to steady the tension in his chest
After everything that just happened, after that bastard Fyodor managed to outplay them in a way that shouldn’t have been possible, Chuuya finds himself focusing on something much smaller instead.
The weight resting against his shoulder.
“I should’ve broken you out of this shithole sooner,” Chuuya grumbles, “Boss had me running around doing charity work, helping your little ADA friends…but the one I really wanted to help was you.”
At that, Dazai’s lips slightly quiver with an emotion both of them know but refuse to name.
“Maybe if I’d saved your ass sooner,” he continues, “I wouldn’t have been stuck playing dress-up, neither of us would’ve had water in our lungs, you wouldn’t be bleeding out, and we would’ve had more time to deal with Fyodor before everything went to hell.”
“And we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Dazai adds, “which makes whatever happened now a little worth it, don’t you think?”
Chuuya's brows knit together as he looks at Dazai like he’s trying to figure out if he’s joking or not, “You’re completely demented.”
Dazai just hums softly, eyes on the night sky, “Tell me something I don't know.”
A brief silence settles between them, the wind passing over the rooftop in a low gust.
Chuuya exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before speaking again.
“You know everything don't you,” he hisses, “Like the fact you could've died, you absolute imbecile! If I hadn’t caught on to that stupid plan of yours, you could’ve fallen to your death on that damn elevator. And if I really had been a vampire under Fyodor’s control, you would’ve just stood there and let me shoot you.”
Dazai leans closer and pokes his cheek, smiling like he didn’t hear a word, “Aww, Chuuya sounds worried, such a sweet little puppy!”
The latter doesn’t react to the teasing this time. His eyes locked on Dazai with an unamused stare. The silence stretches just long enough to make the point.
The grin on Dazai's face shifts, losing some of its usual carelessness as he slowly pulls away from Chuuya’s shoulder.
“But really…” the brunette says, voice quieter now, tilting his head slightly as he studies him, “It’s not the first time I’ve put my life in your hands. Why is this any different?”
“That was putting your life in my hands?” Chuuya questions, exasperated, “You basically dropped it and assumed I’d catch it, you suicidal piece of shit!”
Dazai blinks at the outburst, genuine confusion flickering across his face.
Chuuya pinches the bridge of his nose before deeply inhaling as an attempt to calm himself, “You said it yourself, you weren’t entirely sure I wasn’t a vampire, and you call that trust?”
“I knew you’d figure it out,” he shrugs.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Chuuya brings his face closer to Dazai’s, forcing him to actually look, “You weren’t sure it was me in there. You said so. So don’t stand there and tell me you trusted me, when you seemed ready to let me pull the trigger anyway!”
“I trusted you enough to bet on it,” Dazai says quietly, “With anyone else, it would be gambling, but with you… it’s the only time I know the odds.”
“I can’t believe you…You—!” Chuuya lets out a frustrated groan, “You shitty, suicidal, piece of shit…! You damn slimy Mackarel!”
Dazai laughs a little, like he already knew that would be the reaction, “well the plan worked, didn’t it?”
“That’s not the point! The point is you were fine with dying if the plan went wrong!”
Dazai shakes his head, “I wasn’t fine with it.”
Chuuya scoffs immediately, “yeah, right.”
“I wasn’t,” Dazai repeats, voice firm. “I just knew you wouldn’t let it happen.”
Chuuya stares at him, shock written all over his face.
Dazai lets out a laugh at the look, “Ah, that face! I wish I could see it more oft—”
The laugh cuts off abruptly.
He sucks in a sharp breath, the movement pulling at the injury in his chest. His shoulders hitch and his hand flies up on instinct, pressing against his ribs. Before he can brush it off, Chuuya’s hands are already on him.
“Idiot, don’t—”
He grabs Dazai by the arm and shoulder to steady him, “I told you to stop moving.”
“Chuuya worries too much!” Dazai breathes out, “I'm fine.”
“That typically means the opposite in the Dazai Osamu language.”
Chuuya keeps one hand on him a second longer than necessary, he wants to make sure he’s actually steady before letting go.
“You really piss me off, you know that?” Chuuya scoffs.
Dazai flashes a proud smile, “I’ve been told.”
