Indecipherable
My feelings for you
My chest aches like
Never before
Never again
Can't let it free
The bird locked inside
This chest of mine
Get it out
Get it out
I don't want it anymore
Chuuya grips the sticky note tightly with sweaty fingers. This is… He certainly hadn't been expecting it. He'd opened his textbook to study and it had been there, under the cover, mocking him. Did Dazai write it? Chuuya's heart pounds. It can't be. Why on earth would Dazai do something like that? It's been a few days since their trip to the arcade. Maybe someone had slipped it into his textbook during class. Yeah. That's more believable.
"Why don't you just ask him?" Shirase asks, through a mouthful of food. Chuuya's face heats.
"I can't do that." He hisses. "If it wasn't him, I'd be humiliated. And don't talk with your mouth full. It's gross. Are you a pig?"
Shirase frowns at him, but makes sure to swallow before he speaks again.
"You'll never know unless you ask." He says. Chuuya hates that he's right. He ends up asking Dazai if they can meet up. He'd rather this conversation be in person, so that if it is Dazai, he can let him down gently.
But when he sees Dazai, that thought goes right out the window. Dazai looks stunning, in a pine green turtleneck under a red and black argyle print sweater. Black slacks are cinched around his waist with a dark brown belt. His waist is really thin. Chuuya gulps quietly, strangely affected by the sight. There's a bronze choker with a heart locket hanging lax around the base of his throat, over the turtleneck. His hair is tucked behind one ear, and there are a few rings on his fingers.
He must notice Chuuya staring, because he blinks owlishly at him, eyes big and curious.
"What?" Dazai asks.
"You look like a Christmas tree." Chuuya blurts, and then claps a hand over his mouth, mortified. Dazai frowns and looks down at himself, his hands clenching into fists before his fingers uncurl and he relaxes.
"You don't like it?" He pouts. "Yosano helped me pick it out."
Chuuya's mouth is very, very dry.
"It's a bit feminine for your tastes, right?" He finds himself asking. They're taking up space in front of the cafe door. Dazai frowns thoughtfully, and he tilts his head in question.
"Aren't you into breaking gender roles?" Dazai crosses his arms over his chest. "You said that at the party, right?"
"Well, yeah," Chuuya sputters. "I just didn't think you'd be into that, too."
"I told you I'd be fine if you put me in a skirt." Dazai points out. "I was serious about that."
"I didn't think you meant it." Chuuya feels very, very stupid. How had he not thought this through? If he can't handle Dazai like this, how could he ever put him in a skirt?
"Well, I did." Dazai says. "Is that not what we're meeting for? You said not to bring my books."
"Oh." Chuuya feels a bit startled. He reaches into his pocket, feeling around for the sticky note. "About that. Maybe we should sit down."
Dazai frowns, looking puzzled.
"Okay," He agrees. "Do you want anything to drink?"
"Just a water." Chuuya says, but it comes out hoarse and croaky. He's still not over the way the sweater clings to Dazai's chest like a second skin. It's not like he's got muscles, or anything. He's actually kind of skinny. It's the thought of what's underneath that's really getting to him, and he hates it.
Dazai nods and holds the door open for Chuuya to walk inside, the spitting image of a perfect gentleman. If only he was like this all the time.
"What, no insults?" Chuuya asks. Dazai looks him over, like he's trying his best to get a read on him. The calculating look in his eye makes Chuuya shiver.
"This doesn't seem to be the right time for that." Is what Dazai says, leaving Chuuya stunned. "I'm gonna order. Find us a seat, okay?"
Chuuya obeys without a second thought, as if in a haze, still in shock from how serious Dazai is. Does that mean…? It can't. Dazai couldn't have written the note, right? He finds a table in the back of the cafe and takes a seat. Dazai joins him a moment later, holding a cup of water, as well as what Chuuya assumes to be his regular order of a black coffee. Dazai sets both the drinks on the table and takes a seat. He watches carefully as Chuuya takes a gulp of the water.
Alright. It's now or never. Chuuya pulls the note out of his pocket and sets it on the table. His pulse pounds in his ears.
"Did you write this?" He demands. Dazai blinks, leaning forward to peer at the note. Then he looks up at Chuuya, his face a picturesque expression of innocence.
"This is the first time I'm seeing it," Dazai says. "So, no."
Chuuya should be relieved. He should be ecstatic. Instead, he's just… disappointed? He searches Dazai's face desperately for any sign that he's lying. He doesn't find one.
"Why?" Dazai asks. His lips turn up into a sly smile. "Did Chuuya want it to be from me?"
Chuuya feels his cheeks grow hot.
"Don't be stupid!" He sputters. "I just wanted to cover all of my bases."
"I'll let you cover all of my bases." Dazai says, still smirking. Chuuya kicks him under the table, and he winces.
"I thought you said now wasn't the time for jokes!" Chuuya whispers heatedly. Dazai shrugs. A piece of his hair falls back into his face, and Chuuya finds himself aching to tuck it behind his ear again. The thought leaves him reeling, bewildered.
"I said it wasn't the time for insults." Dazai says. "Besides, who said I was joking?"
Chuuya gapes for a moment before he's able to recover.
"I can't ever take you seriously." He declares. Dazai's smile twitches a bit at the edges. Chuuya has no idea what that's supposed to mean.
"Now that that's out of the way," Dazai mumbles, his smirk giving way to a shy, almost demure expression. "Are you ever gonna let me model your clothes?"
Chuuya blinks at him, surprised.
"You're really serious about that?" He asks, and Dazai nods, frowning.
"Yeah," He says, like it's obvious. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't have offered."
Oh.
"Okay," Chuuya says, helplessly. "I already have some things sketched out. I'll need you to come over for measurements, though. Is that okay?"
Dazai tilts his head.
"Why wouldn't it be?" He asks.
"You'd have to take off your bandages," Chuuya warns. "It'll be more accurate that way."
Dazai smiles again, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"I told you already, right?" His eyes are blank and hollow. "All that stuff doesn't matter to me anymore.
"Right." Chuuya says dumbly. "Well, you can come over now, if you want."
He expects Dazai to decline, to say something like what, now? He doesn't.
"Sounds good." Dazai gets to his feet, holding his coffee and leaving Chuuya gaping at him like a goldfish. "Are you coming?"
Chuuya hurries to get out of his seat, too, trailing after Dazai as he walks to the front of the cafe with long strides of his legs. There's no sign of that vulnerable shyness anywhere now. He's the spitting image of masculinity, of confidence. The sudden change throws Chuuya for a loop. Dazai has so many different masks that it's hard to keep up with them all.
"How do you know the way to my dorm?" Chuuya asks, when it becomes apparent that Dazai has no hesitation in which direction to go. "Are you really stalking me, or something?"
Dazai huffs out a little laugh.
"Don't be silly, Chuuya." He says. "I walked you home from the party we went to. You showed me the way then."
