It was cold enough now that Dazai could see his breath on the wind. He wanted to run with it over the bayside railing, to throw himself into the river. It was nearly twelve o’clock... maybe he’d try drowning during the lunch break.
“Dazai.” Kunikida called from further along the pier, so Dazai swung himself off the railing and moved towards his partner and their current young female client.
“What can I do for this lovely lady, Kunikida-kun?” He asked, all smiles and efficacious charm. Smiling was painful, on days like this. It was somehow more painful now than it had been back then when he had, arguably, hurt more often.
Well, maybe it wasn’t more painful. It was just harder to bear.
His secondary phone buzzed and Dazai opened the text immediately, because Kunikida thought it was incredibly rude to text in the middle of a conversation.
Slug: Could use your eyes on something I found. Bring your uptight partner, too.
Chuuya had dropped a pin and attached a photo along with the text message. Dazai waved it in front of Kunikida, who looked only a few tugs shy of a meltdown until he actually saw the photo.
“Guns.” Kunikida adjusted his glasses, grabbing the phone from Dazai to send himself the pin.
“Looks like military grade assault rifles. Let’s go~!” Whatever it was, it was more interesting than taking a statement regarding some petty theft.
“Fine.” Kunikida grumbled.
Twenty minutes later saw Dazai walking into an empty warehouse on Honmoku street. Chuuya was leaning against one of a few hundred wooden crates stacked inside, smoking.
“Where’s your partner?” Chuuya asked.
“You’re my partner.” He answered.
“Cut the shit, did you bring him?”
“What exactly does Chibi think he can do that I can’t?” Dazai reached into Chuuya’s left coat pocket and thumbed a cig out of his tin.
“Mountains of fucking paper work.” Kunikida walked into the space, moving along the walls and into the back to check for potential surveillance methods.
“You know, he grows on me with every meeting.” Chuuya smirked up at him like an asshole, and he pouted back until Chuuya laughed and offered him a light. “Look at this, though…”
Dazai took a long drag, holding the burn in his chest while Chuuya tore the cover off the crate he’d been leaning against. It was full of gun parts and munitions. “Black market weapons transport... no. Production.”
“Yea, can you work out who’s running it?” Chuuya asked.
“I have a few ideas.” More than. Dazai’s mind whirred, pleased at a task that required such singular focus. He distracted himself of it anyway. “Why did you call me?”
“Mori wanted this place raised to the ground last night. He also wanted everyone involved buried with it and no one’s fucking here.” Chuuya drew a hand through his hair, tugging at it in the manner he always did when he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. He had likely been out all night, tracking this place down. “You are, regrettably, my best bet at figuring out who they are and where they’re hiding.”
“You know, the agency won’t kill these men.” Dazai replied, nodding in Kunikida’s direction as he watched the man comb through the warehouse, taking copious notes and photos as he went.
“That’s fine, I can kill them after they’ve all been fucking arrested. Makes my life easier.” Chuuya lit himself another cigarette.
Dazai laughed. He didn’t feel guilty either, hearing Chuuya’s plans to slaughter the men he would help the agency find and put to trial. Maybe he should, he wasn’t sure.
Kunikida couldn’t possibly have overheard their conversation, but he was suddenly staring at Dazai from across the warehouse like he’d grown a second head. Chuuya looked like he understood whatever that was about, though, because he put on a cocky grin and called him over.
“Oi, Kunikida, wanna come to the cafe in Yamate-cho with us after I put this place in the fucking ground?”
Kunikida walked over, scribbling furiously in his notebook. “No, thank you, Nakahara. There’s a lot that needs to be processed regarding this discovery. I’m going back to the office... Dazai, please meet me there after you’ve gotten something to eat.”
When they got to the cafe Chuuya ordered for both of them, as usual. Dazai didn’t mind. Unnecessary conversation was tiring, particularly when he was feeling the ache around the emptiness more strongly than usual.
“Hello, I’d like a plain bagel with butter, a warmed blueberry muffin and two coffees. One black, the other I want you to fill three-fourths of the way with cream and sugar and then add coffee until it’s full, and if you can’t follow those simple directions then don’t fucking serve it to me. ”
They hovered a few steps back, watching the terrified barista prepare their order for a few minutes until Chuuya grabbed a tray off the pick-up counter and led Dazai towards a two-person table in the corner of the cafe.
