Sweet Little Lies

by Aiyaar

Summary:

Dazai was always good at telling lies. He spent his whole life hiding behind different masks, faking emotions and playing with people's feelings. Lie was his best friend and helped him survive in this cruel world. But with Chuuya everything was always different.
Or five times when Dazai lied to himself and one time he didn't.

Notes:

In honor of the upcoming new chapter tomorrow.
MANGA SPOILER WARNING

1. I don’t want to be his partner.

The day they officially became partners Dazai always considered to be the worst day of his short, meaningless life.

A little more than a year has passed since the first time they met in Suribachi and only a few days since the incident with Verlaine, when Mori summoned the two of them to his office, where, without any preludes, bluntly stated that from that very day Dazai and Chuuya will officially be partners and all subsequent tasks will be performed together for an indefinite period of time.

If Dazai had been less professional, he would have shot Mori or, better yet, himself in the head. During his two years in the mafia, he managed to gain enough experience to not be surprised by any quirks of the boss, keeping his cool regardless of the difficulty or cruelty of the order. But this time even his endurance was not enough to contain all the indignation he felt.

For already quarter of an hour Dazai has been following Mori back and forth across the long office that was illuminated by midday sunlight thanks to huge, French windows offering a beautiful view of the city. But Dazai didn't care how beautiful this view was.

"Mori-san, that's just unfair.” Dazai continued to complain. “I'm much higher in rank than him. If I work with him, then only as a superior. I refuse be on the same level as this red-haired mutt. I'm a member of the Executive Committee! I can't do the same job as him, like we're on equal terms."

Having finished his fiery speech and hearing the same thing that he had heard in response to each of his arguments before, he sat down in a chair near the boss's desk with a pained groan and covered his eyes with his hands. Somewhere behind him, Mori, completely calm, seemed to be saying something about diamonds and his ulterior motives, which they will get to know for the hundredth time already. Kouyou, who was also in the office, giggled softly, covering her red lips with the sleeve of a chic kimono. Raising his eyes, Dazai looked at his “partner” for the first time this morning.

Chuuya was leaning against the cool surface of the wall with his back, his hands folded in front of him and pulling his ugly hat a little lower on his forehead than usual. His ice-blue eyes were looking somewhere ahead of him, but it seemed that he was not focusing his gaze on anything in particular. His thin pale lips were slightly pursed, his eyebrows, always raised in indignation, were now two straight lines. It was one of those moments when Dazai couldn't determine what kind of emotion that freckled face was expressing.

Chuuya, with perfect indifference, one might even say apathy on his face, watched the performance taking place in front of him. Dazai felt himself boiling even more just by looking at this dwarf in a hat. How did it happen that the irritable and hot-tempered Nakahara, who couldn't stand Dazai, reacted so calmly to all this, while Dazai himself was ready to blow up the whole office. At what point did they fucking switch the roles?!

Although it was worth noting that in the last few days, after all this story with Verlaine and Professor N, Chuuya behaved as strangely as possible. Dazai hasn't exchanged a few words with him these days, but he's always been very observant. And this time, he didn’t even need to be that observant. To not notice that there was something wrong with Chuuya one should be either blind or stupid. The boy was surprisingly quiet, almost always following Kouyou around, even spending the nights at her place. When talking to someone, he often asked again or even completely ignored the question someone asked him. He was lost in thought, as if he didn't know where to put himself. Dazai knew that yesterday he spent almost the whole day at the cemetery, probably visiting his dead friends. Many people thought that Chuuya pretty quickly got over everything that had happened to him over the past week, but Dazai had known him long enough to understand that he was, to put it mildly, shocked.

But Dazai didn't care much about that. Now he wanted Chuuya to be annoyed and start shouting, calling him names and maybe even breaking things in the office of their esteemed boss. That is why Dazai tried to choose the most unflattering words about the redhead in his speeches and complaints, the words that he knew would definitely offend him and force him to engage in this verbal altercation. But Chuuya was only listening, from time to time pursed his lips or clenched his fists in leather gloves, nodded his head at everything Mori said. He didn't seem to care at all that he had just been partnered with the person he hated the most in the entire world. The fatigue on his face showed that he just really wanted to leave this room as soon as possible. Dazai sincerely did not understand such a reaction.

“Mori-san,” he tried again. “I still think your decision is unreasonable. I agree to do some missions with him from time to time, but doing all the work together?! We can't even spend a minute together in the same room without having a fight. How do you want us to do all the work together? Chuuya, admit it, it's going to be terrible!”

Fixing his gaze on the redhead, Dazai silently tried to make him at least say something, but Chuuya only glanced at him for a moment and immediately looked away. Mori, who took a notice on their fleeting glances, grinned maliciously.

“That's why, Dazai-kun, I decided to teach you to get along with each other.” he said cheerfully.

Dazai felt as if he had been doused with ice water. This couldn’t possibly mean that…

“What do you mean by getting along?” Dazai asked in a ringing voice. Oh, he doesn’t like where this is going.

“Exactly what you think it means, Dazai-kun.” Mori smiled even more cheerfully. “The Mafia will provide a shared apartment for you both. By next week everything will be ready, then you will move.”

It took Dazai several long seconds to digest the information he had heard. When it finally dawned on him, he couldn't find anything better than to stare at their boss in bewilderment.

Then, for the first time all morning, Chuuya finally spoke. Casting a brief glance at him, Dazai saw shock, incomprehension and even rage in his blue eyes.

“Boss, this is-”

"Chuuya-kun, you may go.” Mori interrupted him sharply, making it clear that no one had asked his opinion on the matter.

Chuuya clenched his fists, exhaling sharply through his nose, visibly trying with all his might to calm down. Then he leaned away from the wall, bowed to the boss and headed towards the door without saying another word. Kouyou also got up from her sit as gracefully as usual, bowed and followed after her apprentice.

When the door closed with a thud behind them, Dazai stared at Mori with a mute question in his eyes. He had never treated Chuuya like this before, completely unceremoniously throwing him out the door. What the hell is going on here?

With a sigh, Mori walked to his desk, sitting down in a large black armchair and resting his chin on his long, intertwined fingers, that were covered with white gloves. He stared at Dazai for a while, starting to speak only after a minute of uncomfortable silence.

"Chuuya shouldn't hear what I'm going to tell you now, Dazai-kun.” he explained. “I wanted to talk to you about this in private.”

"What are you talking about, Mori-san?" Dazai looked at him with confusion on his face. “Why are you doing all this?”

Mori sighed particularly heavily this time and, suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle began to gather in Dazai's head. Oh, so that's what it all means.

"You see, Dazai-kun," he began. "I'm worried about Chuuya-kun's condition. After everything that happened to him, he started to be a little... unstable. It worries me.”

“You're afraid.” not a question, but a statement.

“It's just a safety net. We only know about Chuuya's powers from the paper reports of the lab where he was kept. We don't know anything for sure and we can't take any chances. We can't afford losing control.”

“Control over what? Over Chuuya? Do you think he can't control himself?”

“Chuuya is a dangerous type of weapon. He can harm many people, including himself, if he is not kept under control. That's why I'm asking you to be around him as often as possible. I'm worried about him.”

Dazai clenched his teeth. Worried, yeah, of course. This bastard doesn’t even consider Chuuya a person. “Weapon.” That's who Chuuya is to him.

“Everything is clear.” he said, holding back the anger in his voice. “Can I go now?”

Mori nodded curtly, immediately shifting his attention to the papers on his desk. Dazai stood up, glad in his heart that it was finally over and he could leave, at the same time angry that Mori had managed to convince him to obey so quickly. When he was about to open the big oak door, Mori called his name again.

“Have a nice day, Dazai-kun! I'll send you the information about the accommodation later.”

Dazai abruptly opened the door and, without turning around, flew out into the corridor.

 

The apartment they were put in was much better than the container in which Dazai had lived for the last year. It was spacious, with high ceilings, walls painted in light colors and giant windows in the living room. They had two bathrooms, two bedrooms, an enormous living room connected to the kitchen and a balcony. The area was quiet, there were no neighbors on their floor, and the house as a whole was not very inhabited. But even all these good points did not bring much joy to Dazai.

When the last box was brought in, Kouyou, who decided to help with the moving in, looked around the new apartment for the last time and, saying goodbye to Chuuya, went out the door, leaving the two boys alone. Nakahara glared angrily at his partner.

“Don't look at me like that.” Dazai couldn't help but sigh. “I don't like it very much either.”

Chuuya, grumbling something under his breath, headed for the living room. In Dazai's opinion, he still behaved unusually quietly and it alarmed him. It was hard not to notice how terribly tired Chuuya looked lately. The dark circles under his eyes clearly hinted that he had not slept for several days, which was strange, given the two weeks' vacation allocated to him. This was done specifically to give him time to regain strength, but he rather looked like someone was pumping all this strength out of him. Maybe Mori was right and something was wrong with Chuuya, but Dazai didn't really care about that.