Chuuya blinks, quickening his strides to keep up with Dazai and his stupid long legs. If he wasn't so fit himself, he'd probably be out of breath. Luckily for Dazai, Chuuya is gay and caffeinated, so he keeps pace just fine.
"I don't remember that." Chuuya says. Dazai snorts.
"I don't blame you." He grabs Chuuya's hand to pull him along. Chuuya's face flushes as Dazai looks back at him with a soft smile. "You were pretty wasted."
It's distracting. The smile on Dazai's face and the warmth of his palm wrapped around Chuuya's fingers– it's distracting. So much so that all he can say is,
"Uh?"
Dazai's smile becomes a little bit smug, so Chuuya forces himself to recover.
"Why are you so clingy all the time, anyway?!" He snaps, but doesn't pull his hand away. Dazai stops in his tracks, looking down at their laced fingers.
"Sorry." He says, looking a bit subdued. "Do you want me to stop?"
"Do whatever you want." Chuuya grumbles. "I don't care."
Dazai smiles at him again, but it looks half-hearted.
"Physical contact is nice," He avoids Chuuya's eyes as he speaks. "I don't… get it, most of the time. It's easy, with you."
With that, he looks up again, meeting Chuuya's gaze with some sort of intensity in his eyes that Chuuya can't begin to understand.
"I thought you said you got around." Chuuya says, when he can find the words. Dazai looks away again.
"That's different." He mumbles. "It's not the same."
"Aren't you worried that the person you like will see us holding hands?" Chuuya asks. For some reason, his heart is pounding. Dazai smiles at him again, but there's something sad about it.
"I don't have a chance with them." He says. Oh.
"How do you know that?" They begin walking again.
"They've already turned me down." Dazai tells him. "Several times, actually."
Chuuya gapes, bewildered.
"You've confessed multiple times?" He asks. "Even after being told no?"
Dazai grins at him.
"Mama didn't raise a quitter." He says. Then he frowns thoughtfully. "Technically, she didn't raise me at all, so. You know."
"How can you joke about something like that?" Chuuya feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.
"Humor is my coping mechanism." Dazai chuckles. "Besides, it wasn't all bad. The servants were there."
"You were homeless four years, though." Chuuya says, feeling a little bit sad. Dazai tilts his head, looking deep in thought.
"Yeah." He agrees, eventually.
"That must have been terrible." Chuuya continues, trying his best to get Dazai to take the bait and open up. But all Dazai does is exhale shakily, squeezing Chuuya's hand without thinking.
"I'd really rather not talk about that." He says, grimacing. Chuuya frowns. "Not today."
"But someday, right?" Chuuya asks. Dazai's shoulders tense as they walk.
"I don't know." Well. It's not a no. Chuuya decides to drop it.
"Do you know what kind of clothes you'd like to try?" He says, trying to change the subject. Dazai's eyes, which had grown dark and a little bit cloudy, clear up just a bit. A grin makes its way across his face, but it looks a bit shaky, like he's still recovering.
"Whatever Chuuya puts me in, I'll like it." He says. Chuuya's cheeks flush, and he can feel his pulse begin to speed up. He wishes he could slow it down like Dazai.
"What if I decide to put you in lingerie, or something?" Chuuya asks, stumbling over his words. Dazai's grin turns sly.
"Would Chuuya like to see me in lingerie?" He teases, and Chuuya kicks him in the shin.
"You're shameless." He snaps. "Don't you ever get tired of making dirty jokes?"
Dazai bites his lip, likely to try to keep in a laugh. That's a shame. Chuuya frowns again. He'd like to hear it.
"But Chuuya is so cute when he blushes!" Dazai crows, and Chuuya turns absolutely beet red. "I wouldn't mind." Dazai continues, more serious, now. "If you wanted to put me in lingerie, I'd wear it."
That's a mental image.
"I'm not putting you in lingerie." Chuuya says, firmly. "It was a hypothetical question."
Dazai shrugs.
"Well, now you know I'm open to it." He says. Then he grins. "I can't believe you thought I had some sort of toxic masculinity complex. Who do you take me for?"
"I don't know!" Chuuya sputters. "You're a fuckboy! What was I supposed to think?"
Dazai gasps, like he's scandalized. Chuuya knows better.
"Chuuya, are you slutshaming me right now?"
Chuuya stops walking, yanks Dazai to a halt, and punches him several times in the shoulder.
"Owww," Dazai whines. "You're so mean to me, Chuuya."
"You deserve it." Chuuya says simply, and then keeps walking. Dazai trails behind him, clutching his shoulder with his free hand. He goes oddly silent for a long moment, to the point where Chuuya grows a bit concerned. When he turns his head, Dazai is staring forward with no expression whatsoever on his face.
"Yeah." Dazai agrees, in a monotone voice. It hits Chuuya like a punch in the gut, leaving him reeling, confused. He opens his mouth to speak, but can't seem to find the words.
"We're here." Is all he's able to say. Dazai stumbles to a halt behind him, his hand having gone lax in Chuuya's. Chuuya hadn't even realized when it had switched from Dazai holding Chuuya's hand, to Chuuya holding Dazai's. Chuuya watches as Dazai straightens up, a new kind of tension taking over his body, a new mask. A bit of irritation flares in Chuuya's stomach. He never really knows when he's seeing the real Dazai.
"Wahhh!" Dazai chimes as Chuuya opens the door. "Chuuya's dorm! How cool!"
"Shut up." Chuuya mutters, his cheeks heating. "I told you it would be messy, so don't get too excited."
Dazai skips inside, his hand still in Chuuya's, and looks around. It's a small dorm, just a room with two beds, two desks, and two minifridges. It's nothing like Dazai's dorm, Chuuya knows, but he hopes that doesn't matter. Shirase's side of the room is still covered in clothes and junk that Chuuya had asked him to clean up over text, but it looks like he hadn't gotten the message, or just wasn't there to be able to clean.
"Where should I sit? Or stand?" Dazai asks. He looks around, seeming a bit out of his depth. "I don't know where to start, sorry. I've never done anything like this before."
Chuuya can only blink. Dazai is refreshingly honest, sometimes.
"Right." Chuuya says. "Just strip down to your underwear, and take off your bandages, too. You can just stand where you are now."
He expects hesitation, maybe some apprehension, but he doesn't see any. Dazai gets straight to work, peeling the argyle sweater off of himself. Chuuya feels suddenly very put on the spot, and turns to his desk to search for his measuring tape, oddly flustered. He grabs a pencil and a notepad to have on standby, too. When he turns back around, he freezes.
Dazai is just standing there in his briefs, unraveling a long length of bandages from around his arm. Chuuya's stomach churns as he takes in the amount of scar tissue underneath. Dazai catches him staring and raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.
"I thought you said you didn't like pain," Chuuya mumbles. "That… looks like it really hurt."
The rest of the bandages on that arm fall away, and exposes only more scars, criss-crossing over each other with no rhyme or reason. Some of them, while not open wounds, still look freshly formed.
