Nakahara Chuuya does not have many regrets. He's proud, unapologetic about who he is and what he's done.
...Dazai is one of the few regrets he has.
Chuuya doesn't regret meeting him, which is a strange and utterly terrifying conclusion to come to. These past few weeks have changed his mind completely when it comes to Dazai. Disregarding the mind-blowing sex they'd had, Chuuya finds himself actually enjoying Dazai's company, which is a feat in of itself. Because Dazai makes it hard to do so. It's a push and pull between them, Chuuya pushing Dazai to open up, to be vulnerable– but whenever he thinks he gets close, Dazai pulls away.
Right now, Chuuya doesn't really blame him. He's not good with words. In his desperate attempt to tell Dazai not to hurt himself, he'd fucked up, possibly beyond repair. Who the fuck says something like that in the first place? He feels horrible, like he's no better than Yuan at this point. He feels like a hypocrite.
He hadn't been able to think of any other way, except to admit what he doesn't want to, that he does care about Dazai, that he doesn't want Dazai hurting. Why is it so goddamn hard to admit to himself? How can he begin to repair their relationship after saying something so horrible?
It doesn't help that Dazai is adamant on pretending nothing happened between them, that Chuuya hadn't hurt him. When he shows up for the fitting, there's a bright grin on his face that doesn't reach his eyes. He's wearing casual clothes, easy enough to take off, and takes his shoes off at the door, leaving them there and stepping inside in just his socks.
"Chuuya!" He chimes. "Sorry for going off the grid! My phone was off. Did you miss me?"
Strangely, the answer is yes. In this moment, to make up for what he'd said before, Chuuya can't find it in himself to indulge in his usual behavior of brushing Dazai off.
"Yes." Chuuya says, and Dazai blinks at him, surprised. His smile turns a little bit bitter.
"Wahh, Chuuya," He murmurs. "You don't need to lie to make me feel better. I'm really fine!"
It hurts just a bit knowing that Dazai doesn't believe him. But once again, Chuuya can't really blame him. They'd made so much progress, and then– then Chuuya had opened his fat mouth and ruined it.
"Whatever." He grits out, irritated at himself. "Come here and take a look at these sketches, okay?"
Dazai hums a little tune and follows Chuuya to his desk, looking over his shoulder at the said drawings. Chuuya turns his face to look at him, and all of his breath leaves his lungs at how close they are. Dazai seems unbothered, but Chuuya's skin is buzzing at their proximity. If he leaned in just a little closer– but no. He's not going to do that. They have rules for a reason.
Even if Chuuya had been a hypocrite and broken them. He watches Dazai's lips twitch as he fights a smile, and Chuuya can't help the frustration that pulses through him.
"What?" He demands. "Are you gonna say they're tacky, or something?"
Dazai shakes his head.
"Not at all." He says. Then he lifts his left index finger and points at one of the sketches. "I like this one."
Ah. That one. Chuuya is a bit embarrassed to say he designed it with Dazai in mind. After seeing him in that turtleneck, that is.
The outfit is pretty simple. An oversized dark brown corduroy jacket over a sleeveless cream turtleneck, and olive green shorts that are cut to look like a skirt when the wearer's legs aren't separated.
"That one?" Chuuya asks weakly. Dazai nods.
"Is it a skirt?" He questions. "Or just shorts?"
"Shorts." Chuuya says, clarifying. "But they'll look like a skirt with your legs closed. Sounds good?"
Dazai nods again. He looks like he has something to say, but he hesitates first. Chuuya waits as patiently as he can manage.
"Are we trying on the pieces today?" Dazai ends up saying, and Chuuya blinks at him, because yeah, that had been the plan.
"Just the shorts and the turtleneck." He clarifies. Dazai fidgets for a moment, and then nods with determination.
"Okay." He agrees. He pulls off his clothes with grace and fluidity, and Chuuya feels like a goldfish, his mouth opening and closing around words that never leave. Because Dazai looks good. He curses himself for making him think he doesn't.
But there's something else. Dazai's bandages are thicker, like he'd wrapped another layer on top of them. A lump forms in Chuuya's throat and his eyes start to sting a bit. He clears his throat and walks towards the hangers in the corner of his room, where the garments rest. Dazai turns to watch, and a light laugh leaves him. His eyes crinkle at the edges. It's beautiful. Chuuya forces himself to look away.
"I didn't even notice." Dazai says. "They were right there?"
Chuuya nods, grabbing the hangers and resting them on the bed. He gets the turtleneck first, since it'll be easier to tuck it into the shorts after. He hands it to Dazai.
"Here." He says, his mouth dry. "Try this one first."
Dazai hesitates before taking it.
"If it's all the same to you," He says, his voice small. "I think I'd like to keep them on today."
Chuuya is confused for just a split second before the meaning registers. Oh. The lump in his throat is back.
"Of course." He agrees. "Whatever makes you more comfortable."
Dazai nods, slipping it over his head. The top of his head pops out through the neck easily, and his arms slip through the openings where the sleeves should be. It looks a bit snug, except for the neck.
"Is the neck loose?" Chuuya asks, and Dazai tilts his head.
"A little bit." He says, so Chuuya grabs a pin and walks behind him, getting up on his tiptoes to mark where he needs to alter it.
"Better?"
"Yeah." Dazai fidgets a little bit, picking at his bandages.
