Chapter Text
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Dazai’s body feels like it’s free-falling, plummeting down to the ground at an unsurvivable speed from a ten-story building. His skin crawls while his heart thudds hard against his rib cage.
The news he received today is enough to put him on edge, and the smell in this stifling bar might just be what tips him over it.
His nostrils flair as another whiff of smoke fills his lungs from the couple that’s been lighting up cigarettes like it's the oxygen they breathe.
“Dazai,” comes the elegant female voice, popping the bubble that separated him from the rest of the world.
He blinks, looking up to see Yosano standing in front of him, making a whiskey on the rocks, and giving him a pointed look. “Your drink has been empty for ten minutes and you're staring at the glass like some outer-worldly force might refill it.”
He grins, despite the gnawing sensation in his stomach. Akiko Yosano is Dazai’s favorite bartender. He met her three years back when he first started coming to this joint– back when he was at his lowest.
And let's say, besides him being her most valuable customer, he’s also the one occupying her bedroom most nights.
“Are you that force to come fill it for me, m’love?” The brunette coos, cradling his chin above his interlaced fingers. “Because you are far too divine to be from this shit-hole of a world.”
Yosano laughs, her eyes creasing beautifully at the gesture as she slides the whiskey across the table to him. Dazai had always thought Yosano was as pretty as they come. She’s too blunt, too real to be anything but. The way her raven hair never has a strand out of place, and the way her lips are covered in a delicious cherry red.
“That’s by far the worst pick-up line you, Osamu Dazai, have come up with.” She tilts her head, grabbing a towel to dry a few glasses, a fond smile naturally blooming on those cherry lips. “What’s got you all twisted up tonight?”
He gapes, mocking offense as he reaches forward to cradle his rich caramel whiskey between his hands. The cold glass soothing him only slightly. “What makes you think there’s something new? Haven’t I always been a little dark and twisted deep down?”
She smirks, and the warm glow of the bar lights her features up nicely, leaving her jaw sharp and her eyes sharper as she inspects the brunette in front of her. “That you are, but I know you well enough. No point in trying to hide it– so spill.”
He scans her with his calculating eyes, bringing the glass up to his lips, and feeling the burn slide down his tongue and into his throat; leaving a warm pit at his core in its wake. He sighs in defeat, willing himself to tell her. “My brother.”
Her eyes dull with recognition, “He’s back in town?” She asks grimly.
Dazai nods slowly, knowing he shouldn’t have such distaste for the man. But, there’s this feeling, a screaming, pounding feeling that he can’t quite put his finger on.
He and his brother, Hikaru, used to be close. They had to be, or how else would they survive their father’s discipline? No child should grow up in fear, but that’s all they ever knew– ever had.
Hikaru, although, had gotten himself out, being the older of the two. He was free from the clutches of their father and met and got engaged to a beautiful woman. All the while Dazai was left to fend for himself.
That was until Hikaru’s fiancee was brutally murdered. The police never found the criminal, and it drove him to madness and sent him right to the mental hospital.
Ah, that’s right. Today marks the three-year anniversary of her death.
They had never solved her case, no matter the work Dazai put into it at the agency, but something had left a bad taste in his mouth from it. How could they find no evidence? How could they not even have one suspect?
Easily the murder became a cold case. Young, angelic Asami was forgotten. But Dazai, no Dazai had never forgotten about her– she still haunts him in his dreams from time to time no matter how much he believes he moved on.
“He had been let out six months ago, just now finally deciding to remember his family.” Dazai hummed, tracing his index finger along the rim of the whiskey glass.
Yosano gave him a look. It wasn’t pity, no she would never give him that– he never wanted it. It was almost a grimace from the accumulation of long nights, rough sex, and empty bottles that resurfaced along with the topic. Something that she nor Dazai could forget.
A customer flags her down, and she leaves reluctantly with a ‘give me a second’ casting Dazai to be forced alone with his thoughts.
