Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chuuya had a working theory: only weirdos went to the grocery store after 8pm on the weekend. 

When he walked in, he immediately came across a group of teens who smelled distinctly of weed, their shared shopping cart full of bags upon bags of potato chips… and one lone cucumber. 

After he shimmied past them, he caught sight of an elderly lady sniffing hand sanitizer. There was no special scent, it was quite literally just rubbing alcohol, and yet the woman had flipped the cap open and was taking a deep inhale. Chuuya scrunched his nose at the sight and continued to the next aisle… the floor of which was sticky.

He didn’t want to know why.

The only reason he was there was because he had inconveniently run out of wine and the liquor store was significantly further away from his apartment. So no, he did not consider himself one of the weirdos, though someone who spotted the short ginger with an assymetrical haircut wearing a black crop top with sweatpants might have stated otherwise.

Chuuya finally escaped the gaze of a sweaty middle-aged man when he reached the liquor section, making a beeline for the wine. It was a grocery store, so the selection wasn’t incredibly large, but he still had a few different options — and if there is one thing to know about Chuuya Nakahara, it is that he’s picky about his wine. 

He had one particularly expensive cabernet in his grasp when he heard footsteps approaching, and he let out an audible sigh at the thought of having to deal with whatever freak also sought liquor this late on a Saturday evening. As he read the label of the bottle he held, he prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that the person wasn’t a drunk, pointedly ignoring them in an effort to dispel their existence.

Well, that lasted all of five seconds.  

“Chuuya?”

Hearing that voice overrode any effort Chuuya had been making to disregard the late-night weirdos and as he lifted his gaze he was met with the biggest weirdo of them all: Dazai Osamu. 

He still wore bandages on his gangly limbs, just as he did four years prior, and his shaggy brown hair hadn’t changed much either. He too was dressed casually, donning sweatpants and a t-shirt that hung loosely off his lanky frame. Wide chocolate eyes stared at Chuuya, and all he could do was stare back as the bottle slipped from his grasp and shattered on the tile floor. 

He cursed, snapping out of his shock at seeing the other man and taking a step back from the mess of red wine and glass. Slowly, he lifted his eyes again. 

“Hey,” he greeted with a small wave. 

-○-

Dazai offered to pay for the smashed bottle of wine. Chuuya refused. 

“It’s not your fault I dropped the goddamn thing,” he argued as they approached the register, abandoning the poor worker to clean up the mess. Dazai smirked at him and raised a brow.

“But isn’t it?”

Chuuya ignored him as he handed over his debit card to the clerk, placing a very much intact bottle of the same wine on the counter. He didn’t look at the cost as he was rung up, it had already been an expensive brand, he didn’t need to know what double that price was.

“Chuuya’s tiny little doggy brain didn’t know what to do when he saw someone so majestic and handsome —”

“I think I was actually instinctually reacting to the awful sight and smell of a rotting fish,” Chuuya shot right back, which for some reason made Dazai’s smile grow. “Plus, this ‘dog brain’ of mine graduated university so it’s obviously not that fucking small.” He then turned to the clerk and apologized for the mess and thanked her for her time. Dazai continued to follow him as he left the store, speaking as they walked.

“You must have gotten very lucky, then. I didn’t even know that they accepted canines into universities!” Chuuya stopped in front of the shop then, unsure of how to respond to any of this. 

The situation was weird. Not only had he been caught off guard by seeing his ex-boyfriend for the first time since high school, but he was also willingly engaging in conversation with him that was eerily familiar to what they had back then. 

What was he doing?

“Yeah, well it’s obvious you haven’t matured one bit since I last saw you since you still insist on calling me your fucking dog,” Chuuya found himself saying even as his brain struggled to process Dazai’s existence relative to his own.

“And I’m willing to bet you haven’t grown a single centimeter since then, either. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were an angry little twelve year old!” 

“Shut the hell up, asshole! At least I don’t look like a fucking mummy.”

“The clerk did have to ask for your ID back there, maybe she thought you were a troublemaking pre-teen trying to buy alcohol underage…”

“You say that like you didn’t have a fake license when we were sixteen,” Chuuya said with a light snort, sitting on a bench, leaving enough space to his left for another person to sit. Rolling his eyes when Dazai seated himself, he figured their squabble wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

And perhaps he didn’t want it to. 

A conversation like this reminded him of his teen years, when he skipped class to go fuck around with his friends, when he stayed up late not to write essays, but to meet up with his boyfriend and do something unfathomably stupid. 

“How the fuck did you get away with that? We were so obviously shitty kids,” he wondered aloud, allowing his posture to relax against the back of the bench. 

“They probably thought I was your older brother or father given how small Chuuya is,” Dazai reasoned with a shit-eating grin, and the petit man in question resisted the urge to aggressively kick him in the shins. 

“Would you shut the fuck up about my height already?” he shouted, much to Dazai’s delight, pulling a genuine chuckle out of him that left the brunette with slightly pink cheeks.

Chuuya had missed this.

He missed his debates with Dazai, whether they be on actually important matters, or stupid shit like his stature. It was always a challenge, and a welcome one at that, no matter how much it appeared the opposite was true.

But there was also an unaddressed elephant sitting on the bench between them, putting the sizable distance of four years between the two men, leaving them seated at opposite ends. Yet, rather than lingering on the reason for this distance, Chuuya felt the urge to bridge it instead.

“What’ve you been up to, anyway?” was the question that slipped past his lips. He mildly regretted it once it was spoken, but Chuuya had never been one to backtrack on his words, so he let the inquiry and all that came with it linger in the air.

“You’re not going to believe me,” Dazai said simply after a few moments of odd silence. Chuuya raised a brow.

“Try me. You’ve done some pretty unbelievable shit in your lifetime.” It was one of the reasons he had felt drawn to Dazai all those years ago; he was an odd character who, despite being so fundamentally different from Chuuya, somehow also felt like a kindred spirit.

“Teaching.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve gone into teaching. Got a job at a high school and everything.”

“You’re right,” Chuuya admitted flatly, “I don’t believe you.” A pause, as he processed this information. “You’re serious?” Dazai nodded with an amused smile tugging at his thin lips. “What the fuck?”

“I know, right?” he replied, leaning his arm on the bench’s armrest and resting his head on his hand. He still regarded Chuuya with the same calculating yet warm gaze that he did back then, like he was absorbing all of his reactions and tells.

“You fucking skipped class at least once a week, and— and you always talked about how bullshit the material was,” Chuuya spluttered, still trying to rationalize this development. “Why the hell would you pursue teaching of all things? Weren't you a fucking psych major?”

