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The silence of his apartment was weighing on Chuuya’s chest. He had always lived alone, and the silence was not unfamiliar to him. But occasionally it seemed crushing, a reminder of how alone he was when not with the Mafia. A reminder that he had nothing outside of his job but an apartment that looked like a display case.
His own home seemed alien and untouchable to him from where he sat on his couch. His eyes had long ago adjusted to the darkness the engulfed the entire apartment. Chuuya’s back ached from where the arm rest of the couch dug into his spine. Actually, if he thought about it, he realised that his teeth were sending waves of pain through his skull with how tightly they were clenched as he had been lost in thought.
Drawing up his knees to his chest, he propped his chin onto his kneecaps as he glanced at the kitchen. He knew for a fact that the fridge only had a few hard boiled eggs within it and that was it. He couldn’t actually remember if he ate today, the hours had blended into a thick sludge that dulled his sense.
At least the fridge had eggs, the pantry was worse, completely barren aside from a few half empty spice bottles. The apartment seemed like a sarcophagus. Empty and ready to be locked away with Chuuya inside, completely sterile.
The maid he had hired stopped coming by weekly. She came maybe once a month, as every time she came before only left her a cup or two to put away as Chuuya never touched anything but his room in the huge apartment anymore. Even the wine rack was empty, after having to get his stomach pumped for alcohol poising twice in a row, he took a break.
He sat in the same spot on the couch. He slept in the same spot on his bed. Changed into the same clothes. He rarely cooked or ate at home, the messes were nonexistent to speak of.
From his spot on the couch, he lurched upright at the sound of knocking on his door.
It seemed to echo in the empty apartment, bouncing off of the empty walls and absorbing into the carpet.
Placing his feet on the ground, he bit back a groan as his knees popped loudly from the change of position. A glance at his stove clock told him that he had been sitting in place on the couch for three hours.
Where had the time gone?
Chuuya pulled the door open without much thought as of who would be knocking at his apartment’s heavy wooden door at 3am on the weekend.
The Mafia rarely required him now that he was one of the highest executives, rather the lower level agents were called to the field. Chuuya’s presence was necessary if there was a great need for brute force, but due to the fact that he could not use corruption anymore without Dazai. Even then he was rarely called upon.
Maybe if it was four year earlier he would have given a second thought to it being Dazai, but Dazai left and there had not been a late night visit from him since the week before he abandoned the Mafia.
So when he tugged open the door with one hand, rubbing sleep from his eyes with the other. He was shocked to look up into two brown eyes, that belonged to his ex-partner. The world seemed to stop midair, looming over his head with a great weight.
Dazai had blown up his car, left without a word and never hinted at any sort of return to their friendship. Hell, chuuya had called his phone a hundred times sober and a couple more drunk in the first two years of Dazai’s disappearance. All of his attempts were met with a cold silence, it felt like he was speaking to a grave.
Any hope that Dazai would return had diminished after the second year, and after the third year he assumed his ex-partner had truly died.
He had cried more than a few times at the thought that Dazai truly did not give a second thought to Chuuya, after all their years of working together, and what Chuuya thought was a friendship.
“Chuu-Chuu?” Dazai’s quiet voice filled his ears. It was the only sound in the empty hallway. It was jarring all the same, not due to the volume but because the tone was something new to the Dazai that Chuuya could recall growing up with.
Though the nickname was still one he had always hated, it wasn’t spoken in a mocking tone this time. Had it even been said without a jab behind it? God, it could even sound like it was concerned if it didn’t belong to Dazai. It was as alien to Chuuya's ears as seeing Dazai’s face was to his eyes after four years.
Chuuya’s sapphire eyes snapped back to ex-partner’s face all the same, he hadn’t realised that they had drifted away as he stood silently in the doorway. Dazai was not smiling, not truly. There was a quirk to his lips like he was trying to make himself appear softer, easier to adjust to as he stood in front of his ex-partner.
But his eyes were concerned. Since when were emotions so easy to read in his dark eyes?
Since when were emotions even in his eyes?
Since four years ago, a voice whispered in the back of Chuuya’s mind. It brought a bright pain to the middle of his chest.
It did not hurt to look at Dazai in the way he had always thought it would upon the taller boy’s return. It was not all consuming, but it was heavy and ached through every single one of Chuuya’s cells.
