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Dazai was kicking his legs on the bed, a pen tucked behind his ear while he went over his notes for his next class.
From the doorway, Albatross had a perfect view of his bare ass. He toyed with his lip piercing, weighing his options, and shot a quick glance at the wall clock. He wasn’t even sure it showed the right time—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d changed the batteries since moving into that matchbox of an apartment back in August—but he couldn’t care less.
According to that clock, Dazai wouldn’t be leaving for nearly fifty more minutes. A grin crawled up one corner of his mouth and he mentally rubbed his hands together before pushing away from the doorframe and clearing his throat to get the brunet’s attention.
Dazai didn’t react.
He had enough time to climb onto the bed, put his arm around his waist and leave a trail of kisses down his spine until he writhed. Then he would spread his legs and feast on that ass until they ruined the sheets again. Albatross wouldn’t stop until Dazai was nothing but a mess of guttural noises, obscene moans, and whiny little sounds.
If the neighbor knocked on the wall again, it’d be worth it.
He planted a knee on the mattress to pull himself up and flopped onto his side.
“What’s a handsome guy like you doing in a place like this?”
Dazai twisted his mouth. Slowly, he lowered his notes and shot him a long, bored stare—the same one he saved for situations he found truly irritating. Albatross loved that look. He didn’t always; at first it got on his nerves and made his blood boil, because Dazai had that spoiled-rich-kid energy, and the bad habit of looking down his nose at everyone else like the rest of them were disgusting bugs in his way.
Albatross leaned in and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. Then he traced Dazai’s cheek with his knuckles. But yeah, he’d grown fond of that look of disgust. He tilted his head and grabbed Dazai by the chin. Dazai arched a brow, and Albatross reveled in the indifference. He loved twisting that expression into something new, and it turned him on, if he was honest.
He was willing to try degradation for that bastard.
Dazai pulled away and flopped onto his stomach, limbs spread like a starfish.
Well.
“Not in the mood to unwind, dude?” Albatross asked, genuinely confused. Dazai didn’t reply, at least not with words. Sometimes the guy was a nightmare to communicate with. “Shower blowjob? Missionary?”
Dazai wrinkled his nose.
Albatross’s eyes went wide.
“Shit, man! Sorry! Are you just… not feeling it?”
He wasn’t the most eloquent person in the world. Sue him for finishing high school and scraping by with temp jobs. And frankly, he had no idea how to phrase it without sounding offensive, but he’d been hooking up with Dazai since October. Dazai had a peculiar libido.
Lipp would have been shocked by his choice of words, but they weren’t here to judge him.
Albatross poked his cheek to get his attention, and Dazai tried to bite his finger. Not surprising. Sometimes Dazai was in the mood, and when someone caught his attention, he turned insatiable. Albatross had ended up with a sore dick last time. He knew what he was talking about, thank you very much.
But that wasn’t always the case. Months ago, Dazai had explained it with a ridiculously pompous metaphor, and Albatross had responded by throwing the game controller at him so they could play a few rounds instead.
It must’ve been a decent answer if they were still here now.
A sudden uncomfortable twinge jabbed through his chest. Albatross frowned, rubbing the spot with confusion. Was he having a heart attack? Shouldn’t his arm hurt if that were the case? He wasn’t sure.
Dazai rolled over and rested on top of him, arms crossed and chin propped on his forearms. Albatross held back a smile. Sometimes, the guy really did remind him of the stray cat that prowled around the building. Always alert, always curious. And always distrustful.
He’d gotten used to that look too—the analytical one, the one that cut through your soul. Albatross set a hand on Dazai’s head. He was like a very annoying cat; he came and went as he pleased, and there was nothing Albatross could do—or wanted to do—to keep him.
And that was fine. Really.
“I miss my dumb Slug.”
Oh.
Oh.
His heart came to a dead stop before speeding up again. Dazai didn’t say anything else. His amber eyes stayed fixed on him, unmoving and hungry for every tiny reaction. Albatross swallowed. He was expressive as hell; everything showed on his face, but he hoped he was managing something neutral.
The first time Dazai mentioned his Slug had been in the middle of a blowjob. Albatross hadn’t thought much of it—though it was weird. Who mentioned a pet during the best blowjob in existence? Later, Dazai had been sprawled on the couch, pants around his knees, Albatross cleaning his thighs with a wipe and a joint dangling from his lips, when the guy had planted the first of many little thorns.
“Slug ran away.”
Not exactly earth-shattering, but it froze Albatross on the spot, and Dazai kept complaining. Maybe it was five seconds, maybe more or less, before Dazai snapped him out of it by sitting up and demanding he climb on top of him because he needed more but didn’t know what yet.
Had Dazai ever found that “more”? Doubtful. The guy was demanding and needy, but he kept his distance and bit if you got too close.
Just like now.
It took him a while to piece things together, and Albatross had been fine with a fling who missed his ex. He was a free soul, relationships only worked on TV, and the only bonds he wanted to keep were the ones he had with his friends.
He’d been fine with what they had until Dazai said he wanted his ex back.
The burn in his chest intensified, something clogging his throat. He took a swig from his water bottle, but it didn’t help. Not when Dazai kissed him and tugged on his piercing with his teeth, not when Dazai left and he could smoke something stronger than a cigarette.
He rubbed his chest, trying to loosen the knot forming there.
It made no sense.
Fine, Dazai would go back to his ex, and they wouldn’t hook up anymore. Fine, there were plenty of fish in the sea.
Speaking of fish…
He glanced around the room, ignored the roll of bandages on his nightstand, and smiled brightly when he found his phone on the floor next to his underwear.
He opened Chuuya’s chat.
Nothing calmed his restless mind like his favorite redhead.
Chuuya replied immediately.
“How many holes does—?” Albatross loved greeting him with nonsense just to mess with him because Chuuya was still hilariously innocent. Chuuya would shriek, back away from wherever he was, and whisper-yell at him.
His heart warmed and his smile softened at the edges.
Chuuya was special, all the Flags were.
“What the hell is wrong with you!?”
Albatross climbed up to the windowsill. It wasn’t a balcony or a window, something in between. The air was cold, winter coming in long strides, freezing the tip of his nose.
“Want to grab beers and go bowling?”
Chuuya went silent. Albatross didn’t mind. He was the smart one, studying at some prestigious university, legally obsessed with chemicals, but still the same scrawny kid who growled and bared his teeth.
Chuuya sighed in defeat.
“Fine,” he relented, and a pleasant shiver ran down Albatross’s spine. Chuuya had this velvety, rough voice that made everything sound obscene. “But don’t drag me into trouble. I gotta wake up early tomorrow, and I’m not going to class hungover.”
“Beer doesn’t give you hangovers, babygirl.”
“Say that again.”
Albatross wet his lips and adjusted himself inside his jeans.
