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For three years, valentine's day had been something to look forward too.
Begrudgingly.
He'd never admit it.
However, he had always secretly waited for Dazai to show up at his door with some snacks and a complaint already prepared.
He would tell himself that the hour long shower every 13th of February was just coincidence, along with the changed bedsheets, and the stocked up cupboards, and the charged laptop and new movies.
It was all coincidence.
They were just using each other.
They were bored and alone on a couples holiday. That was all it had ever been.
It was just a wish for affection. That was the only reason they'd curl up in Chuuya's bed together and watch crappy romcoms, and why Dazai would steal whatever clothes Chuuya had that would fit him, and run his fingers through Chuuya's hair.
That was the only reason they'd have dinner together, and the only reason they'd eventually find themselves softly kissing as they got later into the evening.
Because they'd wake up the next morning and after an annoyingly domestic morning, they'd pretend it never happened.
Because Dazai never liked him.
If he had...
The shower Chuuya had taken the night before was purely a force of habit.
Which was stupid.
The fact that his laptop sat fully charged on his desk was also stupid.
Same with the snacks in the cupboard, chocolate and strawberry slightly too sweet for his own tastes.
And now, it was the 14th of February, and the sky was grey and overcast.
Of course he was working. He didn't want to be in his house. He'd spend the entire day waiting for the sound of his door unlocking.
After Dazai had broke a hairpin in his lock he had given him a key.
He was going to find a way in either way. Rather it was safe and didn't involve picklocks.
He still hasn't changed the locks.
Dazai's key would still work.
It was already five in the evening. He'd been burying himself in paperwork.
Dazai's departure from the mafia had resulted in double the workload for Chuuya.
Not only would Mori not fill his executive seat, but apparently Chuuya was the only person who could be trusted to reliably pick apart Dazai's more confusing strategies and plans.
The only person who knew how he worked.
God, everything just had to tie back to that prick, didn't it?
With a sigh and a swish of his coat, Chuuya left his office, making the decision to walk home.
The shops all had flowers in their display windows. Hearts and pink and red everywhere. Advertising love, making it into something marketable, that they could profit off of.
He hated how it worked.
It seemed to be that everywhere he looked there was a couple, clinging onto each others arms and carrying flowers or gifts.
There was a couple dancing on the grass near a bridge, the grass glittering with frost under each step they took.
It briefly reminded him of Dazai.
For the bridge and Dazai's suicidal tendencies, or for the fluid way they moved, and the way he was sure he and Dazai could dance the same, he wasn't sure.
Just that it made him feel a sickening sense of loneliness.
Dazai could be dead. There was no way to be certain.
He was convinced he wasn't. The scheming and coniving bastard was so bad at suicide it was laughable. It shouldn't be. It was always concerning. But Dazai can't handle concern.
Maybe he shouldn't have cared about whether Dazai could handle it. Maybe he should have pulled Dazai back into bed one of those stupid mornings.
Held him so tightly that they would both shatter from the force, and come out of it new. Whole again, somehow.
As he passed another store, he paused, and sighed.
The warmth of the store was overwhelming compared to the cold outside, which he hadn't even noticed while walking.
He headed straight for the alcohol isle, but he passed a card stand, a dark blue card with stars catching his eyes.
'For my world- for my eternity- for my love, for my life'
It was cheesy, and stupid. Another stupid card for this stupid holiday.
He found a nice wine. A good alcohol content.
He put the wine and a dark blue card down at the till.
The cashier- a young brunette girl with pretty eyes, probably his age- smiled kindly when it was his turn.
"I'm sure your girlfriend would appreciate some flowers as well, if you want to make her really happy." She said jokingly as she spotted the card.
Chuuya cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Not a girlfriend." He said, smiling politely despite how much the assumption hurt. The girl didn't mean anything by it.
It wasn't the assumption that it was a girl he was going home to that hurt, it was the one that he was going home to someone at all. Which was a fair one to make, given the card.
The cashier had the decency to look apologetic.
"Oh, sorry. Though, a boyfriend would probably like flowers as well." She said, and Chuuya gave her the money for his things.
"Yeah. Probably." He said, taking his stuff and leaving.
He stared at the card for most of the way home. He wasn't even sure why he got it. He just had.
As he got to the building he lived in it started to snow softly, and he took the elevator to his floor, stepping into the hall, pausing to look at the snow dancing under the streetlights from the window.
The snow wouldn't stick for long. It was too warm for that.
When he got to the door of his apartment, he put the key in the lock to find it already open.
With a sigh, and a wave of some undeterminable emotion- one somewhere between grief and relief, he pushed open the door.
The lights were off, but he didn't turn any on until he got to the kitchen, flipping the light on and getting a pen, signing the card.
The next thing he grabbed was two wine glasses, and he walked quietly through the rest of his house until he got to his bedroom, the door already open and a cold draft coming from within.
And there he was.
Standing on the balcony as though he had always been there.
Chuuya didn't say anything as he joined him, setting the glasses down on the small table, taking note of the cigarette between Dazai's fingers.
