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He was undeniably the most comfortable and warm he had ever been, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't soaking it in like this was the last chance he would have.
When Dazai pressed further beneath Chuuya’s chin, a grumble came from the chest he was pressed against. He froze. He didn't want to disrupt whatever was between them, especially not now, when Dazai was so close to falling back asleep. So, he held his breath, waiting, trying his hardest not to move.
“Dumbass,” Chuuya muttered, his voice rough and cracking. He hit Dazai in the back, causing the latter to suck in a deep breath in surprise. “You may have woke me up, but I'm not going to kill you for it. You'd stain my sheets.”
Dazai let himself chuckle, mind distant.
He was…scared that Chuuya would kick him out. The yelling, insulting, and cursing were all things he could handle, but rejection was not one. Not from him. Not after everything they had been through together. Dazai couldn't lose him, too.
Chuuya's arms tightened around Dazai’s neck, pulling him closer—if that was possible. “Stop thinking so much, idiot. Just relax for once.”
Closing his eyes, Dazai attempted to do just that. He forced himself to breathe, willing his heart rate to go down. Only when Chuuya began to run his fingers through Dazai’s hair did Dazai truly calm down. He melted into the touch, his body going limp against Chuuya’s.
A kiss was planted atop Dazai’s head as his nose brushed Chuuya’s neck.
“There. That's better.”
Dazai shivered slightly, smiling to himself. Chuuya treated him so carefully, and with the patience of a thousand men. It wasn't something Dazai was used to, but he would learn to accept it eventually. How could he not? Chuuya did this too often for him to forget about it—or, rather, push it into the farthest recesses of his mind.
“You want breakfast? Or should we stay in bed?”
He was being given a choice?
“Bed. Obviously.” How could Chuuya even ask him that?
“ ‘mkay. Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Chuuya murmured, his words soft and dripping with sleep.
Dazai felt the back of his neck warm. He whined slightly, pouting. “Unfair. You can't call me that and then go back to sleep!”
“Not asleep yet, princess. What do you need?” Chuuya leaned back slightly, if only to look at Dazai, who was flushed uncharacteristically.
“I—asshole. Kiss.”
Chuckling, Chuuya leaned down, pressing a small, gentle kiss to Dazai’s forehead. “Like that?”
Their faces were close now, their breaths brushing past one another. Dazai could smell Chuuya’s shampoo. It was so familiar that Dazai allowed himself to sink into the feeling of Chuuya around him: his smell, his touch, his gaze on Dazai’s lips.
Then, without a retort or snarky remark, Dazai simply leaned forward, effectively cutting off anything Chuuya was about to say.
He was warm and sweet and made a small, deep sound in the back of his throat.
The kiss was short, followed by another and another. They took their time, savoring the feeling. Dazai’s body was burning pleasantly, filled with Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya. It was everything and yet not enough. Dazai’s lips parted, and Chuuya took the hint.
Dazai shuttered.
God. Chuuya felt heavenly. He felt safe.
They pulled apart. Dazai couldn't remember who ended the kiss, but he knew that he was out of breath. He panted softly into the air between them, a smile stretching across his face.
“Mm. Satisfied?”
“Not yet!” Dazai grinned wider, scooting up to plant kisses across Chuuya's cheek, over his nose, and down towards his lips.
Chuuya laughed, wholeheartedly and warm. The sound beat against Dazai’s ribs, his heart pounding in his ears. He couldn't stop himself from smiling. He was so, so happy. So, so glad he was there, in the moment, with Chuuya in front of him.
Fingers tangled back into his hair, pulling him into another breathless, giggle-filled kiss. Dazai forgot everything but Chuuya. His mind wasn't filled with senseless noise, nor was he drifting off into space. And he appreciated the way Chuuya could turn off all his over-stressed senses, even if for only a moment.
This time, when they pulled away, Chuuya whispered, “You're so stupid.”
“And yet you love me.”
“I do.”
Silence. Those words, that admission, pressed only Dazai’s chest, making his heart stutter. He forced himself to lean back, brush it off. “Aha! I knew it! Oh, my sweet little, naive—”
“Osamu.”
Dazai froze, gulping audibly.
Chuuya cupped his cheeks, smiling. “I'm not joking. So don't force yourself to pretend it's not real.”
He didn't tremble. Dazai Osamu didn't tremble. He was not a weak man. And yet, as Chuuya looked at him, so honest and open for once, Dazai nearly shook, eyes wide.
He wouldn't cry. Dazai wouldn't cry. He didn't. He—fuck.
Chuuya just pressed another kiss into his cheek, pulling him back into his chest. “You don't have to say anything. I know.”
