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Dazai was beginning to suspect that Chuuya was acting strangely. This was saying something; Chuuya was strange by default. He's loud. Aggressive. Easily provoked. Prone to making terrible decisions whenever Dazai was involved. This was...different. Dazai wasn't entirely sure how, only that he'd noticed it a few weeks ago and hadn't been able to stop noticing since.
The Flags were gathered in one of their usual meeting spots after a mission, Albatross was talking; he was always talking. Not that Dazai minded. Albatross could hold a conversation with a brick wall if left unattended for too long. It was a useful skill.
"...and then he actually tried to tell me it wasn't his fault," Albatross was saying.
"I'd like to hear his side of the story," Piano Man said.
"There isn't another side."
"There always is," He argued.
"There really isn't."
Dazai only half listened. He was sitting on a worn sofa with one leg thrown over the other, absently turning a pen between his fingers. Chuuya was staring at him. Again. Dazai had noticed that recently, too-the staring. Typically whenever Chuuya thought nobody was looking, which was ridiculous; Dazai always noticed when people were looking at him. It came with the territory. Most people watched him for a reason. Fear. Curiosity. Calculation. Chuuya just stared. The moment their eyes met, Chuuya looked away. Suspicious.
A few minutes later, Chuuya moved...towards Dazai. He watched him approach. Chuuya sat down beside him. Very closely. Their shoulders almost touched. Dazai stared at him. Chuuya stared resolutely ahead. Even the tips of his ears looked slightly pink. Something was definitely wrong, He just hadn't figured out what yet. Perhaps Chuuya was planning something. That seemed likely...Chuuya's plans tended to involve violence. Dazai supposed he should remain vigilant.
The conversation continued. Albatross had somehow moved on to motorcycles. Lippmann was laughing. Piano Man looked tired, nothing unusual there. Beside him, Chuuya shifted. Then shifted again...then shifted a third time. Dazai glanced over super nonchalantly. Chuuya immediately looked away.
Even more suspicious.
What followed was perhaps the least convincing yawn Dazai had ever witnessed. Chuuya inhaled, paused, then produced a sound that vaguely resembled someone attempting to impersonate a tired person. Dazai blinked once. Chuuya stretched. (Or appeared to.) One arm lifted, shoulders rolling. And then, his arm dropped across Dazai's shoulders. Total silence. At least for Dazai. Albatross was (still) talking, someone laughed, and a glass clinked. Dazai heard none of it. His attention was entirely occupied by the arm currently draped across him. Chuuya was staring straight ahead, very straight. (Wrong) Unnaturally so, like a man awaiting execution. Dazai looked at him, Chuuya did not look back.
"...anyway, that's why I think motorcycles are superior," Albatross finished.
"That wasn't your original point," Piano Man said.
"It became my point."
"That's not how conversations work."
"It worked, didn't it?"
Beside Dazai, Chuuya remained perfectly still. He considered the situation reasonably like a reasonable person; there were several possible explanations. Perhaps Chuuya was attempting to annoy him-a classic choice. Though if that was the case, he usually announced it beforehand.
...Perhaps Chuuya had suffered a head injury during the mission. That would explain certain things. Perhaps-
Dazai glanced sideways. Chuuya's expression was carefully neutral. His arm remained exactly where it was. Deliberately placed.
"Chuuya."
The reaction was immediate, Chuuya nearly jumped. "What??"
"You seem tense," he noted.
"I'm not tense."
"You look tense."
"I don't."
"You do."
"...no"
Dazai smiled. "You do."
Chuuya elbowed him. Hard. That, at least, was familiar; Dazai felt oddly reassured by it.
The arm stayed where it was. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. He stopped keeping track after that. At some point Dazai stopped expecting Chuuya to move it. Strange. Because he should probably be annoyed. He wasn't. Chuuya was in his personal space. Invading it, really. Dazai generally disliked being touched, and most people knew better than to try. Yet somehow he wasn't annoyed. In fact-well. That wasn't important. Eventually Chuuya seemed to realize he had trapped himself, the confidence he'd started with had long since vanished. His arm had to be uncomfortable by now. Dazai could practically see the internal debate taking place: Move and make it obvious. Or stay and suffer. A difficult choice.