"I don't." Dazai says, tilting his head. "That's kind of the point. It's a punishment, you know?"
"How on earth would I know that?" Chuuya asks, exasperated. Then, before he can stop himself, "Do you still do it?"
A teasing smile crosses Dazai's face, but it's all surface level. Chuuya can tell.
"Not anymore." He says. "Not for a while, anyways. Why? Does Chuuya care about me?"
"In your dreams." Chuuya hisses, as the last of the bandages on Dazai's other arm come away. "I'm gonna get behind you, okay? I've gotta measure your bust."
Dazai hums an affirmative, raising his arms just enough so Chuuya can reach around his chest with the measuring tape. Chuuya jots down the measurements on the notepad as he goes, moving from Dazai's chest to his waist. He thinks he must imagine the shiver Dazai gives when Chuuya's hands rest on his waist.
"Cold?" He asks, anyway.
"Your hands are freezing." Dazai huffs, but Chuuya can hear the smile in his voice. Good. He's not overstepping, or anything. Then he gets a look at the measurement and gapes.
"How on earth is your waist this thin?" He demands. Dazai snorts quietly, so Chuuya pinches the skin just above his hip to punish him. It works. Dazai lets out a high-pitched yelp and slaps at his hand. He's never done that before.
"Fighting back?" Chuuya asks, a bit dumbly. Dazai looks at him over his shoulder and grins.
"My waist isn't actually as small as it looks." He says. "It's just a lot different compared to the width of my shoulders."
That actually makes sense. Huh. Maybe Dazai can be smart after all.
"I'm gonna move on to your hips now." Chuuya warns. "That okay with you?"
Dazai shrugs again.
"I'm not made of glass. You can be rougher with me, you know." The last sentence is said with such obvious implications that Chuuya socks him in the shoulder.
"How's that for rough?!" He snaps, and Dazai whines at him for it. "Now shut up and let me measure you already."
Dazai goes quiet and still for a moment when Chuuya wraps the measuring tape around his hips. Chuuya is almost concerned, but then Dazai lets out a shaky hum, tapping his fingers in a soothing manner against Chuuya's hand.
Keep going.
Okay, good.
"Your proportions," Chuuya gets out, when he removes the pencil from his lips and writes down Dazai's hip measurements. "They're really nice."
Dazai huffs out a soft laugh.
"I bet you say that to all the girls." He says, and Chuuya frowns.
"I'm serious." He protests, shuffling around on his knees to Dazai's front so he can measure the width of his thigh. "I've already got some ideas for what I should put you in."
Dazai stares down at him with wide eyes.
"Yeah?" He asks, sounding a bit breathless. Chuuya nods.
"Spread your legs a bit." He orders. "I've gotta measure your thigh next."
He thinks he must be imagining the audible gulp he hears.
"Okay." Dazai says, quietly. He follows through, adapting a wider stance so Chuuya can wrap the tape around the meat of his thigh. It's while they're positioned like this that Chuuya hears the door creak open. Ah.
He pops his head out from behind Dazai to see Shirase staring at them with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.
"Is– is this why you asked me to clean up?" He stammers.
"Yeah." Chuuya affirms. "It's okay that you didn't, though. I got your text saying you were out with Yuan."
Dazai snorts a little and Chuuya gives him a confused glare. Shirase is staring at him like he's grown a second head.
"I–" Shirase starts, and covers his eyes with one hand. "I can leave again, if you need me to! I'm so sorry to interrupt–"
Dazai really laughs then. He doesn't turn around, because the measuring tape is still around his thigh, and Chuuya is glad, because he hasn't written down the numbers yet.
"No, please!" Dazai wheezes. "Stay, enjoy the show!"
Chuuya is incredibly confused.
"That's really not necessary–" Shirase starts, and then Chuuya gets it.
His mouth drops open and he releases the measuring tape. It makes a whizzing noise as it automatically shoots back inside, and Dazai winces as it must scrape him. Chuuya jumps to his feet.
"Shirase, this is not what it looks like–"
"You couldn't have started with that?!" Shirase sputters, his hand still covering his eyes. "I don't care what you get up to in bed, Chuuya, you don't need to lie."
Mortification fills Chuuya to the brim. He knows just how red he must be. Dazai bends down to pick up the measuring tape from where it had fallen, but Chuuya hardly notices.
"I'm not lying!" Chuuya protests. His heart is racing and his face is hot as all hell. "We're having– I'm measuring him, okay?!"
Dazai turns around just as Shirase uncovers his eyes, and holds up the measuring tape for him to see. Shirase gapes again.
"Your arms." He breathes, and Dazai frowns, glancing down at himself briefly, his face blank.
"You gonna tell Yuan?" He teases, but there's no heat in it, so instead of elbowing or punching him, Chuuya just watches, concerned. Then he jerks his head towards Shirase in some sort of realization.
Chuuya jumps in front of Dazai and spreads his arms wide to cover him.
"Stop staring." He snaps. A brief glance up at Dazai's face gives Chuuya a glimpse of a smile too soft to be smug. Shirase blinks rapidly.
"So, what," Shirase starts. "You get to see, but I don't? You realize how that sounds, right?"
Chuuya thinks he might burst a vein if Shirase keeps being so fucking obtuse.
"You're being weird about it." He hears himself say. "They're just scars, who cares how they got there?"
"It's a little bit creepy, though, right?" Shirase asks, albeit a bit hesitantly.
"I am still right here, you know." Dazai interrupts, sounding amused. Shirase has the grace to look a bit guilty.
"Sorry," He mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck. "It's just– you get it, right?"
Chuuya bristles, but Dazai just nods.
"Sure." He agrees. "I'll put the bandages back on as soon as I'm allowed. We just have to finish up here."
Chuuya is almost in awe. Dazai seems so unaffected, like the words are water sliding harmlessly off of his skin. Chuuya lowers his arms from where they'd been stretched out, and notices Shirase watching him with narrowed eyes.
"And that's all you guys are up to?" He asks. Chuuya flushes in indignation.
"Yes." He grits out. Shirase nods, seeming appeased, and makes his way to his bed, plopping down on it with little grace.
"You won't mind if I hang around then?" He pulls a bag of potato chips out of god knows where. Chuuya rolls his eyes, but looks to Dazai before answering.
Dazai smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"Sure." He says. "Why not? We're almost done, anyways. Right, Chuuya?"
Damn it. Why is it always so hard to get a grasp on what Dazai is thinking?
"Right." Chuuya says, hesitating a bit, his hands hovering. Eventually, he's able to snatch the measuring tape back out of Dazai's hand. At that, Dazai's smile grows a bit softer, becoming something more genuine. Chuuya's heart pounds for a reason he can't quite begin to explain, much less understand.
He grumbles for a moment, kneeling in front of Dazai again so he can actually get the measurements for his thigh this time, without being interrupted. He can feel Shirase's judging eyes on him and shifts uncomfortably. He's just finished writing down the numbers when he suddenly feels something poke him in the center of his head.