"Stay still." Chuuya mumbles, slipping his fingers under the edges of the arm holes to see if they're loose, too. Dazai shivers, but stays otherwise still as a statue, his fingers freezing where they pinch at the edges of his bandages.
"Okay." He says, and it's more of a light breath than a real word.
"Don't get any ideas," Chuuya warns, as he pulls away. "Shorts next."
Dazai nods emphatically and takes the shorts from Chuuya's outstretched hands, slipping them over his long legs– and it's then that Chuuya notices how smooth they are.
"Did you shave?" He asks, bewildered. Dazai blinks at him like it was the obvious choice.
"If you were gonna put me in a skirt, I doubt you'd want to look at my hairy legs." Dazai says, and Chuuya flushes. It really shouldn't affect him so much.
"Yeah, well…" He stumbles over his words. Giving up, he hands Dazai a brown belt. "Wear this, too."
Dazai slips the belt through the loops on the shorts and tightens it, buckling it in the front.
"How does it look?" He asks, his eyes wide and almost… innocent. It's strange. It's strange how Chuuya's heart pounds in his chest, how his pulse races beneath his skin. He steps back to get a good look and his chest tightens. The shorts are cinched perfectly around Dazai's small waist, falling to the middle of his thighs, and the fabric is loose enough around his legs that it could pass for a skirt, with his legs closed like that.
"Good." Chuuya croaks. "You look good."
The smile Dazai gives him is so soft, the kind where his eyes crinkle, and it's so beautiful that Chuuya almost leans forward to kiss him. Almost meaning he begins to, but Dazai suddenly takes a step back, clearing his throat. Frustration roils in Chuuya's gut, but he forces himself to calm down.
After all, it's against the rules. The two previous times they'd broken them– it had been Chuuya's fault. Even though he hates to admit it. Even though he'd pinned the blame on Dazai. But then again… why does there need to be rules in the first place?
His excuse has always been that he doesn't have time, that he's focusing on his studies, but… that doesn't seem to matter when he's with Dazai. Dazai, who fakes a smile to keep Chuuya from worrying, who denies it when Chuuya points it out, who brushes aside the hurt from Chuuya's tactless comments like it's nothing, who says it's okay, that he's over it, that it doesn't matter, when it's obvious that he's still hurting. Chuuya wants to kiss him again.
Disregarding the time he has, his studies, his secret admirer– right.
"Ah," Chuuya says, trying to fill the sudden silence. "The note."
Dazai's eyebrows raise, curious. Chuuya walks over to his desk and picks up the sticky note, walking back to Dazai's side to show it to him. Dazai scans the note, expressionless.
"Well?" Chuuya asks, a little bit impatient. "What do you think?"
"I think this person is desperate." Dazai deadpans. Chuuya huffs frustratedly.
"Not that." He says. "Anyone could tell that. Do you notice anything? The handwriting, does it seem familiar?"
Dazai smirks smugly. It makes Chuuya want to punch him or kiss him or fuck him, just to get that look off of his face. He holds himself back before he can do something stupid, like try to kiss Dazai again.
"How would I know that?" Dazai teases. "They're in your class, not mine."
Chuuya frowns.
"I guess." He says. "I have someone in mind, I think."
He misses the way Dazai stiffens slightly. His mind is occupied by other things. Other things being how criminal it is for Dazai to look so good in his clothes.
"Oh yeah?" Dazai asks. "Who?"
"Tachihara Michizou." Chuuya says absent-mindedly. "He's in my patterning class. He asks me for help a lot, just like you said. Half the time he already knows how to do it!"
Dazai's eyebrows draw together, and his eyes harden a bit.
"Well?" He asks, sounding a bit miffed. "What do you think? Do you like him?"
Chuuya shrugs.
"I don't have time to think about that." He turns to set the note back down, and then walks around Dazai to get a look at the way the clothes fall on him. "Has anyone ever told you you look really good in green?"
Dazai blinks at him, wide-eyed, his lips parted in what seems to be shock.
"No." He says quietly, and then huffs a soft laugh. "But there's a first time for everything, isn't there?"
Chuuya nods, a bit dazed.
"They should tell you," He affirms. Dazai tilts his head, confused, so he continues. "They should tell you you look good. It's true."
Dazai smirks, but it looks almost… bitter.
"You're just saying that." Dazai murmurs.
"Would you stop that?!" Chuuya snaps. His eyes are stinging again. "I told you that I was sorry, and that I didn't mean it. Why don't you believe me?"
Dazai stiffens, and he pinches at the back of his hand nervously.
"I believe you," He tries, but Chuuya knows better.
"Stop lying to me." He hisses. "Just tell the truth already! I hurt you, didn't I? So say it!"
"I…" Dazai says, backing up a little. "You didn't mean it. It's fine. I know it's not pleasant to look at. I shouldn't have taken it so personally–"
"Bullshit." Chuuya interrupts him. "Yeah, I didn't mean it. But it's perfectly fine that you took time for yourself. It's okay that you were mad, or sad, or whatever. It's okay if you still are. So just come out with it already, and stop pretending it didn't hurt at all."
Dazai presses his mouth into a firm line, refusing to speak, so Chuuya continues.
