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Chuuya took one last drag from the cigarette and then slowly, careful not to get any of the burning ash on the bedding, handed the joint to Dazai. His movements were sluggish, almost lazy — the inevitable aftereffect of letting the intoxicating smoke expand his lungs, numb his limbs, and cloud his consciousness.
Dazai mirrored him, taking a deep puff, and Chuuya counted to ten in his head, halting his own exhale for as long as he could. His next breath matched Dazai’s, residue smoke mixing between them as the younger raised the cigarette to his lips for another inhale.
They’ve done this a lot lately. This as in locking themselves into one of their apartments, — usually Chuuya’s since the shipping container Dazai resided in was a far cry from a comforting, acceptable place to unwind at, — and getting high together. A weirdly domestic, and definitely unsettling development of their partnership as of late. It was an unspoken agreement between them though, to not acknowledge the elephant in the room.
To remain silent while they passed the joint until it burned down completely, then lay on Chuuya’s lumpy bed together in a daze and stare at the trapped smoke billowing in the air near the ceiling of the room. At such times, as long as the effect of the weed lasted, they could finally allow themselves just to be . To get lost in their thoughts — some dark, some nicer — and relish in the comforting presence of the other.
Strictly without talking about the experience afterward. Getting immersed in their own minds, not caring about the outside world and the responsibility it put on them both as individuals and as Double Black of the Port Mafia; experiencing an eerie sense of security only the other’s company could provide.
However, something felt off today. Not necessarily in an alarming way, but the mood shifted palpably somewhere along the way, and the dizzying contrast compared to other times blanketed them like a fresh sheen of ice at the first frost of the winter. Only it felt warm; too warm not to melt under it.
Dazai moved almost in slow motion, his lanky arm reaching towards the beat-up bedside table in search of the familiar ashtray placed on top of it — a helpful gift Chuuya received from Albatross who picked it up from God knows where while out on a drunken adventure. It became one of his most treasured possessions, especially after Dazai started to come over regularly and they could put it to good use.
With the joint stubbed out, Dazai leaned on the bed to mirror Chuuya’s slumped posture with his back pressed against the bare wall behind the bed. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cool sensation of the surface behind him seep through the rumpled material of his shirt until his senses grew familiar with the cold. Goosebumps rose on his arms under the bandages; he was burning from the inside out.
His senses dimmed in and out of perception, one moment dipping under the hazy surface of alertness, then being over-aware of even the smallest organ in his body the next. Dazai felt blissed out as his murky brain finally took notice of the now oh-so-familiar tingly warmth pooled inside his gut. It made him sick in the best way possible; like a nausea that gave him life instead of bringing him to his knees.
The warmth moved then, tingling sensation crawling up inside his chest, playing on his heartstrings only for a moment before Dazai forced it to climb even higher. Then with a playful abandon, he let it run through his left arm. He almost giggled as he kept sending the scorching buzz all across his body. Being high felt nice; lively.
Being high felt like bickering with Chuuya.
Chuuya has been a vibrant beam of light in his life even on the darkest nights ever since they met a year ago. He was tiny but fierce, glazing angry-red when battling a real enemy yet all hues of bubbly oranges and blues when arguing with Dazai. Both sights were equally breathtaking.
Dazai’s head lulled sideways and his eyes popped open after what felt like an eternity of being submerged in a warm daze.
Chuuya was beautiful even now in the dim lighting of the room, only a few rays of the setting sun escaping through the holes in the curtains. Once his vision cleared and his gaze set on Chuuya, Dazai couldn’t look away. Not even if he was forced at gunpoint.
Just as getting high together, being unable to tear his wandering ever wandering eyes from his partner wasn’t the first time either. Chuuya seemed to catch his attention more than he was willing to acknowledge — it was a ridiculous amount for such a tiny chibi. Ridiculous.
Luckily, Dazai's sober mind was easy to distract. Be it a silly bet, an argument, a game, or one of his newest suicidal ideations, ignoring Chuuya’s bright features became almost second nature over the years of their partnership.