“Yeah, I was,” he said with a shrug, “but then I wasn’t. You know how university is.” Dazai looked like he was about to continue, but just then his phone vibrated and he paused to look at the message. He groaned.

“What?” Chuuya prodded with a raised brow. “Who did you piss off this time?” That comment earned him a glare.

“Well if you must know, it’s Kunikida Doppo,” he informed with a tone of lament.

“From high school?”

“Yep. He’s my roommate,” Dazai explained, standing up from the bench and stretching his arms. “He’s asking what I’m up to since I’ve been gone all evening, so it’s probably best if I go grace him with my presence. I'm sure he misses me!” 

And there was a moment, a split second, where it almost felt as if they were high schoolers again. A moment where it almost felt like Dazai was going to goofily offer his hand to help Chuuya stand and invite him to accompany him to torture Kunikida. A moment where Chuuya would’ve rolled his eyes and accepted that outstretched hand and said that he would go along, but that he would not participate in torturing the poor soul.

Chuuya stood before Dazai could offer his hand, not that he actually thought he would, anyway.

“I feel sorry for that man, having to put up with your bullshit on a daily basis,” he said instead of addressing the emotions that were colliding inside of him. 

With mock offense, “I’m a delight to live with, ask Kunikida yourself!” 

“I’m certain he’d assure me of the opposite,” Chuuya remarked with a slight snort, also rising from his seat. 

They both paused, hesitating, before Chuuya barreled on forward and officially ended their conversation.

“See ya around, Dazai. Don’t torment the poor guy too much.” He began to walk away, intent on going back to his apartment in order to finally drink the glass of wine he’d been craving for over an hour now.

“Bye, Chuuya!” Dazai sang from behind him, and he didn’t even need to turn around to see the goofy grin and wave the other was probably giving. “Oh, one more thing,” he said, making Chuuya stop in his tracks. “Do you still have the same phone number?”

“Yeah,” Chuuya confirmed before he could even think about it.

He walked away before he could say anything else stupid.

-○-

Truly, the decision to allow Dazai Osamu to text him had been a completely stupid one, and for multiple reasons.

One of these reasons was that upon confirming his phone number, Chuuya decided to scroll back and see the last text exchanged between them. It had been a happy birthday message sent by him three years prior, to which he received no response. The second latest one was the same message but four years prior.

When he had been actually speaking to Dazai in the flesh, it was so easy to forget how they left things at the end of their third year, but now that Chuuya was revisiting the time immediately following that, it suddenly became impossible to ignore. 

He sent the first birthday message only a few months after their break up. Chuuya had already begun university in France and sent the message on a whim when his phone alerted him of his ex-boyfriend’s birthday. He had checked his phone multiple times that day for a reply. He didn’t know why he held out hope for one, given the fact that Dazai had told him that they shouldn’t talk anymore.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Chuuya asked lowly.

“What I mean is that we’re going our separate ways. You’re studying abroad in France, I’m staying here in Yokohama… I just don’t think it makes sense for us to remain in contact, especially if we’re broken up.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still not on board with the whole breaking up thing!” Chuuya informed aggressively. “I mean, what? Just because we’re going to be in different places physically doesn’t mean—”

“This was always going to be temporary,” Dazai interrupted, voice measured and even. “It was just us being young and dumb, and now that we’re going our separate ways, doesn’t it make sense for us to split?”

Chuuya clamped his mouth shut in shock, eyes wide. Any words he might’ve been prepared to say died on his tongue as he processed what Dazai had just told him.

“Temporary?” He echoed dumbly. “What the fuck do you mean ‘temporary’? You thought—” he cut himself off. 

Arguments with Dazai had always been fun in some twisted way. It was enjoyable to engage in a back and forth, but if there’s one thing Chuuya learned about his boyfriend through those exchanges, is that he always assumed he was right and would defend his stance to the bitter end.

And this was the same, wasn’t it? Except this argument wasn’t fun at all.

“You know what? Fine,” Chuuya said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine, if you think so little of our relationship, that it’s just fucking ‘temporary,’” he used air quotes, venom dripping from his tone, “then let’s break up.”

“I don’t think little of our relationship,” Dazai defended, voice quiet yet steely. “But what was I supposed to think when you committed to a university in France without even talking to me about it?”

“No,” Chuuya said, almost in a growl. “No, you’re not allowed to use that choice against me. I refuse to have this argument with you.” He could feel the distance growing between them with each word. “I’m done. This is bullshit. I thought maybe—” he frowned. Dazai didn’t need to know the end of that sentence if he cared so little as to not even try to make things work, right? “Never mind. I’m going.”

And so he went. 

He left and went to university and tried not to think about Dazai until that damned calendar notification popped up and he decided to fuck it, sending a stupid ‘happy birthday’ text. He tried once again the following year and then gave up. 

And now—

[Dazai] just saw a chihuahua and thought of you <3

Fuck. This is his first text to Chuuya after over four years? He wondered if Dazai even had their old texts saved or if he didn’t remember that the last messages he’d gotten from Chuuya were unreplied birthday wishes.

[Chuuya] Fuck off 
[Chuuya] Don’t u have school now??
[Dazai] yes
[Chuuya] So pay attention to ur kids

That was another thing — he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Dazai had not only switched his major at some point in his four years at university, but had also landed a job as a fucking teacher. What major mental shift had taken place for him to suddenly decide he wanted to work with bratty high school teens?

[Dazai] oh they’re fine dw about them
[Chuuya] They’re under YOUR care ofc I’m worried abt them
[Dazai] you wound me! </3
[Chuuya] You’ll get over it

Chuuya couldn’t help but think, bitterly, that things had been the other way around in their break up. He had been the one left heartbroken and wounded, and Dazai had been the one dismissing the hurt.

Yet, Chuuya knew that wasn’t necessarily the case.

The thing about dating Dazai Osamu was that he hadn’t been that much more open with his partner than he was to his friends and family. Interacting with the man meant constantly having to decipher his quips and jokes, nothing was straightforward. The difference was this: Chuuya was the only one who managed to interpret Dazai’s eccentricities.

So, by this logic, when Dazai said that he thought that they should break up and lose contact because they were taking separate paths in life… Chuuya knew there was probably more to it. Even back then Chuuya recognized this. He was aware that Dazai was attempting to push him away for a reason he wasn’t able to express, but quite honestly, Chuuya was tired of all the smoke and mirrors. 

If Dazai was willing to let go of him that easily, did the true reason behind it really matter?

