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Summary
A year of nothing. No body, because bodies from their line of work rarely turn up clean, and Chuuya had told himself that meant nothing, that absence of proof wasn't proof, right up until it stopped meaning anything at all and became just another fact of his life, something he carried the way you carry an old injury; an ache in weather, a reflex flinch, a name he stopped letting himself say out loud.
And here he is. Bleeding on Chuuya's couch like he just stepped out for cigarettes.
or
dazai shows up injured at chuuyas doorstep after he defects from the mafia and they lowk accidently build a home together