If Chuuya wasn’t so tired, he may have been embarrassed to be seen in his pyjamas.
For as long as they were partners, he had never let Dazai see him when he wasn’t fully dressed.
His partner had brutally made fun of him for it, implying that Chuuya was so loyal to the Mafia and Mori’s demands that he did not even take time to sleep.
But the truth was that Chuuya had been scared.
He was afraid of his partner creating insults about the final thing Chuuya had for himself.
His fashion and wine tastes were Dazai’s sharpest insults, but those were things that the smaller man let others see purposefully.
Lounge wear and exhaustion were not things that Chuuya chose to share with the world.
They were private. They were for him to enjoy, and for no one to weaponise.
When Dazai had broken into his apartment the few times Chuuya was in lounge wear, he had quickly slipped into the bathroom to change before Dazai could fully enter into his home.
Chuuya was careful to protect himself from unnecessary weight and insults when he was at his lowest.
“Are you going to punch me?” Dazai quipped. He was grinning now, spreading his arms wide while the apples of his cheeks causes his eyes to squint.
The apples of his cheeks? Since when did that beanpole have enough weight on his body to allow his cheeks to rise in that way.
Chuuya was aware that his mouth was parted slightly in surprise. He was aware of his eyebrows furrowed deeply while he stared at his ex-partners cheeks with an intense amount of confusion.
He was not aware of how Dazai’s heart rapidly beat in his chest as he watched the redhead stand in his doorway in silence. Dazai was expecting anger. He had steeled himself to endure the beating of a life time. He was ready to bleed, to suffer and then explain. He had prepared a speech to give to the little mafasio that would explain his disappearance. He was ready for anything, he thought.
But Chuuya's empty stare and confused expression cleared the brunette’s mind of all that he has planned to say. It truly seemed that the redhead had never expected for this moment to come.
He was swamped in sweatpants and a shirt that Dazai vaguely found familiar. The sleeves too long, were bunched at the elbows where Chuuya’s arms hung limp at his sides. Even his hands were not clenched into fists like Dazai expected them to be. This Chuuya was so painfully unfamiliar to Dazai that it made their separation all so much more apparent.
The silence stretched and Chuuya only seemed to slip back into his mind again. Dazai felt choked with concern. Since when had the firecracker of a person ever been silent with Dazai.
Since when could Dazai no longer predict what the redhead would do? He was so sure that the smaller man would scream, maybe even cry if he truly was upset. But the silence was never a possibility to Dazai.
“Chuuya?” Dazai all but whispered as he took a step towards the other man. That seemed to waken the chibi, because as soon as Dazai shifted, Chuuya lurched backwards into his apartment.
Dazai gasped in surprise as he realised that Chuuya’s eyes were wide and...scared?
Chuuya had looked at Dazai with a thousand different expressions in their time together. But he was never afraid of his partner. He had never looked at the taller man with glassy, wide eyes and shrunk on himself as he did now.
Chuuya made certain to always appear bigger than he was. Though he hated his smaller stature, he was sure to fill it the most he could with loud voices, wild gestures and a haughty attitude. Chuuya never appeared small.
But now, he looked like a broken child, one who was unsure of how to grasp the situation around them. He was shrunken, shoulders sagging as he stared blankly at Dazai who was frozen, one leg extended as he had abandoned any movement of approaching the redhead.
Dazai closed his mouth, which had been paused in a small o’. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Dazai tucked his hands into his coat pockets while he tried to think of what to do. The silence was stretching, and Chuuya’s breathing becoming strained. The small panicked puffs were too much for Dazai to stand.
“Please,” he bowed his head, to Chuuya; an act that four years ago neither of them would have ever dreamed of. “Let me in so we can talk.”
There was no answer from the redhead, but quiet steps retreated into the dark apartment.
Dazai glanced up through his bangs, to see that the doorway was indeed empty of his ex-partner. The apartment was dark, the normally bright lights extinguished with the late night hours.
With a deep breath, the brunette squared his shoulders as he raised to his full height. Clearing his throat, he stepped into Chuuya’s apartment for what felt like the first time in a lifetime.
