Archive of Our Own

“These reports are a mess,” Kouyou mutters, barely looking at the papers in her hands. 

“They always are,” Chuuya replies, cigarette between his fingers, not even bothering to check. 

“Mm.” She turns a page. “And you’re not even going to pretend to care?”  

“...”

"You’ve been looking lighter lately, pal," Kouyou says after a few minutes of quietly observing the boy seated in front of her.

Chuuya takes the cigarette out of his mouth, exhaling slowly before replying, "No hard missions. Nothing to complain about."

"And your encounters with Dazai have nothing to do with that good mood of yours, then?"

Chuuya clicks his tongue, glancing away for a second. "We're… having fun."

We are… doing something, Chuuya thinks. Although, the redheaded boy can’t quite figure out what that something is. The alliance between the Port Mafia and the ADA has been growing stronger every day. It seems like that business party really helped everyone get along better. He’s noticed how Akutagawa has been softer lately — it’s good to see some kind of happiness on the boy’s face.

Still, there’s a strong chance that whatever is happening with Dazai will fall back into the same old pattern of giving and taking. Old mistakes never die, they say.

Kouyou doesn’t respond to Chuuya’s remark, only letting out a small hum.

Tightening his grip on the papers in his hand, Chuuya hears his phone buzz and reaches for it quickly.

Dinner today? My treat.

The casualness of the message pulls a small smile from him. It feels nice — fucking nice — to read something like that in the middle of his day, as if it’s part of his routine. Well… for the past few weeks, it really has been.

Yeah. 7 pm?

Yes, love. I’ll pick you up at your place. Doll yourself up for me :)

That makes Chuuya blush. How exactly was he supposed to doll himself up? He likes the way he dresses — maybe Dazai doesn’t? Was he expecting something different? Maybe he’s already getting a little tired of him, and needs something new to keep things interesting.

…Well, if that’s the case, then Chuuya’s going to doll himself up the best way he can.

“Ane-san…”

“Yes, Chuuya?” Kouyou lifts her head to look at him. “Do you need something, pal?”

Chuuya hadn’t really thought this through before calling her over. Now he just feels embarrassed. It’s a strange thing to ask, isn’t it? So there’s this date tonight with Dazai, and I think I need to look prettier for him… do you have any tips?

That… sounds bad.

“T-there’s—” Fuck. This is so hard.

“How do you style your hair?” he blurts out.

It takes Kouyou a moment to process the question. The older woman’s expression shifts into surprise before breaking into a loud laugh.

“Style my hair, Chuuya?” — she laughs again. “Tha– that’s what you want to ask?”

In a mess of stutters, Chuuya says, “I-I-It’s just—I want to try something new, alright?”

“Alright, alright, pretty boy.” Wiping away the tears that escaped during her laughter, she continues, “Something new? Do you want to make yourself pretty for your boyfriend?”

“NO—”

Chuuya is burning. His whole face turns a deep shade of red, almost purple.

“It has nothing to do with Dazai, Ane-san. I just saw some guy on the street with nice hair and thought about changing mine. Forget it, it’s stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid, pal. You’re a real treat to the human eye—of course I can help with that,” she says with a smirk.

Kouyou doesn’t make it weird. The next few minutes she spends explaining how she styles her hair are some of the calmest they’ve had at the Port Mafia in a while.

A soft moment, where Chuuya finds himself noticing things he never really paid attention to before.

Even with that lingering in the back of his mind — the quiet fear that Dazai might already be getting bored of him — he still finds himself a little excited to try something new.

To impress him.

Make him proud for choosing Chuuya. 

How long is this going to last? 

Chuuya looks at himself in the mirror of his bedroom.

Fuck. Wasn’t he looking… hot?

In the end, Kouyou’s help really turned out amazing. His hair is tied up in a way he’s never tried before, small clips holding it in place, styled just enough to fall over his forehead like makeshift bangs.

He even tried a little makeup — Kouyou’s idea — some eyeliner, a touch of blush that brings out the sharpness of his features.

But the real catch for him is the outfit.

Fuck.

Isn’t it… kind of perfect?

A little adorable, with just enough provocation to make a point. A cropped top, the fabric hugging his torso just right, a silver chain resting against his skin, and a pair of pants that fit him like they were made for him.

It looks good, right? So why–

Chuuya’s fingers hover for a second over the chain at his waist, adjusting it just slightly, then again, like something about it still isn’t right. 

Is this going to be enough for Dazai? 

He exhales through his nose, gaze still locked on his reflection. It’s nice.. he feels nice… he’s pretty right now. And somehow, that only makes it worse. 

What if Dazai doesn’t like it?

He keeps thinking about other people Dazai has asked to be “dolled up” for him, and what they did. He’s ruining his night with these thoughts and he knows it, but— it’s so melancholic, this moment right now, as if happiness is only allowed if there’s something in the future to grieve for, because it works now, it’s new, Dazai has never seen him like this before, and someday he will have seen it too much, and he’ll want someone who does it for the first time. 

Chuuya grabs his phone in a quick movement that pulls his attention away from his own reflection, the screen lighting up against his face, brighter than it should be in a room that suddenly feels too quiet. He’s going to cancel. In the end, he can’t shake the feeling that he didn’t really understand what “doll yourself up” means — he tried, he really did, but that doesn’t mean he got it right. And besides, it would be easier to ruin it himself than wait for Dazai to do it.

His thumb hovers over the keyboard for too long, the conversation already open, that last message still sitting there like it hasn’t been replaying in his head all day — Doll yourself up for me :) — so light, so effortless, like it doesn’t carry any weight at all. He types Something came up. then stops, staring at it for a second before deleting it, only to type again, slower this time — Can we do this another day? — and the sentence just sits there, perfect, simple, safe. He stares at it for too long. It would be easy. Too easy. Just press send and it’s over before it even starts, nothing gets complicated, nothing gets out of his control, nothing turns into something he can’t handle later. If he cancels now, at least it ends here.

But no. No—he can’t cancel like this, not last minute, not like that. He knows he can’t. And still, he can’t stop either. He can’t stop himself from wondering, obsessively, how many times Dazai has said the same thing to someone else. “Doll yourself up for me.” The words echo in his head, slipping too easily into imagined versions of themselves — Dazai saying it out loud, texting it — to girls who probably don’t have to try this hard to look good, who don’t have to stand in the middle of their room staring at themselves like something needs to be fixed, adjusted, reworked until it finally makes sense. Girls who don’t overthink every detail, who don’t second-guess every choice, who don’t have to try this hard just to feel like they might be enough.

His grip on the phone tightens slightly as the thought settles in, uncomfortable and persistent, his eyes still on the screen but not really reading anything anymore. What does that even mean to him? The question repeats itself, over and over, because it’s not just about the words — it’s about what’s behind them, what Dazai is expecting to see, what version of him is supposed to show up tonight. And what if he got it wrong? What if this — all of this — still isn’t it?

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face, trying to shake the thought off like it’s something he can physically get rid of. It doesn’t work. It never does. The phone suddenly feels heavier in his hand, his thumb still hovering close enough to send the message, like it’s tempting him, like it would be so easy to just end it here before it turns into something else. Before it means anything. Before Dazai—

No.

He locks the screen instead, sharper than necessary, the small sound echoing louder than it should in the quiet of the room. For a second, he avoids looking back at the mirror entirely, because if he doesn’t see himself again, he won’t have to question it any further. He exhales slowly, steadying himself in a way that doesn’t really work but gives him something to hold onto anyway.

He’s not going to cancel.

But he’s definitely not going to stop thinking about it.

He decides to pass the time looking out through his window, it’s a nice night outside, he can tell. Big clouds in the sky, city lights revealing the restless life of a friday night, almost speaking to him. 

He wonders if Dazai is already on his way, if he left early or if he’s taking his time-if he’s really coming- if he even thought about what Chuuya is wearing right now, if he’s going to notice the difference or just look at him the same way he always does. Chuuya leans his shoulder against the frame, fingers tapping lightly against the glass, and for a second he lets himself think that maybe this is normal now, maybe this is just what they do, dinners, messages, showing up, staying, like it’s nothing. And that thought alone makes something twist in his chest. Because it can’t be that simple. Not with Dazai. Not with them. 

If I know you, all it takes is a “call me.” And somehow, your goodbyes never really last.

Sometimes, Chuuya would secretly look over Dazai’s phone, just to see if there’s anyone else that the other one was encountering alternating between Chuuya. It hasn't happened yet, catching something. But it will. Chuuya would like to be ready when it happens. 

Everything is embarrassing when it comes to.. love. 

Still– His phone lights up.

I’m here.

Taking a deep breath, Chuuya checks himself in the mirror one last time and murmurs a quiet “You’re pretty” before leaving. The walk to the elevator feels like it takes forever, and the time he spends inside that metal box seems like it will never end. It’s just his head speaking, he knows that, but still— he swallows it down.

He’s here now, standing in the main hall of his building, Dazai waiting outside so they can go to dinner.

Dazai is leaning against the car, hands buried in his pockets, his expression impossible to read, carrying that untouchable air he always seems to wear. He’s dressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt, a leather jacket thrown over it, and a long brown coat completing the look. Too many layers, Chuuya thinks, his eyes lingering on him. It’s not even that cold tonight, just a faint chill in the air.

Chuuya clicks his tongue under his breath, still watching. Always so dramatic for no reason.

He starts to approach the taller man in small steps, eyes fixed on his shoes the whole way there. He’s nervous, not ready yet to see Dazai’s reaction to how he looks. There’s something bitter sitting in his throat, and all he can think is that Dazai must be measuring him now.

“Hi.”

“Fuck.”

Chuuya looks up at him. “What?”

“You are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen”

Chuuya doesn’t reply. The words haven’t quite reached him yet.

Dazai’s fingers hover near the chain at Chuuya’s waist before he even realizes what he’s doing.

“You’re trying to kill me,” he mutters. “I’m changing my mind. No dinner outside. Let’s just go inside and order something. I can’t have other people looking at you.”