"I can tell." He chokes out. "I could tell then, too. You looked really hurt. You looked sad, and betrayed, and that's okay, because I betrayed you by saying that." He has to look away from Dazai, because his eyes are starting to water, and he doesn't want to guilt Dazai into forgiving him. "I really didn't mean it, okay? I was trying to… I don't know, I was trying to show you I cared. It sounds stupid, but I really just… didn't want to say it outright."
"Chuuya." Dazai says, and Chuuya looks back at him, sniffling. Dazai is wearing a torn expression, the face he makes when he's trying to pick and choose what emotion to portray. His face settles on a smug grin. "You care about me?"
"That's what you're getting from that?!" Chuuya screeches. Then he rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Yes, okay, you bastard? I care about you. I don't think you're ugly. If anything…"
Chuuya hadn't thought it was possible for Dazai to look any more smug than before, but it still manages to happen.
"If anything?" Dazai asks, stepping closer.
"You–" Chuuya starts, and yanks Dazai down by the front of the turtleneck. "You know what? Fuck it."
He pulls Dazai into a bruising kiss, nipping at his lip from the get-go. Dazai struggles for just long enough that Chuuya pulls back to check that he's okay.
"We shouldn't–" Dazai gasps. "You said– the rules, Chuuya."
"Fuck the rules." Chuuya growls. "Who cares about them, anyways?"
"I–" Dazai starts, his expression conflicted for a moment before it settles into one of determination. "Yeah, okay."
This time it's Dazai who leans in first, pulling at Chuuya's shirt to get him closer, their teeth clacking together painfully with the force of the kiss. Dazai licks along the seam of his lips and Chuuya parts them to let him in. Heat curls wickedly in his gut when that tongue rubs against the roof of his mouth, and Dazai threads a hand into Chuuya's hair, gentle, contrasting harshly with the passionate meeting of their lips.
Chuuya finally pulls away, breathing heavily, and yanks Dazai's arms up.
"Clothes off." He says. "I'm not fucking you in them. I worked hard on these, I don't want them ruined."
"Yeah–" Dazai's breath hitches as he speaks, and he fumbles to get the turtleneck up and over his head. The shorts go too, but Dazai struggles with the belt first, his hands jittery and shaking. Chuuya makes a dissatisfied noise and undoes it for him, unzipping the shorts and practically yanking them down his legs. Dazai steps out of them and Chuuya follows, tearing off his own clothes at record speed.
"Fold them." Chuuya orders, and he expects Dazai to complain, but he doesn't, just does as he's told and sets the garments on Chuuya's desk. "Good."
He's positive he's not imagining the shiver that wracks Dazai's thin frame, and it makes him grin just a little bit. Dazai pulls his boxers off next, and his hands tighten into fists as he waits. Patient, Chuuya thinks approvingly.
"What do you want?" Chuuya asks, finally naked himself. He walks closer to Dazai and presses a hand against his chest, flat against his pectoral. Dazai's breath hitches, his pupils blown wide, and his face flits between several expressions at once, like he can't decide.
"Whatever you'll give me." He manages, eventually, and Chuuya hums. He has some ideas.
"Want me to fuck you?" Chuuya's hand trails down Dazai's chest to the concave of his stomach. "Would you like that?"
Dazai stiffens against him, biting onto his lip, harsh enough that it starts bleeding.
"I don't…" He trails off without finishing, like he's embarrassed.
"We don't have to." Chuuya reassures him. "But if you wanted it, I would make it good for you." Dazai shudders under his touch. "I would make it so good."
"Maybe, yeah–" Dazai struggles to speak, but Chuuya is patient. He can wait.
"Maybe isn't good enough," He scolds gently. "I need a real answer."
Dazai is silent for a little bit longer, and then his hands come up to fist in Chuuya's shirt. Avoiding Chuuya's gaze, he releases his torn lip from between his teeth and says,
"Please."
It's dead quiet. Chuuya is stunned into silence.
"Please, Chuuya." Dazai whispers. "Whatever you'll give me, I want it. So… please."
"Okay," Chuuya says, breathlessly. "Fuck, okay. Bed, now."
Dazai follows orders, climbing onto the bed and just laying there. He looks like a man awaiting his own execution, tense, eyes unfocused.
"I showered before I came here," He says. "And you know. Cleaned up. So you don't have to worry."
Chuuya snorts, climbing between his legs.
"Good to know," He agrees. "But I wasn't worried."
He smooths his hands over Dazai's open thighs and they twitch slightly inward, like they want to close. Chuuya doesn't let them. His hands force them open, and Dazai turns his head to the side, his hair falling into his eyes. There's an embarrassed flush riding on his cheeks and chest.
"You're fine." Chuuya soothes him. "If you don't like it, I'll stop, okay?"
Dazai's breathing stutters for a moment before evening out.
"I trust you." He says, his voice hoarse. "So just get on with it, already."
Chuuya smirks.
"I don't think I will." He murmurs, and slides down between Dazai's legs to bite at one of his thighs. Dazai tenses, shuddering, so Chuuya releases the skin and soothes it with his tongue. "I think I'm gonna take my time with you."
Dazai makes a frustrated noise deep in his throat, but doesn't protest. Interesting. Chuuya trails kisses up his inner thigh, stopping when he gets close enough to Dazai's hard cock that his breath hitches. Chuuya hums, rubbing at the slit with the pad of his index finger, and Dazai shudders again, his stomach flexing as he visibly resists the urge to move, to buck into Chuuya's touch.