Dazai looked sick. And tired. He was dressed differently, a pair of black jeans and a tshirt. He was probably freezing, the bandages the only thing covering his arms, but he didn't complain.
Chuuya took a deep breath.
"This is a mafia owned building. You took a big risk in coming here." He said, voice quiet as he poured the wine into the two glasses.
"I did." Dazai said, no intonation behind his voice.
Chuuya cleared his throat and lifted one of the glasses to his lips, taking a sip before responding.
"You left." Is what he settled on saying.
"I did." Dazai just said again, taking the final draw of his cigarette and flicking it out.
"Without saying anything. To anyone. And you're not coming back. Are you?"
"...I'm not."
Chuuya looked out at the skyline. Anywhere would be better than Dazai's face right now.
"Okay."
There was silence for a few seconds, and neither of them moved until Dazai picked up the wine glass intended for him.
"I was trying to stop drinking." Dazai commented as he took a long sip.
Chuuya raised an eyebrow, but still didn't turn to face Dazai again.
"Really? Why are you doing it now then?"
"The glass was clearly meant for me. I didn't manage to stop anyway." Dazai said dismissively.
The same way he'd talked about everything.
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't try."
Dazai just hummed.
Chuuya sighed, and he turned to lean his back against the railing, looking at Dazai with a level expression.
"Why are you here." Chuuya asked blankly, crossing his arms, being mindful of the half empty glass he was holding.
Dazai took a moment to respond.
"...this has always been our thing." Dazai took a deep breath, as though it pained him to say the words.
"I needed you. This. Just for a little while."
"Did consider that this might have been the last thing I needed, or wanted?" Chuuya asked accusingly.
"I did, but I've always been selfish." Dazai said, and Chuuya realised Dazai had removed the bandages for his face.
There were no injuries. His skin was clear, aside from a two small scars on his cheek and above his eyebrow.
Chuuya shook his head, and the pushed himself up, walking back into the relative warmth of his room and switching a lamp on.
"What are you doing?" Dazai asked, sounding confused.
Chuuya huffed dramatically, facing away from Dazai and pretending there wasn't tears in his eyes.
"Are we gonna watch some movies or are you going to stand and freeze in the cold all night?" Chuuya said, throwing some clothes Dazai could wear on his bed, accompanied by the laptop.
Dazai was inside and changing quickly, while Chuuya left to get snacks.
When he came back in, Dazai was changed and sitting on the right side of Chuuya's bed. Dazai's side of Chuuya's bed.
Chuuya closed the balcony door, then sat next to Dazai.
"By the way." He said shortly, grabbing the front of the shirt Dazai was wearing and pulling him close, pressing their lips together firmly, surprised when Dazai easily fell pliant against him, opening his mouth like he was ready to take it further.
Chuuya pulled away though, and glared at Dazai instead.
"Fuck you. I hate you, and I will never forgive you."
Dazai nodded.
"I understand." Dazai whispered, looking at Chuuya with wide eyes, as though committing him to memory.
Chuuya wouldn't lie and say he wasn't doing the same. Or that he wasn't dying to put his lips back on Dazai's.
But instead he let go, and opened his laptop.
"We're watching '10 things I hate about you'." Chuuya decided, and Dazai settled into the bed.
"Why, because you're Kat but as a short angry ginger?" Dazai teased with a smile.
Despite the annoyance at the insult, Chuuya felt fondness creeping up on him, only slightly tainted with grief and anger.
"Yeah and you're totally the guy." He said back, rolling his eyes.
"The least you could do is remember his name! How many times have we watched this- and you still don't know it!"
"Shut the fuck up before I smother you with a pillow."
"Please?"
"Fuck off."
---
The silence after his front door quietly closed and locked was deafening.
Chuuya could still feel the warmth from where Dazai's body had been. He could still feel where Dazai's hands had been the night before and as they slept.
He could feel the spot on his cheek Dazai had kissed while he pretended to still be asleep- pretended to not know Dazai was leaving again.
He couldn't blame Dazai, he couldn't hate him, not matter how much he tried.
As he sat up, fighting back the feelings in his chest, he finally noticed the flowers sitting in a vase on his dresser, neatly arranged.
Instead of roses, it was tulips, a sunflower at the centre of the bouquet, and lavender and forget-me-nots dotted around, mixed in with baby's breath as filler flowers.
He doesn't think he's ever hated Dazai more.
Walking down the street with his hood up, Dazai's eyes trail over the card with the stars, and the message.
'For my world- for my eternity- for my love, for my life'
He opened the card, reading the written words for what must have been the hundredth time already.
'My annoyance, my grief, my heart, my soul, my humanity. Twin flames, gems from the same rock, a star and a planet, a double edged blade. Soulmates, keep mine while I keep yours. Hold my heart carefully, treat it with care. I will cradle yours as if it were my own. Return for it one day, please?'
Words that had no intention of being read, likely.
Words that have already been memorised.
He doesn't think he's ever loved Chuuya more.