[Dazai] i don’t think I’ll ever recover
[Dazai] i hath been slain
[Chuuya] Ok Shakespeare 
[Dazai] that’s actually what my class is reading
[Dazai] the good ol mcb 
[Chuuya] Macbeth??
[Dazai] yes but a few of the students won’t let me say the name of the play because my classroom is near our auditorium where the theater is and it’s some sort of curse?
[Chuuya] Yeah the curse of the Scottish play
[Chuuya] It’s bad luck to say macbeth near a theater, it makes things go wrong or whatever
[Chuuya] I don’t believe it but theater kids are insane abt it
[Dazai] how very knowledgeable 
[Chuuya] I did sound crew in college
[Dazai] oh good, that means the audience didn’t have to hear your awful voice
[Chuuya] We both know u like my singing, asshole

Chuuya rolled his eyes at the exchange, shoving a spoonful of chicken curry salad into his mouth. He was on his lunch break at work, sitting at his desk and texting Dazai fucking Osamu. 

He recalled one specific instance during their third year of school when he discovered Dazai sitting on his bed after he had taken a shower. He had been singing quite loudly and was somehow more embarrassed about that than the fact that he was wearing only a towel. 

Dazai mumbled against Chuuya’s lips that his singing voice was lovely.

[Dazai] are you not at work too??
[Dazai] what’s your job anyway you never told me
[Chuuya] I’m on lunch break
[Chuuya] I’m a journalist for the Yokohama Times
[Dazai] ah so you stuck with the whole communications thing

Chuuya sighed and let his phone drop onto his desk, setting his empty container and chopsticks to the side. He could practically hear every text that Dazai sent him, just as he did back in high school. 

He felt conflicted.

Because Dazai had obviously changed to some extent. Hell, he was a fucking high school literature teacher. Eighteen year old Dazai would vomit if someone told him that was his career at twenty-three. At the same time, he was much the same. They could still maintain their little back and forth, and he still wrapped himself in layers of protection, choosing to engage in contact with Chuuya while avoiding the nature of their break up.

Chuuya thunked his head on his desk softly, letting out an agitated huff.

-○-

Chuuya had left his phone on silent, intent on completing the article assigned to him. His reward when he completed the arduous task? A slew of messages from one Dazai Osamu, who had taken to messaging him quite frequently since their chance meeting. 

[Dazai] hey 
[Dazai] hey chuuya
[Dazai] do you think if i switch my chicken sandwich for my student’s tuna salad they’ll notice?
[Dazai] because this student is serving detention in my classroom during lunch
[Dazai] and i’m REALLY craving tuna salad
[Dazai] and they went to the bathroom
[Dazai] ok i didn’t do it i remembered they were vegan or vegetarian or whatever it is
[Dazai] where are yoouuuuu?????
[Dazai] hey guess what i’m talking abt in class today?
[Dazai] suicide!!
[Dazai] i’m not encouraging it, don’t worry ;)
[Dazai] lady macbeth killed herself so i get to tell all my students about the lovely artistic meaning behind it <3
[Dazai] i really do love macbeth tho, such an interesting play
[Dazai] very intriguing to see this man drive himself insane, slowly becoming a murderer despite the guilt. his hunger for power overrides his conscience yknow?? tragic hero and all that. i find the self destruction especially fascinating.
[Dazai] did you ever have to read macbeth? it’s a great work of literature. i wish we’d been taught it in high school. we got midsummer night’s dream instead for shakespeare. not nearly as deep. 
[Dazai] you liked the poetry stuff right??
[Dazai] i got you a Yaichi Aizu book once i think
[Dazai] we read ONE poem in class and suddenly you were enamored
[Dazai] always a romantic, no wonder you ended up doing theater at university
[Dazai] uughhghhg
[Dazai] i have to work now
[Dazai] i can practically hear kunikida’s voice in my head rn telling me to get off my ass and back to work
[Dazai] one could only imagine what living with him during uni was like :<
[Dazai] ha my student who was eating lunch with me asked if i was texting a significant other. i said no, i was checking in on my dog <3

Chuuya scoffed at that last one, sent hours earlier while he’d been writing. He rolled his eyes at a man who wasn’t there, reading back o the texts once more. 

The thing that had shocked him most was the mention of the poet. It was a hyperfixation he had picked up during their literature class, one poem by the author had resonated with him, and suddenly he wanted to know everything. He recalled finding a book about the life and works of Yaichi Aizu in his locker a few days after, and it took all of five minutes for him to figure out who had given it to him, though his boyfriend never actually admitted it. 

So it was a little weird that Dazai had referenced giving him the book explicitly. Had it just been long enough that it wasn’t worth keeping the dumb secret anymore? That’s the answer that made the most sense to Chuuya. 

[Chuuya] You’d be sm easier to handle if u just shut tf up dear god

-○-

[Dazai] i just saw a tv ad for that special milk that helps you grow taller! you should buy some :D [Chuuya] That’s for kids dipshit
[Dazai] oh sorry i forgot you were a grown-up now
[Dazai] since you’re so little
[Dazai] have you grown since we met in middle school????
[Chuuya] shut up i have a deadline

It was past eleven at night and Chuuya had to complete the damn article by midnight, but for the life of him, he could not give the slightest fuck about some sports drug scandal. Upon being assigned the topic earlier, he’d been told that the normal sports writer was out sick, and the others were caught up with other assignments, so that he would have to cover. 

He audibly groaned at the assignment, something his superior had simply chuckled at. 

“You can handle it, Nakahara-san. I know you can.” 

And of course he could — but that didn’t mean he was going to enjoy it .

[Dazai] you’re still at work..???
[Chuuya] Yea unfortunately
[Dazai] and you've been there since this morning??
[Chuuya] Yup that’s how jobs work genius
[Dazai] ew
[Dazai] i could never
[Chuuya] Yea well good for you, Dazai-sensei
[Dazai] oooh is doggy grumpy he hasn’t gotten fed :(((
[Chuuya] Yes actually
[Chuuya] Been researching for this goddamn article all fucking day
[Chuuya] Now pls shut tf up and let me work i’ve got like 40 mins
[Dazai] eat
[Chuuya] No time
[Dazai] you said you’re having trouble focusing so eat
[Chuuya] That’s rich coming from u
[Dazai] the period before lunch break is always when my students are most antsy and spacey, apart from the one right before dismissal at the end of the day. it’s because they’re hungry that they can’t focus
[Dazai] but if you wanna ignore my advice that’s on you
[Dazai] i’m just stating facts

Chuuya leaned back in his chair and groaned loudly, the only person left in the office. Sure, he could have gone home to complete the assignment since everything is digital, anyway, but he figured he would focus better in a work environment. So, he had elected to stay at the office. 

