Work Text:
Soft melodies play from the radio as streetlights pass overhead. The sky was clear with no cloud in sight, the moon bright in its perch. A slight breeze comes through the cracked open window as the car travels down the road.
It was, yet again, another serene night of driving.
Chuuya was in the driver’s seat, his glove-less hands on the wheel and his hair coming undone from its braid. Dazai was sat in the passenger seat, his head leaning against the window with a hand on Chuuya’s thigh. Both were quiet, just enjoying the moment.
Rounding a bend in the road, Chuuya thinks back to when this little tradition of theirs had started. It began when they were sixteen and struggling with a horrible bout of insomnia. Dazai, who had been thoroughly exhausted, had suggested they do a late-night drive to try and unwind. So, they did. And, much to their surprise, not only did it help them unwind, but it also helped them fall asleep easier.
Thus started this tradition of theirs.
At some point during these endeavors, Dazai had put blankets in the trunk of his car. That way, if Chuuya got too tired to drive, they could crash in the backseat. Sometimes, though, the two of them would find a secluded place, curl up in the backseat, and enjoy the night sky or listen to the wildlife if they went out far enough. It was during those moments that the two could get away from the blood-soaked atmosphere of the mafia and pretend they were just ordinary teenagers hanging out.
Just regular, ordinary, sleep-deprived teenagers.
A new song comes on. This one slower, more melancholy.
The night Dazai had left the mafia and blown up his car was a hard one on Chuuya. To him, the act showed that Dazai had never cared. That he had never cared about the moments they spent driving around, about the memories they had created under the stars. That he never cared about the sips of wine or cigarettes between them or the kisses they stole. That those instances where they fell asleep against each other had meant nothing.
That all those emotions they had felt but never verbalized could turn to ash just like the remnants of his car.
During those silent four years, Chuuya never once went on a late-night drive. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to get into a car that didn’t have blood stains on the passenger seat from when Dazai had gotten shot on a job. He couldn’t bring himself to get into a car that didn’t have wine stains on the ceiling from a wine bottle exploding. He couldn’t bring himself to get into a car that didn’t have scuff marks on the dash from numerous instances of Dazai putting his feet there despite Chuuya telling him not to.
Chuuya couldn’t bring himself to get into a car that didn’t have their blankets in the trunk.
But imagine his surprise when the two met again and the brunette had revealed the blankets.
After much cursing and a choked breath on Chuuya’s part, Dazai had explained that he had taken the blankets with him when he went underground. According to him, they had remained in a box, untouched, until that moment.
The blankets had promptly been put into the trunk of Chuuya’s new car.
And now here they were, at the age of twenty-two, leading two very different lives, resuming their little tradition once more.
Letting out a tiny sigh, Chuuya rubs his eye before returning his hand to the wheel. The two of them had been aimlessly driving for a few hours now, and the sleep Chuuya had so desperately been craving was finally catching up to him. The cool air coming through the windows, the music playing, and the warm hand on his thigh didn’t help.
A yawn and the sound of shuffling clothes comes from the redhead’s left. “Tired?” Chuuya asks, voice barely above a whisper.
“Mmhmm,” Dazai hummed, not bothering to give a proper response.
“You want me to pull over?”
Another hum.
“Alright.”
Driving for a few more minutes, Chuuya eventually came upon a dirt road that led up to a hilltop. Turning into it, he followed the road until it opened into a vacant parking lot that overlooked the sea. Chuuya pulls into a parking space—not bothering to make sure he was in between the lines since it was three in the morning—parks the car, partially rolls down all the windows, and turns it off.
They descend into peaceful silence.
Taking the hand still on his thigh, Chuuya gives it a quick squeeze before exiting and grabbing the blankets. While he does this, Dazai climbs over the center console into the backseat, slips off the slippers he wore, and lays down. When Chuuya gets into the backseat he, too, slips off his shoes before climbing onto Dazai and cocooning them in their thick blue and red blankets.
After much adjusting, the two finally get comfortable with Chuuya’s head tucked underneath Dazai’s chin, and Dazai’s lanky arms encircling Chuuya’s waist and back. A content sigh leaves them both.
It had been way, way too long.