"That room is mine.” He pointed toward the bedroom, which was further away from the kitchen. “There are two bathrooms here, so we won’t even intersect. Don't go into my part of the apartment if you don’t have a reason to do so and I won't go into your side either. Just imagine that I'm not here. Agreed?”

Chuuya silently nodded, indicating that he was fine with these conditions, and headed for the kitchen, leaving Dazai alone.

 

For as long as Dazai could remember, he was always a light-sleeper. Therefore, even in his sleep, he could hear someone else's quiet footsteps on the parquet and the sound of the balcony door opening. He woke up almost immediately and, after contemplating whether he should just go back to sleep or not, decided to get out of bed and check. As he expected, Chuuya wasn’t sleeping. He was standing barefoot on the balcony, shivering a little from the cold. He was dressed only in pajama shorts and an oversized T-shirt. A cigarette was smoldering in his hand, which for some reason was still covered in glove.

“It's hard to pretend like you're not here when you're staring at me.” his hoarse voice seemed to cut through the night silence. Dazai winced.

“You woke me up.”

“It's not my fault that any little rustle can wake you up.” Chuuya countered indifferently, inhaling and exhaling smoke.

They stood in silence for a while. It seemed that Dazai's presence didn't really bother Chuuya, but it gradually began to annoy him, although he never even turned around to look at him. Dazai was trying to decide whether he should leave his partner alone and go to bed or start a conversation.

“Since when do you smoke?” he finally said, breaking the long silence.

Chuuya turned his head a little, looking at him sideways, but almost immediately turned away, returning his gaze towards the night city.

“None of your business.”

Dazai rolled his eyes.

“Why aren't you sleeping?” he tried again.

There was no response. Chuuya didn't even seem to hear the question, continuing to peer into the darkness.

The conversation was over.

 

“Shit!” Chuuya blurted out.

This time Dazai had to agree with him. The situation was a stalemate.

This was the first time they were sent on a mission as official partners. The mission was simple: dispose of some thieves from a small organization that were sneaking into one of the weapons depots of the port mafia. The plan was also simple: infiltrate the warehouse, then Chuuya and several other mafiosi would destroy their enemies. Actually, Dazai wasn’t even needed there, because there was no much of a strategy required. But the problem was that there was absolutely no information in the report about the number of opponents and they did not expect the mining of the building. It was as if their enemies knew about the attack in advance. Dazai decided to deal with it later. He had much more urgent problems at the moment.

He and Chuuya hid behind a loading container while a hail of bullets pounded the metal behind them. Normally, firearms, even in such numbers, were absolutely no threat for Chuuya. He could catch the bullets with his hands and redirect them wherever and however he wanted. But right now, he couldn't use his ability properly: with a bomb in the building, it would be too dangerous. So now Dazai was frantically trying to come up with some kind of a plan. He had already called Hirotsu for reinforcements. With his help it will be possible to neutralize the enemy. Except Dazai had no idea when they would arrive. His transmitter was now somewhere nearby, lost in mud and blood and trampled by dozens of pairs of heavy boots.

Dazai took a quick glance at his partner. Chuuya looked odd, as if he had been fighting this whole time, although he didn't even have time to raise his fist before the shelling began. He breathed somehow heavily, every once in a while, clenched his fists in gloves so hard that the leather fabric creaked and winced in irritation, as happens when you hear a very nasty sound.

Dazai frowned.

“What's going on with you?” he shouted, trying to drown out the noise of the shelling.

Chuuya glared at him, already opening his mouth to answer when suddenly a grimace of pain ran across his face and he pressed his fingertips on his temples, as if he suddenly began to suffer from a severe migraine. Almost immediately, a thin scarlet snake of blood flowed down his chin. Dazai watched in bewilderment as Chuuya literally bent in half, settling down, allowing blood from his nose to fall in thick drops to the ground.

Having no clue of what was happening, Dazai reached out to his partner with his hand, squatting down.

"Hey, chibi, are you okay?"

At the same moment his eyes widened with realization. Familiar bloody patterns began to spread across Chuuya's neck.

Dazai instantly reacted and grabbed his partner’s thin wrist, immediately neutralizing Corruption that didn’t even have time to start, so that the mafiosi around them did not even notice anything. Entirely white eyes were immediately replaced with bright blue ones. The red threads on his skin slowly receded and Dazai breathed in relief, although he still did not let go of the other's wrist.

Chuuya immediately came to his senses, looking around forlornly.

“What-“

“I should be asking you this.” Dazai cut him off abruptly, then spoke to the mafioso closest to them. "Hold them off until Hirotsu–san and his team arrive. Defuse the bomb and protect the warehouse. Now try to clear the way for us, Chuuya needs medical help.”

Then he dragged Chuuya to the car.

 

“What the fuck was that?” Was the first thing Dazai said once they reached the apartment.

Chuuya did not dare to start a conversation first. It was the first time he had seen his partner so pissed and did not know how to react. On top of everything else, he felt incredibly tired and all he wanted to do was to simply pass out.

Dazai slammed the door behind them, deciding to stay in the hallway and looking expectantly at Chuuya. He was still holding his wrist.

“Let me go already, you fucker!” the redhead breathed out irritably, pulling his hand out of the hard grip.

Dazai immediately froze, cautiously looking at Chuuya, as if expecting something terrible to happen. Nakahara let out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m fine, calm down.”

He made his way to the living room and plopped down on the sofa, hoping that the interrogation was over. But Dazai silently followed him, standing next to the sofa to face him and crossing his arms over his chest. There was a displeased and expectant expression on his face, which made it clear that Nakahara would not get away so easily.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Chuuya rubbed his temples with a pained sigh, leaning his head back on the sofa and throwing a tired look at Dazai. Finally, gathering his thoughts, he spoke:

"You know perfectly well yourself.” he said in a hoarse voice. "Mori–san must have already told you everything. I'm unstable.”

Dazai’s expression didn’t falter, only relaxed a bit.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

“No.” Chuuya frowned. “But he knows. Otherwise, he wouldn't have arranged all this.”

He waved his hand vaguely, but Dazai understood what he meant.

"And what makes you think that's what I'm here for?"

“Maybe that’s not the only reason.” he shrugged. “But this is your main task. To keep me under control.”

Dazai just chuckled at that. He won't deny it, he didn't need to. He was only mildly surprised. Sometimes he forgets how smart Chuuya actually is.

"How long?" he asked, sitting down on the sofa.

Chuuya, who clearly decided that the conversation was over, looked at him with a puzzled look on his face.

“What?”

Dazai rolled his eyes. Apparently, not so smart.

“Since when do you lose control?” he explained, although he already knew the answer.

Chuuya winced.

“I'm not losing control.” His fingers began to fiddle with the edge of the leather glove on his other hand. “Just… He's been too active lately. More precisely, from the moment I first used… Corruption.”

He looked at his gloved hands as if they were cursed, almost immediately hiding them in his pockets with contempt.

Dazai only nodded at his words. He thought so.

“What does “too active" mean?”

Chuuya sighed again and closed his eyes. He showed with his whole appearance that he did not want to talk about it at all, but he knew that Dazai would not leave him alone.

"Well..." he began, clearing his throat. “I don't even know how to explain it to you. Arahabaki, he's... talking. He’s always talked for as long as I can remember myself. But before it was like a whisper somewhere deep in my subconscious, almost inaudible. Until recently, he didn't bother me in any way. But after Corruption it’s almost like he lost it. Even now I can hear him screaming. Screaming in my head nonstop every day and it's unbearable! As if once, after he felt complete freedom, he could not get enough. He talks to me all the time, asks me to let him out. I think my head is going to explode soon. He's literally fucking my brains out, I can't sleep!”

By the end of his tirade, Chuya himself almost broke into screaming. Emotions suddenly surged on him, and he felt how his eyes began to sting treacherously. Fatigue forced him to lower his head on his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He restrained himself with all his might so as not to start sobbing.

Dazai looked at him with curiosity in his eyes, as if he saw some unknown animal. He looked indifferent, but Chuuya's words aroused a strange interest in him.

"How long have you been not able to fall asleep?"

“It's been over a week.” Chuuya replied without raising his head.

“Have you tried to tell Mori? He could prescribe you some-“

“Pills don't help!”

Dazai tilted his head to the side. What if he just…

Chuuya visibly shuddered at the feeling of a cold palm on his neck. Almost immediately, his body relaxed, all tension was gone. He heard a relieved sigh.

Dazai chuckled. His lips split into a thin grin.

“Better?”

Chuuya raised his head, looking at his partner with reddened eyes. In the dim light of the room, the dark circles under his eyes became even more expressive, and his face even more haggard.

Without responding to the clear mockery, he reached for his right hand, slowly removing the glove. Dazai's eyes widened.

“What are you-“

“I'm not going to use Corruption, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Chuuya interrupted him irritably. “Just…”

He looked at him a little uncertainly, as if deciding on something. Then he forcefully grabbed Dazai's hand, at the very moment letting out a sigh of relief and falling back on the sofa in a relaxed manner.

Dazai looked at him in surprise, opening his mouth to say something, but Chuuya interrupted him.