He supposed he could see what was in the fridge. A two minute break couldn’t hurt, right? 

His inspection of the communal fridge led him to discover his own lunch left in there, the plastic bento one of the few items left in the fridge. 

He had completely forgotten he packed it, and that he didn’t eat it at noon. 

Perhaps Dazai’s suggestion wasn’t completely awful, then. 

-○-

[Dazai] the lady macbeth suicide lesson went over great the other day
[Dazai] one of my students especially liked it
[Dazai] rambled for 10 mins about how lady mcb’s guilt is heart wrenching but that’s what makes it so good
[Dazai] personally I don’t sympathize much with the character, she takes the easy way out, but I like hearing others perspectives 
[Chuuya] To answer ur question from the other day no I haven’t read Macbeth, so I only vaguely know what ur talking abt
[Dazai] ah well basically she encourages her husband’s murder spree and helps him out and then eventually has hallucinations of blood on her hands and kills herself because of the guilt
[Chuuya] And yet u think she “took the easy way out”?
[Dazai] yeah well she ran away from the consequences of her actions

Chuuya snorted softly at this… it sounded like someone he knew.

[Chuuya] To me it sounds like she had a strong will but the guilt of doing something so atrocious got to her. This play is all abt the characters greed for power right? Her will was strong, but her greed was stronger. Led her to her own self destruction.
[Dazai] i think you’d get along with my student, they think the same thing more or less
[Chuuya] Ha they’re smart then
[Chuuya] I’m a bit surprised you let students in ur class during ur lunch break? U don’t want that time to urself?
[Dazai] oh i have no choice they’re serving detention rn
[Chuuya] Didn’t u also have a detention kid the other day? Same one?
[Dazai] yup!!
[Chuuya] Damn what did they do.?
[Dazai] Disrupted the class by arguing with a classmate. 
[Chuuya] Now why does that sound familiar

It was true, especially when they first met, that the two often engaged in verbal sparring that resulted in punishment. Sometimes it was simply verbal reprimands, other times it was lunchtime or after school detention, but the worst was when the teacher would send a message home.

Chuuya rolled his eyes at the memory of his older brother scolding him for continuously getting involved with “that troublesome Dazai boy.” 

[Dazai] yes the difference is this kid is too nice for his own good
[Dazai] he argues back, hence the detention, but I think he enjoys talking to me..??? 
[Dazai] always asks for book recs too
[Dazai] sweet kid… but doesn’t learn his lesson when it comes to the arguing 
[Dazai] hmm maybe i’ll make the two serve detention at the same time next time…
[Chuuya] Somehow I have a feeling that won’t work
[Dazai] ok just because you said that now I’m determined to make it work
[Chuuya] Yeah ok good luck with that

He smirked at the conversation as he ate some mediocre cafeteria sushi, actually able to eat lunch that day. It was a bit odd to hear Dazai talk about this particular student so… fondly? He wasn’t quite sure if that was the word to it, but there was some sort of underlying care hidden in his words, in the way he described this particular person.

He’d almost forgotten Dazai was capable of such tenderness.

Of course, this was nothing outright, he wasn’t being overly mushy, but he was indulging this student with book recommendations and discussions about his lessons. Hell, the kid was supposed to be in detention, Dazai could tell him to be quiet the whole time if he wanted to… but he didn’t.

[Chuuya] I think the kid likes talking to u because he looks up to u btw

Dazai didn’t reply.

-○-

[Dazai] remember when you had that phase where you were obsessed with that polaroid camera i was gifted?
[Dazai] you used it more than me lol
[Dazai] well anyway i found this shoebox full of pics
[Dazai] most of them are like artsy pics you thought were so cool at the time
[Dazai] but i also found this
[Dazai] IMG_2377
[Dazai] i think that was your 18th??? you’re plastered you look so stupid hahahah
[Dazai] hmm maybe i’ll use this as blackmail… 
[Dazai] well anyway just thought i’d share!!

Chuuya hadn’t seen the messages until he’d gotten off his motorcycle and entered his apartment after a long day of work. The photo Dazai had sent immediately made him frown, though.

He was considerably younger, his features a bit more rounded, his hair shorter and straighter, and stature a little more thin. It was an attempted selfie with the Polaroid camera, and though Dazai had claimed that Chuuya was the one taking most of the photos, it was obvious that the former was holding the device. Perhaps it was because he had longer arms out of the two, but he couldn’t recall, because the other man was correct in describing him as “plastered.” 

The young Chuuya’s face was flushed a furious red, visible even in the grainy quality of the polaroid. He seemed to be putting the majority of his body weight onto Dazai, whose bicep he was grabbing tightly, and to whom his gaze was directed. It appeared that he was in the middle of saying something, likely defending a point in one of their typical drunk arguments, his mouth hanging open a bit stupidly. He looked goofy like that, his face all scrunched up as he attempted to gain his boyfriend’s attention. The latter was flashing a grin at the camera, though, purposefully ignoring the petite ginger hanging off of him, likely just to get a rise out of him. 

Chuuya stared at the picture for a moment, at the hickey visible on his younger self’s neck, at a younger Dazai who he’d once loved so fiercely.

His frown deepened and he shut his phone off, placing it face down next to him on the couch. 

Even if he didn’t remember it very well, that had been the last birthday of his they celebrated together before they broke up.

Chuuya didn’t reply.

-○-

[Dazai] chuuya 
[Dazai] chuuyuuuyayy
[Dazai] chuuyyayayaaaaaaaa
[Dazai] ik you’re ignoring me I can see u read it
[Dazai] the ones from yesterday too!!
[Dazai] truly you’re too cruel
[Dazai] I’ll just keel over and die now from being ignored
[Dazai] all ur fault
[Dazai] I will be mourned by the masses
[Dazai] and the blame will fall on you

Chuuya left him on read yet again, rolling his eyes at no one in particular. 

Irony at its finest.

[Chuuya] Attention whore
[Dazai] he speaks!
[Chuuya] For as much as u claim to dislike me u really seem to like messaging me 
[Dazai] you’re an annoying slug ofc I dislike you
[Dazai] I’m doing charity work by texting you
[Chuuya] Your logic doesn’t even make sense
[Dazai] ah you can’t teach an old dog new tricks I suppose
[Chuuya] stfu abt the dog shit, asshole
[Chuuya] that died 4 years ago

He hardly thought about the message before sending it, but once he did he physically winced. 