Dazai decided to be kind. For once.
"Your arm's probably asleep."
Chuuya froze.
"It isn't."
"It definitely is."
"Shut up."
The tips of his ears were red again. Actually, the entirety of his face was red. A few seconds later, Chuuya finally withdrew his arm, far more quickly than he'd put it there, like he'd touched a hot stove.
Hm.
Later that night, Dazai found himself staring at the ceiling of his apartment. This was unfortunate; he usually preferred not thinking. Thinking often led to more thinking. For some reason, he kept remembering the feeling of Chuuya's arm around his shoulders. The warmth, the weight, the awkward determination with which Chuuya had kept it there. Dazai rolled onto his side, and closed his eyes.
...It definitely didn't mean anything.
♡
This was a terrible idea. Chuuya knew it was a terrible idea. He had known it was a terrible idea three days ago when he'd first seen the stupid thing sitting in a shop window. Unfortunately for him, knowing something was a terrible idea had never stopped him before. It wasn't even a particularly impressive object, nothing that could decapitate enemies or anything, Just a tiny metal crab attached to a keychain. That was it. No practical purpose. A crab.
The problem was that the moment Chuuya saw it, he'd immediately thought of Dazai-not because Dazai particularly resembled a crab! That would have been easier to explain. It was something about the expression on its tiny smug little metal face. Annoying. Difficult to get rid of. At first, Chuuya had walked right past it, like a normal person...then he'd doubled back. Stared at it, stared some more, bought it, and spent the last three days questioning every decision that had led him to this point.
Now the keychain was sitting in his pocket. Mocking him. This was Dazai's fault, probably.
"Dazai."
Dazai looked up from whatever book he'd stolen this time, a lock of dark hair slipping across his forehead as he lifted his head. His eyes found Chuuya immediately.
"Hm?"
...Chuuya's confidence immediately abandoned him. He'd had a plan. A simple one. A good one. He was going to hand over the keychain and say "Saw it and thought of you."
Normal. Casual.
Unfortunately, Dazai was looking directly at him. His eyes were annoyingly large. He hated that about him, likely because they rendered him unable to speak. He shoved a hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the keychain, then almost left it there. Then pulled it out anyway.
"...here."
Smooth.
Dazai blinked, then looked down at the object Chuuya had practically shoved into his hands.
"A thing," the words left Chuuya's mouth before he could stop them.
...
Dazai looked at the keychain. Then at Chuuya. Then back at the keychain.
"A thing," he repeated.
"Yeah."
"What kind of thing?"
"A keychain."
"I can see that."
"Then why'd you ask?" Chuuya questioned, not defensively or anything.
The corner of Dazai's mouth twitched. Chuuya immediately regretted looking. The smile wasn't even particularly special; Dazai smiled all the time. Usually right before causing problems. Still, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled like that. There were dimples in his cheeks, too. Chuuya hated them. It was distracting.
"Why are you giving this to me?" Dazai asked.
Ah. There was the question he should have prepared for. Instead of doing so, he'd spent most of the morning wondering whether the keychain looked too much like a gift.
Idiot.
"Because." Excellent start.
Dazai waited. Chuuya wished he wouldn't do that, he had a habit of simply standing there while people embarrassed themselves.
"it looked stupid."
"...it looked stupid?" Dazai repeated dumbly.
"Yeah."
"So you bought it for me."
"Yeah."
Dazai looked down at the tiny crab resting in his palm, long fingers turning it over carefully.
"Oh."
For some weird reason, Chuuya's stomach flipped. It was probably organ failure.
"Oh?"
Dazai asked. The dimple was still there, stubbornly enough. Chuuya looked away like a cowardly coward.
"You're weird," Osamu informed him, dazaily.
"Go die."
