Archive of Our Own

11:41 AM, Saturday June 17th, 7 hours and 41 minutes later :

A sliver of sunlight had escaped over the edge of the curtain, running in a gold rivulet across the bed and hitting Chuuya square in the eye, of all places. This in itself wouldn’t have been a big deal under normal circumstances, except for the fact that it currently felt like the sides of his skull were all desperately trying to escape each other, sending sharp jolts of pain through his head and forcing a muffled groan from his throat. He’d had hangovers in the past, this was really nothing new, but judging from the headache, the soreness in his spine, and the disgusting filmy taste in his mouth, he had apparently gone especially hard the night before. Rolling onto his stomach he plunged his face into the safety of his pillow, remaining motionless until he realized that this was not in fact his pillow. No, the cover was all wrong. It was….bigger than what he was used to. It didn’t smell right. Lifting his head, he blinked through the fog in his eyes, adjusting to the limited light to take in his surroundings.

Quickly, Chuuya realized three important facts: 1. He was in what appeared to be an upscale hotel room, 2. He was in fact quite naked, 3. Osamu Dazai was snoring softly next to him.

Head falling forward, he allowed himself a long, drawn out moan of despair; Why, why had he been stupid enough to drink with his ex partner, knowing full well that the chances of this exact thing happening were higher than they should be?

Whatever had happened, Chuuya resolved quickly not to let it bother him too much - it wasn’t like this sort of thing hadn’t happened before. A couple times. This year. Dammit, he really needed to take Kouyou’s advice and just sign up for an online dating service or something.

Heaving a sigh, Chuuya turned over, pushing back the covers on his side of their kingsized bed, moving to locate his discarded clothes when that infuriating little patch of light that had awoken him earlier caught something. He’d only reached up to brush aside his sleep-mussed hair; eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he brought his hand down to inspect for whatever he had seen, the light once again catching on silver.

Sitting flush with the base of his left ring finger was a solid band of platinum. For the first several seconds Chuuya only blinked down at it, attempting to jog his brain of when he’d last bought jewelry. Another couple seconds and his eyelids had peeled back from their half-closed positions, jaw slowly opening to hang uselessly as he made the realization of what he was wearing and where it was being worn.

Rapid fire his eyes cut from the ring towards Dazai’s still sleeping face. To the ring and back again. Dazai. Ring. Dazai. Ring. The internal screaming had started up inside his already pounding head, beyond terrified of what he’d possibly done the night before. He yanked the covers away from his comatose companion, searching for his own left ring finger, dropping his arm like he’d been burned and releasing the loudest, most dramatic cross between a gasp and a choke that he’d ever produced in his life. An identical ring sat around Dazai’s own finger. On the same hand.

“OW! Ow, what the fuck!?” Dazai exclaimed, waking from a dead sleep to the volley of hits Chuuya rained down on him. Struggling to detangle himself from the covers and escape, he leaned back towards the edge of the bed, tumbling off the edge with wide eyes before hitting the floor with a muffled thump. Breathing hard, Chuuya stared at the space that had once been occupied by his ex partner. A mop of brown hair came back into view, Dazai perching his chin on his edge of the bed, taking in the vision before him; namely, a naked Chuuya who only had the aid of his crossed legs for modesty.

“Well hello there,” Dazai grinned, eyebrows wiggling.

“What happened last night,” Chuuya growled back, sounding more like a demand than a question. Dazai’s eyes flickered back up to Chuuya’s face, taking a break on the ogling.

“Well...I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but…” Dazai leaned forward as if revealing the secrets of the universe to Chuuya, dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper, “Usually when people wake up naked together, it means they had s-”

“I KNOW what we did, asshole, i’m talking about before that!”

“Uhh? I don’t remember, why?”

Chuuya’s lips squeezed together, body tensing at having to reveal what he’d already discovered. Slowly he released his crossed arms, bringing a still shaking hand up to flash the silver band at the other man. Dazai’s head cocked slightly in interest, eyebrows furrowing.

“We....went to a jewelry shop?” he asked.

“Look what hand it’s on.”

“I don’t...Oh,” Dazai’s face went strangely blank, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Chuuya agreed, hand still held aloft, “What the fuck.”

“Well...that could mean anything!” Dazai shrugged with a smile, “You’re so…flashy, you probably just found a ring and decided to keep it, you didn’t pay attention to what hand you put it on…”

“Uh-huh,” Chuuya responded in blistering monotone, “Look at your hand.”

“What do you-” Dazai brought up his own left hand, mouth freezing wide around whatever he’d been about to say, eyes widening by the second until a strangled choking noise began to pour from his throat, attempting to stand, slipping, and then collapsing backwards again and to disappear completely. Chuuya pinched at the space between his brows, sighing softly to himself.

“I’ll ask again, do you remember what we did last night?”

For the longest time Chuuya was met with only silence.

“Well, I remember how the night started…” Dazai finally revealed, still lying sprawled on the floor.

10:14 PM, Friday June 16th, 5 hours and 45 minutes earlier :

Chuuya leaned back in his chair, a look of intense irritation painting his face. The evening had begun under the guise of a friendly “mixer” of sorts, with Chuuya and Akutagawa representing Port Mafia, and The Agency’s second in command, Doppo Kunikida coming on their behalf. The set up had progressed smoothly; Chuuya had experience with negotiations, rubbing elbows with friends and enemies alike to strike up deals for Mori. With things quiet between the two organizations now, all hostility took a backseat to the larger threat of Fyodor Dostoevsky in light of his recent escape.

Things had gone south 24 hours before the meeting; Kunikida reported that a second person would be accompanying him, and when pressed, revealed that it was Atsushi Nakajima. Akutagawa had reacted with the expected vitriol. Mori requested a change of participants. Fukuzawa had suggested they change participants. Akutagawa threatened to turn the scene into an informative lesson on killing and skinning big game animals. Atsushi politely declined the invite. Chuuya, more than a little annoyed with everyone’s bitching and moaning, had touted his subordinate off to the decided meeting place at a clipped pace, until he was interrupted by a text from his boss:

Replacement for tonight: Osamu Dazai

Chuuya gripped the phone so hard he nearly cracked the screen.

Almost immediately, another message pinged to alert him. Apparently Mori and Kouyou were in the same room.

BEHAVE. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

His face flushed, he knew exactly what she meant. Before he could even respond another ping sounded.

I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT FIGHTING

“...fuck, stop-”

CHUUYA NAKAHARA

“Ok ok ok I get it-”

I SWEAR ON ALL OF YOKOHAMA

“Oh my GOD woman…”

PANTS.
STAY.
ON.

Chuuya ran a hand down his face, turning his screen away from Akutagawa and hoping against hope that he hadn’t caught any of that.

While he understood how hypocritical it would be for him to complain about having to see Dazai, the urge was still strong. He had hoped to go another few years without having to see the detestable man again, not only because this was sure to be a real shit-show with the two of them attempting to be civil, but also because...his last couple meetings with him hadn’t ended exactly as planned. Planned would have been the two of them trading their usual barbs and going on their separate ways. It definitely was not ending up at some skeevy love hotel at 3 AM, down half a bottle of Jack with his underwear hanging from a lampshade. Kouyou had personally vowed to stop this from continuing, even if it meant castrating Dazai herself.

Minutes later and Chuuya arrived at the bar that had been selected, nearly tripping over a stray cat, all on his own. Halfway there he had decided that it was better for Akutagawa to know Dazai would be present, instead of everyone having to suffer through what would no doubt be an cringe-worthy surprise mentor-prodigy reunion. Akutagawa had reacted by having a coughing fit so strong they’d had to pause for him to lean against a nearby building, until Chuuya was certain he’d have to be hospitalized and called a cab with instructions to lay low at base and not answer his phone, he’d cover for him. Chuuya could take care of things on his own, and it was probably a good thing that there would be one less witness present to any possible interactions between himself and Dazai.

Which led him here to this moment, staring across the table as Dazai’s current partner Kunikida attempted to decipher the bar menu with the help of a very harassed looking waitress, while Dazai made unhelpful suggestions over his shoulder.

“Just let me order for you,” Dazai suggested brightly; Chuuya could detect the hint of mischief in his voice.

“No, no I can order for myself….” Kunikida assured him with a frown, eyes still glued to the menu, “....What’s a Tom Collins?”

“Good lord,” Chuuya whispered, leaning back in his chair.

“He will have the Aunt Roberta Cocktail…”

“NO! Dazai stop!”

“How about a water?” The waitress deadpanned, obviously fed up with this table’s antics.

“I will have…a Sidecar,” Kunikida finally decided, handing over the menu.

“Sure thing, grandpa,” the waitress husked, loping off to the bar front.

The comment went over Kunikida’s head, while Dazai turned, chin perched in his hand to shoot Chuuya a wide-eyed look that clearly said ”Can you believe this guy?” that Chuuya doesn’t return, instead giving him a steely look that telegraphs that his time is being wasted.