"Good." Chuuya says again, and pulls away. Dazai makes an unhappy, worried noise.
"What are you doing?" He asks, sounding out of it and not altogether there as Chuuya fumbles under his bed frame for– there it is. He pulls out a half empty bottle of lube and uncaps it, getting his fingers nice and slick and wrapping them around Dazai's cock. "Oh. Oh."
Chuuya huffs a soft laugh as Dazai's hips twitch, jerking just slightly into the stroking of his fingers. He flicks his wrist just to hear the breathless gasp it draws from Dazai.
"The bandages–" Dazai starts, blearily, and Chuuya freezes, watching him carefully. "You don't want me to take them off?"
Chuuya has to think very hard about how to answer. He strokes Dazai again, just once, before speaking.
"Are you comfortable with that?" He asks. He won't be offended if Dazai isn't.
Dazai lies still for a moment, as if thinking about it.
"I want to keep them on." He whispers, and it sends a pang of hurt through Chuuya's chest, but he gets it.
"Then they'll stay on." Chuuya says, and flicks his wrist again, swiping his thumb over the head of Dazai's cock. Dazai's hips twitch again, and he sucks in a sharp breath of air. "You're awfully quiet." Chuuya murmurs.
"I don't–" Dazai grits out. "Shouldn't you be fingering me right now, or something?"
Chuuya rubs tender circles into the meat of Dazai's thigh with his free hand.
"I said I'd take my time with you, and I'm gonna." He says. "So be patient."
Dazai throws his head back, exposing the column of his throat, where the marks Chuuya had left are still fading. He should make new ones. The itch is there, the urge to mark Dazai up again strong in his gut, but he holds back, finally releasing Dazai's cock to trail his hand down further, rubbing slick fingers against his rim. Dazai stiffens, making an odd, breathy noise, so Chuuya stops, glancing up at him again to gauge his reaction.
"You'll tell me if you need me to stop." It's not a question, it's an order. And Dazai just takes it, nodding, his lip caught between his teeth again.
Chuuya hums, and resumes his task of loosening Dazai enough to get a finger in. The constant stimulation does the trick, Dazai's muscles slowly relaxing. He sinks further into the mattress, going almost boneless, and Chuuya is able to get the tip of his finger in, wiggling it gently to loosen him further. Eventually he manages to get it in up to the first, then second knuckle.
"Good?" He asks, and Dazai grunts weakly, his thighs twitching around Chuuya.
"It's fine." Dazai says, sounding irritable. "I've– I've done this before, so come on. Give me more."
His voice is tight, but not pained, so Chuuya wiggles his finger some more, rubbing it against Dazai's walls in languid movements that have Dazai's breath catching in his throat.
"You're gonna have to relax first." Chuuya tells him. "If you want more fingers, you've gotta let me loosen you up."
"I just–" Dazai starts, his voice strained. "Just want you, so come on already."
Chuuya hums again, and pulls his finger halfway out before thrusting it in again. Dazai's hips jerk, and his arms come up to cover his face, like he's afraid of what Chuuya might see if he doesn't. Chuuya takes it in stride, and when he thinks Dazai is ready, he adds another finger.
Dazai tightens up around him immediately, so he halts his fingers, leaning forward to press a wet, languid kiss to the base of Dazai's cock.
"Relax." He murmurs, and Dazai makes a small, indignant noise.
"I'm trying." He hisses. "It's not easy, okay?"
Chuuya hums again and licks a long stripe up Dazai's cock before taking the head into his mouth. After a few moments of just laving his tongue over the slit, Dazai relaxes enough that Chuuya can move his fingers again. He does so carefully, slowly, with gentle thrusts, spreading his fingers apart and stretching Dazai out that way.
Dazai is arching up into his touch, into his mouth, and Chuuya takes it greedily, listens to the barely audible noises he makes, the small, quiet whimpers that leave Dazai's lips when Chuuya's fingers rub close, but not touching his prostate.
"Come on," Dazai says, and his voice breaks around the last word. "I've been patient, so come on, Chuuya–"
Chuuya pulls off his cock and twists his fingers, drawing a pitchy whine from deep in Dazai's chest.
"You can be patient for a little longer." He decides. Dazai shakes his head, frantic.
"I can't." He protests, but Chuuya isn't having it.
"You can, and you will." He says. "You'll need another finger, anyways, so just hold tight."
He crooks his fingers up, searching, and ah–
Dazai jolts, his body seizing, a wrecked sound forcing its way out of his mouth.
"I–" Dazai tries, but it turns into a drawn out moan when Chuuya keeps his fingers there, just massaging his prostate for kicks. "You're– no fair–"
Good on Dazai for figuring it out. Chuuya smirks smugly, and pulls his fingers out just to drive them in with a third. He finds Dazai's prostate again, hitting it occasionally while still stretching him out, and Dazai's hips are jerking in miniscule movements, trying to get more, or get away from the overwhelming pleasure he must be feeling.
"Good?" Chuuya asks, and Dazai nods, arms tightening around his face.
"Yeah," He whimpers. "It's not– it's supposed to hurt."
That makes Chuuya freeze, stopping all his movements and making Dazai whine in protest.
"No it's not." Chuuya says, his heart thundering. "It's supposed to feel good."
Dazai doesn't answer. He's just quiet, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
"Dazai," Chuuya has to fight to keep his voice steady. "Did you agree to do this thinking it would hurt?"