What…?

“Shut up, you suicidal maniac.” Ok. He might have succeeded in his attempt to look good. He did get a good reaction out of Dazai, that’s great. He’s happy. 

Dazai moves slowly and plants a small kiss on Chuuya’s hand, then, with a smirk, leans closer and presses a kiss to his mouth. “You’re beautiful, baby. Seems like you’re trying to kill me.”

“I-I’m not anything, alright? Can we go?”

“No compliments for me? You’re hurting my feelings, Chuuya~~”

As if Chuuya needs to compliment him. Dazai is effortlessly handsome… he knows that. Not everyone has that face.

“Why so many layers, you idiot, Dazai?” Chuuya grumbles, trying to divert his attention. “I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s not that cold. Or are we going somewhere freezing? Should I go back inside and grab a jacket?”

Dazai looks at him with a softness in his eyes, clearly amused by the way the boy talks. “No, love, you don’t need to. I can give you mine if you want. And you’re right~~ it’s not that cold. Let’s just say I…”

A pause settles in the air, the distant sound of cars passing by the street suddenly louder.

“What, are you sick or something?” Chuuya asks, suddenly worried. It wouldn’t make sense to go out if Dazai wasn’t feeling well.

“I’m not wearing my bandages today, Chuuya~~,” Dazai says in a playful tone, but his gaze is serious — and Chuuya notices the way his jaw is set.

Oh.

“You…?” Chuuya can’t finish the sentence, staring at him for a second before looking away, his gaze flickering anywhere but at Dazai.

“Don’t look so surprised. You’ve seen me without them before~~” There it is again — that playful tone that doesn’t match the situation, nor his expression.

“I know… but…”

“Relax, Chuuya,” Dazai sighs softly. “I’m fine.”

“You… you’re really handsome…” Chuuya says after a few seconds just staring into his eyes.

“Hm?”

“You asked for it, didn’t you? A compliment. Well… you look good.”

“Yeah?”

Fuck.

“Y-yes. Can we go now?” 

With a small smile, Dazai guides Chuuya to the passenger seat, opening the door for him before closing it once he’s inside, then walking around to the driver’s side.

“I think you’re going to like the place I chose for us tonight. They have one of those nice wines you like~”

The engine starts, the low sound filling the silence between them as Dazai pulls away from the curb. Chuuya leans back in his seat, crossing his arms loosely, eyes fixed on the window even though the reflection keeps pulling him back to himself.

This is so nice, he thinks. A day busy at work, and then, having a date with the person he loves. It’s really nice. There’s a small forever in this moment–

“What made you go through all this effort, sweetheart?” Dazai says, resting a hand on Chuuya’s thigh.

That’s a strange question to ask for someone who literally told him to look better tonight, Chuuya thinks. But maybe he’s overthinking. The truth is… Chuuya has never had dates like these past few weeks with Dazai, and of course, never had anything close to a real relationship outside of their usual back-and-forth.

“Well… I wanted to try something new. Why?”

Dazai looks at him for a moment after stopping at the traffic light. “…”

There’s a loud silence after that. Dazai seems to be drowning in the thoughts as Chuuya is, the small box with the ring he wants to give him tonight sitting heavy in his jacket pocket, almost scratching at him, urging him to just take it out already.

“You know, Chuuya… some things get harder to run from when they look back.” 

For a second, the thought comes, fast and unwelcome.

Mine.

His fingers press a little harder into Chuuya’s thigh before easing again,

...

But at that, Chuuya doesn’t know what to say. It’s a strange thing to hear. Sometimes Dazai says cryptic shit, and Chuuya doesn’t have much energy left to question it. Whatever is going through Dazai’s mind, Chuuya never quite understands it correctly. 

Dazai must notice that the boy beside him isn’t going to say anything, because he breaks the silence himself. “I could definitely survive in the wild, you know.”

Chuuya lets out a laugh. A suicidal man talking about surviving?

“Or you could finally have your suicide actually succeed,” he says, laughing a little louder.

“But Chuuya~~ where’s the fun in dying right now? Life has been so good to me.”

Oh? Did that crazy suicidal man find a therapist? Or maybe things at the Agency are going really well for him, talking like that.

“That’s concerning.”  

This time, Dazai lets out a laugh.  

“We’re almost there, prince.”

Prince, huh? That’s new.

Then Chuuya looks through the window, and they’re already in a nicer part of the city — wide streets, clean sidewalks, tall buildings with glass reflecting the lights from passing cars, restaurants lined up one after the other, warm yellow lights spilling out onto the pavement, people dressed a little better than usual, laughing, talking, moving like they belong there. It’s nothing unfamiliar to him, not really, but still… it feels different like this. Slower. Quieter in a way. Like the night is meant to be enjoyed instead of just passed through.

He catches himself staring for a second longer than he should, then looks away, settling back into his seat.

It’s nice.

And for a moment, Chuuya lets himself imagine it — stepping out of the car, walking down those streets side by side, fingers brushing until they don’t anymore, until they just… stay there. Like it’s natural. Like it’s allowed. Like they’re just another couple passing through the night without thinking too much about it.

That thought alone is enough to make something flutter low in his stomach.

Then he realizes — this is exactly what’s going to happen.

It already has been.

For the past few weeks.

He’s afraid. Right now it almost feels like his heart is at its limit, drunk on all these nice feelings, like life has never felt this full before. Hoping it never ends isn’t going to change anything, so he tries to keep all of it in his chest, hold onto it, so he can remember it once it’s gone. 

“We’re here, baby.” 

The car slows to a stop in front of a place that looks like it belongs in another part of the city — glass walls, soft lights glowing from the inside, a quiet kind of movement behind them, people talking low, waiters passing by like everything is carefully timed. The street itself feels calmer here, like the noise from the rest of the city doesn’t quite reach this far, like everything slows down just enough to be noticed.

Chuuya looks up, taking a second to really see it.

“Wow… I’ve never been to a place like this.”

“Yeah? Well, good for me.” Dazai glances at him for just a second, something softer crossing his expression before he looks away and steps out of the car. A moment later, he’s at Chuuya’s side, opening the door for him. 

“C’mon, honey.”

Chuuya steps out, adjusting his sleeve without really thinking about it, and Dazai’s gaze flicks down for a second — quick, but there — before he straightens again.

Their hands meet almost naturally as they walk toward the entrance, Dazai’s grip loose but steady, thumb brushing once against Chuuya’s knuckles before settling.

A woman near the entrance looks up as they approach, offering a polite smile as she straightens slightly behind the stand. 

“I have a reservation under Osamu Dazai.”

“Of course, sir. Please follow me.”

The place is quieter than Chuuya expected. Soft lighting spreads across the room, warm and low, reflecting off polished floors and glass surfaces. The tables are spaced far apart, each one carefully set, untouched, like they’ve been waiting. There’s a faint sound of music somewhere in the background, barely there, just enough to fill the silence without breaking it. Even the air feels different — heavier, controlled, like nothing here is left to chance.

Chuuya slows his steps just slightly, eyes moving around, taking it all in.

But instead of stopping, the hostess keeps walking — past the main dining area, toward a staircase tucked discreetly along the side of the room.

“This way, sir,” she says softly.

Chuuya glances at Dazai for a brief second.

The sound of their steps shifts as they move away from the main floor, quieter now, the murmur of the restaurant fading behind them with each step up. The lighting grows dimmer, softer — more private.

By the time they reach the second floor, it’s almost silent. No voices. No movement. Just the same warm light stretching across an open space that looks… untouched.

“You… booked the whole floor?”

“Of course I did, Chuuya~~” Dazai hums, glancing back at him. “What do you take me for?”

It feels strange, almost unreal, like something that shouldn’t be happening to him, not like this, not this easy, like snow falling in the middle of something warm, quiet and out of place, like it’s beautiful but also wrong somehow, like it doesn’t belong here. 

The other dates in the past few weeks haven’t been like this. Sure, they’ve all been romantic, nice — they even went to the cinema once, had lunches during their free time, nights at each other’s apartments, drinking and talking, something strangely normal… for people like them. They’ve had dinners too, good ones, in nice places, but there’s something in the air tonight… it feels impossible, somehow. 

“Baby?”

“H-hi?”

“C’mon, let’s sit. I’m hungry, aren’t you?” Dazai says, guiding Chuuya to a table close to the window.

“Oh— yeah, I’m starving. I could eat this whole place.” It was supposed to be a joke.

Dazai laughs.

Nice.

“Well, I can afford that, yeah.”

As they sit, a waitress hands them the menu — endless fancy dishes filling the pages, along with wines Chuuya’s been dying to try.

The table is smaller than he expected, their knees brush under it almost immediately. But neither of them seems like moving any time soon. It’s subtle, but it’s there — the contact, the warmth . 

Dazai leans back just slightly, one hand resting lazily against the table, fingers tapping once before going still again. His eyes flick up to Chuuya, slow, deliberate, like he’s not in any hurry to look away. 

They spend the next few minutes looking at the menu, choosing what to order. A comfortable silence settles between them for a while.

But even in that comfortable silence, they both feel it — the urge to say something. Anything.

Simple things, how was your day? or did you see the news today? would come out so easily, just to enjoy each other’s company, to hear each other’s voice.

But they don’t.

They’re both afraid to talk.

For their own reasons.

The silence stretches just a little too long before Dazai exhales softly, tapping his fingers once against the table.

“Do you remember that mission in Yokohama port?”

Chuuya looks up, frowning slightly. “Which one? There were a hundred.”

“The one where you almost blew up the entire building because you got annoyed.”

“I did not—”

Dazai smiles, already knowing he did.

“You threw a car.”

Chuuya scoffs, but there’s a laugh sitting right under it. “It was necessary.”

“It really wasn’t.”

That does it.

Chuuya laughs, shaking his head, leaning back in his chair just a little.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“And you still worked with me.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Chuuya.”

I would choose you forever. 