“Chibi should be a little nicer to the people making his food.” Dazai commented as he took a seat, noticing that they were situated next to the window but also directly under the heating unit, which didn’t make sense, because Chuuya was always hot.
“Says the man who regularly asks waitresses to commit suicide. If I was a little nicer I wouldn’t get what I want.” Chuuya argued.
“Hm...” Dazai wondered if that was something Chuuya really believed, or if it was just something he thought he should say.
“Sorry, I'm… I've been out since two in the morning.” He ran his right hand through his hair again and sighed. “Eat your muffin, before it gets cold.” Chuuya smiled at him softly. It was an expression Dazai was trying to learn how to mimic convincingly. To work his face into communicating the vague, unparsed things inside him.
They ate and drank in a calm sort of silence for a while. Dazai hadn’t actually had a muffin before. Fancy European breakfasts were more Chuuya’s area of interest but, it was good. Soft, and not too sweet.
“I gotta go home, Mackerel.” Chuuya mumbled eventually. He looked like he was barely keeping his eyes open, despite the coffee.
“Perfect. I didn’t sleep either.” It would be nice to go back to Chuuya’s apartment. His bed was large, and excruciatingly soft. Chuuya’s body was warm to be near, too, and he made the most ridiculous faces in his sleep. Dazai already had over a hundred saved in his phone.
Chuuya’s eyes narrowed at him from across the table. “Kunikida said you have to go back to work.”
“And you have to listen to everything Kunikida says now?” Dazai argued, but Chuuya was already shaking his head.
“Stop being shitty. Go to work.”
Dazai pouted at him from across the table, watched his expression soften again with fatigue and maybe a little fondness, he couldn’t be sure.
“Fine. Go to work for at least an hour. Then you can come back to my place and lay down next to me as long as you don’t fucking wake me up.” Chuuya compromised.
Dazai cut himself open at the wrist on Wednesday, after deciding that blood had no business being inside a thing so empty.
He didn’t get it right though, only nicked a vein, but he leaned against the wall and watched the blood spill out anyway, dark and slow until he grew dizzy with the effort of holding his eyes open. It was almost nice, like being rocked to sleep.
Until Chuuya violently slapped him awake.
“Wake up, you fucking asshole!”
“Hey, Chibi.” Dazai’s cheek was warm where Chuuya had slapped him. He wondered how long the warmth would last, and if he could ask Chuuya to do it again once it faded.
“This will hurt, but your ass fucking deserves it.” Dazai blinked, turning his head to see that Chuuya was already holding a small needle and medical thread. He must’ve gotten the suture kit out while Dazai was still unconscious. He wondered how long he’d been unconscious for.
Not long enough.
“How did you know?” Dazai asked as Chuuya began threading him back together. It did hurt, but Chuuya’s fingers around his wrist were warm and gentle. He sighed a little, part for pain and part for that churning, hazy relief touch always gave him.
“Ran into Kunikida on a job yesterday. He told me you called him, you were having thoughts again.” Chuuya spoke softly, but his eyes were shadowed.
Was that expression anger?
“I’m always having thoughts, Chibi.” Never good ones, sometimes useful ones. Well, useful to someone else. Dazai could only ever use his own thoughts to hang himself with. He should’ve tried that, actually, it wouldn't have made as much mess.
“Call me, next time.” Chuuya’s voice was firm, determined. Dazai didn’t deserve the effort. “Stop that.” Chuuya growled.
“Stop what?” Dazai asked.
“You’re spiraling. I know you.” He didn’t, and Dazai wished he never would. No one who knew him would stay, and then he’d need to face the loneliness again, only it would ache more.
“All right. I’ll call Chibi next time.”
“Good.” Chuuya rewrapped Dazai’s wrist in a new bandage, cutting the old one away at his forearm. “Wanna get takeout and watch a movie?” He asked, kissing briefly against Dazai’s open palm. It was almost as warm as the slap had been.
“Good answer. Whatever you want as long as it’s not one of those holiday films about kindness and shit.”
Chuuya said kindness like he wasn’t, for all his violence, still the kindest thing in the universe to have ever touched Dazai. To have known him, even at the height of his cruelty, and touch him softly now, in spite of it. Dazai let Chuuya lift him up and then lay him back down on the futon.
He would try calling Chuuya, next time.
Next time came three days later. Some weeks were just like that. Dazai stared into the sky, closing his eyes. Chuuya picked up on the second ring.
