Archive of Our Own ^beta

— 00:48.

The struggle for the dominating hand in the squarrel Chuuya was having, was a spookingly thrilling one. The pattern of dodging and dealing a blow was getting tiring. He could feel it in his bones, as if they were being pierced by millions upon millions of tiny needles at the same time, only to shatter and be repaired again for the process to start anew. He, and the entirety of the Port Mafia, took pride in his more than capable physical prowess and ability to handle himself in a fight. He wasn’t the Port Mafia’s best martial artist for nothing.
That, however, did not make him invincible.

Sacrifices had to be made for the sake of this mission, and will continue to have to be made.

Thus, Chuuya after dealing the final blow to the pesky ability user, was unfortunately hit with the ability himself. It happens. If only the goal of this entire mission to execute said ability user, was to not get hit by their ability. The exact nature of the ability was unknown, but the Boss warned them that the victim somehow underwent personality change after being hit. Half of the Port Mafia were unsure as to whatever that could mean but nodded along politely to the Boss’ explanation after all.

But, as he said, it happens.

— 01:03.

It took him exactly 15 minutes to wake up from after being hit by the enemy ability user’s enemy.
Ability name: unknown. Ability: unknown.

So, how was Chuuya feeling then?

Well, for starters, he’s alive. He’s alive, somehow in a perfectly comfortable position. Clothes are unscathed and uncharred. No damage taken whatsoever. If anything, it felt like Chuuya felt better after the battle rather than before. That one kink in his back got worked out during the battle too.
Huh, what luck.
Weather circumstances were fine too, it was a beautiful night. Light breeze to help deal with the early summer humidity. The stars were visible too.

Chuuya kicked out his leg and twisted it around. That confirmed his suspicions. He really wasn’t hurt. So the ability wasn’t meant to harm him physically. At the least, not immediately. He picked his coat up, which conveniently had fallen near him after the heat of the battle had passed. No tears, nothing.

Lucky.

— 01:57.

He was in one of the handful Port Mafia backed hospitals in Yokohama. Sure, he felt fine and all, but what if it fucked with him below the surface? And Mori personally gave the order that he go through a check-up. The risk of losing an executive was slim, but it was there nonetheless. He couldn’t even be mad.
Especially when the hospital room was one specifically designed to suit Port Mafia members. It didn’t have the typical look of a hospital room, thank fuck.

Chuuya had his hands crossed over his chest, laying down in the admittedly comfortable hospital bed. The results were clear, he was unharmed. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. He was free to leave as he wished. You can’t blame him from taking a small break from the ever so overtaxing duties of a Port Mafia executive.

He lulled the events of the fight over in his head. He hadn’t felt anything happen, that’s for sure. If it weren’t for the fact he can vividly remember the ability user patting his arm and the tell-tale light of his ability activating, Chuuya would’ve assumed nothing had happened at all. How strange.

— 09:18.

His body was conditioned to wake up early, and unlike other mafia members, he actually enjoyed that fact. It appears the coming of a new day was equally as excited to meet him too, considering how smoothly his morning went. His broken kettle which he had been meaning to replace for nigh weeks miraculously decided to start working again. Chuuya treated himself to a cup of chamomile tea, adding a teaspoon of honey with a soft, lazy smile. He had the day off as a reward for his success yesterday.

That, and Kouyou had ordered him to rest, saying that the Port Mafia had no use for a half dead executive.
He refrained from retorting back that they had a useless executive exactly as she described for 2 and a half years. He simply valued his life too much to try and sass Kouyou.

Chuuya clicked his tongue, spotting his phone yet on his coffee table and called upon For The Tainted Sorrow to bring his phone to him. He checked the news, nothing notable. There was this celebrity break-up though. What a shame, he had been rooting for them. Ah well, it happens. He checked his main bank account then, seeing that he’d gotten his pay for yesterday’s mission. He wasn’t supposed to get that until next week. What luck!

— 11:36.

Chuuya now found himself at a café he’d been meaning to visit for the longest time. Being more of a field agent rather than an office worker though, meant Chuuya rarely had the time to go out and treat himself. He was mostly confined to his online shopping cart and endless inner debating on if the clothes he wanted would be the right size or not. But now he’s here, he sighed blissfully. A warm latte cooling down by the second and an adorable bunny-themed strawberry cake.

But Chuuya, being ever the workaholic, could not help his mind drifting to work related matters or topics that usually caused him stress. Such as how the hell they’re gonna deal with that pesky drugs organisation. They’d been launching some new designer drug into the streets of Yokohama as if it were some fucking crêpes that you get at the tourist traps. What a fucking pain.

He lifted his latte to take a sip, closing his eyes, hoping that would somehow take the impending headache away. It didn’t.

His phone dinged, notifying him he got a message from Boss. You see, he’d downloaded a special alert sound for Mori’s messages. He was never going to admit where it was from out loud though. He valued his life far too much. Putting down his latte in favor of his phone, he saw one singular message from his boss.

11:43
Mori: Hello Chuuya-kun! I hope you are enjoying your day off. Do excuse my intrusion. But it appears that NPS gang has surrendered this morning. We are questioning them now. Greetings, Mori.

Holy shit. Well that’s fucking awesome. Less work, more time off!

— 12:01.

The memory of the smell of record shops was one familiar to him, even if it was rather faded by now. But it all is coming back now, as he enters one in search for a L’arc~En~Ciel record. The shopkeeper smiled at him and he nodded in response. There were some corners of Yokohama where he wasn’t Nakahara Chuuya, Port Mafia Executive but just another face in the crowd and he liked it that way.

Before he could continue the train of thought which was on the cusp of him overthinking his position in Yokohama, a teenage girl stumbled in front of him, holding a cup of coffee threatening to spill on him. Now, his reflexes were fast but reaction time and all that is unfortunately a thing too. It appears lady luck was on his side though today, because while the coffee got spilled on the floor, not even a single drop touched his clothes.

The poor girl began on a tangent of all sorts of apologies, saying she should have been more careful.

“Ah, don’t worry. I’m still dry.”,

He laughed, hoping to lighten the teen’s anxiety about messing up what, admittedly, was an expensive outfit.

Not the first time today, he felt he was incredibly lucky.

— 12:32.

Leaving the shop with two more records than planned, he thanked fate once again for his early pay, Chuuya was content and on his way to one of his favorite bars. They served a good white wine there, and he usually didn’t even bother with those.
Though upon being but a block away from said bar, he realized they might still be closed. It was only afternoon.

The sight that greeted him when he turned the corner, was a pleasant one. It seems they rebranded, and now opened at 12. Today apparently, was also the ‘opening day’.

“‘Free drink of choice’ huh...? Alright then!”,

He silently hissed a ‘Yes!’ afterwards.

— 13:01.

Chuuya feels watched. Actually, scratch that, he is being watched. By a cat.

The calico has been eyeing him with the intensity of grown man who has seen it all, went to jail, got out of jail, went back and then escaped. Fitting, somewhat. Considering how agile and sneaky cats are.

Let him paint the scene for you; Chuuya, enjoying a good red wine in this freshly reopened bar, now turned restaurant. Just taking in the atmosphere of some obscure electronic music artist playing in the background, and sitting alone on a white leather sofa seat. Truth be told, he was terrified and used his ability to make sure he didn’t spill the wine anywhere. That’d be a pain to get out or get replaced, he knew from experience. Let alone the embarrassment he would suffer.

It had been like that, for the past 15 to 20 minutes. And then he noticed it. A calico cat, covered in caramel, white and black patches. He dismissed the kitty as cute, if a bit out of place. Whatever. Not his problem, right?