And Dazai realized Chuuya was right. Despite Dazai’s best efforts to remain secretive and mysterious, Chuuya knew. He knew how much it hurt to say it. And he knew that Dazai loved him despite that fact. He knew Dazai.
“Chuuya…thank you.”
Chuuya snorted. “Any time, Osamu. Anywhere, anytime.”
…
It has been four years, and yet, Dazai had clung to those words as if they could save him. That's why, when Chuuya picked up that night, he wasn't surprised. Even though Chuuya didn't have any reason to associate with him anymore. Even though he had abandoned Chuuya, just like everyone else in Chuuya’s life.
Well, maybe that was something they had in common.
“Osamu? Is something wrong?”
Chuuya knew. He knew immediately.
“I—it’s too much. I—”
“You're at your apartment, yes?”
Dazai hummed in agreement, his eyes stinging. There was a fire rising up into his chest, burning its way through his ribcage.
“I'll be there in ten.”
Chuuya stayed true to his word. It had been ten minutes. When he arrived, Dazai was curled up on his living room floor, dry heaving.
“...Osamu.”
The front door hadn't been locked, so Chuuya came right in, dropping to his knees in front of Dazai.
“What did you take?”
“Mm…I…don't ‘member.”
With a sigh, Chuuya made his way into the bathroom, rummaging around. Then, he made his way into the kitchen. A few moments later, he returned with a glass of water and a bucket.
“How much have you thrown up?”
“Mmm…not enough.”
“Okay. Sit up. Come on.” He coaxed Dazai up, assisting only when needed. It was like he didn't want to touch Dazai, as if the thought was enough to make Chuuya vomit. “There you go.”
Chuuya pressed his fingertips to Dazai's lips. “Open up.”
Dazai relented hesitantly, allowing Chuuya to shove his fingers into the back of Dazai’s through. It was a practiced motion.
This wasn't the first time this had happened, but this time was different. He was too out of it to regulate his emotions. He was too far gone to process what he was doing. He had called Chuuya out of desperation.
Dazai gagged, his throat burning as acid and pills and whatever else he had swallowed resurfaced, torching his insides. His nose hurt, his jaw hurt. As he emptied what little was on his stomach, he coughed. And coughed. And coughed. And then gagged again. And again. And again. Until his head spun and he couldn't breath and he was throwing up again and again and again and again.
He was shaking, sobbing, as he came to, mind and eyesight fuzzy. Only once he registered Chuuya’s voice did he realize Chuuya had been tucking his hair behind his ear and rubbing his back soothingly.
“—hear me, Osamu?”
Dazai attempted to reply, but all that came out was a gargled sound. His throat, ears, nose, and eyes were on fire.
And then he was gagging again. Oh god. Please make it stop. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. God. Please.
He couldn't think. Couldn't move. It was all coming up at once, his stomach squeezing in on itself so tightly he thought he'd pass out.
Then, he stopped, his chest heaving and mouth filled with a vile taste.
There was a ringing in his ears. Static filled his vision. He barely registered his head behind pushed back and the cold glass being pressed against his lips. He supposed he had rinsed and spit, but he didn't remember. He couldn't tell.
“—samu—with me?”
No, Dazai Osamu was not home. He wasn't on this planet, actually, and he would've said so if he could. If his vision didn't go out. And if his hearing hadn't gone next.
It felt like seconds passed, but in reality, it must've been much longer. Sun streamed through the windows, slanted and broken. There was a warm, soft body next to him, breathing quietly. When he turned to look, he saw Chuuya, resting quietly. He hadn’t even changed. His jacket and hat were resting in the corner somewhere.
Dazai frowned. He had definitely changed, but when? Unless…had Chuuya changed him? Probably. Not that Dazai would remember.
His head was pounding and his body felt sluggish, hot.
Chuuya’s eyes fluttered open, squinting against the light. When he saw Dazai looking at him, he sighed.
No longer were the days where Chuuya would smile upon seeing him, and yet, there was something soft there that startled Dazai.
“ ‘morning. How'd you sleep?” Chuuya’s voice was rough, creaking slightly in the weight of his sleep.
Dazai smiled despite himself, scooting closer to Chuuya, who only hummed in response, tossing an arm over Dazai’s waist and closing his eyes once more.
Clearing his throat, Dazai frowned. His throat was killing him. “I—” his voice gave out. “Drink?”
Chuuya's eyes opened again, his gaze more focused than before. “ ‘course.” He sat up, stretching. “Come on, we can make you breakfast while we are at it.”
Dazai didn't protest. Not when he was being fed by Chuuya, whose cooking was godly.
Instead, he let himself be helped up. Chuuya put an arm around his waist, supporting him as they made their way into the living room. It was a tiny apartment, so there wasn't much of a walk. Dazai flopped down onto the couch, groaning.
