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It’s not often that Chuuya gets injured.
His gravity manipulation is the ultimate shield—anything that touches him is subject to his ability, making him almost untouchable.
But sometimes, he miscalculates. And today’s mission was one big miscalculation.
“I look stupid.”
Chuuya glares at the mirror, watching as his reflection glares back. He’s wearing casual clothes, but his usual hat and choker have been replaced with something far less stylish:
Bandages.
They wrap around Chuuya’s throat, the material moving with his Adam’s apple every time he breathes. It’s constricting, and Chuuya resists the urge to rip it off. But that’s not even the worst part. Around the left side of his face, more bandages are wrapped meticulously, going under his hair and connecting on the back side. Having one eye covered is disorienting, and Chuuya hates it.
But he needs them, considering the wound he received on a mission earlier today. Distracted by Dazai, some random grunt snuck up on him and sliced him under his eye. The man was killed instantly, but the damage had still been done. Chuuya scowls at his unbandaged eye, the brown of his iris almost black in the low light.
“Chibi just can’t pull it off as well as me.”
Dazai sits on the edge of Chuuya’s bed, arms crossed in disapproval. Chuuya spins on his heels and scowls at his partner, but the effect is ruined when his hair falls over his visible eye. He flips his hair dramatically and levels a glare at Dazai.
“Pfft,” Dazai snorts, and Chuuya decides he’s had enough.
He charges Dazai, bringing his foot around to land a solid kick to Dazai’s sternum. Dazai dodges, and the two of them fall backwards on the bed, rolling around as they both attempt to gain the upper hand. Eventually, Chuuya overpowers Dazai and pins him to the bed, watching as his partner breathes heavily beneath him.
“It’s pathetic how out–of–shape you are,” Chuuya jeers, locking his knees on either side of Dazai’s hips.
Dazai tries to reply, but it comes out as a wheeze. He scowls up at Chuuya, but Chuuya pays him no mind, his mind suddenly scrutinizing every detail of his partner below him.
Dark hair spills out around Dazai’s head, forming a halo that greatly contrasts with the white of his eye bandages. His visible eye is wide, and Chuuya notices little gold flecks that line the edges of the otherwise dark brown irises. His cheeks are red—probably from the exertion of wrestling Chuuya—and it adds a nice splash of color to his otherwise pale face.
He’s so busy scanning Dazai’s face that he almost misses the whispered words that slip past Dazai’s lips.
“This is so romantic.”
…Huh?!
Chuuya lets go of Dazai’s wrists, and Dazai instantly slaps a hand over his mouth. He scrambles out from under Chuuya, covering his face with his hands as he pulls his knees up to his head.
They sit in awkward silence, both at a loss for words. Chuuya tugs at the bandages on his face as he reevaluates his view of Dazai.
The bastard is annoying; he’ll say that much. But he’s also supported Chuuya since he first joined the mafia, even if he was an asshole for most of their partnership. He was there when Chuuya fought Rimbaud, when Verlaine first opened his gate, and when he fought Guivre that fateful night outside of Yokohama. Chuuya will never forget what Dazai said to him, moments before he first activated Corruption.
“Verlaine turned into that beast because he was tormented by the curse of knowing he wasn’t human. That’s how serious this thing is—this issue of being human or not.”
“We can delay the mission for another two minutes. I’ll put my men on standby. You should take this moment to think. Alone. Because I’m sure you won't be able to think clearly with me here.”
That moment had been the first time since they met that Chuuya really understood Dazai. For the first time in Chuuya’s life, someone had given him the freedom to choose, to choose for himself how he wanted his life to proceed. He was even willing to leave Chuuya alone—a miracle in itself—so he could decide in peace.
In the end, it all didn’t matter, as Chuuya jumped off that rooftop to fight Guivre, losing the opportunity to confirm his humanity. But to Chuuya, that event clearly marked the first time Dazai became something more than the suicidal idiot who ran his mouth.
Blinking back to the present, Chuuya observes Dazai’s form, watching as his dark hair falls in front of his face, obscuring it from view. Strangely, the sight brings a small smile to Chuuya’s face, and he lets out a whoosh of breath as he finally breaks the silence.