“Damn, Chuuya, don’t say stuff like that… You’ll make me blush.”
“Ha!? You’re a freaking pervert!”
Albatross burst out laughing.
“You’re too easy to mess with,” he snorted, wiping tears from his eyes. “Want me to pick you up on my bike?”
He’d never really considered hooking up with one of his best friends. Don’t get him wrong, part of their friendship was toeing the line. Albatross had fooled around with Lipp and P., and done worse with Doc. Iceman was uncharted territory, and he had a peculiar relationship with another redhead, and sure, biting his jugular sounded fun, but Albatross valued his balls.
But Chuuya was special.
“I’ll pick you up,” Chuuya shot back.
That was the problem.
“If you wanted me to hold you tight, Chuu, you could’ve just said so.”
“Argh, I hate you.”
“I love you too, babygirl.”
Albatross was sprawled on the floor with his legs thrown over the couch and a bowl of cheese puffs resting on his stomach. He was tossing them in the air and catching them in his mouth while Chuuya told him how things had gone at the lab and how badly he’d done on his last exam.
It was a lie. Probably.
His best friend had the nasty habit of assuming the worst about himself. He overworked, always ready to lend a hand to anyone who needed it, and then instead of giving himself a pat on the back, he just shrugged it off. The guy could save a cat from the top of a tree, help a poor old lady cross the street, and pull a double shift at Black Lizard all on the same day, and afterward he’d only think about how he didn’t study enough, messed up someone’s order, or fell asleep in class.
That’s how much of an idiot he was.
But he’d been like that ever since he rescued him from the street. Well, rescued might not be the best word. The redhead would probably beat him up for suggesting such blasphemy. Truth was, they didn’t exactly have the best first-meeting-in-the-history-of-first-meetings. Albatross snorted at the memory. He had always been a magnet for trouble. Flirting with Chuuya’s friend hadn’t been his brightest move. But she was pretty and Albatross had raging hormones, so he didn’t really think about the consequences.
He tossed another cheese puff; it hit his nose and rolled across the carpet.
Thing is, he ended up having to deal with the Sheep, who were led by a short redhead with anger issues. He shook his head, nostalgic. The redhead punched him in the nose—wrecking his own wrist and ruining Albatross’s pointy nose forever—but in exchange they forged an unbreakable friendship.
“What the hell are you laughing at?”
“You’ve got a green booger hanging.”
“What!?” he squawked in horror, covering his nose. Albatross burst out laughing and hugged the guy so hard that he covered him in cheese puffs. “You’re the worst!”
Chuuya chucked a pillow at his head.
From that day on, Albatross became a nightmare, and Chuuya—who even back then was physically incapable of saying no to any stray animal—just huffed, threatened him a couple of times (not that he meant it), and took him under his wing. And thank God he did, because a couple of months later the Sheep stabbed him in the back and Albatross had to pick up the pieces of his broken heart.
And steal a can of gasoline, but that was a story he wouldn’t tell without his lawyer present.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Albatross parted his lips to shoot back a reply—there was a joke sitting right there on the tip of his tongue—but he shut up the moment he saw Chuuya furiously typing on his phone. He pouted and collected the remaining cheese puffs from the floor.
He shoved a handful into his mouth before climbing onto the couch.
“Stupid asshole,” Chuuya muttered, hunched over. Albatross sat behind him, trapping the redhead between his legs, and rested his chin on top of his head.
“Mackerel?” he asked, confused, and the little bit he managed to read only confused him more. Along with an absurd number of meaningless emojis, there were even more ridiculous messages. It was a deranged conversation. “Who is this guy?”
“My boyfriend,” Chuuya answered without thinking, and then a second later he shrieked loud enough to burst out an eardrum. He pulled away from Albatross, almost sliding off the couch, and shot him a murderous glare. His cheeks flushed a striking shade of red. “My ex. He… It’s complicated.”
“You’re seeing your ex again?”
Chuuya had had several partners: boys and girls lucky enough to earn a special place in the redhead’s heart. None of them lasted. Chuuya had a habit of molding himself to whatever they wanted, and that never ended well.
“What?” he recoiled, horrified. “No, not a chance.”
“But you two are texting,” Albatross pointed out hesitantly, doing it slowly, like he was speaking to a kid who didn’t understand why bedtime existed. He lifted his hands in surrender when Chuuya squinted. “Dude, I think it’s awesome, really, I believe in the power of friendship, but…”
Chuuya always reacted the same way after a breakup: he isolated himself and cut ties, blaming himself and punishing himself for not being “enough.” He never contacted them again, and if they crossed paths, the most they shared was a polite greeting or a few kind words.
Except…
There was only one person capable of crawling under Nakahara Chuuya’s skin like that and living to tell the tale. Albatross didn’t know him personally—the relationship hadn’t lasted long, and for some reason Chuuya never introduced them—but he knew enough about the guy to bet his favorite bike that he’d come back someday.
And here he was.
Lippmann had called it a tumultuous relationship.
“It’s… It’s complicated, okay?”
Albatross grimaced. He hated complicated—complicated always went wrong. The first time someone had said those forbidden words to him, Tross had been just a kid, and the woman who said it could’ve been his mother by blood, but she turned out to be a disaster in every sense of the word.
Math was complicated, taxes were complicated. Being a functional adult was fucking complicated. Chuuya and him usually weren’t, but suddenly it all felt like that: suffocating, overwhelming… And he heard himself say, “Do you want to talk about it?” when what he really wanted was to dunk his head in the toilet and flush.
Chuuya pulled his legs in and buried his face between his knees, hiding from the world.
“I miss him,” he confessed in a thread of a voice, and the sadness soaking his words knocked him off balance. Chuuya turned his face toward him. “But he makes everything complicated. And it should be easy, you know? I love him and I know he loves me, but it’s been a damn spiral since the moment we met… Why does Dazai always have to screw everything up?”
“Dazai?”
Chuuya ran a hand through his hair in frustration, rambling on, completely unaware of the bomb he’d just dropped. Complaints and insults poured out of his mouth with enviable ease. He was alive, his eyes shining—a spark of fury had caught fire—and his heart—big, covered in band-aids—seemed to be everywhere at once. It beat hard and wild, and it beat for Dazai.
But Albatross couldn’t focus, his head was buzzing and nothing made sense. His ex was named Dazai? Since when?
And suddenly he was holding Chuuya’s phone, and Dazai—the same Dazai, the one and only Dazai in this whole damn story—was sticking his tongue out at him from the other side of the screen. Jesus. He tried to remember, he tried to recall the last time Chuuya mentioned his ex, the guy with the ridiculous nicknames, the roommate he shared a dorm with, but no matter how hard he tried, aside from the taste of ash in his mouth, he found nothing.