Dazai shifts uncomfortably.
"If it was Chuuya, I wouldn't have minded." He mutters. Chuuya's throat tightens.
"You said you'd done this before." He says, his mind racing. "Did it hurt then?"
Dazai tenses up around his fingers.
"I'd rather not talk about other people fucking me when you're supposed to be the one doing it." Dazai says petulantly. "So come on already."
God. Dazai really knows how to get under Chuuya's skin.
"We're talking about this later," Chuuya grits out. "But fine. You should be loose enough now. Let me grab a condom."
He gets up from the bed to rifle through his desk drawer, and Dazai just lays there, limp and quiet. Chuuya finds the condom and rips open the sachet, clambering back onto the mattress between Dazai's spread legs and rolling the condom onto his own cock, aching from all the neglect. He strokes himself once, twice, just to get the edge off, and pours more lube into his hand to slick himself up. It's probably more than necessary, but Dazai's words come back to him, how he'd thought it was supposed to hurt, and, well, Chuuya wants to prove him wrong.
He crawls forward on his knees and positions himself so that the head of his cock catches against Dazai's rim, but doesn't press in.
"Ready?" He asks, and Dazai just nods, moving one of his arms to grasp blindly at something. It's with a huff of laughter that Chuuya realizes Dazai is trying to hold his hand. If that makes him feel better, then okay, Chuuya can do that. He links their fingers together, and immediately some of the tension leaves Dazai's form. "I'm gonna push in now."
Dazai doesn't answer, just squeezes his hand, and Chuuya feels his heart squeeze, too. Dazai is being so vulnerable with him, letting him have this, letting Chuuya see this part of him, and it's almost too much to handle. He presses in with just the head of his cock and can't stifle the groan he lets out at the feeling of Dazai around him, tight and hot, leaving him wound up and wanting. Dazai breathes in sharply, but manages to stay relaxed enough that Chuuya can push all the way in without meeting much resistance.
Dazai's mouth is opening and closing around words that won't come out, but Chuuya is patient, so as he bottoms out, hips pressing flush against Dazai's, he squeezes Dazai's hand and says,
"When you're ready."
Dazai clenches around him, his body working to get comfortable with the new intrusion, eased slightly by the experience of Chuuya's fingers inside him. He manages a broken sound before he's able to speak.
"Just move, Chuuya." Dazai gasps out, so Chuuya does, pulling almost all the way out just to slam back in in one fluid moment. Dazai lets out a strangled sound, nearly writhing on the bed, and it's such a shame that Chuuya can't reach his mouth like this, can't kiss him until more noises bleed out onto his tongue. He settles for leaning forward and latching onto one of Dazai's nipples with his lips while the hand not holding Dazai's grips at Dazai's hip, bruising.
At the new sensation, Dazai jolts, a surprised noise falling from his lips that turns into a low moan as Chuuya worries his nipple with his teeth before soothing his tongue over it. Chuuya keeps up the pace, rolling his hips forward steadily until Dazai is squirming under him, breathing heavily.
"I don't–" He gasps. "I don't get it, it's not–"
"Feels good, right?" Chuuya asks, pulling away to get a good look at Dazai, flushed red and pliant underneath him. "Doesn't it, Dazai?"
"Yes," The word sounds wretched, ripped from Dazai's lips seemingly without permission, far from his usual composure. He's still hiding his face behind his arm. Chuuya won't be having any of that. He grabs Dazai's wrist in his hand and pulls his arm away from his face, revealing eyes that are screwed tightly shut in pleasure, a perfect mouth that falls open around beautiful sounds that make their way up his throat.
"Good." Chuuya grits out, and angles his hips– there.
Dazai lets out a whine, high and twisted, and his hips jerk.
"That's–" He gasps out. "I'm– more, Chuuya."
Chuuya can only do as he's told when Dazai asks him like that. He wants to hear it again, wants to drink that noise like liquor from Dazai's kiss-swollen lips every single goddamn day. The thought is terrifying as much as it is hot. And Dazai does make that noise again. It's such a shame, such an utter shame that Chuuya can't manage to kiss it off of his lips.
As it is, he settles for leaving kisses and bites up and down Dazai's chest, drinking in the small noises he makes at each one that way.
"Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya," Dazai chants, and it sounds like heaven in Chuuya's ears. Dazai is gripping his hand so tightly it hurts, and his eyes pop open, bleary and hazy with pleasure, his pupils blown wide, before they close again and he struggles against Chuuya's grip on his wrist, so obviously wanting to hide again. "I'm– I want–"
Chuuya presses an open-mouthed kiss to Dazai's chest, sinking his teeth in just a bit, just enough to leave a mark there, before lifting his head.
"Tell me what you want." He says, still angling his hips so that his cock rubs against Dazai's prostate on every thrust. Dazai struggles against him, writhing, hips bucking to get closer, to get away, and a noise similar to a sob leaves his lips. Chuuya's eyes jerk up to scan his face, looking for any sign of pain, but he doesn't find one.
"I want–" Dazai grits out, throwing his head back. "I want– I want to come."
For some reason it sounds like it pains him to say it, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that he's being honest, telling Chuuya what he needs, and that in of itself is so arousing that the heat coiling in Chuuya's gut curls tighter.
"Then come." He says, and this time Dazai does sob.