His brother called him today. Told him that he’s finally come to terms with the loss and is a changed man. ‘Changed man my ass,’ Dazai had thought.
But now he’s been sentenced to a family lunch tomorrow. His mother was so happy to learn all three of her children would be together again; a wish every mother longs for.
Not something Dazai is looking forward to, at all.
“Sorry about that, I’m back,” Yosano breathes out, sliding him a fresh glass of whiskey.
He nods in thanks and gives her a cutting grin, “I wouldn’t suppose you could be my ‘pick me up’ for the night, m’love?”
She grins right back, the shit-eating grin she always wears. “I’m sorry, no can do. You’ve taken me out of commission for the rest of this week– my girl can only handle so much at a time, though it was a tempting offer.”
He pouts, feigning hurt. “‘Kiko~ does a man need to get on his knees and beg?” She only shakes her head, so he sighs, “Three strikes and you're out, I see.”
She chuckles, planting her hand on her hip as she looks around, “I’m sure there are plenty of lucky souls out here tonight that would love the chance to slip in bed with you.”
Dazai hums, looking down as he picks at the edge of his bandages that lay tightly against his wrist. They had never bothered him– the constant rub against raw skin– but tonight he’s feeling a little out of it.
“I suppose I could give it a shot.”
“Such the trouper you are,” She teases before she leans against the bar table with a sly smirk and a gleam in her eye. Dazai can tell she’s plotting. “You might just be in luck then, babe.”
He tilts his head, before following her gaze to an innocent soul– not having a clue in the world that they just become prey in a tank full of sharks. Said person had just walked in through the front doors, a bell chiming as it swung closed behind him.
At that moment, it felt as if Dazai’s whole world had stopped spinning on its axis. His breath shallowed as he watched, by far, the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on saunter over to the bar and plop down with little grace onto a barstool three chairs away from him. The man looked as if his day was just as rough as Dazai’s.
And besides his slouched posture and his short stature, Dazai had noticed quite a few other things about this man.
For one, this man’s fiery crimson hair is tied back in a messily perfect ponytail. A few curly strains in the front pulled out on either side to frame his face. His jaw is sharp. Sharp enough that Dazai itches to reach forward and trace his finger along it to see if it would draw blood.
And there’s nothing at all dull about this man. His clothes are unique. He’s covered in a tight-fitted black pair of jeans that seem to hug his toned ass perfectly with little effort. His black shirt barely peaks out from his blood-red leather jacket making him look like some dark gothic prince.
Dazai smirks, just his type.
From the way the man's hair is pulled back, Dazai can easily see the silver studs in his ears that go along with the plethora of rings on his knuckles and chains around his neck. The brunette is dying to feel that cold metal against his scorching skin.
“You’re drooling~” Yosano hums, breaking Dazai from his trance.
His head whips over to look back at her. He can see she’s moved on to cleaning off the counter– as if to look occupied. “I don’t think I can go home alone tonight knowing that man just walked in here. I need him under me, need, Akiko.”
The girl chuckles and looks back at the mysterious boy. “Alright, then what will it be? What are you going to buy him?” She questions.
Dazai’s brows furrow as he looks back over at the redhead. The other man is swinging his legs, seemingly too deep in concentration over his phone, enough to not notice the two pairs of eyes that have been trained on him since he stepped foot in this bar.
Dazai hums, “He’s too classy for a whiskey,” The brunette muses, gaining a hum in agreement from the other. “He’d be the type to like a nice wine.” He concludes with a nod.
“Should I make him a nice white wine then?”
Dazai’s eyes slide down the frame of the man a few stools away from him, “No, make it red.” He adds before turning to look at the bartender.
Her eyebrows shoot up, “That’s a bold move there, babe.”
He hums, lifting his glass back up to his lips, “Trust me on that.”
She chuckles, turning around to grab a wine glass and a bottle of Merlot. “There’s never a moment I wouldn’t.”