Chuuya makes a surprised noise, startling, then glares up at Dazai when he realizes he's just poked him for fun. The glare falters, though, when he sees just how soft Dazai's expression has become. Chuuya swallows roughly, his mouth dry.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asks hoarsely, and Dazai tilts his head.
"How am I looking at you?" There's something hidden in those words that Chuuya just doesn't get. It's frustrating.
"You know," Chuuya tries, not moving from his place on the floor. "Like you… I don't know."
"Like you like him." Shirase says, suddenly, and Chuuya startles, having forgotten he was even there.
Dazai shrugs.
"What isn't there to like?" He asks, and Chuuya's heart thunders. Then Dazai smirks. "Our Chuuya is so handsome, right?"
A little bit of disappointment wells up in Chuuya's chest and he scoffs.
"Everything is always a joke to you." He mutters, getting to his feet.
"What makes you say that?" Dazai asks, stretching his arm out so Chuuya can measure the width of his bicep. Chuuya is surprised to see a bit of muscle there. Dazai is wiry, sure, but apparently he's not frail, despite how he acts.
"You never take me seriously." Chuuya answers, frowning. Dazai looks down at him, his head still tilted, a strange look in his eye.
"I mean it." He says, and Chuuya's mouth drops open. "You are handsome. I said so at the party, right?"
Chuuya's frown deepens as he ponders what that might mean, releasing the measuring tape and jotting down the last measurements.
"I thought I was tacky." He counters, and Dazai's mouth turns up at the corners. He steps closer and leans down just a bit. Chuuya exhales shakily at their proximity.
"You are." Dazai says, smiling smugly, and Chuuya is about to punch him when he speaks up again. "It's cute, you know?"
There's the sound of a throat clearing, and Chuuya startles again. He keeps forgetting they're not alone. He takes a hurried step back as Shirase gets to his feet.
"You know, I think I changed my mind," Shirase says, his face an almost unhealthy shade of red. "I'm gonna head out after all. I'll leave you two to do… whatever it is you're doing."
Chuuya flushes again, mortified.
"You–!" He exclaims. "I already told you nothing is happening!"
Shirase quirks an eyebrow.
"Keep telling yourself that." He says. "Because this?" He gestures between Chuuya and Dazai, at their close proximity. "This is basically foreplay."
"It is not!" Chuuya practically shrieks, but Shirase is already out the door. Chuuya is certainly no blushing virgin. He's had sex before, and definitely enjoys it. It's the thought of doing anything with Dazai that messes him up so badly. He jabs a finger into Dazai's chest. "This is your fault!"
Dazai snorts, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiles. It's pretty.
"How is it my fault?" He laughs.
"You're encouraging him." Chuuya says, scrambling to find a reason. "All the flirting and calling me cute, you're just doing it to make him think something is up!"
Dazai steps closer to him, to the point where their chests brush.
"I do all that when he's not around, too." He points out. "And besides…" He leans down so that his face is right in front of Chuuya's. "Don't you wanna know what it's like to kiss me, Chuuya?"
Chuuya's heart stutters in his chest. No, he would not like to know. He wouldn't. But he finds himself leaning forward anyway, closing his eyes. His pulse is thundering in his ears. His lips brush something soft, and then–
Then Dazai is threading a hand into his hair and meeting him halfway, with a firm press of his lips. His mouth is softer than Chuuya would have thought, with all the biting Dazai does on his lips. Dazai's free hand skates a thumb over Chuuya's cheekbone. It's almost tender. It feels kind of bizarre. It's nothing like what he'd thought it might be.
Not that Chuuya has thought about it. He just expected something more charged, more sexual. It almost seems like Dazai is being careful with him, so Chuuya pulls back, frustrated.
"Is that the best you can do?" He snaps, and Dazai grins at him cheekily before yanking Chuuya closer by the front of his shirt.
"You're about to find out." Dazai breathes, and then he's crashing against Chuuya fervently, biting at his lip and pulling, and something hot curls in Chuuya's gut at the sensation. He parts his lips to let Dazai in, and gets a little bit lost in the push and pull of his tongue.
Chuuya reaches a hand up to Dazai's hair and tugs, and he's surprised by the small whimper that Dazai lets out. For a moment, he's afraid he's hurt Dazai, but when he tries to pull away, Dazai doesn't let him.
"Do that again." Dazai murmurs against his lips, and so Chuuya does, yanking harder and relishing in the pleased sounds Dazai makes.
"Chuuya," Dazai whines, and Chuuya's chest swells. He did that. He made Dazai lose composure. When he pulls away, Dazai tries to stop him, but fails. And God, isn't he just a sight.
Dazai's lips are red and swollen, his hair is a mess, and his pupils are blown wide. He's breathing shakily, hands clenching and releasing in Chuuya's shirt.
"Want more?" Chuuya asks, smugly. He watches Dazai nod. It seems like he's lost his silver tongue. "Too bad. I'm done for today."
"You–" Dazai starts, and shudders. He takes a step back and grabs his pants from the floor, shoving his legs into them. "You're evil. How could you do this to me? You got me all undressed and everything, and we're stopping after one kiss?"
Chuuya flushes at that insinuation.
"Shut up." He grumbles. Then, "This can't happen again."
Dazai freezes, looking at him in some sort of shock, before his expression settles into one of confusion.
"Why not?" He asks. "You liked it, right?"
He buttons up his pants and reaches for his bandages, which lay on Chuuya's bed. Chuuya ponders that for a moment.
"I'm not looking for a relationship right now." Is what comes out. It makes even him frown. Dazai stares at him with an expression Chuuya can't begin to understand.
"It can just be casual." Dazai says, but it sounds half-hearted. Chuuya shakes his head.
"It just wouldn't work." He says, and Dazai's face goes blank.
"Yeah, okay." He says, finishing up the bandages on one arm and moving to the other. He cracks a teasing smile that doesn't look genuine. It's a shame. He really does look so pretty when he smiles a real smile. "Don't come crying to me when you end up wanting seconds!"
Chuuya scoffs.
"I won't." He grabs Dazai's turtleneck and hands it to him to put on. "I'm gonna alter some of my sketches. I'll let you know when we can do a fitting, got it?"
Dazai pulls the turtleneck over his head and wiggles into it.
"Put me in lingerie, Chuuya!" He says, when his head pops out through the neck. "Make me a temptress!"
"I will do no such thing!" Chuuya snaps, shoving Dazai's argyle sweater toward him. Dazai takes it with a smug smile.
"You've already seen me in my underwear," He says. "What's the difference?"
"You–!" Chuuya lunges at him, grabbing Dazai and shaking him back and forth. "Can't you be serious for one second?!"
Dazai makes a whining sound and Chuuya stops shaking him, immediately flustered as he remembers the last time he'd heard it.
"I think you'd find I can pull off lingerie very well." Dazai tells him, and Chuuya punches him in the shoulder. Dazai whines again. "You're so brutish, Chuuya, have mercy!"