Except it was his problem! The damn cat was staring at him like he personally killed its litter it came from. Not for 4 minutes or something, but a full 10 minutes! Without blinking too!
He knew he was more of a dog person, but cats never fucking scared him to this extent!
Chuuya decided he had enough. He was a Port Mafia executive for crying out loud. Cut the threat off by its head. And that’s exactly what he was going to do.

“Pspspsps. Here, kitty kitty!”

The cat blinked. It couldn’t have taken more than 5 seconds for the cat in question to respond to Chuuya’s somewhat embarrassing calls. Once it reached Chuuya, the calico nudged its head on Chuuya’s leg. Nodded to a hallway leading to the bathrooms and went off.
Fucking Christ on a bicycle, even the cats in Yokohama were not to be messed with.

Chuuya, being a simple man, followed the cat. After downing the wine, of course.

— 13:13

Upon reaching the bathrooms, the cat was nowhere to be found. Now, Chuuya may be, admittedly, somewhat of a lightweight, but visual hallucinations weren’t even a fucking symptom of being drunk! And he didn’t even take any hallucinogens!

A man coughed. A cane tapped the ground, making him snap his head towards the source of the noise on high alert.

“Chuuya-kun. I believe it is about time we’ve met!”

A man the splitting image of the cat he saw earlier, an impossible feat of itself, seemingly appeared out of thin air. There was no one going in or out of the bathrooms he observed during his short stay in the main area of the restaurant. All the signs were leading to this man being an ability user. Transmutation ability it seems, considering the cat from before was nowhere to be seen and the color palette matched.

Not to mention the way the man addressed him and carried himself. Somewhat eccentric yet red, blaring alarms went off in Chuuya’s mind. This was a man of power, and Chuuya has to tread carefully.

“Who might you be?”

A smile. A gentle, genuine one at that. Nothing like the smiles Mori or even Kouyou shoot him whenever something above his pay grade is happening behind the scenes. No, the man radiates warmth. The man was a sight of true power, not earned by oppressing or subjecting others, but by wisdom, knowledge and heaven knows how much experience.

“Natsume Soseki, pleased to meet you. You see, I hate to get to the point this quickly, Chuuya-kun, but you have been hit by a rather pesky ability indeed.”

So he did get hit by that ability after all. Curious. There sure as hell were no side effects as far as he was aware.

Just one hell of a...

“Lucky day?”

Chuuya’s sapphire eyes snapped up to meet the older man’s golden brown eyes.

“Hm, you’ve figured it out then? Took you long enough! After all, Chuuya-kun, you are possibly the strongest ability user in Yokohama. After me, of course.”

“No way.”

An ability that induces luck? Impossible. The fact of the very existence of an ability able to warp fate is a hard thing for Chuuya to wrap his head around. But, he was the one with a god residing in him manifesting as an ability.
Not like he can say much on the topic of seemingly impossible or weirdly complicated abilities. No, definitely not when he is tortured everyday by the knowledge that there is a slimy mackarel bastard out there which can cancel every ability that has ever been gifted.

“Yes, strange indeed. But you most likely have questions, and are going to get answers to them very soon. Everything you’ve ever wanted to know, everything you’ve ever wanted. All will come to you in this period of, now, a little over 10 hours.”

“I don’t have any questions.”

That was a lie and they both knew it. He had millions of questions, ranging from what he was having for dinner tonight to if there was any chance that... Scratch that. Chuuya was not going down that path.

“Well. In the event you do have any questions, be prepared to find answers.”

Huh.

How hilariously ominous for an ability that increases his luck.

— 13:51

Chuuya went home after that...encounter. The two of them exchanged numbers and Chuuya found out by, well, pure luck, that this grown ass cat man is the one who mentored Fukuzawa and his boss. Seems like he’s truly going places now. Making powerful allies and all that stuff.

First thing he did upon reaching home was obviously throw his phone on the couch and proceed to faceplant in said couch, screaming into the pillows. Chuuya made a point mid-scream that the velvet of his couch was truly top notch and incredibly comfortable to just drool and scream into.

Second thing he did was open a 2010 DRC and retrieve his phone, mindlessly browsing through his Twitter and doomscrolling. Maybe he was waiting on something, or rather avoiding something. Hence the hiding out in his condo until the ability worked off.

Nothing to bother him here nope.

— 14:00

A series of rapid knocks. He didn’t recognize the pattern, he had a few direct subordinates who were allowed to bother him in his free time and he’d memorized their knocking patterns. Boss never visits, ane-san has the keys and shitty Dazai doesn’t have the manners to knock. Natsume-sensei would’ve texted beforehand. At least, he seems like the type to. He grabbed his gun and a few bullets from under his couch pillow and activated his ability. Better to be safe than sorry.

Moving towards the door he felt a sudden rush of adrenaline spike. Heart beating like it only does in the heat of the battle.

He didn’t bother checking through the peephole and opened the door with one hand, other arm stretched out pointing the gun point-blank at whoever had the audacity to bother him.

It was his self-proclaimed brother.

“My my, Chuuya. Not expecting any visitors were you?”

The gun was taken from him in one second and dismantled in less. The redhead’s look instantly switched from surprise to disdain.

“I didn’t know you left your basement, asshole.”

Yeah, their relationship had changed over the past few years. With Paul being there during all major events going down, and him genuinely trying to be a big brother to Chuuya, it’s safe to say that to some degree Chuuya has accepted Paul’s role in his life. Doesn’t mean he has to be screaming it from the rooftops or showing it to him though.

Paul laughed and took it as a sign to invite himself into Chuuya’s apartment, whistling lowly at the interior.

“So, what brings you here?”

Chuuya grabbed two wine glasses from his pantry. He was just sipping the wine straight from the bottle prior to Paul’s visit. He supposes that his ‘older brother’ won’t shy away from sharing bacteria but nonetheless, ane-san didn’t mentor him for him to act like a barn animal.
He poured a generous amount for himself and left the glass half-full for Paul who accommodated himself on the couch, warping his eyes everywhere and lingering on the stray book Chuuya had left on his coffee table. Some shit book about anger management and moving on.

Paul made certainly wasted no time in making himself at home, instantly seating himself on the couch where barely 10 minutes earlier, Chuuya had been slobbering and screaming into the couch. Paul made a point out of it to shoot a glance at the damp spot with raised eyebrows and dismiss it with a shrug.

Cheeky fuck.

Chuuya manoeuvred around his kitchen island with the two glasses in both hands, gun shoved into the waistband of his old FW17 Saint Laurent trousers, he really needed a new pair now that that menace Slimane was finally gone. He handed a glass to Paul who muttered a thank you and shot him a semi genuine smile in gratitude. Chuuya placed his own glass on his marble coffee table. Paul copies his actions after sneaking in a small sip.

“Is it a crime to visit my darling younger brother?”

Considering the line of work they’re in, it might be. But Chuuya already knows that the ball has been sent rolling, and his answers will come sooner rather than later. Just his luck.

“C'est connerie, Paul. Dis-moi pourquoi, franchement, cette fois.”

[That’s bullshit, Paul. Tell me why, honestly, this time.]

“Eh? I thought you’d have been able to figure out my true intentions by now.”

Way to go, Paul. He sounded like a fucking super villain to Chuuya. And hell, with how things stand as of this moment, he probably knows more about Paul’s intentions or purpose of the visit than Paul himself does.

In any case, his self-proclaimed older brother takes the hint. Not before taking another gulp of his wine of course and sighing a tad bit dramatically.

“I’m coming out of the shadows.”

“Congrats but half the Port Mafia already knew that.”

Oh sue him, Paul himself up for that.

And the man had graciously enough could see the humor in it too, if his chuckle was anything to go by.

“Why the switch?”