Chuuya scoffs and finally pulls his hand back, reaching into his coat to grab his phone, more to break the moment than because he actually wants to check it. The screen lights up with a new message. He scans it quickly, expression settling back into something more controlled.
Dazai watches him from the side, “That look means work.”
“My subordinates,” Chuuya replies shortly, thumb moving across the screen before he locks it again, “They’ll be here in an hour.”
Dazai hums softly, as if the information doesn’t concern him at all, “Plenty of time, then.”
Chuuya shoots him a look, “For what?”
Dazai’s lips curve faintly, “To keep arguing with me.”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting, you never stopped.”
For a moment, neither of them says anything. Then Dazai suddenly lets out a quiet breath that turns into a laugh, soft at first, then a little louder than it should be with his injuries.
Chuuya stares at him like he’s lost his mind…and then, against his will, he snorts.
Dazai has one hand still resting over his ribs as he chuckles, “Think about it… Fyodor could end the world at any minute…”
Chuuya huffs, shaking his head, “And we’re stuck for an hour in a damn prison in France.”
That does it. They both laugh, helplessly, the situation too absurd to ignore.
Dazai winces halfway through but doesn’t stop, covering his mouth as the movement pulls at his chest again, “ow— okay, that was a mistake—”
“I keep telling you not to move, dumbass,” Chuuya says, still smiling despite himself.
He ends up scooting closer to Dazai, “Seriously though,” he mutters, voice calmer now, “we’re in the middle of nowhere, half dead, waiting for backup, and you still found a way to make this annoying.”
The brunette lets out a soft sigh,“what can I say? I had to keep things interesting.”
Chuuya glances sideways at him, then down at the floor, like he’s deciding whether to say something or not.
“Dazai,” he says at last.
“Hm?”
“When I aimed my gun at you… you were saying something.”
Dazai’s smile fades slightly, eyes drifting up toward the night sky instead of at Chuuya.
“Was I?”
“Yeah.”
Chuuya’s voice is quieter now, “I know you were too hurt to be acting back then.”
A small pause.
“Before I cut you off… you said we were destined,” He continues, “Destined for what?”
A pause falls over him, and Dazai’s lips lift into a tentative, almost bashful smile.
“You really want to hear that now?”
“Our ride to Yokohama isn’t here yet. We’ve got time…” Chuuya says, nudging him lightly with his shoulder, “So quit avoiding it.”
Dazai blurts it out, almost too quickly, “We’re destined to be together.”
Chuuya blinks, “and that’s…thats it?”
“What, disappointed?”
“Hm…Well, it’s not in your weird Dazai nature to say things like that without—” Chuuya sighs, “These kinds of things usually follow up with you gagging or something in disgust.”
Dazai goes quiet, but this time he doesn’t look at the night sky. His gaze finds Chuuya, steady and serious. “I was unsure if we would’ve made it down there, Chuuya. It would’ve been a waste… if the last thing you ever heard from me was an insult.”
Chuuya freezes for a mere second before he playfully rolls his eyes, “Hah. Like I had a choice.”
Dazai giggles at that response, “You always have a choice.”
“Yeah.” Chuuya keeps his gaze forward, “Doesn’t mean I’d pick anyone else, though.”
Dazai goes still for a moment, “that’s quite a romantic statement, Chuuya.”
“Don’t make it weird, you bandaged freak.”
The brunette slowly shifts closer to Chuuya on the rooftop floor, his injured leg dragging slightly against the concrete.
Chuuya notices immediately, “Oi! Don’t move like that, dumbass! your leg—”
Before he can finish speaking, Dazai leans forward.
His arms come up loosely around Chuuya’s shoulders, his face resting against the side of Chuuya’s neck.
Dazai lets out a quiet exhale, warm against Chuuya’s skin. “Chuuya is always saying the strangest things,” he murmurs.
“Dazai,” Chuuya rasps out, unsure whether he’s warning him or just saying his name.
“Let me have this, you slug” he purrs, his voice vibrating against Chuuya’s collarbone, “When I didn’t know if we were going to make it out of there… I kept thinking the worst.”
Dazai’s grip around Chuuya got tighter as he uttered the next words, “I thought I’d never get the chance to hold you like this again.”