“Nakahara-san, thank you for joining us here,” Kunikida turned, pushing his glasses up.

“Not like I had much of a choice,” his smile is tight, he wants to at least be professional and gracious to the blond man but the whole situation is set up for failure, if the way Dazai openly stares at him from across the table making bedroom eyes says anything.

He listens to whatever Kunikida’s prepared to say to him after drinks arrive, something that sounds rehearsed or like he’s reading from a cue card, but it only holds Chuuya’s attention for a little bit. Dazai’s long fingers trace the rim of his glass, wicking away moisture slowly before bringing them up to his lips, tongue darting out to snatch up the droplets. Chuuya glances to him, back to Kunikida, and then to Dazai again, eyes widening minutely. Dazai rewards him with a secretive smile, tongue pressed against the pads of his fingers, lips peeling back to deliver a soft bite to his thumb before taking another drink. Chuuya uses it as an opportunity to steel himself against the other man’s taunting, attempting to pick up the train of Kunikida’s full length speech about cooperation or whatever the hell he’s prattling on about. Dazai’s got a cherry between his teeth now and Chuuya physically feels the color drain out of his face.

“But like I said, time will only tell in that regard, until we can find something much stronger to hold our organizations together,” Kunikida finishes, sighing. Chuuya’s head snaps in his direction, a mortified smile plastered to his face.

“Absolutely,” he chokes. Dazai tosses something across the table at him.

A tied cherry stem sits next to Chuuya’s glass. When he looks up, Dazai’s eyebrows wiggle up and down. Kunikida is completely oblivious.

Chuuya can feel himself sweat.

11: 05 PM, Friday June 16th, 3 hours and 55 minutes earlier :

It takes about two and a half cocktails for Doppo Kunikida to become a sloppy drunk, Chuuya discovers about an hour later.

“An’ that...that fuckin (Dazai’s eyes widen comically at hearing his current partner curse) FISH GUY...or octopus, squid...I dunno…”

“We know,” Dazai sighs, back to being bored.

“With his weird tentacles...tryin to squeeze us to death…”

“We know,” Chuuya echos Dazai, suppressing a shudder at the memory of fighting Lovecraft.

“Too bad he's evil, was kinda hot…” Kunikida slurs, frowning at the empty bottom of his glass, “Balls, I'm out of liquor,” he announces before swaying to his feet, heading in the direction of the bar. Both of his companions watch his retreating back until he's safely out of earshot.

“Please tell me you want to run for it as much as I do right now,” Dazai whispers frantically, bent low over the table like he's seconds away from throwing himself off the nearest bridge with more relish that usual.

“How do you work with that guy?” Chuuya asked, “Listening to him talk is like watching paint dry, until you get a couple ounces of rum and sour mix in him, then he's a teenaged girl.”

Dazai's lips twitched in amusement, “That's probably just the jealousy talking, since he's your replacement and all.”

“Oh fuck off,” Chuuya rolled his eyes, raising his own glass to his lips. He felt pleasantly buzzed, which was probably why Dazai and himself were getting along at the moment. That and their shared torment.

Dazai was busy clacking away on his phone, but rose seconds later, tossing some tip bills on the table, “Alright let's blow this joint.”

“And leave your partner behind?” Chuuya’s brows furrowed, “I mean, god knows it's your signature move and all…”

“Hah hah, you're hilarious. I messaged Yosano, she'll be along to collect Kunikida before he can even find his way back to the table.”

Chuuya lifted a brow, arms crossed and still seated, “And why exactly am I leaving with you?” he asked.

Dazai smirked back at the redhead, hands in his pockets, “Because I know you too well, it's a Friday night and you're only half drunk and already out besides, why waste the evening?” he glanced in the bars direction, “and if you don't leave now you'll be treated to a lecture on the finer points of office organization, starting with the ideal ways of filing paperwork.”

“Dear god” Chuuya gasped, throwing in bills of his own and rising in a rush to follow Dazai. They quickly snaked their way through the crowded bar, disappearing out the door and into the night.

11:57 AM, Saturday June 17th, 7 hours and 57 minutes later :

They both sat on the edge of the bed, trapped in an awkward silence as both tried desperately to remember any other details of the night. They'd both remembered leaving Kunikida at the bar, Dazai had retrieved his phone to find a text from Yosano confirming that she'd taken the man home. From there they'd ended up at another bar further downtown, but couldn't seem to recall anything past ordering a round of drinks.

Chuuya had located a couple hotel robes while they'd tried to retrace their steps, and now he rose to pace the length of the spacious room nervously.

“Fuck, fuck!” he swore, fingers in his hair, “What the hell are we gonna do!?”

“Relax,” Dazai admonished him, “it's probably not as bad as we think, we don't even know for sure that we…” Dazai was unable to say it outloud, face twisting slightly at the thought.

“We got married?” Chuuya groused. Dazai visibly tensed.

“Right, we probably were just joking about it while drinking, bought the rings as a gag, came back here to play honeymoon, end of story.”

Chuuya raised an eyebrow, Dazai's words sticking in his brain; true the rings hadn't come from nowhere, surely there had to be a receipt or something from where they'd been purchased…

“I don't know why you're getting so worked up about this,” Dazai announced from the bed, as Chuuya began rooting through the pile of his and the other man’s clothing at near manic speed, “you're gonna feel stupid when you realize i’m-”

Chuuya stood ramrod straight, turning slowly in Dazai's direction with wide, terrified eyes, a piece of paper clutched in one hand that looked an awful lot like a marriage license.

Dazai's previous expression froze to his face, he stared back for several seconds, “.........the hell is that?”

Chuuya stalked across the room with the energy of a contained firestorm, coming to a stop right at Dazai's feet, flicking the paper out in front of his face with hard eyes.

“Ok, relax for a second,” Dazai requested, taking the paper, “We don't even know if this is official or-” he paused when his eyes finally scanned the document, “Oh...Oh this….looks very official…” his voice dropped to a whisper, grimacing.

“I...am going to murder you,” Chuuya promised, voice shaking with anger.

“Hang on!” Dazai looked back up to his former partner, “it takes two people to get hitched shorty, how is this all my fault!?”

“EVERYTHING IS ALWAYS YOUR FAULT!!!” Chuuya bellowed. Immediately he buried his face in his hands, a muffled screaming sound issuing from his throat. His hands flew to his head next, fingers twisting in his hair maniacally.

“I'm gonna die,” Chuuya announced with a hint of a hysterical laugh, “I'm gonna fucking die. If Mori doesn't kill me first, Kouyou’s gonna slaughter us both.”

“Woah woah woah, hang on,” Dazai threw his hands up, “Mori isn't doing anything, not in the middle of establishing a truce.”

“And Kouyou?”

“...If we get a head start and run now we might have a chance.”

Chuuya picked up the nearest pillow and slammed it over Dazai's head.

12:37 PM, Saturday June 17th, 8 hours and 27 minutes later :

After taking a second to calm Chuuya down (which really meant letting him scream and hit him with the pillow a couple more times) Dazai had suggested they dress and get to the bottom of all this. The license bore no trace of the name or location that it had originated from, meaning that if they wanted to put this to rest, they would have to do some good old fashioned detective work.

Chuuya couldn't even look at Dazai presently, and barked out that he would find someone on the hospitality staff while Dazai tried the front desk to see if anyone had heard or seen something when they'd checked in. Still seething, the redhead asked around until he located the head of the department, a plump and friendly looking middle aged woman with greying hair. It had taken a couple minutes to get her alone; arms full of replacement towels, she'd handed them over to an employee and ordered them to respond to floor eleven’s complaint that a cat was running loose.

“Oh certainly I remember! I've been on shift since a little before you two came in, had to make sure the honeymoon suite was all set up and ready for you,” she beamed, as if this had to be the happiest day of Chuuya's life instead of the worst.

“Yeah...ok,” Chuuya mumbled awkwardly, beyond pained that they actually were in the honeymoon suite, “Did...did we say anything about where we'd come from? Before checking in?”

The woman’s eyes glanced skyward, trying to think back to last night, “Hmm I don't think so...I only spoke to you in passing to congratulate you and your husband,” she smiled, while Chuuya visibly tensed at the word “husband.”

“Oh.”

“Truth be told I'm not sure you two said much of anything, with the way you were occupied with each other…”

“I...Wow,” Chuuya blinked, mouth going dry with the knowledge that Dazai and himself apparently made-out the entire trip up to the room, “Sorry, I'll just...thank you for your time…”

“No no, think nothing of it dear,” the woman waved him off fondly, “We see so many couples come through, it's a real treat to see one that's truly in love like you two.”

Chuuya froze on the spot, face unreadable, “Pardon?”