“Not much choice I got. These new rookies are a waste of time. Us executives do more grunt work than them nowadays. And perhaps I’m a bit tired from overworking kids no older than 12 and turning them into serial killers, Chuuya. That, and Mori commented on the fact I’ve gone all pale and pasty with my lack of vitamin D. Truly a nightmare.”

Chuuya laughed.

Yeah.

He avoided the basement at all costs, not just because he didn’t want Paul singlehandedly destroying both of their reputations by acting like the overprotective older brother he is, but also the eeriness of the place which was heightened by the fact that there wasn’t a single room in that place without artificial lighting. Just the thought of entering the underground floors gave him a migraine.

He picked up his wine and hummed in question.

“Ah. Boss said it was A-okay. Truth be told, we’ve been turning more and more into the good guys and that weretiger kid’s influence has even reached Mori. Not that I’m quitting my job as the Port Mafia’s personal assassin trainer of course. Just going to be implying some ethics into our hits.”

Well, that was about time if you asked Chuuya. But it truly was just his luck that the other day, he was wishing he’d be able to spend more time with Paul, ane-san and the boss. He can’t recall the last time the four of them shared a good wine watching over Yokohama. He can’t recall if there’s ever been such a time.

“That’s it?”

Big time lowballing the situation, but he wouldn’t have made it so far in the Mafia if he was sentimental over every teensy tiny decision the higher-ups, including him, made.

Paul simply nodded in response, choosing to drink more of Chuuya’s wine. No doubt he was thanking the gods that Chuuya seemed to be a in good mood today, at the least good enough for Paul to appreciate his younger brother’s wine for a bit. Of course, Chuuya for a split-second thought the ability wore off but Paul in that moment choked.

After a long coughing fit with Chuuya making a strange face to contain his laughter, Paul finally commented,

“Wrong hole.”

“That’s what she said.”

What? Chuuya’s twenty-two for Christ’s sake! It’s not like he’s in his mid thirties or something, he can still make, admittedly, childish jokes like that. If anything, he’s the most mature twenty-two year old he knows out there. Okay, yeah, maybe not much of a feat when the threat of an immature mindset belonging to a certain Dazai Osamu looms around Yokohama. Still counts, though.

Paul rolled his eyes with a scoff.

“Moreso, I wanted to check up on you. You know, you are my first visit after my release from the Port Mafia basement. Even though the sun is causing me a pounding headache and hurting my eyes, I still showed up to your little apartment, Chuuya. Aren’t you lucky?”

It’s obviously meant to be a teasing, almost mocking remark but Chuuya really doesn’t need the ominous reminder. Thus Paul gets a mumbled, “Whatever”, in response.

— 15:06

Paul finally left after sticking around for an hour, allowing the two to catch up on Mafia matters and personal matters alike. If they exchanged a few Netflix recommendations between each other, no one would know other than them. With this window of peace, Chuuya finally managed to let out a mix of a sigh, and a groan akin to something a caged animal would let out when it’s denied its food.

A loud ‘ding’ from his phone made him get up from his place on the couch. His phone left behind on the kitchen island. It was from an unknown number.

15:10
Unknown: 20 mins
Unknown: Pac
Unknown: can u bring ur umbrella with u its going to rain www

15:11
Sent: kys

15:11
Unknown: silly little chibi’s hat is eating away at his brain so he can’t rmb the fact i’ve been trying for my entire life!

15:11
Sent: L
Sent: Try harder

15:12
Unknown: T^T chuuyas so mean~

Seems like the ability wore off, because no way in hell was any form of interaction with Dazai— indirect or direct, lucky. Maybe it’s because of the bastard annoying nullifying ability. Maybe it’s because some things are laid in stone and are unchangeable, such as Dazai being an annoying piece of shit.

Ah, whatever.

It’s not like Chuuya’s going.

— 15:26

20 minutes later and Chuuya is standing at the entrance of an abandoned building, a former arcade, with an umbrella shielding him from the rain. Ah, he really hated it when the bastard was right. If he knew how to predict the weather, he should’ve worked for the news, goddammit! Not bother him!

“Come in~!”

Even the way he dragged out the ‘i’ in ‘in’ pissed Chuuya off. God. This is the worst.

“Just to be clear, I’m totally killing you today! You hear that, Dazai!”

With that, Chuuya closed his umbrella and shook it dry as best as he could. He stepped inside, taking in the nostalgic view. Him and Dazai used to rendezvous here if anything was amiss with either of them, or if Dazai decided to be generous with his so-called genius and let him in onto his plans. They usually involved putting Chuuya in harm, of course. He wouldn’t expect anything less from that menace to society.

“Wah! Chuuya listened to me and got an umbrella! Lucky~!”

No way. The fucking ability jumped? This is awful.

“I hope the rain is acid rain so you can finally die, you freak! Just tell me why you called me over, for fuck’s sake!”

No moment was wasted in hurting his throat. That seemed to be a common occurence were Chuuya in the presence of Dazai.

Dazai smiled at him, eyes closed and all, looking like the cheshire cat. Creepy fucking asshole. He seemed to ponder for a second, obviously meant to bait him, before deciding on a response.

“Hm? But where’s the fun in that? And besides! Can’t I call Chuuya over because I want to spend time with him? Tch, tch, tch. Y’know Chuuya, for someone who denies being a dog, you sure seem to come running like one whenever I call you!”

Just as Chuuya was about to retort, with his fists, mind you, Dazai seemed to be rummaging through the pocket dimensions in his coat. A few seconds passed and he finally found what he was looking for, it seemed.

He threw dog treats on the ground.

“For you, Chuuya!”

Ah. He seemed so smug with himself, Chuuya just couldn’t resist but charging at him and throwing the umbrella, wishing it’d go straight through him like a spear.
Of course, Dazai moved swiftly all too similar to those inflatable noodles you see at gas stations. How unlucky.

Dazai also took that moment of peace to make himself comfortable on the ground, seemingly having no problem with the moss growing out of the near ancient tiles and the general dirt most likely rubbing on his clothes. Well, trash did belong with trash. The taller shot him a look as if to say, well? What are you waiting for? Chuuya maintained his glare, not breaking eye-contact and Dazai dramatically sighed accompanied with an eye-roll before shrugging off his coat, allowing Chuuya to take place on the makeshift picnic cloth.

“Y’know, Chuuya, I still haven’t got the slightest idea what ability you got hit with the other night.”

Creepy. But expected.

“Well, neither do I.”

“Chuuya~”, that fucking infuriating whining tone he used never fails to make Chuuya wish that he could change his name, “you’re in the mafia y’know! You should really get better at lying.”

The man sighed.

“Fine. It was an ability increasing the victim’s luck. It works for 24 hours and then it wears off. You happy now, you damn mackerel?”

That did seem to satisfy Dazai indeed, if that slow blink of his signified anything. Chuuya internally shuddered at what the other man’s brain must be like right now. No doubt insulting Chuuya and wracking up theories as to what Chuuya’s state could do for him at the same time.

“Huh.”

“Is that it!?”

Dazai turned to look at him and with one of his more genuine, gentler expressions, chuckled.

“No wonder why today felt off for me. Chuuya really is selfish, isn’t he?”

Chuuya knew better than to answer, knowing Dazai was just thinking out loud for theatrics rather than expecting an actual, honest to God response from the redhead.
But before he could counteract his initial reaction to Dazai subconsciously dictating his behavior, Dazai’s mood switched.

“Well then. I guess the ability would explain this entire thing then.”

“What entire thing-!”

Dazai pressed his forehead to Chuuya’s. His dark eyes staring into Chuuya’s crystal-like ones. Breathing and all human functions alike escaped Chuuya. He knew nothing but Dazai. Dazai engrossed his entire being.

Fuck.