The conversation should have ended there. It didn't. Dazai kept looking at the stupid keychain. This was unfortunate. Everything involving Dazai was unfortunate.
A few minutes later, Albatross wandered into the room, stopping beside the sofa and glancing between them.
"What's that?"
Before Chuuya could stop him, Dazai held up the keychain. "Chuuya bought me a gift."
Chuuya nearly dropped dead on the spot.
"It isn't a gift."
"It looks like a gift."
"It isn't."
"You bought it for him."
"..."
Albatross laughed. Even worse, Dazai still looked amused. Chuuya wanted everyone in the room to disappear, preferably himself first.
"It was a joke," he muttered.
"A very thoughtful joke," Albatross said.
"It wasn't thoughtful."
"You spent money on it."
"It wasn't expensive."
"You thought of Dazai when you saw it."
Chuuya froze. Albatross froze. Dazai froze, too. Together they could star in Frozen.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"That's not what I meant."
Albatross immediately started laughing. Dazai...looked like Dazai. Chuuya hated them both.
Eventually he escaped, with little grace, but with much haste. Unfortunately, escaping didn't stop him from thinking about it. Later that night, he found himself lying awake in bed. Again; this was becoming a pattern...Maybe Dazai had hated it. Maybe he'd thrown it away already. Maybe he'd laughed about it after Chuuya left. The thought made something unpleasant twist in his chest. He tried to ignore it. It refused to go away.
...Stupid. It was just a keychain. Just a stupid little crab. Chuuya rolled onto his side and buried his face in his pillow. He'd never bought anyone a gift before. Not for no reason. The realization was deeply unhelpful.
Across Yokohama, completely unknown to Chuuya, Dazai sat at his desk, a book lay open in front of him. He wasn't reading it. Instead, he was turning a small metal crab over in his fingers. The lamplight glinted softly against the silver metal. Eventually he placed it carefully beside the book, right where he could see it. Then he glanced at it once more, a faint smile tugging at his mouth, and reached a perfectly reasonable conclusion: Chuuya was weird.
...It definitely didn't mean anything.
♡
Dazai wasn't entirely sure why everyone made such a fuss about injuries, they happened. It was almost as if that was like, the nature of the job. Granted, he was currently bleeding onto the floor, but only a little bit. The cut wasn't particularly deep. It stretched across his forearm where a blade had caught him during a mission, unfortunately not fatal. He considered this as he pushed open the door to one of the Port Mafia's lounges. The room was occupied. Albatross was talking: a familiar sight. Piano Man looked tired: an even more familiar sight. Lippmann was reading. Chuuya was sitting on the back of a sofa with one foot propped on the cushions. The moment Chuuya looked up, his expression changed. Dazai almost missed it.
His eyes dropped immediately to Dazai's arm, then narrowed, the easy boredom vanishing from his face.
"What happened?"
Dazai glanced down at his arm. "Oh, this?"
"Yeah, that." Chuuya hopped off the sofa, his boots hitting the floor with a dull thud. "You call that 'this'?"
"I wasn't feeling particularly creative."
The look Chuuya gave him suggested violence-a reassuring development.
Then Chuuya grabbed his wrist. His hand was warm. "Hold still."
"I'm literally standing still."
Chuuya turned his arm slightly, examining the cut. His grip tightened, just enough to keep Dazai from pulling away. His freckles stood out sharply against skin that looked a little more tanned after the summer months, this close. A faint crease appeared between his brows.
Interesting.
"...It's deeper than I thought."
Dazai leaned slightly to look. Chuuya immediately shoved his shoulder.
"Stop that."
"I wanted to see."
"You already know what it looks like."
"I forgot."
"You're impossible."
Dazai smiled, and for some reason, this only made Chuuya look more annoyed. The crease between his brows deepened.
"Did you at least clean it?"
"Why would I?" he responded. Chuuya stared, Eventually he sighed. The sound carried the weight of someone dealing with a particularly troublesome child, which, rude.
"Sit down."
"No."
"Sit down."