“Well it's not hard to see,” she chuckled sweetly, “I don't know that I've ever seen two people as happy as you were last night,” the woman informed him, “Your husband insisted on carrying you the whole length of the hallway to your room, said he wanted to carry you over the threshold properly...of course, that was before he hit your head on the doorframe…” she mused, thumbing at her chin.

Chuuya resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands; well that at least explained why his headache hadn't gone away.

He thanked the woman again, trudging back off to their room to meet with Dazai, hoping that he'd had a bit more luck with the front desk. While he hadn't gleaned any new information to aid them, the woman's words clouded his brain. Happy? Who on earth could mistake the two of them as being happy with each other? Obviously they had been catastrophically drunk for it to seem that way. People didn't just up and marry their ex accidentally and then act happy about it.

Chuuya shook it off, reaching the room and vowing that he wouldn't let a little detail like that derail their pursuit of the truth.

1:22 PM, Saturday June 17th, 8 hours and 22 minutes after :

Dazai leaned on the back wall of the elevator, the very picture of ease despite the tiny knot of worry that had begun to form and grow in the base of his brain. He hadn't wanted to startle Chuuya further, but he'd been downplaying a lot of his reaction in the hotel room; there was no question now that wherever they'd come to the hotel from, they had issued a legally binding marriage license, one that could probably only be undone though a long and arduous divorce process. As amusing as watching Chuuya agonize over months of legal proceedings sounded, Dazai himself was having trouble coming to terms with what they'd done.

He'd never in his life considered the possibility of marriage, instead more occupied with the concept of exiting the world and its social trappings altogether. Sure there had been a time where he suspected that his feelings for Chuuya had strayed past infatuation and mere lust, but that time was over and done with. Carnal pursuits were for fun or to distract, and although Chuuya had once again become a target for those activities, no emotions of real substance had remained. Or so he told himself.

Words like marriage and husband and forever flitted through his mind, completely turning his stomach.

The elevator doors parted to reveal the spacious and ornate hotel lobby; apparently they really had decided to do it up right in their drunken state judging from how nice it was. The room was mercifully clear of other guests, a tall mustachioed man in a suit the only person behind the counter.

When Dazai grew closer he seemed to recognize him, face lighting up instantly.

“Ah, Mr. Dazai-Nakahara! Good morning!” he called. Dazai stopped stock-still in his tracks, a mortified smile on his lips.

“.....Dazai-Nakahara?” he asked softly.

The man blinked owlishly at him, before his face split into another smile, “Oh right, you're probably not used to your married name yet,” he chuckled.

“Ha. Ha ha...right…” Dazai laughed weakly, fighting the urge to scream. He'd hyphenated his family name!?

“What can I do for you?” the man asked, forcing Dazai to set his dilemma aside for the time being.

“Ah yes, this is...going to sound a little silly, but we were a bit tipsy last night, did we perhaps say anything about the place where…” Dazai resisted the urge to choke on his own tongue, “the place where we got married?”

The man paused to consider the question, “Hmm I don't believe so...you two didn't say much…”

“I understand-”

“...except for how much you love each other, that is.”

The mortified smile was back. Dazai could physically feel his soul attempting to leave his body. Was the room spinning? The room was definitely spinning.

“I remember what it was like to be young and in love,” the man reminisced fondly, much to Dazai’s annoyance “Wanting to spend every waking hour in their presence, dreaming of your future together, unable to let the other one go…”

“Yeah, that's nice-”

“The amazing sex,” he sighed while Dazai stared at him in horror, “Enjoy that while it lasts.”

“....Ooook, well, I'm gonna go back to my room now and try to forget this entire conversation ever took place…” Dazai replied with the biggest, fakest smile he could muster, backing away slowly.

“Oh one moment,” the man stopped him, turning around and shuffling through a cabinet below the counter, “Someone dropped something off for you this morning.

Dazai's brow cocked, stepping forward. Who knew that they were here? Paranoia set in suddenly; they both had enough enemies that a serious misstep could land them in trouble. Even worse: what if their coworkers found out?

Smiling bright, the man pulled an elaborate flower arrangement from the cabinet to sit on the counter; a mass of beautiful red camellias poured out of a crystalline vase so large it almost hit Dazai at eye level. It took several seconds for the usually silver-tongued prodigy to restart his brain just looking at it.

Once he'd thanked the man, he snatched up the flowers, barreling back to the elevator and it's relative safety. As soon as the doors closed he ripped the little envelope from the arrangement, shifting the obnoxiously large bouquet around in his arms to hold it like a football, petals and water spilling everywhere. He pulled the card out, eyes scanning the small, neat handwriting scrawled on it.

To the newlyweds,
May your days be forever full the excitement and adventure you bring to each other's lives. Remember that your love and the happiness it creates can bridge any divide.
~S

Dazai stared at the single letter for the longest time, only looking away once the elevator doors dinged open on his floor. He had no idea who S was, and it gnawed away on his nerves like nothing before.

A minute later and he practically kicked his hotel room door open, strolling in and tossing the flowers towards Chuuya, who caught them with wide eyes, thinking for a hysterical moment that Dazai had brought them for him.

“You know anyone who goes by “S”?” Dazai asked, shoving the card in the redhead’s face with a little more force than necessary. Chuuya jerked back, glancing between the man who seemed uncharacteristically grim at the moment and the greeting. He took the card from his fingers, eyebrow raised as he read and reread the message.

“No, and I don’t know anyone delusional enough to write something like this to us either,” Chuuya snarked, “Why do people keep thinking we’re in-” his lips slammed shut, eyes wide.

“What?” Dazai asked, head cocking.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it...did the guy at the front desk tell you anything?”

“No. Apparently we weren’t very informative last night,” Dazai neglected to reveal that they’d apparently declared their undying love for each other in a fully staffed hotel lobby the night before, “The flowers came through a small local shop that delivers, no electronic records of payments or customers.”

“Dead end,” Chuuya gritted through his teeth, “This is ridiculous, there has to be a way to find out where we were.”

Dazai chose that exact moment to collapse backwards onto the bed, hands over his face, a low, drawn out groan issuing from between his fingers. Chuuya stared at him in confusion. Was Dazai really that effected by all this? The usually so calm and collected Osamu Dazai?

“Uhh...Are you ok…?” Chuuya asked, sounding very unsure of himself. Under different circumstances he wouldn’t have given a single shit if Dazai were under some sort of emotional stress, but he was so thrown off that he couldn’t help it.

“No,” Dazai muttered flatly, “I am, in fact, not ok.”

“Do...you wanna talk about it or…?”

Dazai’s hands parted enough for him to fix Chuuya with a quizzical look; apparently Chuuya really was being uncharacteristically soft.

“Ok fine, lay there and bitch,” Chuuya muttered, moving to get up from the bed himself, suddenly feeling stupid.

“You’d feel the same way if you were Osamu Dazai-Nakahara….oh wait….” Dazai mumbled, hands still over his face.

”WHAT!?” Chuuya shrieked, spinning back towards the other man with the flowers still clutched in his hands.

Chuuya’s bombastic reaction seemed to cheer Dazai somewhat, if the smug smile he wore when he finally lifted his hands said anything, “Yeah, chew on that one for a second.”

“NO!”

“Yes.”

“WE DID NOT.”

“We did,” Dazai confirmed, amused by the frantic look in Chuuya’s eyes.

“AND YOUR NAME GETS TO COME FIRST!?!?!” Chuuya screamed, using the bouquet to jab at Dazai angrily, sending a shower of red petals loose. For the first time in an hour, Dazai’s mouth split into a wide grin.

“What’s the problem, you get to come first all the time.”

Chuuya launched himself at the other man, teeth clenched, a snarl in his throat. Dazai rolled sideways, attempting to evade his attacker, but Chuuya had settled on using the flowers as a weapon. He aimed for Dazai’s head but was blocked, the impact with his arm sending an explosion of more petals to rain down over them. Still not dissuaded, Chuuya kept hitting, even as Dazai rose to his knees on the bed and attempted to grab for the bouquet and Chuuya’s other arm to bodily wrestle him into submission. Chuuya’s leg shot out, barely missing Dazai’s crotch, both arms occupied. The air was a riot of camellia petals, even as Dazai tossed what was left of the bouquet away, using his leverage on Chuuya to force him down on the bed, head hanging off the edge towards the door, hair and eyes wild.

“You piece of shit, let me go,” Chuuya growled, squirming against Dazai.

“Not unless you promise to stop trying to hit me,” his lips twitched, fighting down a smile, “That counts as domestic abuse now.”

“FUCK YOU!” Chuuya yelled, unable to kick his legs out; he settled on wrapping them around Dazai’s waist, attempting to roll them both over and assume control. Dazai wasn’t budging though.

“Listen, I know we’re both on edge right now,” Dazai tried, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically mature quality, “This whole thing is a mess, and as much as i’d love to taunt you further, we really should get to the bottom of this and put it to rest.”