Dazai spends the next ten minutes silently side-eyeing the man like he’s a blushing bride. It’s almost embarrassing how many times he’d looked over and not made eye contact once with the redhead.
Yosano had sauntered over to the man, wine glass in hand, and said whatever she needed to say. The ball is in the redhead’s court now, though. There is nothing else Dazai can do, and if the man so chooses to never advance in this little game the brunette started then Dazai’s going to have to spend his night alone. A pitiful reality.
Just when he had almost given up all hope, did he see the man move in his peripherals. Dazai had almost burst a blood vessel trying not to turn his head and look or jump for joy as the man made his way over.
“This seat taken?” Came the raspy voice from the man of Dazai’s dreams.
Calmly, Dazai turns to look at the redhead. Really, he looked calm– stoic even, but deep inside his heart was tudding hard against his ribs, begging to be free as he got a better look at the man.
Now that he’s so close, Dazai can see his whole face. Pale porcelain cheeks that are dusted with a faint set of freckles. And those eyes, by god those eyes Dazai could swim in them forever if only the redhead would let him. One is a deep butternut brown, while the other shines a brilliant sapphire blue, framed elegantly with thick ginger lashes. If there’s a god out there, he must have favorites. Such a pretty face for a man.
It’s almost as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of Dazai’s lungs.
The redhead’s lip quirks upward as his grip, ever so slightly, tightens around the half-drunken wine glass in his hand, “Thought I’d ask before I took it for myself.”
Dazai, by now, has collected himself just enough to remember how to articulate words. “The seats all yours.” He says, smooth as butter with a nod of his head. Nailed it.
The redhead smiles, taking his time to sit down and sip on his wine for a second— racking his eyes up and down Dazai’s figure as if taking in the view. “Wine.” He eventually says once he seems to be satisfied with eye-fucking the brunette, “How did you know it was my favorite?”
Dazai feels his lips lift in a smirk as he lazily cups his cheek with his hand, resting his elbow against the table for support. The air in the bar is stifling, almost enough to make Dazai want to run out to get some fresh air. “Someone as exotic and alluring as you wouldn’t be subjected to a drink as simple as whiskey or vodka.”
“And why red?”
Dazai chuckles, “The color of your jacket.”
The man blinks, an expression almost defined as surprise flickering across his face. It seems as if he didn’t expect such a simple answer from the brunette.
The next thing Dazai knows, the man is tilting his head back, laughing. It’s such a surreal and beautiful sight that Dazai can’t help but admire, a smile of his own creeping up on his lips.
“Red wine,” The boy proceeded, taking a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it up, “Grew up on that shit. It’s my dads’s favorite.”
Dazai hums, fingers twitching as he watches the redhead inhale a deep hit of nicotine. “A family full of class.”
The man closes those pretty eyes of his, exhaling the smoke through his nose, “Fuck, I really needed that,” His eyes open, holding the cigarette towards Dazai in a silent question.
Dazai shakes his head, “Those will kill you one day.”
The redhead grins, taking one more small hit before putting it out. “A problem for future me.”
The brunette nods, noting how easily the redhead guessed Dazai didn’t like the smoke and got rid of it.
He's surprised Chuuya didn't mention anything, because who goes into a smoking bar and doesn't like smoke?
A warm feeling pools in his stomach that has nothing to do with the whiskey this time.
He likes this one.
“Your name?”
“Nakahara, Chuuya.”
“Chuuya,” Dazai drawls out with a hum. He likes the way his name rolls off the tongue, like fermented honey. Now if only he could get a taste of the man who goes by this name. “Dazai, Osamu Dazai.”
Chuuya smirks, one dimple on each side of his cheeks forming at the gesture. Cute, Dazai thinks. “And what intentions did you have in buying my drink tonight, Dazai?”
The brunette bites his lips as if to hide his own smirk. He’s quite enjoying this little game they are playing. “Can’t a guy just want to buy another man a drink with no intentions?” His eyes narrow playfully, “I’m quite the gentleman, you know.”