“I’m on the landmark tower.” He had to give Chuuya credit, because his breathing didn’t change at all.
“All right. Can you tell me about the view?” Chuuya asked.
“It’s too foggy for that today, Chibi.” And maybe he should die on a day when he could see the city a little better. That’s why he’d called Chuuya.
But the rolling mist did look inviting, in its own way. Sinking into that.
Would it feel soft?
“I bought a yukata yesterday, can you predict the color?” Chuuya’s voice tugged his thoughts into a different shape.
“Red.” He could picture it.
“It’s supposed to snow a bit tomorrow, do you have gloves? I can bring you a pair.” Chuuya’s voice was too gentle, it stung.
“Chibi, I don’t want to be alive tomorrow.”
“You know, it’s been a while since it snowed on a Sunday in Yokohama.” Chuuya continued.
“Seven hundred and fifty-eight days.”
“There’s my prodigy.” That ached a little. Dazai had been someone’s prodigy a long while, had been carved up until that became the only thing he was. He looked down at the city beneath him, covered in a blanket of white that wasn’t snow.
Being Chuuya’s prodigy was different. It was.
“Did you finish that book you left at my place last week?” Chuuya asked.
“Not sure, you’ll have to come pick it up.”
“I’d rather not, actually.” Maybe, on some level, Dazai had heard the small footsteps coming up behind him; but he was hearing so much at once he couldn’t process the sounds of the world around him from the sounds tearing in his own mind, so Chuuya’s arms slid around his middle and he was carried off the ledge.
“Oh.” He mumbled, stupidly. “You came.” Dazai hung limp in Chuuya’s grip, feet dragging along the ground while the other held him around the chest. He let his head drop forward as Chuuya lowered him to sit on the ground.
“Give me an address, I come running. Isn’t that how this works?” Chuuya moved to stand in front of him now, reaching his arm out to help Dazai drag himself upright. And that... the implications of that were more than he could bear.
“I…” Dazai couldn't say what he felt. Could hardly understand it.
“Shush. Come with me.”
They walked back to Chuuya’s apartment, and Dazai felt as though he was disappearing with every step. The hollow space inside him was growing larger and larger, the edges of it aching more acutely with each expansion.
When they got back Dazai fell against the door as soon as it closed, letting his head dip downwards. Chuuya helped him out of his coat and vest and tugged him into the main room.
“How bad is it?” Chuuya brushed ungloved fingers against Dazai’s cheekbone. It was vaguely grounding, but Chuuya was trying to fight an enemy Dazai had surrendered to a decade ago.
“Ten.” He tilted his face further into Chuuya’s hand.
“Really?” Chuuya asked. They had worked out a system for this. Dazai would rate his pain on a scale of one to ten. If he was at an eight or a nine, he could have a half-dose of something or a drink to take the edge off. If he was at a ten he could take a painkiller. Anything below and Chuuya would only offer more sober comforts.
“Yes.” Dazai slid his arms over Chuuya’s shoulders.
Please believe me, even if you have no reason to do so.
“Okay.” Chuuya tucked a bit of hair behind Dazai’s ear. “Let’s see if we can knock it down another way first.”
“Okay.” Dazai sighed, letting himself be led into Chuuya’s bedroom and then into the adjoining bathroom’s shower. He slid in and out of awareness as Chuuya undressed and unwrapped him, letting the water warm up.
He felt Chuuya scrub gently at his skin and rub some obscenely expensive shampoo into his hair until he fell forward, Chuuya’s body holding him up under the spray of the shower head. It was getting harder and harder to focus on anything but the swelling pain rising in him like the tide. He needed to lie down. He needed to get high.
He wondered if Chuuya could slit his throat open with his teeth.
“Please, Chuuya.” Dazai pleaded like the ugly, broken thing he was.
“You’re going to hurt, tomorrow.” Chuuya cupped his cheek again. He was too concerned, in the worst way.
“I won’t make it to tomorrow like this.” Dazai wanted to crack his head open against the tile floor as it was, only he knew Chuuya wouldn’t like to see all that blood in his fancy white bathroom.
“Okay. Fuck… okay.” Chuuya turned the water off and it was easily the coldest Dazai had felt all day. He let Chuuya towel dry his hair and his body, but dressed by himself and crawled into the bed while Chuuya stole away into whatever secret place he stored Dazai’s meds in.