"It's not about whether or not you'd be able to pull it off." Chuuya says, his face bright red. "It's just not what my line is supposed to be."
Dazai wrinkles his nose and sticks out his tongue.
"Boring." He says. "But oh well."
"Why do you want to wear lingerie so bad anyways?" Chuuya asks, feeling a bit faint at that image.
"Not just any lingerie," Dazai points out. "Chuuya's lingerie. I bet you could make me look hot."
You already do.
The thought startles Chuuya so bad that he takes a sudden step back in an attempt to get away from it. Dazai raises a smug eyebrow at him. Chuuya wants to punch him in the face.
"Find someone else to do that." Chuuya mumbles, putting his face in his hands. "I'm not putting you in lingerie. Deal with it."
Dazai clicks his tongue, seemingly disappointed.
"Damn." He says. Then, "Do you wanna study tomorrow?"
"Huh?" Chuuya asks, startled that Dazai is actually dropping the subject. "Sure, that sounds good. The same cafe as usual, right?"
Dazai nods.
"That's the one!" He chirps.
"I'll see you there." Chuuya says, but Dazai doesn't move an inch, just stands there, now fully dressed, worrying his lip with his teeth. "What?" Chuuya asks, frowning.
"Just–" Dazai starts, but hesitates. Then he smiles brightly. It's clearly fake. Chuuya is getting better at identifying things like that. "I'll find out who wrote you that note, okay? Don't worry about it! There's no case I can't solve!"
Oh. The note. Chuuya had actually forgotten about it, too caught up in their session to keep it in his mind.
"Yeah, right." He snorts. "I bet you can. Now get out of my dorm, you shitty bastard."
Dazai skips, skips, to the door, looking back at Chuuya and waving over his shoulder.
"Don't miss me too much, Chuuya!"
It's only several moments after the door has shut before Chuuya realizes that even though he'd had the opportunity, he hadn't given Dazai his coat back. And that Dazai hadn't asked.
The next day it rains. It pours. Chuuya almost asks Dazai if he wants to cancel, but backs out at the last minute. They'll be inside anyway, so what's the big deal? He gets together an outfit he thinks looks nice and grabs an umbrella before setting off across campus.
When he gets to the cafe, Dazai is already there, waiting. He's wringing his hands, too, picking at his bandages. Chuuya frowns. He isn't late, or anything. Did Dazai think he wouldn't show?
"You're here early." Chuuya says, stepping under the overhang and closing his umbrella. "You look… good."
He does. What the hell is Dazai always so stylish for? This time he's gone with a red sweater vest over white button down shirt, the cuffs rolled up to expose his bandaged wrists. Mink gray slacks are tightened around his waist with a black belt. His hair is tucked behind his ear again. Shit. Chuuya's thoughts run wild.
Dazai startles a little bit, like he hadn't noticed Chuuya approaching. Then he looks away. Is he… blushing? It's probably just a trick of the light, but Dazai keeps picking at his bandages and avoiding Chuuya's gaze anyway.
"Thank you." He murmurs. "You, too."
"You're not even looking at me," Chuuya deadpans. "How would you know?"
Dazai's eyes flicker back to him, and a smug smile creeps up onto his face. Good grief.
"Chuuya always looks good." Dazai croons. Chuuya clenches his hands into fists to contain himself and not punch Dazai again. He feels a little bad about it. "But you'd look better if you kissed me again."
That's it. Chuuya can't hold it in anymore. He socks Dazai in the arm, hard, and Dazai makes a small oof before he whines.
"In public!" He cries. "Domestic disputes are meant to be private, Chuuya. Someone might see."
"Would you shut up already?!" Chuuya shouts, and grabs Dazai by the arm, pulling him towards the door of the cafe. Dazai stumbles a bit before regaining his footing. "We're not together, and we won't be, ever, so get those thoughts out of your head."
"I think we'd make a good couple," Dazai says, and Chuuya freezes where he's holding open the door. "We'd look hot together."
"Yeah, well." Chuuya grumbles, flustered. "That's all we've got going for us. I still can't stand your guts."
"Wahhhh, Chuuya." Dazai complains, stepping inside. "Why are you so mean? Rejecting me like that in public. What's wrong with you?"
"Says you." Chuuya snorts, and follows him. "You'd need a catalogue to list all the mental illnesses you've got inside your head."
Regret fills him immediately, because who the fuck says something like that? Assholes, that's who. And Chuuya likes to think he's not an asshole. Most of the time. He glances at Dazai, worried, but Dazai is smiling that one smile, where his eyes crinkle at the corners.
"That was brutal." Dazai says, still smiling. "I didn't know you could joke like that."
"I don't." Chuuya replies. He's still feeling a bit apologetic. "Not usually. That was messed up, I'm sorry."
Dazai waves a hand flippantly at him.
"Don't worry about it." He says. Then his expression softens. "I'm glad you don't treat me like I'm fragile."
Chuuya flushes. No matter how many times Dazai looks at him like that, he'll never get used to it. It makes his stomach feel weird and fluttery.
"Whatever." Chuuya mumbles, embarrassed. "Let's order, already. For calling me a slug, you're such a slowpoke."
Dazai just hums, stepping up to the counter.
"Your usual?" He asks Chuuya, and Chuuya nods, a bit stunned by the shimmer the cafe lights bring out on Dazai's cheekbones.
Dazai orders the same thing as always, and they make their way to their usual table. Dazai takes his books out of a bag Chuuya hadn't even realized was slung over his shoulder. It's cream colored, and it contrasts well with his outfit.
"You really should be a model." Chuuya blurts, surprising himself. Dazai looks surprised, too, but only for a moment before he grins.
"Thanks," He says. "But I only want to model your clothes, Chuuya."
Chuuya doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn't.
"Whatever." He says, clearing his throat with a small cough. "Open your damn book already, bastard."
Dazai cracks a small grin, but he looks a bit subdued. It's annoying, because Chuuya can't tell if it's real or not. It's starting to piss him off that he can't tell when and where Dazai's masks begin and end. He thinks, sometimes, for just a moment, he can see the real Dazai, but it's gone as soon as it appeared.
"Do you think you have this formula down yet?" Chuuya asks, trying to be patient. Dazai nods, frowning in concentration. "Then we can move onto the next one. But only if you're sure."
"I'm sure." Dazai says, sounding determined. He falters a moment later. "I passed my test, you know?"
"You did." Chuuya agrees. "But I know you can do better if we keep at it. So are you sure you're ready to move on?"
Dazai hesitates for just a moment, gripping his pen tighter. Then he nods again.
"Yeah." He says. "If I don't, I'll be stuck on the same thing while everyone else moves ahead. I want… I want to get a good grade. I don't want to fall behind again."
Chuuya's chest swells at that. Weirdly, he feels almost… proud. It's strange, because he definitely hates Dazai, no doubt about it.
