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It was dark outside with the exception of passing vehicles below them combined with the city's streetlights, long past eleven at night and yet they were both still sat there uselessly surrounded by an unnerving quiet.
Dazai hated it when Chuuya was silent, because when Chuuya was silent, he was thinking. And Dazai didn't have a single clue as to what he was thinking apart from the possibility of gaining lung cancer due to the cigarette after cigarette that kept burning out and then rapidly reappearing between shaking fingers.
Dazai also hated it when Chuuya trembled like that, because when it wasn't from the exertion Corruption caused, it was always a building outburst of that usual firey temper he'd grown to love so much in situations that weren't their current one.
Although, he didn't ever like to be the cause of the other man's big blowouts anymore, not now they'd both matured, and he hated the fact that this time, the one brewing was his fault entirely and he had nowhere and no one he could reasonably shift the blame onto.
It felt horrible.
Their living room was dark apart from a small side lamp perched next to Chuuya's ashtray, causing a deceivingly cozy orange glow to cast over their furniture and faces, and the more Dazai continued to stare at what he could see of Chuuya's features, the more he realised just how badly he'd fucked up. Because he'd really, really fucked up this time around. The sort of fucked up that wasn't going to just go away on its own.
He'd tried to hold Chuuya earlier, console his partner with the physical touch he usually needed and wanted at times where he wasn't okay, but he'd never been rejected so violently by his hatrack before. Sure, they did it teasingly with gentle nudges and loud complaints but that was just how they were. Never had he been shrugged off by an elbow rammed in his stomach and sworn at to go to hell while Chuuya had stalked off to the kitchen to retrieve where he stashed the cigarettes that just kept coming.
It also surprised him that the mafioso hadn't gotten wine or some sort of alcohol since usually after a rough mission or dragged out week, that was his go to to relax. Well, that and a bath that Dazai would always end up joining him in anyway.
Just another sign of how badly he'd ruined things, he supposed: that Chuuya would rather chainsmoke in silence beside him on the sofa instead of take a ridiculously luxurious bath with all these fancily packaged salts and soaps and a glass of wine in his hand. And he hated wondering if the executive would end up leaving him fast enough for them to never be able to enjoy something as simple as that together again.
He sighed, picking at the skin and small scabs on his thumbs to distract himself from the awful atmosphere around them. Chuuya wasn't even looking at him, turned at an angle so that all Dazai could make out was how his jaw was tense and eyes focused dead ahead at the wall. Empty, zoned.
"Chib- Chuuya," He corrected himself. The redhead was obviously not going to tolerate nicknames in their predicament and the last thing he needed was to make this worse. Even with no reply, he continued warily. "I'm sor-"
"Shut the fuck up." Was growled, cutting him off and rapidly followed by a slight cough as Chuuya choked on the smoke he'd just inhaled. Dazai shifted his gaze to the carpet.
"I am though." He protested. Dry lips struggled to form words and yet he got them out as intended anyway, wanting to get his message across. "I love you."
Slightly strained, but it was rare they admitted those words to each other outright, so surely that had to count for something.
A slight chuckle emitted from the other, shoulders moving up and down with the momentum of it. "Do you?"
And he words sounded so defeated.
Although he was very much in the wrong in its entirety, Dazai would be lying if the nonchalant way the reply brushed him off didn't cause his chest to squeeze in a manner that made him feel sick with nerves and regret, adrenaline kicking in as he realised Chuuya's thread was snapping and he had no idea how to calm him down when he himself had caused the problem. "Listen, Chuuya, please-"
He shouldn't of pushed. Chuuya abruptly shoved himself up to his feet, stumbling with the mere force and then he was stamping the cigarette out so aggressively that the lamp ended up flickering eerily under the force near it, his hands in fists as he tried desperately to breathe through the obvious wave of rage that assaulted him.
Because he was angry. Beyond angry actually, and Dazai, despite what he said about having a great memory, couldn't recall the last time Chuuya had been this pissed at him or the tension between them had ever been this unbearable.
"Don't." Narrowly escaped between gritted teeth, and then Dazai was squeezing his eyes shut momentarily, lips pursed in brace as he listened intently to heavy footsteps stomping down their apartments hallways at speed before slamming a door with a bang loud enough that the neighbors would've definitely heard it.