“Have you decided what to order, sir?” 

The waitress waits patiently, pen poised over her notepad.

Chuuya glances down at the menu one last time, pretending to think about it longer than he needs to.

“I’ll have the grilled salmon,” he says, tone a little more confident than he feels, “and… the truffle risotto.”

He pauses, eyes flicking to the wine list.

“And a bottle of… Château Margaux.”

Dazai’s eyebrow lifts just slightly at that, something amused crossing his expression..

“Good choice,” he hums, not sounding like he’s making fun of him. “I’ll have the wagyu steak. Medium rare.”

He leans back in his chair. “And a glass of Yamazaki. Neat.”

The waitress nods, clearly impressed.

“Excellent choices. I’ll have that right out for you.”

As they finish ordering, their eyes meet — brief at first, then locked, caught in each other’s gaze. In this light, with the soft music playing somewhere behind them, there are a thousand things sitting at the tip of their tongues.

Chuuya speaks first.

“What are we doing?”

It’s a simple question.

And for the first time that night — to be honest, in all those weeks they’ve been spending together — Dazai doesn’t know what to say.

The stare continues. Neither of them looks away.

Dazai’s hand trembles slightly against the table. The ring in his jacket pocket feels heavier and heavier, like it’s pressing against him, demanding something. His mouth goes dry as he parts his lips— then closes them again.

“Sorry for asking that… I don’t know what came over me,” Chuuya says, looking away for a second, embarrassed.

“It’s fine,” Dazai answers, softer now. “Let’s eat first… then I’ll respond to you. What do you think?”

Chuuya has this small, creeping feeling that he ruined everything.

And a heavier one right after — that this might be the last date they have together.

He finds himself wishing the food would take a hundred years to arrive, just so this doesn’t have to end.

But at the same time, with the air like this, with everything probably sitting so wrong between them… maybe it’s better to have something else to focus on.

“Yeah, ‘course” he says. 

The silence stretches just a little too long—

“So—”

“I was thinking—”

They both stop.

Dazai lets out a small breath, something almost like a laugh slipping through.

“You go first.”

“No— you started,” Chuuya mutters, already looking away.

“I insist.”

Chuuya clicks his tongue, clearly annoyed— but there’s no real bite to it this time.

“So.. how was your day?”

“My day? Oh, darling—” Dazai laughs, a warm one, genuine in the right way. “Detective stuff. I shouldn’t talk about it, you know.” A pause. “But for Chuuya~~ of course I will.”

He leans forward slightly, like he’s about to say something important— 

“We had to look into a missing cat case. Very serious business. Apparently, the little criminal has been breaking into the same bakery every morning.” He hums, amused. “Atsushi insisted we treat it like a high-priority investigation.”

Dazai taps his fingers lightly against the table, like he’s still thinking about it. “We spent almost two hours following it around. Very professional work.” 

“And of course~~” A beat. “I was thinking about tonight the whole time.”

A small smile pulls at his lips.

“What about your day, Chuuya? Something equally thrilling?”

Chuuya scoffs quietly, looking down at the menu again even though he’s not really reading it anymore. “Well… I guess my day wasn’t as interesting as yours.”

He shrugs, tone casual. “Had to deal with some idiots trying to move stolen jewelry through the port. Nothing big. They were sloppy.” A pause. “Then I spent half the day buried in paperwork with Kouyou.”

A quiet breath leaves him, almost a sigh.

“Until you texted me.”

He almost says that he lost his mind over the text, though, his whole afternoon was consumed by thoughts of whether he looked good enough, whether this was enough, listing every possible way he could bore Dazai sooner or later, but he doesn’t.  

A melancholic smile finds its way to his lips as he thinks about it. Even now — especially after that question — he knows everything is already slipping. Dazai must be dying to get out of here in his own way right now, for reasons Chuuya can’t quite name. 

It feels like they’re never in the same place at the same time — like when one of them is ready, the other isn’t, like they keep missing each other even when they’re right here. 

“Your wine, sir.”

The voice cuts through his thoughts.

Chuuya blinks, the moment breaking just enough for him to breathe again. The bottle is placed on the table, the deep red catching the light as the waitress pours it slowly into his glass.

“And here’s your drink, sir.”

She sets Dazai’s glass in front of him.

“Your main dishes will be ready in a few minutes. Thank you.”

With a small nod, she leaves them alone again.

Chuuya stares at his glass for a moment, if it just sits there long enough… the night will last a little longer.

“I love this place,” Dazai says, voice light again. “I can’t wait for the food. I bet you’re going to love it, Chuuya.”

“Yeah? I’m not that easy to please, you fucker. It better be good.”

“Oh, I know,” Dazai says, smiling over the rim of his glass. “You’re terribly demanding.” 

Dazai’s fingers tighten slightly around his glass, his throat burning faintly after he takes a sip.

“So… Chuuya~~ I was about to ask—how are you feeling about these past few weeks? About us hanging out.”

Oh.

Here it is.

Chuuya has to choose carefully what he’s going to say.

“Nice. Really nice. I’m happy we’re talking again. It’s been… easier on my mind, you know? Not focusing on work all the time.”

A small pause.

“I’m glad. Why?”

Another one.

“If this is about my question earlier, don’t worry about it. I was just trying to make conversation.”

Why? Dazai wants to ask. Why is it so fucking difficult for Chuuya to just say the truth?

He wants to give him everything — all the answers, all of it — but sometimes it feels like the other is running. From things. From him.

If Chuuya asks, Dazai will answer.

If Chuuya asks, Dazai will stay.

“No. It’s not about that~~”

A pause.

Dazai’s expression hardens, just slightly.

“What are you expecting from all of this?”

Chuuya doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how to answer that. A whole lifetime with you, he thinks, is that a good answer? To be with you every day. To share an apartment for real. To come home to you. I… I don’t think I’ll ever love again. Not before, not after.

He would have to drown it in wine and pretend he didn’t mean it. Sorry for wanting too much.

“What kind of question is that, jackass? We’re good, right?”

That’s not what Dazai wants to hear.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Dazai’s voice is quiet.

“I didn’t ask if we’re ‘good’.”

His hands slip into his pockets, fingers closing around the small box.

He looks at Chuuya—

“Here’s your order, sirs.”

The voice cuts in before anything else can be said.

The waitress sets the plate in front of Chuuya first — the salmon perfectly arranged, steam rising softly from it — then places the steak in front of Dazai.

“If you need anything, please let me know. Enjoy your dinner.”

With a polite smile, she leaves them alone once again.

“Wow, ’Samu…” Chuuya says, leaning forward slightly. “This looks really good.” 

He smiles softly at Chuuya.

“I told you, doll.”

“I’m not going to brag about something bad. Now eat — you must be hungry.”

They don’t eat in silence. Here and there, they find things to talk about. The tension from minutes before is left unspoken, like it never happened.

At one point, Chuuya leans forward and takes a bite from Dazai’s fork — almost provocatively — holding eye contact for a second longer than necessary before breaking into a laugh.

From afar, they could almost look like children on holiday, light and careless, like they’re floating in it — there’s too much light between them for anything to go wrong.

Dazai shifts slightly in his seat, his hand brushing against his pocket again.

He hesitates. “Chuuya…”

For a second, it feels like he’s about to say something else. Something important.

But then—

He exhales softly, leaning back in his chair like nothing happened.

“You’re going to finish that?” he nods toward Chuuya’s plate, tone light again.

“Yeah, sorry” Chuuya looks back down at his plate, finishing the last few bites. 

“Don’t be sorry, doll.” Dazai stands. “Excuse me for a moment, alright? I’m going to the restroom.”

“Oh… right. Okay. I’ll be here.” Chuuya gives him a small smile that turns sour as he watches Dazai walk away.

He… wants the night to end, right? He thinks.

—

Dazai stares at his reflection in the mirror, his expression tight. “Get a grip of yourself. Don’t fucking ruin this.”

He splashes water on his face, the cold doing little to steady him.

His hand moves to his jacket, fingers slipping inside, pulling out the small box and he opens it.

This is a big step — one he’s been dying to take.

But standing in front of Chuuya without knowing what the other is thinking sends a shiver through him, sharp and constant. He keeps going over it in his head — different ways to give it to him, different words, different moments.

And still—

there’s that pull.

The urge to hold back and the fear of being too much.

—

“Oh—hi. I already finished,” Chuuya says as soon as Dazai reaches the table.

“Right, baby. Do you want a dessert?”

Not really. But if he says yes… they’ll stay a little longer and Chuuya will try his best to impress him.

“Can we share something? I’m not passing on a sweet treat, but I’m not hungry enough to eat one alone.”

“Hmm~~ is this an excuse for Chuuya to share a spoon with me?” Dazai says with a smirk. “Of course we can, honey. What do you fancy?”

“Mochi… maybe? The strawberry one.”

“Alright.”

Dazai doesn’t even look at the menu this time, just raises a hand slightly.

“We’ll have the strawberry daifuku mochi.” The waitress nods and disappears again.

“I was thinking—” Chuuya starts.

“Oh, that’s not a good sign.”

“Shut up, idiot.”

He hesitates for a second.

“Do you want to come over tonight? My place.”

There’s a faint pink tint to his cheeks — like Dazai hasn’t already spent plenty of nights there over the past few weeks.

“Shameless Chuuya~~ our date isn’t even over yet and you’re already having nasty thoughts.”

“THAT’S NOT—”

“I have something else in mind.”

A pause.

“There’s a place I want to take you after we’re done here.”

Oh.

…okay. That’s good. Another step in their date.

Chuuya smiles, softer this time. “I’d love to.”

“What’s something small that always makes your day better?” 

Chuuya doesn’t even think about it. “When things go right. When I don’t have to fix someone else’s mess.”

“Well~~ I bet it’s stressful to work with Akutagawa, then,” Dazai says, giggling under his breath.

“Yah— it’s not like that. He’s not that bad. Just a little impulsive.”

“Here’s your dessert, sirs.”