Chuuya came back, pressed two pills and a glass of water into Dazai’s hand before turning around to get himself dressed in a pair of sleep sweats and an athletic tank top. Dazai took the pills immediately, trying not to clench his jaw from the maddening ache of existing.
Chuuya lay down next to him, taking his hand and dragging his lips lightly against Dazai’s wrist and knuckles. It was a habit he had that Dazai stupidly hoped he’d never grow out of.
“How much longer?” He asked.
He ached for a century. A lifetime.
“How much longer?” Dazai asked again.
Oh, he wanted to die.
“Don’t cry, Osamu.” He let himself shudder in Chuuya’s arms despite the command, gasping at the cruelty of everything he was and everything around him while Chuuya stroked his back and whispered words he couldn’t focus enough to understand into his ear.
And then it stopped. Time slowed and Dazai could breathe, suddenly.
It felt warm. Comfortable. A softening of a hardness in his body he'd forgotten he was holding onto. He let the air he was holding in escape him, sighing into Chuuya’s shoulder and drawing his arms tighter around his waist.
“You good now, babe?” Chuuya asked, and Dazai was good. Chuuya was lovely, though. Dazai turned his head up to look at him. He was beautiful. He was everything. Dazai felt himself smile a bit. He couldn’t help it. He was feeling warm, and a little weightless.
“Can we have sex?” He asked, blinking his eyes up at Chuuya in a way he knew the man found attractive, for whatever reason.
“No.” Chuuya smacked him on the shoulder, and Dazai would take that if he couldn’t have the other, easy. Any sensation at all.
“Please, Chuuya.” He leaned in to kiss Chuuya’s neck, because it was pretty and it was right there. He may have ended up licking it more than actually kissing.
“You aren’t in a state to consent right now.” He groaned, clutching Dazai’s shoulders as he started to suck at the space above Chuuya’s collar bone.
“I consent to you all the time. Yes, Chuuya. Fuck me.” Everything about Chuuya’s obsession with consent was ridiculous. Dazai had never consented to anything that happened to him in his entire life, only he knew Chuuya was the best of it that was left.
“I just want to have sex with you when I don’t feel acutely terrible from go for once. C’mon Chibi, please.” Dazai interrupted Chuuya’s protest, put his serious face on for a moment because he liked to lean into the lightness oxycodone offered him, but he wasn’t completely blasted out of his mind, like if he had mixed it with something else or OD’d a little.
He was warm, though. Grew warmer still when Chuuya finally slipped inside him, smooth as ever, pressing kisses into his knuckles, his palm, his ruined wrist.
Chuuya moved in him with such powerful grace it took Dazai’s breath away every time. He could work a hundred years on the side that saves people and never deserve anything Chuuya did to him.
After, Chuuya brought a warm rag from the bathroom to clean them both up. He must have been drooling a little because the first thing Chuuya wiped was the side of his lips and neck. He let himself laugh, because it was funny and because he still felt light and pleasant.
“I shouldn’t... God I shouldn’t love you like this but I do.” Chuuya’s voice was thick with some kind of suffering as he wiped the cum off Dazai’s stomach.
Dazai could understand that. Chuuya shouldn’t love him at all. It was a miracle he did. Not the kind of miracle that came from the goodness of the universe either, but a darker kind, borne of pain and deals made in desperation.
“Come here, Chibi.” He reached out anyway, to pull him in and hold him under, for as long as he was able. Chuuya let himself be held, a rare opportunity, and Dazai had never been anything other than wretched from the start so he would take what he could get even if it broke them both.
Dazai woke with a chill set in his skin. He felt heavy, lifeless. Chuuya was snoring slightly behind him, and Dazai turned and curled into him as much as he could without waking him up, closed his eyes and counted to three thousand, which is when Chuuya woke up.
“Hey.” Chuuya blinked at him, slid his hand out of the sheets to stroke Dazai’s back.
“How do you feel?”
Awful. Dead. Empty.
“Cold.” It wasn’t a lie, but Chuuya kissed him like he knew the things Dazai hadn’t said anyway.
It was nice, Chuuya’s kisses. He was especially generous with them in the morning, his touches slow and lingering. After a while, Chuuya seemed to wake up more completely and Dazai found himself being pressed flat against the bed and fingered open with lube that had appeared from God knows where.
“I’m gunna fuck you now, all right?” Chuuya asked, and all Dazai could do was whine and nod his head. Chuuya’s cock was thick and hot as ever, filling him entire, and he closed his eyes and tried to picture the motions of the man behind him.