"Please don't say anything.” he closed his eyes. “I just really want to sleep.”

In any case, Dazai would not have had time to say anything, because Chuuya immediately began to snore.

After a little thought, he also leaned back on the sofa, sitting as far away from his partner as he could while his hand was tightly hold in another. If he had to sit here with Chuuya until he wakes up, then he can sleep himself.

I don't want to be his partner.

The thought flashed through his mind when he was almost falling asleep. But a slight smile touched his lips anyway.

 

2. I'm not worried about him at all.

 

Dazai was extremely bored.

He was supposed to be going out for a drink with Oda and Ango today, like they always do on weekends. But this time they left the bar pretty quickly, because Ango had some urgent business to take care of and Oda had promised to visit his orphans. So now, at one o'clock in the morning, he was walking along the street lit by lanterns, heading for the only entertainment available now: Chuuya.

His house was very close to the station where Dazai got off, so he didn't even consider other options. He was also sure that Nakahara was home now, and not in some bar. Just this morning, Chuuya used Corruption and was sent home to have some rest. Dazai had never seen him after Corruption, always leaving him unconscious on an empty battlefield, but had heard that he needed time to recover. So, he expected to find his partner sprawled on the couch with a glass of wine in his hand, watching some stupid reality show that he loved so much.

What he definitely did not expect was to find his partner's apartment in a mess and with the lights turned off everywhere. As he opened the door, he almost stepped on Chuuya's precious hat lying on the threshold. A little further from it lay his black cloak. Dazai frowned. Chuuya was definitely home, because he doesn't go out without his beloved hat. Is he sleeping? But then why are his things scattered on the floor? Chuuya was always very careful with his clothes.

After picking up his cloak and hat from the floor, Dazai put them on a chair and headed deeper into the apartment. Even if Chuuya was asleep, he still could wake him up. Won’t be the first time.

He decided to check the kitchen first, in case Chuuya fell asleep over a bottle of wine. He found the switch and turned on the light, finding an even bigger mess than in the hallway. There was a first aid kit on the kitchen table, various boxes of medicines were scattered on the wooden surface, some fell on the floor. One box was open, next to it were crumpled blisters and an unfinished glass of water. The top kitchen drawer was open with a chair below it. Dazai grinned. Why put the first aid kit on the top shelf if you know you won’t be able to reach it?

Dazai suppressed the desire to swallow something from the scattered pills just for fun. He wasn’t in a mood for suicide today. He approached the table and took the pills that Chuuya apparently drank to read the name. Painkillers, just like he thought. He probably had a headache after waking up from Corruption, so he went to bed early. Nothing serious.

Oddly, Dazai has never seen Chuuya in the first few days after Corruption. When they lived together, Kouyou took Chuuya from the hospital straight to her own house, usually for a week or so. Now that they were already living separately, it somehow did not occur to Dazai to visit his partner while he was recovering. Chuuya didn't seem to want anyone to check up on him, anyway. He told Dazai that he was always given a few days off because he had headaches after Corruption, but it wasn't that serious. Dazai didn't really care, so he didn't ask much.

He went from the kitchen to the bedroom, but to his surprise, he didn't find Chuuya there either, although he had definitely been there before. The blanket and sheets on the bed were crumpled, as if someone had been sleeping very restlessly on them. As Dazai came closer he could distinguish some dark spots on the white sheets. Blood, he guessed, and frowned even harder. Chuuya went to bed without even taking a shower? What the hell is going on here?

There were also small bloodstains on the carpet that left a thin trail to the bathroom, illuminated by yellow light coming from a crack under the door. “Ah, so that's where he is,” Dazai grinned.

Swining the door open, he immediately stumbled upon Chuuya, who was crouched on the floor, hugging the toilet with one hand and resting his head on the seat. He looked, to put it mildly, not good. His face was pale, hair tangled, red curls were partially stained with dirt and congealed blood. He did not change his clothes after returning from the mission, remaining in ripped and dirty shirt and trousers. Most likely, he passed out as soon as he crawled to bed.

Chuuya didn't notice the intrusion at first, reacting a little belatedly to the sound of the door opening. He looked at Dazai, but his eyes were clouded and unfocused, as if he didn't actually see the person who disturbed his peace. Nakahara blinked, brain trying to process what he was seeing. Finally his blue eyes met brown ones, and he parted his cracked, bloody lips to say:

"Fuck, am I having hallucinations now?"

His voice was hoarse and barely audible. Looking at Dazai again, he giggled somewhat hysterically. Then his gaze clouded again, the grin left his pale lips and he vomited into the toilet. Dazai wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Are you drunk already?" he was about to laugh, but immediately stopped himself, noticing what Chuuya was wiping from the corner of his lips with the back of his hand. He threw up with blood.

Dazai took a step forward, squatting down next to his partner.

"Hey, are you okay?" he reached out his hand to brush Chuuya's hair off his face, but Chuuya just waved it away.

"Don't." he croaked, immediately going into a fit of coughing. New drops of blood appeared on his lips. "Don't touch me."

"What?" Dazai didn't understand, but lowered his hand anyway.

Chuuya raised his head, again shifting his gaze to Dazai, and then to his hands.

"You will stop the healing process." he explained in a barely audible voice, resting his head on the toilet seat again.

Dazai widened his eyes in surprise. Was Chuuya still recovering? He thought that this process would be much faster, but judging by the current condition of the redhead, everything was much more complicated.

Chuuya tried to get to his feet, leaning on the toilet and straining so hard that his knuckles turned white. Finally, he got up and leaned against the wall, standing in front of Dazai, who was still standing at the door and was trying to surpress the urge to grab Chuuya by the elbow to help him stand.

"What are you doing here?" the redhead wheezed wearily, though his voice was still ringing with irritation.

"Just wanted to check up on you. But apparently you're not feeling very well." he replied, casting him a meaningful look.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Chuuya muttered, rolling his eyes and taking a small step towards the sink. His body responded to the sudden movement immediately. A thin scarlet trickle ran from his nostril down his chin.

"Damn it." Chuuya hissed, throwing back his head and covering his nose with his hand.

Dazai silently handed him a roll of toilet paper. While his partner was trying to stop the bleeding, he grabbed his elbow and led him to the sink. With his touch, all of Chuuya's strength seemed to leave him at once, but his body relaxed, causing him to almost fall face first into the sink.

"Wash up." Dazai said calmly, turning on the cold water.

Chuuya glared at him, but still put his bare palms under the water and began to wash his face. After rinsing his mouth, he turned off the faucet and leaned wearily against the sink, hiding his face in his hands. Letting out a painful sigh, he rubbed his temples and brushed the strands from his forehead with a wet hand. Having recovered a little thanks to the cold water, he was finally able to straighten up and look at his partner, who had been suspiciously quiet for the last few minutes.

Dazai was standing by the tub, holding a shower in his hand and looking expectantly at Chuuya.

"What are you doing?" he breathed out, trying his best not to lean against the sink. Dazai just shruged his shoulders.

"You should clean yourself, you're covered in dirt and blood. You can't do it yourself, so I'll help you. Take your clothes off."

Chuuya had already opened his mouth to object, but Dazai interrupted him rather sharply.

"Oh, let's not do this, please. Hurry up and get in the tub before I change my mind."

Chuuya gritted his teeth, but he did not have the strength for a verbal altercation at all, so he slowly took off his clothes, or rather what was left of them. With Dazai's help he was able to climb into the bath and sink to the cold bottom.

The sight of his body made Dazai shudder slightly. Chuuya didn't look very healthy in his clothes either, but the sight of his naked body horrified even the skilled mafioso Dazai Osamu. His entire torso was covered in bruises and scratches, he had a brown-red hematoma on his right hip, some cuts were still bleeding and were quite deep. Even the sight of these wounds made him hurt. Dazai hated pain. How can Chuuya bear it?

Turning on the shower, Dazai poured icy water over Chuuya, instantly bringing him to his senses. The redhead jerked, hissing slightly as the water hit the cuts.

"Sorry, I'll make it warmer now." Dazai muttered without any shadow of remorse, turning the faucet in the other direction and reducing the pressure. Chuuya relaxed a little, leaning back and covering his eyes.

A stream of water slowly wandered over his mutilated body, lingering on the areas with dried blood a little longer. With a washcloth in his hand, Dazai began to gently wipe the dirt off from Chuuya's forearm.

"You don't have to do this." Chuuya muttered, apparently trying hard to remain conscious.

"I don't." Dazai nodded. "Consider it me returning the favor."

He didn't explain what he meant by that, but they didn't need it. They both remembered the day when Chuuya had to sew up Dazai's wrists with his own hands after finding him in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor very clearly. Dazai almost begged his partner not to take him to the hospital or, even worse, to Mori. Chuuya screamed at him, called him names, cursed him, but still did the stitches very carefully, his hand slightly trembling. Dazai didn't remember much about what happened after that, but there was a clear moment in his memories when Chuuya gently laid his weak body on the sofa and covered him with a blanket. He also remembered how Chuuya complained that he had been scrubbing the floor for almost two hours from his “fucking blood, why did you bleed that much, idiot!”