The vivid tint of his too-orange hair, the deep blue depths of his eyes, the pearl of his teeth as his canine caught on Chuuya’s lower lip whenever he smirked his challenging, cocky grin—
Dazai, high and dazzled, was not that composed though. Through the murky, mellow mist clouding his brain, his senses oddly sharpened towards his partner’s presence. Chuuya made his chest convulse as if he were the smoke itself, making him feel like he was floating in zero gravity. Dazai’s eyes almost burned as he tried to take in every little detail of the boy sitting next to him.
Chuuya’s head was tilted slightly towards Dazai as if their bodies were mirroring each other intentionally. His bright, ginger locks curled around his round cheeks like tendrils framing a unique art piece — his hair got longer since they met, and Dazai didn’t miss the tiny ponytail Chuuya wore on his days off. While the apple of his cheeks rounded with the remnants of baby fat he had only built up in the past year under Kouyou’s expert watch, his jaw sharpened significantly into a manly arch.
Dazai’s gaze shifted upwards, running over chapped, pink lips. Parting slightly, invitingly. Oh, Dazai imagined kissing those very same lips a stupid amount, not that he’d be willing to tell his partner that; he’d never live off the shame of such a confession of craving contact with a slimy slug.
Completely losing track of time, he didn’t know how long he was gazing at Chuuya, analyzing the tantalizing blues of his bloodshot eyes until he finally realized that the other boy was staring back at him just as intently as he was. Dazai’s eyes widened slightly in recognition as their gazes intertwined. The silence between them stretched taut, the air filled with something inexplicable, something electric , and Dazai’s breath hitched as Chuuya’s lips started to move.
“What are you thinking about?” Chuuya’s voice was hoarse, weak from staying silent for so long. Dazai followed the motion of his tongue as he licked his chapped lips to help with the dryness of his mouth. The water bottle they left at the kitchen counter was only a forgotten afterthought on Dazai’s mind.
For a long second, Dazai didn’t even realize that the other had spoken. The husky sound of his words circled around in his brain aimlessly like a daydream while he continued to stare at Chuuya’s lips wetted with saliva. Dazai’s heart slowly started its descent towards his lower belly the moment he realized that Chuuya abandoned his place, leaned against the backrest, and started to move. Close, close, closer—
His next words were spoken from such close proximity that Dazai could feel the warmth of his breath against his cheeks.
“ ‘Zai, what are you thinking about?”
Dazai’s brain blanked. What was he thinking about just now?
His stomach flipped, taking his heart on a spin. He licked his dry lips — too dry for it to only be because of the joint they smoked — and opened his mouth to answer. He gaped once, twice without making a sound. What was he—
“I wanna kiss you,” Dazai blurted, the raw truth of his most well-kept desire ripping from his chest without control.
Perhaps, in a more sober moment, Chuuya’s eyes would’ve widened in shock. He might’ve even blushed in embarrassment; anger even at Dazai for playing games. And Dazai would, without a doubt make it seem like a joke, covering his careless mistake with cruel jabs and hurtful remarks. He’d try to save face, before all — before caring about the wetness of Chuuya’s eyes, or the tiny, barely there but still noticeable self-deprecatory frown curving the corner of his lips upward. Dazai would blame it all on the weed, on the intoxication smoke etched inside his lungs.
Hell, he’d even claim insanity , if it were to help his case. If it allowed him to remain behind the walls no one was allowed to breach.
Instead of all that, Chuuya licked his lips again in an absentminded gesture and leaned forward without giving Dazai a chance to second guess himself, Chuuya, or even simply them.
They met halfway in an awkward, dry press of lips. It wasn’t even what one would call a proper kiss, yet it stole the remaining oxygen from Dazai’s lungs. He almost choked as his next breath stuck in his throat; one of his hands found Chuuya’s already rumpled shirt and clutched it, pulling him even closer.
Their lips smushed together almost bruisingly, the pressure getting more and more painful by the second. Dazai didn’t hesitate further to open his mouth and flick his tongue out experimentally, licking over Chuuya’s lower lip. The surprised little gasp that escaped Chuuya’s throat upon the wet touch made his head spin.