A violent wave of shivers assaulted him with a vengeance as he heard a forceful yell that cracked into something dishearteningly sadder halfway through and then all there was were bangs, crashes, things being tossed carelessly around, the tell tale sound of Chuuya pacing the ceiling, glass shattering, walls being thumped and punched violently by fists. The list went on as Chuuya's wrath decided to make their bedroom it's one and only victim.
And all Dazai could do was sit there, cringing internally when he heard fabric ripping and praying it wasn't the bedsheets, mainly because they were the mafioso's favourite and he'd only just put them on an hour ago after tidying their apartment to try and sweeten the mood up enough to have a civil conversation. Clearly, that had only been wishful thinking.
What was perhaps the worst part was he truly deserved the horrible ache in his chest as he stayed perfectly still, almost nervous to move despite being alone, the only smell wafting around being the leftover cigarette ash still smouldering it's way out and a sour taste bleeding bitterly around his mouth while surrounded by the audible pain he'd brought onto someone he wanted to care about so badly as a particularly loud crash made him flinch in his seat.
It's your fault, he reminded himself once again. You caused this. Stop acting so sorry for yourself.
So he stayed there. He stayed there until they slams and screams died down in volume until they were eventually silent and even then he remained where he was with his muscles completely frozen over. Dazai knew he'd screwed everything over, so if nothing else having to wait to try his hand at mending things for once was a punishment to himself.
It'd been almost another hour by the time he plucked up enough courage to stand again, albeit wobbly, swallowing thickly before moving to turn off the lamp. It hadn't stopped it's uneven glowing pattern yet, so it was most likely broken Dazai concluded. Maybe he could take the day off of work and go out with Chuuya to buy a new one in the morning and then take them somewhere for lunch.
His footsteps felt as loud as gunshots, despite not wearing shoes, with every step he took closer to their bedroom. Nausea accompanied him closely as he finally reached the door, grimacing at the muffled sniffles he could hear from behind it and trying to push past the overwhelming wrongfulness enough to actually twist the door handle and let himself inside.
He wasn't necessarily surprised by the sight that welcomed him, but that wasn't to say it didn't sting upon seeing how utterly wrecked everything was. How the photos they had collected together over the years and framed were shattered carelessly on the ground, how there were a few dents in one of the walls that they'd have to get fixed, how the bed was tussled (thankfully not ripped) and feathers from Chuuya's pillows were settled down all over the floor which Dazai could immediately tell were going to be a pain to vacuum up.
It turned out it was the curtains that he'd heard being torn, but it did look accidental in all fairness. Like perhaps his partner was just trying to close them but in the irrational state he'd been in, he hadn't realised his own strength before it was too late. That happened due to his ability, sometimes.
Although the worst part was definitely Chuuya himself. They could fix material objects, replace them and get new frames for the pictures — it wasn't as big of a deal compared to if Chuuya was damaged. And although not physically, now that his fury had finally been able to drain itself out entirely, all that was left was the pain and betrayal Dazai had caused. That much was abundantly clear as the brunette watched the ungloved hands that kept reaching to scrub at a tear-stained face.
"Get out." The redhead muttered, voice hoarse from all the strain on his throat. "You're on the couch."
Ah. Well that was to be expected, though Dazai wasn't going to listen to the order just yet, not when there were things he needed to say, things he needed Chuuya to know. He meticulously tiptoed though the shards on the ground, trying not to disturb the feathers either before reaching where the redhead was curled into himself at the foot of their bed and promptly taking a seat next to him.
Chuuya didn't even look at him, didn't even speak. Just acted like he wasn't even in the same room as him.
So although probably not a wise move, Dazai finally did what he'd been itching to do all night, even if it was just to give himself the selfish comfort he'd been craving for hours now. He shuffled closer without uttering a single sound as he went until he could comfortably pull his partner into a tight squeeze, his nose burying itself into ginger locks.
Instantly, he felt some of the dread seep away from him as he felt a heartbeat ricochet against his chest and he could bunch up the fabric of Chuuya's jacket in his hands, the warmth of his partner seeping through his own t-shirt.
Though Chuuya made a point of not reciprocating the motion, not that Dazai expected him to, but there was still something in the way tense muscles relaxed slightly under his touch in a subconscious act of trust that made a small sliver of hope for them glimmer in his chest. He made sure they just stayed perfectly still and in the moment while he indulged in the much nicer scents of Chuuya's shampoo and laundry conditioner — even if they used the same ones, at the end of the day it always smelt better on the other. It was much more calming, something that always made him feel safe since it was so familiar.