He should’ve expected this. Of course, he should’ve. It was an ability that amplified his luck, for fuck’s sake. For the past 6 years, he’s been harboring these damning feelings for Dazai. Wishing, praying to whatever deity is out there that they’d go away. Never once wished for them to be requited, because he doesn’t have that kind of luck. He just doesn’t. Not when he didn’t have the kind of luck to forgo these feelings, or move past them when the bastard left him and showed up on the side of the light.

Seemed like this ability wasn’t all that powerful either, because Chuuya was unlucky enough to forget that whatever the fuck was happening right now, was a possibility in the first place.

And because this was all caused by the ability tempering with fate, he has no way of knowing if this is real, or just induced by the ability.

“Ah. Chibi thinks too much, I can practically hear the cogs in his head creaking and threatening to break. Obviously, this is because I have been doomed to by fate to hold feelings for Chuuya.”

Oh.

Fuck.

Chuuya forgot how close the two of them were. Dazai’s voice broke him out the prison of his own mind, torturing him with questions.

“But I suppose this pesky ability catalyzed this scenario.”

Chuuya couldn’t hear a damn thing Dazai was saying. His luck went up to the max.

Even if it was only because Chuuya was too distracted by taking in all the small details on Dazai’s face. The redness and bumps under his skin no doubt due to the lack of sleep, nutrition and a good skincare routine. The bags under his eyes. The soft sparkle in his eyes, telling him so much more than Dazai’s own words ever could. The twinge of his lips, revealing a genuine smile, reserved for Chuuya. His surprisingly well-cared for hair, framing his face and unholy messy. The few odd scars, near his nose and and jaw. Ah. His jawline was sharp too, dammit.

“-Chuuya? Earth to chibi.”

“...Hah?”

Dazai broke their skin contact off to laugh at him. A whole full-body laugh, shaking and wheezing.

“Ah! Had I known little Chuuya could’ve been this much more interesting, I would’ve acted ages ago!”

“You bastard! What do you mean by ages ago!?”

Dazai shot him his world-renowned dead mackerel stare.

“You’re...really that dense? Chuuya. I have been intrigued, or as much as it pains me to admit it out loud, enamoured by you since the day we first met.”

Was this really luck? Was it really? When this piece of information tilted Chuuya’s world and everything he has ever taken for granted on its axis? No, it definitely wasn’t. That crafty bastard must have nullified the ability just by being in Chuuya’s presence. God damn this bullshit ability. In that moment, Chuuya relived every emotion he’s ever had the capability of feeling in his life. Anger, joy, grief, sadness and the worst of them all, love.

A weight on his knee made him once again jerk back to the reality he was currently imprisoned in. It was Dazai’s hand. He raised his head to take a look at the object of all of his desires, be it the desire to murder him or to love him and forever hold him dear. There wasn’t a single doubt in Chuuya’s mind that he was parroting Dazai’s perplexed expression from earlier.

“It’s not just the ability, if that’s what you’re thinking, my dear chibi mafioso. I do pride myself on my autonomy, as a matter of fact.”

No witty quip or anything for that matter from Dazai could be processed by Chuuya right now.

The implications of Dazai...confessing to him?— Was it even a confession, God!? It was all too much. Does this mean the two of them start dating now? He doesn’t have to...’confess’ back now, does he? He may have been reduced to a blank slate right now, but Chuuya still knew Dazai inside out. There was not even a whisper of doubt that Dazai knew his feelings were requited. Probably walked around with that knowledge for a long time too.

But God forbid Dazai Osamu wasn’t emotionally constipated and acted on his own feelings knowing they were requited without the interference of a luck-enhancing ability that tempered with fate.

Shit. This whole situation was well and utterly fucked.

“Chuuya, you’re torturing your already teensy-tiny brain with questions you can’t answer.”

That was odd. Dazai sounded concerned. He never sounded concerned. Fuck. The bastard really had feelings for him, huh?

“What does this mean then?”

Because of course Dazai Osamu is Dazai Osamu, it didn’t take him any longer than a split-second to come up with a response. Unlike Chuuya who was convinced that this had to be a fever dream and he was Alice falling through the rabbit hole.

“Nothing, and everything. It means whatever you want it to mean, Chuuya. It means we finally get over ourselves and label ourselves whatever term fits or it means we get along with our lives living in denial of each other’s feelings as I’ve done for the past 4 years.”

Of course the bastard knew that Chuuya caught feelings for him later than Dazai did for Chuuya self.

Chuuya scooted over, creating distance between him and Dazai. The latter schooled his expression back into something more artificial. Good. Now he knows what hurt Chuuya’s lived with for the past few years.
He lifted himself up from the ground, leaving Dazai to sit alone, desolate in the middle of their abandoned arcade.

He cleared his throat once, not for any use other than dramatic effect, proven by the fact that his pack of Bats appeared from out of his pocket and he wasted no time in lighting one up.

“You’ll be, uh, hearing from me.”

And with that, he left, not turning back once to see Dazai’s melancholy-filled eyes staring at the cloud of smoke following him.

Perhaps they lit up once he saw that Chuuya left his umbrella behind for him.

— 16:21

Chuuya arrived home, well and utterly soaked. He could manipulate gravity maybe, which included the density of water, but he’d rather be drenched than be walking around Yokohama with a red sheen around him. If he used his ability to make sure the cigarettes he chainsmoked didn’t die out because of the rain, that’s his business.

He stripped himself, lacking the grace and elegance he usually carried himself with, right in the hallway without even stepping a single foot further into his apartment. No use soaking the rest of his belongings.

He decided to deal with the heap of wet clothes burning a metaphorical hole through his laminate flooring later as he fished out his lighter and the thankfully not drenched box of Bats. With his microdoses of cancer in hand, and an impending headache, he made his way to his bedroom to swap his grossly sticky trunks for a nice pair of flattering Calvin Klein boxer briefs. He enjoys feeling sexy, so what?
If anything, he’d argue he deserves this after today.

‘After today’, as if the day was over.

It isn’t.

Which is why Chuuya rummaged through his closet, throwing various Saint Laurent pieces behind him, Guidi boots practically screaming his name to be worn already. He couldn’t be spotted wearing the Tabi’s in Yokohama. Not if he wanted to go through the day without getting teased. He briefly entertained the idea of swapping his usual hat for a Yamamoto one but damn it all if Chuuya wasn’t one pitifully sentimental son of a bitch.

Besides, with Verlaine now no longer hiding in the shadows, there isn’t a single doubt in his mind that his so-called brother has eyes on him 24/7.

3... 2... 1...

16:30
Unknown: Glad you didn’t wear the Yamamoto one!
Unknown: Though, I can’t lie, I would definitely steal back that hat mdr.

16:31
You saved ‘Unknown’ as ‘Ma putain de frère’.

16:31
Sent: stop bothering me
Sent: you should go back to the basement you putain souris

16:31
Ma putain de frère: PTDRRR

Ah. There really was something infuriating about seeing that old dinosaur use slang. More so than the fact that he’s watching Chuuya right now. He stuck his middle finger clear up in the air for good measure.

After putting on his clothes, with much difficulty — damn you, Slimane! — Chuuya was hit with instant regret. He’d wanted to swing by Araiya but he looked way too western to not be mistaken as a foreigner now. That, and his goddamn jeans definitely wouldn’t allow him to gobble down 3 bowls of sukiyaki as he was planning to. Ah whatever, he could just get some Mexican and head over to Aztecas.

God, now came the hard part. Doing his makeup.

— 17:38

About an hour later and Chuuya was sure his luck ran out.

Because of course, of course, Yosano Akiko, fucking ane-san and for some reason that was beyond him, Edogawa Ranpo were at Aztecas. And of fucking course, ane-san had known he was entering the moment his motorcycle was in earshot, so she had to wave him over.