He got to his feet and stumbled forward, and although he thought he heard a weak “’Tross?” he didn’t stop until he reached the bathroom. His hands were shaking and his head was spinning, but he managed to shut the door and lean against the cold wood.
It couldn’t be the same Dazai, right?
Dazai was a literature major, or some pretentious crap like that. He didn’t dress like someone who lived in a damn dorm, and he definitely wasn’t the kind of person who would willingly set foot on a nerd-campus, right?
It was a common name.
“And what about the damn photo?” he spat. “Maybe he has a twin, right?”
Yeah. That had to be it.
He grabbed a fistful of his hoodie, digging his nails into his chest, and took a deep breath. He tried to sync his breathing the way P. had taught him, but it only made everything worse.
Chuuya always yielded to his partners, becoming whatever he thought they needed until he met Dazai, and suddenly he was fierce, selfish, generous, all at once, not hiding, not pretending. And had Albatross ruined all that?
His eyes dropped to the tiny cabinet under the sink. He fell to the floor, yanked the door open, and dumped everything out, searching for something—anything—that would help quiet his mind. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. From far away, like his head was underwater, he thought he heard someone calling him and pounding on the door.
He grabbed a bottle, turned it over, and almost screamed. It was fucking vitamins. He threw it aside and counted to ten. Tried to focus on five things he could see, five things he could—
More pounding.
“Albatross, open the damn door or I swear—!”
He brought his hands to his head, tugged at his hair until it hurt. Slug. Mackerel. Dazai.
The door slammed against the wall, and he barely had time to react before Chuuya burst in like a hurricane, his very presence swallowing everything whole. And before he could say anything, maybe apologize, Chuuya punched him and then wrapped his arms around him.
“Breathe with me,” he pleaded.
Albatross clung to him and let the cadence of his voice—the panic and desperation that pulsed trough his messy words—sink into his bones.
He didn’t deserve it.
But he was selfish, and he felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. They curled up together on the couch with a bad movie playing in the background, bundled under a blanket. Chuuya didn’t ask questions, and Albatross couldn’t say a single word. When he heard the first snores, he slipped out of his hold and stepped onto the small balcony. He patted down his pockets and lit a cigarette. His phone vibrated, and without thinking, he opened the notification.
It was a message from Dazai.
not_longer_human: where are my tiktoks, birdbrain? our son’s still frozen
And he shouldn’t laugh—he didn’t have the strength—but somehow Dazai managed to pull a half-smile out of him. He wet his lips and glanced inside the apartment. From there he couldn’t see the redhead, curled up on his couch, but he felt him rooted deep in his chest.
Just like a certain bandaged idiot.
“I’m screwed, huh?”
Lippmann gave him a friendly squeeze on the shoulder, trying to cheer him up. Iceman shook his head, disbelief carving its way across his features until they looked almost distorted. Piano Man, on the other hand, seemed unbothered except for the small crease between his brows.
Albatross glanced between the three of them while twisting his fingers under the table.
“What?” he demanded, his voice too high-pitched, and he tore off a hangnail by accident. He held back a hiss of pain and shoved the finger into his mouth. Then he slapped on a light little smile—one that screamed everything was fine. “It’s a good plan.”
Iceman snorted, shook his head for the fifth time in ten seconds, ran a hand through his hair, and pointed at him. His mouth parted, and Albatross straightened in his seat, ready for the reprimand—ready to catch it in his hands, twist it, and turn it into a joke, because the alternative clawed at his guts and tightened around his throat—but Iceman just shook his head again, defeated, and lowered his arm.
“I don’t believe this,” was all he said, and he didn’t even sound angry.
Albatross flipped him off but grew nervous under Piano Man’s penetrating stare. It was unreadable. His friend rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. P. was the backbone of the group. Desperate now, squirming in his seat as if he had ants in his underwear, Albatross looked for help.
Lippmann curved his lips into a small, reassuring smile, but whatever Albatross read in those pale eyes had the opposite effect.
He’d definitely screwed up.
“It’s a good plan,” he insisted, tripping over the words, and his voice cracked at the end. If his friends noticed—if they sensed the flicker of fear hiding in his words—they didn’t mention it.
Albatross dug into his bag, rummaged around, and let out a triumphant squeak when he found it. He dropped three little toy soldiers onto the table. He never had any growing up, so he hadn’t hesitated to buy them when he saw them at a thrift market. It had been an impulsive buy, a silly little indulgence for the kid who used to make up stories late at night to drown out adult voices, who pretended that the sticks on the street were light sabers, the stones marbles, and milk cartons race cars.
He swallowed to get rid of the lump in his throat and blinked rapidly to chase away the tears forming between his lashes. He forced his smile wider—fake and plastic—like tugging at the corners of his mouth could erase everything crawling under his skin.
Carefully, he set the toy soldiers in place; one had a tiny bandage, another had a Monopoly hat glued to its head, and the third didn’t belong in the equation at all.
Albatross leaned back to appreciate his work.
“It’s a good plan,” he repeated, mostly to convince himself.
Piano Man let out a defeated sigh; his shoulders slumped, and the unshakable facade he wore with cold, calculated elegance shattered.
“So you’re sleeping with Chuuya’s ex.”
Albatross bit down on his lower lip.
“Okay, said like that it sounds bad, I’ll admit, but I already explained that—”
“How did it happen?” Lippmann asked beside him. There was no malice in his words or expression. Still, even knowing his friends weren’t judging him, Albatross felt cornered.
So he did the only thing he knew how to do.
He flashed a fleeting little grin and shrugged it off.
“Well, you know… the flower, the pollen, the bee… Only with an ass and a—”
Iceman shut his mouth with a sharp smack on the table and a glare that could bury a man.
“If Chuuya sheds a single tear…” he warned in a low hiss.
“…it’ll be the apocalypse, Armageddon,” Albatross finished for him, managing to sound bored, like it wasn’t that big a deal. He settled back and tapped his fingers on the table to recapture their attention. He wasn’t here to be torn apart or reminded of the mess he’d gotten into. He just wanted… “Can we focus? Chuuya’s got a terrible temper, he’ll break my face if he finds out I hooked up with his ex, and Dazai… Well, I don’t want to experience his bad side, okay?”
“I don’t want to know,” Iceman cut him off.
Albatross rolled his eyes, “Boring.”
“No nonsense,” Piano Man warned with a stern look that softened, tinted with something almost too warm and honest for Albatross’ comfort. “Alright. We’re listening. From the beginning.”
Iceman leaned a hip against P.’s chair.