Chuuya looked up at Dazai like he’d grown a second head for a split second, unbelieving that the man would try to calm him down instead of pushing his buttons further. Was he that rattled by the whole ordeal? Chuuya scoffed, rolling his head to look away from the man perched on top of him, still upset but calming down.

“Alright fine,” he finally muttered, “Lets just go and try to find the place, whatever.”

Dazai opened his mouth to say something, when he was interrupted by the sound of a door opening, followed by a shrill shriek.

Chuuya flopped his head backwards off the bed, looking towards the door upside down, his confused expression mirroring Dazai’s own. The hospitality manager he’d talked to earlier covered her eyes, backing out of the room with her cleaning cart.

“I’m so sorry! I thought you two had stepped out for a bit, please don’t let me interrupt…”

Chuuya only just realized that he was lying in bed, Dazai on top of him, his legs wrapped around the other man’s waist, every available surface positively covered in red flower petals.

“IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!” Chuuya screamed after her, struggling to wiggle out from under Dazai. The door slammed shut with more force than needed, silencing the redhead. Chuuya stared helplessly towards it, mortification setting in. He would have to leave the biggest tip he could muster for the wait staff…

His thoughts were interrupted by a muffled choking sound; he glared up at Dazai, who had gone completely red-faced, hand over mouth attempting to hold back his laughter.

“Oh shut the fuck up and get off of me,” Chuuya grumbled.

- 3:34 PM, Saturday June 17th, 11 hours and 34 minutes later:

After calming down and admitting that they should probably eat something (and hey, room service) the pair decided that their only option was to track down every seedy 24 hour marriage joint in Yokohama. Thankfully enough, it wasn’t a completely common practice, which meant there was a list of about seven spread over the course of the city. They began with the two closest locations, striking out immediately. Neither place recognized their names or faces. Chuuya, not wanting the trip to be a complete failure, asked the man at the counter what their policy was on divorces.

“Same as any marriage,” had been his grizzled reply, “You can go downtown and get married by the government in a jiffy, same as here. Ya godda wait just as long to get a divorce.”

“And how long does something like that take?” Chuuya asked, dreading the answer.

“Six weeks if you’re lucky,” the man chuckled, “A year if you’re not.”

Chuuya moped behind Dazai, following him on their way to the third location. What did it matter if they found the place in the long run? Would the fact that they’d been inebriated change anything? If the appropriate paperwork had been signed and filed, it would still take forever for a divorce to be finalized. He stared forward as they walked, watching the sunlight catch the mahogany of Dazai’s hair and turn it auburn in places. Husband, the word materialized in his head like a phantom, foreign-sounding and not at all something he’d ever thought would describe Dazai, to himself or anyone else, even if there had been a time in his life where he’d loved him.

People in the mafia didn’t operate in the same way that normal people did when it came to social expectations. It had taken him into his teens to realize that he would probably never wed, the chances of an enemy preying on a loved one too great to risk. Dazai had been...something else to him then. There had never been a spoken agreement, just a closeness that had grown out of years of familiarity with each other, a magnetization that was too powerful to resist, and a comfort in knowing that the other would always be safe. He’d thought that maybe it would go on forever, that Dazai would one day hold Mori’s seat and Chuuya could protect him at the top. It was the closest he’d ever come to dreaming of something like that, and Dazai himself had smashed it all to pieces the day he walked out of Port Mafia for good.

It was while turning this all over in his head that Chuuya missed the first call, a shout from someone on the street. Dazai paused first, causing Chuuya to run right into his back. He growled, backing up and expecting some smart remark from the other man, but Dazai’s eyes were turned in the direction of the shout. When Chuuya himself turned, he spotted a cab parked alongside the road nearby, a man about their age waving to the pair from the rolled down window. Curious, Dazai walked towards him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Heh heh, yeah you probably don’t remember me,” the man laughed from behind a pair of loud sunglasses, all bleach-blond hair and perfect white teeth, “You guys were pretty trashed last night.”

Both Dazai and Chuuya’s jaws nearly hit the floor, “You saw us last night?” Dazai asked incredulously.

“Yeah! Name’s Taki, I introduced myself but it’s probably hard to recall from all the,” Taki raised both hands towards his body, rubbing them around in midair while making a kissy face, “going on in the backseat.”

“Charming,” Chuuya gritted out, feeling positively humiliated.

“I like him,” Dazai grinned, turning towards his new spouse.

“Of course you do,” Chuuya rolled his eyes.

“Man you guys are my favorite couple ever, and not just because of that. I wish my old lady and I could be half as happy as you two,” Taki insisted with a jab of his finger.

Both men froze on the sidewalk. Neither had revealed that according to the people they'd spoken to that they'd apparently been quite pleased with themselves and each other for tying the knot last night.

“Whaddaya doin out here though? You guys shacked up at that fancy hotel uptown, I thought you’d planned on staying for another day,” Taki asked. Apparently they’d revealed more to this man than any of their previous acquaintances; Dazai’s eyes narrowed.

“We’re actually trying to find the place we were married at, you see we...left something behind-”

“And were too wasted to remember where you came from,” Taki finished for him, a wide smile on his face, “I’ve got you, i’ve got you...Well I didn’t actually pick you up from the joint, but I think I can get you in the right neighborhood.”

Chuuya sighed with relief, “Thank god.”

“Wonderful!” Dazai clapped his hands together, “You’ve saved the day, my man.”

“No problem!” Taki assured him, as Dazai and Chuuya moved to get into the cab, “It’s not too far away, I won’t even charge ya, newlywed special.”

“See? This isn’t so bad,” Dazai murmured to Chuuya, once they were seated. The redhead merely glanced at him, rewarding him with a withering look.

“Sorry if I interrupted you guys before, I was just so shocked to see ya out walkin around,” Taki announced as he pulled away from the curb, “Especially this one!” he thumbed over his shoulder in Chuuya’s direction, an obnoxiously loud laugh pouring from his mouth that Dazai joined in on.

“Wait, what?” Chuuya asked, feeling his urge to murder the other occupants in the car rise.

- 4:04 PM, Saturday June 17th, 12 hours and 4 minutes later:

Taki dropped them off at the same intersection that he’d picked them up from the following night. It helped narrow down the possible locations of their wedding ceremony between two that sat roughly an equal distance away from where they were; Chuuya suggested they split up, but Dazai had insisted they go together, since they would need the both of them to possibly get the license thrown out. This was all interrupted a second later, when Chuuya’s phone began to buzz. Glancing at the i.d. display it took him a moment to realize who it was, eyes going wide as panic set in.

“Oh god nononono….” Chuuya gasped, the shrill sound of his ringtone competing for attention.

“Who is it?” Dazai asked, peeking down over his shoulder. Chuuya shoved him away, making no move to answer it.

“It’s Kouyou! God I haven’t talked to her since last night she’s going to MURDER ME.”

“Let it go to voicemail.”

“And get half of the Black Lizards out looking for me? Hell no,” Chuuya summoned every ounce of courage he possessed, lifting the phone to his ear and pressing the receive button.

“Chuuya,” Kouyou’s voice was measured, but he could hear the suspicion hiding just underneath.

“Ane-san, what’s up?” Chuuya responded, trying to sound casual as could be.

“Well, i’m just wondering what time you got in last night, i’d thought you would have called me to complain about Dazai.” The irony that Dazai was standing about two feet away, inspecting the crosswalk buttons wasn’t lost on him.

“Oh, that,” Chuuya muttered, “Well I stopped by another bar on my way home...had to wash the taste of that whole encounter out of my mouth,” he tried to laugh, but it sounded flat in his own ears.

“Uh-huh,” Kouyou sounded unconvinced, but didn’t press further, “How did it go?”

I ENDED UP MARRYING MY MORTAL ENEMY AND FORMER LOVER! Chuuya’s brain screamed in agony, but there was no way he’d say that, “Alright. Kunikida’s a stick in the mud. Dazai’s still an asshole. About how we expected.” Dazai glanced up at him, lips pursed in annoyance.

“Well, at least it’s out of the way,” she sighed, “Honestly Chuuya, I panic every single time you have to see that man now, I can imagine what kind of mistakes could be made…”

An expression somewhere between a smile and a grimace was frozen to his face, “Bet you caaannnn’t….” he gritted through his teeth, too quiet for her to hear.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to be fixed up, there’s someone in another department that I think-”

“How LONG is this going to take!?” Dazai exclaimed suddenly, forcing a jump from Chuuya who nearly dropped his phone in terror.

“Chuuya?” Kouyou called, sounding suspicious, “Who was that? Are you-”

“IHAVETOGORIGHTNOWIMSORRYILOVEYOUGOODBYE,” Chuuya yelled from the other end in a rush, ending the call abruptly.

Dazai wore an innocent smile as Chuuya turned to glare at him murderously.

“Why the fuck did you do that!?” Chuuya growled.

“Because you were taking forever and I'm tired of standing here!” Dazai whined, “Worked, didn't it?”