Chuuya supposed some of his former bitterness towards Dazai was resurfacing with these conversations — small reminders of what once was sprinkled throughout them. For instance, Dazai had mentioned a high school teacher had reached out to him and even asked about Chuuya in the message, and he also made an offhand reference to having had a fling in college. 

So, while it was kind of nice to talk to Dazai again, there was always something more lingering in the background that sorta made Chuuya want to claw at his skin. Underlying every conversation was this sour taste left by how their relationship had ended. 

With every text, the elephant sat unattended in their chat room, waiting to be acknowledged.

[Dazai] oh but dogs remain loyal to their owners for life!

Not when abandoned, they don’t, he almost typed, but decided against it with an agitated huff. 

[Dazai] but I suppose a dog as dumb as yourself probably forgot all about his owner?

Now what the hell was that supposed to mean?

[Chuuya] obviously

Chuuya could play this game, he could try to see what reaction he could pull out of Dazai. He was well aware that It might not work, but goddamnit, his curiosity and frustration were combining into an awful beast called recklessness.

[Dazai] liar
[Dazai] I’m unforgettable <3
[Chuuya] sure

Whatever show Chuuya had been trying to watch on his TV was now disregarded as he committed himself to navigating through this conversation. Because while Dazai had absolutely called his bluff, he had reason to believe that the second message was a deflection of some sort, but for what? Had he truly believed that Chuuya forgot him? Obviously not, because he called out his lie and claimed to be unforgettable. 

So what the hell was he getting at?

[Chuuya] a real piece of work
[Dazai] like artwork?
[Dazai] you flatter me!!
[Chuuya] Whatever helps u sleep at night 
[Chuuya] Oh wait nvm u don’t sleep do u
[Dazai] meh
[Dazai] sometimes I do now, a bit more consistently than before
[Dazai] turns out using alcohol as a sedative wasn’t super healthy? 
[Chuuya] Since when have you cared abt your health?
[Dazai] idk college and adulting happened ig
[Chuuya] “Adulting” as if u didn’t make a ur mom joke yesterday 
[Dazai] I blame the teenagers I constantly spend time with 
[Dazai] they’re rubbing off on me
[Chuuya] ur probably rubbing off on them and for the worse
[Dazai] what’re you talking abt
[Dazai] I’m a great influence
[Chuuya] Whatever helps you sometimes sorta consistently sleep at night
[Chuuya] Also u realize saying sometimes AND consistently is hypocritical right
[Dazai] heyy I’m the lit teacher I’m supposed to be correcting the grammar 
[Chuuya] Ur being hypocritical again
[Dazai] my fatal flaw!
[Chuuya] Of many 
[Dazai] :(
[Dazai] chibi is so meaaaaan :((

Chibi, huh?

The nickname was nothing new, but it was important to note that it was a pet name Dazai had only picked up after they’d begun dating. So, while it wasn’t particularly abnormal for the name to be used, in this context, it made Chuuya stop for a moment and furrow his brows. Had Dazai just used the old name out of habit, or was something else happening here?

Chuuya wasn’t quite sure what he wanted the answer to be. 

[Dazai] how will I forgive you for your cruelty?
[Chuuya] Idrc
[Dazai] The first stage of grief… denial…
[Chuuya] Ur ridiculous u know that right
[Dazai] I will consider forgiving you on one condition!
[Chuuya] I already said I didn’t care
[Dazai] buy me whiskey 
[Chuuya] Wtf no
[Chuuya] I’m literally in bed rn
[Dazai] then on Saturday 
[Chuuya] What????
[Dazai] bring me my whiskey on Saturday and I’ll consider forgiving your transgressions 
[Chuuya] I literally JUST said I don’t give a shit

Effectively, Chuuya knew he was being invited over. He didn’t want that, he didn’t want to drag up all the emotions this whole damned situation had already begun to tug at. He still didn’t have a handle on what the hell Dazai wanted from this and wanted to figure that out before he agreed to anything like—

[Dazai] whiskey for wine
[Chuuya] ??
[Dazai] I’ll give you wine if you give me whiskey  
[Dazai] on Saturday 
[Dazai] evening 

Fuck.

[Chuuya] Ok

-○-

Chuuya ended up in the same stupid grocery store to buy stupid whiskey for his stupid ex-boyfriend, who he had agreed to meet up with on a saturday night… stupidly.

This time he did not run into any insufferable mummified men, for it was not the unique hour that the weirdos came to lurk around the supermarket. Instead, his encounters were far more typical, ranging from the young girl who stared at his hair with wide eyes to the man who seemed far too invested in which salsa he should purchase. The only thing that made Chuuya pause was the clerk checking him out — it was the same as the girl from the previous weekend. She raised a brow at him when he put the whiskey on the counter, probably assuming he was an alcoholic or something. 

Chuuya knocked on the door of the apartment when he arrived, double-checking Dazai’s message to him with the address. He cynically expected to have been pranked and for a complete stranger to open the door, confused to see a short ginger with a weird haircut standing on their doorstep with a bottle of whiskey in hand. Instead, he was greeted by Kunikida Doppo. 

The man was just as confused as a stranger might be, though. 

“Nakahara?” he questioned upon opening the door, eyes narrowed at the sight of one of his high school acquaintances. 

“Hey, Kunikida,” he said, raising his hand in a small wave, “you live with Dazai, right? Or did that fucker lie to me?” It was a joke, but he wouldn’t put it past his ex to set up a convoluted stunt like that. 

“No, you’re right, it seems he told the truth for once,” the other man informed slowly, “but… he didn’t tell me you were coming. He knows you’re here, right?” 

Ah, there it was. Of course Dazai neglected to inform his roommate that he was having company over — and not just any company, his ex-boyfriend from high school. 

“Fucking bastard,” Chuuya muttered to himself more than to Kunikida, who seemed to be putting the pieces together as his expression leveled into an unamused glare. Though the two hadn’t interacted all that much back in high school, they had bonded on more than one occasion through their frustrations with Dazai’s antics. This, too, was one of those moments, with Kunikida’s scowl not directed at Chuuya, but at their shared source of frustration.

With a huff that failed to dispel any of Kunikida’s rigid tension, he invited Chuuya inside and left him to stand by their kitchen table while he stomped his way over to Dazai’s room, shouting about their guest that he had no idea about. Through the door Chuuya could hear Dazai defending himself, feigning innocence, though it seemed that his roommate had grown used to this tactic and simply yelled over his phony justifications. 

When Kunikida left the room he slammed the door behind him, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“How often do you guys get noise complaints?” Chuuya quipped, to which the other man snorted softly. 