Since it was Chuuya. And Chuuya was both of those things to him.
It was when after a while of just relishing in the feeling of the executive's body against his own and Dazai finally decided to slowly move his fingers to mess around with Chuuya's longer hair at the nape of his neck, he instantly felt every centimetre of the chibi practically melt against his body with a sigh at the skin to skin contact. He frowned, knowing that wasn't his usual reaction.
"Arahabaki?" Dazai asked softly, still weary of saying the wrong thing since he was walking on eggshells with each syllable he produced, and Chuuya just nodded tiredly, trying to fight the heaviness in his eyelids.
"Why do you think I came to your fucking do-gooder Agency in the first place?"
Oh. That must've really made a bad situation worse. Dazai wanted to hit himself. Hard.
"It was for information. I didn't like her." He put out there as fast as possible, knowing if he took too long, beat around the bush for a second more than necessary, any chances he might've been given would crumble away from him before he could blink again due to the ginger's current lack of patience for him. "She didn't respond to our usual questioning methods otherwise I wouldn't have done that, and it wasn't pleasurable at all. I'm really sorry."
Despite his pride, he couldn't bring himself to care much as the words fell from his lips. He briefly wondered if that was because they were finally genuine or not, but that was a side thought in comparison to the storm still swirling around his skull.
Chuuya tensed again against the taller frame surrounding him, caught in the heavy riptide between wanting to worm himself away from the embrace or shove himself further into it until they simply melded into one useless being. In the end, his head just slumped down on Dazai's shoulder, too exhausted to move now the God was silenced combined with the fact his earlier onslaught was catching up to him.
"I could hear everything, come on, I'm not an idiot. No one sounds like that who isn't having a good fucking time." He spat harshly. "And it was you who was moaning for more, not her."
Dazai shook his head shakily. "I-I didn't mean it, she was fast so I figured it would get it over with quicker if I just stayed still, not because-"
"Because what, huh?!"
Chuuya's throat bobbed and he let out a shivering exhale, wringing his hands idly in his lap — a nervous habit he'd picked up from Dazai at sixteen as he chewed over his next words thoroughly. Dazai separated the action when his flesh turned white from the pressure and instead, let Chuuya take his frustrations out on his own bandages hands.
"Look, you just sounded more into it with her than you ever have with...you know, us?" Chuuya's voice wobbled dangerously, something that Dazai didn't like the sound of. "Is it me? Do you want someone else other than me and that's why you're doing this? To try and figure stuff out for yourself?"
Unsaid, are you wanting to leave me behind again?
"No." Dazai said firmly, quickly. "No no no no, Chuuya's the only one who can satisfy me that way and make me feel good, I'd never want to have sex-"
"Make love." Chuuya reminded him grimly, which was yet another thing Dazai wanted to slap himself for forgetting. His chibi had always preferred more intimate terms ever since they started seeing each other in that light.
"-make love with anyone but him. Ever. You're the only one I feel safe with and I like it that way."
And it was the full truth, even though it burnt to admit. It was something he never thought would leave his mind into the open, yet here they were.
There was a despondent shake of red curls pulling back slightly from where he was leaning and Dazai watched nervously as wandering eyes locked intently onto the marks decorating up and down his neck, dipping and disappearing just below his shirt. "Yeah. You'd only ever want to do that with me." Chuuya laughed humorlessly, waterlines visibly wet again. "You wanna tell me how far down those go?"
Dazai swallowed, taking his own turn to avoid looking at Chuuya's near on devastation. He didn't want to see it anymore. "I told her to stop, but she wouldn't listen to me."
A gritty sob echoed solo around the bedroom walls. "For fucks sake."
And then they were back at the start, with Chuuya forcing him away and refusing to touch him again. Because he was filthy, he'd betrayed someone he was supposed to love. Because he'd let a stranger at him for measly pieces of information which they might've been able to get out of him another way but no, he'd chosen to let him at his body. And now Chuuya knew another person had touched him, held him, kissed him and even left proof of it in the form of a stained mouth from lipstick he wasn't able to scrub off completely and a mark on his neck he wished he could burn away entirely.
He shooed away the thoughts that told him that wasn't actually a bad idea.
Disgust crept up on him faster than he'd expected as he ran a hand through his hair in despair, trying to see a way out of this that wasn't going to involve Chuuya walking out or a fight they wouldn't have any chance to recover from.