“WILL YOU PLEASE STOP TRYING TO DESTROY MY LIFE FOR 5 MINUTES!?”

“Like there's anything there worth destroying…”

Chuuya seized Dazai by the lapels, jerking him around while bringing his fist up.

“YOU WOULDN'T HIT YOUR LOVING HUSBAND IN PUBLIC, WOULD YOU!?” Dazai exclaimed, drawing startled looks from people passing on the sidewalk. Chuuya froze, eyes wide as the other man's face contorted around his evil smile. The redhead could feel his hands shake with suppressed rage, shoving the man away before stalking over to the nearest building and squatting there, well out of foot traffic.

“Oh c’mon hat rack you'll be fine, Kouyou wouldn't kill her prized pupil.”

“I don’t…” Chuuya swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes everywhere but Dazai, “I don't care about that, whatever.” Sure he'd panicked about her, but truth be told Chuuya had been out of sorts since before he'd gotten in the taxi. Everything he'd been told today, by the manager, and the taxi driver, and the note on the flowers had been buried in his brain, seeping through his thoughts to grow and fester and finally create an insidious little question that now threatened to tear him apart.

What if? it asked. What if everyone else could see something that they couldn’t? What if everything they'd tossed away four years ago had remained in some form? What if this was truly what they'd wanted, and it had taken being stripped of their inhibitions to realize it?

Dazai scratched at the back of his head, one eye shut, mouth twisted into a frown, “So what's the problem?”

”Everything,” Chuuya groaned.

“Oh calm down, it's not that bad…”

“YES. YES IT IS!” Chuuya yelled back glaring up at Dazai, “How is it NOT the worst thing ever!?”

Dazai’s eyebrows rose, asking himself the same question and why he'd said that before quickly batting it away, “You're being a spazz right now, either spill the beans or-”

“EVERYONE THINKS WE’RE IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER!!!” Chuuya screamed, hands held on either side of his head like he wanted to claw his face off, “The manager at the hotel, the card on the flowers, the taxi guy-”

“The front desk clerk,” Dazai slipped in.

”What?” Chuuya stared up at Dazai open-mouthed, “Why...why didn't you say anything?”

“Why didn't you mention the manager?” Dazai asked back. Chuuya's lips crashed shut.

“Because! Because...it's embarrassing! As if I'd ever...ever be in love…”

The wind gently ruffled Dazai's hair, sending errant strands loose to curl over his cheek, warm brown eyes turned down on Chuuya with...pity? No, no it wasn't that, his eyebrows were drawn together but he was looking at Chuuya...in the same way that Chuuya was looking back at him…

Chuuya jumped up immediately, face flushed he tore away from the spot and Dazai altogether.

“Chuuya-”

“DON’T!” Chuuya yelled back, jerking his arm away from Dazai’s fingertips, “You...you go to the other spot on the map, i’ll take this one,” he barked, turning away again at a quickened pace.

Dazai stood there, watching the retreating back of his unwilling spouse meld into the crowd on the sidewalk, a strange, unfamiliar twist in his stomach. He had a talent for hiding his emotions until even he believed they were nothing, but his insides were a riot right now. Just as Chuuya had his own conflicts with what they’d heard from everyone today, Dazai was having trouble reconciling the idea of himself and happiness, a concept so foreign he had no point of reference. Everyone had mentioned it in one way or another. Dazai was a good actor, but not when black out drunk. Which meant it had to be the truth, and yet…

Turning towards his own destination, hands jammed into his pockets he tried to remember the last time - any time - he’d actually felt happy. There had been times solving cases with The Agency where he felt proud, smug, self assured, but not happy exactly. His time with Oda and Ango had been good, a bright spot in an otherwise gloomy and nightmarish existence that he’d eventually cast off. When he thought of those times now though, a cloud of sorrow hung over them, remembering what it felt like to learn of Ango’s betrayal and hold Oda’s lifeless body in his arms. He had felt relief when the man had been alive, to speak to an equal and express the endless void that existed within him. But happy? Dazai wasn’t sure it qualified.

Stepping from a curbside and into the dazzling summer sun, he caught the sound of laughter and running, hair caught in the wind he turned to see where it was coming from but it wasn’t here and now he realized, eyes widening as his memories rose to answer his question.

Sun drenched plains of grass yawned out before them, a rare treat for children who were often kept inside with their studies. Ane-san had said something about how fresh air was essential to their development, until finally Mori had relented and allowed for a small holiday. Dazai raced forward, bare feet sliding over the dew soaked lawn, hair whipping around his face. He was a kid for once, racing and laughing and joking and not whatever Mori was trying to warp him into. He would have ran forever but a voice called from behind, turning Dazai’s head with a grin.

“Dazzzaaaiii!” Chuuya shouted after him, racing to catch up, “You said you’d wait!” The sun caught in his ginger hair and turned it to fire, locks curling around his heart-shaped face to frame the most vibrant blue eyes he’d even seen. Dazai slowed and came to a stop when Chuuya was in range, turning on a dime to catch him around the waist and pull him back against him, ignoring the smaller boy’s shouts of protest. Their struggle forced them to the ground, sliding sideways to roll down the gentle hill there, flipping over each other to land at the bottom side by side. Dazai laughed loud and long, hand still wrapped around Chuuya’s wrist. The little redhead stared at his partner in crime and sometimes enemy, blinking at the wide, genuine smile he wore before cracking one of his own. Giggling their play turned into a wrestling match, but then Dazai was standing in the middle of an intersection, the horn from a truck blaring right next to him…

As quickly as possible he jogged across to the opposite curb, mind still a blur. His heart pounded in his chest, not from nearly being hit by a truck, but from what he’d seen. He hadn’t remembered that day for years, but now it came back like a punch to the face, vibrant and alive and gold-tinted. He felt the same exhilaration from that happy moment in his chest, as if a link existed through time that brought him back there.

It wasn’t the only one though; His arms caught Chuuya mid-fall from the ceiling, the other boy kicking and screaming insults in the face of his enormous grin. Chuuya raised his elbow, showing Dazai the precise placement needed to deflect a hit. Moonlight caught the copper of Chuuya’s hair as he slept next to Dazai as children. Dazai laid in a hospital bed, but Chuuya insisted on helping wrap bandages around his arm. Dazai blinks when Chuuya pulls away, face flushed from a quick peck to Dazai’s lips, the first of many. Chuuya comes back from Corruption for the first time and seeing those blue eyes flutter open sends his heart soaring. They lean against the wall of a hallway inside the Port Mafia compound, and Dazai imitates Hirotsu until Chuuya can hardly breathe from laughing. Face flushed red, Chuuya covers his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes lidded, red locks pooling against the pillowcase below Dazai. They pass a bottle of sake back and forth between each other, perched on a roof overlooking most of Yokohama, cigarette smoke clinging to them. Dazai sways with Chuuya against his chest, the slow jazz music seeping through the starry darkness, the redhead nuzzling sleepily at his neck.

Dazai stands stock-still, eyes wide as pedestrians pass by without a clue that he’s having a full blown crisis.

The realization hits like the truck that should have mowed him down, and suddenly it’s imperative that he finds the location they were married at, before Chuuya does, he’s a man of facts after all and before anything happens he needs to confirm something with his own eyes. There’s no time for him to waste going to the place Chuuya picked for him if it’s not the right one, so he crossed his fingers and does what he should have done from the start, but hadn’t wanted to do from the questions that might arise.

He pulls out his cellphone, quickly tabbing through contacts to find the one he needs. His phone rings and before the person on the other end can even greet him he begins to speak.

“Atsushi-kun, Do. Not. Say. Anything.” he commands in a hushed tone, “Do not let anyone there know you’re on the phone with me.”

He gets silence for a couple long seconds, “Okaaay….” Atsushi responds eventually, sounding unsure, “What...what’s going on…?”

“No time, I need you to do me a favor. Get up, right now…” Dazai waits for a moment, “Are you getting up?”

A startled scrape of a chair comes through loud and clear “Y-yes?”

“Without drawing attention!”

“Ah, i’m sorry!” Atsushi apologizes too loudly.

“Now, carefully...and quietly...walk out of the office...and into the hallway…”

“Ok, I can-” Atsushi was interrupted by the phone sliding from his fingers to impact with the floor, the sound of something crashing right next to it unmistakable. Dazai stared at his own phone, listening as Atsushi’s phone was snatched back up, feet pounding quickly against the floor and the slam of a door.

“I’m in the hallway!” Atsushi announced, as Dazai slides a hand over his face.

“Fine, that’s fine...Listen Atsushi-kun, i’m in the middle of a very important case,” he lies.

“A case? That’s weird, the president asked if you were coming into work earlier, wouldn’t he know about that?”

“IT’S A VERY TOP SECRET CASE.”

“OH! Ok then, how can I help?” Atsushi asks and Dazai almost feels bad about lying to him. Almost.