“From the beginning?” he echoed, unsure what they expected to gain from this. He lowered his head; the two toy soldiers he’d paired didn’t seem like they should fit, but somehow they did in a way he couldn’t grasp. He grabbed the extra one. “I was fighting with my bike again, and Dazai was just… standing there with one of those giant lollipops in his hand, and we just stared at each other and…”
It had been a ridiculous image: a lanky man wrapped in bandages, wearing a beige sweater, hair clipped with a pink barrette, round glasses, and a damn giant lollipop. He would’ve laughed at the guy’s appearance if fixing that bike hadn’t cost him a fortune, only for the engine to act up again.
He didn’t kick the bike, didn’t throw a tantrum, because the stranger was watching him with a playful glint in his eyes and the faintest curve of a smile. He looked like trouble, and he was. Dazai—who wasn’t Dazai yet, just a scruffy rich kid with a shadow hanging over him—walked up to him, parted his lips, and knocked his world off balance.
Albatross felt his cheeks burn, slapped himself lightly to focus, and shook his head.
How it happened didn’t matter.
“It’s irrelevant. It happened, end of story,” he declared, ignoring the sting in his side. All of them.
What mattered was what would happen next.
“I’m gonna play matchmaker.”
“They don’t pay me enough for this,” Iceman muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Albatross ignored him—ignored the swarm of bees making a home in his gut these past few days, the pressure in his chest, everything—and rushed to explain his rom-com-worthy plan.
He wasn’t a big fan of romance, but he’d gotten hooked on those dumb American movies after watching so many. At first, he tolerated them just to tease Chuuya—whose eyes always turned red from holding back tears, who stared at the screen wide-eyed and curled around a pillow—and later because there was something about them.
They were predictable.
They could be messy or unbelievably simple, but the protagonists always found their way back to each other. Love triumphed over adversity, misunderstandings, third parties, and distance. Ridiculous in real life, sure, but there was a certain charm to it.
Piano Man raised a hand to silence him, and Albatross pouted. He’d spent days without sleeping or eating properly, orchestrating the plan—he even made a PowerPoint presentation—and his friends couldn’t give him a couple of minutes?
Either he spilled everything before it overwhelmed him or he’d explode.
“And what about you?”
“Me?” he blinked, surprised.
“It’s insane,” Lippmann stressed gently, like they were afraid of stepping on a land mine. Albatross frowned, and P. and Lipp exchanged a worried look. “So the plan is to get them back together?”
“I’ll be the best man at their wedding, and we’ll laugh about this during the speech.”
P. grimaced.
“I’m fine,” Albatross repeated, and his heart beat so hard he feared it would punch a hole through his chest and escape.
Lipp sat beside him and placed a hand on his knee. Albatross wrinkled his nose.
“Y’sure?”
“What’s your problem?” he snapped, frustrated.
Even Iceman was looking at him with pity.
Albatross focused on the toy soldiers again and clutched the extra one until his knuckles went pale. A tear rolled down his cheek—hot and wrong—and Albatross nodded to himself.
“I’ll fix it. I promise.”
December was the month of miracles, right?
It was overcast, temperatures had plummeted overnight, and the air was thick with humidity. He shielded himself from the cold by burrowing into his coat and leaning close to the shop window. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, rocking back on his heels. Chuuya was running late. Albatross searched for his own reflection in the glass and adjusted his hair with quick fingers.
He felt someone watching him, a sensation that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. When he lifted his head, he found himself staring into the amused eyes of the redhead, and his heart skipped a beat in surprise. He flashed a cocky little grin to undermine the nerves that suddenly flooded him, then turned around to face his best friend.
“Finally gracing me with your presence, Your Highness,” he teased, giving him a good once-over: combat boots, tight jeans, and his iconic worn-out leather jacket. His strawberry-blond waves were tied back in a low ponytail, and he’d done his eyeliner. Albatross swallowed. “You look hot.”
“Ha!? What the hell?” Chuuya recoiled, scandalized. He tugged on his jacket and buried his nose in his scarf to hide the flush spreading across his cheeks. The scarf was huge, pale yellow or maybe beige, and it looked soft. Albatross held himself back from reaching out to touch it. Chuuya arched a brow, a silent question flickering in his eyes. “Don’t be weird, dammit.”
Albatross shrugged, ignoring the tingle running through his fingertips. He didn’t know where the impulse came from, but suddenly he wanted to reach out, take Chuuya’s wrist, slide down to his palm, interlace their fingers, and give a soft squeeze.
He didn’t get the chance to react. Completely unaware of the turmoil brewing inside the blond, Chuuya stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and jerked his chin to tell him to hurry up.
Disappointment tasted bitter.
“Where are we going?”
Albatross dropped his stare to his sneakers and kicked a pebble. Chuuya didn’t push. He stepped closer and nudged him with his elbow to get his attention. When their eyes met, when Albatross drowned in the blue and brown of his gaze, the urge to confess nearly overwhelmed him.
He swallowed it whole, but apparently not well enough, because Chuuya’s lips twitched, and the flicker of doubt crossing his face did nothing to ease the nerves coiled tight inside Albatross’s stomach.
“’Tross, is everything okay?” he asked carefully.
No. Not even close.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Albatross chirped, hooking his arm through Chuuya’s and tugging him down the street. Their destination wasn’t far, tucked away in a very narrow alley. “Don’t you trust me?”
Chuuya rolled his eyes. He didn’t look convinced.
“I trust you but…”
You shouldn’t.
And before Chuuya could continue—before he could give shape to the doubts dancing in his eyes or put into words the nerves eating Albatross alive—the blond pressed a finger to his lips and winked.
“No buts!”
Chuuya swatted his hand away.
“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, annoyed, but lacking his usual bite as if he didn’t feel annoyed at all. He was smiling, not with his mouth but with his eyes, with his whole body. Chuuya leaned into him, their bodies pressing together like they were made to fit, and why shouldn’t they be? They’d known each other since they were kids. “What are we even doing in this neighborhood?”
His joy cracked around the edges.
“It’s a secret,” Albatross replied mysteriously, and Chuuya squinted. “I said trust me!”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
He did, in fact, make him regret it.
The second-hand bookstore was hidden at the end of a dead-end alley. Ivy had grown over the entire sign and wedged itself into the worn stone. The step leading into the shop was tall and slippery with age. And the windows were so filthy it was impossible to see inside.
Albatross felt a stab under his ribs when his friend staggered back, pale as a ghost. He looked terrified.
“Why did you bring me here?”
Chuuya had been here before. Of course he had.
“Why not? You like poetry,” Albatross said, masking the bitterness soaking into his bones with a light tone.
Chuuya glanced at him, eyes wide as saucers. He was so shaken by the turn of events that he didn’t even notice the strain in Albatross’s voice, the tension in his shoulders, or how fragile his mask was.
It stung, strangely.
“Sure, but… we could’ve gone to the mall.”
“Come on, what’s the problem? There aren’t any ghosts here waiting to bite your ass,” Albatross teased without malice, slinging an arm around his shoulders to nudge him forward. Chuuya stumbled, and the murderous look he shot over his shoulder was cut short by the jingle of the welcome bell.