"I can't." He struggles against Chuuya, bucking his hips up to get more friction, anything, against his cock, which is hard and leaking, and it must hurt with how swollen and red it looks. "I need– need you to touch me, please."
And how is Chuuya meant to refuse something like that? He gives in, wraps a hand around Dazai's cock and tugs. It's too dry, too rough, but Dazai eats it up, takes it like it's nothing, spasming with every stroke as the muscles of his stomach flex.
"C'mon, Dazai," Chuuya whispers heatedly against the skin of Dazai's chest. "Be good and come for me."
That does Dazai in. He lets out a high keen and his cock twitches and jumps in Chuuya's hand, covering his fingers and Dazai's stomach in hot, sticky wetness. And God, if that isn't the hottest thing Chuuya has ever seen in his goddamn life. Dazai groans weakly when Chuuya doesn't stop thrusting, and his eyelids crack open just enough to show large, hazy pupils.
"You come, too." He says, his voice small, and Chuuya can't help it. That tips him over the edge. His hips jerk forward once, twice more, and then he's filling up the condom in hot spurts, collapsing against Dazai, resting his head on his chest.
It's with smug satisfaction that Chuuya realizes just how fast and hard Dazai's heart is pounding, like in the moment he can't manage to control it as he usually can. Dazai makes a weak sound of protest as Chuuya raises himself up enough to pull out, and he has to pry his hand out of Dazai's in order to take the condom off and tie it, tossing it in the bin by his bed.
"How was that?" Chuuya asks. Dazai is quiet, not speaking, so Chuuya turns to look at him, taking in the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the way his hands are fisted in the sheets.
"...Good." Dazai says, eventually. Then he clears his throat, eyes clearing, like he's coming back to himself. "It was good. I… didn't know it could be like that."
Ah. That.
"You made me feel good though, when I rode you." Chuuya pushes gently. He grabs a wet wipe from his desk and wipes Dazai clean before tossing that, too. "It didn't hurt then."
Dazai's mouth twists into a regretful frown.
"I know that." He says. "I just thought… maybe I was doing something wrong, for it to hurt like that."
His voice grows tight as he finishes that sentence, and Chuuya's heart drops into a bottomless pit.
"You didn't do anything wrong." Chuuya reassures him. His hands are clammy, he feels wound up and not in a good way. Anxiety prickles at his skin, pinching like pins and needles. "Dazai, I promise. You didn't do anything wrong."
Dazai looks so despondent, it's not right. So Chuuya has to push. He has to ask.
"Did someone hurt you, Dazai?"
Whatever vulnerability or openness there was on Dazai's face or in his eyes, it's gone now. It snaps away in an instant, his expression hardening.
"I don't want to talk about it." He says firmly. "So drop it, Chuuya."
He must see the way hurt passes over Chuuya's face, because he loses some of the tension in his body and just sighs.
"Drop it, okay?" His voice is softer now. It doesn't sound mean, or pointed, or afraid. Just… tired. It sounds tired. Chuuya's eyes sting.
"Okay." He chokes out. "You can talk to me, though. If you need to."
Dazai smiles at him, and it's wobbly. It screams hurt, and disbelief, and something else that Chuuya can't name.
"Maybe later." He says. Somehow, Chuuya knows that that means never. He falls a little bit deeper into despair. It doesn't matter, because all those thoughts go out the window when Dazai says, "Thank you for holding my hand."
Chuuya's breath leaves him in a whoosh of air. He hadn't expected Dazai to mention that at all. He's still wearing that same wobbly smile, not meeting Chuuya's eyes, like he's embarrassed.
"Of course." Chuuya hurries to say. "No need to thank me."
Dazai huffs a soft laugh and closes his eyes, lifting an arm to drape it across his face.
"It was good, right?" He asks. Chuuya blinks, confused. "...for you, too?"
Oh. Oh.
"I came, didn't I?" Chuuya doesn't know how else to say it. Of course it was good. Mind-blowing, even. Dazai shrugs.
"It's possible to do that without enjoying it." He says. Any sort of hope that Chuuya had been holding onto shatters. This is…. This is really, really bad. This means a lot. He doesn't think Dazai understands just how many terrible things he's implying.
"It was good, Dazai." Chuuya ends up saying, his throat tight. "Really good. You did amazing."
Dazai chuckles hoarsely at that, his arm still slung over his face.
"Alright, alright." He murmurs. "I believe you. No need to oversell it."
He's not. Chuuya isn't overselling it. It was probably the best sex he's ever had. Before he can do something stupid like say so, Dazai moves his arm, staring at him with stupidly soft brown eyes and that same gentle smile as before. He gets this look, sometimes, and Chuuya can't explain it. It makes him feel seen. It makes him feel whole.
"Can you grab my clothes?" Dazai asks, and Chuuya blinks, startled.
"Yeah, of course." He says, and gets to his feet, picking up the clothes Dazai had worn on his way here, nothing special, just some soft pants and a loose t-shirt. And his underwear, too, of course.
Dazai tugs them all on with shaky, tired limbs, and when he's done he goes boneless on Chuuya's bed. Chuuya slips into some soft clothes, too, and crowds onto the bed beside him. They're both sweaty still, and the air still smells like sex. Chuuya huffs and sits up to open the window.
"Times like these make you wish you had a shower in your dorm, huh?" Dazai asks, sounding smug.