"Good." He forces himself to say, shoving that thought to the back of his head. "I'm glad. Let's get started."
Dazai gets it faster, this time. He still struggles, but it seems like he's learning the process to actually understand the problems in the first place.
"Like this?" He asks, pointing to his answer with his pen. "Wait, no. That's not–"
He scowls a little bit, his forehead creasing as he scribbles ink over the numbers and starts over.
"You know, if you used a pencil you could just erase it." Chuuya points out, and Dazai's frown deepens.
"I don't like them." He says. Chuuya blanches. He… doesn't like pencils?
"Why not?" Chuuya asks.
"They just…" Dazai's face is pinched as he speaks. "The texture of the graphite on paper. The sound it makes. It grosses me out. Pens are just… smoother."
Oh. It's a sensory thing.
"Okay," Chuuya agrees. "I can get that. But you can't do tests with pens. How do you get around it?"
Dazai frowns again.
"I just suffer through it." He says, and Chuuya snorts. Of course he does. It's just so… Dazai. Even if Chuuya doesn't really know him, the real him, it fits. "I think I figured it out, but I don't know." Dazai's voice is quiet. "What do you think?"
Chuuya scans the paper and nods.
"You got it." He can't help the way he smiles. When he looks back up, Dazai is staring at him, eyes wide with wonder. It makes Chuuya's mouth go dry. "You should have more confidence in yourself." He adds, his voice suddenly hoarse.
"Your smile is nice." Dazai says, ignoring him. Chuuya blinks, taken aback.
"Huh?" He asks, speechless.
"Did you not hear me?" Dazai asks. He tilts his head and grins smugly. "I know I'm tall, but we're sitting down, Chuuya. You should be able to hear me fine now that I'm on your level."
Leave it to Dazai to follow up a compliment with an insult.
"Fuck you." Chuuya says petulantly. He tries to kick at Dazai's feet under the table, but misses.
"Ah-ah," Dazai tuts, having scooted his chair back. "These shoes are new. I can't have you scuffing them, Chuuya."
"Fuck your new shoes." Chuuya snaps.
"How vulgar." Dazai sniffs, sniffs, at him. What a snob. "Where are your manners today, Chuuya? We're in public, you know."
Chuuya wants to lose his shit and spill his hot cocoa all over Dazai's shitty new shoes. That'll teach him. But he doesn't, because he's not that big of an asshole. He reigns himself in.
"Just. Get back to work." He grits out through clenched teeth.
Dazai hums and does as he's told. Chuuya watches him, correcting his mistakes as he goes along, and when Dazai gets to the last problem, his face brightens momentarily before it dims again. Chuuya frowns, confused.
"What is it?" He asks. "You finished. What do you look so down in the dumps for?"
Dazai looks up from his paper at Chuuya, eyes sullen and lips pursed in a pout.
"Now you're gonna leave me." He whines. "I want Chuuya to stay with me forever."
Chuuya flushes what he knows to be a bright shade of red.
"Quit saying shit like that." He hisses. Actually, on that note… "...have you found out anything about the poem?"
Dazai frowns.
"A little bit." He says. "It has to be someone close to you, right?"
When Chuuya stares at him in confusion, he continues.
"Physically, I mean. Is there anyone in any of your classes that seems like they might be interested in you?"
Chuuya ponders for a moment. He doesn't actually know.
"I've been really focused on my schoolwork," He admits. "I don't even know many of my classmates that well."
Dazai hums at that.
"Odd." He says. "I always pictured you as the social butterfly in this relationship."
"This–" Chuuya starts, flustered. "There is no relationship between you and me. None. Got it?"
A little smirk plays on Dazai's lips.
"I meant our tutor-student relationship, Chuuya." He taps his fingers against his pen. "You're the one who interpreted it that way."
Before Chuuya can retort with any kind of comeback, he continues.
"They would talk to you a lot, even if you were busy." Dazai says. "It could be kind of annoying. They'd ask for your help with things, even if it seemed easy to you, or like they should already know. Is there anyone who fits that description?"
Chuuya thinks about it hard, for a moment. Maybe… But he's not sure.
"I don't know." He says again, feeling sheepish. "I'll have to pay more attention from now on. I'll tell you if I notice anything."
Why is he involving Dazai in his love life so much? Chuuya doesn't really understand. What does it matter if he finds out who wrote the note? Why does he feel the need to let Dazai know?
Dazai just nods at him, putting his pen down on the table.
"Hey…" He starts, and then visibly hesitates. "Do you want to go out for drinks tonight?"
That throws Chuuya for a loop.
"You were serious about keeping me around forever, huh?" He asks, trying to joke. But Dazai just looks at him with dark, earnest eyes and says,
"Yes."
Chuuya's thoughts screech to a halt inside his head. What?
"Don't joke like that." He says, weakly. "That's not funny."
Dazai cracks a grin at him, but it looks half-hearted, almost fake. It looks a little bit like hurt.
"Whatever Chuuya wants." He says. "So, drinks, or no?"
With nothing else to do, Chuuya can only accept.
"Sure." His voice is shaky and unsure when he speaks, still a bit thrown off from Dazai's deadpan answer.
"Cool." Dazai smiles at him, brighter, now. That's better. Chuuya doesn't like the way it looked before, broken down like an old car, duller and pained. "Let's go, then, if you're ready."
"I am." Chuuya says, and stands up, grabbing his textbooks and putting them in his leather satchel. It's a good thing he'd brought it. It had started raining unexpectedly, just after he'd left his dorm. He'd had to run back and get an umbrella to use.
"I don't have an umbrella." Dazai warns him, fidgeting. "I got here before it started raining."
"We can share." Chuuya offers, shrugging. His umbrella probably isn't big enough for two people, but it's worth a shot. "You might get a little wet, though."
Dazai's eyes gleam mischievously as they head towards the door of the cafe.
"Chuuya!" He chimes. "My knight in shining armor! How will I ever repay you?"
Chuuya snorts at him, elbowing Dazai in the stomach.
"You can start by shutting the fuck up." He says, and holds the door open for Dazai again.
"What a gentleman." Dazai murmurs, smiling at him. It's too soft. It's unsettling.
"Just earlier you called me abusive and a brute." Chuuya deadpans. Dazai shrugs, smiling wider. His eyes are still warm, still soft. It's starting to weird Chuuya out. Because Dazai does this, sometimes.
He's a dick and makes shitty jokes that make Chuuya despise him, and then he has the gall to look at Chuuya like he's just seen the best thing in the world. It's weird.
"You are." Dazai says, his voice full of mirth. "Sometimes. But right now you're a gentleman."
Chuuya steps outside and opens his umbrella, holding it up over them and faltering when he realizes just how much taller Dazai is. This is going to be tough.
"I can hold it, if you want." Dazai says, shaking Chuuya out of his dilemma. "It might be easier that way, since you're so short and all."
