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Chuuya comes home to find his door unlocked and his instincts immediately go on edge. Tightening his fists so that they're shrouded in a dim red glow, he slowly pushes the door open.
"Chuuya!" A blonde annoyance waves at him from where he's sprawled over the couch. "There was an emergency at my place, so I had to come here."
Sighing, Chuuya drops For the Tainted Sorrow, placing his groceries on the kitchen table. Walking over to the couch, he gives Albatross a good, hard kick so that he goes scrambling to the floor.
The slight satisfaction from Albatross's (obviously fake) whine calms the alarm bells in his head. Chuuya was fully confident of the fact that no intruder could take him down so easily.
Yet, he'd grown fond of this apartment, with Miss Yamaguchi across the hallway and her two little brats who loved to cling to Chuuya's legs every time he left in the morning. Old Mr.Satoshi as well, who reminded Chuuya too much of Hirotsu that he secretly harbored a conspiracy that the both were long-lost brothers.
And, well, Chuuya -
Chuuya did not want to put any of them in danger.
"What was the emergency?" asks Chuuya, over the increasing pitch of Albatross' complaints. It shuts him up, and he grins over at Chuuya, brandishing the array of empty wrappers over the coffee table.
"I ran out of chocolate and needed something sweet, so.."
"So… you raided my entire fridge?" Chuuya feels a little lightheaded. He'd been saving those green tea Mochi, even though he now had the money to buy them anytime. "There's literally a store down the block."
"True," agrees Albatross, "but why would I go to such a hassle when I've got it right here?"
Chuuya massages his temples, surprisingly not as annoyed as he thought. He kind of just feels tired, actually. Albatross apparently senses this, and the bright smile on his face fades a little into something softer.
Reaching over, he fumbles with the remote to turn the television on. The TV is still paused midway through the new K-Drama that Chuuya secretly loves but mocks every night with Albatross.
Albatross, the traitor, has watched a few episodes ahead, even though they promised to watch it together. Hitting play, Albatross rights himself so he's sitting upright with his back against the couch, head overlapping Chuuya's middle from where he lays horizontally.
The normality of this, with the both of them watching in silence punctuated by the dramatic sobs of the female lead and the overly macho displays of the male lead lulls Chuuya into a state of drowsiness. At the brink of sleep and wakefulness, he feels warm circles rubbed into his midriff. It feels good, really good, and Chuuya leans into the touch, before the darkness takes him whole.
♥ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
The mafia doesn't have vacations, but there's a lull in their work around New Year, and Boss Mori gives them all a needed respite. Dazai proudly brandishes a fresh new method of committing suicide pulled from the pages of his godforsaken book and everyone politely ignores him as they make their escape before Boss changes his mind and piles more work on their shoulders.
Chuuya goes back home – to his apartment – when had he started thinking of it as home and pulls out the cookbook that Ane-san had bestowed upon him for Christmas. Of course, he ends up burning down half his kitchen – less due to a cooking failure and more due to how he panicked and tried to use his ability to shroud the fire. (He had grievously miscalculated and ended up increasing the density of the air around it instead.)
Like clockwork, there is a knock on his door. When he pulls it open, Albatross stands there, a plastic bag in his hand. This close, the smell of fresh takeout almost overpowers the burning noodles from the kitchen. Chuuya resolutely does not look at the way Albatross' mouth twitches in suppressed laughter as he makes his way to clean up the mess.
"Heard screaming," offers Albatross casually from the couch, and Chuuya responds by scowling and scrubbing the blackened vessel harder. "Thought it was a little girl from how high-pitched it was, so I came to offer my gentlemanly services –"
Chuuya cuts him off by throwing a wet sponge at his face and grins when it hits its target with a resounding thwack. "Nothing gentlemanly about you, 'Tross, seen the way you dress?"
"This is not how you treat your savior, Chuuya! This is high fashion, you hear me? High fashion!" The effect is nullified by the soap suds trailing down his nose.
"Saviour my ass," scoffs Chuuya in reply, drying off the dishes and making his way over. He bumps his forearm lightly against Albatross' in thanks when he accepts the box of noodles. They eat in peace - or however peaceful it could possibly be with Albatross.
"Ooh, big slurp, wonder what your Ane-san would think of that!"
"Fuck off!"
"You're even spitting at me, ghastly behavior, Chuuya!"
In sum, only a single box of fried tofu has been used as ammunition, so Chuuya counts it a win.