He slowly slipped the door shut behind him and the apartment was completely plunged in darkness. The moonlight was not allowed into the apartment it seemed as the large bay windows did not let a sliver of light in through the blackout curtains. Dazai could only stand as his eyes attempted to focus, becau-
“You can turn the light on,” Chuuya’s quiet voice sounded from where Dazai knew the couch was. Dazai groped at the wall beside him. When he finally found the light-switch he hummed in approval as the overhead lights bathed the sitting room in a soft glow.
He glanced at his partner, who was sitting on the couch, hugging his knees to his chest while he watched Dazai toe off his shoes.
Dazai awkwardly made his way to the far end of the couch, where he lowered himself to rest on the cushions. He could not help his eyes travelling over the apartment.
It looked the same, the layout had not changed. It was cleaner than the chibi ever used to have it before Dazai left.
No old mail was scattered on the coffee table. Wine bottles were nowhere to be seen, or any takeout containers. It almost looked unlived in Dazai thought to himself.
Pursing his lips, Dazai glanced at Chuuya, who to his surprise made eye contact. He watched as the redhead seemed to drink in his features.
“Hello little chibi,” Dazai whispered fondly. He had missed his partner. He never regretted leaving the Mafia. But he dreamed of taking Chuuya with him. It tore him apart to know that it would never have been considered by the smaller man. The Mafia would use Chuuya till he died, and he would allow them to do so. Loyal to a fault.
Chuuya said nothing in reply, but he wet his lips, a nervous habit of his. His normally bright eyes were dull, shifting all over his ex-partners face as if he was afraid Dazai would disappear.
“You are real.” Scratching at the back of his neck, Chuuya spoke as if he was solidifying the fact for himself. Stating a fact so that it would seem to carry a greater weight than it did already.
Dazai raises a single eyebrow at his partner before agreeing, “Yes. I am very much real, just like you, Chibi.”
Chuuya flinches at the nickname, causing a stone to settle in the bottom of Dazai’s stomach.
“I am here,” he said, attempting to move on from the slip up. He knew it was too soon, but habits die hard. “I won’t lie, I expected a lot of anger and maybe a few slaps from you,” Dazai admitted after a few more second of silence.
Chuuya hmmed noncommittally.
“I am tired. Too tired for that kind of emotional output.”
The honesty was brutal. Naked and more vulnerable than anything Chuuya had said before to his partner. Admitting a lack of energy to the second part of the antagonistic duo.
All the brunette could do was mutter a small ‘oh’ while Chuuya shifted closer, crawling onto the middle cushion of the couch so that his knees brushed Dazai’s, who was sat with his legs crossed facing Chuuya.
“Can-“ Chuuya cut himself off, seemingly embarrassed. “Can I-“
”Anything,” Dazai cut him off, the word spilling from his mouth before he could think of what he was allowing. Chuuya sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, biting his lip as he nodded to himself.
Slowly, the smaller male raised his hands towards Dazai’s face. Confusion coloured the brunette’s face, as he noticed the shaking in his partner’s hands.
Cold fingers touched each of Dazai’s cheeks. Eight little ice drops, grazing the warm skin of his face.
A gasp escaped from Chukka’s lips when he fingers touched skin. Small puffs of warm air grazed Dazai’s chin from Chuuya’s parted mouth
Dazai watched in horror as the redheads eyes filled with tears. His irises swam within their sockets, but the tears did not spill yet.
The taller male felt his chest clench painfully at the utter heartbreak written across Chuuya’s face.
Chuuya was always emotional, but he never cried. He chose anger before sadness at every turn, he in all his time spent with Dazai, had never let his partner see his tears.
But now, they threatened to fall from their perch on his waterline, when Chuuya cupped Dazai’s face in his hands.
Dazai was suddenly glad he had never seen his partner cry before, because it absolutely ripped his heart apart within his chest.
There was so much pain within the redhead’s sharp face, that Dazai hated himself for ever leaving him behind. I hope you hated me and never cried for me when I left.
Dazai could not think of a time when someone had held his face in such a tender way. Chuuya's hands slipped down to rest on his jaw, his thumbs pushing into the fat of Dazai’s cheeks, while his middle fingers settled behind Dazai’s ears and his pointers brushed over them.
He was staring at Dazai with such intensity that it made the brunette squirm.