The waitress sets the plate between them, the soft texture of the mochi catching the light.

“Thanks.”

“Thank you.”

Chuuya picks up the spoon, glancing up again.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“What makes your day better?”

You.

Sometimes just thinking about you already makes me smile.

Dazai hums softly, tilting his head like he’s actually considering it. “Hmm… good company, I suppose.”

A small pause.

His eyes flick to Chuuya—just for a second. “When it’s not completely unbearable.”

Chuuya laughs at that, and the sound pulls one from Dazai too.

Chuuya picks up the spoon first, cutting the mochi in half with a little more force than necessary before sliding one part toward Dazai’s side of the plate.

“Don’t just stare, idiot. Eat.”

Dazai doesn’t move right away.

His gaze stays on Chuuya — not on the dessert, not on the table — just him.

Dazai hums, finally reaching for the spoon — but instead of taking his own piece, he leans forward slightly and takes a bite from Chuuya’s side.

“Tastes better like this,” he says, almost absentmindedly.

Chuuya freezes for a second.

“You—”

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head, but there’s a faint flush on his cheeks now.

“You’re unbelievable.”

They finish the rest of it in silence both enjoying the silence of each other company and the sweet taste of their desert. 

“Well~~ I’m going to pay, pretty. Stay here,” Dazai says, already standing up.

“We can split, you know. I have way more money than you,” Chuuya says, one eyebrow arched.

Dazai glances back at him, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I invited you, didn’t I?” A pause. “Don’t ruin my pride, Chuuya~~”

“Idiot,” Chuuya mutters, watching him walk away.

He exhales softly once Dazai’s out of sight, pushing himself up from the chair.

He smooths down his shirt, fingers lingering for a second longer than it needs, adjusting the chain at his waist.

Feeling way less nervous than earlier today, now that he knows Dazai isn’t going to drop him home and never call again, he wonders where they’re going now. It’s already late — close to 10 PM on the clock by the wall. They could go to a bar, perhaps? But Chuuya won’t deny that, between that and the comfort of his own place, he’d rather be wrapped up in Dazai’s arms.

Like a labyrinth, Chuuya spends too much time lost in the curves of his own mind, waiting for everything to just fall apart — but with Dazai, over the past few weeks, the only thing that seems to break are the smiles on his face, and that quiet, warm sense of security.

Even now, he’s happy Dazai didn’t give up — that he’s still here, still following through with whatever plans he has for their date.

“Already paid, Chuuya~~ next time I’m stealing your card, those prices are insane,” Dazai says, appearing out of nowhere.

Next time.

“Yah, I said we could split, you fucker.”

“Shh~~ no regrets now. C’mon, we have another stop before home.”

Home.

“Let’s go”

The night air hits them as soon as they step outside. It’s colder than before, but still bearable. The street is quieter now, most of the movement settling into something slower, softer. The lights from the restaurants spill onto the pavement, reflecting faintly on the glass windows, stretching with every passing car.

“Are you cold, baby?” Dazai asks before they reach the car. “Do you want my coat?”

“No. It’s fine.”

Shaking his head, Dazai takes off his coat anyway and drapes it over Chuuya’s shoulders.

“There, doll. Don’t catch a cold, alright?”

Chuuya doesn’t argue, Dazai has another jacket on him anyway. And he’s already walking ahead.

“You’re not even going to tell me?” Chuuya mutters, stepping closer to match his pace.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Dazai hums.

The car is parked just a little further down the street.

Dazai reaches it first, pulling the door open and stepping aside slightly.

“After you, Chuuya~~”

Chuuya rolls his eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it as he slips into the seat. The door closes with a soft sound, shutting out most of the noise from outside.

A second later, Dazai walks around and gets in on the other side.

“It would be fine if we just went home, you know… we don’t have to do anything else,” Chuuya murmurs after a moment of silence inside the car.

Dazai glances at him.

“You don’t want to see where I’m taking you?”

“It’s not that… it’s just— I’m not really in the mood for a bar or anything. I’d rather just go home.”

And have you take these clothes off me, please. He doesn’t say that part.

“We will,” Dazai says softly. “After our final stop.”

“Alright.”

Chuuya pouts slightly, shifting in his seat, something restless settling under his skin.

The city drifts by outside the window as they drive, lights stretching into long, blurred lines against the glass, neon signs flickering in passing reflections that don’t quite settle. They’re still on the same avenue where the restaurant was, the wide street glowing with late-night movement, cars passing in steady lines, storefront lights spilling onto the pavement like the night hasn’t fully decided to slow down yet.

The streets grow quieter the further they go, the movement thinning out until it’s just the low hum of the engine and the distant echo of the night. Chuuya rests his head lightly against the window. 

“Being mysterious really suits you,” he says.

“It’s very me, yeah.”

Dazai doesn’t look at him when he says it.

The car had barely pulled away from the restaurant avenue when Dazai was already reaching out, resting his right hand on Chuuya’s thigh, giving it a light squeeze over the fabric of his pants.

“You’ve been killing me since you walked out of that building, you know that?” Dazai murmurs, his voice low and rough. His fingers move slowly upward, tracing along the inner seam of his thigh. 

Chuuya feels a shiver run up his spine. He tries to keep his composure, but his breathing has already gone a little shallow.

“Eyes on the road and drive, idiot,” he mutters, even as his leg parts slightly on instinct.

Dazai lets out a low chuckle but doesn’t obey. Instead, his hand moves higher, deliberately brushing over the bulge already starting to form in Chuuya’s pants.

“How am I supposed to focus on the road when you look like this… all dressed up for me?” He presses his palm against Chuuya’s half-hard cock, rubbing slowly. “That chain around your waist… that cropped top riding up… fuck, Chuuya. You did this on purpose to drive me crazy, didn’t you?”

Chuuya feels a flicker of pride in that moment, along with a pleasant ache low in his abdomen. He already knew that Dazai liked his look tonight after all the compliments earlier, but hearing him say it like that… so… turned on? Chuuya feels like he might just lose it.

Chuuya bites down on his lower lip, trying to hold back a moan as Dazai undoes the button of his pants with one hand, the zipper sliding down right after. The cold air from the AC hits the warm skin of his exposed stomach.

“D-Dazai… someone might see…” 

“Tinted windows, love. And I can’t wait any longer,” Dazai replies, slipping his hand inside Chuuya’s underwear. His long fingers wrap around Chuuya’s cock, already half-hard and leaking, giving a slow squeeze at the base before starting to pump him gently.

Chuuya throws his head back against the seat, a needy moan slipping past his lips. His hips move on their own, chasing more friction.

“Look at you, already so wet…” Dazai whispers, his thumb spreading the pre-cum over the sensitive tip as he picks up the pace of his hand. “Got all dressed up for me and now you’re dripping all over my hand in the car. Such a needy little thing when you want it…”

“Sh-shut up—” Chuuya tries to protest, but it comes out more like a whine. He grabs Dazai’s wrist, not really trying to stop him.

Dazai turns his head for a second, dark eyes gleaming with desire — and something deeper.

“Fuck it,” Dazai growls under his breath. Without warning, he signals and pulls the car over abruptly onto a darker, quieter side street, away from the main flow. The engine falls silent, leaving only the heavy sound of their breathing filling the tight space.

“Get over here, now,” he orders, voice rough, already tugging Chuuya closer by the waist with urgency.

Chuuya is dragged onto his lap, straddling his thighs with his legs spread wide. The seat is pushed almost all the way back. Dazai yanks his cropped top up roughly, exposing his chest and slim stomach, the silver chain swaying against his pale skin.

“Fuck, Chuuya… you look ridiculously hot,” Dazai groans, his hands gripping his narrow waist possessively. “Did all this for me and now you’re gonna grind on my cock like a desperate little slut, aren’t you?”

Oh my god… Dazai usually doesn’t talk to him like that, using degrading words in bed. He’s softer — even back when they were teenagers, he would go gentle when it came to fucking Chuuya, even if what they were doing was rough. But that doesn’t mean Chuuya didn’t like it. When it happens, it makes him feel nervous… and excited. 

Dazai quickly opens his own pants and pulls Chuuya’s down along with his underwear to his thighs, freeing both of their hard cocks. Without any gentleness, he grabs Chuuya’s ass with both hands and pulls him hard against himself, making their cocks collide and rub together with rough force.

Chuuya lets out a high, sharp moan as Dazai starts thrusting his hips upward in short, rough movements, grinding their cocks together in an already intense rhythm.

“Ride me, fuck,” Dazai orders, his voice deep and commanding. “I wanna feel that pretty ass grinding against me. Harder.”

Chuuya obeys, moving eagerly, his hips rolling fast up and down, pressing his cock against Dazai’s with force. The friction is hot, slick, and almost violent. Their pre-cum keeps leaking, making the glide obscene and noisy.

“Just like that… yeah, fuck… look how you’re soaking everything,” Dazai groans, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure. He grips Chuuya’s ass tightly, guiding him to grind deeper and faster. “Feel how my cock is throbbing for you? All this time I’ve been hard just imagining you riding me like this.”

Chuuya buries his face in Dazai’s neck, moaning loudly, broken, his whole body moving with desperation. The car is visibly rocking now with the intensity of their movements.
“Samu— ahh! Harder… please…” he whines, his voice needy.

“Harder?” Dazai lets out a low laugh, almost cruel with arousal. He grips Chuuya’s waist firmly and starts thrusting up harder, grinding their cocks together in a brutal rhythm. “Look at you… all dressed up, eyeliner smudged, that chain swinging on your waist while you ride me like a little slut in my lap. You love being used like this, don’t you?”

He bites down on Chuuya’s shoulder, then moves up to his neck, sucking at the skin with intent.

“Move faster. I wanna feel you coming just from grinding on my cock. Go on, Chuuya. Grind for me.”

One of Dazai’s hands loosened its grip on Chuuya’s body and wrapped firmly around both their cocks, increasing the friction and pulling a long, drawn-out moan from them both. 

