#dazai: chuuya my shoulder hurts can u carry my bag today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

serine-glutamic · 6 years

Text

Monochrome: Shelter

BEWARE: Mild spoilers (I think? If you haven’t watched BSD season 2, it will be spoiler lol)

Pairing: Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya

Rating: PG13

A/N: This is a part of my Monochrome series (All I Want is also a part of it, just a series of ficlets) and I will update it on my AO3 so if you like it, you could go ahead and check out my account -> @serineglutamic

***

Dazai doesn’t turn his head at the sound of the tinkling bell signaling a new guest. The café is quiet, as Dazai hardly considers anything other than gunshot-filled atmosphere as noisy. He taps his fingers on the chipped table rhythmically, while his right hand is holding the same ratty book he’s been carrying around for years, his thumb stretched over the pages. He pretends to be lazily reading over the words, such brilliance, how does one put such beauty and poise on paper?!

A sleek figure slides smoothly into the seat across him, and immediately pulls the blinds down in a huff, earning a strange look from the lady that’s serving their table.

“Ah, it’s okay, he’s allergic to the sun,” Dazai waves cheerily to dispel suspicion from his waitress friend, who rolls her eyes, probably thinking anyone associated with Dazai is never normal. He chuckles at the faint smile of the old man making his coffee behind the island.

“Maybe you can stick to just the silly hat next time, Chuu-ya,” Dazai enunciates the u a tad too cheerily to the disgruntled male, who looks around briefly before stowing away his obnoxiously large sunglasses in the pocket of his dark, dark coat, and fixing Dazai a well-deserved glare. The waitress chooses this moment to serve them their fragrant coffee, each with a side of a small biscuit next to the cup, breaking Chuuya’s sharp gaze. While he turns to thank the waitress with a faux smile, Dazai studies his passive blue eyes, ever so hollow despite being the color of the moving sea. His cheeks seem gaunt, and his eye bags more prominent. Ah, when is he going to stop wearing the choker? It does funny things to Dazai, honestly.

“You weren’t going to tell me anything?” he starts without a warning, his eyes so viciously full of hatred, but his quivering lips and Dazai’s years of bond with him lets him read all the signs of hurt and sorrow buried in the pits of Chuuya’s pupils. He sighs and sips the bitter coffee.

“It’s not bad, you should give it a try. Maybe you can be a regular here,” Dazai cocks his head at the steaming cup, untouched, in front of the seething Chuuya.

“Yes, and be caught by either side, and slaughtered? Frankly speaking, maybe if I go quick, my life is going to be less of a hassle to deal with,” he sneers, and picks up the cup anyway. Dazai gives him a reassuring nod with innocent eyes, as Chuuya sniffs the drink, cautious of poison as usual. It’s how they were trained after all.

“No, I just thought it’d be a nice and safe place to meet my Chuuya, and it’ll be even better if you like swinging by.”

“It’s nice but not that nice that I would risk my neck for.” By this time though, his shoulders have loosened up, and his posture a little more wound down, like a regular customer instead of a suspicious assassin figure.

“It’s absolutely safe here! Look at the almost non-existent customers! They probably get most of their income from us, now that I think about it,” Dazai lowers his voice to a whisper. Chuuya glances around, and it is indeed quite the obscure place to meet for a Port Mafia executive, and an ex-Port Mafia executive.

“True, th-wait that’s not why I’m here,” Chuuya’s lips are pursed in a thin line and his gaze hardens again. Dazai wishes his redhead isn’t so strung up all the time. It’ll make his pretty face wrinkle quickly.

“It was… a decision made in a spur of the moment. But I have thought about it for some time. You, of all people, know I have no love for them,” Dazai’s tone turns icy, because the thought of just his face disgusts him.

“You always made that clear to me, but why? Why now? Why not…” Chuuya trails off, and chooses to look away, through the blinds, at the bright daylight and the soundless footsteps on the pavement.

Why didn’t you tell me? was the unspoken words Chuuya didn’t need to voice out. Dazai understands. Of course he does. Cold, distant, and sadistic as he is, he’s aware of his relationship with Nakahara Chuuya, the other half of Soukoku… his other half.