"You–!" Chuuya exclaims, and then huffs. But he still holds the umbrella out for Dazai to take. Dazai does, looking exactly like the cat who got the cream. "Whatever. Let's go to my dorm, first, to drop off our books."
"Okay." Dazai agrees, adjusting the umbrella. "Keep up if you don't want to get wet!"
He says that, but as they're walking, Chuuya comes to realize that Dazai is tilting the umbrella almost completely over Chuuya, leaving half of himself to get rained on. It's not exactly heavy rain, but it's not light, either.
"Now who's the gentleman?" Chuuya grumbles, but Dazai shows no sign of hearing him other than a slight quirk of his lips. His shoulder and shirt are looking awfully damp. Chuuya feels a bit bad about it.
The rain bounces off the umbrella, creating a pretty pitter-patter sound as they walk in an unusual, but comfortable silence, broken only by Dazai's humming.
"What song is that?" Chuuya asks, feeling a bit wary of the situation. Dazai and silence don't mix well.
"Hopelessly Devoted." Dazai declares, stopping his humming to speak. "From Grease."
"Grease?" Chuuya asks, confused. "What's that?"
Dazai stops walking, and Chuuya does the same.
"Chuuya." Dazai gasps, seemingly affronted. "You've never seen Grease? The musical?"
"Is it a western thing?" Chuuya asks. Dazai frowns.
"Well, yeah." He says. "But it's really famous. I would've thought, since you're French and everything…"
Chuuya blanches.
"When did you find that out?" He asks. "And I'm only half French."
"The party." Dazai says. When he speaks again, he sounds a bit subdued, his voice quiet and cautious. "You said your mom is in France. I just put two and two together."
Chuuya stiffens a bit. How much had he said that night? How much had he given away? He doesn't want Dazai to pity him, or anything. But the look in Dazai's eyes isn't one of pity right now. It's careful, calculating, like he doesn't want to scare Chuuya off, but nothing close to pity.
"You… really are smart, aren't you?" Chuuya asks quietly. He watches Dazai tilt his head.
"A little bit." Dazai says. "Just not in math, I guess."
Yeah. Chuuya can see it, though. Dazai is smart. He just doesn't believe in himself.
"Anyways," Dazai says, linking their fingers together with his free hand and continuing to walk. Chuuya lets him, too dumbfounded to do much else, but Dazai's skin burns hot against his own, not feverish, just warm. It's unnerving. Chuuya has never been this affected by anyone's touch before. It must be because he hates it, hates him. That's it. "You should watch it. Grease, I mean. It's good."
"Yeah," Chuuya agrees. His mouth is dry. "Sure, okay."
"Let's watch it together someday!" Dazai chirps, squeezing Chuuya's hand tighter. Something nameless flutters about in Chuuya's stomach. He hates it. He wants it to go away.
Get it out.
Get it out.
I don't want it anymore.
Is this what his admirer meant by those lines? No, that can't be right. Because there's no way Chuuya will ever feel anything but animosity towards Dazai. Like him? How absurd. Dazai is too much of an asshole for Chuuya to ever catch feelings.
The kiss was a mistake. A good one, maybe, because it felt nice. But it was still a mistake, and it can't happen again. It wouldn't end well. Chuuya knows that much.
They reach Chuuya's dorm not much later. Chuuya unlocks the door and shoos Dazai inside after he closes the umbrella, looking him over.
"You're soaked." He deadpans, closing the door behind them. Dazai is. He's practically dripping water onto Chuuya's floor. "Give me a second. I'll find you something to wear."
It looks like they won't be going out for drinks after all. Chuuya rummages around in his dresser for some clothes, pulling out an old t-shirt and some sweatpants. He turns around to Dazai peeling off his clothes with no hesitation. Jesus. Chuuya doesn't think he'll ever recover from seeing that much of Dazai's skin.
Objectively, Dazai is attractive. That's what Chuuya tells himself. He tosses Dazai the clothes and Dazai takes them. He takes off his bandages first, though. Chuuya supposes it makes sense. The bandages are wet, too, after all, and that can't be comfortable. But there's something so vulnerable about Dazai without them. Chuuya feels… lucky, somehow. It's weird, but he's grateful Dazai can trust him with it.
Dazai pulls on the shirt, and it hangs off of his shoulder with how big it is, making Chuuya gulp. Dazai raises an eyebrow at him.
"This is really yours?" He asks, standing there in just the t-shirt and his boxers. It's domestic. Jesus Christ. That shouldn't be so appealing.
"Shut up." Chuuya says, weakly. But Dazai steps closer until they're chest to chest, looking down at him, and Chuuya– he's a weak man, okay? He can't help but reach his hands up and yanks Dazai down by his hair, smashing their lips together in a passionate kiss.
Dazai reciprocates. Feverishly so. His hands find their way to Chuuya's hips and squeeze, and Chuuya breaks the kiss, pushing Dazai onto his bed and climbing onto him before latching onto Dazai's neck with his mouth, biting and licking until there are dark marks forming all across the skin of his throat and shoulder. Dazai doesn't move, just breathes heavily, baring his neck, hands still gripping Chuuya by his hips.
When Chuuya pulls away, Dazai looks at him with eyes blown wide, and messy hair from where Chuuya had pulled it.
"Are you done?" Dazai asks breathily. No. Chuuya isn't done. He can't explain it. It must be all the anger and tension running through him, but he wants to see Dazai ruined. Dazai is hard beneath him, anyways, so...
"I'm gonna suck you off." Chuuya announces, and Dazai stares at him, open-mouthed. "Is that okay?"
"Yes, yeah." Dazai blurts, and Chuuya clambers off of him to get on his knees on the floor.
"Take your boxers off, asshole." He snaps, and Dazai listens, tugging them off and throwing them across the room. Holy shit.
Dazai's cock isn't huge, but it's certainly big, and also just really, really pretty. Chuuya kind of can't wait to get his mouth on him. He wastes no time, either, gripping the base and leaning in to rub his lips over the head. Dazai lets out a shaky breath, threading a hand into Chuuya's hair and scratching gently at his scalp. It feels… nice. But that's not the point.
The point is the fucking noise Dazai makes when Chuuya licks a stripe up the shaft of his cock, and then takes the head into his mouth. He lets it sit there for a moment, tonguing at the slit and drinking in Dazai's squirming and cut off noises of pleasure, before bobbing his head to take in more.
It feels good. It feels good to have Dazai's hand in his hair, Dazai's cock in his mouth, Dazai near him. He doesn't let his brain linger on why.
"Chuuya–" Dazai chokes out, when Chuuya pulls off to mouth at the head again. "You're so–"
"So what?" Chuuya asks, pulling off with a pop, much to Dazai's visible frustration.
"Just–" He says, his face screwed up into a look of pleasure as Chuuya takes him back into his mouth. "Has anyone ever told you how fucking hot you are?"
Chuuya hums around his cock in response and Dazai's hips jerk just slightly. Chuuya pulls off again.
"Don't you dare." He commands. "I'm doing this my way. Hold still."