Chuuya is trembling now, his hips moving faster and more erratic, the friction becoming unbearable. His moans come out almost like broken sobs of pleasure.

“Osamu… I’m gonna— I’m so close—!”

“Then come, fuck. Come for me now,” Dazai growls, squeezing his ass tighter, guiding the frantic movements. “I wanna feel you coming hot on me, you pretty little thing.”

With a muffled cry against Dazai’s neck, Chuuya comes hard, thick, hot spurts spilling between them, streaking across Dazai’s stomach, his own skin and Dazai's hand. His body convulses violently as he keeps grinding, dragging the orgasm out.

Dazai lets out a rough moan, holding Chuuya in place as he gives a few more short, brutal thrusts of his hips before coming right after with a deep groan, mixing their releases between their sweaty stomachs.

They stay pressed together, breathless, the air inside the car heavy and thick with the scent of sex.

Dazai kisses his neck more slowly now, still breathing hard, and murmurs against his skin:

“Delicious… But that was just to whet my appetite.” He squeezes Chuuya’s waist possessively. “When we get home, I’m gonna fuck you until you forget your own name, love.”

Chuuya, still limp and trembling in his lap, lets out a weak, needy little laugh:

“You… insatiable bastard…”

Dazai smiles, nibbling at his chin.

“And you love every second of it.”

For a moment, neither of them moves.

Chuuya stays there for a few seconds, breathless against him, forehead pressed to Dazai’s shoulder.

“…We’re disgusting,” he mutters.

Dazai lets out a soft, shameless laugh, still holding him close. “Speak for yourself. I think we’re very romantic.”

Chuuya lifts his head just enough to glare at him. “Romantic? In a car?”

“A very expensive car,” Dazai corrects, as if that makes it better.

The air inside the car feels heavier now, warmer, filled with the slow rhythm of their breathing trying to settle back into something normal — something that makes sense after what just happened. Chuuya stays where he is, half sprawled across Dazai’s lap, his body still loose, still sensitive, the aftermath of it all clinging to him in a way he doesn’t quite want to shake off yet. It would be easy to stay like this. 

But Dazai moves first. He always does.

His hands linger for just a second longer at Chuuya’s waist before pulling away, slower this time, like he’s forcing himself to let go, to put distance where it wasn’t supposed to exist.

“Fix yourself up, pretty,” Dazai murmurs, voice quieter now, rough around the edges in a different way, already reaching to adjust his own clothes.

He doesn’t look at Dazai while he fixes himself — tugging his shirt back down, adjusting the chain at his waist, wiping at his skin with the back of his hand in a way that’s quick, almost careless, like he doesn’t want to think about it too much. 

There’s a quiet stretch after that, filled only with the sound of fabric shifting, zippers, the low exhale of breaths trying to settle. Chuuya leans back into his seat again, this time properly, shoulders against the leather, eyes drifting to the window even though all he can see is his own reflection staring back at him. 

Dazai adjusts his grip on the wheel, fingers tapping once against it before stilling, and then the engine comes back to life, the low hum filling the space between them again. The car starts moving.

A song starts playing softly through the speakers, too sweet and too slow for the silence inside the car.

Chuuya frowns almost immediately. “What is this?”

“Music,” Dazai answers.

“Bad music?”

Dazai gasps, offended. “Chuuya.”

“What? It sounds like something they’d play in an elevator for rich people.”

“That’s called class.”

“That’s called boring.”

Dazai reaches for the volume and turns it up just a little.

Chuuya turns his head slowly. “Don’t.”

“I thought you liked expensive things.”

“I like wine and hats. Not whatever the hell this is.”

Dazai laughs under his breath. “You’re so cruel after sex.”

“I’m cruel all the time. Keep up.” 

The engine hums low beneath them,  Chuuya keeps his eyes on the window, but the reflection staring back at him feels different now — softer around the edges, a little dazed, a little too aware of everything that just happened. The city moves past in blurred streaks of light, neon and glass stretching across the dark, but he’s not really looking at it.

The streets grow quieter the further they go, the movement thinning out until it’s just the low hum of the engine and the distant echo of the night wrapping around them. No more passing voices, no more crowded sidewalks — just empty stretches of road and the occasional flicker of streetlights cutting through the darkness.

Dazai turns once. Then again.

The car slows.

And then—

The engine cuts off, leaving nothing but the faint sound of wind brushing past the buildings.

“Yokohama rooftop?”

Chuuya goes still for a second.

It’s not his first time there— but it’s the first time it isn’t for a mission.

“Do you like it?” Dazai asks, glancing at him. “It’s technically closed, but… let’s just say I know someone who knows someone.”

“Dazai, you little— what the fuck? How?”

“Secret~~”

He slips out of the car with an ease that feels almost practiced, the night air catching lightly in his jacket as he straightens. Chuuya watches him through the window, still a little dazed, still half-lost in the warmth of the last few moments. Dazai rounds the front of the car without hurry, polished shoes quiet against the pavement, and stops at Chuuya’s side.

A second later, he pulls the door open.

“C’mon, honey,” he says softly, one hand resting on the top of the door, the other offered out to him like this is the most natural thing in the world.

Chuuya lifts his eyes to Dazai’s face. “What?” he mutters, already feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. “You think you’re charming or something?”

Dazai smiles, small and unbearably pleased with himself. “I know I am.”

“Idiot.”

Even so, Chuuya places his hand in Dazai’s.

Dazai’s fingers close around his with an easy sort of confidence, steady and warm, guiding him out of the car. As soon as Chuuya steps onto the pavement, Dazai’s gaze flicks over him—quick, but not quick enough to hide the way it lingers for a second on his face, his clothes, the chain at his waist, like he still hasn’t gotten over the sight of him.

“You clean up nicely,” Dazai murmurs.

Chuuya clicks his tongue, though there’s no real bite in it. “Shut up.”

Dazai only hums, letting the door fall shut behind him with a soft sound before stepping closer, enough that Chuuya can feel the warmth of him in the cool night air.

“After you,” Dazai says, tilting his head toward the entrance. “C’mon, baby. There’s something up there I want to show you.”

His fingers tighten slightly around Chuuya’s hand as they walk toward their destination. The lights are low, and there’s no one else around. It feels like the place exists just for them.They step into a panoramic elevator in the main hall, and Dazai doesn’t waste a second before entering a password on the panel.

The doors close and the city begins to fall away beneath them.

“Sex in an elevator is something we haven’t tried yet,” Dazai says out of nowhere.

“Oh my god, can you shut up— honestly—”

“But Chuuya~~ it would be so scandalous. We should try it~~”

Chuuya shoots him a look that shuts him up immediately.

“Right, right. No elevator sex,” Dazai says, lifting his hands slightly in surrender.

A pause.

“…today,” he adds under his breath a second later.

When they finally reach the top, Chuuya has to close his eyes for a moment, the stars feel so close, close enough that he has to stop himself from lifting his arm, from trying to reach for them like he could actually touch them. The city looks small in comparison, so far away, he feels stupid for thinking that, it must be because right now his whole night is being blessed with a romantic feeling everywhere he looks.

Like a dream, he thinks. Just like a dream.

He feels a pair of arms circle his waist, Dazai’s head resting against his shoulder. “Sex on a rooftop would be nice too, you know~~”

An ugly sensation pulls him out of his bubble, Dazai brought him up here for that? Of course it’s not something unexpected, the whole “something to show you” being sex in a place like this actually makes a lot of sense, besides, it’s not like Chuuya was expecting anything beyond that anyway.

As he’s about to turn and flirt back, Dazai says, “not today too~~”

Dazai takes a step back and Chuuya misses his embrace in the same moment, the absence immediate, almost cold, leaving him standing there for a second longer than he should, like his body hasn’t caught up yet.

Dazai walks a few steps ahead, slow, deliberate, before stopping with his back turned to him, the city stretching out in front of him, lights flickering far below.

“You know, Chuuya… this is probably one of my favorite places in the city.”

He pauses.

“Everything feels different here. Inverted, somehow.”

His hand moves to the pocket of his jacket.

“It’s a beautiful place. For so long, I didn’t even think I deserved to be here.”

“But… you are. Deserving of so much.”

Dazai turns, looking at Chuuya now.

“I have something. I’ve had it for a while now.”

A small pause.

“But it’s yours… if you want it.”

Chuuya keeps looking at Dazai, confused, not even trying to hide it. Because no—Dazai doesn’t have anything that’s Chuuya’s. Is it a metaphor?

Well… he has Chuuya’s love. His trust.

Maybe that’s what this is about.

Dazai ending things, asking him not to put so much of himself into it. Or maybe it’s something stupid—something small Dazai stole years ago and decided to return now.

Fuck. This is confusing.

“I don’t want it,” he says.

Dazai goes still. Like he’s just been punched in the gut.

“Whatever you have of mine… it’s yours. You can keep it, alright?”

A breath.

“I didn’t ask for anything back.”

“Oh, Chuuya… my sweet Chuuya, baby, that’s—”

“I’m being serious right now, Dazai. I learned your way. I learned it slowly.” A breath. “Take another shot, but you’ll miss me.”

Dazai sighs, he should’ve expected this, Chuuya is always waiting for him to do something wrong. He wonders if someday… they’ll get past this.

“I bet you’ll look beautiful with what I have,” he says softly. “You really don’t want to see it?”

“Huh?”

Dazai moves before Chuuya can process it, dropping to his knees in front of him, he looks up, eyes full of something raw, something almost unfamiliar. “I’ve never done this before.”

A pause.

“But I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” His hands are trembling now. “I want to keep you with me… for the rest of my days.” His hand finds its way into his jacket, pulling out the small box, and he opens it.

“Chuuya…” A softer tone now. “Will you wear this ring?” A breath. “My ring. On your finger.” Forever, he didn’t say that last word.

Chuuya doesn’t answer immediately. He just stares. Then he takes a step back — and another. He doesn’t even look at the ring. 