After what felt like forever they eventually separated, not going too far, only leaving enough space between their faces so they could look at each other without going cross-eyed. Dazai’s brain felt too dizzy, too slow to process what just happened. Luckily, his instincts still worked just fine. He gulped audibly as his gaze raked over Chuuya’s face starting from his lips still glistening with Dazai’s saliva to his hooded eyes, dark blue like the water at Yokohama Bay after sundown.
The eye contact felt heavy, charged with thousands of unspoken desires. Yet, there was no rush.
It wasn’t clear who moved first, and honestly, there was no point in even trying to find out because, in the next second, they were already falling against each other. As their lips met again, now moving against one another with purpose, tongues meeting timidly at first then with growing confidence, Dazai could feel the simmering desperation coil in his gut. It felt warm, pasty, an odd swirling sensation that shouldn’t have felt this amicable.
Dazai tilted his head to the side slightly to adjust the angle and his chest tightened as Chuuya followed along without any trace of hesitation, helping him deepen the kiss even further. Every single move they made was in perfect sync.
Chuuya’s hands crawled up to Dazai’s nape without him noticing until slim digits raked through the hair matted against the back of his neck. The sensation kicked him into motion and Dazai’s arms wrapped around Chuuya’s torso; he might’ve even been trembling. Spurred on by a sudden thought, Dazai’s slightly clammy hands landed on Chuuya’s waist, grabbing him tightly and he hoisted Chuuya up until he could pull him into his lap. Chuuya lost his balance under the unexpected demand making their lips separate.
Dazai almost let a whine slip at the loss but then he could feel wet lips slide against his burning cheek as Chuuya moved with him shakily, eventually landing himself in Dazai’s lap after a moment of stumbling. With Chuuya successfully secured against his front, Dazai could reach up and let his fingers slide into the flimsy ponytail resting against Chuuya’s neck at last. His fingers tugged, the thin rubber band letting up under the pressure and snapping in half, making it possible for him to card his digits into the ginger waves properly. They felt unimaginably soft under his touch.
Dazai’s hold locked firmly at Chuuya’s nape, and he finally turned, guiding Chuuya along, and connected their lips once again. He kissed Chuuya with lazy abandon, deepening their contact with every languid lick of his tongue inside Chuuya’s mouth.
Arousal hummed quietly in Dazai’s lower belly, almost as an afterthought as his arms tightened around Chuuya’s body, bringing him impossibly closer. Their hips collided upon the movement. They were both half-hard, yet neither of them acknowledged it further than some breathy gasps while they remained pressed flush together. For once since they first met, there was no rush, no competition — Dazai felt content just like that, with the heat of desire simmering lowly inside his groin but never blazing hotter than the buzz of his cloudy mind.
Time ceased to exist around them as they kept making out lazily. It could’ve easily been only bare seconds or thousands of hours since they shared their very first kiss and Dazai wouldn’t know it. It didn’t matter though, nothing did in that secure little bubble of theirs. Leisurely, as the heat dimmed and the kisses started to grow shallower and shallower by the minute, they separated for a longer time with each peck.
In the end, it was Chuuya who broke their last kiss, leaning away from Dazai with a tired yet content little sigh. Dazai opened his eyes at the sound but he didn’t have the opportunity to fully take in Chuuya’s expression — something inexplicable he wasn’t yet familiar with but too comfortable to actually dwell on right now — before Chuuya tilted forward, pliant and warm against Dazai’s chest, and hid his face into his bandage covered neck.
Chuuya’s damp breath against his oversensitive skin made Dazai shiver faintly. The feather-light contact, the homey weight of Chuuya draped over him, and the domesticity of simply being together made Dazai’s head lull against the top of Chuuya’s. He felt safe, comfortable like this.
Dazai wasn’t ready to talk yet, and Chuuya’s even, quiet breathing told him that his partner wasn’t ready for it either. Fortunately, they didn’t even get the opportunity to cross that bridge just yet because the idyllic moment they were sharing got interrupted rudely by a loud knock coming from the front door.
They both jolted, startled by the sudden noise. The knock repeated, and for a fleeting moment, going only by the impatient insistence of the sound, Dazai’s stomach dropped in unease thinking it must be Kouyou at Chuuya’s front door. She must be standing there, fuming because she somehow got wind of how Dazai was corrupting her newest protege. She must’ve used witchcraft to track Dazai down, to know; she must be a demon herself, just like her ability.