He could pretend that it did not bother him to be stared at in such a way, but the masks Dazai wore never worked on Chuuya. He saw no point in pretended to be unbothered by the proximity.
“You-“ Chuuya’s voice cracked painfully, so he paused and sucked in a breath through his teeth. Taking a moment he brushed his thumbs across Dazai’s cheeks. “You are soft,” he breathed out while tears spilled down his cheeks.
They were so close that Dazai felt a few tears splatter across his own knees as Chuuya shifted closer still.
“I am so afraid that if I let you go, you will disappear again.” Chuuya’s confession was followed by a jagged sob, as his head dropped down to hang between his shoulders. His hands slipped to grab desperately at Dazai’s shoulders while he sobbed endlessly.
Dazai was horrified to feel tears stinging at his own eyes. He had not cried since Oda died, and before that he could not remember a time he had cried. But seeing Chuuya so broken down, so utterly unfamiliar to Dazai, it causes a splitting pain to fill his chest.
He has never been good with emotion. Dazai never knew how to really break it down, or handle it. He preferred to mask it and move on, but this was too overwhelming. He did not know how to handle it except for letting Chuuya cling to him as he seemed to hold Dazai together at the same time.
Chuuya seemed to sink further into himself. The weight of his own misery pushing him to rest his forehead against Dazai’s bony shins, his small body bent entirely in half.
“Oh little one,” Dazai choked out, but the humour was lost on it as it sounded punched out of him. Chuuya’s arms slumped down to join the rest of him, so his bony fingers instead clung to Dazai’s waist. They were cold even through Dazai’s shirt, like Chuuya’s life had slipped out of, a living corpse.
“Fuck, Chuuya.” Dazai muttered as he failed to blink the tears out of his own vision. The apartment seemed to twist on itself as Dazai stared at anything but the crumbling man in his lap.
How did he ever think that leaving him behind was the better choice?
”If I didn’t stop drinking last year, I would be scared I was hallucinating you again.”
Somehow, Chuuya’s whispered confession caused the most blinding pain to fill Dazai’s being that he’d ever felt. If he had to guess, he would assume that it was probably regret and guilt that caused his chest to suck in and crush itself.
The fact that Chuuya had stopped drinking, could only lead Dazai to think that there was a greater, more terrible reason. And the idea that Chuuya’s drunken mind conjured him was so devastating that Dazai had to act.
Placing his hands on Chuuya’s small shoulders, Dazai slowly pushed him off of his lap so that the red headed man was sitting up once again. A slight whine sounded from the older man, as if it pained him physically, but he said nothing else.
Sitting back onto his calves, Chuuya’s hands slipped off Dazai’s waist to rest on his own knees, where his gaze stayed locked onto his empty hands.
The smaller man’s face twisted in a pained acceptance, like he was okay with the fact that Dazai was removing himself once again. But his expression quickly morphed into surprise as Dazai grabbed him beneath his arms, like he was a child, and hauled him into Dazai’s lap.
Dazai gently shifted Chuuya’s body, so that he was resting sideways across his lap, with his nose buried into Dazai’s neck. Dazai secretly was surprised at the lack of resistance from Chuuya, who always batted Dazai away when he shoved the smaller male around before.
It was no secret that Chuuya is a tactile person, but the vulnerability of being held was something he rarely shared with his partner.
Tentatively Chuuya wrapped his arm around Dazai’s waist. His shaking hand slowly cupping the bigger male’s side.
When his partner did not push him away, Chuuya slumped fully against him and Dazai couldn’t help but to liken it to a puppet with its strings cut.
“I haven’t been held in a while,” Chuuya murmured into Dazai’s neck. He traced his nose against the edge of his ex-partner’s jaw, causing a shiver to wrack Dazai’s frame.
“It doesn’t seem like you’ve done a lot of things in a while,” Dazai muttered into his hair as he looked at the empty apartment.
He kissed the auburn locks as Chuuya hummed without further comment and nestled further into the curve of of his neck.
With his arms wrapped around the smaller male, Dazai could feel the sharp peaks of his shoulder blades digging into Dazai’s own underarm. Curious, he pressed his fingers against Chuuya’s waist, and frowned when he could easily feel the small ribs beneath his finger tips, even through the thick shirt he wore.
”You been taking care of my dog for me?” Though Dazai has changed in the last four years, when it comes to Chuuya, he still has a difficult time finding what approach to use with him.