"Oh, shut up." Chuuya mutters. There's no heat in it. "We can't all be rich kids like you."
Dazai just hums, and Chuuya takes comfort in it. It's low in his throat, some random tune he seems to have just thrown together. Chuuya allows himself to press closer, and Dazai's arm wraps hesitantly around his shoulders.
"So…" He says. "The rules. What are we doing about those?"
Oh. Right.
"I said what I said." Chuuya huffs. "Fuck the rules."
Dazai is silent for a moment.
"And that means…?" He asks, prompting Chuuya to finish.
"I don't see why we can't just have sex." Chuuya answers. "A casual thing, like you said. I tutor you, and we have sex on the side."
Dazai goes quiet again, like he's thinking.
"Yeah," He agrees softly. "That sounds good."
In that moment, Chuuya feels like he's missed something incredibly important. But it doesn't matter, because Dazai's fingers are scratching lightly between his shoulder blades, and Chuuya can forget about hospitals in Paris, managing tuition, and just breathe. He feels at home here.
Dazai lies. He lies and Chuuya knows this, and it still hurts that the way he'd found out was by accident. Dazai had left him after he'd dozed off, had lingered, and had whispered something in his ear that Chuuya is sure Dazai had thought he wouldn't hear.
"You were beautiful. I wish I could have seen you with both eyes."
It had taken a good moment to register, because what the fuck. Dazai was already out the door before Chuuya could gain enough consciousness to move, let alone say anything.
When he finally gets his wits about him, Dazai is long gone. He thinks about it. He thinks about Dazai's startled movements when Chuuya shows up on his right side, about how he'd poked Chuuya in the eye and looked devastated, how clumsy he is, how he lets it slip sometimes.
It's clear as day that Dazai's vision is not as perfect as he claims it is. Why he's lying, Chuuya doesn't know. What he does know is that it hurts, it stings, and he's mad about it. So mad that he storms over to Dazai's dorm the next day to yell at him about it, only to be met with a very peculiar scene.
A man stands outside Dazai's door. He has dark, chin-length hair that is practically dripping with gel, and he's wearing a black coat. One that's almost identical to Dazai's. And he's just waiting there, not knocking.
"Is he not home?" Chuuya asks, and the man turns to look at him. Yeesh. Those eyes make Chuuya shiver. They look him up and down, and then the man smiles. "A shame. I wanted to yell at him about something."
The man smiles wider. It's almost creepy, but not quite. Just… unnerving.
"Osamu tends to evoke that reaction." The man says good-naturedly. Osamu, huh? How friendly are they that this man is on a first name basis with Dazai?
"Who are you?" Chuuya can't help himself from asking. "What are you doing here?"
"Me?" The man asks, tilting his head innocently. "I'm just here for a visit. My name is–"
"Mori-sensei." A cold, vacant voice pipes up from right behind Chuuya. "What are you doing here."
It's not a question. It's Dazai. And it's then that Chuuya realizes where he's heard that name before. Mori Ougai, the man who had helped Dazai in his time of need. But it's confusing, because Dazai is acting anything but grateful. His posture is stiff and he steps in front of Chuuya like a buffer.
"Osamu," The man, Mori, croons. "How lovely to see you again. It's been so long, hasn't it? Can't I come in for a chat?"
"You can stay right out here." Dazai grits out. Chuuya doesn't have to look hard to see how he's practically bristling. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, pulling at his dark coat. Mori notices, too.
"I see you're still wearing my coat." He says, smiling. "It looks good on you."
Chuuya knows he doesn't imagine the way Dazai freezes up, going stock-still in front of him.
"Thank you." It comes out small and pitiful, and Dazai is trembling, but he's still standing in front of Chuuya like a shield, and Chuuya doesn't know why.
"Good boy." Mori says, and lifts a hand to pat Dazai on the head. "Now, then. Who is your friend? Introduce us."
"He's not–"
"I'm Nakahara Chuuya," Chuuya interrupts. "I'm his tutor. Thank you Mori-sensei, for everything you've done for Dazai."
Dazai flinches like he's been slapped. Chuuya watches him in confusion. Mori looks at him carefully, assessing him, and then smiles.
"Tutor, huh?" He asks, and then grins at Dazai, all sharp teeth. It makes Chuuya shiver. "Back to your old ways, aren't you, Osamu?"
"You don't know what you're talking about." Dazai chokes out. Chuuya's confusion grows more and more with every passing second. "You don't know anything."
"I know everything." Mori says, still grinning. Then he turns to Chuuya. "You should stop by my office sometime, Chuuya. We can have a cup of tea, and catch up on everything we've missed together. How about that?"
Chuuya is about to agree, because why not, but then Dazai is gripping his wrist tightly, nearly bruising him, and answering for him.
"Chuuya is busy." He grits out. "He doesn't have time for things like that."
Mori's grin widens.
"Is that so?" He asks. "What a shame. I'd hate for you to keep him all to yourself. You can be so greedy like that, can't you, Osamu?"
"He's busy." Dazai says again, not letting go of Chuuya's wrist.
"And you?" Mori questions. He steps closer and cups Dazai's jaw. Chuuya's stomach churns with some kind of emotion he can't name. "Are you too busy to catch up with me, Osamu?"
"Yes." Dazai says, weakly. "I have things to do now. I'm not– I'm not a kid anymore."