Chuuya scoffs, “I’m no fool, I can smell the testosterone bleeding off you. You’re no fucking saint, you horny bastard.”
Dazai’s eyes widen a fraction as a laugh bubbles out of him. A feisty little thing he is. “Vulgar.” He muses as he watches Yosano nosily stride past them, “If you knew my intentions from the start, then you must want the same thing as me. Do you not?”
“Can’t a guy just want a decent conversation?” Chuuya challenges, raising a brow as those red-stained lips sip the wine from the rim of his glass.
“That would be touching, but I have my doubts.”
Those heterochromatic eyes search Dazai’s face as if looking for something the brunette isn’t aware of.
“Why me?” He then whispers. “There are plenty of people here tonight.”
The brunette hums, taking his time to look around at the crowd of lost souls before fixing his gaze on the redhead in front of him. “No one really catches the eye like you do. You, Nakahara Chuuya are so beautiful it’s almost tragic.” He grins at the way Chuuya’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush. “There must be something dark and painful that you're hiding behind that pretty little face of yours.”
Dazai watches with sharp calculating eyes as Chuuya throws back the rest of his wine in two big gulps, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and standing up, “Don’t we all?” He asks.
Dazai licks his lips, taking that as his cue to stand up with the redhead, “My place or yours?”
Chuuya’s face flickers to an unreadable expression before he smothers it with a lopsided smirk, “Yours.”
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It didn’t take them long to get tangled up in each other’s limbs, dark sheets clinging to their sweaty skin.
Chuuya tastes as good as he had imagined. The subtle hint of wine was enough to make even the brunette feel drunk off it. Kissing him made Dazai’s blood pressure spike and his head spin.
When they first arrived, Chuuya had set his ground rules. No markings and no exchanging info.
Dazai didn’t mind. This was to clear his head anyway, right? And it had left him with a whole list of things he could still do.
And as it turns out, his mind did get cleared of what he had wished, but now it was full of all the sinful ways he could make Chuuya scream out his name.
There were no sounds outside the panting breaths, moaning pleas, and rustling sheets.
It was beautiful, the way Chuuya so easily became pliant under Dazai’s gentle, praising caresses.
Their hands had left no inch of the body untouched, and their mouths had mapped out all the right spots to make the other's eyes roll back into their heads.
But Dazai is only a man, he wraps his lips around Chuuya’s clavicle— teeth scraping and tongue soothing the reddening skin. Chuuya moans at another deep thrust of the brunette's hips while hands knot their way through auburn silk hair; the hair tie long gone.
“You’re taking it so well, sweetheart.” Dazai praises, voice rough and dripping with lust as he snaps his hips back and forth at a ruthless speed knowing just which angle to hit that bundle of nerves that makes Chuuya scream.
Chuuya lays almost limp, flush against the mattress, taking the pleasure greedily. The only thing keeping him from drowning in it is his strong hands gripping and clawing at Dazai’s flesh.
“Fuck, fuck fuck-“ Chuuya chants, his ring of muscles tightening around Dazai’s cock, causing the brunette to shudder slightly in his rhythm. “Dazai, I’m gonna– I need to cum.”
The brunette hushes him, lips moving against lips as he uses one of his hands to reach down and wrap around the other’s cock, “I got you, let it all out, love.”
Just as quickly as Dazai fisted the man he had come undone under the brunette. His orgasm wracked through him hard as a string of incoherent words spilled from his lips. Grabbing Dazai by the shoulders and clumsily slamming their mouths together.
Teeth had knocked into each other sending a sharp pain down Dazai’s spine, but the subtle taste of iron had his breath increasing as he snapped his hips a few more times into the redhead before tipping over the edge himself.
It was a euphoric feeling that left his skin humming contently as he pulled out and plopped down on the mattress next to the redhead.
They both took a few minutes, laying in a comfortable silence as their chests settled down and their heartbeats slowed.