They never talked about it. Chuuya didn't ask him any questions and Dazai was even grateful for that. Now, as he wiped the blood off Chuuya's hands, careful not to press on the painful bruises, he tried to convince himself that he was only doing this so as not to be in debt to his partner. He chose to ignore the way his heart ached painfully at the mere sight of Chuuya's wounded body.

Putting the washcloth aside, he looked around the shelf that was with a large number of different bottles on it.

"Where do you keep the shampoo?" he asked, holding the shower over the red curls, that turned almost brown thanks to the wetness. Warm water washed away most of the blood, but shampoo was still required, otherwise his hair will smell.

Chuuya blinked the water off from his eyelashes and looked absently at Dazai. He had already managed to doze off and didn'tt hear the question. He felt like he was going to be sick again, but he restrained himself with all his might so as not to vomit blood mixed with bile again. He felt that he was feeling even worse with Dazai's touch, because the god inside him could not continue to heal his vessel. But he didn't even have the strength to raise his hand, so Chuuya decided to let go of his pride for once and just accept the help, albeit it was from Dazai.

"Shampoo." Dazai said again, defiantly running his hand through the other's wet hair.

Chuuya lifted his chin a little, pointing at the lowest shelf.

"Green bottle with pink inscription." he croaked, nodding affirmatively when Dazaya picked up the right bottle.

The room was instantly filled with a pleasant, floral smell, that made the irony smell of blood dissapear. Chuuya relaxed and lay down again, closing his eyes at the nice feeling of someone else's hands massaging the scalp. It didn't last long though and very soon the hands disappeared along with the warm water. Chuuya restrained a disappointed groan and opened his eyes a little.

"Sit here, I'll get you some clothes." Dazai said, getting up and heading for the door.

He rummaged through the closet, fishing out the most oversized things he could find so that the fabric would not irritate the damaged skin. He decided that this time Chuuya could do without underwear.

When Dazai returned to the bathroom, he found Chuuya in the same place where he had left him. He looked much better without all the dried blood, but the bruises and scratches didn't go away, neither did the unhealthy, greenish color of his face.

"If you want to throw up, then go ahead. I've seen worse things, you know. Or, if you want to, I can leave." Dazai said nonchalantly, dropping the clothes on the laundry drawer.

"Fuck off." Chuuya grumbled in response. "I'm not going to puke. Though you really should leave, I'm going to get dressed.

Dazai raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"You can barely stand on your feet, chibi. How will you dress all by yourself?"

"Well, I got home by myself somehow." Chuuya hissed back at him, with slight sting of accusation in his voice. "So, thanks for the help, but I'll manage to get dressed on my own."

With these words, Chuuya got up on trembling legs and stepped out of the bathtub, standing with bare feet on the cold tile. Completely ignoring Dazai, he began to put on his pants, struggling to keep his hands from trembling.

Dazai sighed, but for the first time in his life he decided to actually listen to Chuuya and retreated from the bathroom back to the bedroom. After taking another look at the dirty sheets, he finally decided to change them so that Chuuya could at least sleep in a clean bed, otherwise there would be no use from all his efforts in the bathroom.

As he took off the bloody sheets and started to change them, he thought about what Chuuya had told him. He had never thought about how his partner got home after Corruption before. He would always just leave him somewhere on the docks, each time placing a hat and gloves next to his unconscious body. Dazai didn't even worry about the rest, continuing to go about his business. But the resentment in Chuuya's voice made him feel somehow strange. He didn't feel guilty, not at all, but he thought that maybe it could be a little dangerous to leave him alone on the battlefield like that. After all, if something happens to Chuuya, Mori will skin him alive.

"You’re still here?" A hoarse voice interrupted his thoughts.

Chuuya was standing in the doorway, leaning on the jamb. Apparently, it was still hard for him to stand without support. In his loose, homely clothes and with disheveled hair, the water from which dripped onto the gray fabric of the T-shirt, he looked quite odd. Dazai was too used to seeing him in formal, perfect clothes, with his atrocious hat covering his hair. Even when they lived together, he saw Chuuya wearing casual clothes only a couple of times, because he never even stepped into his bedroom or bathroom.

But what was even more unusual for Dazai was to see Chuuya's bare hands, which he could usually see only in the first seconds before Corruption was activated, when Chuuya took off his gloves and uttered those well-known cursed words. The rest of the time, his pale hands were covered with a black cloth.

Apparently, Chuuya himself was uncomfortable being without gloves for so long. At first, catching Dazai's gaze fixed on his palms, he awkwardly hid them in the pockets of his sweatpants. But he quickly changed his mind, walking swiftly to the closet and fishing out a new pair of clean black gloves from one of the shelves. Dark cloth immediately covered his hands. Dazai didn't quite understand all the fuss about gloves, but he knew that they helped Chuuya feel like he had control over himself.

"Stop staring at me." Chuuya glared at him again. "Get the fuck out, what are you even doing here in the first place?"

Dazai shrugged his shoulders.

"To be honest, I was just bored." he replied indifferently. "I wanted to piss you off a little, but little did I know that I would have to wash you."

"Nobody asked you to, asshole." Chuuya hissed. A tinge of embarrassment appeared on his cheeks. It probably only now dawned on him that Dazai could see his naked body during all those thirty minutes in the bathroom. "You really should go. I want to sleep."

He walked to the bed and slipped under the clean blanket, lying down with his back to Dazai, who was standing at the windowsill.

"Well, I think," Dazai replied after a while. "That I should stay here and find out what the hell is going on, Chuuya?"

"What are you talking about?" Chuuya asked, without turning his head to look at him.

"These are the consequences of Corruption, right? Is it always like this?"

Chuuya hesitated with the answer, still not turning around. After about twenty seconds, he finally said:

"No. It's just that I've been in it... too long today."

Dazai just rolled his eyes at this statement.

"Well, that’s a lie. Why do you lie if you know you can't." And while Chuya didn't come up with a respond, he added. "I keep track of the time every time you use Corruption. I never hold you for more than three minutes, because when you were in it for three minutes and twenty-four seconds, you were in a coma for a week. Today I stopped you at the fifty-eighth second. It wasn't even that long. So, the consequences that I saw today are not even that bad, right?”

Chuuya remained silent.

"Headache, you say." Dazai chuckled. "Turns out you're almost dying everytime after you use it. How many days do you need to recover?"

"Usually no longer than three days." He finally said in a quiet voice. "It would take an ordinary person more than a month for all this to be cured. But I got lucky, he heals me himself."

Dazai pursed his lips in distaste and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at Chuuya's tense back.

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

"What for? Like you care."

Dazai roughly grabbed his injured wrist, turning Chuuya around and forcing him to look at him.

"If you didn't lie to me, I wouldn't leave you to get home by yourself every time. I thought you'd be fine after you passing out. You can barely walk, how did you even get home?"

"I took breaks." Chuuya replied sarcastically, wincing from the strong grip on his wrist. "Let go, you're hurting me."

Dazai immediately released his hand, but didn't move away, still looking intently in his blue eyes. He seemed to be a little angry now.

"Do you even realize how irresponsible this is on your part? I'm your partner. You have to tell me about such things so that I know if you are able to protect yourself. Why couldn't you just tell me not to leave you alone after Corruption!"

"Because!" Chuuya snapped, going into a coughing fit from too much strain on an irritated throat right after. "A normal person wouldn't do that without someone telling them! I thought that even if I told you, you wouldn't care anyway. You dream about getting rid of me. What do you put all this show for?"

Dazai could feel that he was starting to lose patience. Chuuya always knew how to piss him off. “A normal person.” Very funny. But no matter how much he wanted to hurt Chuuya in return, he knew that it wouldn't get them anywhere. Sighing, he tried to calm himself down.

"Listen, Chuuya." he began again, trying to sound as calm as possible. "It's not a personal matter. It directly concerns our work and our responsibilities. My job is not only to stop you from Corruption, but also to keep you alive. It is your responsibility to fully trust me, both during the mission and after."

"It's not that serious. I don't have to tell you about everything." Chuuya muttered back at him, looking anywhere but at Dazai.

"Stop lying."

"Fine!" Chuuya raised his voice again. "If you want the truth, you will have the truth. Yes, every time Corruption, I have to pick up the pieses, trying to feel normal again. Yes, I spend the whole weekend unconscious until it gets better, throwing up the bloody pieces that were once my organs in between. And yes, I fucking feel horrible from the fact that you always leave me alone, but it's even better than seeing pity in your eyes!"

Dazai widened his eyes in surprise at such a statement. Chuuya just managed to put a word to the strange feeling that had been tormenting Dazai for the last hour or so. He, the heartless executor of the Port Mafia, who had subjected so many people to terrible tortures in his life that he himself had already lost count, was truly pitying Chuuya now. And he knew perfectly well how much Chuuya despises pity, especially when it is directed to him.