Chuuya pauses, his body going stiff against him, “Did I actually hit you in the brain?” he mutters, “Did the bullets scramble your head or something? And you have the nerve to say I’m the one who says weird things…”
The brunette chuckles a little at that “Well, considering the world might end tonight,” he clears his throat, “I think it’s a rather fitting time to say them.”
“And what if the world doesn’t end?” Chuuuya asks, “Would you even be able to live with what you just said… or would you have preferred leaving me to drown instead?”
Dazai ignores the comment, continuing as if he hadn’t heard it, “For a moment, I really thought I was going to lose you,” he sighs, pulling back just enough to look at him, “Part of me knew that even as a vampire, your ability would break through that water chamber… but when you came back, alive—”
He gives a small, pathetic chuckle, “It’s been a while since my heart raced like that.”
And now, it’s Chuuya’s heart that's beating fast as he pulls away just enough to look at him properly, then lifts a hand and cups the side of Dazai’s face, “I did have a few doubts too, but putting my life on the line for you? That has never been one of them.”
A dumbfounded smile found its way to Dazai’s features, moving his hands to place them on his waist, pulling him closer, “I know. That’s why I hate you so much.”
Chuuya snorts at that, “I fucking hate you too, slimy bastard."
They stayed like that for a while, Dazai pressed on Chuuya’s collarbone. The redhead shifts suddenly and presses a small, quick kiss to the top of Dazai’s head.
He didn’t really think about what he’d just done, moments like this tend to only slip through their violence, revealing itself when their blood is spilled and neither of them can pretend not to care.
Dazai goes completely still at the contact. His hands tighten slightly where they rest at Chuuya’s waist, and he lets out a quiet breath against his shoulder, “A few minutes alone with me and you’re getting quite bold.”
“Shut up,” Chuuya replies automatically, “You looked like you were about to pass out.”
Dazai hums softly, tilting his head just enough to the side. Then he leans in closer without warning. His lips brush lightly against Chuuya’s neck, pressing a brief, warm kiss there.
The redhead stiffens immediately, “Hey…!”
Dazai pulls away to take in his partner's expression, “What?” he says, letting out a quiet, incredulous laugh, “You started it.”
Chuuya presses his mouth into a thin line, not knowing how to answer. Yet before Dazai can say anything else, Chuuya grabs the front of his coat and pulls him forward. Capturing his lips in a sudden kiss.
Chuuya’s own mind is racing at his own action. All these years of trying to ignore the magnetic pull this bastard had on him, and now he’s giving in. His heart was beating out of his chest and his head felt light at the process, yet he only leaned further, sinking his mouth into his partner’s.
Dazai lets out a small, surprised sound against his mouth before quickly melting into the kiss, one hand coming up instinctively to steady himself against his partner's side.
The small, desperate sounds slipping from Dazai only encourage Chuuya to keep going, his fingers threading into the brunette's hair as he leans in deeper.
The kiss breaks away slowly, their lips hovering close before the redhead finally pulls back a few centimeters, still holding onto him.
Chuuya’s eyes narrow slightly, like he’s waiting for the inevitable teasing remark. To his surprise however, he’s met with the sight of tears welling in Dazai’s eyes.
“Dazai?” he asks gently, “what's wrong?
Dazai doesn’t answer right away. He only shakes his head once. Chuuya was convinced that Dazai might pull back, laughing it off like he always does.
He doesn’t.
Instead, his hand tightens in the front of Chuuya’s coat and he leans in again, closing the distance without warning.
Dazai kisses him with a craving that he has had buried deep inside himself since he was fifteen. He kisses him with a need that equates to the way his lungs need oxygen. It’s a raw, disgustingly vulnerable feeling that he could only communicate through this act.
His other hand comes up to the side of Chuuya’s face, fingers trembling slightly as he holds him there, thumb brushing his cheek like he needs the contact to be sure he’s real.
Chuuya responds to it immediately, his hand comes up to grab Dazai by the shoulder to keep him from collapsing forward with how hard he’s leaning in despite the injuries. The brunette lets out a small, breathless whine as Chuuya steadies him.
Then he tastes salt. For a split second he doesn’t understand, his mind still caught in the moment, until he pulls back just enough to see the tears slipping down Dazai’s face.