Dazai has had his run will plenty of people before, but this– this little redhead seemed to do a number on him.
Which isn’t a good thing.
It’s going to take him weeks, possibly even months to get over this night. He never wants it to end.
The brunette turns as he watches Chuuya sit up, reaching over to check his phone before setting it down silently.
Dazai’s eyes narrow, actually looking at the man's pale freckled back for the first time tonight. The lighting is dim, having the moon as the only source. He would have easily missed it, maybe never even seen it if Chuuya never sat up.
“Your back, why didn’t you tell me?” Dazai asks, slightly offended, as he reaches forward with gentle hands to touch the purple, swollen skin. “If I had known you were hurt, I would have been much gentler.”
Chuuya stiffens slightly as Dazai’s fingertips graze the damaged blood vessels that left a purplish red mark in its wake. The bruise looks tender, almost as if it were put there just today.
The redhead turns over his shoulder to look at the brunette, but never tells him to back off. “It's nothing really,” He mumbles. “Jus’ clumsy.”
Dazai frowns, tearing his eyes away from the other’s softball-sized bruise near his shoulder blade to scan his face, “I know plenty of clumsy people, these types of bruises don’t come from that.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes, shuffling to face the brunette completely, leaving his back hidden again. “I slipped and hit it on the corner or my coffee table jackass, no need to get all worried over nothing.”
Dazai wearily watches as Chuuya gives him a lopsided smile, “Trust me.”
Trust is a big word for a stranger the brunette had just met. He never trusts so easily. Especially not when your own blood could do such terrible things to you. It took Dazai a year to trust Yosano, and he was surprised she hadn’t left in that time. He was a terrible, fucked up man back then.
“You think I could trust you so easily?” Dazai asks, albeit amused.
Chuuya smirks, crawling over until he’s straddling the brunette with his thighs. A gesture that has Dazai’s stomach flipping. “Maybe not completely, but I’m sure you could trust me with a few other things.”
“Oh?” The brunette grins as Chuuya wraps his arms around Dazai’s neck, “Are you offering to fuck me, Chuuya Nakahara?”
The redhead’s eyes gleam with mischief as he leans forward and gives the brunette a deep, almost affectionate kiss, “I promise I’ll be gentle.”
Despite the nervous tug in his stomach, Dazai lets his lashes flutter shut as he returns the wet kiss, gripping white-knuckled at the other’s naked thighs. And damn it, Dazai gives in so easily because who wouldn’t? Chuuya gave off an intoxicating aura that Dazai couldn’t help but beg for more.
Once the sun began to rise, they were both sore and in need of a coffee, maybe two. They hadn’t got much sleep, both hoping the night would never end. But, stubbornly the sun ignored their wishes and still rose that morning.
There was bedding everywhere and clothes tossed about the room unceremoniously. An opened bottle of whiskey was left, forgotten on the kitchen counter.
No one-night stand had ever left this big of a mark on Dazai. But he was just a man; he would never beg the redhead for his number after that was one of the other’s ground rules– no info traded.
So as Dazai watches Chuuya dress, all of today’s errands and painful reunions seem to slam back into him in full force.
“I have to run a few errands,” Dazai breaks the silence, eyeing Chuuya as he struggles to get his leg in those tight jeans, “If you want, you could stay till I come back a little after two.”
Chuuya looks at the brunette, jumping to get the jeans over his ass. Those heterochromatic eyes have a sad look to them. It’s something Dazai can’t quite understand. “I–” He trails off, looking over at his phone that sits on the nightstand, “It’s probably best I don’t.”
Dazai chuckles, finally urging himself to get up as well. He needs to start getting ready for the day, “Having regrets already?”
“No,” Chuuya says quickly, so quick it gives Dazai a weird warm feeling in his chest. Chuuya’s finally fully dressed, making his way over to his phone to check it, and almost as if an afterthought he adds: “I had a great time.”
And despite himself, Dazai smirks, “So did I.” Would now be the best chance to ask for Chuuya’s number? The redhead could have changed his mind halfway through the night.