“You’re so weird.”
Dazai peeks out from under his bangs, his dark eye wide with surprise. “What?”
“I said,” Chuuya leans in close, startling Dazai. “You’re so weird.”
Dazai’s breath quickens. His eye stays locked on Chuuya, but it strays to the bandages still covering Chuuya’s left eye. He reaches up slowly, as if worried this is all an act, and grasps the edge of the bandage. “Can I?” Dazai whispers, and Chuuya nods.
Dazai slowly pulls on the bandage, and it all unravels in one long thread. They pile in the space between them, and Chuuya blinks slowly, letting his eye adjust to the room’s low light. He gives Dazai a lopsided smirk, and Dazai rewards him with a small giggle.
“Chuuya should stick to wearing ugly hats. The bandages cover his pretty eye.”
Huh. He’s been told many things about his multi-colored eyes, including that he’s a demon or he’s been cursed by some ancient spirit. He’s also been told by several creepy old men that he had the “eyes of an angel” or some other weird shit. After joining the mafia, Chuuya considered wearing a brown contact lens over his blue eye to look normal. But eventually, he decided against it, figuring that anyone who had a problem with his eye color could learn the crushing weight of gravity.
But hearing Dazai call his blue eye pretty brought forth emotions Chuuya’s never felt before. His stomach flips, and he desperately tries to keep a pleased smile off his face as Dazai analyzes his reaction.
So, Chuuya deflects. He mirrors Dazai’s motion and lays a finger against his partner’s bandages, rubbing circles into the soft material. Dazai lets out a little squeak, but doesn’t immediately push Chuuya away.
“What about you, huh?” Chuuya puts his palm flat against the side of Dazai’s face, enjoying the feel of his curls in his hand. “What secrets are you hiding here?”
His hand slowly moves down until it finds the end of the bandages. With a single tug, Chuuya could unmask his partner and see for the first time what he was hiding underneath that gauze. But he doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head, asking the silent question that he doesn’t dare voice, in case he’s instantly shot down.
But to Chuuya’s immense surprise, Dazai nods slowly. “Do it.” He whispers, and his visible eye closes with anticipation.
Reverently, Chuuya begins to unwind the bandages, revealing more and more of Dazai’s skin, until the last piece slides off and falls to the floor. There’s no visible marks on Dazai’s face—no scars, no damage, nothing of note. But when Dazai opens his eyes, Chuuya forgets to breathe.
Dazai’s right eye is a stormy blue, the color of the ocean on a windswept day. The pupil dilates as it readjusts to the light, and Dazai pulls his lips into a half-smile, waiting for Chuuya’s reaction.
“Dazai, it’s…”
“Creepy?” Dazai finishes for him with a humorless laugh. “Weird? Uncanny?”
“No,” Chuuya cuts in, “I was going to say…beautiful.”
Blush paints Dazai’s face as he looks away. “Chuuya’s so mushy.”
“You idiot. Why would I think your eyes are creepy?”
“‘Cause everyone else does.” Chuuya smothers a laugh, and Dazai shoves him lightly. “Stop that!” He whines, but his eyes are shining with relief.
“Look at my eyes, Dazai, and tell me why I should find your heterochromia creepy.”
It’s baffling to Chuuya that Dazai thought he would make fun of his differently colored eyes, considering Chuuya’s own eyes were dual-colored. His heterochromia is something Chuuya’s come to appreciate, along with his hair color and short stature—although he’ll still kill anyone who dares call him small.
“You—you really think it’s beautiful?” Dazai’s words are quiet, and his gaze travels to the bandages still pooled between them. He’s tense, like he’s waiting for Chuuya to come to his senses and tell him he’s a freak of nature. But Chuuya has something else in mind.
He lifts his hand and cups Dazai’s cheek, right under his stormy-blue eye. Dazai flinches slightly, but he leans into the touch, meeting Chuuya’s gaze hesitantly.
“You’re beautiful, Dazai, eyes and all.” And then, Chuuya does something incredibly stupid.
He leans in and presses a chaste kiss to Dazai’s lips. His partner’s lips are dry, but the warmth feels so incredibly good on Chuuya’s lips as he pulls back, trying to gauge Dazai’s reaction.