Dazai’s crying now, fully crying. Chuuya’s heart clenches at the sight, pressing his forehead against Dazai’s.
“Hey,” he says shakily, “we don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to, okay? I’m sorry if this isn’t what—”
But the brunette cuts him off, crashing his lips into Chuuya’s, his quivering hands tangling in the red strands beneath his fingers.
Dazai pulls back just enough to whisper, “You may never want to do this with me again… so I’ll take what I can get.”
Chuuya blinks at him for a moment, stunned by the raw scene before him. Then, without hesitation, he cups the side of Dazai’s face, thumb brushing over the wet cheek, and leans in, pressing a slow, steady kiss to his lips.
“You are a fucking dumbass, Dazai Osamu” Chuuya’s eyes remain locked on his partner’s, “I haven’t let go of you for years. What makes you think I’d start now?”
Dazai whimpers faintly against him, the sound trembling between pleasure and disbelief. His grip tightens as he pulls him closer, fingers curling into the fabric at his back.
Chuuya moves to cradle the back of his head, tilting him up slightly to explore his mouth further. He swallows Dazai’s cries, his moans of pleasure, his trembling breaths, deliciously soaking in the sensations like something he’s been starved of for years.
“I’ve been waiting for this too,” Chuuya whispers between kisses, his voice breaking slightly.
Dazai gasps, a small, broken sound, and melts further into Chuuya’s hold. Chuuya allows this, letting Dazai press into him fully, his trembling body leaning heavier against the latter’s warmth.
Chuuya’s lips brush over Dazai’s temple, then his jaw, lingering to communicate how much he wanted this. Shivers, breathless gasps, and quiet tears are met with Chuuya’s soft sighs and murmured breaths, forming a steady rhythm between them.
As Chuuya slowly pulls back, his eyes linger on Dazai’s figure—catching the slight tremble of his lips, the way his fingers grip lightly at Chuuya’s jacket, and the uneven rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to steady his breathing.
Dazai finally lets out a quiet laugh, softer than usual, his shoulders sagging in relief as if he’d been holding his breath for far too long. “Hah… you always—” he starts, voice breaking slightly, “you always manage to knock my breath away whether it's a kick, punch, or a kiss.”
Chuuya’s lips twitch into a small, almost amused smile, his hands coming up to comb through Dazai’s hair, “Guess I just have a talent for it.”
Dazai huffs faintly, “Well, yeah, considering you kissed me first!”
“You kissed my neck first, you sneaky slug!”
“That doesn’t count!”
He narrows his eyes at Dazai, ready to argue more, but the words don’t come out right away.
Dazai’s voice is quieter when he speaks again, “You’ve waited for years, huh?”
Chuuya rolls his eyes, “Shut up.”
“You know,” the brunette mutters, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, “if the world really does end tonight, I’m glad we spent the last hour kissing instead of arguing.”
Chuuya lets out a short laugh through his nose, “Hah. Yeah. Two idiots making out in France while the world’s about to collapse.”
“Very romantic setting.”
The redhead rolls his eyes, “Don’t push it.”
Suddenly, the wind moves across the rooftop, carrying distant mechanical noise from below. Chuuya’s expression shifts slightly as he glances toward the edge of the roof, eyes narrowing as he listens.
“My subordinates, they’re here.”
Dazai exhales quietly, “Shame, I was starting to enjoy the apocalypse.”
Chuuya lets out an exasperated sigh, pushing himself to his feet and dusting off his coat like nothing unusual just happened.
“C’mon,” he huffs, “We’ll do way more than just kissing when the world’s back in order.”
Dazai pauses halfway through getting up, blinking at him like he’s not sure he heard that right, “So there will be another time?”
Chuuya freezes for half a second, blood rushing to his cheeks, “Tch— that’s not what I meant.”
Dazai’s smile slowly spreads, smug and far too pleased.
“Oh? Was I really that good of a kisser? Chuuya sounds pretty eager… I’m honored.”
“I’ll throw you off this rooftop!”
“So you’re planning for the future now? How thoughtful. I thought this was going to be more of a one-night-stand situation!”
Chuuya grabs his arm to haul him up before he can keep talking, a little rougher than necessary, “I’m planning for you to not bleed out before we get back to Yokohama.”