“At least once a week,” he replied, moving towards a second door and yanking it open with perhaps just a little too much vigor. It was then that Dazai appeared from his own room with the most innocent of smiles, Kunikida’s gaze shifted towards him and he uttered in what was almost a low growl, “I am not leaving, Dazai.”

Tilting his head slightly and keeping his fake-ass smile, Dazai replied, “I would never ask you to—”

“Last weekend at approximately midnight you barged in here wi—”

“Unimportant!” he interjected quite loudly, and Chuuya raised a brow. He had respect for Kunikida Doppo. “We’re simply catching up,” Dazai continued, “don’t you believe me, Kunikida?”

“He doesn’t,” Chuuya supplied, “and I don’t blame him. He’s smart.” The man in question smirked at the remark, the small smile settling on his thin lips. It appeared the respect was mutual.

Dazai clutched at his chest like he had been physically struck, gasping. “I’m offended! My own roommate and my ex-boyfriend! How cruel, the both of you!”

“But he’s not lying this time,” Chuuya said when Kunikida glared at his roommate, unimpressed by his dramatic display, “we really did just run into each other the other day when—”

“Chibi smashed a bottle of wine.”

“Hey!”

“Enough,” Kunikida interrupted, aggravated, “I am going into my own room.” He began to back into said room, pulling the door shut behind him, but not before shooting Dazai with another withering glare. “These walls are thin,” he reminded, before firmly shutting the door. 

“Thanks for making me look like a prostitute,” Chuuya remarked sarcastically, giving Dazai his own dirty look before turning to the table he’d been leaning against and grabbing the whiskey. He held it up, waving it slightly, which caused Dazai’s smile to form into a slightly more genuine one as he moved to the kitchen area to retrieve his end of the deal. 

With it he produced two glasses. 

“Who said I was staying?” Chuuya inquired, a lilt to his tone as he set the whiskey on the counter in front of the other man. “The deal was an exchange, I never promised to share drinks with you.” 

Chuuya feigned naïvety easily, swallowing this vulnerability as he did. He had clearly understood the implications of Dazai’s deal, and the man across from him recognized the flippancy for what it was: false. Dazai pressed his lips together until they flattened, glaring and raising a brow, unimpressed with Chuuya’s display.  

Chuuya couldn’t help but notice that his ex-boyfriend still slipped between masks so easily, all these years later. Yet, even with the knowledge that he was doing this, and even when the two had been their closest during their prior relationship, Dazai had never fully let his guard down around him. Even when he decided to remove a mask, it seemed that there was simply another one underneath. Sure, the plastic wasn’t as pristine and the old thing had been weathered to the point where cracks showed a bit of the truth, but Chuuya had never really seen his partner without his layers and layers of protection. It was frustrating, trying to get Dazai to unravel it, and he often had to do it by hand.

“Chuuya is so crude. I offer him a drink and he refuses? Perhaps I shouldn’t give him this wine after all!” he exclaimed petulantly, donning the mask of a man truly annoyed by the apparent rudeness of his houseguest. 

" Fine, I’ll stay for a goddamn drink,” he relented, as if that hadn’t been the plan from the very beginning. Immediately Dazai switched back to being cheerful, that forced smile appearing on his lips again as he opened the wine with a corkscrew. 

Chuuya got a chance to glance at the label, it was a brand he was familiar with — a somewhat expensive one. He elected not to comment on this. 

With their drinks poured, the pair settled on opposite ends of a worn, leather sofa. There was a wooly blanket folded and draped so neatly over the couch that Chuuya suspected that Kunikida must be responsible for its orderly nature. In fact, the entire apartment was relatively neat, likely for the same reason, save for a few touches of Dazai’s characteristic sloppiness here and there. 

“What the fuck is with the teaching job, Dazai?” Chuuya asked bluntly after a sip of wine. Dazai let out an amused chuckle at his forwardness around the rim of his own glass. 

“Getting straight to the point, are we?” he teased, and after ignoring Chuuya’s eye roll, he continued. “It’s not entirely abnormal for university students to switch their course of study, you know.”

“Of course I know that,” Chuuya grunted, “but you’re not—” how the hell was he supposed to phrase this? What was he even trying to say?

The Dazai he knew back in high school was decisive, calculative and cunning, not to mention profoundly intelligent, so somehow the idea that he would willingly change his major and thus his life path seemed… odd. 

“You always had some plan or scheme,” Chuuya said after mulling over these thoughts, “so I suppose I assumed that university was the same, that you had an established course of action.” 

Because if Dazai had chosen to change his plan so drastically, that meant the original had ultimately failed — and Dazai Osamu’s strategies never failed. 

“Things change,” Dazai said nonchalantly with a small shrug, as if he could physically shake off the weight of Chuuya's implications. It made the latter frown and narrow his eyes, the former seemingly unaffected as he carried on casually. “People come and go, you discover new things, and sometimes you just change your mind.” 

Deflection was one of Dazai’s greatest skills, and right now he was displaying that. It reminded Chuuya of one of the reasons why their serious arguments always needled him, and why that final one had been the last straw. 

“Was it me? Is that what changed?” he pressed, clawing at the facade Dazai insisted on wearing.

“Chuuya is so egocentric—” Chuuya snorted humorlessly at this, “not everything is about him!” 

“Cut the bullshit, Dazai. We might not’ve spoken for four years, but I can still tell when you’re being evasive,” he groused. The other man did not seem taken aback by this challenge, his neutral expression not even flickering. It was only when he took a calm sip of his whiskey and placed the glass on the coffee table firmly that Chuuya sensed any shift in Dazai’s intentions. Placing the glass down and leaving his hands unoccupied had some air of finality to it. It was a silent statement. 

“If you must know,” he began with a sweet bitterness, “having your boyfriend betray your trust by committing to a university overseas without consulting you first might just change some things. Perhaps I became more amenable to switching majors when that rug was pulled out from under me, because if that could change, why not everything else?” he questioned rhetorically. Chuuya didn’t know what mask he was wearing anymore, this one was unfamiliar to him. 

“Well, sorry I accepted a once in a lifetime opportunity to a school I didn’t even anticipate getting accepted to,” he shot back. “Plus, I didn’t exactly expect that to be a dealbreaker for you!” Dazai’s stony expression only angered him further. “Maybe if we— I don’t know— fucking talked about it, we could have worked something out.” Dazai didn’t acknowledge this comment though, barreling on with his explanation. 