Despite his spiraling thoughts and the looming threat of an angry older sister figure storming the place any minute, neither Chuuya nor Dazai were moving from their positions.
“Chuuya, can you hear me? I know you’re in there, I can smell it, y’know?” Albatross’ familiar voice coming through the door broke the tension he didn’t even realize was growing inside his chest. Dazai let out a relieved sigh at the playful words, while Chuuya huffed a chuckle against his skin, still not moving an inch. “Are we still on for movie night? Got that weird frozen pizza thingy Doc found at the convenience store last week. The one with the marshmallows.”
At the mention of food, Chuuya came alive inside Dazai’s arms. He straightened his posture while his head perked up — just like the dog he is, Dazai noted to himself — and he turned towards the door to make his hoarse voice travel better through the hard surface.
“I’ll be up in a moment!” Chuuya shouted back to his friend and Dazai winced this time from the volume. “You are the best, ‘Tross, I’m starving.”
They were finished for the day, it seemed; the quiet solitude of their afternoon was gone just like that. Dazai tried to not feel bitter about it, he had no reason to.
“I bet,” Albatross chuckled as he audibly stepped back from the door to head up to his own apartment one floor up. “Gonna pop it in the oven, see you in a sec.”
The muffled “Bring your demon spawn boyfriend if you want to” remained unheard between Dazai and Chuuya; it wasn’t even a good enough joke to acknowledge right now, not when neither of them was willing to talk.
Even with the unsaid words hanging above them, Dazai couldn’t help but let a mischievous little smirk slip through the cracks of his usually nonchalant mask as Chuuya turned back to him. His throat felt uncharacteristically tight as Chuuya’s gaze remained unwavering for a heartbeat longer, bloodshot eyes startlingly attentive as he kept perceiving Dazai. His heartbeat picked up the more they stayed like that; his next gulp was painfully audible.
Chuuya’s eyes flickered and followed the movement of his Adam’s apple, then his clear blue gaze snapped upwards to meet Dazai’s again. Before their eye contact could grow overwhelming though, Chuuya’s mouth tilted and a playful snort slipped through his nose.
“You look so stupid right now, Mackerel,” he stated airily. As if they didn’t just spend the last couple hours (?) making out; as if they weren't supposed to be nothing more than rivals slash circumstantial work partners.
Dazai’s answer came out more hoarse than he’d prefer it to be. “Chuuya’s the one who’s stupid, such a tiny body must come with a tiny brain.” To emphasize his words, Dazai's hands tightened to squeeze Chuuya’s waist for a moment, then he let go completely as Chuuya shrugged him off lightly.
“You are stupid,” Chuuya repeated, almost smugly as he started to stumble out of Dazai’s lap only to freeze mid-motion. It happened in the blink of an eye, Dazai could feel soft lips pressed against his just for a second then the sensation was gone. It was too fast for him to react, too fleeting for him to even think about grabbing Chuuya and— “I have a pizza to devour now, feel free to let yourself out~”
And with that, Chuuya was out the front door without further elaboration. Dazai stared after him dazedly until he realized just how stupid he must look, sitting there gazing at the empty doorway of the room. He leaned back with a heavy sigh, suddenly feeling exhausted, and let his body slowly slide down into a half-sitting position against the wall. The surface behind him felt too cold now that Chuuya wasn’t there to keep him warm and cozy, and the tingling warmth left behind by the smoke was also long gone from his system.
Dazai grabbed the lone pillow from next to him on the bed and buried his face into the soft fabric as he wiggled around to lay on his side more comfortably. It was silent here in Chuuya’s apartment. Peaceful. It was almost too easy for him to slip into a dreamless slumber surrounded by Chuuya’s familiar scent. He closed his eyes with a silent promise to himself that it’d be only for just a moment, and then he’d leave before Chuuya got back in the early hours of the morning.
It’d be alright even if he accidentally failed to leave before that and wake up next to his partner, he could always just tell Chuuya that no, Chuuya’s wrong and he is the only stupid between the two of them during breakfast. Or he could kiss him again, you know, that wouldn’t be that terrible either.