Stacks of books towered from floor to ceiling in precarious piles that a single breeze could topple, and the shelves were crammed full, zigzagging through the store. Albatross unbuttoned the top of his coat and tugged at his sweater collar to cool down. Chuuya also looked out of place there, his shoulders hunched as if he wanted to shrink away and vanish and his eyes darting everywhere.
The place was suffocating.
But the soft scent of cinnamon filling the air eased the tension gripping his nerves. He kept a polite distance from the redhead as they ventured deeper into the store. No one greeted them, and the forest of book stacks made it hard to get their bearings, but both of them followed the trail of that intense cinnamon aroma.
Or maybe that was just another illusion slipping through his fingers, some stupid sentimentality he’d have to tear out of himself or drown in cheap beer, because chances were Chuuya did know his way around this place.
“This is a terrible idea,” Chuuya muttered, and Albatross bumped into him. He placed his hands on Chuuya’s shoulders to steady himself. His friend tried to turn, gripping his coat, and shot him a desperate look he tried to hide.
A little farther ahead was what seemed to be the counter, also buried in books. No sign of anyone. Albatross couldn’t tell if what he felt was relief or disappointment.
“It smells like wet dog in here. Gross!”
His heart stammered.
“Odasaku, we’ve got a stray chihuahua—!” Dazai’s voice cut off abruptly. Any trace of genuine amusement dissolved like sugar the moment he rounded the shelf and found the two of them.
Dazai tilted his head.
The silence would have been suffocating if Chuuya hadn’t barked out something furious, bright red with anger. Dazai blinked, and the brief confusion on his face shifted into a playful smile. His eyes crinkled toward Chuuya, and his whole body seemed to orbit around him, drawn in by some invisible force.
They bickered like they were twelve, and with each exchange Albatross felt more out of place. He backed away, watching as Dazai and Chuuya collided; insults and bravado spilling from their mouths with effortless familiarity. But it was the warmth in their faces, the ease with which they danced around each other, that punched a hole through Albatross’s chest.
He stumbled and hurried to catch a small stack of books before he caused a disaster.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Chuuya squawked, rushing over to help steady the pile.
Dazai crossed his arms and leaned his hip against a shelf, pouting. “You’re getting feathers everywhere, Magpie.”
Albatross flipped him off, and Dazai snorted. If Chuuya was surprised by the nickname, or by how casually Dazai used it, he didn’t comment.
Silence settled over the bookstore, broken only by the hum of the heater. Chuuya shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and buried his nose in his scarf. A few strands had escaped his ponytail, falling across his face, and Dazai’s eyes didn’t miss a thing. They ran over him eagerly, like he was afraid to forget.
Albatross shook his head, stuffing those overly romantic thoughts deep, deep down. He parted his lips, the excuse he’d practiced in front of the mirror, in the elevator, on the train, and while waiting for Chuuya sitting heavy on the tip of his tongue.
He didn’t get the chance to form it—to offer that apologetic smile, hands raised in surrender for when Chuuya processed what he was saying and realized the blond had to leave right now. Dazai raised a suspicious brow, and Chuuya lifted his eyes from his shoes.
It was too easy.
Not the excuse—he had to swallow that one whole and let it take root in his stomach. It was too easy, the way they understood each other. One look, blue and brown meeting amber—and suddenly Albatross was being swept into a plan that should’ve been his, but slipped right through his fingers the moment he tried to grab it.
“I’ll clean up and we can go,” Dazai said, nodding toward the counter. Chuuya nodded. “Should I grab Odasaku’s keys?”
“Let you drive?” Chuuya looked horrified. Then he shook his head, grabbed Albatross by the wrist like he might try to escape, and held out his free hand toward Dazai. “I’m driving.”
A little smirk, a dangerous glint. Chuuya answered with a low growl, a silent warning that rattled inside Albatross like a broken drum.
“Can you even reach the pedals?” Dazai taunted.
“If I break your legs, I won’t have to.”
Dazai pouted.
“Brute,” he whined.
“Sue me.”
Dazai sighed, shoulders slumping, fishing through his pockets until he found the keys. He stared at them longingly—way too dramatically—then tossed them to Chuuya. Hard. And aimed high. Blushing furiously, Chuuya caught them and shot him a murderous glare.
“Don’t take long,” he warned. “Don’t make me come drag your bandaged ass out, or Odasaku’s gonna need a new part-timer.”
“Kinky.”
“What was that?” Chuuya hissed.
Dazai straightened and saluted, much to Chuuya’s utter disbelief. His survival instincts were clearly missing in action. Chuuya clicked his tongue, more amused than annoyed, and dragged Albatross toward the door. Outside, rain hammered the asphalt, the whole city blurred in fog. Not exactly the ideal weather for a rom-com-worthy date, Albatross thought while Chuuya cursed like a trucker beside him but it would have to do.
“Where the hell is that junk heap?”
“Huh?”
Chuuya didn’t answer. His face lit up when he spotted something and he triumphantly doubled back the way they’d come. Albatross took a moment to study him. Chuuya waved for him to hurry, and Albatross twisted his mouth. He could feel Dazai’s piercing stare on the back of his neck. A shiver crawled up his spine. It wouldn’t be now, while closing the distance between him and his best friend, or later, watching those two fight over the radio, or while waiting for the waitress. It would be much later, alone in his apartment, after loosening the stiffness in his muscles with a hot shower, that he’d realize none of them had bothered introducing themselves.
The date had been a disaster of epic proportions. Chuuya and Dazai spent most of the time fighting over nonsense, trading insults, elbowing or kicking each other. It was entertaining to watch—and confusingly painful—but Albatross was determined to make it work.
He stepped out of the shower with a towel draped over his shoulders. His phone buzzed nonstop on the mattress. Too many notifications. His heart jumped when he realized those two idiots had made a group chat.
Why? Why?
chuu❤️🔥: muting this
pretty ass: are you teasing me??? (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ
chuu❤️🔥: ugh, you’re unbearable
pretty ass: chibiiii~ give me a kiss ( ˘ ³˘)♥
chuu❤️🔥: how about a kick to the balls
chuu❤️🔥: one weird comment and you’re blocked
pretty ass: booo (｡•́︿•̀｡)
pretty ass: MAGPIE SEND HELP
“I’ll make it work.” he promised himself.
Failed date after failed date piled up one after another, and there was nothing Albatross could do to stop it. His frustration only grew, swelling until it was overwhelming. How was it possible that those two idiots always found a way to drag him along as the third wheel every damn time? It was annoying and worse, as the days passed and a stupid little smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the nerves of being found out gnawed a hole straight through his stomach.