"No."
Chuuya's eyes narrowed. Dazai sat down. Sometimes life involved making difficult choices.
A first-aid kit materialized somehow, and Dazai wasn't entirely sure where it came from. One moment it hadn't existed; the next Chuuya was kneeling in front of him with it open beside his leg. The position felt oddly strange...not unpleasant. Chuuya rolled up his sleeve another inch, his fingers brushed against Dazai's skin.
Dazai stilled. Chuuya didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he ignored it. His entire focus was fixed on the injury.
"Idiot." The insult lacked its usual heat. The room around them had gone quieter. Albatross was watching openly. Lippmann had lowered his book. Piano Man looked amused.
Traitors, all of them.
"Does it hurt?" Chuuya asked.
The question slipped out so naturally that neither of them seemed to realize what he'd said at first, then Chuuya paused.Dazai looked at him. Chuuya looked away.
The silence stretched.
Then Albatross made a noise suspiciously similar to someone choking. "Does it hurt?" he repeated.
Chuuya's head snapped around, "Literally end your life." Albatross immediately looked delighted.
"You asked if it hurt."
"I know what I asked."
"You sounded worried."
"I'm not worried."
Dazai tilted his head. "You did sound worried."
Chuuya looked horrified. It was wonderful. The bandage wrapped around Dazai's arm a little tighter than necessary.
"Ow."
"Good."
There he was. Dazai felt oddly relieved.
Eventually Chuuya stood, the crisis had passed. Dazai glanced down at his arm. The bandage was neat and careful. Far more careful than Chuuya usually pretended to be. Later that night, Dazai found himself sitting at his desk. His gaze drifted to the small metal crab sitting beside the book. Then to the fresh bandage wrapped around his arm. Chuuya had looked upset. Not angry. Upset. The memory lingered.
What happened?
Dazai rested his chin against his hand, thinking. Chuuya had put an arm around his shoulders. Chuuya had bought him a gift.
...It definitely didn't mean anything.
♡
Chuuya liked spending time with Albatross; this was normal. Albatross was easy to be around. He talked enough for three people, laughed loudly, and could somehow turn any conversation into a discussion about motorcycles. It was impressive, honestly.
"...and then I told him if he touched my bike again I'd kill him."
"Reasonable."
"Right?"
"Completely."
Albatross beamed. See? Easy.
The two of them were sitting on the hood of a parked car outside one of the Port Mafia's buildings. The afternoon sun was warm on his face. For once, nobody was trying to kill them: a rare occasion. Albatross was halfway through a story involving several deeply questionable decisions when he suddenly stopped talking. Chuuya frowned, confused. That was...unusual.
"What?"
Albatross blinked. Then looked over Chuuya's shoulder. He turned around to see that Dazai was standing behind them. The dark coat hung loosely from his shoulders, he had one hand resting in his pocket. The afternoon light caught against his dark hair. His expression was perfectly neutral.
"Hey, Dazai," Albatross said cheerfully.
Dazai smiled, small and polite. It was the kind that usually meant trouble. "Albatross," He nodded. "Chuuya."
Chuuya narrowed his eyes. Dazai smiled wider.
"What are you doing?" Dazai asked.
"We're talking."
"I can see that," then he paused, "...What about?"
Albatross blinked. "So..." He looked at Chuuya. Then at Dazai. Then back at Chuuya.
"...motorcycles?"
Dazai hummed, the sound somehow felt judgmental. A few minutes later, Dazai was still there. The problem was, he wasn't participating in the conversation. He wasn't leaving, either. He was simply present, like an unusually tall, unusually annoying shadow. Albatross continued his story. Chuuya listened. Dazai lingered. Every now and then Chuuya caught him staring. Not at Albatross. At him.
The realization made his cheeks flush, reminiscent of a tomato. Dazai would notice he'd been caught. And smile. The stupid dimples would appear.
Eventually Albatross jumped down from the car.
"Come look at this."
Before Chuuya could ask what he meant, Albatross had already grabbed his wrist and started pulling him toward a motorcycle parked nearby.
