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The rain in the Gentle Forest didn't just fall; it hunted. It seeped into chuuya's silver armor, turning his heavy cloak into a sudden weight that dragged at his shoulders.
"If you sigh one more time," Chuuya hissed while grunting at the same time, "I will leave you to the wolves. I swear it on my stolen daggers and guns."
Dazai didn't turn around. For the first time even he didn't have the energy. "We are in this position because you decided to pick-pocket a High Mage, stupid Dazai. only if you had used those last two suicidal braincells of yours, we wouldn't even have to be in this position." Chuuya exclaimed with frustration, he was tired and exhausted and extremely sleep deprived to the point where he genuinely coudn't take it anymore.
"He had a very shiny belt," dazai retorted, trying to give an idiotic grin, though his voice lacked its usual bite and cheekiness. He was wet and shivering, a rhythmic tremor that chuuya could hear even over the downpour of the rain.
After another hour of walking through the muck, they had found it, god, finally, a huntsman’s shack, abandoned and rotting with the most awful stench ever, but blissfully dry. "See! i told you it'd be here slug!",Dazai spoke still lacking his usual bark. Inside, the air smelled of old socks and dust. There was no firewood, no food, and only one small bed with a moth eaten blanket in the corner.
Chuuya took off his gauntlets with a metallic clink, saw Dazai shuddering and sighed, his knuckles white. "You take the bed. I’ll keep watch by the door.", he rolled his eyes.
Dazai let out a sharp, jagged ,maybe sardonic laugh. "Don't be a martyr, stupid slug. You're turning blue, If you freeze to death, I have no one to carry my bags when the guards find us." Dazai batted his lashes, kicked off his boots and crawled onto the single bed, pulling the thin, dusty blanket up to his chin. Dazai hesitated, then shifted toward the wall, leaving a sliver of space. He hesitated, knowing the dumb slug, he would rather die than sleep in a bed next to him.
Chuuya froze, his heart hammered in his chest. This was the person who he had been forced to be partnered together with. This was the person who had tripped him into a fountain, in the capital, just to see the look on his face. No wayy, no fucking way, was dazai really a softie from inside all this time?
Slowly, with the clunk of heavy boots, chuuya sat on the edge of the tiny bed. The mattress dipped.
"You're thinking too loud," dazai whispered. The bravado was now gone, replaced by the raw, quiet vulnerability of the middle of the night.
Chuuya laid down, as stiff as a board, facing the opposite direction, obviously. But the bed was still too small. His back pressed against Dazai’s, anxiety pooling in his stomach for some reason. It was the first time they had ever touched without a weapon between them. and it was awkward as fuck.
"I don't hate you," Dazai confessed in the dark room, with not even a candle lit, the words feeling like a betrayal of their vows and years together.
There was a long silence. Then, Chuuya moved, sitting up a bit.
"I know," he murmured, his face in his hands as his voice muffled. "That’s always been the problem, hasn't it?"
Dazai turned around more, to face him even in the dark.
Very slowly, chuuya tucked his cold forehead against the space between Dazai's shoulder blades.
Outside, the storm raged. Inside, the silence was much louder.