He raked a hand through his hair in pure exasperation and swallowed down a groan. He braced his elbows on his spread knees and pressed his chin against his interlaced fingers. The last date had been a spectacular failure, and just remembering it made his ears burn and the bees in his stomach buzz furiously. He shut his eyes, and the image of a stunned Chuuya—eyes wide, horror twisting his features—hit him like a wrecking ball.
“Argh! Stop!”
He slid down the couch and hugged one of the cushions, burying his face in it while his mind jumped from Chuuya’s shocked expression to the guilty little smirk of the culprit. It had happened so fast, one moment they were lying in a park with a random ball they’d found, and the next, a police officer was shouting at them.
They had no idea what was going on, except Dazai judging by the playful glint in his amber eyes and the small curve of his mouth. Chuuya cursed under his breath and, without hesitation, grabbed Dazai by the elbow and yanked him to get him moving.
There was no reason to run—they hadn’t committed a crime—but instinct kicked in. Albatross froze where he stood, ball in hand. Chuuya yelled at him, but before he could process anything, Dazai grabbed him too, and the three of them took off downhill. Later—legs aching, lungs raw, jaw sore from laughing—hiding behind some bushes, Dazai confessed.
“I might’ve lied earlier,” he admitted casually, rolling onto his back and resting his head in Chuuya’s lap as he gestured wildly. “But it was sooo worth it!”
Chuuya pinched his arm. Dazai squirmed, whining dramatically, and looked to Albatross for help with an exaggerated pout. Albatross just flicked his wrist dismissively, he wanted no part in their nonsense.
“You’re both boring,” Dazai huffed, kicking his feet.
“Keep your voice down unless you want us to get caught, bastard.”
And at the same time, Albatross asked, “Why did we run?”
“What the hell did you do this time?” Chuuya pressed.
“I maaay have said I had tickets for the park, and maaaybe, just maybe, that was a lie,” Dazai said, playing with a stray blade of grass.
“WE SNUCK IN!?”
“A park with an entry fee? Damn parasites.”
Dazai opened his mouth—some stupid excuse ready to go—but Albatross couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of him. Capitalism really had no limits. Chuuya shook his head and hid his smile, or laugh, behind his hand. Dazai propped himself up on one elbow and winked at them.
“It was fun,” he insisted, mischievous. Albatross sprawled out on the grass, stretching his limbs, and Dazai reached over to tug his hair. “Come on, just admit it.”
“You’re the worst,” Chuuya muttered.
“And you love me for it,” Dazai sang.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” the redhead shot back.
His heart tightened, or maybe it was later, when the sky turned orange and the temperature began to drop.
“Come here, Magpie,” Dazai demanded. “Chuuya’s a space heater.”
Albatross went perfectly still. Chuuya was carding a hand through Dazai’s hair, a soft smile hiding at the corner of his eyes, and Dazai was struggling to stay awake. They should’ve left already—Albatross had been thinking that for a while—but the thought sat heavy and bitter on his tongue. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.
Dazai pouted, still wrapped in Albatross’s jacket, and Chuuya let out a tiny laugh.
Was it cold, or was the cold inside him?
“You two look happy,” he blurted out.
Heat spread over both their faces, igniting their eyes. He couldn’t read them—too different, too full of things he didn’t dare name. It was overwhelming. They were overwhelming.
“Ha?!” Chuuya squawked, mortified, shoving Dazai off of him.
Albatross yanked the hood of his hoodie over his head, hiding from Dazai’s probing stare. He was being way too quiet.
“Invite me to your wedding,” he heard himself say. It sounded bitter, but maybe that was just in his head. His heart thundered loud enough to drown everything out.
“To his funeral, you mean!” Chuuya shot back, standing as he brushed moss off his pants.
Dazai pulled a face.
“Absolutely not. I don’t want the drool of an angry chihuahua in my grave.”
“And why the hell would I drool on you!?”
“Oh? So Chuuya admits he’s an angry chihuahua.”
“I’m going to gut you, you rotten fish!”
“Chuuya has to catch me first, can those tiny legs keep up?”
The memory slipped through his fingers like sand just as his phone began vibrating like crazy. He sighed, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, and twisted around to grab his phone from the waistband of his sweats. His stomach dropped when he read the latest messages.
chuu ❤️🔥: wanna game tonight?
chuu ❤️🔥: on discord
pretty ass: REPO? (＠＾▽＾＠)
pretty ass: OH WAIT I HAVE AN IDEA (≧▽≦)/
chuu ❤️🔥: you’re scaring me
chuu ❤️🔥: go ahead
pretty ass: come pick me up and we’ll play at my place (￣▽￣)／
pretty ass: I’m bored
pretty ass: my brain is melting chibiiii
He was about to ignore the conversation when he saw Chuuya typing. He toyed with his lip piercing, that sticky feeling of not belonging tightening in his chest and sticking in his throat. His thumb hovered over the block button.
He could do it.
He could—
chuu ❤️🔥: give us thirty, I’ll pick up Tross and we’ll head your way
pretty ass: YES. KIDNAP ME. I’ll behave, promise (＾▽＾)v
chuu ❤️🔥: eat shit and die
Fifteen minutes later, Chuuya was parking in front of Albatross’s apartment complex. Under his coat, he was wearing Christmas-print pajama pants. If Albatross didn’t have a knot wedged in his throat, he would’ve mocked him for it.
“You brought your car,” he said, surprised. Chuuya twirled the keys. “Don’t you prefer the bike?”
Chuuya scrunched his nose.
“We can’t fit all three of us,” he shrugged.
Albatross wasn’t understanding anything. He pushed off the wall and wrapped his own arms around himself in a mock hug. Chuuya bit back a smile, pressing his lips together, but the sparkle in his eyes gave him away.
“On the bike, Dazai can hug you like this and rub his junk all over you.”
Chuuya twisted his mouth. “You’re worse than him. And why not you, huh?”
Albatross went pale. Static filled his ears.
“You two are like middle-schoolers—I’m so done with your bullshit,” he muttered.
“Uh-huh…”
“Go ahead, take the bike and deal with his grabby hands.”
“He’s your boyfriend, what the hell?”
Chuuya arched a brow, and Albatross felt bile rise in his throat. He stepped back and nearly slipped.
“Oh. I see.” He heard himself like from far away, his ears buzzing. “He told you, didn’t he? Fuck.”
Chuuya didn’t answer. He looked unfazed, as if they were discussing the weather instead of talking about how Albatross had slept with Chuuya and his ex at the same time.
Albatross rushed to explain, ignoring the voice in his head whispering that he’d screwed up, that there was no going back, that he needed to stop now.
“It was forever ago, it didn’t happen again, I swear. I had no idea Dazai was your Dazai! Remember the night I short-circuited? When I saw the picture… Look, clean slate, I promise.”