"Albatross-"
"Trust me."
Chuuya sighed. Trusting Albatross generally led to problems, still, he followed. The motorcycle was, admittedly impressive. For the next several minutes, Albatross enthusiastically explained various details Chuuya only half understood. At some point he threw an arm around Chuuya's shoulders. Chuuya barely noticed. Unfortunately, someone else did. Across the lot, Dazai was watching. Chuuya looked over. Dazai looked away.
That almost never happened...Strange.
"What're you looking at?" Albatross asked.
Chuuya immediately snapped his attention back. "Nothing."
Albatross followed his gaze and grinned.
Oh no.
"What?"
"Ohhhh."
Chuuya felt immediate dread.
"Don't."
"I'm not saying anything."
"You are absolutely about to say something."
Albatross laughed, and before Chuuya could interrogate him further, Dazai appeared. Again. Like he'd materialized from thin air.
"Hello."
Chuuya nearly jumped. "Jesus Christ."
"That's not my name."
Albatross laughed harder. Dazai looked pleased with himself. The stupid dimple was back and Chuuya's life was terrible.
"What are you two doing?" Dazai asked.
"Looking at a motorcycle."
"I see."
"...It doesn't seem that interesting."
Albatross genuinely gasped like a cringefailloser, and Dazai smiled. Albatross continued looking personally offended. Chuuya wanted to laugh. Instead he found himself watching Dazai. The sunlight had shifted, and long lashes cast faint shadows against his cheeks.
...What was wrong with him?
The conversation continued, somehow. Dazai interrupted them twice more. Then three times. Then four. By the sixth interruption, a thought occurred to him. A terrible thought. A ridiculous thought:
...Was Dazai jealous?
Chuuya stared at the ground. No. That was absurd. Dazai wasn't jealous. Dazai didn't get jealous. Right? Right. The idea lingered anyway, very unhelpfully. As the afternoon stretched on, Albatross wandered off to investigate something. Nobody was entirely sure what. This left Chuuya and Dazai alone. For a short moment neither spoke.
Then Dazai asked casually, "You're spending a lot of time with Albatross lately."
...What kind of question was that?
"We're friends."
Something flickered across Dazai's expression.
"Oh."
That was all he said. Then he smiled carefully, and suddenly Chuuya didn't like it.
"Anyway," Dazai said, "I'm leaving."
"What? Why?"
Dazai paused, For a second, he looked surprised.
"No reason."
Then he turned and walked away. Chuuya watched him go. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone wrong. He just didn't know what.
Elsewhere, several streets away, Dazai shoved his hands into his pockets and continued walking, the tiny metal crab sitting in his coat pocket. His fingers brushed against it absently. Chuuya had looked happy. Albatross made him laugh. They spent a lot of time together. Therefore, he concluded, Chuuya liked Albatross.
The realization sat unpleasantly with him, so he ignored it.
...It definitely didn't mean anything.
♡
Chuuya, once again, knew this was a terrible idea, The problem was that he'd known that for weeks now, and it hadn't changed anything. He liked Dazai. There. Fine. Whatever.
The admission sat in his chest, heavy and embarrassing and entirely true. At first he'd thought it would go away. That seemed reasonable; crushes happened; people survived them. Unfortunately, Dazai kept existing. Every time Chuuya thought he was making progress, Dazai would smile, or laugh, or do something stupidly thoughtful when nobody was looking. And then Chuuya would find himself right back where he'd started. Like an idiot. Which was why he was currently pacing.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
"You're gonna end up putting a hole in the floor." Chuuya nearly jumped. Albatross looked up from where he was sprawled across a couch.
Albatross grinned, "What's wrong with you?"
Everything.
"Nothing."
"You've been pacing for ten minutes."
Chuuya crossed his arms, and Albatross squinted at him. His expression brightened. Very bad news.
"What is it?"
"Oh."
No.
"What."
Albatross pointed at Chuuya, then made a heart shape with his hands. Chuuya threw a cushion at him.