Unlike certain fish, Albatross helps him clean up and dispose of the mess. When Chuuya glances at the clock, it's with certain shock that he realizes it's almost midnight. This wasn't exactly in his plans to spend the last dredges of his vacation, but it was nice. Perhaps nicer than he'd give it credit for.
"Bedtime for the kid?" asks Albatross, grinning at him over his phone. Chuuya, sated and sleepy, can only muster up the energy to smack him on the arm.
As the clock ticks down to twelve, Albatross lays his phone down on the arm of the couch and sits up. When Chuuya looks over at the shift, Albatross looks straight at him, without the dark of his sunglasses hiding his eyes. Slowly, like he's approaching a terrified animal, Albatross leans toward him.
A beat.
Chuuya doesn't move.
Another beat.
Albatross is so close that Chuuya goes cross-eyed trying to keep him in sight. His palm comes up to cradle the curve of Chuuya's jaw. It's soft. Warm.
"Chuuya," Albatross says. A question. His voice is ragged, sending a shiver down Chuuya's spine.
Another beat.
The clock hits twelve.
Albatross is so close that he seems to have sucked all the air from the space between their mouths.
Chuuya's mind shuts down and then speeds into hyperdrive. One thought peels its way from the rest, and flashes stark before Chuuya's eyes.
I know nothing about him, Chuuya thinks, frantic.
He doesn't know Albatross' last name or even his first. He doesn't know his age or his birthday or where his parents went and why they left him behind.
Chuuya may have given up his life for the children of the street, but the silver-pale scar running over the curve of his belly still stings as if it were yesterday.
"No," says Chuuya into the vacuum between their lips and refuses to be deterred by the way Albatross' face falls. It's whip-quick but unmistakable. His grin is back as soon as it leaves, and Chuuya knows it's genuine.
"That's chill," he says, leaning backward. "Want me to leave?"
"I-"hesitates Chuuya and turns away. The look in Albatross' eye burns fresh in his mind. It seems impossible that anyone could see him like that. He, who is less human and more vessel, a container for a monster that resides in the in-betweens of his ribs.
He has only known Albatross for a little more than seven months. Shirase had known him for years, so fond, so close, that he can still recollect the press of his hair into the hollow of Chuuya's collar bone as they huddled together in the biting cold.
And Shirase had sunk a dagger into his stomach with nothing more than resolute determination in his eye.
When he is silent for too long, Albatross seems to decide for him. He pats Chuuya's shoulder, and both ignore how Chuuya flinches. Gently, carefully, Albatross tilts Chuuya's chin toward him. The familiar grin on his face settles his stomach and calms his racing heart.
"Hey," says Albatross, all the throaty hoarseness from earlier replaced by the familiar teasing lilt. "It's okay, Chuuya."
And then he's gone.
The clock ticks in the silence, and the year falls away into dust. Chuuya clenches his fists so tightly that he leaves eight half crescents on the skin of his palms.
The apartment that had seemed like home just hours ago now looms around him like a haunted house. The scar on his stomach throbs with phantom pain.
Like a tree that falls in a forest, if Chuuya cries that night, nobody will know.
So that means it never happened at all.
♥ ♥ ♡ ♡ ♡
At this stage of Chuuya's existence, injuries were just a result of the trade. His ability made sure no weapon ever got too close to him, but grazes were unavoidable.
However, the bleeding gash on his shoulder could not be considered a graze in any sense of the word.
Cursing, Chuuya kicks open his front door, making his way to the medicine cabinet stocked in his bathroom. Not for the first time, he curses his bull-headed stubbornness – in a manner of cockiness, he had refused to buy bandages and stitching equipment.
He bites back a hiss as he wipes the wound with fresh cotton dipped in alcohol. However, the injury continues to bleed sluggishly, and Chuuya resigns to making his way back downstairs to the pharmacy.
He takes two steps, and the world suddenly spins harshly, a combination of exhaustion and blood loss catching up to him too quickly. Gritting his teeth, Chuuya surrounds himself with a red glow, floating slowly to the front door - right when it swings open and decks him in the face.
"Chuuya, your savior is here!" Albatross stands proudly in the doorway, bag in hand.
From the floor, Chuuya lets out a string of filthy curses, so vile that even Albatross looks impressed.
"Motherfucker, what are you doing here?" They hadn't spoken too much since the incident on New Years Eve – and if Chuuya was being honest, it was completely his fault, darting around corners when he saw Albatross, pretending to not hear the insistent knocking on his door.