“’Tross, what the fuck?”
Albatross rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. There was an old swing nearby—rusty chains, a seat uncomfortable as hell, definitely unsafe. But kids still played on it even though the chances of getting hurt were high.
That’s how he felt, he’d swung himself too high, and now he was falling with no way to stop.
What a shitty metaphor.
“You know what?” Albatross dropped his arms and fixed his gaze on a point over Chuuya’s shoulder. “I’ve got a ton of stuff to do: laundry, dishes… And I have to wake up early tomorrow. They need me at the shop.”
Chuuya opened his mouth, but Albatross grabbed the door handle, yanked hard, and cursed aloud when the damn door stuck again. One buzz later, it gave way. Chuuya didn’t move, and the sadness, the confusion clouding his eyes made Albatross’s stomach twist.
He bolted up the stairs without looking back.
Chuuya didn’t follow.
And Albatross didn’t know whether he should feel relieved or heartbroken.
The tabby cat stretched out across the hood of the car before hopping down and weaving between Albatross’s legs, pulling the first real smile out of him in days. The cat rubbed his little head against his pant leg, demanding his daily quota of affection. Albatross took off his dirty gloves, shoved them into his back pocket, and crouched down to scratch behind his ears.
Natsume-sensei—that’s what they jokingly called him, because ever since the owner retired and his granddaughter Haruno took over, the cat strutted around the shop like his place—purred softly and flopped onto the floor, belly up.
His smile widened.
“I’m your favorite, right, you fur ball?”
The cat purred louder, swatted at him with a paw, and wriggled under his hands.
“At least I’m someone’s first choice,” he sighed, defeated.
He hadn’t meant to sound so wrecked, like someone had shoved a hand into his chest and squeezed his heart until it bled. But there was no one around to judge him, so he let himself wallow in a misery he’d more than earned. Just for a little while.
Natsume-sensei’s ears twitched, picking up on some unfamiliar sound, and he hurried to his feet. He wasn’t tense—his tail swished with interest. Albatross followed his gaze to the door separating the shop from the main office, and when he looked back, he only caught a flash of orange before the cat ducked under the car he was working on.
“Well. Guess that’s enough cheap sentimentality for today, huh?”
He swallowed, as if that might shake the inexplicable tightness keeping him from breathing properly.
“Albatross!” his coworker shouted from the office doorway, startling him. He clutched his chest on reflex. The guy jerked his head at him. “You’ve got visitors, man. Move your stinky ass and hurry up, we’ve got a ton of work.”
“Visitors?” he echoed, glancing back at the hood of the car, at the mess he’d left behind. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, weighing his options, then shrugged. The car would still be there when he got back.
They weren’t paying him extra for speed.
The moment he stepped into the office, any urge to drag his feet vanished. He froze in the doorway.
Dazai was sprawled across the lumpy little couch, ankles crossed on the rickety coffee table, arms draped over the backrest. A lazy, hooded smile curved his lips without ever reaching his eyes.
He didn’t belong there. Dazai wasn’t made to exist in a damp, falling-apart office that reeked of gasoline.
He couldn’t even react, because right in the middle of the room—nearly burning a hole through the floor—stood Chuuya. Unlike the other bastard, who looked mildly impressed to see him, the crease between the redhead’s brows, the dark half-moons under his eyes, and his overall wrecked appearance suggested he was standing on the edge of a cliff. And the mere thought that it might be his own fault wrapped tight around his throat.
“’Tross,” Chuuya breathed, and the desperation threaded through his name hit him like a kick to the ribs.
Chuuya took a tentative step toward him. Albatross stepped back, shaking his head. Chuuya folded in on himself, shrinking, and Dazai’s gaze sharpened—his face darkened, his easygoing posture shattering.
It might have been endearing, that whole protective-boyfriend act, if it didn’t hurt like hell.
The hum of the heater drilled into his skull.
“I’m working,” he heard himself say, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “What do you want?”
Iceman would gut him if he were here.
“Talk,” Chuuya said.
Albatross nodded without meeting his eyes. “Go ahead.”
“I—”
Dazai pushed himself to his feet and stepped forward, positioning himself next to Chuuya. Not exactly beside him—just a fraction in front. Subtle. Almost imperceptible. And the way the brunet stared at him with barely any expression did absolutely nothing to soothe the itch crawling under his skin.
Chuuya fidgeted with his gloved fingers, pinching and twisting them. Dazai cleared his throat, and Chuuya froze, his cheeks flushing pink.
The itch was unbearable, crawling under his skin, as relentless as the heater’s buzz and the knot scraping his throat.
He needed to get out.
“Sorry, we should’ve talked to you first,” Chuuya tried again, maybe a little steadier, but his words were still clumsy and soaked in something Albatross didn’t want to examine too closely. He needed a cigarette. “We’re sorry we didn’t tell you.”
Tell me what?
“You’re not saying anything,” he cut in, harsher than he meant to. He tried again, pulling his hands from his pockets to rub the back of his neck. “Look, guys, I don’t really get why you’re here. It’s fine. Really. I fucked up—well, we fucked up. Or maybe not. Hell if I know. But we’re friends, right? Well. You and I… I don’t even know what we are.”
Dazai tilted his head, a ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
Something stabbed through Albatross’s chest.
Fuck, he’d missed that.
“We fucked, played video games, and fucked again,” Dazai shrugged.
Chuuya stomped on his foot to make him shut the hell up, and that little smile twisted until a look of sheer horror overtook Dazai’s face.
“Chibiii, that hurts!”
“Can you focus, damn it?” Chuuya hissed, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him down. Then he let go and ran a hand through his hair; a few strands slipped free of his tie, and Albatross had to dig his nails into his palm to fight the urge to touch them.
Dazai noticed. He always did.
“Just give us ten minutes.”
Why did it hurt this much?
“Five.”
Dazai hummed cheerfully. “I can do a lot in five minutes. With my mouth.”
“Please ignore this idiot.”
“Hey! You’re hurting my feelings, Slug.”
“Four minutes,” Albatross warned.
“Pigeon, don’t you know how to count? We’ve got more than four minutes.”
“Enough!” Chuuya snapped—or maybe pleaded, judging by the way his voice shook at the end. Dazai dropped the teasing and leaned subtly toward him.
It hurt. Fuck, it hurt too much, and he was too tired to take it.
“’Tross, we’re friends, and when we hooked up, we said it wouldn’t change anything.”
“Well, it did,” he spat.
Chuuya went pale, his shoulders slumping.
“It did,” he agreed quietly, nodding. “And that’s not a bad thing. That’s just life. I like you. You make me laugh until my stomach hurts, your hugs feel like medicine, and just being around you is enough to make me forget the shitty day I’ve had at work or in class.”
“So what?” Albatross cut in bitterly. “That’s what best friends do.”