Dazai’s expression starts to sour as the distance between them grows.

“You’re joking, right?” A small laugh slips out, disbelieving. “This isn’t funny, Dazai.”

“Eh— figured you’d say that.” He lets out a soft breath, almost a laugh. “I guess I’m not very convincing, huh?”

“You do—” Chuuya cuts himself off, jaw tightening. “Look, you don’t do shit like that. We’re not like this. This isn’t normal.”

His voice starts to rise, anger slipping through before he can stop it.

“What— is this your way of finally driving me insane? That’s it? You wanna see me lose it all?”

He lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head.

He’s not doing this. He’s not capable of this. This is just another one of his tricks.

“This is your final way of sending me straight to a fucking psych ward, isn’t it?”

“A compromise ring?” A loud laugh. “For what? A collar isn’t enough anymore to stick your claim on me?”

He doesn’t keep things. He marks them—until he gets bored enough to break them. And somehow, it’s always me.

“I’m leaving.” His voice comes out sharp, rough around the edges. “I’m not staying here for this.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot, Dazai. Fuck you.” a single tear falls. “You don’t get to do this now.”

“…I bought it years ago.” Dazai’s voice is quieter now. “I-I'm sorry. For everything.”

Dazai stands up, but doesn't make a move to go after Chuuya, deciding to respect his space. “You have every right to be mad at me, today, tomorrow, every day… I can live with that, but I can’t leave without you, not again. I— I'm not trying to claim you again, you’ve never not been mine to begin with, but now I want things to be right, in a common sense way.”

Look at this idiotic fool you’ve made me, Chuuya thinks.

“Why?” Chuuya looks directly into Dazai’s eyes. “Why now? Why? Please— just… why?”

Dazai’s face crumples for half a second before he catches it, but it’s too late — Chuuya sees it. The panic. The ugly, naked fear underneath all that careful softness. His hand is still holding the ring box, but his fingers have gone white around it, like he’s afraid that if he loosens his grip, everything will disappear. “Because I don’t know how else to make you believe me,” he says, and his voice breaks on the last word, small and humiliating. “Because I can say it a thousand times and it still won’t be enough, will it? I can stay, I can kneel, I can put my heart in your hands and you’ll still be waiting for the part where I turn it into a joke.” 

“And.. It’s not a ‘now,’ Chuuya…” A small pause. “It’s always been.” His voice softens, quieter. “I’ve never had anyone— and I never will.” Another breath. “For me… it’s always you.”

Chuuya doesn’t reply, fat tears streaming down his face, only looking at Dazai.

Dazai lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, except there’s nothing funny in it. Nothing composed. Nothing Dazai at all. “So tell me what to do,” he says, quieter now, desperate enough that the words almost scrape their way out of him. “Tell me how to prove it and I’ll do it. I’ll beg if that’s what you need. I’ll stay on my knees. I’ll let you hate me for as long as you want, just—” His throat works around the words, his eyes fixed on Chuuya like looking away would kill him. “Don’t walk away thinking this is another trick. Please. Not this time.”

The silence stretches a little longer, making Dazai nauseous with the sick feeling that he has been punched in the gut. 

“I thought staying away from you would keep both of us safe.” Dazai has never been so sincere as he is at this moment. “I’m not saying it was right. But it was what I could do. I’m sorry.”

“No more keeping score— not from me. I just want to love you in peace,” he finishes.

Forever, forever— I’ve never wanted to spend much time on this earth, but a lifetime with you suddenly doesn’t sound like enough. 

“…You’re such a fucking pain.”

And then he collapses to the floor, knees hitting the ground with force as the tears fall harder.

Dazai moves for the first time, stepping closer to the boy on the floor, kneeling in front of him again.

He reaches out— but stops himself.

“Can I hold you, Chuuya?”

No response.

“Nod your head if I can, baby. You don’t have to speak.”

Chuuya nods his head slightly, and Dazai wraps his arms around him, pulling him close.

They stay like that for longer than either of them intends. The night air grows colder, quieter.

Chuuya shifts slightly, still close— not pulling away.

“…It’s freezing,” he mutters.

Dazai hums softly. “…Then let’s go somewhere warmer.”

Chuuya doesn’t answer right away.

He only nods once, small and barely there, because speaking still feels like too much. Like if he opens his mouth again, everything he has been trying to hold down will spill out with it — all the fear, all the anger, all the years spent pretending Dazai’s absence didn’t carve something ugly and permanent into him.

They break the embrace and get to their feet. Before leaving, Chuuya mutters, “Give me that shit.”

Dazai stops in his tracks. Everything feels like a blur, his heart beating unevenly in his chest.

“You— are you— Chuu—”

“Just give it to me, you shitty idiot.”

Dazai doesn’t hesitate to hand him the box— but stops just before Chuuya can take it.

“Can I— can I put it on you?”

A pause.

“Yes.”

Dazai’s hands are unsteady as he slides the ring onto Chuuya’s finger, careful— almost reverent.

“…We’ll get you one too. That’s not negotiable.”

“Please— yeah, tomorrow. I promise.” Dazai lets out a quiet breath. This moment feels unreal.

They walk side by side toward the elevator in silence, the tension from earlier still lingering but softer now, Chuuya’s hand brushing against Dazai’s once before he lets their fingers intertwine without comment, when they reach the elevator Dazai presses the button with his free hand, neither of them looking at each other, neither of them letting go. 

At Dazai’s apartment, they don’t waste any time before reaching his bedroom, their upper garment discarded along the way, scattered across the floor. The fire between them almost burns, but if they were to pull apart now they might just freeze instead.

“I need you to tell me you understand what happened earlier, sweetheart.”

Dazai grabs Chuuya’s jaw, breaking the kiss and locking their eyes.

“You’re mine now, and I’m yours. There’s no turning back.”

“You said that yourself, didn’t you, you idiot?”

Dazai looks confused for a second.

“I’ve always been yours, and you’ve always been mine.”

With something that sounds like a groan, Dazai meets Chuuya’s lips with intense roughness, claiming everything and not leaving space for either of them to breathe. He moves his hands down to Chuuya’s bare waist, adorned only with the silver chain, and squeezes with a certain possessive touch. 

Chuuya exhales sharply against his mouth, fingers curling into Dazai shoulders. 

The kiss moves with an intensity that almost hurts, but it’s the kind of pain that feels good — the kind that reminds them this is real. That they’re not going to run from each other anymore. Dazai’s tongue slips in slowly, possessive, as if trying to memorize the taste of Chuuya forever. His strong hands grip his slim waist, firm and claiming, in a way that neither of them will be able to forget. 

“You’re mine now,” Dazai murmurs against his lips, his voice rough, almost reverent. “For real. No more games. No more fear.” 

Chuuya lets out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into Dazai’s shoulders as if he needs something to hold onto to keep from falling. “Shut up and show me then, you idiot…”

Dazai smiles against his lips — that soft smile only Chuuya gets to see these days — and gently pushes him back onto the bed. When Chuuya’s back hits the mattress, Dazai pulls away just enough to look at him. Dark brown eyes sweep over the redhead’s body: his bare torso, his pants already half undone, the chain glinting against his pale skin, the blush still staining his cheeks, his eyeliner slightly smudged. He looks beautiful. Absurdly beautiful. 

“Let me take care of you tonight,” Dazai asks softly, his voice low. “Let me love you the way you deserve.” 

In one swift motion, Dazai pulls off his dress shirt, then his pants, and finally his black boxer briefs. Left completely naked, his cock stands hard between his legs, already leaking with desire for the man beneath him. 

Chuuya swallows hard, his chest rising and falling quickly. He nods, small and almost shy, and something in Dazai’s chest tightens at the sight. 

Dazai sits down on the bed and easily pulls Chuuya into his lap, guiding the redhead to straddle his thighs. Unhurried, he lets his hands roam over Chuuya’s body, stopping beneath his nipples to pinch them gently. Then he finishes pulling Chuuya’s pants and underwear down until they’re caught halfway around his thighs, leaving him exposed except for the silver chain still glinting around his slim waist.

Dazai takes Chuuya’s right hand in his and slowly guides it down to his cock, wrapping the redhead’s fingers around his own erection.

“Here, baby… like this,” he murmurs against his ear, his voice low and rough. “I want to watch you touch yourself for me while you sit on my lap.”

“Just look at how hard you are for me…” Dazai whispers against his neck, his voice low and warm. “Already so wet… got all dressed up for me, and now you’re like this in my lap.”

He lightly squeezes Chuuya’s hand, encouraging the first slow movement up and down.

“That’s it… nice and slow at first. Feel how you’re pulsing? All wet just from sitting on my lap… filthy thing.”

Chuuya lets out a soft, needy moan, his hips moving instinctively against their hands. The redhead buries his face in Dazai’s shoulder, breathing heavily.

“Osamu… stop saying things like that… it’s embarrassing…” 

“Embarrassing? No. It’s perfect,” Dazai replies, keeping his own hand over Chuuya’s, controlling the rhythm. 

 “You get so needy in my lap… I love that. I love you.” 

Everything stops for Chuuya, like he’s been hit by a truck at full speed. Tears start falling from his eyes almost immediately. Love is such a funny word, and an even stranger thing to feel. Chuuya has spent the past few years loving someone who was always out of his reach, and now he swears he just heard Dazai say that he loves him. 

“Samu… I love you. I love you.”

“No need to cry, baby. It’s okay… I love you.”

Dazai starts trailing kisses down his neck, lightly sucking at the sensitive skin just below his ear, right where he knows Chuuya shivers. He moves lower, his tongue tracing along his collarbone, teeth brushing over his nipple.

Meanwhile, he doesn’t stop guiding Chuuya’s hand, sometimes squeezing his fingers harder, other times making the movement slower and more torturous.

“Don’t stop, Chuuya… keep touching yourself for me. I want to feel you trembling in my lap while I tell you how much I love you.”