"Pity?" he tried to laugh it off. "Come on, chibi, do you seriously think that I care about…"

"Then why are you here?" Chuuya interrupted him. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "Maybe you don't care, but the fact remains. I look pathetic. So much so that even you found some empathy for me. And it's humiliating, Dazai!"

"Why?" Dazai blinked, not really understanding the problem.

"Because it's you! I wouldn't care if ane-san or even Akutagawa were here. Anyone but you! The last thing I want right now is to be laughed at.

Chuuya's words stung Dazai again. Does he seriously think that Dazai is that cruel as to make fun of him when he's in this condition?

"I won't laugh at you, Chuuya." he said calmly. "Not when you're like this. Not today, not tomorrow. That's low."

He didn't look convinced. Dazai sighed wearily.

"You may not believe me, but I'm telling the truth. There is nothing humiliating about being weak sometimes."

"Do you even believe yourself?" Chuuya chuckled humorlessly.

"Yes, I do". Dazai replied calmly. "You've seen me in my worst moments, but you've never used them against me. If you need help, just tell me about it. You don't have to lie to me and tell me that everything is fine."

Chuuya didn't answer anything for a while, silently examining Dazai in the dark of the room, probably making some conclusions for himself. Then he relaxed slightly, sinking back onto the bed.

"Okay." he muttered at last. "Maybe you're right. But if you talk about it tomorrow, I'll kill you, got it?"

Dazai smiled slightly and nodded.

"Got it."

Chuuya grunted contentedly, burrowing himself under the blanket.

"Get out, then. I'm going to pass out soon, but I won't be able to sleep peacefully knowing that you are in my house."

"Okay." Dazai agreed unusually quickly, getting up from the bed and heading for the exit. "I'll stop by tomorrow morning, otherwise you'll die of boredom here. Do you need me to bring you something?"

"Painkillers. I've finished those that I have already." he muttered sleepily.

Dazai nodded and was about to open the door when Chuuya added:

"And ice cream."

"Strawberry?" Dazai smiled again.

"Yeah."

Dazai took one last look at Chuuya, who was already snoring, curled up in a ball under a fluffy blanket.

I'm not worried about him at all.

But he still got him some strawberry ice cream.

 

3. I don't like his stupid red hair.

 

Since the day they met for the first time, Chuuya's hair was Dazai's favorite topic for jokes (in addition to his height, clothes, choker, eating habits, platform shoes, his love for dogs, etc.).

At the very moment when someone threw him into the wall with incredible force and he saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye, he made the conclusion that red is the funniest hair color that ever existed. He just couldn't imagine how someone could look menacing when they had an orange bomb exploded on their head. It's hard to even be inconspicuous with that sort of hair (although Chuuya could manage that when he truly needed to).

Chuuya didn't take the jokes about his hair as close to heart as he did with jokes about his height and apparently did not have any issue with it, because, unlike his height, he actually liked the bright color of his hair. He always took care of his hair, used different balms and oils, dried his hair with some kind of special technique to make his curls look presentable. After he joined the mafia, he also decided to grow out his hair and now was walking around with a small low ponytail tied with a black ribbon.

Dazai thought that Chuuya looked ridiculous, but not attractive in any way. Not attractive at all. Not even a little bit. The whole port could argue with him on that though. From the very first days of Chuuya in the Port Mafia, people remembered him mainly by the color of his hair. When he was still Kouyou's apprentice, who was mostly given only small and insignificant tasks, he was known as “that red-haired boy” or “the boy with hair like a lion's mane” (and also “the lord of gravity”, but that's not the point). His hair was the first thing people noticed in him. Many thought that the red color only emphasizes his character more: ardent, unbridled, arrogant. But many also often complimented his hair. How many times did Dazai roll his eyes in annoyance when another subordinate casually said something like “Chuuya-san, you have such beautiful hair!”. Chuuya always responded to such compliments with a short thank you and a smug smile. Over the years, Nakahara became more and more confident with himself, gradually even ceasing to be embarrassed of his height. He knew that people found him attractive, one might even say handsome, and frankly took advantage of it. Chuuya was often a distraction on this kind of missions when they needed to go to an important gathering undercover. He shamelessly flirted with men and women, drawing all their attention to himself while Dazai put something into someone's drink or stole a flash drive with needed information from someone's pocket. Chuuya was often invited on dates, asked for his number, some fools even offered to start dating. But Chuuya always declined their offers for some reason. Dazai didn't even know if Chuuya had ever slept with someone, because he never went on dates (not like he was thinking about it, of course).

But, apart from all of the above, Chuuya's hair annoyed him so much mostly because he was distracted by it. It was simply impossible to tolerate. Every time they had a joint task, that shock of red hair that flashed before his eyes made him forget the whole plan. Chuuya's hair always shimmered so brightly in the sunset light, turning from copper to red, with the arrival of darkness becoming almost brown, that Dazai couldn't stop staring at it. It was infuriating.

One time, when Chuuya had to use Corruption on a mission out of town Dazai had to carry his partner in his arms to the nearest shelter. On their way there his hair, which had escaped from the ponytail in battle, kept getting into Dazai's mouth, nose, and eyes. It was horrible, especially considering that Chuuya was snuffling in his ear, was squeezing Dazai's neck in his sleep with such force that he almost strungled him and weighed a little more than fifty kilograms (at such moments, Dazai was ready to thank the heavens for his partner's small complexion, because he would not have been able to withstand even more load on his back).

It was a late autumn day, which meant quite cool weather, especially at night. There were still many hours left before sunset, so when he got to the nearest shelter and threw Chuuya on the sofa, he first decided to start fire in the old fireplace to warm himself up a little. He had covered unconscious Chuuya with his warm cloak, so now he was shivering from the cold in just one thin shirt.

Having warmed up a little, Dazai approached Chuuya to take a phone from his coat pocket and call a car and, preferably, a medic to be sent for them. Chuuya got a lot of damage today from his own ability. But as soon as he approached his partner, Dazai caught sight of those annoying hair again. In the dim light coming from the flames in the fireplace, Chuuya's hair took on even more unusual colors. In some places, where the light didn't reach, they seemed burgundy, and overly illuminated strands - almost blonde. Such a palette of colors reminded Dazai of autumn. He really liked autumn…

Thus, after an indefinite amount of time, Dazai found himself sitting on the floor, his face directly opposite Chuuya's peaceful face, and his bandaged hand tangled in those unruly red curls. Dazai jerked, as if his hand was scalded. What is he doing? He needs to call for help already, or Chuuya will bleed to death.

As he dialed the number and listened to the beeps on the phone, Dazai tried not to look in the direction of his partner sleeping on the couch. And he was very happy when two cars finally arrived to pick them up, one of which took Chuuya out of Dazai's sight (to the hospital), and Dazai to his apartment.

After that incident Dazai began to joke even more often about his partner's hair, one time even threatening to cut off this annoying red ponytail while Chuuya was sleeping. He didn't appreciate his joke and in response threatened to cut off his “bandaged stumps if you touch me, you idiot!”. Dazai only sighed resentfully, dramatically stating that his heartless partner does not appreciate his efforts, although Dazai only wants the best for him, because Chuuya's hair make him look like a girl. He only received another menacing look in response, after which Chuuya stood up and proudly left the room with a huge folder of reports in his hands.

 

It was an ordinary winter day. Christmas was getting closer, so the whole of Yokohama was in a pre-holiday turmoil. The weather was absolutely not fitting the Christmas mood. It was raining and then snowing at night, which caused slush everywhere, the sky was completely gray, and it was so cold that no one would want to leave their house.

And, of course, it was the day when Dazai was called to the headquerters. What luck.

He was getting out of the elevator when someone, apparently about to enter the elevator, crashed into him.

"Shit, watch where you're going, you long-legged fuck." Dazai heard a grunt of displeasure, followed by a strong push at his chest.

He grinned, automatically tilting his head down a little bit to look at his red-haired partner.

"Haven't seen you for a long time, Chuuya." he drawled.

"Yeah. My happiness didn't last long."

In fact, they haven't seen each other for a little over a month. Dazai was very busy investigating an extremely important case that Mori had entrusted to him and ordered him not to tell anyone about it. Chuuya, on the other hand, was abroad for two weeks, accompanying Kouyou, who was participating in some negotiations and came back just yesterday. Therefore, they did not have any joint tasks, which Dazai was completely satisfied with.

But now, when he saw Chuuya for the first time in a month, it seemed to him that something... had changed in him. Dazai couldn't say what exactly, but something in Chuuya had definitely changed.

"Stop staring at me. Move." Chuuya spoke again, getting more and more irritated.

His voice pulled Dazai out of his thoughts. He realized that he had been standing in front of the elevator all this time, blocking Chuuya's path and just gawking at him. He immediately stepped aside.

"What are you doing on this floor?" Dazai tried to change the subject.  "Were you looking for me?"

"Yes, actually." Chuuya shoved a thick folder into his hands. "Look through these reports. Mori-san said to give them to you."

He walked past Dazai and into the elevator, closing the doors right in front of his face.

Dazai couldn't concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. He didn't even touch the papers he was told to read. Instead, he sat at his desk and replayed the brief morning meeting with Chuuya in his head.