Don’t get him wrong, Chuuya was incredibly supportive of whoever ane-san wanted to date and visited the shrine every once a month to thank the heavens that she decided to finally move on from men. But that didn’t mean he was looking forward to acting all cozy with the ADA members, Yosano included, even if he respected the woman. Hell, a good portion of that respect came from the horror stories he’s heard from Kenji.

“Chuuya, lad! C’mere!”

Judging by the light rose tinted sheen covering her face, she had some alcohol this evening. Kunikida, God bless his heart, seemingly was well in for it too, judging by the two empty Asahi bottles.
Just as he was approaching their table as he was ordered to by Kouyou, he got spooked by a strange brown colored shape appearing from under the table.

“Ah, found it~!”

Fuck. Fuck this damn ability, and fuck it’s mother too. Chuuya will perform a séance just to tell that damned ability user that Chuuya was going to fuck their mom. This damn ability has turned his life upside down and the 24 hours aren’t even over yet. Because of course he can’t catch a break and he can’t practice any autonomy over his own fate today.

The figure — Chuuya did not want to acknowledge his presence — blinked twice at Chuuya before ignoring him, focusing on whatever conversation had been going on before Chuuya barged in.

“C’mon take a seat, will you!?”

He shot Yosano a look. There was not a single doubt in his mind that she was the perpetrator to this situation.

“Ah... You see, Chuuya, me and Kouyou got into a drinking competition. Except it turned one-sided. After the first sip.”

Taking his seat that fate decided should be opposite of the mackerel, he nodded at the woman racking up an excuse he didn’t care much for.

“Oh? What an interesting ability!”

Fuck. He forgot about that too.

“I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“Well, you obviously do, Mr. Fancy Hat!”

Chuuya finally turned to look at the man, who was seemingly deducting everything about him with his eyes closed and his head turned towards the ice cream he was utterly demolishing, saving it not a moment of reconsideration for the poor cow who got milked for this fiasco.

“It really is, isn’t it.”

Dazai’s rather monotone, more than usual, voice broke whatever tense silence Chuuya and Ranpo had going on. God, it took an unholy amount of willpower to not instantly turn and check for Dazai’s expression. But him speaking, and acknowledging Chuuya’s presence reignited that spark of tension he and Dazai had.

“Hmm. You confessed, huh? And it didn’t go that well either, haha!”

Chuuya’s eyes moved of their own accord, just in time to catch the subtle wince in Dazai’s features. His resting expression tenses, the light clenching of his jaw and his eyebrows straining to maintain their neutal position in favor of moving into a frown. Dazai most likely acknowledged Chuuya’s eyes were on him, but nonetheless turned his attention to Ranpo.

“At least I confessed. How’s Edgar faring?”

Ranpo groaned out loud, sinking into his seat, a pack of gummies appearing from a secret pocket and Chuuya decided he did not nearly care enough about the detective’s candy stash to ask the table how he did that.

“Same old. Waaa, you’d think, right— You’d think he’s pretty smart and all that, even though he can’t beat me...! But! He’s so oblivious and dumb!”

Ah. So today is that sort of day huh.
The type of day where everyone around Chuuya suddenly erupts into a tsunami of love-related woes and refuse to stop complaining and whining about anything their object of desires does.

The type of day where reason is missing.

“-Dazai! How’d you do it? How’d you proclaim your undying love for Mr. Fancy Hat over here!?”

Many things happened in a split second. Chuuya’s brain processed the chain of events as such; Ane-san suddenly sobered up as if somebody had splashed her with a bucket of ice cold water. It almost happened in slow-motion, how she stood up and tried to charge at Dazai, yelling how she was going to forge a restraining order on him, if he ever came near Chuuya. That, or “Paul-kun” would have him killed.

They’re on first name basis now huh. How troublesome. Next thing Chuuya knows is that there’s a Chuuya fan club in the Mafia.

The sudden movement next to ane-san caught his eyes. Yosano-san, God bless her heart, held her lover back from trying to murder or at the least seriously injure her co-worker. She shot a glare at Ranpo, who erupted into laughter. And of course, the target of ane-san’s rage, saw her reaction coming from a mile away and scooted a bit further away, now fully face to face to Chuuya.

“‘Ne-san, it’s alright.”

Chuuya raised a hand to calm her agitated, drunk state down. Thankfully, that spark of sobriety seemed to win the battle against alcohol and she let Yosano sit her down, they were holding hands.

“Well. I just confessed to him, Ranpo-san. That’s all.”

Chuuya felt kind of bad for brushing responding to his crush’s — is Dazai really just a ‘crush’? God he needs a whole pack of Bats right about now! — confession off for later, but he had no idea what the following hours might hold for him yet. But he definitely felt a pang of guilt when he saw Dazai chug saké right after that statement. The brunette shot Chuuya a look. Somehow telling him, ‘Are you gonna say anything yet, or what?’ by not saying anything at all.

Oh whatever.

“So. What’s this about you and Poe, you shitty detective?”

— 19:23

Chuuya left about two hours later, stomach filled and somewhat dizzy. He learned a lot about the black-haired detective’s affections for Poe, half of it against his will, and managed to avoid any interaction with Dazai. He’d deal with that later, he promised himself and by extent also said bandaged bastard himself.

He found himself riding his motorcycle not to his home, but his second one. He parked his motorcycle in the Port Mafia’s garage and made his way to the elevator, greeting the poor guy who was on night shift for today.

Stepping out of the elevator, he took a moment to press pause on today. Was he really going to do this? Sure, his luck right now was maxed out but, this could cost him his job or maybe even his life. Ah, whatever.

— 19:39

He nearly forgot that he wished for this sight, but being met by it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless. The harsh orange sunset made Boss’ office glow, and their complexions too.

Verlaine, ane-san and boss were seated on one of the boss’ sofas, huddled around a bottle of red wine which sharply contrasted the marble white table it was resting on.

“Chuuya-kun, how nice of you to join us.”

Chuuya nodded and muttered his greetings to his employer as he slowly trudged over to an empty spot near Verlaine. Ane-san and boss took the two single seats. Dammit.
But nonetheless, he thanked fate for allowing him to spend his evening like this. He lucked out, once again.

Clinking his glass against the three others’, he remembered why he wanted to see the boss in the first place.

“...Boss, I’m sure you know by now, but the ability I got hit by is a luck enhancing one. I, uh, had quite an eventful day today.”

His eyes were cast downwards, staring into the ever so slightly swirling wine which hypnotised him.

“Is that so?”

Even without looking up, he felt Mori’s calculating eyes on his frame, looking for answers to questions Chuuya couldn’t even try to imagine. God, he was really going to push his luck in a bit.

“Say...boss... I had the pleasure to get acquainted with Natsume-sensei today. We made some small talk. He made a small comment before we part ways that really stuck with me, y’know? And well, I’m aware that this scenario already happened but...”

“Chuuya-kun, are you asking if you are to be my successor?”

Chuuya’s neck let out a nasty crack, which Verlaine winced at, with how fast he looked up. He instantly got caught in eye-contact with his boss. Instead of the cold far-off calculating eyes he predicted to meet, he was met with warm, mirth-filled ruby eyes.

Ah. He hadn’t answered yet.

He nodded, knowing that if he spoke he’d definitely start rambling and stuttering like he’s a 16 year old kid all over again.

“Well of course.”

Kouyou shook her head with amusement and Verlaine was less subtle with his views on this whole situation as he chuckled into his glass.

“You are the best fit to follow in my footsteps, you have the interests of the Mafia at heart and are loyal to not just this organization, but Yokohama herself. Besides, who am I to go against Natsume-sensei’s predictions, hm?”