“Is Kunikida-kun in today?” Dazai questioned.

“Mmm nope, not yet at least...Yosano-san said something about him coming in around lunch time maybe.”

“Ok then, here’s what I need you to do.”

Dazai explains it all to Atsushi, going over the plan in detail. When the boy is ready, he slides back into the office, making sure that none of his co workers are paying attention before creeping over to Kunikida’s desk, booting up his computer and quickly locating the program that contains all the data tracing Agency members through their phones. Atsushi, with Dazai speaking in his ear, is able to bring up a map of Dazai’s movements from the night before. When he reads off one address in particular, Dazai’s eyes pop.

“Yes! That’s it. Thank you, Atsushi-kun that was exactly what I needed to solve this.” It’s the location that Chuuya had left to him, and now he knows he won’t have to loop back to try to head the other man off.

“Anytime,” Atsushi replies cheerfully, “Oh Dazai-san, before you go, what do you want me to do about the message on the answering machine?”

“What message on the answering machine?” Dazai asked, only half paying attention, already on his way to his destination.

“The one you left last night saying you’d found the love of your life and that you were getting married and didn’t know when you were coming back.”

Dazai jerked to a halt, eyes wide, a terrified smile on his lips.

“ATSUSHI DID ANYONE ELSE HEAR THAT MESSAGE BUT YOU?”

“N-no! I...well I mean…”

”Atsushi…” Dazai hissed.

“W-well Ranpo-san was there but he said he didn’t care about you…”

“Oh thank god,” Dazai sighed with relief.

“So should I…?”

“YES. YES DELETE IT IMMEDIATELY.”

When they hung up, Atsushi moved right away to do as he was told, logging into the Agency’s call system to erase Dazai’s drunken escapades. With a satisfied smile he lowered the phone, strolling back over to his desk.

“Hey Atsushi-kun, what was that all about?” Tanizaki asked, as Atsushi took his seat.

“I have no idea,” Atsushi smiled brightly, just as Kunikida practically sprinted into the office looking like he’d slept in his clothes or forgot to brush his hair.

“We have an emergency!” he announced loudly, drawing the attention of the core Agency members and the office staff.

“Don’t care,” Ranpo muttered under his breath, not bothering to look up from his paper.

“Dazai has been kidnapped by the Port Mafia. Again.” Kunikida went on, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, “I received a message sent from his phone last night.”

“Uhhh….Kunikida-san…” Atsushi tried.

“This is obviously some sort of taunt, or...or i’m not sure exactly, but I do know-”

“Kunikida-san I just spoke to Dazai on the phone, he’s fine,” Atsushi interrupted, hoping to save the man some face. Kunikida stared at Atsushi for a long moment, as if trying to reconcile what he’d said. As the Agency gathered around him, surprise quickly morphed to shock, to disbelief.

“Then...do you mean…” Kunikida looked down at his phone, “This is...real?”

Before anyone could ask, Yosano snatched the phone from his hands, her own eyes blowing wide, “OH. MY. GOD.” she exclaimed, her open-mouthed look of shock rapidly turning up at the corners into a devious smile at what she saw.

She turned the phone in her hand, showing the screen to the group surrounding them. The text contained a photo of Dazai looking blissfully drunk, mouth a wide grin, arm thrown over the shoulders of Chuuya Nakahara, his former partner and current enemy, who looked just as elated as Dazai. Curled into the taller man’s chest, they both had their left hands raised, flashing a pair of shiny platinum wedding bands at the camera.

The room erupted. Several of the girls working in the office pulled the phone forward, excited shrieks echoing off the walls. Atsushi’s eyebrows had yet to descend from his hairline. Kunikida looked like he might pass out.

From behind the group, Ranpo stood, setting his paper aside, “Ok, i’m interested now.”

- 6:27 PM, Saturday June 17th, 14 hours and 27 minutes later:

Chuuya exited the chapel building, his shoulders slumped. They'd had no record of Dazai and himself, which meant that the other man was no doubt on his way to the actual location now. He should have hurried after him, but the day had taken its toll and now all Chuuya wanted was to sit alone with his thoughts and contemplate his situation.

He strolled off in the direction of a park, seeking out a shaded bench across from a paved path that people walked and jogged and biked up and down, a playground stationed on the other side. It was quieter here, without the sound of cars or horns, although the distant shouts of children could be heard. He just needed a moment to clear his head before they ended this all.

Still hung up on everything that had happened today, Chuuya tried to pin down his feelings on Dazai. He had spent four years claiming to hate him, that his betrayal had ended anything he felt for him yet...if that were true, how come he kept winding up with him? Was it simply nostalgia for the past? Did he miss it so much that he was willing to close his eyes to who Dazai was now just to chase away the loneliness he felt in the man's absence?

It couldn't be just that, if that were the case any substitute would do, but Chuuya had side-stepped all of Kouyou’s attempts at setting him up. His brain was hardwired to making horrible decisions with Dazai, this being the worst by far. But were they truly accidents, or was he intentionally putting himself in the path of disaster because it was what he really desired?

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the man approach his bench, jumping slightly when he spoke to him.

“Pardon me, but would you mind if I rested here for a moment, sir?” the older man requested politely, gesturing to the other side of Chuuya's bench with his cane. He looked to be in his late 60s to early 70s, still fit and dapper despite his age with a mustache and copper hair similar to Chuuya's but not as vibrant. He smiled softly, waiting for Chuuya's answer.

“Of course,” Chuuya responded, moving to make sure he had enough room. The man thanked him softly, sitting without any difficulty, eyes turned in the same direction as Chuuya’s.

“I must confess something to you,” the man admitted after a few seconds of silence, “You looked troubled when I passed and thought you might need a wise old ear to listen.”

Chuuya glanced at him, a bemused smile on his lips, “Do you do that often, wander around looking for people in peril?”

“More than you might imagine,” the older man smiled back, cane propped up between his legs, hands folded over top, “You get to be so old you're only suited for solving other people's problems it seems.”

Chuuya's smile faded a touch, “Sounds nice....better than having your own problems at least.”

The man looked like he might argue with that sentiment, but he turned his eyes towards Chuuya again, “And what is your problem?”

Chuuya didn't know why he was even considering telling the old man, but there was just something about him...something grandfatherly that made him feel like he could trust him despite trusting nearly no one. He glanced away, fingers fiddling with the brim of his hat in his hands before speaking.

“I uhh….I got married yesterday…” he revealed.

“Oh! Well congratulations then,” the man smiled softly.

“...Yeah...I...Think it was probably a mistake,” Chuuya trailed off, scratching at the back of his head.

“Oh,” the man replied, sounding surprised, “And why do you think that?”

Chuuya released a shuddering laugh, “We’re not good for each other. Like at all. We'd probably end up killing each other in the long run.”

“I see…” the man murmured, worrying at his chin, “Then how is it that you came to be wed?”

About two and a half bottles of top shelf liquor, Chuuya wanted to say but thought better of it, “We just keep ending up together, no matter what...and I'm starting to think I'm doing it on purpose…” he sighed.

The man made a sound of understanding, gazing off in the direction of the playground, “So despite this...animosity that exists between you, you still wish to be with him?”

He wanted to argue that that wasn't the case, that Dazai was a thorn in his side, a total annoyance. But he couldn't deny that he'd willingly been in some quasi-relationship with him for years before he'd left, and that on some level, he still wanted that. Deep down, he missed Dazai in a way he didn't fully understand.

“And how does he feel about you?”

Chuuya laughed at the question, “Oh he hates me. He's even more distraught than I am.”

“And how certain are you of that?”

He thought back to every time they'd interacted today, their fights and their jabs at each other, all the times Dazai had teased him. When had Dazai not teased him though? How could Chuuya be certain of anything when Dazai kept his cards so close to his chest?

“I don't know,” Chuuya murmured, realizing he couldn't be sure of anything.

A hint of a smile clung to the man's lips, watching Chuuya contemplate his question. He settled back into the bench more firmly, squaring his shoulders.

“I know it's none of my business, but if I might say, it sounds like poor communication is the root of your problem, not each other,” he stated, “All successful partnerships are built on a foundation of good communication.”

Chuuya's eyebrows furrowed slightly at his mention of partnership, but he said nothing.

“You may find times when things don't work out. You may say the wrong things, do something to upset the other, even hurt them, betray them. If you are unwilling to work through it...to remember why you came together in the first place, or the happiness you used to feel...well, then perhaps you're right. Maybe it is doomed. Maybe you shouldn't be together...but it seems something is intent on keeping you together. Call it attraction, or fate...or love.”

Chuuya gazed at the pavement under his feet, turning over his words in his head. The man glanced at him to gauge their effect.

“How would you feel, if you did say goodbye?” he asked softly, “if you could no longer see him, for the rest of your life? Under no condition?”