“I went to university and took a required literature class and became close with my professor. He said that I had a knack for the subject and that I’d do well to share my intelligence with others, and eventually even convinced me to switch my major.” He took a long sip from his glass, his trained, blank expression entirely unreadable. Then, he let out a sigh that eased his posture slightly from its rigidity. “You implied earlier that I’m resistant to change, but Oda-san showed me that change might just be worth it.” The ire present in his tone seemed to have eased at the mention of this professor, which only made Chuuya’s frown deepen. Dazai had let an authority figure impact him that profoundly? Dazai continued on, gaze focused on the half-empty glass abandoned on the table.

“I figured that if my professor was capable of shifting my perspective like that, then perhaps I’d find some sort of meaning doing the same.” He shrugged again, and this time it was as if he was shaking off the weight of his own implications. 

“Meaning…” Chuuya echoed to himself, memories of a depressed boy surfacing. When he glanced up at the man before him, he saw a different person — similar to the one he had been before, but not quite the same.

“No, it wasn’t entirely about Chuuya,” Dazai concluded with some acerbity working its way back into his tone. “You moved on without me, and so I moved on without you.”

“I never wanted to move on,” he explained softly, but not without sharpness. “I wanted to make it work, I was willing to make it work, and yet you go on about unwanted change? If— if you were so goddamn heartbroken, why did you push me away?” 

It was the question that had danced around in his head for years, reappearing every once in a while when his ex crossed his mind. Because Chuuya was well aware that there was something beyond Dazai’s words when they broke things off, and perhaps part of him regretted not investigating it further, but the other part of him insisted that if Dazai had truly cared, he wouldn’t have let Chuuya walk away that day. 

Yet, he did. Why?

“I explained it earlier,” Dazai replied in a grumble, “what the hell was I supposed to think when you chose to go to France without telling me?”

“That we’d do long distance or something?” he suggested, throwing his hands in the air. “I don’t know! But you weren’t willing to even fucking talk about it, so what the fuck was I supposed to think?” Dazai scoffed, the smile he wore taking on a sour quality.

“You keep talking about ‘talking’ as if you actually talked to me before applying or even accepting the offer, Chuuya.” His voice was low and calm, almost hauntingly so, and Chuuya felt a sinking feeling in his stomach because it was true.

Perhaps it didn’t matter the reason why he waited to tell Dazai about Paris, the fact that he had waited at all when it came to such a major decision had been the issue. Like Dazai had mentioned earlier, he had betrayed his trust. 

“I viewed the decision to be outside of our relationship,” he clarified, “but it— it was wrong of me to assume you’d be okay with it, that our relationship wouldn’t be affected.” 

“I just— it didn’t make sense to me,” Dazai explained softly, “why you wouldn’t tell me, I mean. If this whole France thing was so important to you… why wouldn’t you tell your partner about that? I would’ve— it might have been easier to handle if I didn’t have to force it out of you.” A sigh. “It doesn’t feel nice to be overlooked.”

“I— I’m sorry,” Chuuya said truthfully, shaking his head a little. “I didn’t mean for it to be like that, I just didn’t know how to tell you, there was never a right time.”

“There was never going to be a right time,” he replied, and without bitterness, just a tinge of resignation. 

A brief, tense pause. “You mentioned feeling overlooked just now, and earlier you said something about us moving on from each other — is that what you thought was happening?” Silence. Dazai hummed noncommittally, a non-answer. “I told you my reasoning for not telling you, and I understand that it was frustrating, but that doesn’t explain why you would think otherwise.” Another pause, Chuuya chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It doesn’t explain why you thought we were temporary.”

That final statement drew a breath from Dazai, and with his sigh it seemed he was slowly emerging from behind his mask, letting a little bit of his face show from behind the hard plastic. 

“And don’t say it was about me not telling you about France — I know that was a factor, and I’m sorry for not talking to you, I should have, but I also know there was something else,” Chuuya added for good measure, and Dazai opened his mouth like he was going to respond, but then then clamped it shut with a furrowed brow. It took him a few moments to work through whatever was going on in that confusing brain of his, and Chuuya sat and waited patiently. 

“I knew you’d try,” Dazai said finally, and Chuuya resisted the urge to raise a brow at the vagueness. “I knew you’d want to stay together when you went away, I knew you certainly didn’t think we were temporary.” A beat. Chuuya said nothing even though he wanted to say everything. “But I thought— I thought that perhaps I’d be limiting you.”

What?

Oh.

It was easy to forget that Dazai Osamu didn’t have much self-esteem, and he covered this up with overconfidence and phony charm. It was so damn easy to forget that he was acting most of the time, that his interactions and choices were often for show, that despite all his intelligence, he didn’t think very highly of himself. 

Chuuya remembered a time right around when they began dating, when Dazai had confessed to him that he often found that anything in his life worth wanting was taken from him once he obtained it, and that he was scared for their relationship for this reason. It was a late night, he had been half-asleep when he said it and likely hadn’t meant to, so Chuuya had simply kissed the crown of his head and whispered comfort into Dazai’s hair. They never spoke about it again.

“Because you’d be so willing to try, but that didn’t mean success. I predicted that you would feel the urge to move on to bigger and better things, but that you’d also feel an obligation to—” Dazai cut himself off, frowning. His hands were clutching at the fabric of his pants, the words unspoken hanging between them. 

“Osamu,” he whispered, and suddenly it felt like they were teenagers again: navigating communication errors, acting stupid and impulsive, using given names. But they also weren’t quite the same as four years prior. They were adults who had matured enough to finally have this conversation, to be vulnerable where they wouldn’t have years ago. 

Abruptly, Dazai stood. He wiped whatever pained expression he had been wearing off his face and began to walk towards the door to the apartment.

“What’re you—?”

“Follow me,” he instructed simply, leaving the door open behind him. Chuuya downed the rest of his wine and followed the other man out.

-○-

Dazai and Chuuya were notorious for making mischief as teenagers, one of their favorite activities was to go onto the roofs of buildings. They often did this after sneaking out of their own homes late at night, meeting up in a local park, sometimes with booze, and finding somewhere to sit and look at the stars. 

They’d snuck onto the roof of their school, of the local burger joint, of their homes, of random apartments, and even the fire station once. Of course, with Yokohama being a city and all, light pollution hampered their stargazing experience, but it was always more about the act of rebellion and spending time together, anyway. 

Apparently, the rooftop mischief was something Dazai carried into his adult life, considering he was currently goading Chuuya to sneak onto the roof of his own apartment building, ignoring the sign that told them it was for maintenance personnel only. 