He imagined his partner, trying to figure out what he had missed. Something in Chuuya had definitely changed, and Dazai, being naturally very attentive to details, could not understand what exactly. And it infuriated him.

Finally, it became so unbearable that Dazai decided to take action. Calling his secretary, he first asked:

"Has Chuya left yet?"

"No, Dazai-san." The girl answered timidly.

"Tell him to come to my office."

With a quick bow, the girl disappeared into the doorway. Five minutes later, Nakahara's displeased face appeared in the same doorway.

"What do you want? You're not my boss to call me to your office."

"Technically, Chuuya, I am your boss. But that's not the point, come on in."

Chuuya clicked his tongue in displeasure, but still sat down in the chair opposite him. Dazai only tilted his head, carefully examining his partner. For a while they just sat there, not saying a word. Finally, Chuuya shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, unable to wait any longer.

"Well, what do you want? Spill it." he exclaimed crossly.

Dazai hesitated with the answer, not knowing what to say exactly. He called Chuuya solely to look at him, so he didn't have much to say. But, since Chuuya was here, he could ask himself…

"Chuuya." Dazai began slowly.

"Talk faster, you're getting on my nerves."

Dazai saw that Chuuya was beginning to lose patience. He needed to get right to the topic, or else Chuuya will simply get up and leave.

"Did you change your hat or something?" Dazai blurted out sharply. Chuuya raised his thin eyebrows in surprise.

"I always wear the same hat, you know that."

"Or is it a new choker? Or maybe gloves? Show me your hands."

"What's wrong with you, Dazai?! What kind of questions are these?"

"You changed something." Dazai finally explained. "I want to understand what exactly."

"Changed?" Chuuya didn't seem to understand. "Like, changed something about myself?"

Dazai nodded.

"Oh, so that's what you're talking about. Did you seriously call me here for this?"

Dazai continued to look at him expectantly. Chuuya sighed.

"God, I wish I knew what was going on in your sick mind." He rubbed the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. "I cut my hair. Satisfied? Can I go now?"

Dazai's mouth gaped wide. Now that Chuuya said it, he could see that the red ponytail dissapeared. Chuuya's hair lay in wavy strands, curling down to his ears. Exactly the same hairstyle he had when they met. How did Dazai not notice it himself? And why did he care so much?

"But... why?" he said finally, dumbfounded.

"I decided to follow your advice for the first time in my life." Chuuya chuckled, watching his reaction with a smirk on his pale lips.

"But I didn't mean…It was a joke." Dazai muttered, lowering his gaze.

Chuuya couldn't hold back anymore and laughed at the sight to his partner's confusion.

"Relax, I'm kidding of course. Who are you to make me listen to you? I've got a haircut to make it more convenient for myself. My hair gets in the way sometimes when I'm fighting, so I have to wear a ponytail all the time, but my scalp hurts because of it. Plus, I need to take care of them a lot." Chuuya listed the reasons, counting off his fingers. "It's much more convenient this way. I should have done it earlier."

He got up from his chair, adjusting his hat on his now short red hair.

"I was about to go home when you called me. So, if that's all you wanted, I'll go now."

Dazai nodded slowly, seeming to finally come to his senses again. Almost immediately, he jumped up from his chair and took his coat from the hanger.

"I was going to leave too. We'll leave together."

And, ignoring Nakahara's obvious displeasure, he headed out of the office.

They walked out of the building into the parking lot together, shivering slightly from the winter cold.

"Do you need a ride?" Dazai asked.

"No, I'm on my bike."

Dazai nodded. They stood in awkward silence for a while.

"Well, I probably..." Chuuya began.

"Don't cut your hair anymore. At least it didn't look that ugly when it was long." Dazai suddenly blurted out and, without turning around, headed for the car.

I don't like his stupid red hair.

He didn't see the way Chuuya stared after him in confusion, running his hand through his now short locks.

 

4. It was just sex.

 

He remembered the day when it all started very clearly.

Dazai came to Chuuya's house with a wine bottle in his hand and offered him to drink together, not knowing why exactly. He just felt like it. He had never drunk with Chuuya before, preferring the company of Oda and Ango. But that day something drew him to Chuuya.

So, three hours later, he was sitting in Chuuya's kitchen, finishing a bottle of wine and looking sideways at the red-haired partner, who was sitting next to him. Chuuya was in an unusually good mood that day. He let Dazai in almost without any insults and easily agreed to have a drink with him, which kind of surprised Dazai, but for his own safety he did not say anything about it out loud.

The atmosphere was oddly peaceful for them and they talked about random topics, laughing from time to time. It was already after midnight, but Dazai didn't even think about leaving. Definitely not when Chuuya looked so relaxed and calm, with his cheeks flushed from all the alcohol and hair slightly damp after the shower. He was wearing nothing but simple shorts and a loose T-shirt, that was exposing pale collarbones and sometimes falling off his shoulder. His thin neck was as usually decorated with a black choker, and his hands with black gloves. For some reason, Dazai couldn't stop looking at him.

Chuuya was talking about something that happened to him on yesterday's mission, when suddenly his hand, which he was waving so vigorously, bumped into the glass of wine. Burgundy liquid instantly covered the light surface of the table, flowing down and soaking the gray fabric of Chuuya's shorts.

"Shit!"

He shook his hand, brushing the drops off from his leather glove.

That was when Dazai's brain stopped working.

Without thinking at all about what he was doing, he carefully grabbed Chuuya's wrist, bringing his hand to his lips and gently touching the tip of his index finger with his tongue. Feeling no resistance, he continued to lick the wine drops from each finger, staring into Chuuya's eyes. Chuuya stared back at him with his mouth slightly open, almost barely breathing. In the dim light of the kitchen, his eyes looked blue, as deep and dark as the ocean in which Dazai would gladly drown right now.

Gently pulling the fabric on his middle finger, Dazai tried to slowly pull off the glove. Chuuya jerked sharply, looking at his partner with a terrrified look on his face. Dazai, immediately realizing what that was about, soothingly stroked his hand.

"It's okay. I'm here."

And, after waiting for an affirmative nod, he slowly took off his glove. He heard Chuuya's breathing quicken slightly with excitement and squeezed his hand harder in his own, allowing him to feel the cool wave of relief from his ability. Chuuya should know that he is safe with Dazai.

Just like he did few minutes ago, Dazai began to kiss and lick each finger. Chuuya's hands were pale, slightly rough due to a lot of training and fighting, but soft enough. The fingers were long, but not too long, rather thin and bony. Releasing the little finger from his mouth, Dazai, still looking into Chuuya's eyes, gently kissed the open palm and put his hand down on the table, covering it with his own. Chuuya took a sharp breath. Slight blush appeared on his cheeks, either from embarrassment or from alcohol.

Dazai looked at Chuuya expectantly, catching every reaction, but somehow missing the moment when his face was too close to his own. He only realized what was happening when he felt warm lips on his lips. He leaned forward, but Chuuya had already pulled away, cutting off their first kiss. Dazai didn't know if Chuuya had kissed anyone before, but he didn't want to think about it now. Instead, he put his hand on his neck, gently stroking the back of his head and pulling him closer, slowly drawing him into another kiss. This time, Chuuya didn't try to pull away. He answered him willingly, moving closer and burying his fingers in his unruly brown hair, moaning softly into his mouth when Dazai's tongue gently touched his own.

The kiss lasted for a long time and after a while Chuuya found himself sitting on Dazai's lap, greedily biting into his lips and only pulling away for a second to take a breath of saving air. Dazai felt his head begin to spin, and his groin getting heavy with excitement. Chuuya only encouraged him by moving his hips so as to touch the obvious bulge in his pants with his ass. Dazai groaned, biting his lower lip in retaliation and roughly grabbing his hips, abruptly rising from the chair. Chuuya exclaimed in surprise, immediately wrapping his legs and arms around him, holding on tightly while he was carried into the bedroom.

Dazai vaguely could remember the rest of the night. He remembered soft whispers, gentle touches, moans, screams. The moment when he entered Chuuya's body. His eyes were wide open, mouth frozen in a silent scream, swollen lips and perfectly arched back. Then he remembered the creaking of the bed, bare palms clinging convulsively to the sheets, and the feeling of complete bliss.

The next morning, he woke up with a wild headache and a parched throat. The orange light of the rising sun only slightly illuminated the room, which was in a terrible mess after last night. Clothes and underwear were scattered all over the floor, and the carpet in front of the bed was crumpled as if someone had tripped over it (Dazai almost killed them both). Turning his head to the side, he saw Chuuya's back, who was quietly snoring on the other side of the massive bed. The blanket fell off his shoulder, exposing the milky skin, on which the traces of their yesterday's affair were clearly visible. Memories flooded Dazai's thoughts and he let out a desperate moan, covering his face with his hands. There's no way he slept with Chuuya.

That day, he did not wait for the redhead to wake up, quickly leaving the apartment at dawn.

They didn't talk about it the next day. But what Dazai thought should have been a one-time thing, happened many more times.