Mori laughed, he fucking laughed at Chuuya’s obvious confusion easy to read off at his perplexed expression, eyes widened and jaw practically on the red carpet.

“Chuuya-kun, I know you may still think me the same as I was when we first met and that I will miraculously have Dazai-kun return to the Port Mafia, but I can and will not. Your old partner is less of a threat to this city over there, than here. I trust you, Chuuya-kun. This entire organization does.”

Fuck. When had he started crying?

“Boss, it seems you’ve made my little brother cry.”

Usually those words would be threatening, a useless warning for impending, inescapable doom. But Chuuya, despite his utter state of confusion at his bodily functions and the weight of boss’ words, heard the light amusement-tinged glee in his brother’s tone.

“Ah. It...really seems so.”

Chuuya’s fierce gaze, now clouded with crystal-like glimmering tears was still locked on Mori. He witnessed the kind eyes and warm smile on his face when he was speaking to him, he witnesses his small gasp at how one of his executives is seemingly breaking apart in front of him. The surprise was quickly taken over by mirth however, and dare he say it— fondness.

“Oh come on, lad. You really think we wouldn’t riot and leave if the Port Mafia was left in the hands of that fool?”

Chuuya somehow felt lucky and not lucky at all at the same time. To be surrounded by people who cared for him. Who poked fun at him for crying. Who had his back, no matter what. Who actually thought he was of importance to them, and not just a pawn. Fuck. He may have called it his second home, but it’s the only permanent home he’ll ever have, fate and all that be damned.

He only stopped the waterworks when he felt a rather harsh pat on his back, courtesy of his self-proclaimed brother, his nii-san, who rubbed his back affectionately. Ane-san— No, nee-san reached out for his hand which was resting on his knee. And his boss... Mori-san. Mori-san was smiling at the three of them fondly, taking in the sight of the most feared people in Yokohama comforting a certain crying redhead.

Well. The Port Mafia is his family after all.

— 21:15

With slight discomfort at how his cheeks were tear-stained and the skin somewhat dry, he tiredly reached home. He rejected numerous offers from his brother to drop him off. His skin was somewhat flushed, from both the wine he had and the chilly night air biting at his already sensitive skin.

Despite his earlier, ahem, theatrics— he certainly wasn’t in a elongated state of confusion and disorientation as before. If he didn’t have his reflexes and quick wit, he’d certainly be dead or killed at least a dozen times by now. Which is exactly why Chuuya, upon reaching his locked door knew something was amiss. Perhaps it was the light cologne in the air which he recognized as Amouage’s Memoir or the close to fading away fingerprints on his door. Perhaps it was one of the many glances Dazai shot him earlier this evening, at the least one of them meaning he’ll visit Chuuya later.

So, you can’t blame him for taking a U-turn, going a couple floors down to the shared park meant for the residents, and fishing a cigarette out of his pack. He took a seat on one of the cold benches in the shared space, and lit up his cigarette.

God. He had Dazai Osamu, the bastard who he may not love at all times, but has been with him through nearly every major experience in his life and who he’s positive he can’t imagine his life without, waiting in his apartment. The funny thing is, he really just can’t imagine life without Dazai. Even in those four years of complete radio silence, his Dazai-attuned subconscious told him whenever Dazai had been near a place or if he was close. Not to mention the sudden chaos in his wine stash, where they were preciously sorted on age— they were sorted alphabetically.

And now, the one thing he imagined impossible, had not even thought about when he figured out he got hit with an ability that warped fate in his favor, has come true. Dazai confessed that he’s been in love with him. With him. Chuuya doubts he feels love for the damn mackerel, no way, it’s pathetic to admit but the feelings go way beyond love. It almost feels demeaning to refer to what he feels for Dazai as ‘love’. It swallows him whole, his whole being has always been Dazai. Not a day passes where his thoughts don’t wander to his ex-partner, whether they be out of concern or anger.

He still had to come up with a response too. It’s not like he can embrace the younger with no questions asked and forgiving him for everything he’s ever pulled.

All ‘Ah, Dazai~ I love you so much, let’s do a double suicide!’ Yeah, right. No fucking way.

Chuuya’s never even entertained the possibility of his affections being requited. He was fine with it being one-sided, as long as Chuuya could get away with his feelings. And then this damn fucking ability had to interfere.

He angrily threw and stomped out his near burnt out cigarette, quickly lighting another one. He thinks, tonight his chainsmoking might be excused.

He let the slight burn in his throat reign him back to reality in favor of useless cursing at the already dead ability user. He knew that Dazai was most likely observing him know too, which made him feel twice as much pressure in regards as to how he should deal with this...predicament. It’s not even like that damn bastard’s expecting a confession back, he’s already known Chuuya loved him. Loves him. Fuck. He does not know nearly enough about Dazai right now. He gets the impression that albeit he’s still a miserable fuck, the miserable fucked is still less miserable in the ADA than in the Port Mafia. And that has given him the ability to be more human. Unfortunately for Chuuya, that also means Dazai actually acknowledges his feelings, especially for a certain mafioso.

The heavens hated him. He was sure all the deities and gods hated him. Because all this racking, and he still didn’t know how to proceed-

Oh.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

How is he so stupid!? That damn bastard may be able to acknowledge his own feelings now, but he wants Chuuya to acknowledge them too!
Fuck! That’s what he wants! And then, he’ll have some sort of fucked up plan that will definitely leave Chuuya nursing a nasty cough caused by extreme chainsmoking but who cares!

Chuuya knows what to do, and it’s to trust Dazai, as he’s always done.

— 21:30

“Took you long enough. I’m surprised you only kept it at three cigarettes.”

Huh. Chuuya was sure he smoked two. But a quick glance at his pack proved Dazai correct. He really did smoke three.

“It’s your fault, anyway. Gettin’ me to come out there and professing your love to me. Fucking bastard.”

A dramatic gasp, a flutter of eyelashes and a hand clutching his chest. And...encore!

“Chuuya! How rude... But then again I guess I’m the fool to expect any civilized behavior from a brute!”

Without missing a beat, and expertly multitasking taking off his outer layers, Chuuya replied,

“A fool in love, that’s what you are.”

Ah. He’d done it. Dazai’s theatrics came to an end, his expression smoothed into a dull, blank expression. Chuuya hated it when he did that. He couldn’t read the brunette back then, and he can’t do it now. His luck’s really run out now, he thinks.

“So, you’ve made up your mind huh? Chibi has acknowledged my feelings after all.”

“Yeah. I did. So what’s your plan, shitty Dazai?”

Dazai sighed, leaning further back into Chuuya’s couch. It appeared to Chuuya as if the younger was trying to disappear into his furniture, but with no success. They hadn’t met eyes once, during this whole exchange.

Chuuya busied himself with domestic tasks, taking off his jacket and shoes, throwing his keys on his kitchen island and grabbing a bottle of rum with two glasses. Dazai didn’t hate wine, but he’d rather disarm the ex-mafioso from any wine-related insults he might hurl at him in an attempt to distract the two of them from his confession. Besides, he was feeling nostalgic. The two of them used to drink rum together and black out. They would wake up in karaoke booths or at times, the Port Mafia weapons department where they would treat the weapons as toys.

Dazai accepted the rum with a quiet hum, pouring a glass for himself and leaving Chuuya’s glass half-empty. Seems like he’s trying to avoid getting Chuuya drunk then tonight.

“I have no plan. I’m a horrible person who has harmed you in ways I’m probably still unaware of. You hate me.”

“Hah? What? Are you like, drunk of the fucking alcohol fumes, asshole?”