Dazai's hand clenches in his hair before he removes it, placing it on the mattress and gripping onto the sheets.
"Okay," He breathes out shakily. Good.
Chuuya takes him in again, sinking about halfway down before he hollows his cheeks and sucks, and Dazai's thighs tense as he visibly fights not to buck up into Chuuya's mouth. He's being good, it seems. Chuuya smirks as much as he can around the fucking cock in his mouth, and bobs his head. He lets Dazai's cock press into the soft inside of his cheek, and Dazai jerks, but his hips stay firmly on the bed.
Chuuya pulls off to just breathe, replacing his mouth with his hand and giving a few good, firm strokes, maybe a little rough if the way Dazai's hips flinch away is any indication, but Dazai's face tells him all he needs to know.
His lips are swollen from biting them, his eyes hooded, hair strewn astray, and his fingers are white with how tightly he's holding onto the sheets.
"Good?" Chuuya asks, just to be sure, and Dazai nods, his breath coming fast and heavy, chest falling and rising as he shudders. The hickeys Chuuya had given him stand out starkly along the bare stretch of skin where the shirt hangs off his shoulder. Chuuya is suddenly struck by how beautiful Dazai is. "I need a verbal answer."
"I'm–" Dazai tries, his voice breaking as Chuuya rubs the palm of his hand against his cock. Chuuya grins. "I'm good, yeah. You can keep going."
"Good." Chuuya coos, and sinks back down on Dazai's cock again, hiding his teeth behind his lips so as not to cause any injury. He has the feeling Dazai might be close, which is a bit funny, but he doesn't exactly blame him. Chuuya knows he's hot.
He swallows around Dazai once, then again, just so he can hear the broken noise Dazai makes as he does it.
"Chuuya," Dazai grits out, and Chuuya recognizes a warning when he hears one. He pulls off and wraps his lips just around the head, sucking harshly and relishing in the choked off groan it gets him. It's only a moment later that Dazai is coming, hot bitterness coating Chuuya's tongue. The taste isn't to die for, or anything, but it's still hot as all hell. He knows he grimaces at the taste, but it's one of the most arousing experiences Chuuya has ever had in his life.
When he pulls off for the last time, looking up at Dazai, breathing harshly, Dazai is staring at him with wide eyes.
"You swallowed." He says, sounding surprised, good surprised.
"Well, yeah." Chuuya scoffs. "I didn't wanna make a mess."
"You didn't–" Dazai cuts himself off with a sound that's close to a growl and tugs Chuuya up to sit on his lap. "C'mere."
He fiddles with Chuuya's zipper before managing to get it down, and reaches into Chuuya's pants to grab his dick in his hand. Chuuya stifles a groan, his head falling down onto Dazai's shoulder.
"You don't have to–" He starts, but Dazai hushes him.
"I want to." He grits out, still breathing harshly. Then he spits into his palm and takes Chuuya in his hand again, jerking him off so slow that Chuuya has to buck his hips to get more friction.
"Come on, then," Chuuya snaps. "Faster."
Dazai obeys, speeding his hand up, and Chuuya realizes he has made a massive miscalculation. He thought it was funny how fast Dazai had fallen off the edge, but they've barely even started and Chuuya feels like he's falling apart.
It's good. Dazai twists his wrist on every upstroke and it sends sparks of pleasure shooting up Chuuya's spine. He's embarrassed of the bitten off noises he makes and the jerks of his hips, too. He hides his face in Dazai's shoulder and startles when Dazai's lips press against the top of his head.
"Come on," Dazai murmurs against his hair, flicking his wrist and drawing out a louder noise from the back of Chuuya's throat. "Let me hear you, Chuuya."
Fuck. Chuuya isn't about to do that, so he bites down on the space between Dazai's neck and shoulder again as an escape, bucking his hips into the grip Dazai has on his cock. It's getting a bit dry, the friction nearing painful, but Chuuya doesn't care.
He starts making muffled noises against Dazai's sweaty skin, everything feeling too much and toohot, and he doesn't even get to warn Dazai that he's close, because–
"Come for me."
With those words whispered so close, so heatedly next to the shell of his ear, followed by Dazai's mouth latching onto his earlobe and teething at one of his piercings, Chuuya can't help himself.
He falls over the edge and into Dazai's arms, coming with weak jerks of his hips into the palm of Dazai's hand. He finally calms down, breathing heavily against Dazai's skin.
"Fuck." Dazai breathes, and Chuuya can only make a weak noise of agreement. He pulls away from his hiding place just in time to see Dazai lick his palm clean.
"You're gross." Chuuya says, wrinkling his nose, and Dazai just grins.
"I didn't want to make a mess." He recites, and Chuuya slaps his chest weakly.
"Shut up." He says half-heartedly, feeling boneless and tired. "There are wet wipes on the bedside table. Let me grab them."
He reaches over, but it's a struggle to actually get them. He manages eventually, and wipes himself down as Dazai cleans his hands.
"You might as well stay the night." Chuuya finds himself saying, and Dazai stiffens under him. "We don't know when the rain will stop, and you don't have an umbrella. I'm not enough of an asshole to make you walk home without one."
"Good point." Dazai says, relaxing. "Do you have a blanket I could use?"
Chuuya stares at him dumbly.
"Mine." He says. "You think I'd make you sleep on the floor? With your frail body?"
Dazai frowns.
"I'm not frail." He protests. "I have some muscle."
He does, but Chuuya isn't about to admit that. He snorts instead, getting up to change into some softer clothes to sleep in, and tosses Dazai his boxers and sweatpants.
"I thought you liked seeing me naked." Dazai says, and Chuuya glares at him.
"Shut up and just put them on, you bastard."
Dazai does, but he smirks the whole time as Chuuya watches him. He's probably gotten exactly what he wanted out of this. Chuuya groans, frustrated, and shoves his legs into his own pair of sweatpants. He pulls a hoodie over his head, turns off the light, and stomps over to his bed.
"Move over." He says. Dazai snorts, but does as he's told, grabbing onto the cinnamoroll plushie as he moves so he doesn't squish it. That's thoughtful of him. He hands the plushie to Chuuya and Chuuya grabs it, flopping down on the mattress and holding it to his chest.
But his bed isn't exactly built for two people, so he ends up sprawled halfway across Dazai's front, Chuuya's head resting on his chest as it rises and falls to the rhythm of Dazai's breathing.
"Don't get any ideas." Chuuya says. "This can't happen again."
He can hear the smugness in Dazai's voice when he speaks.
"You said that last time, too." He says. "Look where we've ended up, Chuuya."
"Shut up." Chuuya retorts, but it's weak and tired, pressed into the fabric of Dazai's shirt. "Go to sleep already."
Dazai's hand comes around Chuuya's waist to rest on his back. The touch is scalding, but in a good way.
"Okay." Dazai whispers, and Chuuya is gone. He drifts off to sleep to the sound of rain outside his window and Dazai humming by his ear.