With his mind still far away, Chuuya thinks about all the times he changed himself to make Dazai love him. All the faces he wore, all the time he spent wondering and mapping out every possible path with Dazai, trying to find one where things could go right. But right now, hearing Dazai say it, his heart feels like it’s about to explode. 

Fighting back a moan with Dazai’s hands and mouth all over him, Chuuya says “C-can you say it again?”

“Say what?” Dazai hums lightly, tilting his head, like he already knows.

“That you love me.” 

“Look at you…” Dazai whispers, alternating between kissing one nipple and the other. “All dressed up for me today. You almost killed me when I saw you walking out of the building. I love you, Chuuya, I love you. With you by my side, I want to keep living in this world every single day.”

"S-Samu" Chuuya moans. 

“See? Keep going like that… faster now. I want to see that pretty cock dripping in your hand while you listen to how much I love you.” 

Chuuya lets out a low moan, his hips shifting restlessly. “You… you really liked it?”

“What, babydoll?” Dazai groans.

“M-my looks— d-did you really like it?”

“Fuck, baby. So much. So fucking much.”

“Did it for you,” Chuuya breathes. “For you. All for you, p-please.”

“I almost dragged you back to the apartment right then and there.” Dazai lifts his gaze, serious for a moment. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life, Chuuya. And today… you dressed up for me. For us.”

The words hit Chuuya all at once. He feels his eyes burn again, but this time it isn’t anger or fear — it’s something warm and overwhelmingly good.

“I love you, I love you,” Dazai murmurs endlessly between kisses. “I want to drown in you for the rest of my days, Chuuya.” Dazai looks up. “I’m never going to lose you again.”

“Go on, baby… touch yourself harder for me. I want to feel you coming in my lap while I tell you that I love you.”

Chuuya’s breath hitches, a broken whimper escaping his lips as he obeys. His hand moves faster under Dazai’s guidance, slick sounds filling the room along with his heavy breathing. Every stroke sends sparks up his spine, made even more intense by the way Dazai keeps whispering against his skin.

“That’s it… just like that, gorgeous. Look at you, all desperate in my lap, jerking yourself off for me like a good boy,” Dazai murmurs, his voice dark and sweet at the same time. His free hand slides up Chuuya’s back, then grips the back of his neck possessively, keeping him close. “You get so wet when I tell you I love you, don’t you? Feel how it’s dripping down your hand?” 

Tears are still slipping down Chuuya’s flushed cheeks, but now they mix with pure pleasure. He nods weakly against Dazai’s shoulder, unable to form proper words.

“Samu… hah… I-I’m close…”

“I know, baby. I can feel you pulsing in your own hand,” Dazai says, pressing a slow kiss just below his ear. “Don’t hold back. I want you to come for me. Come while I tell you how much I love you.” 

Dazai’s voice drops even lower, almost a growl:

“I love you, Chuuya. I fucking love you. You’re everything to me. Come on… let me watch you fall apart in my lap just because I love you.” 

That’s all it takes.

Chuuya’s whole body tenses, a sharp cry tearing from his throat as pleasure crashes over him. His hips jerk uncontrollably, thighs trembling around Dazai’s as he comes hard, painting his own stomach and Dazai’s stomach with thick, white streaks. The orgasm seems to last forever, intensified by Dazai’s hand still guiding his, never letting him slow down.

“That’s it, just like that… come for me, my love. What a beautiful sight…” Dazai praises softly, kissing the tears from Chuuya’s cheeks while he rides out the aftershocks. 

When the intensity finally starts to fade, Chuuya collapses against Dazai’s chest, breathing ragged, body limp and trembling. Dazai wraps both arms around him, holding him tight, one hand gently stroking his red hair.

“Shh… I’ve got you,” Dazai whispers tenderly, all the dirty talk melting into pure affection. “I love you. I love you so much, Chuuya.”

Dazai finishes pulling down the pants still caught around Chuuya’s thighs, taking his underwear with them and tossing everything onto the floor.

When Chuuya is left completely naked — only the chain at his waist still glinting — Dazai settles between his legs, his hands gripping his thighs firmly as he slowly spreads them apart. 

“Can I?” he asks, kissing the inside of his thigh. 

“Yes… please.”

Dazai doesn’t need anything more. He lowers his head, dragging a long, slow lick right down the center, from Chuuya’s entrance to the base of his cock. The redhead arches his back with a sharp moan, his hands flying into Dazai’s brown hair.

Dazai takes his time. His tongue flat, licking in slow, lazy circles around the tight entrance, feeling it clench and relax beneath his touch. He sucks lightly, presses soft kisses, uses the tip of his tongue to push in just a little, savoring every reaction — the way Chuuya tries to close his legs on instinct, the way his fingers tug at his hair, the broken little moans that slip from his lips.

“Relax for me, baby,” Dazai murmurs against the wet skin. “Let me open you up with my mouth.”

He pushes his tongue deeper, slow at first, then thrusting into Chuuya in short, deep strokes while his hand moves up to stroke his leaking cock in rhythm. Chuuya is trembling, his thighs tightening around Dazai’s shoulders, his voice coming out rough and broken:

“Osamu… ah— fuck… like that… so good…”

Dazai groans against him, the sound vibrating directly against his sensitive entrance. He keeps going for long minutes, his tongue working without rush — licking, sucking, opening Chuuya up until he’s wet, glistening, and pulsing around him.  While Dazai licks and sucks with devotion, Chuuya can’t hold back and one hand drifts down to his own cock, starting to touch himself slowly.

Dazai notices immediately. He grabs Chuuya’s wrist firmly, pulling his hand away and pinning it against the mattress.

“No,” Dazai says, his voice low and authoritative, but still gentle. “You’re not coming with your hand now. Only with my tongue. Got it, baby?” 

Chuuya lets out a soft, needy whine, his hips shifting restlessly.  “But… Osamu… please… it feels so good…”

“Shh. I know. But you’re going to come the way I want. Only from my mouth. Be good for me.”

Chuuya bites his lip, eyes glassy, but he obeys, bringing his hand back to the sheets. Only when Dazai feels Chuuya is properly slick and relaxed does he pull away, his lips swollen and shining.

“Come here,” Dazai says, his voice thick. He lies back in the middle of the bed and pulls Chuuya by the waist. “I want you to sit on my face.”

Chuuya hesitates for half a second, his cheeks burning. “You… are you sure?”

“I am.” Dazai smiles, pulling him further up. “I want to feel all of you. I want you to use my mouth.”

With trembling legs, Chuuya positions himself over Dazai’s face, his knees on either side of his head. Dazai grips his thighs firmly, guiding him down slowly until his wet entrance is right above his warm mouth.

The moment Chuuya truly sits, Dazai lets out a deep, rough groan and starts devouring him.

When I marry him, I’m going to have him riding my face every night, Dazai thinks. Actually… every hour of the day sounds possible.

His tongue fucks into him harder now, pushing in and out while his nose presses against his perineum. Chuuya lets out a muffled cry, his hands bracing against the headboard, his hips moving on instinct.

“Osamu—! Ahh… fuck… like that… just like that…”

Dazai doesn’t let up. He sucks at his entrance, his tongue circling inside, hands gripping Chuuya’s thighs to keep him in place as the redhead starts to roll his hips slowly against his face. The wet, obscene sounds fill the room — Dazai’s mouth working relentlessly, groaning against the sensitive skin, the warm breath of it making Chuuya’s whole body tremble.

Chuuya looks down. The sight is too much: Dazai with his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, his face completely soaked, his tongue disappearing inside him, those large hands gripping his waist like they’ll never let go. He looks happy. Truly happy to be there, beneath him, giving him pleasure like this. 

“You… you’re insane…” Chuuya moans, his voice strained. “Looking at me like that while… ahh—”

I should take a thousand pictures of you, but pictures are meant to remember — and this is never going to become just a memory, Dazai thinks. Instead, he answers by tightening his grip on Chuuya’s thighs and pushing his tongue as deep as he can, moving it inside him in a way that makes Chuuya see stars. The redhead starts moving faster, grinding down against Dazai’s face, using his mouth however he wants. Dazai takes all of it, letting out encouraging moans, his eyes never leaving Chuuya’s face. 

“You feel so good…” Dazai manages to murmur between one lick and the next, his voice muffled. “So tight… so mine…” 

Chuuya whimpers, the praise hitting him right in the chest. He leans forward slightly, shifting the angle, and Dazai takes the opportunity to suck harder, his tongue pressing exactly where Chuuya feels it the most. The redhead’s legs tremble violently, his orgasm building far too fast.

“I’m gonna— Osamu, I’m close—”

Dazai only tightens his grip on his thighs in response, holding him in place as he keeps devouring him. Chuuya comes with a muffled cry, his whole body convulsing, his entrance clenching rhythmically around Dazai’s tongue as he spills.

Even after the orgasm, Dazai keeps licking slowly, cleaning him with care until Chuuya grows too sensitive and tries to pull away.

“Come here,” Dazai pulls him down, kissing his mouth with the taste of Chuuya still on his tongue. The kiss is wet, slow, full of feeling. “You were perfect.” 

“Kiss me more, please?” Chuuya whines, his face flushed and his eyes a little puffy from all the crying earlier and the recent orgasm.

Dazai lets out a small smile. “Always so needy for kisses, aren’t you, baby?” He leans in again, kissing him with intensity, exploring every corner of the redhead’s mouth, squeezing his ass in the process, the cum on Chuuya’s abdomen spreading between them.

The kiss breaks, and Chuuya doesn’t waste a second. “Samu… can I— can I take care of you now?”

Chuuya is breathless, his face buried in Dazai’s neck, his body soft. “Please… please…”

He trails down Dazai’s body, kissing his chest, his stomach, until he reaches his hard, leaking cock. Dazai is painfully aroused, veins prominent, the head flushed and glistening. Chuuya licks from base to tip, slow, looking up through his lashes, his eyeliner still smudged. 

“Thank you… for not wearing your bandages today…” Chuuya murmurs.