Months ago Chuuya would have laughed at the question, blurted out that he'd be ecstatic. Now? Now his heart seemed to seize in his chest, remembering the look in Dazai's eyes before they'd last parted. It would be the same pain from the past four years multiplied exponentially. Never? Could he live never seeing him again?

No.

The realization hit him head-on. Despite how annoying, how infuriating Dazai could be, there were other parts to him, ones he’d glimpsed sporadically throughout his entire time being in his life. He was more than goofy grins and jokes made at Chuuya’s expense. He was the rock solid foundation that he put his trust in every time he let Corruption take him. He was the brilliant strategist who figured in Chuuya’s safety when making all of his plans. He was the little boy who had grown up beside him. The gangly adolescent who’d taught him to kiss. The reckless teenager who’d always allowed him to fuss over his injuries with a bemused smile. The man he’d grown to love.

“...I'm in love with him.”

The man blinked at Chuuya's whispered confession. Slowly, a secretive smile unfurled across his face.

“Well then... perhaps things aren't so dire after all.”

- 6:41 PM, Saturday June 17th, 14 hours and 41 minutes later:

Dazai raced to the 24 hour chapel, phone still in hand. He had expected a message from Chuuya any time now that he was on his way, so Dazai had to act fast. He careened in the front door, nearly wiping out a display for honeymoon travel packages before spotting the guy manning the front desk.

“Hey!” he shouted, startling him from a magazine he was leafing through, “Was I here last night?” Dazai asked, pointing to himself.

The man took a second to look at him, taking on a look of realization in a matter of seconds, “Oh yeah! You were here with the little redhead, right?”

Dazai went limp, falling forward at the waist in relief, exhaling hard, “Oh god, thank you,” he hissed.

“What can I do for you buddy, you come by for pictures? We're not done processing them yet but-”

Dazai was on him in a flash, grabbing him by the front of his shirt across the counter and hauling him in close, “Video. You took video, right? Please tell me you did.”

The guy was too shocked to do anything but nod rapidly, mouth hanging open, “Y-yeah, of course, did you want to-”

”YES,” Dazai grit through his teeth, a slightly unhinged look in his eyes.

They moved into the back where video and photos were handled, a cramped room containing several monitors and racks of blank disks awaiting them. The business owner took only a couple minutes going through folders labeled with customer names to find it.

“We haven't had time to edit any of it, you'd just be looking at the raw footage,” the man clarified, “You ok buddy? You seem kinda tense.”

Dazai was rocking back on his heels almost frantically, fingernails caught between his teeth with his opposite hand buried in the crook of his elbow, “I'm totally fine,” he confirmed, sounding the exact opposite of fine. He needed to see it for himself, to clarify if what everyone else had said was true. There would be no mistaking it, not with Dazai at least.

The guy shrugged, popping the cd into the disk drive, “Ok then.”

- Zero Hour:

“Sir? SIR?” a voice called from across the room. Dazai opened his eyes, mouth still glued to Chuuya's own; reluctantly they parted, Dazai craning his neck around to see what the guy wanted.

“You two can come with me now,” the man announced, sounding a little embarrassed on their behalf.

Dazai didn't know the meaning of the word right now, grinning wide he scooped Chuuya up bridal style, swinging him around with a little more force than any drunk man should have. Chuuya yelled, head flopping backwards, legs kicking.

“I think this is supposed to happens AFTER the wedding,” he slurred, a hint of a giggle in his voice. Dazai himself couldn't keep a smile off his face, gazing at his soon-to-be husband as he reached up to wind an arm around his neck for more leverage.

“Maybe I want to carry you everywhere,” Dazai teased, as Chuuya brought their foreheads together.

“Maybe I'll let you,” Chuuya teased back with a grin.

“Maybe you should,” Dazai said, attempting to steal a peck from Chuuya's lips, the redhead leaning back out of range with his tongue out.

“Maybe-”

“AHEM,” the man interrupted them again.

They eventually made it through the winding hallway (after being yelled at twice more) to the area reserved for wedding ceremonies. The official was a guy around their age, wearing a tuxedo t-shirt and drinking from a thermos that didn’t smell like coffee. They’d had to sign paperwork first and pick out rings; Chuuya had put up a drunken fit that he wouldn’t put anything worth less than a hundred thousand yen on his finger, until Dazai had relented and paid for the pricier set. Which of course let to more kissing, to everyone else’s dismay.

When the time came they were directed over to a little arch, the official standing front and center with his script. Dazai grabbed up a bouquet of fake flowers and began a stilted March towards the center, while Chuuya dissolved into laughter on his arm. He snatched the flowers away, tossing them over his head just as Dazai grabbed his shoulders, pulling him around to dip and kiss him. The official cleared his throat loudly.

“Yeah you don't do that till the end,” he pointed out, interrupting them.

“Sorry, I've never been married before,” Dazai grinned, pulling Chuuya back up with him. The official didn't seem impressed.

“Alright, so you probably know how this goes already,” he began, voice so bored it bordered on monotone, “You say your vows, you exchange rings, then you kiss, and we're done here.”

He cleared his throat, reading from his script and seemingly praying for this to be over as quickly as possible, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join,” he paused, pointing at Dazai first.

“Osamu Dazai.”

“And?”

“Chuuya Nakahara,” Chuuya supplied when he was pointed at.

“-in holy matrimony. All those that oppose…” the official scanned the room behind them, “Yeah we can skip that…” he muttered, turning a page.

“Here's the vow portion - Osamu, do you-”

“Wait wait wait, I wanna say something first,” Dazai interrupted, taking Chuuya's hands in his own.

“You...really don't have to do that,” the official informed him flatly.

Dazai ignored him, turning towards Chuuya. His eyes softened just looking at him, a subdued smile on his lips, “Ok, so first - wow, you're really pretty, thank you for marrying me,” he started, getting distracted.

“Anytime,” Chuuya grinned.

“Second…” Dazai paused, swaying slightly, lost in the other man's eyes. He took a long exhale, taking a firmer grip on the redhead’s hands, feeling strangely sober for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he smiled softy. For a couple seconds, Chuuya was confused.

“For?”

“Everything,” Dazai swallowed, and Chuuya suddenly didn’t know if he’d ever seen the man be this honest before in his life, “I spent...so much time running from everything. I still am. From who I am and was, the things i’ve done...from what I feel…” he trailed off, smile slipping.

“I ran from you too...because I was afraid,” he said softly, “Of what you made me feel, or of how I could let you down, of how I could hurt you worse than I already have.”

“I left, but I never wanted to leave you... I thought...it was better for you to hate me. And I kept that up, this entire time...because it was easier than admitting how I felt and how much i’d fucked everything up,” Dazai admitted, a slight tremor in his voice.

“And even now I think this might be the dumbest thing we could do,” he laughed, a hint of his smile returning, “but I don't know if we’ll ever get another shot. When else am I gonna admit all this?” he grinned.

“I love you,” Dazai finished, voice going quiet, “I always have...you make me happy. I hope I can do the same now.”

Tears ran down Chuuya’s face, lips pressed together to keep from trembling.

“I think we can get to those vows now,” Dazai smiled, glancing at the officiator.

“Finally…” the guy growled low, turning the page and getting back on script.

- 6:57 PM, Saturday June 17th, 14 hours and 57 minutes later:

The screen displayed the exchange of vows between the two men, capped by Chuuya throwing himself into Dazai’s arms for their ceremonious kiss. As everything came to an end, the screen shifted to stationary blue, the cramped room suddenly deathly quiet. Dazai continued to stare at the screen.

“Are...you ok…?” the owner asked again in a hushed voice.

Dazai blinked, the spell finally broken. He only glanced at the other man, eyebrows furrowing as he turned this new puzzle piece over in his head.

“I...yeah,” he answered, although he honestly couldn’t tell. He felt a million miles away right now, or like he’d just watched complete strangers instead of himself and Chuuya. Dragging shaky fingers through his hair he turned back to the owner.

“Thanks...I need-”

“Listen, I know you guys were wasted,” the man interrupted Dazai, “And I can’t exactly refund your money, i’d be out of business if I did that to every drunk couple that comes through here...but if you want me to torch the paperwork and basically make this all go away? I can do that,” he offered.

Dazai’s eyes widened minutely, frozen on the spot. That was what they wanted, right? To not have to worry about this, or go through a divorce. They wanted to not be married to each other. That was the gist of it, right?

Right?

- 8:28 PM, Saturday June 17th, 16 hours and 28 minutes later:

Chuuya arrived at the location that Dazai designated via text a few minutes before the other man. It was a public space next to the harbor, one of those little tourist traps that was only good for snapping pictures of the Yokohama skyline over the water or admiring the nearby flowers and shrubbery. It was a strange choice for them to meet there, but Dazai had assured him that everything had been taken care of at the chapel and that he would fill Chuuya in on everything before they parted ways. All he had to do now was wait and admire the setting sun, at least relieved that he would not in fact go home as Mr. Dazai-Nakahara. Or at least...that was what he’d chosen to tell himself.