Chuuya didn’t bother responding to it. Seemingly too distracted and exhausted to try and navigate a response.
In the past, Dazai knew what to say and do to get a response from Chuuya. He knew what to do to get him to open up. But this is not the same Chuuya. The old redhead would have fought him when he tried to cuddle him, or would have muttered some insult. There are so many reasons as to why Dazai is completely lost on how to approach this new man.
Removing one of his arms, Dazai traces a hand over Chuuya’s facial bones. He feels the too strong cheek bones and slope of his nose.
“You have lost wei-“
“Don’t,” Chuuya snapped. His voice is weak, but the clear implication that Dazai should take a step back is there.
Dazai loosens his hold, expecting Chuuya to remove himself from his grasp.
“God, no!” Chuuya yelps, panic laced in those simple two words. “Don’t leave me, I’m sorry, Dazai. I’m sorry, please stay.”
“I’m not, wai-“
Wet sobs fill the air once again as Chuuya scrambles and twists in Dazai’s lap so that he is straddling him and can wrap his limbs tightly around Dazai.
Dazai sat frozen in shock of Chuuya’s outburst, his arms held a few inches away from Chuuya’s form as he tried to figure out what just happened.
The smaller man clutches tightly at the back of Dazai’s coat as his thighs lock together around the taller man’s waist.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” Chuuya rasps out between staccato breaths. Dazai can feel the panicked breathing from where Chuuya is all but glued to him, chest to chest.
What the hell are you sorry for?
“I can’t-“ Another gut wrenching sob tears from Chuuya, causing his entire frame to shake as he buried his face into his partners shoulder.
“I can’t do it anymore. If you leave me again, I-I” Chuuya lifts his head to stare into Dazai’s wide eyes. “I w-will kill myself, I swear I will.”
“What the absolute fuck, Chuuya!” Dazai is all but getting whiplash from the shift of emotions that roll of the small man in his lap.
His words are seemingly lost on him as Chuuya just rapidly shook his head, his loose hair brushing Dazai’s face before Chuuya’s head hung between his shoulders again.
“Christ, I can’t, Osamu.” Bony hands latch onto Dazai’s face, crushing his cheeks together as Chuuya panics further.
“I can’t fucking live like this!” Chuuya all but shouts into his own lap, while Dazai stares at the top of his head in bewilderment.
Between Chuuya’s clear panic attack and the use of his first name, Dazai feels sick and so much more lost than he’d felt when he left four years ago.
“I-I thought you were fine!” Dazai reasons. Terror filling his chest as Chuuya gasps for breath, clutching at his throat as if someone is constricting his air on purpose.
“You left me!” Chuuya wails. Any form of sanity seems to have left his small frame as he does nothing but shake and repeat that he would die if Dazai left again.
“You left me here, with him.” Chuuya spat.
“Sweetheart, oh.” Dazai shook his head, wrapping his arms around a wailing Chuuya.
“You have to stop, it’s okay.” Dazai murmurs into Chuuya’s ear.
Chuuya groans as if in pain before gasping for breath again, his ability slowly allowing small tendrils of red to twirl upon his skin between the time that Dazai lifted his hands from Chuuya’s skin.
“Breath with me, Chuuya.”
“Osamu, Osamu, I can’t. I-“ Chuuya let another pitiful sob out. His body choking on cries between breaths.
Chuuya tried to draw a deep breath twice before giving up and scrambling at Dazai’s forearm so that he can grab at Dazai’s hand.
Vulnerability was something that they did not share with one another, and Dazai more often than not found out Chuuya suffered for far longer than necessary before turning to Dazai.
He bit his lip, listening as Chuuya’s breathing deepened with the passing minutes, the smaller male holding Dazai’s like a lifeline The smaller man’s head lolled a little further back than in the beginning. His cheeks red with strain, blue eyes glazed as he stared at Dazai.
His breathing now normal, though painful sounding. The once iron like grip that Chuuya’s thighs had on Dazai, were loose, his legs spread slightly. While Chuuya’s right hand stayed locked onto the wrist of the hand clasped on his neck.
Dazai moved his hand up to brush against Chuuya’s cheek, as his other hand cups his side while Dazai takes his time in examining Chuuya’s features.