Ah. They made eye-contact. Dazai’s ever so ghostly calm expression and Chuuya’s face contorted in a mix of emotions, all felt and expressed strongly. Maybe it’s the ability, maybe it’s Chuuya still being somewhat lightheaded from the nicotine kick and seeing things that aren’t there, but he could swear that Dazai’s gaze softened just the slightest bit upon meeting the redhead’s eyes.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk! Chibi should really stay away from all the grown-up products, he’s turning dumber and dumber everytime he speaks.”

“You’re the dumb one, shitty Dazai! You know your fucking...feelings! Are requited! So what the fuck are you mumbling about, saying dumb sappy stuff like I hate you! I don’t, goddammit!”

Dazai, albeit eyes a bit fond, still maintained that faraway expression. Like he wasn’t with Chuuya in the room right now. And it was pissing him off. He knew that it wasn’t some sort of tactic either, the bastard just wasn’t in tune with his humanity sometimes. So he had to wake him up. And give him what he wants.

“I’m in love with you too, for fuck’s sake! I’m in love with you, Dazai Osamu!”

“Say my name again.”

There it was. That spark. It sent shivers down Chuuya’s spine, everytime he witnessed the brunette return to the world and become one with it. His eyes, awake and slightly widened harbored a spark which razed all over his body. His whole posture, though it being subtle one, changed. As if he’d been asleep for a long time and he’d been shook awake. Moments like these were a testament to the fact that Dazai Osamu was human.

“Osamu. I said I don’t fucking hate you. In fact I think I love you or something like that. So put an end to this self-pity.”

“Have I ever told you how overjoyed I would be to die at your hands? It is you who brought me, someone who has long abandoned humanity, back to this world. To rob me of it, I would die a happy man. My only grievance being that you would also rob me from your presence.”

Fuck, that was awfully sappy. And yet, for the second time today, Chuuya started crying.

And he didn’t know that the younger was capable of it but, the waterworks turned on for Dazai too. Chuuya supposes he’s lucky to witness the great Dazai Osamu crying like human beings do. Even though, he was smiling through it.

“Chuuya’s so sel..fish. He- He’s even made me cry, ha.”

Chuuya’s always had this instinct in him to protect Dazai. After all, he was the brawns and Dazai, who could definitely hold his own when it came down to it, was built like a twig. All lanky and awkward, still trying to get used to his limbs. That’s what Chuuya’s excuse is for reaching out to Dazai, shedding his gloves because he needed to touch him, and grabbing Dazai’s hands like they were a lifeline. And they were. Because they always have been.

Oh. He really was lucky.

He really was lucky, to experince this many sides to the damn mackarel. The tips of his ears flushed bright red, and Chuuya worried for his neck with how fast he whipped his head towards their touching hands. Chuuya was waiting for some joke at the expense of himself, but it seems he rendered Dazai speechless. Huh.

“You told me you have no plan. So I guess I’ll ask you, what do you want? Be honest to yourself, Osamu.”

Dazai’s teary eyes met his again. He felt a squeeze. 

“I want you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Chuuya.”

This really wasn’t good for Chuuya’s heart, by the way. His luck was going to run out and Chuuya would be in the hospital a minute after midnight, he was sure of it.

“You’ve always had me, shitty Dazai. ...And that’s probably toxic as hell, but I think we’ll sort it out. I trust you.”

Dazai’s face broke into a grin. It was one of his warmer ones. The ones he’d show that weretiger or whenever he was particularly pleased with one of his jokes.

“Chuuya’s such a loyal dog, huh? Guess I’ll have to be a proper master too now...!”

Of course. Them being in love with each other didn’t equal no more bickering. Chuuya should’ve expected that Dazai being vulnerable isn’t going to be a 24/7 thing. Doesn’t mean he isn’t disappointed or not angered though.

“You... I’m gonna kill you, y’know!?”

He yanked his hand away from Dazai, felt just the slightest bit regret when a frown overtook Dazai’s features, before launching himself into tackling Dazai off the couch. Dazai ungraciously fell, letting out an ‘oof!’, and if it weren’t for the fact Chuuya’s fought the man before, he’d almost be concerned that he’d actually killed Dazai despite his little proclamation from earlier. Whatever whispers of doubt he had though soon disappeared, because Dazai erupted into laughter. Raw, vulnerable laughter.

“Ah, chibi’s such a brute! I’m a lovesick fool who’s fated to be with a brute!”

“Shut up! You piece of shit!”

Only when Dazai’s laughter died down, and Chuuya ran out of insults, did he realize the position the two managed to get themselves into. Chuuya was laying on top of Dazai, supporting some of his weight on his elbows which caged Dazai. Dazai had his arms thrown out besides him, highlighting his lanky and you’d have to hold him at gunpoint for Chuuya to admit it out loud, somewhat muscular frame. Dazai seemed to have realized their current situation as well, at the same time as Chuuya.

Chuuya’s heart seemed to mimic a techno song, with the way his heart rate went up at Dazai, who was still blushing, smiling— no, smirking, up at him.

“My, my, Chuuya. I didn’t know my hat rack was this forward.”

“Shut the fuck up. This is your fault. I told you before!”

Dazai being the octopus he is, slipped his arms around Chuuya’s waist in an annoyingly slimy manner and allowed him to collapse against Dazai, his head meeting Dazai’s collar bones. His hands now free, followed his...lover’s (?) — God, what were they!? — earlier ministrations and rested against Dazai’s waist. Chuuya allowed himself a moment of peace to get himself back together.

“Chibi’s so warm. Like those tiny electric heaters you put out on the patio when it gets cold.”

“Oi, that’s a cheap way of calling me short, fucker.”

Dazai sighed, and Chuuya apologized to the dead ability user and fate for ever questioning his luck. Because dare he say it, Dazai sounded content.

“This is nice.”

“It’s whatever.”

Dazai scoffed, and Chuuya raised his head to look up at him. Damn Dazai and his tall-ness. And how attractive he was. And how he’s the only person who knows Chuuya inside and out. And how the two of them always know what the other is thinking, because-!

Dazai kissed him.

Dazai Osamu, the man he’s hated ever since he’s met him and not nearly loved enough, kissed him.

His lips tasted like rum and slightly like artificial vanilla. No doubt some cheap chapstick. Chuuya can fix that. He can spoil Dazai with riches and everything else and more. It felt right to kiss him. Like it was always supposed to be like this. It was as easy as it was to bicker with the man now pressed against him.

And just as sudden as it happened, it ended.

“I’m sorry.”

An apology was whispered against Chuuya’s lips, foreheads against each other and it took everything in Chuuya not to burst because they were touching each other all over. But more importantly because even though Chuuya’d known this for a long time, it was a whole different thing to actually experience the words said out loud. He’d known Dazai’s trying to make amends, he’d known for a while. Dazai’s been trying as long as he can remember, in small ways. Caring for him post-corruption, even though he’d never be there when he was awake and had ane-san as the only witness of Dazai’s acts. Finding a bouquet of forget-me-nots, purple hyacinths, white camellias, lavender and white roses placed on his kitchen island next to whatever wine of the week he was trying to hunt down online. Even looking under his hats and finding packs of Golden Bats. Of course, they were all opened and had one stolen from each and every pack.

Which is why he answered,

“I know.”

“I’m still sorry. I suck at feelings, don’t I?”

“Yeah, you do. But I don’t, so I’ll make up for the both of us. Just don’t shut me out. Alright, Dazai?”

Dazai gently nodded, careful not to break them apart. His lips stayed connected to Chuuya’s. He wondered what he tasted like. Cigarettes and rum, probably. Yet, Dazai stayed as still as a doll in his attempt to have them stay like this for as long as they could.

Of course, Chuuya did not want to move according to Dazai’s plan. As always.

“So... What are we?”

He pushed himself up, making himself comfortable on Dazai’s lap. And Dazai, in a zombie-like manner followed after him, refusing to let his hands let go of Chuuya’s waist.