But the passing of Odasaku, his friend, had been shattering, to his mind and heart. And he never felt anything like that, never not know what to do. So when Odasaku gave Dazai his parting message, it was like Dazai suddenly had a new purpose. He had to change his course. Even if it meant leaving Chuuya for a while…

“Sorry, Chuu-ya,” because that’s all Dazai can say, with a smile, hoping that his warmth could wipe the anger and hurt away from Chuuya’s features that Dazai misses. Hoping that Chuuya would understand.

They were never exclusive, or official, or anything beyond Soukoku. More than partners, less than a couple. The nights spent together couldn’t lie, nor the looks Chuuya gives Dazai, and the pulsing veins in Dazai’s body every time he makes contact with Chuuya’s skin. They never spoke about it, for fear that if it was ever thrown out there, solid as words, and existing as the fog, it would mean nothing good.

With a heart still in turmoil, Dazai had scribbled something about being gone for a while, and some random numbers on paper and stuck it to Chuuya’s pillow, because no one would dare touch the other’s bed. He escaped the Port Mafia, and fast forward to today, his partner has had enough wit about him to decode the numbers and communicate with Dazai.

“They were asking me where you went off to,” Chuuya drawls flatly. Dazai knew, suspected, those might have been part of why the other male looked exhausted and unfed.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, knowing Chuuya didn’t give anything away, despite the hard time the Boss must have given him. Dazai could almost feel the stinging skin under his bandages at the thought. And then the seeping sadness and anger because Chuuya had to suffer for his actions… But he knows Chuuya is tough, and could hold his own, even against the Boss. Still, his blood boils.

“I didn’t even know where the heck you were, so it wasn’t like I could say anything,” Chuuya snipes, but Dazai knows he could have if he really tried.

“My precious Chuuya has lost weight,” Dazai chooses to change the topic.

“Who’s fault do you think that is? Some slacker up and left, so I had to do twice the normal work.”

“Not that I usually contribute that much anyway,” Dazai adds.

“Oh right, you don’t,” Chuuya smirks. The insolence is so endearing to see on Chuuya’s face.

“Anyway Chuuya, I just wanted to tell you one thing today-”

“Oh, just one?” Chuuya scoffs bitterly.

“One important thing. If you value your life, and… your wine collection, don’t ever activate Corruption now that I’m not there.” Dazai curses his own faltering, but he wouldn’t say what he truly wanted to say. If you value your life, and my sanity, my heart… if you activate Corruption without me, you could die…

Chuuya folds his arms across his chest, like a sulking child, so familiar and comforting that Dazai wants to reach across the table and brush his lips on the wrinkled forehead. This boy is the only reason Dazai could still see light in the dark organization.

“Or what?” he sneers. “I could kill the entire Yokohama city, you know. Including your precious detective friends.” Is that a little jealousy?

“I’ll snatch your wine collection, I know where you hide them, and juggle the bottles. You know how I am with juggling,” Dazai grins, passes everything off nonchalantly.

“Monster,” Chuuya narrows his eyes at the chuckling Dazai.

“I think it’s time you go back home, someone’s probably looking for you,” Dazai reminds him. Chuuya glances at the time on his phone, and grumbles.

“Thanks for nothing, bandage-head,” he gets up to leave. But no, Dazai really missed him terribly. Before he could think twice, he gets up too, leaving some money on the table. Chuuya throws him a flat look, his default angry expression.

“Ah, Chuuya, actually put your glasses on, and let’s go run my errand,” Dazai announces, pushing the male forward by his shoulders.

“W-wh-what?!” his eyes are wild, and fumbles nervously for his glasses.

“We’re going to the convenience store. My colleagues have sent me on an errand.”

“And if we’re seen?!” Chuuya whispers shrilly. Is that even possible? It is with Chuuya.

“I’m sure you can take them out,” Dazai’s eyes glints unmercifully. Chuuya can only go along with a resigning sigh.

“You’re a sadistic monster.”

“Chuuya does understand me best,” Dazai claps his hands.

The strange pair heads down the street, not touching save for their coats, in the chilly wind, and the playful looks Dazai tortures Chuuya with. How he wishes everything is as easy as this, as easy as loving Nakahara Chuuya…

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #Nakahara Chuuya #soukoku #port mafia #ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 link

6 notes · View notes