"I heard you got hurt, and I know you don't have shit to patch yourself up. I saw the state of your medicine cabinet, Chuuya." Albatross mocks a look of disappointment, tsking at Chuuya.
Annoyed, Chuuya pushes himself up, only for his vision to swim with black, taking him back down to the floor. The grin on Albatross's face softens into something like concern, and he hoists Chuuya, none too gently, to his couch.
Chuuya curses him all the way there, but the fight leaves him when the plush cushion meets his back. He catches his reflection in the black tint of Albatross's sunglasses, tucked into his shirt collar, and grimaces at how pathetically washed out he looks.
For the first time in a long while, he feels weak. Exhausted. A feeling usually paired with vulnerability – which he could never be. Too much depended on him – now and always – for him to let his guard down.
And yet –
When Albatross cuts away the poorly tied bandage and sinks a needle into his arm, Chuuya can only muster up gratefulness. It would be so, so easy now for someone to kill him. If not Albatross, then perhaps an assassin through the window, a snubbed grunt who'd worked under him.
But the fear doesn't even lap at the corners of his mind. He feels – safe – with Albatross.
It's a foreign feeling that makes his head further spin with the sheer absurdity of it. Even with the Sheep and before them, Chuuya could not remember a moment in his life where he had felt safe.
Waking up in the ruined crater of a city and praying that he was imagining the dark shadows darting around corners. Forcing himself to stay awake even as his limbs ached with exhaustion to protect the young children of the Sheep. Crouching under his windowsill, glowing red, because he'd heard a trashcan tip over in the alley downstairs.
All those moments – had led to this? It didn't make any sense to Chuuya.
Could he – possibly trust Albatross?
The idea makes his head ache, so he refuses to examine it further. Instead, he leans into the ebbing waves of pain flowing down his arm and squints at the pink flash of Albatross's tongue as he concentrates.
Albatross says something, and the smooth waves of his voice wash like comfort over Chuuya. Unconsciously, he leans further into his side. White noise rings in his ears, and Chuuya melts into the warmth of someone else. Safety feels like a drug alighting him with pleasure.
Out of his mind, Chuuya grips the front of Albatross's shirt.
"Don't – don't leave me."
The chuckle Albatross lets out vibrates down Chuuya's spine. A hand drifts into his hair, and it feels heavenly.
"I won't. Not if I can help it."
Satisfied, Chuuya's hand loosens, drifting back to his side. Albatross continues to comb through the messy tangles of his hair, scratching gently at his scalp.
It's good, Chuuya thinks, drifting to sleep. It's good like this.
(If he could have anything, he'd want to stay like this forever.)
♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♡
Chuuya runs down the alley Lippman directs him into, neatly maneuvering over the trashcans that blocked his path. He scales his way up the brick-walled dead end before dropping onto the roof of the enemy base.
"Boss will be happy," grunts Chuuya as he kicks a hole through the tarpaulin.
But the warehouse is empty.
"Lippman," calls Chuuya, and his response is immediate through the receiver. "They're not here."
"What? That can't be; there's no way they could have known – "
Chuuya grits his teeth. They'd been following this particular group of petty criminals for a month. They hadn't done anything to a significant effect. Still, one of the members had a particularly annoying ability that Boss Mori wanted to get his hands on.
"Wait – "starts Chuuya, registering the eery silence. "Wasn't Albatross supposed to meet me here?"
Lippman's voice is grim when he replies.
"We've lost contact with him."
Chuuya kicks the wall so hard that the entire building collapses.
He hates asking Dazai for help, but Albatross's life is at stake. They still hadn't made contact after nearly six hours. Though Chuuya wouldn't underestimate his fighting capability under any capacity, Albatross had never been off the grid for so long.
Dazai, the slimy bastard, manages to pick out the location of the gang with a few pointed questions and overexaggerated hums while looking through the information Chuuya presented him with.
And then he refuses to tell Chuuya.
"Hmm, but what will the hat-rack give me in return?"
"Bastard, just tell me the goddamn location!"
"Everything comes at a price, Chuuya ~"
"Fine." Chuuya looks Dazai in the eye. "I'll give you whatever you want. Tell me the fucking coordinates."
"Anything? You know who you're talking to, right?"
"Of course," says Chuuya. "I know you'll make me play around like a fool and embarrass myself. But," he continues, forging forward doubtlessly. "Albatross might be at risk. So, I'll do anything."