“I don’t know how to feel about the fact that you still know how to pick locks,” Chuuya said dryly as Dazai quietly shut the door behind them. 

“It’s a wonderful skill,” Dazai argued, “very useful in university.” Chuuya shot him an unimpressed glare.

“I don’t even wanna know.”

It wasn’t a particularly beautiful evening, with most of the stars hidden by overcast clouds and the new moon affording no light. Yet, their rooftop excursions had never really been about the beauty of the night sky, but instead what lay underneath it.

“Remember that time we got drunk on the school roof and you nearly fell off?” Chuuya asked, snorting lightly at the memory despite how panicked he had felt when it happened. He recalled having spent the following ten minutes slurring a lecture about how stupid Dazai was and how he wouldn’t know what to if he had fallen and killed himself. Dazai had then made a tasteless suicide joke that caused Chuuya to kick him in the shins and tearfully repeat half of his earlier rant. Dazai had sat and listened with wide eyes, clutching his likely bruised shins. 

“Yes, vaguely,” he confirmed with a small nod and a smirk. “I had a calculus test the following day. I passed despite my horrendous hangover.”

“Because you’re smart.” 

“I know.” 

They both wandered near the edge of the building, where they each took a seat, just like they were idiotic adolescents tempting fate by breaking the rules and inviting danger. 

Back then it made them feel something. Now? It was simply nostalgic.

“Why’d you bring me up here?” Chuuya inquired, resisting the urge to bite the inside of his cheek. Instead he hugged his own arms to his chest, scratching lightly at his own skin. 

“Kunikida,” he said plainly. “He’s nosy.” 

Chuuya nodded. It was probably a lie to cover up the sentimentality of the activity, but he accepted it nonetheless. Silence hung between them and he didn’t know what to say. Should he ask about Dazai’s job again? Address the fact that he’d implied that he previously believed he was an obligation to Chuuya? Apologize again for not letting him know about France? Leave? Stay? 

Kiss him?

Chuuya remembered one of his first dates with Dazai. They were in his own room, huddled together on his bed, sharing wired earbuds as they watched some cheesy horror movie and made hushed comments about the awful acting or poor special effects. They were trying to stay quiet on the account that Chuuya lived with his older brother who found Dazai distastefully obnoxious, and that Dazai had snuck out of his own home that evening to be there. He remembered sitting next to his new boyfriend, observing him as he watched the stupid film, and being enamored with his appearance, the low hum of his voice, the briery humor poised on his tongue. 

He wanted to steal those words, to take his breath away — and being young and impulsive, he did just that. 

Chuuya had relished the muffled sound of surprise, in the way Dazai relaxed against him when he processed what was happening. So what if some idiot jock was being brutally murdered on screen as they made out? The contact, those lips, made his heart thrum in his chest and he knew his boyfriend felt the same by the pulse hammering under the hand he slid over his neck.

Just for a brief moment on the rooftop of the apartment building, Chuuya felt the urge to do just the same. Dazai was looking out over the city’s skyline, the lights making his sharp features visible in the gloomy night, and Chuuya wanted to steal the unspoken words from his mouth, taste their heavy silence, communicate everything they couldn’t say through the press of lips. 

But he was no longer young and impulsive; reality rooted him to where he stood and reminded him that they were both far too messy to fall back into their previous relationship. 

“Chibi,” Dazai stated, and Chuuya realized the other man was staring back, his face mere inches from his own, but not for intimacy or desire. No, Dazai was inspecting him, likely curious why he had zoned out staring at him. Immediately, Chuuya took a step back and narrowed his eyes. 

He always felt weird being studied by Dazai.

“What?” he asked harshly with a sigh, forcing himself back to the present.

“What were you thinking about just now?”

“None of your business, asshole. You’ve given me a lot to fucking think about tonight.”

“I’m sure I have,” he teased, but it was lacking the usual mirth, the weight of their previous conversation lingering. 

“Not like that, pervert.” Chuuya, too, replied in a more dull manner than he typically would have to an innuendo. 

Dazai hummed, bringing a thoughtful hand to his chin as he put on the performance of thinking, as if he hadn’t already made up his mind. “I think Chuuya was thinking about kissing me.” 

Chuuya’s jaw clenched, and though he showed no other physical signs that gave away the truth, he knew just how perceptive Dazai was… he knew. 

He began to approach Chuuya.

“Don’t,” he said firmly, and Dazai stopped, seemingly weighing his options as he stared at him silently for a moment.

“Why not?” was the question he landed on, tilting his head slightly and waiting patiently for a reply.

“Did you forget that we just talked about the reasons we broke up?” Chuuya asked incredulously, hands on his hips like he was the teacher here.

“Exactly,” Dazai said simply, “we talked about them.”

Chuuya didn’t have a retort to that, so he stayed silent.

“Listen, I—” Dazai took a deep breath and let it out before continuing, “we don’t have to jump right into anything serious, but I also think cutting contact again isn’t an option, either.” He took a few steps forward again, “at least, not for me.” Though Chuuya felt the natural instinct to halt him once more, he fought against it, remaining still and keeping their gazes locked.

“I may not know you now as I did then, but I’d like to,” Dazai continued when he stopped directly in front of Chuuya. “We don’t even have to be ‘together’ I just don’t—” his words were cut off by the lips occupying on his own, pulled down to the shorter man’s height by the collar of his t-shirt. 

He made a surprised noise against Chuuya’s mouth, which the latter smirked at slightly, pressing forward with more insistence. After a second or two he retracted, relishing in Dazai’s wide eyes and lips parted in shock.

“One stipulation,” the ginger demanded after letting the other recover for a moment, “if we’re… trying this again, we’ve gotta fucking talk, alright? Communication.” Dazai nodded a bit dumbly, but not without genuine agreement. “I’ll start right now: you were never an obligation,” Chuuya offered.

Dazai didn’t react immediately, his expression unchanging save for the slight widening of his eyes. But then, he swallowed, opened his mouth, and nothing came out. He shut it again, his eyes drifting somewhere else, brows furrowing.

“You don’t need to respond, I just wanted to let you know,” Chuuya said quietly after a few moments, and Dazai’s posture relaxed slightly, relieved.

“I— uh, thanks.”

And the two men shared a quiet moment on the rooftop they had illegally entered. A moment for their past, their teen-selves who had stared at the same sky. A moment for their present, adjusting to who they were now. And a moment for the future, anticipating what was to come and who they would be. Sure, there were to be more tough conversations, and no doubt more arguments. Maybe they could navigate it all together.

But in that moment, they just enjoyed being in one another's presence, the phantom feeling of lips pressing against their own.