Chuuya grimaced. “Yeah, sure. Friday nights with you guys at the Old World recharge me. You’re my fucking family—but it’s not the same. I don’t want Iceman bending me over the kitchen counter, or Piano Man whispering dirty shit in my ear, or Doc blowing this bastard.”
He said it fast, tripping over the words, cheeks blazing. Dazai barely smothered a laugh, his eyes sparkling, and Albatross’s jaw dropped.
“Come on, Chibi. Now say it without choking,” Dazai teased.
Dazai teased him.
Dazai teased him instead of exploding at the mere mention of his boyfriend bent over for someone else. He didn’t demand Albatross’s head on a silver platter for his audacity or threaten to tear him apart if he so much as looked at Chuuya the wrong way.
What the fuck?
Wait, does he know I sucked Dazai off and I’m still breathing?
Chuuya kicked at Dazai’s shin, but he hopped out of the way.
“I don’t get it,” Albatross admitted, lost.
Dazai rolled his eyes. “Do I need to get on my knees for you to—”
Chuuya grabbed him again, yanking him down and clapping a hand over his mouth. Dazai bit him—or tried to lick him—because Chuuya recoiled with a horrified expression.
“Dates,” Chuuya burst out. He took a breath to steady himself, lips pressed into a thin line. “We were going on dates. The three of us. Or we thought we were—”
Dazai slung an arm over his shoulders and pulled him closer; Chuuya stumbled and bared his teeth.
“No, Slug thought you had enough brain cells to get it. I wasn’t so sure. Magpies aren’t that smart. Oh, speaking of which—you lost, Slug. I’ve got the perfect outfit for you, all ruffles and a skirt—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Chuuya shoved him.
Albatross was more confused than ever. Chuuya sighed, turned around, and dropped onto the couch. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to calm down, but he still looked jittery when he fixed his mismatched eyes on him.
“We should’ve talked to you first. You know we suck at communicating, and I thought we didn’t need to spell it out. Everything just flowed—you and me—and Dazai said it’d been the same with you… It wasn’t an easy conversation, and we should’ve talked to you after the bookstore, but I thought we were on the same page.”
“The bookstore was a nice surprise,” Dazai agreed, smiling faintly. “And you planned it.”
“It was?”
Dazai scoffed.
“Do I need to draw you a diagram? Chihuahua likes you, and unfortunately, so do I.”
“Call me a chihuahua again and I’ll feed you to the worms.”
“Promise?”
“You’re dead, asshole.”
No. No fucking way.
The pressure in his chest grew unbearable with every passing second. His lungs burned, his throat closed, the room spinning. He didn’t understand—or maybe he did, and that was the real problem.
It was complicated. And complicated never ended well.
“Guys,” he gasped, swallowing hard and forcing a smile that didn’t stick. “We had fun, I get it. I’m irresistible. But I’m out. It’s complicated, okay? You’re together and you’re scared it’ll blow up, so you pull me in—and I’d be happy to, sure. Sex separately is amazing, together it’d be… wow. No words. But I care about you too much to do this.”
To let you toss me aside like a fucking toy when you get bored.
“’Tross…”
“You’re scared,” Dazai said, and the words latched onto his chest. Albatross bristled, fists clenching, but before he could lash out, Dazai dropped his mask and sighed. “So am I. I’m terrified, and Chibi is too. Can’t you tell? He’s shaking. This is new for all of us, but I like you more than I ever expected to, and it makes no sense. Look at you and look at me—we shouldn’t work, but we do. And you work with him. Why not try?”
“Because you’re fucking soulmates.”
“Ugh, gross,” Chuuya visibly shuddered. “No more rom-coms for you. Soulmates? What’s next, I can’t live without this demon mummy? Newsflash—I can. We can live without each other. We just don’t want to. We want to try again, do it better, make it work—and we want you to try with us.”
“No pressure,” Dazai added softly.
“But it doesn’t matter what we want if you want something else.”
Dazai nodded, taking Chuuya’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “Whatever you decide, nothing has to change. Once Chuuya makes room for you in his huge heart, there’s no escape. You’ll still be best friends, we’ll still hang out, the three of us being idiots—but if you want more…”
“We want more too,” Chuuya finished.
“Nothing has to change if it doesn’t work.”
“But you two—”
“We’ll be a team,” Chuuya insisted. “All three of us. It worked these past few weeks, right? We had fun.”
“Well, I—”
Dazai held out his other hand. Albatross hesitated.
“I’m bad at relationships. I can’t even take care of myself—how the hell am I supposed to take care of two people? I’ll screw it up.”
“And you think this idiot won’t?” Chuuya laughed. “He fucks up constantly, and I’m not perfect either. But we can make it work. We will.”
“I run,” he insisted.
“We’ve noticed,” Dazai rolled his eyes, but the flicker of affection in his gaze didn’t escape him. “I’m an expert.”
“I’ll drag you back,” Chuuya promised. “Even if I have to tie you up and haul you.”
“Kinky~” Dazai hummed, leaning in.
Albatross bit the inside of his cheek, staring at his friends’ intertwined hands, the one being offered to him, and how damn complicated it all was. And still—despite the way the idea twisted in his gut like a thorny vine—he hesitated.
“If it doesn’t work…,” he murmured.
“Everything will stay the same. I promise.”
“You’re kind of full of yourselves, huh? I never said I liked you that much.”
Dazai’s grin widened. “Call it a hunch.”
“Do you like us?” Chuuya asked instead.
“Fuck. This is going to go so wrong.”
“And when have you ever turned down a challenge, ’Tross?” Chuuya laughed, nervous. “We’re in this together.”
Albatross ran his tongue over his top teeth, then shook his head.
“Iceman’s gonna cut my balls off for this.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a soft smile. “Let’s grab some dinner. The three of us.”
“Tonight?” Albatross hesitated, glancing back. “I’ve got a lot of work to do. I don’t know if I’ll be able to leave early.”
“We’ll wait,” Dazai said.
“It’s a date,” Chuuya added, perking up.
Outside, the rain fell lightly, painting the city in soft, shimmering reflections. They walked together, laughing and teasing, bumping shoulders. And for the first time in a long while, Albatross didn’t feel like the third wheel. He was still terrified—but for once, he wasn’t facing it alone.
Chuuya nudged him, and Dazai flashed that half-smile that never failed to make his chest tighten. Albatross looked between them, a quiet, unspoken understanding settling in. No words were needed.
They were together. And somehow, that was enough.
It might not work. Hell, he’d probably try to run again if things went wrong. But he would try to enjoy it—at least until his friends found out and staged an intervention. Who knew? Maybe they’d kill him and he wouldn’t have to worry about rent this month. Or maybe they’d be happy. Maybe it would work, and complicated would finally stop being so hard.