"Get out."
"I didn't even say anything!"
"You were about to."
"I was."
At least he was honest. There was that. Albatross laughed. Chuuya wanted him dead. (About that...) Eventually Albatross wandered off, still laughing. Chuuya contemplated murder. Instead, he made a decision. A terrible, courageous decision: he was going to tell Dazai. No more hints, no more gifts, no more suffering. He was just going to say Simple.
...The first problem appeared approximately three minutes later. Said problem was Dazai. He was standing on a balcony overlooking Yokohama, an elbow resting against the railing. The evening breeze tugged at the bandages wrapped around his neck and arms. Dark hair swayed gently in the wind.
This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya was trying to stop doing.
Dazai looked up, his eyes found Chuuya immediately. They always did. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Hi, Chuuya."
The smile reached his eyes, and Chuuya's heart attempted to leave his body.
"Hi." His voice cracked. Wonderful. Dazai's smile widened. Wonderful. Chuuya considered throwing himself off the balcony.
"Something wrong?" Dazai asked.
"No. Yes."
Dazai tilted his head. Chuuya immediately looked at the railing instead. This was impossible. People had fought wars. People had climbed mountains. People had crossed oceans. ...Surely he could survive one conversation?
"Chuuya?" His name sounded unfair coming from Dazai.
"What?"
Dazai blinked. "You called me over."
Right. That. The reason he was here. His stomach twisted. He wasn't nervous though...This was it. Now or never. Chuuya took a breath. Then another. Dazai waited attentively, entirely unaware that he was making everything worse.
"I need to tell you something." The words hung in the air.
Dazai's expression softened "Okay."
Oh. That was somehow worse than teasing would have been. Much worse. Now Dazai was paying attention. Now Dazai was waiting. Now Dazai was looking directly at him with those stupid, ridiculously big eyes. The speech vanished, every rehearsed word disappeared.
Chuuya panicked.
"You look pretty-"
Silence. The world stopped. Chuuya stopped. Dazai stopped. Even the wind seemed to stop.
For one glorious second, He'd done it. Then his brain restarted and immediately betrayed him.
"Pretty ugly."
...
Dazai blinked. Once. Then twice. Chuuya felt his soul leave his body.
"...what?"
Excellent question, Chuuya wished he knew.
"I said you look pretty ugly."
Dazai stared at him.
Chuuya stared determinedly at a point somewhere over Dazai's shoulder. The point seemed safer. Far safer.
"Dude. Did you just-"
"No."
"You definitely-"
"I didn't!"
Dazai was trying very hard not to laugh.
"I hate you." He said, since clearly he couldn't say the other thing. Dazai's mouth twitched...Chuuya wanted to die.
"You're weird." There it was. The inevitable conclusion to every interaction they had ever had.
"Shut up."
Without waiting for a response, Chuuya turned and walked away. Then walked faster. Then significantly faster. Retreat was a valid military strategy. He was choosing to believe this counted. Behind him, Dazai laughed. The sound followed him all the way down the hallway, unfortunately.
Later that night, Dazai sat on the edge of his bed, a small metal crab rested on the nightstand beside him. His thoughts kept drifting anyway. To Chuuya. Again.
"You look pretty-"
Dazai frowned, then leaned back against the wall.
Curious. Nobody accidentally called someone pretty. Right? The thought lingered, and for a brief moment, something almost clicked. Almost. Then the feeling slipped away. Dazai sighed. Chuuya was weird.
...It definitely didn't mean anything.
♡
Dazai understood many things. He understood how to manipulate conversations. He understood how to read people. He understood how to predict outcomes. Most people were surprisingly easy to figure out, which made this particularly embarrassing.
Because it had taken him months, Months, to realize Chuuya liked him. The revelation arrived on an otherwise ordinary afternoon. Dazai was alone-a dangerous situation. Dazai was staring at the keychain. This was becoming a deeply concerning habit. His fingers brushed the metal shell.