The pressure at his back continued for what felt like hours, and his mind wandered away from the warmth of it without his permission. He remembered, suddenly, another body behind him. A colder, larger one. One who ripped away more than he stuffed inside.
“Pretty, empty thing.”
That's what he was.
“With me, babe?” Chuuya pressed a wet kiss against his spine, drawing him out of the reverie. Mori had never been one for affectionate gestures during sex. Neither had Chuuya, initially, and Dazai enjoyed the change more than he would ever say.
“Always.” Dazai rocked himself back on Chuuya’s dick, because it was Chuuya, and Chuuya loved him. Dazai knew because he had said it out loud.
“Liar.” Chuuya argued.
“Dazai.” Chuuya thrusted into him harder and Dazai felt him shudder and come apart.
“You’re so fucking good.” Chuuya lay atop and inside him a while longer, slow and sleepy again.
“How’d you know, before?” He asked when Chuuya finally slipped out, crawling up to lay at his side.
“You went quiet, and stiff. Usually when you go quiet from a good fuck your body stays relaxed.” He brushed Dazai’s bangs back from his face, and the fact that Chuuya could know tells Dazai didn’t even realize he had made him feel… something.
“Chuuya…” He couldn’t say what he meant. He could lie and cheat and play the parts he needed to but he could never say what he truly meant. The emptiness inside him expanded whenever he tried. It was so lonely.
“Hey.” Chuuya stroked his hair back again, tucking it behind his ear. “I’m here, babe.”
“Chibi…” Dazai turned himself onto his side, to face his partner more fully. Chuuya draped his leg over Dazai’s hips, drawing their bodies together.
“Fuck, Dazai. You didn’t even come.” Chuuya sounded disturbed, and Dazai couldn’t imagine why.
“It doesn’t really matter.” Dazai reached out to touch his cheek but the man shook him away, pulling back.
“What… you can’t fucking mean that. God I’m so shitty. I should’ve seen it sooner. I should’ve stopped. I fucked you through a flashback. Fuck, I’m such a-”
“Shush. You pulled me right out of it. I just…” Dazai struggled.
“Communication is paramount to any victory.” Mori-san would say.
“I like being able to touch you, or look at you, sometimes.” Dazai reached out again, slid his right hand into Chuuya’s hair.
“The position?” Chuuya asked, settling down a little.
“Yea.” Kind of. He liked being filled, he liked Chuuya inside him. There was just so much emptiness, he needed so much more than anyone else would to feel even a shade of pleasure inside himself.
“Stop that.” Chuuya’s voice broke his thoughts apart.
“Thinking you’re abnormal, or something.”
“Chibi should talk.”
“Fine.” Chuuya grumbled. “We’re Yokohama’s deadliest fucking outliers. Now come here and let me cuddle you, because I know you like that and my pride needs to be fucking satisfied.”
“Okay.” Dazai sighed as Chuuya threw his arms out to pull him in, pressing his cheek against Chuuya’s sternum and cradling his head so gently he felt like his brain was being stuffed up with cotton. Then he draped his leg over Dazai’s and pressed their bodies flush again, and it wasn’t sexual but it was warm and Dazai did like it.
A week later he broke into Chuuya’s apartment on their shared day off.
He knew Chuuya had gotten a copy of the key to his agency dorm already, but Dazai still enjoyed reminding Chuuya on a consistent basis that some petty lock was not going to stop him from harassing the other at all hours of the day.
It had been some time since he’d broken in to do anything wild while he knew the man was sleeping, though. Dazai wondered if that’s what it meant to show love. To not wake someone up when they were sleeping.
He slipped into Chuuya’s bedroom directly after he heard the shower shut off.
“Oi, Dazai.” Chuuya grinned as he walked out of the master bathroom, looking unsurprised to see Dazai lying on his bed. “I have something to show you that you won’t be able to fucking predict.” Chuuya’s tone was cocky as ever. Dazai watched as he pulled the towel from his hair and wrapped it around his waist.
What could it be…
“Did Chibi grow a centimeter while I was away?” He asked.
“Fuck you, stupid lamp post.”
Chuuya turned around.
“Oh.” Dazai blinked in surprise. Chuuya had gotten a tattoo.
“Yea, oh, you fucking dimwit. This baby took ten fucking hours. Did it in one sitting.” He sounded incredibly pleased with himself, to have paid to have his skin assaulted for ten hours.