"I didn't know it counted as cheating." Desperation was beginning to bleed through his tone unintentionally, "This happened all the time when we were younger, Mori made me do stuff with tons of people and, and you didn't care-"
"It was obviously different then!" Another choked down sob, as Chuuya grabbed onto him, shaking his form slightly. "We were kids, dumbass, we weren't dating, we hated each other's goddamn guts and you didn't know what you were doing anyway! Neither of us did!"
His free palm wiped at his cheeks frustratedly. "You are twenty-fucking-two Dazai, I thought you'd know by now that snogging someone else, no matter if it was genuine or not, that if you've already committed to someone, you don't just do that, you-"
Chuuya suddenly glared at him like he'd grown a second head and Dazai could feel his own eyes water when Chuuya started to move so far back that any contact between them was completely stopped. Not to get away from Dazai himself though, it appeared, but more to put distance between the thoughts in his head and the man next to him.
Dazai barely restrained himself for reaching back out for Chuuya in such a pathetic way, he'd be horrified if he looked back on his actions later on.
"Dammit, tell me you didn't...you didn't go all the way with her, right?" He asked shakily, "Fucking hell, after I left, please tell me you didn't-"
The detective froze at the implication, shaking his head wildly, and before he knew it, his hands were actually grasping for the other, to do what? He didn't know himself until they landed on the others wrists, cancelling out the faint red glow that had started to make an appearance through Chuuya's mild hysteria.
"I meant what I said before. I only want Chuuya." He repeated, willing to say it however many times necessary to get his slug to believe it. "Can you please trust me on that?"
Dazai felt bile burn his throat when he was shot the most hopeless expression possible. "I don't know anymore, Dazai, can I?" Got shot back right in his face as the grip on the other slid away once again, "Because right now it seems like you'd rather go after anyone but me and I'm nothing but a damn afterthought."
"That's not true-"
"Then what? If you want to stay together, what's your fucking problem?" Chuuya snapped loudly, bunching the fabric of his trousers until there was a creak of seams splitting under the grip. "Why are you doing this to me? To us? What are you gaining?"
And for once, Dazai was speechless, mouth opening to try and answer fueled by his partner's pleading expression once, twice, and then it clacked shut without a sound and Chuuya's face fell, putting his head in his hands in utter despair.
"I don't know what to do anymore." He admitted with a deep inhale of air, "I really don't."
The brunette bit down on his lip, ignoring the taste of pennies and wet copper as he drew blood. "...Then break up with me."
A pause. Chuuya turned to look at him and Dazai's stomach churned at just how puffy and bloodshot his eyes were.
"Do you want me to?"
Another one, longer than the last.
"No."
"Then no, I won't." Came the executive's final conclusion. Dazai frowned, his mouth starting to feel like it was made of nothing more than a flimsy cotton sponge that was intent on soaking up every single ounce of moisture his body had to offer and then some. He wondered if at some point, he'd have to physically peel it from the roof of his mouth.
"But I've hurt you."
"You have."
"You hate me."
"Right now, yeah. I really do."
Now it was Dazai's turn to feel a wave of irritation bubble in his gut at Chuuya's stubbornness. "Why not just end it then?"
Chuuya groaned, still massaging his temples, which Dazai was yet to discern to be his responsibility or the being concealed in his tiny body that was most likely still giving him a hard time on top of everything. "Because," He mumbled, "You're still the shitty Dazai I know. And as much as I want to punch your stupid face back into your skull in this moment, I still make the mistake of loving you every goddamn day and I have since I was fifteen. Okay?"
Oh.
Chuuya still loved him after all the pain he'd brought him, all the pain he'd forced him through. The detective drew lanky knees to his chest, willing the knot of stress and insecurity to disappear before he was actually sick and added to the mess that was everything, currently — physically and emotionally.
"I genuinely am sorry." He whispered, lips clammy, "I just... I've always done...that."
The ginger raised an eyebrow in suspicion, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "What, cheated on your partner?"
"No, like-" Dazai corrected himself, struggling to find the right words to explain himself. "Like, it wasn't cheating to me because-"
The eyebrow raised just that inch higher to spur his impending justification on, and yet all Dazai could do was gulp down a wave of dizziness that assaulted him. He bit his tongue this time, relieved he had something else to focus on other than what he was trying to say, even if that was a sting in his mouth.