"Hmm," says Dazai and looks at Chuuya in a particularly annoying way. "Well, here you go then." He inputs the coordinates into Chuuya's GPS. Chuuya immediately grabs it from him, sputtering in surprise.
"What – that's it? That was easier than usual…"
"Well, Chuuya has provided me with some fascinating information after all," muses Dazai, and something about his tone burrows its way under Chuuya's skin. With a shudder, Chuuya brushes it off and walks away, not wanting to know what Dazai was talking about this time.
He had a rescue mission to complete, after all.
/
Albatross's sunglasses are smashed to smithereens outside the specified location. Chuuya contemplates walking straight in and crushing every person before him, but the sound of Albatross's voice causes him to duck behind a wall and listen in.
"You're going to regret this, you know?"
There's a laugh and then the dull thunk of flesh hitting flesh. A splatter. When Chuuya peeks, Albatross is coughing blood onto the ground. For the Tainted Sorrow glows bright around Chuuya's fists as his blood rushes fiercely in his ears.
But then Albatross says his name, and Chuuya's insides go quiet.
"Chuuya's going to kill all of you for this."
"The gravity manipulator? Please, he was so easily fooled by our red herring. He's not coming for you, so you better start coughing up that information right now." He punctuates his sentences with repeated kicks to Albatross's torso. With horror, Chuuya notes the red stain spreading down his side.
In the moment before Chuuya storms out and tears the five men standing around Albatross to pieces, he says:
"Of course, he'll come. I trust him."
/
Chuuya cuts through the ropes binding Albatross's wrists and feet. He pulls free and stands, only to immediately collapse, Chuuya barely catching him.
"Idiot," scolds Chuuya, but it comes out far too worried for his liking. "You and I both know you got caught on purpose." It's a question and a scolding all in one.
Albatross tries to push himself upright but gives up and sags in Chuuya's arms. "It was – the only way to get information." He coughs wetly, and Chuuya scrunches his nose at how blood splatters over his arm.
"And what if I hadn't come? Or been too late? They would have killed you; you know they're not afraid to do so." Chuuya knows he sounds slightly hysterical at this point.
Albatross only grins at him. "Well, I trusted you would, and you did! All's well that ends well and all that –"
"How can you trust me?" interrupts Chuuya, and the helplessness rings clear in his voice. When he'd left the Sheep, he'd realized that they were right to not place their loyalty in him, not when that inhuman thing in his blood screeched louder every day.
(It would be good, perhaps, if nobody trusted him again. Not when he couldn't trust himself.)
Albatross smiles at him, and it's such a tender little thing that Chuuya wants to sob.
"I don't know," Albatross answers, so simple and sure. "But I assumed it would be better to try. Even if it ended terribly. I can't just throw away a chance with you, can I?"
"That's so stupid," says Chuuya, but his voice cracks on the last syllable. The way Albatross said 'you,' like Chuuya was something precious. Tender.
"Besides -" grins Albatross, ignoring how Chuuya tries to hide his face, fully aware of the emotions flashing across it. He leans heavily on Chuuya as they make their way out of the building, Albatross frowning at the state of his sunglasses as they cross the entrance. "I can see the human in your eyes. So, I know you're worth it, anyway."
And that's –
"I fucking hate you."
"I know," says Albatross but leans a little more into Chuuya than he has to, anyway.
And if Chuuya lets him, well, that's nobody's business but his own.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡
It's two am and there's loud music blasting from outside Chuuya's window. Was he destined to never have a fucking break? Stomping over, he pulls the shutter aside so hard he almost snaps it in half.
Sticking his head out of the window, he screams. "Shut the fuck up!"
Somehow, it is this that causes passersby to look over in disgust instead of the maniac hoisting a radio in his hands. Seriously?
"' Tross, the goddamn hell are you doing?!"
Albatross shouts something inaudible over the beat of the music. Chuuya hoists himself out his window, floating down to where Albatross stands.
"You're always so loud!" yells Chuuya in Albatross's face. It is a testament to the amount of time they've spent with one another that Albatross doesn't flinch, continuing to grin at Chuuya.
You belong with me! croons the speaker, and that, paired with a knowing look in Albatross's eye, sends color flushing down Chuuya's cheeks.
"Idiot," Chuuya says, but it's more hushed. "Wasn't one rejection enough for you?"