It was... breathtaking , and excessive, like most things about Chuuya always were. It was a Phoenix, wings spread in an arc towards the sky, latticework of feathers stretching across his shoulder blades, the curve of its tail trailing down his spine. It held in its talons a writhing Chinese dragon, whose flaming cries danced along his ribs in gold and orange watercolor.
“Can I give you a prediction now, Chibi?” Dazai walked towards the place where Chuuya bared his back. The redhead tilted his head up to face him, wet hair coiling over his shoulders.
“What is it?” Chuuya asked.
“You’re going to get back into the shower, and so am I, and then you can have whatever you want from me for the rest of the evening.” Dazai tried to put as much of the desire he felt in his chest into the expression on his face, and he must have done well, because Chuuya spent the better part of the next two hours fucking him open against the shower wall.
They drew the curtain to the side, so Dazai could look up into the vanity mirror and watch the glistening Phoenix on Chuuya’s back rise and fall as he thrusted up and into him over and over.
Ten days after that Dazai fucked up on a job and let some young ability user with a sword slice him across the stomach. Yosano had stitched him up afterwards but the wound was big, drawing all the way from his left hip to the right end of his ribcage.
It was painful.
His whole frame pulsed and swirled with the ache of it. Pain wasn’t new, but sometimes it became too much to fathom. He wanted to sleep. To die, maybe.
“Ten days off the field. Five at home.” Yosano ordered, before she and Atsushi half-carried him back to his apartment, dropping him where he now lay atop the futon, aching and trying not to scratch at the wound.
The pain in Dazai’s life was so constant at times that it felt almost like belonging. It was kind of nice, to belong to anything, even if it was to be in pain.
It had long since grown dark when Dazai heard the latch to his apartment slide open, and soon after Chuuya came into the bedroom.
“What the fuck happened!? Kunikida texted me you got stabbed.”
“Sliced is a better word. It’s shallow, just long.” Dazai watched as Chuuya threw his coat, hat, gloves, vest, and dress shirt off and into the corner of the room, before kneeling down over Dazai’s stomach. His fingers hovered above the dressing.
“What do you need?” Chuuya’s tone made Dazai think he could ask him to level a city block just because he wanted to watch it fall.
“Fuck me.” He asked instead.
“You were fucking stabbed today.” Chuuya sounded surprised. He should know better, by now.
“I can’t believe I’m in love with you.”
“Me neither. Does that mean I get what I want?” Dazai stared up at Chuuya, watched as his face softened.
“We’re doing this my way, and you’re communicating with me the whole time, and I’m gunna take a fucking shower first.” Chuuya sounded like he was planning a ten kilometer run in a blizzard rather than sex with a lover.
“Fantastic.” Dazai chirped.
Chuuya’s ‘way’ turned out to be very different than Dazai had originally predicted. Instead of turning him over or hooking his legs back, Chuuya knelt over Dazai’s body and sat down on his dick.
They hadn’t done it like this before, but Dazai sighed into the feeling immediately. Chuuya was warm around him. He felt like he was being held, like he was being loved.
Was this being loved?
“How do you feel... are you good?” Chuuya asked as he rose and fell above him, gentle and slow and absolutely gorgeous. Dazai reached out to press a hand against Chuuya’s, clutched at his hip with the other. He noticed Chuuya’s brows had knit together slightly.
“Yes. Why is Chibi so concerned?”
“Your face is blank.”
“Oh.” He tried to work his face into an expression, but couldn’t decide what was right...
“You don’t have to put one on, just wanted to make sure you were good.” Chuuya sped up a bit, taking him in deeper. He groaned, helpless.
“I’m good, Chuuya.” Chuuya was always too good to him.
Please, stay. Let me keep you.
After, as they lay together, Dazai caught himself imagining what meal Chuuya would make tomorrow. Caught himself almost looking forward to watching Chuuya cook, which he always did with some impossible combination of cocksure attitude and quiet grace.
“What are you thinking about?” Chuuya asked.
“I want Chibi to make me waffles tomorrow.”
“You’ll eat what I fucking serve you.”
“Of course.” Dazai laughed, nuzzling himself into Chuuya’s warmth and closing his eyes. For once, he wasn’t just folding into the relief of sleep, he was vaguely anticipating waking up. It hurt a bit. Having these softer thoughts only drew his awareness towards the rarity of such things in his mindscape, but it was still, for now, a bit more beautiful.