"In the Mafia," He began slowly, ever so slowly. "Did Mori ever tell you that you could...you know, use your body to your own advantage?"
Chuuya hummed lowly. "I think once." He shrugged, "Ane-san didn't let that settle for long."
Dazai tried a weak smile, but it was clear Chuuya wasn't ready for that yet. Or perhaps it came out more self deprecating than he'd intended judging by the knowing glare he was sent with daggers.
"I've...just always found that it works. Mori taught me when I was younger and it's...it's habit, a dirty habit that I can't shake and don't want anymore."
He tried not to whimper over a small hiccuping cry that he could feel posing threat. " 'M sorry. I haven't done it in years and I'm trying to be better and consider other people's feelings more but it's not working as it should and now I've made you sad and messed it all up."
For the nth time that evening, they fell into that state of tranquility that was beginning to become a theme for this evening. Dazai watched as calmly as he could as the other man's face flickered between too many emotions to count, face scrunching up accordingly to each one which the detective had always liked about him. So expressive, even when he didn't mean to be. So human.
"Why?" Chuuya eventually asked, and this time Dazai was the one who wouldn't meet his gaze. "You're worth more than that and you're allowed to know that. People shouldn't be touching you if you don't want it."
Dazai shook his head. "I'm not worth that." He muttered, and he meant it.
"Yes, you are." The redhead persisted, "And you deserve to respect yourself, you don't have to tolerate that. Fuck, if you told me sooner, I would've understood, dammit Dazai-"
"I'm too far gone."
Chuuya groaned. "You know I'd tell you if you were."
Dazai forced earliers ball of stress that had returned to his throat down with a vengeance. "Stop lying. I'm dirty, Chuuya, haven't you seen me?"
The executive rolled his eyes. "Every inch unfortunately, and you're annoyingly perfect."
"But the scars-"
"Which aren't your fault, and are pretty badass to be honest."
"A-and you know that I was ruined by fourteen-"
"You weren't ruined, asshat, and even if you were you have the help you need now and you've wiped a clean slate, so that doesn't count either."
"But what about Mori-"
"Hey," Chuuya said, and suddenly Dazai could only stare at him in awe as that gentle lilt to his tone he loved so much finally made an appearance — the tone Chuuya used when he knew Dazai had had a rough day, or woke up in the middle of the night unable to get back to sleep so they'd make hot chocolate and watch crappy movies on their TV. He could've cried out of sheer relief when Chuuya, at last, shuffled closer until their shoulders were barely a hairs breadth away from touching and Dazai could see the faint freckles on Chuuya's face if he focused.
He stayed still, deciding that the executive could choose if he wanted to touch fully or not.
"You're not a bad person just because you did a bad thing, okay? And at least you're aware of it in the first place, which is a huge start and something I'm proud about." Came the reassurance that Dazai was sure he'd be needing for the rest of his life. It was only when he noticed that Chuuya was staring at him did he feel the burning in his eyes, feeling no older than a pathetic little boy who didn't know left from right anymore. He was mightily glad none fell.
"I still cheated on Chuuya though." He whispered, "I kissed someone else."
"You did." Chuuya mused, placing his hand on Dazai's knee, "Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed. But I understand why you thought it didn't count as that now, and I appreciate the honesty instead of you making up some lame excuse and then fucking off to go know where. That's a good step in the right direction, yeah?"
"That still doesn't make it any better though." Dazai protested again. "I made you cry."
"Hm, right again."
"Hit me then." Dazai announced, "For compensation. You know, an eye for an eye and all that."
Chuuya remained wordless, only wrapping a hand around one of Dazai's. "No. That's not how this is going to work." He explained, rubbing his thumb over covered knuckles. "I'm not letting you use me to hurt yourself mackerel, we've talked about this-"
"But I wa-"
"Dammit, would you let me finish?"
Dazai looked away again, not wanting to work Chuuya back up into a frenzy, only relenting once there was a muttered apology in his ear and the motion on his hand returned.
"Look, I know we've said this a stupid amount of times today, but really do I love you, so of course I'm not going to hit you for no good reason or at all for that matter. It won't fix anything. Got it?"
"Aw, Chuuya's starting to get sappy on me.~" The detective tried to laugh but it came out horribly monotone. He winced.
"That's just depressing." Chuuya stated bluntly, stifling a snort at Dazai's grim staring at the carpet. "Can I keep going now?