"Oh?" says Albatross, his smile unfazed. He leans down to drop the speaker, clicking it off and enshrouding them in the quiet sounds of the late evening. "Haven't you changed your mind yet?"
Chuuya splutters.
"Wha – what! Why would that happen!"
Albatross shrugs, but the knowing glint in his eye remains. Seriously, what was with everyone seeming to know precisely what Chuuya was thinking, starting with that godawful Mackerel?
Albatross softens at the lost look that Chuuya knows he must be wearing. "Chuuya, it doesn't have to be anything serious. You –" he takes a deep breath. "You don't even have to trust me, although I'd be flattered if you did. Just," he gestures to his bike behind him. "Come for a ride with me?"
"I-" says Chuuya, and his brain refuses to come up with anything more.
Albatross smiles, and it is perhaps the kindest way anyone has ever looked at Chuuya before.
And then he starts fucking singing.
"ぶったりしてごめんね
愛しくて仕方なかった
ねぇ 泣き真似してごめんね
困った顔が見たくて"
"Oh my god," scoffs Chuuya, but he can't hold back his laughter. Albatross frowns at him, like Chuuya's making fun of a solemn act, but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away.
Somehow, he can't look away from Albatross absolutely mangling one of Chuuya's favorite songs, going off pitch every two beats, but forging forward recklessly.
"How do you even know this song?" asks Chuuya weakly, and Albatross stops to answer.
"Heard you listening to that street busker for a little longer than you usually do," and then he continues to sing.
And it's just – the smallest thing. It seems impossible that someone could want to pay so much attention to him so that they would notice when he stopped a few seconds longer than he usually did, that he seemed a few shades happier than he usually was – that someone could look at him and think, oh, him? I want to keep looking at him forever.
"I can't believe you're ruining Eriashi for me right now," says Chuuya, strangled, and then tugs Albatross down and kisses him.
Albatross immediately stops singing, smiling into Chuuya's mouth as he gently cups Chuuya's waist, holding him like some precious, fragile thing.
Chuuya thinks, what is wrong with me, I don't know him at all.
But its – not true.
Chuuya might not know his last name or even his first. He might not know his age or his birthday or where his parents went and why they left behind a boy who could be loved as easily as breathing.
But Chuuya knows how Albatross snores in his sleep, the tiny sniffle he makes after a laugh, the angle at which he props his sunglasses on a tuft of hair. He knows the flavor of KitKat Albatross likes best, and that he bites it whole like some sort of monster.
He knows how Albatross is brash and loud and gives no fucks about propriety. He knows how he softens around the kittens in the alley behind the PM building, quiet whispers and delicate touches. He knows the smell of his perfume and the taste of his Chapstick because Albatross shares his belongings like they were never his in the first place.
He knows how Albatross loves, that for someone in the goddamn mafia, he is so loose with his heart, with his affection. He knows how Albatross encroaches on his personal space with no regret and eats out cupboards of his food, yet touches him so cautiously when he wakes panting and sweating in the middle of the night.
He doesn't know what unfair circumstances befell him to end up somewhere as terrible as here, but he knows that Albatross welcomed it with open arms and an easy-going grin and made the best of it, as much as he could. He'd done the same with Chuuya, after all.
Chuuya kisses him and kisses him, and Albatross grins so hard into the kiss that they're both laughing into each other's mouths when they separate to breathe. When Albatross steps away, Chuuya immediately misses his warmth, embarrassingly stumbling after him. Albatross gently steadies him and then takes his hand.
"Come with me, Chuuya," he says and hands Chuuya a helmet. It's black but felted orange, and it fits Chuuya perfectly.
Albatross grins at him through the visor of his own helmet. The red flush on his cheeks- half from the cold, half from their kissing - matches the obnoxious pink of his motorbike, and Chuuya suddenly develops a particular fondness for the shade.
"Coming?" asks Albatross, and Chuuya doesn't need to know his name, family, or birthday. Maybe it is stupid of him to trust again, so quickly after it had backfired on him so terribly. But perhaps it is fine to be a little stupid if it's with him.
"Yeah," says Chuuya, and he presses his face into the cool roughness of Albatross' jacket. The wind pulls his hair around his face, so all he can see is how Albatross's braid dances down the curve of his nape. When he laughs into the warm skin of his neck, he hears Albatross' answering chuckle sing in the breeze.
The skin on his belly is smooth and unmarked. There is no pain at all.
He doesn't look back.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