Mori clicks his tongue.
"That is a shame, isn't it?" He lets go of Dazai's face, his hand falling back to his side. "Well, in that case, I'll be on my way. Do stop by if you need anything, Chuuya."
Chuuya can't find it in himself to answer. Mori walks away, down the stairwell, and in an instant, Dazai is pulling Chuuya forward, unlocking his door, and dragging him inside. Dazai slams the door behind them and leans back against it, his eyes blown wide. He's still trembling.
"What was that?" Chuuya asks, bewildered.
Dazai doesn't answer him. He reaches up to scratch at his neck, under the bandages, and bites down on his lip so hard that it bleeds.
"Stop that." Chuuya scolds him. "Hey, Dazai, what's going on?"
He reaches out to rest a hand on Dazai's shoulder, and Dazai slaps it away. It's a harsh slap, too. Chuuya would be pissed if it weren't for the fact that Dazai looks like he's falling apart right now.
"Don't touch me." Dazai heaves. "Don't touch me. Don't touch me."
Chuuya puts both of his hands up in the air where Dazai can see them.
"Okay." He murmurs, eyes tracing over Dazai's pitiful frame and taking everything in. "Okay, I won't touch you. I'm not touching you, see?"
Dazai puts his face in his hands and shudders.
"Don't touch me." He whispers. "Don't touch me."
"What can I do?" Chuuya asks. Dazai slides down to the floor. "Can I help? What do you need?"
"Water." Dazai croaks, so Chuuya fumbles his way to the small kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a water bottle. He hands it to Dazai, careful that their skin doesn't meet, and Dazai chugs it like he's been dying of thirst. "Make it stop." He says, when he's done.
"Make what stop?" Chuuya asks, crouching beside him. Dazai just shakes his head, refusing to say anything else. "I can't help you if I don't know what you need."
"Promise me." Dazai's voice is hoarse when he speaks. "Promise me you won't take him up on his offer. Promise me you won't go to his office."
Chuuya blinks at him, confused.
"Why not?" He asks.
"Just promise." Dazai pleads. And Chuuya is so thrown off by all of this that all he can do is agree.
"Yeah, okay." He says. "I promise, Dazai. Are you gonna tell me what's wrong now?"
Dazai shakes his head. He buries his face in his arms.
"Were you ever gonna tell me?" Chuuya asks, moving on. Dazai stiffens. "Or were you just gonna let me think you really have twenty-twenty vision?"
Dazai lets out a laugh that sounds too wet to be happy.
"You heard that?" He asks, sounding miserable. "Who am I kidding? Of course you did. Silly Chuuya with his big ears."
Chuuya bristles, but the way Dazai says it keeps him from snapping.
"You could have just told me." He says. "I wouldn't have judged you for it."
"That's what they all say." Dazai deadpans, finally looking up from his arms. His eyes are red, but he's not crying. "Then they find out how it happened."
Chuuya shuffles closer on his knees, as much as he dares.
"I won't judge you." He promises. "Ever. So you can tell me. Why did you let me think you poked me in the eye on purpose? Couldn't you have just told me then?"
"I don't know." Dazai tells him. "I don't know, Chuuya. I don't know."
"Okay." Chuuya settles. He doesn't know what to do. "Are you gonna be okay? Do you need me to call someone?"
Dazai shakes his head.
"Just stay with me." He whispers. "Please."
His eyes close as he says it, like he's ashamed. Guilt slams itself like a knife into Chuuya's stomach and twists. He'd come here to yell at Dazai for something he's insecure about. He'd like to think he's learning, that he's changing, but he always falls back on the same destructive habits.
"You're going to be okay." Chuuya says, doing his best to offer comfort.
Dazai laughs at that.
"No I'm not," He gasps. "Chuuya, you can't know that. I'm always going to be this fucked up. There's no recovering from this."
"From what, exactly?" Chuuya dares to ask.
"What else?" Dazai wheezes between bouts of laughter. "This. Everything that I am, Chuuya, there's no fixing it, don't you get it?"
"No, I don't." Chuuya says flatly. "So explain it to me."
"You've got to know," Dazai says, finally calming down. He gives Chuuya a wide grin that is anything but mirthful. All Chuuya can see there is pain and suffering. "I'm really quite a horrible person, Chuuya."
"You're not." Chuuya protests, quietly.
"No?" Dazai rests his head on his knees where they're drawn up to his chest. "How can you possibly know that? You don't even know me."
Chuuya works his throat around words he wants to say, but struggles to actually get them out.
"I'd like to," He manages. "I'd like to know you. So let me."
"No." Dazai says, weakly, petulantly. "I don't want to. You'll hate me. And I… I don't want Chuuya to hate me."
Chuuya's heart stutters in his chest.
"I'm not leaving anytime soon," He reminds Dazai. "So if that's the case, you'd better get comfortable with me by your side."
He thinks he sees Dazai's lips quirk up into a weak smile.
"I'm a horrible person." He says again, like he's telling someone else's secret. "Do you wanna know why?"
Well, there it is.
"Why, Dazai?"
Dazai watches him carefully, that small smile still on his face. His next words throw Chuuya hurtling off of whatever careful cliff he's on, sending him straight to the deep end.
"Hey Chuuya," He says. "I must have been a really horrible kid, right? Why else would my parents kill themselves without taking me with them?"