“Hm. Wanna get married?”

“Oi! What were you saying earlier about me being too forward!?”

“Eh~ But I’m being completely honest! There’s no use in dating if we’re gonna get married anyway! Chuuya’s my dog for life, why can’t we get it written on paper!? Besides, Chuuya, what about the financial benefits, hmm?”

Chuuya was staggered, no, flabbergasted by the other’s audacity. Financial benefits, he says.

“Y-You!!! There’s no financial benefits in it for me! You just want to legally leech of me! You damn slimy bastard!”

“Oh c’mon Chuuya~ We need to request a koseki! It’s gonna take forever if we don’t start now!”

“A koseki...!? You can just ask doc glasses to pull some strings, why are you making this so complicated!?”

In that moment, Chuuya realized he’d dug his own grave. He’d thought up till now, that he’d escaped from Dazai’s slimy clutches on his mind. That he wasn’t cooperating with Dazai’s plan. Except he was.

“So that’s a yes? Got it! Thank you, darling~!”

“Don’t call me darling, that’s gross! And who said I said yes!?”

“Eh but Chuuya-“

Dazai stared into Chuuya’s eyes, one of his hands moving to grip Chuuya’s face and forcing him to maintain eye-contact. He had that spark in his eye again. Except this was the spark of a madman. This look meant chaos and disaster, usually for Chuuya.

“If you marry any other person than me, I’ll wipe out Yokohama?”

The way he spoke the sentence sent a shiver down Chuuya’s spine, one he couldn’t suppress and Dazai grinned, his hand moving back to it’s previous position and clutching the redhead tightly to his chest.

“Y’know, in about three hours this ability wears off.”

“Don’t tell me Chuuya still doubts my feelings! Ah, silly little chibi! Is your hat truly eating away at your brain? How troublesome!”

“Shut your tr-!”

Dazai kissed him again, knocking the breath out of him. His face had a dull ache from where Dazai’s nose bridge collided with his cheekbone, but it didn’t matter. Because Dazai was kissing him. He tasted the exact same as before, and Chuuya decided he loved it. Nothing mattered as long as he could have Dazai embracing him and the two of them never parting. His wholesome thoughts however took a darker turn when his self-proclaimed husband playfully bit his bottom lip.

Fucking tease.

Chuuya’s lips involuntarily parted, allowing Dazai’s tongue to enter and violate every crevice of his mouth. What a slimy bastard his lover is. Dazai didn’t leave it at that either, he had to continue his journey, nibbling his way out of Chuuya’s mouth and leaving wet kisses on his jawline, all the way down to the side of his throat. Chuuya tried to hold back a groan at the feeling of Dazai sinking his teeth gently into his skin, sucking and biting at it, no doubt leaving a hickey so it’s clear Chuuya’s ‘marked as his’. He’s always had a possessive streak.

It’s not like Chuuya lacked a sadistic side either, his hand found itself resting at the back of Dazai’s neck, slithering up to tug at Dazai’s hair. Dazai whined as he was forcefully pulled back from Chuuya. He looked like a mess. His hair was slightly tousled, from the earlier tackle and now Chuuya pulling it. His lips were bruised and lewdly shimmering with saliva. And his face. Ah, his face. Chuuya turned bright red at the sight of him. His eyes were dark yet playful, his face covered in a rose sheen. He seemed drunk except the alcohol from earlier had been replaced by Chuuya in his system.

Chuuya decided to act as he was taught to by his ane-san, even though his entire body was screaming at him to let Dazai continue. He leaned back in. Dazai’s lips parted, sucking in a breath and his eyed widened just the slightest bit.

“I’ve already gotten the fact you’re into me, so fuck off, hah?”

Dazai’s nostrils flared and he let out a groan, weakly punching Chuuya in the chest who went along with it and fell backwards, head landing on a plush white carpet.

“Next time I see Kouyou-san, I’m going to-!”

Chuuya obviously cut him off with a punch to his calves.

“Don’t even think about telling nee-san about this. She’s gonna tell nii-san, and then Paul’ll kill you.”

“...You’re calling him nii-san now? Tch.”

“What do you mean ‘tch’!?”

— 22:21

The most feared duo in Yokohama had moved from Chuuya’s floor and decided to move to his room. Chuuya had just finished making ramen, beef-flavored for him and crab for Dazai, for the two of them, not wanting to cook anything grand at this hour and had forced Dazai to get changed in the meantime. They lucked out at the fact Chuuya tended to buy more oversized sleepwear.

Upon returning back to his room from the kitchen, with two bowls in hand, Chuuya encountered a situation which forced him to activate his ability in order to prevent a mess in his room.

Dazai had discarded his bandages. He was wearing a pair of beige colored sweatpants and a tan longsleeve shirt, but Chuuya could see hints of skin peeking where he was used to seeing bandages. It certainly was his lucky day. It was not just the lack of bandages that made him nearly drop their bowls, but the sight of Dazai so...domestic. Wearing his sleepwear, on his bed and browsing through his laptop for something to watch while they ate.

His partner took a break from his quest on Netflix, and scooted over on the bed to make room for Chuuya. Chuuya wordlessly handed the two bowls to Dazai and nodded over to the closet. Dazai winked at him and continued his quest.

Of course, that was a ploy.

Chuuya stripped himself, carefully folding his clothes despite being on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. Dazai’s eyes were no doubt on his frame. Though, he didn’t feel as if he was being looked at in a lustful way. No, it was much more fond. The domesticity of it all made Chuuya want to scream and tear Yokohama apart. Cuteness aggression, right?

He’d switched to black sweatpants and some old Buck-Tick t-shirt and Dazai earned some insults for laughing at him. Chuuya nonetheless climbed his way into bed, taking his bowl of ramen from Dazai.

“Not another word.”

“Ah! I think Chuuya’s darkness and edginess is rubbing off on me! Oh no, I’m turning into Atsushi Sakurai-!”

Chuuya elbowed him in the side.

“Don’t speak about my oshi like that!

Dazai cackled, letting out a few wheezes before silence settled in the room save for the k-drama which was playing in the background.

“Say, Chuuya... Would you say you had a lucky day today then?”

The brunette’s honest tone caught him off-guard. It wasn’t laced with mischief or any sinister underlying meaning. It was a pure, genuine question.

Chuuya took a moment to think back on the events of today. Meeting Natsume-san. Getting to bond with Paul. Dazai. His family and him being acknowledged as the future Port Mafia successor. Dazai, again.

“I guess. But I think I’m pretty lucky in general.”

Dazai smiled, turning to him with his eyes closed. He looked beautiful and Chuuya had the urge to contact doc glasses himself to get some marriage documents that second. Perhaps it’s because Chuuya was just a kid fighting his own battle regarding his humanity, but he’d never seen Dazai as the big scary demon he was made out to be. He was just a smart kid. Maybe even a bit of a chuunibyou with how convinced he was that he wasn’t human. But he’d learnt so much about being human from Dazai. It was weird to not refer to him as such.

“That’s good then. It means you won’t mind me stealing some of your luck then.”

Dazai looked at him fondly, as if he were starved from human interaction and Chuuya was the last person alive. Perhaps that was true.

“I guess I won’t.”

Dazai leaned in, his hand reaching out to gently caress the back of Chuuya’s neck and his own hand instinctively reached out to hold it. For the third time that day, Dazai stole Chuuya’s ability to speak as he encapsulated Chuuya’s lips in a kiss. He tasted like crab, and it didn’t matter. Dazai’d hurt him, and it didn’t matter. Dazai will hurt him most likely again, though most likely unintentionally, and it wouldn’t matter.

Because it was Dazai. And he loved him. With luck by his side or not.