"Does it hurt?"
"You look pretty-"
Dazai paused, the crab slipping from his fingers with a Clink!
...
"Oh."
A beat.
"Oh no."
Dazai buried his face in his hands. Pink dusted his face lightly as the realization hit all at once. Not Albatross. Not the injury. Not the gift. Not any single moment. All of them. Every single one. Together. Chuuya had been flirting with him. Dazai wanted to throw himself into the ocean. This was humiliating. For both of them.
...Mostly him.
How had he missed it? The answer arrived immediately: because he was an idiot. The realization led directly to a second one, much worse. Because if Chuuya liked him-then why had Dazai felt so awful watching him laugh with Albatross? Why had he kept the crab? Why had he remembered every single one of those moments? Why...
Oh.
Oh.
That explained several things. Dazai dropped his head onto the desk. The wood made a dull thunk. Eventually he stood, rather bravely. There was only one thing to do The thing to do involved Chuuya. Several minutes later, he found him. Chuuya was sitting alone on a rooftop. The late afternoon sun painted the city gold, a light breeze tugged at his hair. Dazai simply watched.
It was interesting how his heart seemed to react oddly to Chuuya's presence. Chuuya noticed him.
"What do you want?" He greeted warmly.
Dazai sat beside him close enough for their shoulders to brush. Chuuya immediately looked suspicious. Reasonable.
"Chuuya."
"What."
"...You like me."
Chuuya stopped breathing, Dazai was fairly certain of this. Several seconds passed. "What?"
"You're bad at this."
"What???"
Dazai smiled. The expression only seemed to make Chuuya more horrified.
"The arm," Chuuya stilled. "The gift," he continued. Chuuya looked like he wanted to jump off the building, "The injury."
"Oh my God."
"And then there was-"
"I said stop!."
The tips of Chuuya's ears had turned bright red, his freckles stood out starkly against flushed skin. Dazai found the sight unexpectedly endearing. Chuuya sighed. "You figured it out?" The words emerged somewhere between resignation and despair.
Dazai laughed. "A little late, admittedly."
"A little??"
"...Very late."
"Unbelievable."
Silence settled between them, comfortable, for once. Then Chuuya looked away, towards the skyline. The setting sun painted gold across the sharp lines of his face. He seemed actually nervous. Dazai wasn't sure he'd ever seen that before.
"I meant it." The words were quiet, Almost lost to the wind.
"What?"
Chuuya groaned, like he'd regretted speaking. "I meant it."
A pause.
"The pretty part."
Oh. Dazai smiled softly, genuinely. Chuuya immediately looked anywhere except at him.
Coward.
"You think I'm pretty?"
"Don't make this worse."
"You do."
"Shut up."
"You called me pretty."
"I hate you."
Dazai laughed, the sound felt lighter than usual; warmer. Something in Chuuya's expression softened, and suddenly Chuuya reached forward. His fingers caught his tie, the movement so unexpected that he didn't react at first. The wind stirred around them.
Then Chuuya kissed him. It lasted barely a moment, warm and quick, and terrifyingly real. Dazai forgot every thought he'd been having. There was only the brief press of Chuuya's lips against his and the sharp, startled realization that this was actually happening.
Then Chuuya pulled away. Chuuya immediately let go and stood. Retreat.
Unfortunately for him, Dazai caught his wrist firmly. Chuuya stopped. Slowly, he turned back. His face was red, spectacularly red. Dazai had never seen anything quite like it. For a moment they simply stared at each other.
Then Dazai spoke. "Do it again."
"...What?"
"Do it again."
"What?"
"Are you deaf?"
"Stop saying that!."
Dazai laughed, then tugged gently on his wrist, just enough. Chuuya stepped closer. The distance disappeared. This time, neither of them ran away.
Much later, Dazai would look back on the entire situation and understand that Chuuya had never been subtle. Not even once. Months of suffering could have been avoided if Dazai had possessed even a basic understanding of romance. Unfortunately. He'd been sixteen. That explained everything.
♡