Dazai leans slightly against him, voice quieter now, “But there will be another time, right?”
Chuuya rolls his eyes and slings Dazai’s arm over his shoulder so he can walk properly, “Yeah,” he mutters, "preferably when the world isn’t ending.”
Dazai smiles, faint but real, letting his head tilt slightly toward him as they head for the exit, “Then I guess we’d better save it.”
“Don’t say it like you weren’t going to do that anyway.”
“I wasn’t sure until you promised me a kiss… actually, scratch that. You said we’d do a lot more than that. Now I’m definitely motivated.”
“Stay alive first, dumbass. Then you can start worrying about what happens later.”
Dazai lets out a quiet laugh, leaning a little more against him on purpose, “That sounds like a date.”
“More like an act of brutality.”
”Same thing,” Dazai shrugs,”at least for us.”
They reach the bottom of the stairs, the cold night air hitting them again as the doors open to the yard where the headlights of the approaching vehicle cut through the darkness.
Dazai glances toward the lights, then sideways at Chuuya, “Hey.”
“What now?”
“When this is over,” he says, voice low, “We won’t pretend nothing happened, right?”
Chuuya slows his step just a little, but doesn’t stop walking, “You mean the part where you almost got yourself killed, or the part where you wouldn’t shut up for 45 minutes straight?”
“The part where you kissed me.”
Chuuya clicks his tongue, looking away toward the car, “Tch. You kissed me back.”
They reach the gate just as the vehicle stops in front of them, the headlights washing over both of them completely now. Dazai lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh, then carefully slides into the seat, one hand bracing against the doorframe so he doesn’t put too much weight on his leg.
Chuuya follows right after him, climbing in and shutting the door with a dull thud. The car starts moving the moment they’re inside, tires crunching over the gravel before the prison disappears behind them.
Dazai leans back against the seat with a quiet exhale, his head tilting slightly toward the window, eyes half-closed from exhaustion more than anything else.
Chuuya glances toward the front seat, making sure the subordinate’s attention is on the road, then shifts a little closer under the excuse of steadying Dazai so he doesn’t slide with the movement of the car.
“Don’t pass out on me,” he whispers softly.
“I’m not—” Dazai starts, voice weak, but he doesn’t finish.
Chuuya leans in just slightly, the movement small enough that it looks like he’s only checking on him. Instead, he presses a quick, chaste kiss against Dazai’s cheek.
Chuuya pulls back immediately, clearing his throat like nothing happened, “Stay awake.”
Dazai freezes for half a second, eyes opening slowly like his brain needs a moment to catch up with what just happened.
“You did that on purpose,” he whispers.
Chuuya doesn’t look at him, “You were about to fall over.”
“That’s not medical treatment.”
“Stop talking.”
Dazai’s mouth curves faintly, “I thought that we’d wait until the world wasn’t ending.”
Chuuya crosses his arms, “That one didn’t count.”
“Consider it first aid”
Dazai laughs and it quickly turns into a small wince, “Then I might need more treatment later.”
“Save the world first, idiot.”
The brunette nods at that, placing his head on Chuuya’s shoulder, “wake me when we get to the helicopter, so that I have time to think of a plan to stop Fyodor,” he slurs out, "I have people back there to save…” His voice lowers near the end, almost fading out completely from exhaustion.
“I know.” Chuuya murmurs, more to himself than to Dazai
He adjusts his posture a little so Dazai doesn’t slide when the car turns, one hand coming up to grip the front of his coat and hold him steady against his shoulder. His breathing has evened out, slow and heavy.
Chuuya glances down at him for a moment, then looks away again toward the dark road ahead.
“You absolute scumbag,” he says softly.
A short pause.
“You better wake up before we get there,” he scoffs,“I’m not explaining to everyone why their genius strategist died on my watch.”
Dazai doesn’t answer, only shifts with the next turn of the car, his body instinctively leaning even closer to Chuuya’s.
Chuuya sighs, but he doesn’t push him away. Instead, he places a protective hand over Dazai’s lap.
“And you owe me another kiss,” he adds under his breath, almost annoyed at himself for saying it.
The redhead lets out a quiet, airy laugh, shaking his head as he says the next words.
“Don’t make me wait another seven years.”