 

He met with Chuuya almost every week, after work or on weekends, and always spent the night with him. Chuuya didn't mind it at all. Although he complained, he never kicked Dazai out of his apartment and sometimes even came to him himself. He seemed to be satisfied with everything. Dazai was sure that if Chuuya didn't like something, he would just break his nose, so he never took his complaints seriously.

Dazai was also satisfied with this kind of connection between them. It seemed to him that all this was an extremely convenient, because now there was no need to look for a one night stand in bars or clubs with whom he could relieve the tension. His partner was always there, there was no need to woo him. They both enjoyed themselves and, finally, could give free rein to their raging hormones. The situation was favorable for both sides and everything was fine with everyone, so Dazai decided why not. He liked sex with Chuuya, because he satisfied him not only physically, but also aesthetically. Dazai could spend hours looking at the curves of his body, counting the freckles on his shoulders and admiring the contrast of red hair on snow-white sheets. He liked his thin fingers and sharp knees, the slight angularity and deep timbre of his voice. But even more than that he liked Chuuya's size, no matter how strange it might sound. Chuuya's body fit all his requirements. Perfectly narrow waist, petite height, not very wide hips and shoulders. Chuuya's wrists fit perfectly in his hand, and his thin legs fit on his shoulders.

There were no obligations between him and Chuuya, so sometimes Dazai was with other people too. He slept with many men and women, but he didn't really like many of them. Dazai could find certain flaws in all of them: shoulders too broad, hair too dark, eyes not bright enough, too tall or too short. With all these people, Dazai could not stay longer than one night. It was important to him that his partner fit his own taste. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find any blemish in Chuuya. How he could not have noticed before that Chuuya was perfect for his sexual needs. Of course, there was one small problem in the form of Nakahara's unbearable character, but over so many years of working together, Dazai learned to cope with this problem. For several months of such a relationship between them, Dazai almost stopped sleeping with anyone else. He just couldn't stop comparing other people in his bed with Chuuya, so he soon stopped even trying.

Another advantage was that Chuuya didn't demand anything from him and seemed to be satisfied with everything himself. He did not start fights and tantrums in the morning, did not complain that he was being used and all that crap, as many others often did. They never talked about it on the next day, did not wake up together, did not cook each other breakfast and did not take their relationship outside the bedroom. At work, they remained the same, still bickered and teased each other like children, still working together flawlessly. No one in the mafia could even suspect anything, because there was no awkwardness or tension between them. For them, it was just sex and nothing more.

 

The small room was painted a muted orange color, that was emanating from several almost half-burned candles. In the dim light, two figures could be seen on the bed with burgundy sheets.

Dazai was lying on his back, resting his head on the pillows and looking at Chuuya, who was straddling his hips. His hands rested on his partner's thin waist, not squeezing, but only stroking weightlessly. He didn't want to rush Chuuya, but he had been waiting long enough.

"You're sure about this?" he asked again, slightly raising his hips, deliberately rubbing his cock against Chuuya's. He inhaled sharply at the feeling.

"Shut up. I've said it a hundred times already."

And, as if in an attempt to prove his confidence, Chuuya lifted his hips and gently took Dazai's cock in his hand, directing it to the tense ring of muscles. He tried to steady himself, clenching his teeth from an unpleasant feeling of stretching when the head went inside. Chuuya froze, taking a deep breath and lowering his hips down again.

"Relax." Dazai whispered encouragingly, moving his thumbs to his pelvic bones, gently pressing in an attempt to help him lower further.

"Easy for you to say." Chuuya hissed again through clenched teeth, breathing rapidly. He squeezed Dazai's hips quite hard behind his back for support, but Dazai didn't really care, he will probably leave bruises. They won't be visible under the bandages anyway.

Chuuya sank down almost to the middle, when suddenly, with a sharp cry, he suddenly sat down, taking all of Dazai's lenght in one go. He probably accidentally brushed his prostate and his legs stopped holding him because of the sudden pleasure. Chuuya fell on Dazai's chest with a loud groan, clutching the sheets with his fingers. It must have been a little painful for him, because Dazai noticed his eyes glistening with involuntary tears.

Dazai, on the other hand, felt amazing. Everything turned white in front of his eyes from the sudden pleasure between his legs. He groaned in surprise, trying not to move once again, but the hot tightness around his cock prevented him from thinking straight. Chuya was very tight, warm and felt so good that Dazai wanted to start moving right away to release all the pressure. But he was never selfsish in bed, so, with the help of great willpower, he managed to restrain a passionate impulse and buried his hand in red curls, gently stroking.

"Relax, breathe." he murmured in a soothing tone, feeling the trembling of the other's body.

"Fuck, you're so deep." Chuuya's whispered somewhere in the area of his collarbones, where he rested his face, blinking his tears away.

They stayed like that for a while, until Chuuya straightened up, wincing a little from the slightly painful feeling of fullness inside. He swung his hips experimentally, biting his lip in an attempt to restrain a moan that was bursting out.

"You okay?" Dazai asked, clasping his hands around his waist.

After a barely perceptible nod, he threw his hips up, knocking out a loud moan from Chuuya.

"Stop!" he cried out, so desperately that Dazai got scared he hurt him. "I thought we agreed on this. I'll do it myself."

Dazai grinned at these words, but still removed his hands from his waist and leaned back on the pillow, giving Chuuya all the control.

Chuuya lifted his hips, slowly sinking down and up again. After repeating the movement several times and realizing that he no longer felt pain, he began to accelerate the pace. Very soon the room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, loud moans and screams, and the familiar smell of sex appeared in the air.

Every time he sat down, Chuuya hit his prostate, moaning and crying out Dazai's name. He leaned back, arching his back and selflessly moving his hips, getting lost in the feeling. In this position, Dazai could see the outline of his cock through the skin of Chuuya's belly, just below the navel, which made him even more aroused. But he knew he couldn't move and just accepted what Nakahara gave him. The movements on his cock made Dazai throw his head back and very slightly swing his hips towards him, wanting to bring his partner as much pleasure as possible.

Chuuya's hips began to tremble, his movements became more chaotic, he breathed sharply, showing that he was already close to orgasm.

"Dazai!" he groaned. "I'm going to come, ah... kiss…"

He leaned forward without stopping moving his hips, and Dazai crushed their lips in a hungry kiss, feeling Chuuya squeezing him and moaning into his mouth, coming.

Orgasm hit his body, forcing him to continue fucking himself on Dazai's cock to prolong the pleasant feeling. But soon Chuuya stopped, falling wearily on Dazai's chest and trying to catch his breath.

Dazai stroked his head, still feeling his arousal. He didnt't come yet, although he was close. So, after waiting for some time for Chuuya's breath to more or less even out, he flipped them over, making Chuuya lay on his stomach and pulling his ass up to his own groin, forcing him to arch his back like a cat. He leaned against his partner's back with his sweaty chest, bringing the head of his hard head cock to the reddened ring of muscles. Seeing how Chuuya opened his mouth, probably about to resist, Dazai put it in in one swift motion, forcing him to utter a muffled cry and close his eyes.

"Bastard." he breathed out, gasping.

Dazai chuckled.

"I want to cum too, chibi. So just relax and let me make you feel good."

He set a hard pace right away, completely ignoring the muffled sobs from Chuuya when his cock touched his abused prostate, which was now too sensitive due to the overstimulation. But Dazai didn't last long, feeeling his orgasm building up after a few minutes of restlessly fucking into the tight heat of Chuuya's ass. He let his hand slide under Chuuya's stomach, grabbing his neglected cock, which was already hard again, and began roughly jerking him off, in sync with the thrusts, forcing Chuuya to almost scream from pleasure. Soon Dazai froze, pressing his hips tightly against Chuuya's ass, coming deep inside of him and feeling Chuuya's own warm seed on his palm.

He slowly pulled out, flopping down next to Chuuya, who winced unpleasantly at the feeling of warm cum flowing out of him.

"I told you not to come inside. Now I need to take a shower before it dries up."

Chuuya got up so briskly and headed to the bathroom that the only proof that he had just been fucked and forced to have an orgasm twice was only his slightly trembling legs. Dazai was always surprised by his ability to move around so freely after their time together. Years of training, what else was there to say.

Chuuya came out of the shower with only a towel around his hips and began to look for his clothes that were scattered all over the room. Dazai, who had already managed to doze off a little, found Chuuya putting on his underwear and buttoning up his shirt.

"What, are you leaving already? Won't you stay the night?"

Chuuya only gave him a discontented look.

"To wake up next to you? No thanks"

It's true, they never woke up together. Most often, they left right after without staying overnight. Sometimes, when they were too tired, they fell asleep together, but in the morning one of them always found the other half of the bed empty.

Chuuya, fully dressed, glanced at Dazai, who was still lying on the bed.

"Well... see you tomorrow." And he headed for the door.

"Bye, chibi." Dazai muttered after him, hearing the sound of the door slamming shut.

It was just sex.

But something inside him stung painfully at the sight of the empty half of the bed.