With a chuckle, Chuuya made his way into the kitchen. “I'll make you some tea. The right kind, don't worry.”
Chuuya remembered.
Throughout his life, Dazai had only liked one kind of tea. Chuuya learnt this early on, and would keep that kind stocked in his house. Dazai wondered what he did with the leftovers when Dazai disappeared?
It was silent for a while. Dazai didn't know what to do with himself. He felt…idiotic. As his head cleared, he realized how much of a fool he had made of himself.
Maybe he should kick Chuuya out and save face. But how could he, when Chuuya was being so nice?
Fuck, they hadn't spent time like this since they were teens.
Chuuya began to hum to himself, nearly startling Dazai. Soon, though, it became a balm to the migraine Dazai had been wearing ever since—well, since he had come home the day before.
It has been terrible, and Dazai decided to finally do something about it.
That was a mistake.
No more pills for Dazai.
“You know, I was almost surprised that you called. I certainly wasn't expecting it, but in the end, it wasn't that shocking,” Chuuya began to ramble, flitting about the kitchen. The smell of jasmine filled the air, the sound of the kettle heating up following suit.
Dazai didn't respond.
That didn't deter Chuuya, who continued to speak.
“I remember doing this for you when we were younger. Seems like you haven't changed much. Which, I guess, isn't that bad.” A pause. “Nevermind. It is that bad. You're still incredibly annoying.”
Despite the insult, Chuuya’s voice held no real malice. He was simply talking to fill the space between them.
“Although, I've seen how you act around the agency. You look almost…happy. Well, at least moderately so. I'm not sure if it's the people around you or you, but something certainly has changed. It's probably for the best that you left. The Mafia was not good for you.”
Dazai tensed. Chuuya—he wasn't mad? Just as Dazai opened his mouth to speak—if he could—Chuuya interrupted with a dry chuckle.
“It's not good for anyone. But, hell, what can you do?” Chuuya’s back was facing Dazai, obscuring any view of his face, and yet Dazai could see it clearly: melancholy and bitter-sweet hatred.
The Mafia was both a home and a cage for Chuuya.
Dazai gulped, brows furrowed. There were too many emotions at once and too much going on. His head was killing him, his throat was scorched, and his body felt like it had been run over with a truck. He was unable to process everything that was happening. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe, for now, he could simply exist. And listen to Chuuya speak.
The tea kettle whistled, harsh and abrupt. Dazai hadn't been paying attention to it.
“Alright. Since tea is almost done, I'll start on some food soon. Don't worry, it'll be easy to eat.”
It didn't take long for Chuuya to finish with the tea, bringing it over to Dazai, who he helped sit up enough to drink.
The warmth flooded his mouth first, burning the roof of his mouth and melting his taste buds, but—dammit—it was worth it. That aching pain in the back of his throat soothed enough for him to talk.
“Woah—” Chuuya beat him to it. “Be careful. It's hot.”
“I noticed,” Dazai croaked.
With a laugh, Chuuya brushed his fingers through Dazai’s hair. Dazai continued to drink, watching as Chuuya looked away in thought.
He was likely debating what he was going to cook.
When Chuuya glanced back, Dazai raised an eyebrow. There were no words needed. Chuuya understood.
He always did.
“I'm thinking soup, but you'll likely complain. Think you can eat some cereal?”
Dazai nodded.
He would have complained if Chuuya had served him soup for breakfast.
“Cool. I'll be back.” He pressed a kiss against Dazai’s forehead before standing once again. He walked back into the kitchen.
Dazai watched his back the entire way.
He—what? Dazai short-circuited, his mind shutting down. Chuuya hadn't kissed him since they were eighteen. Four years. And, shit, Dazai missed it. He missed Chuuya and what they once had. He missed waking up in the mornings next to him, he missed falling asleep in Chuuya’s arms. He missed the small, gentle moments they shared. Hell, he missed the screaming and throwing items across the room.
Fuck.
Dazai wouldn't cry. He didn't cry. Dazai Osamu never cried. Never.
Goddamnit.
With a shaky breath, Dazai brought the cup to his lips once more.
Did this mean Chuuya was back in his life? Or was this a one-time thing? Dazai didn't think he could handle it if it was.
“Stop overthinking and drink your damn tea,” Chuuya called over his shoulder, effectively shutting off all thought in Dazai’s mind. “I'm not going anywhere. Yet. I do need to go home at some point, but I doubt that'll be the end of our time together, knowing my luck.”
Dazai couldn't help it. He laughed.
Somehow, Chuuya knew just what to say. Maybe it was because they both knew what it was like to lose everyone and everything. Maybe it was because Chuuya understood Dazai’s loneliness. Or, maybe, it was because Chuuya understood Dazai.