“Chuuya…” Dazai sighs, his hand moving to the red hair, not pulling, just stroking.

Chuuya parts his lips and takes him in slowly, as far as he can. He doesn’t rush. He sucks him gently, his tongue swirling over the head, going down toward his throat and then back up again. His eyes never leave Dazai’s face — wanting to catch every reaction, every moan, every time Dazai bites his lip or throws his head back.

“Like that… fuck, that mouth of yours…” Dazai murmurs, his voice rough with pleasure. “Look at me while you suck me, love.”

Chuuya obeys, blue eyes watering slightly from the effort, but filled with something so intense it almost makes Dazai come just from the sight. He takes him deeper, relaxing his throat, swallowing him down until his nose brushes against his skin. Dazai moans loudly, his fingers tightening lightly in the red strands.

“You’re going to kill me like this… so pretty, sucking my cock…”

Chuuya moans around him, the vibration making Dazai curse under his breath. He keeps going for long minutes, alternating between deep, slow sucks and lazy licks, his hand working the base of what he can’t fit in his mouth. Dazai is breathless, his hips moving slightly, but never forcing it.

When he feels himself getting too close, Dazai gently pulls Chuuya back up.

“Come here. I want to be inside you now.”

“You know I like it when you come in my mouth…” Chuuya says, a little needy.

Dazai leans in and kisses his lips briefly. “The first one always has to be inside you, darling. After that, I’ll give it to you wherever you want.”

Chuuya climbs back up, still murmuring a few protests, but positioning himself on top of Dazai anyway. They kiss slowly as Dazai reaches for the lube — already left on the nightstand earlier — and lines himself up with Chuuya’s entrance, still wet and open from everything they’d done before.

“Slow,” Dazai whispers against his lips. “I want to feel every second.”

Chuuya lowers himself slowly, inch by inch, moaning into the kiss when Dazai finally fills him completely. They stay still for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air.

“I love you,” Dazai says softly, almost inaudible. “I fucking love you, Chuuya.”

Chuuya lets out a breath that comes out half sob, half moan as he starts to move. Slow at first, then deeper, rolling his hips in that way he knows drives Dazai crazy.

The penetration is intense, but not last much — they’re both already too close, overwhelmed by the weight of everything they’re feeling. Dazai grips Chuuya’s waist, guiding his movements, thrusting up in the rhythm the redhead sets. Their moans blend together, names murmured between wet kisses and broken breaths.

When Chuuya comes for the second time, clenching tight around him, Dazai pulls him down and comes inside him with a long, rough groan, holding him tightly against his chest.

They stay like that for long minutes, breathless, bodies pressed together and slick with sweat. Dazai is still buried deep inside Chuuya, pulsing faintly. Suddenly, he tilts his head and captures the redhead’s lips in an intense, deep, almost desperate kiss. His tongue pushes into Chuuya’s mouth with the same possessiveness as before, and Chuuya feels — with surprise — Dazai’s cock hardening again inside him.

“Osamu…?” Chuuya murmurs against his lips, eyes wide, his voice rough and needy.

Dazai smiles against his mouth — a smile both dark and soft at the same time — and starts thrusting slowly, still inside him.

“We’re not even halfway yet, baby,” he whispers, his voice low and full of promise. “I want you again. I want to love you all night.”

Chuuya lets out a surprised, needy moan, his still-sensitive body trembling with each slow thrust.

“You’re insatiable… ahh… you idiot…”

Dazai lets out a soft laugh, carefully turning them over and positioning Chuuya until the redhead is on all fours on the bed. He settles behind him, hands firm on his slim waist, and slides back in with a smooth, deep motion.

“That’s it… just like that… let me see you like this too,” Dazai murmurs, his voice rough with desire as he starts thrusting harder, one hand trailing down to stroke Chuuya’s back gently. “So beautiful… so mine… hold it for me, yeah?”

Chuuya buries his face in the pillows, moaning loudly, his body pushing back to meet Dazai’s thrusts. The sound of skin against skin fills the room again, mixed with the redhead’s soft, needy moans and Dazai’s low, reverent praise.

Dazai’s grip on Chuuya’s waist tightens, fingers digging into the soft skin as he pulls him back onto his cock with each thrust. The new angle makes him hit deeper, brushing against that spot inside Chuuya that makes his legs shake uncontrollably.

“Fuck… you’re sucking me in so greedily, baby,” Dazai groans, voice low and filthy. “Look at you, taking me so well on all fours… ass up just for me.”

He leans forward, chest pressing against Chuuya’s back, one arm wrapping around his waist while the other hand slides down to wrap around Chuuya’s neglected cock. He starts stroking him in time with his thrusts — slow and firm at first, then faster as Chuuya’s moans grow louder.

“O-Osamu —! Ahh… too much—” Chuuya cries out, voice muffled by the pillow, body trembling between the relentless thrusts and the tight strokes around his cock.

“Not too much,” Dazai whispers hotly against his ear, biting the lobe gently. “You can take it. You’re gonna cum for me again like this, yeah? Want to feel you squeezing my cock while I’m buried deep inside you.”

Dazai’s hips snap harder, the wet, obscene sound of his cock sliding in and out of Chuuya’s slick hole echoing louder. He keeps jerking him off with a perfect rhythm, thumb swiping over the sensitive head, spreading the precum that won’t stop leaking.

Chuuya’s arms start to give out. He drops down onto his elbows, ass still high in the air as Dazai fucks him deeper, harder, faster. His moans turn into broken whimpers, each thrust punching the air out of his lungs.

“Gonna— Dazai, I’m gonna cum— please—”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me. Let go,” Dazai growls, voice strained with his own pleasure. He angles his hips just right, hitting Chuuya’s prostate with every powerful thrust while his hand moves faster on his cock.

Chuuya cums with a loud, broken cry, his whole body seizing up as he spills over Dazai’s fingers and onto the sheets. His hole clenches rhythmically around Dazai’s cock, milking him hard.

The tight, pulsing heat is too much for Dazai. He buries himself to the hilt with a deep, guttural moan, hips stuttering as he fills Chuuya up again, hot and thick. He keeps moving through his orgasm, slow, lazy thrusts, making sure every drop stays inside.

They stay locked together like that for a few long moments, both panting heavily. Dazai gently kisses the back of Chuuya’s neck, still buried deep inside him, whispering softly:

“Good boy… so fucking perfect for me.”

Dazai pulls out of Chuuya with a loud groan, watching, almost entranced, as his cum slips from Chuuya’s hole, trailing down his thighs. He bends down and starts cleaning it up with his tongue, long licks along the back of his thighs, followed by a wet kiss pressed to the redhead’s hole.

“S-Samu, I—I can’t anymore, I need a few minutes,” Chuuya mumbles.

With a low laugh, the brunette presses one last kiss to one of his cheeks before pulling back, still admiring the sight in front of him. “Chuuya~~ I could spend the rest of my life there, if only you knew how good it feels,” he says, his tone teasing and warm.

“Shut up, you freak,” Chuuya mutters, turning over and lying on his back. Dazai doesn’t waste a second, lying down beside him and pulling him closer, shifting him so he becomes the smaller spoon as they settle into a tight embrace.

Much later, when they finally close to fall asleep, exhausted in each other’s arms, the brunette presses a tender kiss to the top of Chuuya’s red hair. “I’m not going anywhere,” Dazai murmurs. “Not ever again.”

Chuuya, his voice rough and tired, just replies, “You better not, you idiot… because I’m not going anywhere either.”

Chuuya keeps shooting glances at Dazai, seated in front of the kitchen counter, preparing their breakfast. It’s almost 11 a.m. already, but after a lazy bath and maybe— three rounds—they decided not to fight the hunger anymore.

This moment feels unreal, like a dream he’s praying not to wake up from. He never thought he would be here, that he would hear Dazai’s soft “I love you” or be wearing a ring that seals their commitment. Yet, it’s happening, right? This happiness is his.

Chuuya has a thought about this whole situation. One day, Dazai is going to leave again — everyone does, he concludes. No one is allowed to stay forever; that would go against the rules of the world. But when he does, Chuuya thinks, when he leaves this world… I’m going with him.

When the time comes, and there’s a world without Dazai in it, Chuuya won’t exist in that world either. 

“You’re staring,” Dazai says without turning around, voice light, but not careless.

Chuuya blinks, caught. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Maybe you’re just ugly enough to be distracting.”

Dazai laughs softly, and the sound settles in the kitchen like sunlight as he sets a plate in front of him. 

Chuuya looks at the ring on his finger again. 

“You’re thinking too hard,” Dazai says, sliding into the chair across from him.

Chuuya looks up. “Shut up.”

Dazai smiles, unbothered, then reaches across the counter and taps lightly against the ring on Chuuya’s finger.

“Besides,” he says, softer now, but still with that insufferable tilt to his voice. “Today we’re going to buy one for me too.”

Chuuya freezes.

Dazai’s smile widens. “What? You didn’t think I’d let you wear mine all by yourself, did you?”

Dazai’s hand finds Chuuya’s in the process.

Wow, Chuuya thinks.

There is so much he still wants to know, so much he still wants to ask. But he has a feeling Dazai will be here to answer every single one of them, every day.

Just to confirm it—

“When did you buy this ring?”

Dazai looks at him. “We were sixteen.”

“You bought a ring one year after meeting me?”

“And three weeks after we started hooking up, yes.”

“And you kept it all these years?” Chuuya asks, speechless, moving on automatic.

Dazai tilts his head, smiling like he’s enjoying every second of Chuuya’s crisis.

“What? Was I supposed to throw away a perfectly good ring just because the person I bought it for was an insufferable slug?”

Chuuya stares at him.

“Dazai.”

The smile stays, but something underneath it softens.

“I’m a sentimental man, Chuuya.”

“You’re not.”

Dazai looks at him for a moment. Then, quieter:

“Not with most things.”

“Fuck,” Chuuya says.

Dazai smiles. “That bad?”

Chuuya looks at their hands.

“No,” he says. “That good.”