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They were two halves of the same whole, two immaculate men who made the world forget to breathe. Bound by bloodshed and broken souls and made to be double black, but even that didn't describe the bond the men shared nothing could. Every time Dazai tried to place his finger on the word, he realized no language could describe it, no word invoked them, no word could help utter the clashing tides of feelings, The storm that was Soukoku.
To say the boys hated each other was an understatement, time and time again they fought, screamed, cried but, it always ended back in each other's arms. The two gripped at each other like they were smoke that would fade away. The two were Soukoku and no hurtful words and broken bodies could stop such a profane creation.
Maybe that's how the two had reached the current situation. The two lay on Dazia’s bed, Chuuya was curled in Dazai 's arms with his knees tucked to his chest in a pathetic display. Not that the taller cared, how he could barely care about anything when all his thoughts were consumed by the pair's heartbeats? They were perfectly out of sync, Dazai's own heart thumping only to immediately be met by Chuuya’s. Not a second was left to silence.
That's how the two liked it, Noise and chaos kept things simple. Silence left room for the pain to finally catch up to the young men's brains. Angry screaming or debauched moans seemed to be preferable when the alternative was feeling.
Chuuya traced his fingertips over the knobs of Dazai’s spine. His thin body had made it a habit for Chuuya to run his fingers over the bones when anxious. At first, it had seemed strange but now it was as if the men seemed more comfortable with each other’s bodies than without.
Dazai leaned in closer to Chuuya’s neck, breathing in the air before letting out a shaky sigh. The hot air hit the back of Chuuya’s neck and he tensed. For a second everything stopped, the air froze and fear filled the small room. Then just as fast as everything stopped it began again, Chuuya’s shoulders untensed and Dazai took in another breath.
As much as the two were comfortable with each other's bodies that didn't make them forget their hatred for their own. Any reminder that they existed outside of the other's touch was uncomfortable at best and excruciating at worst. The men knew they were two halves of a whole, two souls meant to be one yet fighting to stay apart.
Even with the bond the two had their relationship was forged with just as much hatred as it was with fondness.
So they lay in uncomfortable closeness, Always about to snap but no one ever truly being broken by the other.
As much as Chuuya hated it Dazai was a constant comfort, a salve to his aching wounds. Dazai was as much of a painkiller as he was the pain. The thought made Chuuya grip onto Dazai even more, clinging to the man who was nothing more than a comforting ailment. Dazai did the same, drowning in the one person who could bring him solace for even just a moment.
Both of them knew that in the morning they’d have to move on though. They’d be forced to untangle their limbs and hold in their sorrow till it spilled out once again and the cycle continued till one of them died.
They were a doomed pair. They were two broken men meant to be used by each other till the very end. They were a destined tragedy. It was a bullshit relationship neither dared to call love.
They were Soukoku.