Dazai stares into nothingness, and Chuuya grows worried, waving a hand in front of Dazai’s face. “Hello? Dazai? Are—are you okay?”
Little by little, Dazai comes back to himself, and his lips start to turn up at the corners. Chuuya watches in amazement as Dazai’s face splits into a wide grin, and he surges forward to meet Chuuya, their lips crashing together again.
It’s not pretty, but Chuuya wouldn’t have it any other way. He threads a hand through Dazai’s soft hair, desperate to bring the other boy closer than physically possible. After a while, they pull apart, both breathing heavily as they process what just happened.
Dazai’s eyes flutter shut, a blissed-out look spreading across his face. They didn’t even do anything too scandalous, yet Dazai looks absolutely content. Suddenly, his eyes pop open, and he scrambles on the bed for something.
“What the hell…?” Chuuya asks, and Dazai finally finds what he’s looking for. He pulls out a small instant camera and yanks Chuuya in, squishing their faces together.
“Hey!” Chuuya protests, but he’s more confused than angry. Dazai points the camera towards them, and before Chuuya can say anything, he clicks the button.
“Oi! I wasn’t ready!” Dazai ignores Chuuya’s complaint as the photo prints out, and he shakes it vigorously, waiting for the image to appear.
It’s a crappy picture.
The edges are blurred, and Chuuya has this stupid puzzled look on his face. Meanwhile, Dazai’s grinning like a maniac, his teeth almost glowing in the light. But Chuuya’s attention is drawn to their eyes.
Chuuya’s right side is smushed against Dazai’s left, making it so both of their brown eyes are next to each other. Their blue eyes are on the outside, and they both look almost ethereal in the glow of the camera.
“We match!” Dazai’s gleeful voice pulls Chuuya’s gaze to the real Dazai as he almost buzzes in his seat. “It’s like we were made for each other.”
Dazai really needs to stop saying such out-of-pocket things like that; it isn’t good for Chuuya’s health. His heart beats rapidly in his chest, and his stomach flips. Did Dazai really mean that? Was he insinuating…that they were soulmates of some kind?
“Wait.” Dazai perks up, and he pulls Chuuya’s nightstand drawer open, grabbing out a roll of tape. He pushes himself to his feet and walks to Chuuya’s full-length mirror. Ripping off a piece, he tapes the picture to the edge of the glass.
“There! Now every time you look in the mirror, you’ll see me!” He’s so proud of himself, and Chuuya has to roll his eyes at the sweet yet conceited gesture.
“Thanks,” he deadpans, “but I’d rather not see your ugly face every time I get dressed.”
Dazai gasps in mock offense. “But Chuuya called me beautiful earlier, or did his small brain forget already?”
“Bastard.” Chuuya flushes red at the reminder of what he said. He’s never going to live that down, is he?
Dazai stares at himself in the mirror, seemingly lost in thought. Then, almost innocently, he says, “Hey, Chuuya? Wasn’t there an Executive meeting today that was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago?”
Shit! Chuuya glances at the clock and jumps to his feet when he realizes the time. Kouyou was going to kill him—the last time he and Dazai were late, she made them take dancing lessons until Chuuya’s feet were ready to fall off.
“Come on, idiot!” He grabs Dazai’s wrist and drags him out the door, ignoring Dazai’s whines.
They practically sprint out the door, Dazai’s eye bandages forgotten in a pile on Chuuya’s bed. But neither of them says anything, and not a single person comments on Dazai’s missing bandages as they make their way through the mafia tower. Even the other Executives don’t comment, but Kouyou does raise an eyebrow at their disheveled state when they burst into the meeting room, breathing heavily.
From that day forward, their partnership shifted into something different. Dazai still wore his eye bandages to work most days—apparently, he wanted to keep up his “mysterious” aura—but around Chuuya, he almost always kept them off. They continued to bicker and fight, but it almost always ended with small kisses that always caught the other one off guard. And Dazai’s eyes grew less dead with every passing day, a new sort of light filling the previously empty space. And Chuuya saw Dazai’s eyes sparkle for the very first time after a heated kiss, when he uttered three small words.
“I love you.”