The smaller man’s eyes are slowly sharpening as he rises from whatever depth that he slipped into. His relaxed muscles slowly tensing as he comes back to reality.
Dazai can see the second that the redhead truly comes back into his body. He sees the pupils blow wide with adrenaline, the shamed blush overtaking the clammy pale skin. He watches as the content tilt of Chuuya’s mouth tightens into a self-deprecating line.
“Let me go,” Chuuya growls as he finally looks at Dazai’s open face.
“Do you want me to?” His partner challenges without a second thought. He surprises himself with his boldness, and apparently surprises Chuuya too as the redhead stills in his lap.
”No,” Chuuya whispered after a moment of silence, his blue eyes staring at a spot to the left of Dazai’s mouth. With great effort, his partner contained his urge to smile smugly at the admission.
Rather, Dazai hums without another word. Though he does lean forward and place, possibly the softest kiss he has ever given, directly between Chuuya’s eyebrows.
There is no complaint from the smaller man, who sighs deeply before letting his head fall with a thump against Dazai’s chest. Still straddling his ex-partner, Chuuya seems to have decided to ignore the embarrassment he briefly was overcome with.
“You said you stopped drinking?” Dazai was afraid he’d gone too far asking for Chuuya to reveal more painful information about himself. But he couldn’t help the question from escaping when he stared at the empty wine rack in the kitchen.
“Pft,” The redhead scoffed twice more and shook his head.
“Got my stomach pumped twice in a couple weeks and decided I should probably find some alternative methods of coping.” He paused “I also got yelled at a lot by her.”
Dazai didn’t need to know which hot headed doctor he was talking about.
“You sure you didn’t want to just stop seeing me?” It was a weak joke, and Dazai sounded so sad that it really just seemed like a question.
Chuuya tensed for a moment, but then buried his nose against Dazai’s pulse point and took a deep breath.
“Only drank to see you sometimes.”
If the arms around him clenched just a little tighter, Chuuya did not say anything about it. And if he felt a few salty droplets hit his hair and shoulders, well he didn’t say anything about those either.
”Are you sure you don’t want to hit me?” The brunette asked shakily.
With a sigh, Chuuya pushed himself off of Dazai’s lap and onto his own cushion again. He rubbed at his swollen eyes before speaking slowly,
”I’m just so tired. I don’t have the energy to even think of being angry, I just want to-“ He cut himself off as he ducked his head down, holding it within his own hands.
“What can I do?” Desperation coloured Dazai’s question. Chuuya glanced up, alarm in his eyes as he looked at his ex-partner.
He truly did not know this man. His face is almost entirely different, his features have grown into a man’s. He no longer is a skeletal boy that ran with Chuuya in the past. There is heartbreak in his eyes, tear tracks tracing down his cheeks. But there is a determination in his face that Chuuya doesn’t think he’s ever seen so clearly.
“I think,” Chuuya brushed a hand over Dazai’s leg, “that you have done enough today.” Closing his eyes, Chuuya can feel himself sway with exhaustion.
“Okay.” A quiet acceptance that allowed for Chuuya to relax further into himself.
“If you want, you can carry me to my bed and stay with me. I don’t think I could sleep well alone tonight.”
“I don’t deserve to sleep with you.”
”Then do it because it’s what I need, not for yourself.”
Dazai sighs but nods before pushing himself off of the couch to stand. He reaches out in question for Chuuya’s hands. But the redhead just smiled tiredly and lifted his arms.
With a fond scoff, Dazai crouched to pick up his ex-partner. Carrying him bridal style towards his room as Chuuya nods off against his shoulder.
His heart sinks a little at the second bedside table, covered in dust and exactly as he remembers it. Swallowing the lump in his throat he laid Chuuya down onto his bed and looks him over once before reaching for the blanket.
“That shirt is mine isn’t it?”
A single sapphire eye squints up at him.
”No, it is clearly mine now.”
“My mistake.”
”Just get in, Osamu.”
”My mistake,” Dazai murmurs as he crawled into the overly large bed.
“ ‘m cold, ‘samu.” Chuuya muttered as he turned to face Dazai, who laid on his back staring at the ceiling.
“Then I will hold you till you’re warm,” Dazai replied as Chuuya cuddled closer and fell asleep.