 

5. I don't miss him.

 

The rain was pouring, it was chilly and disgusting outside, the cold crept under his clothes, making him shudder every now and then, but Dazai didn't care.

He walked with his head down, not even bothering to brush the wet strands stuck to his forehead and eyes. He didn't really notice where he was going. His vision was clouded, legs were starting to hurt from the long walk, but he didn't stop. He had to see him.

Thanks to the rain, there were not so many people on the street, which saved him from sidelong glances. He crossed ways with an old lady once, but when she saw him, she walked to the other side of the road. Of course, he scared her: blood trickled down his hands in thin streams, mixing with the rain falling to the ground. He was sure that his clothes were also covered in bloodstains, but he didn't want to check.

He walked slowly to the familiar residential complex in a wealthy area of the city. His legs dragged him towards the right house by themselves. The concierge at the entrance gave him a surprised look, but said nothing, letting him pass to the elevators. She had known him for many years, because he came here so often. But today he was sure that he was entering this house for the last time.

He walked out of the elevator on the last floor and walked to the familiar door, pulling out of his pocket spare keys that had been reluctantly handed to him a year ago. The apartment greeted him with silence and darkness. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was already past midnight. He wouldn't be surprised if he found the owner of the apartment asleep.

And indeed, he found Chuuya in the bedroom, sleeping soundly on his massive bed. Only the red top of his head was visible from under the blanket, which was slightly heaving with each quiet breath. Nearby, on the bedside table, there was a box of sleeping pills. So, it won't be easy to wake him up. It was for the best actually, because Dazai didn't know what he would say to Chuuya if he woke up now.

Walking quietly into the bathroom, still without turning on the light, he began to wash his hands. He didn't see much, but he hoped he had washed away most of the blood. He did not want to leave traces on the sink, so that Chuuya, waking up in the morning, would not find out that someone visited him last night.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of water and drank it in one gulp, only now realizing how tired he was. He went out onto the balcony. The rain has already stopped, leaving behind a pleasant smell of ozone and wet ground. Dazai greedily inhaled the cool air, trying to force his thoughts to stop beating chaotically against his skull. He needed to think.

Odasaku was dead. And before he died, he made Dazai promise something. A promise that he must fulfill. Dazai knew that they would be looking for him the next day. He told himself, leaving his friend's body lying in that god forsaken building, that he would leave the mafia once and for all. That he would leave in that very moment, without saying anything to anyone and without saying goodbye to anyone. But his feet carried him to this house by themselves.

Dazai knew he wouldn't change his mind. He won't stay, and Chuuya won't be able to change anything. He didn't even know what happened yet. Dazai wasn't going to regret anything, especially leaving Chuuya behind. But he just had to see him. Even if it was the last time they can be called partners. The last time he comes into this house. And the last time Chuuya doesn't hate him.

As soon as the mafia realizes that he is a traitor, Chuuya will be the first one they'll interrogate. Perhaps they will think that he may be in cahoots with Dazai. They won't leave him alone and Dazai couldn't allow that. Even though he wasn't his partner anymore, he wanted to protect him one last time. Therefore, before entering the building, he did a little work with Chuuya's car. So that Mori would understand that Chuuya has nothing to do with it. Although he knew that Chuuya himself would perceive such a parting gift in a completely different way.

Dazai already had a clear plan of action in his head. He knew where to go and who ask for help. If everything goes according to plan, and in his case it always has, then he will be fine and the mafia will not find him. A few years ago, he found a place where he could “hide", just in case. This was the case.

He silently returned to the bedroom, walking to the bed and sitting down on the floor. This way Chuuya's peaceful face was right in front of his own, giving Dazai the opportunity to count the freckles on his small upturned nose for the last time, take a look at his thick red eyelashes and curly hair and mentally smooth out the crease between his eyebrows. Leaning forward, he left a light, almost weightless kiss on his forehead.

"Goodbye, Chuuya." he mouthed, getting to his feet and heading for the door.

He left his keys in the hallway before going out. He's not coming back here anymore.

 

More than a year has passed since the night Dazai left the Port Mafia. He only recently got a job at the Detective Agency, but has already become famous as the most annoying employee. Kunikida was most annoyed with him. His new partner. He was terribly pedantic and nervous, so it was even more fun to piss him off. He shouted at him, beat him and forced him to do work. He didn't remind Dazai of someone. At all. And his heart didn't ache every time he called Kunikida his partner.

He didn't regret his decision. He liked the agency, and he didn't complain about anything. He had housing and food, vacation pay and good colleagues. He wasn't particularly close to any of them, but he was fine as it was. Sometimes he could sit for hours next to Oda's grave, just talking about something, trying to cope with the ever-fading feeling of grief for his friend, but despite of that, he was fine.

Although Dazai had to admit that he was still missing something. Something small, red and terribly loud. On the first days after escaping from the mafia, he looked out for a red top in a crowd of people by force of habit, only a couple of seconds later realizing that he was not in the mafia headquarters and Chuuya could not be anywhere nearby. In the evenings, when he got bored and felt lonely, he automatically reached for the phone and scrolled through his contact list only to realize that he didn't have Chuuya's number anymore. He knew it by heart, of course, but he never saved it. It didn't matter anyway, he couldn't see anyone from the mafia, and Chuuya would probably just kill him for his betrayal.

Dazai often thought about how he was doing out there without him. Did the voice in his head finally drove him mad, because there was no way to escape it now. Has he grown his hair out or maybe got a little taller. Dazai would like to see him, at least from afar. To make sure that he was fine.

After some time in the agency, he managed to use their connections and found out that Chuuya was sent abroad almost immediately after his departure from the mafia and is still away. This information allowed Dazai to breathe more freely. Now the probability of meeting him on one of the many streets of Yokohama was almost drawn to zero.

Sometimes Dazai allowed himself to walk to the arcade. He never went inside, just looking at the room through the window. A lot has changed here over the years, new equipment has appeared, the building has been repainted. But the slot machine on which fifteen-year-old Dazai and Chuuya played on the day they met was still there, standing in the same place. Dazai smiled at the memory of that day. It was the first time in his life when he actually felt like a child he was. Chuuya gave him this opportunity. It was at this place that Dazai first thought that living might not be so bad.

With Chuuya, he felt somehow special. He always understood him perfectly. He knew Dazai better than anyone in the world, could easily read his thoughts and feelings to figure out how he should act with him today. Kunikida couldn't do that. Dazai believed that was why it was so difficult for him to get used to a life without Chuuya. It was just that it was much easier to do his job with him, without the need to explain his plans and everything.

Dazai assured himself that it was all about work. Soon he will get used to Kunikida and completely forget about his old partner. When he gets used to work with Kunikida, this aching feeling will leave his chest. He was sure of it. It didn't matter that he had no one to call in the evenings. He didn't give a damn about it.

I don't miss him.

But sometimes, in his dreams, he imagined those piercing, bright blue eyes looking at him.

 

+1. Truth.

 

Blinding white walls of the prison hurt his eyes, making them water, but Dazai didn't care.

He couldn't take his eyes off the monitor in front of him, on the screen of which he could see a room that was gradually filling up with dark water. Two people were drowning in this dark water right now. One of which was Nakahara Chuuya.

Chuuya, whom he had known for seven whole years. Chuuya, whom he had pulled out of the clutches of death countless times. Chuuya, who clutched at him convulsively at night, in an attempt to escape the monster who was living inside of him. Chuuya, who covered his wounds with fresh bandages. Chuuya, who refused to drink anything but wine. Chuuya, who trusted his life into his hands every goddamn time. Chuuya, whom he had so shamelessly betrayed.

Chuuya, who was now drowning by his mercy, unable to escape.

Dazai did not pay attention to the aching in his heart that appeared from just looking at the screen. He tried to shut down all of his emotions, knowing that there was no other way. It was his only chance to get rid of Dostoevsky. And if that meant sacrificing Chuuya, Dazai was ready to do it. He couldn't to give up the only opportunity to win.

Right next to him, Sigma was saying something, but Dazai wasn't listening. All his attention was focused on the screen. Taking a deep breath and trying to keep an indifferent expression on his face, he spoke into the microphone:

"Chuuya, this is farewell to you too. It's a shame things turned out like this. Seven years since we first met and we've done nothing but quarrel with each other, but... now that I think about it, there were some moments where we did connect. Like that time…

Moments from the past flashed before his eyes, all of them with Chuuya in the main role. All the words, insults, laughter, touches and smiles. Chuuya filled his life with something that couldn't be given a name.

Now, for the first time in his life, just for a few moments, Dazai was sincere with himself. He looked down, seeing those bright blue eyes, human eyes, in which now one could see only endless resentment, sadness and sorrow. Looking into those eyes, Dazai looked the truth in the face for the first time in all these seven years.

I want to be his partner.

I'm worried about him.

I like his stupid red hair.

It wasn't just sex.

I'm going to miss him.

But instead of all this, Dazai, putting a fake smile on his face, added in a cheerful tone:

"Sorry, there weren't any! Well, then... Goodbye!"

There was only a familiar black hat floating on the surface of the water.