The long unmistakable shadow of his former partner fell over Chuuya to alert him to Dazai’s presence. For a moment they didn’t say anything to each other, looking out towards the water which had turned red and gold and turquoise from the setting sun. Finally, Dazai shifted next to him.

“Walk with me,” he requested lightly, as if he were an executive again, merely discussing business with his associate. Curious, Chuuya rose to follow him, heading down towards the shoreline. Presumably it was to tell him how things at the chapel had gone; had Dazai had to bribe them? Threaten? Did Dazai kill everyone in a chapel to just to make sure they didn’t stay married!?

Mind whirring away, Chuuya didn’t realize they’d stopped at the water’s edge, along a little mand-made outcropping for easier viewing of the harbor. It was far enough away that no one would hear them. Dazai seemed very much at ease, standing across from Chuuya but with his face turned towards the sea, the sun throwing his profile into sharp relief, highlighting the slight smile that played over the curve of his lips. Maybe Chuuya spent a little more time than necessary taking in the way the wind ruffled his hair, but he was growing impatient.

“So…” Chuuya began, breaking Dazai’s meditative state, “How did it go?” he tried. Dazai finally turned to regard Chuuya, brown eyes uncharacteristically soft. It threw Chuuya for a loop momentarily, watching the way they soaked up all the light around them to turn almost golden, glowing with a fondness he hadn’t seen since the old days.

“It went about as expected,” Dazai smiled, not his usual cocky grin but a genuine one that Chuuya had assumed he’d forgotten how to make, “When I found out that it was the right chapel, I made the owner show me the video he’d taken from the night before,” Dazai informed him.

“What?” Chuuya blinked, eyebrows creasing, “Why?”

Dazai shrugged, still smiling, “I was curious...anyway, he offered to tear up the license if I wanted, didn’t even have to twist his arm over it.”

Chuuya let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding until now, “Good. Thats...good,” he sighed.

“I said no,” Dazai admitted quietly.

For a long moment, neither men spoke. Chuuya must have misheard him. That was the only explanation.

“W-what?” he stuttered, blue eyes comically wide, “What...are you serious?” Chuuya demanded.

Dazai could see the agitation in Chuuya grow by the millisecond; there was only one way to stop it now.

“Chuuya…” Dazai murmured, stepping into the smaller man’s space, close enough that Chuuya was forced to look up into his eyes. For a moment Dazai wavered slightly, the desire to bury his true emotions just as he’d always done strong, but he couldn’t, not now. The same soft smile returned to his lips, staring down into the eyes of the man who he’d known for most of his life.

“Chuuya,” he spoke again, “How could I say yes...when i’m in love with you?”

Unable to speak, Chuuya simply stared back at Dazai, lips parted in surprise as he attempted to process what he was being told. Even when Dazai backed away slightly, taking his hand in his before dropping to one knee, Chuuya couldn’t reconcile that this was actually happening.

Dazai slipped the platinum band from Chuuya’s ring finger, twisting it in his own before speaking again, “Chuuya Nakahara...will you do me the honor...of staying married to me?” he asked quietly, sliding the band back onto his finger again. He glanced back up at the man he loved, awaiting an answer with a grin.

The answer came seconds later when Chuuya physically tossed him from the outlook and into the sea.

Dazai sputtered, head breaking the water to the sounds of Chuuya screaming from the shoreline.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?” Chuuya bellowed, fists clenched in rage, “AFTER ALL THIS SHIT, ALL THIS RUNNING AROUND? AFTER YOU’VE-” Chuuya made a frustrated sound, raising his fists like he wanted to punch a wall, or maybe Dazai, “-TREATED ME LIKE THIS, FOR YEARS, YOU LOVE ME? YOU LOVE ME, AND NOW YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE IT!?”

Dazai made no attempt to climb out of the water, sloshing around in the gentle waves that lapped against the shore, allowing Chuuya’s anger to run it’s course, “Yep. Pretty much.”

“YOU-” Chuuya stopped himself, now aware of the eyes that were turned in the pair’s direction from all corners of the pier, “You...are in love with me...and it took accidentally getting married while drunk for you to understand this?” he asked at a lower volume, still simmering with anger.

“Well, i’m not exactly the paradigm of emotional health as you know,” Dazai shrugged, the shift in his arms creating a wet squelching noise.

Chuuya pinched between his brows, attempting to stop himself from physically strangling the other man to death.

“Why,” Chuuya finally demanded, “Why should I believe you, after everything? After you leaving? After you spending four years pretending I don’t exist or desperately trying to convince me that you hate me?”

Dazai’s face took on a somber tone, knowing that Chuuya had every right to ask those questions. His mind raced back to the video he’d only witnessed himself an hour before; the words were still there in his mind, but he wasn’t going to repeat it word for word. Chuuya deserved more than that.

“You shouldn’t,” Dazai finally answered, devoid of any ulterior motives, “You have zero reasons to believe anything I say, and I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you turned and walked away. Hell, maybe you should.”

“You’re not really doing a good job of convincing-”

“You deserve more than this, Chuuya,” Dazai interrupted.

Chuuya stared back at the other man, watching as he rose from the waist deep water to wade closer to the edge Chuuya stood on, “I’m not asking you to believe me, but you do know me. And I know you. And I know myself. And I can’t-” Dazai stopped short, unbearably uncomfortable with being this candid, he pressed on, “I can’t, in good conscious, knowing what I am, ask you to ignore all that simply because I love you. That’s...that’s how much I care about you,” he swallowed thickly.

“I love you enough to tell you to run...like i’ve been doing this whole time. Because I don’t know what the fuck i’m doing,” Dazai smiled sadly, “I don’t know what I can offer you that someone else can’t...but I know that being with you has been the only time in my entire miserable existence where i’ve truly been happy,” he admitted, the last few words unmistakably shaky.

Chuuya stared down at Dazai. He’d never in a million years anticipate this level of honesty from him. That Dazai was admitting to loving someone - anyone - and also being unselfish enough for once to realize his shortcomings, and not expect anything back…

This was the Dazai he’d been missing.

I’m in love with him, Chuuya’s own voice echoed back to him from that afternoon.

Dazai’s eye’s widened, barely having a second’s warning before Chuuya lept from the shore’s edge to practically land in his arms with a splash. Hat and coat lost to the waves, Chuuya looked just as surprised as the other man, pushing sodden crimson locks from his face. The pair stared at each other, allowing the water to pull and push them together until the weight of everything seemed to settle around them. Dazai’s face shifted from amazement into joy, pulling the redhead to him. Chuuya’s own hands found their way to Dazai’s shoulders, close enough that his golden brown eyes were all that he could see.

“Did my self deprecation really pay off?” Dazai grinned.

“You were just so pathetic...I had to throw myself in too so you wouldn’t feel bad,” Chuuya answered, attempting to keep a straight face.

Dazai’s grin only grew more genuine, “I love you,” was his simple response.

Chuuya’s lips twitched, fighting the urge to feel embarrassed or minimize the riot erupting in his chest, “I...love you too,” he admitted softly.

Dazai seized the moment, pressing his forehead to Chuuya’s, angling to take his lips with his own. Chuuya’s eyes slipped shut, allowing the taller man to guide the kiss.

When they pulled apart moments later, Chuuya cleared the stars from his eyes, fixing his husband with a serious look, “This doesn’t mean you get to keep behaving like you always do. No more pranks, no dodging my calls, and you get to explain everything to Kouyou.”

”What? she’s like...your mom or something, you tell her.”

“You’re the one who wanted to stay married.”

“You obviously did too, or else we wouldn’t be floating here in soaked underwear-”

“Oh my god, it hasn’t even been five minutes…”

“Whatever, when are you moving your things over?”

Chuuya made a sound of incredulity, “Excuse me? I’m not living in a dump, you’re moving into my apartment.”

“Ok,” Dazai agreed, smothering a smile that clearly telegraphed that he’d engineered that agreement.

“...You know what-” Chuuya began, lifting his arm before Dazai seized it, pulling it aside to seal his lips with Chuuya’s once again. When they parted for a second time, Dazai sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, eyes lidded.

“Y’know...we’ve still got that suite reserved for another night~” he reminded Chuuya suggestively.

Chuuya’s face flushed, but he didn’t do much to hide it, “Call a cab, ask if they’ll bring blankets...we can wait another 24 hours to tell anyone” he choked out, attempting to pull Dazai closer to the shore.

From a safe distance away, outside the small crowd of onlookers who watched as the two men pulled themselves from the sea, another man stood along a row of trees, eyes crinkling with mirth above the smile he wore.

Natsume Soseki straightened his hat, swinging his cane around to take his leave.

“Sometimes...all anyone needs is a gentle push,” he chuckled, disappearing into the evening dusk of Yokohama.