Dazai nodded with a huff. "I suppose. Speak chibi."
An elbow nudged him in protest — and the brunette was immensely grateful for not getting shoved away again. "Oi, still not a dog."
Chuuya tilted his head at an angle, tucking a hair behind Dazai's ear. "Have you ever noticed that your eyes have these little golden flecks in them?"
No, not really. Dazai averted his gaze to back the side awkwardly, and yet Chuuya kept going. "Or that your hair always looks stupidly good even though you do absolute jackshit with it?"
Dazai gulped. "Mm, not really. Though Chuuya must really enjoy staring at me to take note of that."
"Maybe I do." The redhead professed, shamelessly. "Your nose also scrunches up when you think too hard." He added, "Like now. And its fucking adorable."
Dazai groaned. "You really are getting sappy." He complained, hesitantly resting his head on Chuuya's shoulder before the slight heat that travelled to his cheeks became visible, feeling the vibrations that rumbled around him when Chuuya chuckled and luckily, did not push him off.
"What I'm saying is I don't see what you see. You have so many things about you that make you so human it makes me jealous."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, including emotions. And besides," Chuuya intertwined their fingers fully, holding their joined hands up to their eye lines, "We're Double Black, aren't we? We've worked our way through way worse shit than this."
Those simple sentences implied so much, and Dazai could honestly say it was the first time all night that he felt a genuine smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he moved his head up and down in agreement, squeezing the calloused hand in his.
"So...are we...good?" He inquired sheepishly. If he'd decided one thing tonight, it was that he never wanted to fight like this again. Or ever, actually. Maybe it was time to retire from his role as Chuuya's thorn in his side. "I promise it won't ever happen again. I won't let it."
"Not entirely." Chuuya reminded him sternly. "You're making this up to me somehow, and you've got at least four weeks of grovelling to do."
He huffed heavily in defeat, brushing a thumb against Dazai's cheek affectionately. At least that's what Dazai thought he was doing until he realised Chuuya's thumb came back moist. Maybe a tear or two did manage to break free. "...But if you're asking if I still hate you, it's gone back down to the usual amount, if that helps any."
"Yes." Dazai murmered contently, finally bringing his own arms to wrap tightly around Chuuya's torso and squeeze. "It does."
In the end, Dazai realised the following morning that both had managed to drift off in the most awkward position at the foot of their bed, awakening disgruntled, drowsy and surrounded by the debris of anger that they were yet to clean. But they were happy, and that was all that mattered to the brunette as they'd sluggishly forced themselves up onto the actual bed to get an extra hours rest before work.
Chuuya eventually decided on having Dazai do the torturous tasks of having to shower daily, get in bed with an appropriate amount of medication by nine in the evening and have the lunches he gave him for work return completely empty for the next two weeks if he wanted his full forgiveness which of course, was the absolute worst to begin with. But it got better over time when the mafioso began doubling up with him in the shower on occasion and packing him crab combined with the healthy foods he insisted on as a supposed reward (which Dazai secretly relished in).
He also insisted on daily dates every evening, whether that was just a movie at home or a walk down the road; as long as they spent time together, it didn't matter.
"You're a horrible, horrible person!" He complained one night while they were wrapped tightly around each other and surrounded by an unnecessary amount of blankets, some new of course; Chuuya had picked them up while they were shopping for curtains in a nearby homeware store.
"Oh yeah?" The redhead counteracted, delivering a half hearted kick to a bandaged shin under the covers, "I told you you were gonna have to work hard for me to accept your apology."
Dazai whined. "But this is torture!"
"Good. Suck it up." Chuuya grinned, his nose resting comfortably in brown hair that was still slightly damp with residual water until Dazai shifted to look up at him.
"Says you, the one who certainly sucked something up earlier-"
He was silenced with a mouthful of something fluffy, spitting it out in disgust when he realised it was the covers.
"Chuuya!"
"What?"
A beat of silence — the comfortable kind this time. Dazai threw an arm over Chuuya's waist.
"Thank you." He whispered, staring straight into azure eyes as he said so. "And I love chibi too, just for the record."
And the last thing he felt before closing his eyes after such a sentence was a gentle kiss to his forehead and calloused fingers sweeping ruffled hair from his face.
"I know." Chuuya said back, sickeningly sweet and painfully soft, "Anytime, you waste of bandages."