“Shit,” Comes the scruffy voice from the shorter man, pulling Dazai out of his thoughts. “I actually do need to go now.” He says, quickly gathering his wallet and jacket, a strain subtly clear in his voice.
The taller man nods, “Well, I– mmph.” Dazai all but gets dragged down into a deep, almost excruciatingly loving kiss. It’s as if the redhead is trying to embed the taste of Dazai into his mouth forever.
Dazai complies with just as much force, feeling his head get dizzy and his stomach grow hot in want.
Is that so bad to want this for more than one night, maybe even want it forever?
They stay like that for a few minutes, breaths mingling, tongues fighting, and hearts beating fast.
The brunette exhales a deep breath out of his nostrils, relaxing slightly in the other man's grip as their lips part with a wet pop, and then Chuuya quickly shoves him away. “Thank you,” he whispers before turning on his heels and quickly making a beeline for the front door.
Dazai can’t do anything but stand there like a statue and watch the redhead leave his life for good.
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“I’m here to visit Mori Ougai, I’m his son,” Dazai says, leaning against the front desk of the hospital as he looks into the receptionist's eyes. He can tell her smile is fake, a mask she puts on for all the patients and families coming in and out of the hospital.
If Dazai hadn’t been able to tell it was so fake, maybe he would have found it comforting like everyone else seems to do.
“Of course,” The girl says, typing away on her computer with that smile never wavering once, “Mori-san had just finished off another set of chemo-radiation treatments, so he is a little out of the loop today, but I’m sure he would still love the company!”
Dazai grins, gripping his grocery bag tighter as he watches her pull a visitor pass out from one of the desk drawers, “I’m sure he would.”
Once she hands it over he makes his way down the eerie hospital halls, something that he does far too often for someone far too undeserving.
The familiar smell of antiseptics and the blinking fluorescent lights will forever be integrated into his mind, even after he finally never has to come back to this place.
It doesn’t take him long to find Mori’s room. Especially having memorized the maze of halls to get there.
He peaks his head into the door, taking in the nurse as she switches one of his IV bags silently while Mori lies stiff and pale on the hospital stretcher. His black hair sticks out like a sore thumb against the casper white sheets; his skin is almost a blue translucence from lack of Vitamin D. He’s been at this hospital for two years now. Dazai’s sure everyone is waiting for the lung cancer to finally cause his demise.
He knows he sure is.
He taps a knuckle twice against the open door before proceeding farther into the room, “Thank you so much for watching over him ma’am, I know he can be a difficult patient.” He says with a smile, setting his grocery bag down that holds the key lime pie in it for today’s family lunch.
The nurse turns to look at him, now having finished what she needed to do, “Oh,” she giggles, “Don’t be ridiculous, Mori-san is such a wonderful patient. Always so willing to let us help.”
The brunette silently makes his way over to his father’s bedside, having to fight off the urge to pull off the wires that feed him oxygen. “You’re much appreciated, m’lady.”
The nurse flushes pink, bowing to Dazai with a ‘thanks’ and an ‘I’ll get out of your way now’ before turning on her heels and heading out the door.
As soon as she leaves, Dazai watches Mori’s eyes crack open the slightest bit. The two make eye contact instantly.
“I do hope you aren’t causing the nurses too much trouble,” Dazai says, looking down at the man with distaste.
If only Chuuya had agreed to stay, then maybe Dazai could have been convinced not to leave the comfort of his bed and the boy's arms.
But he would never be so lucky.
“I assume you haven’t heard the news, old man.” Dazai continues on, knowing Mori doesn’t have the energy to talk back. “No one in the family would be as kind to offer it up as much as I am.”
He really is a saint, he muses, thinking back to when Chuuya thought otherwise.
Mori only blinks at him.
“Your prodigal son has returned, you know,” Dazai says, grinning when the heart monitor spikes. “Headed to Mom's to see him today. Too bad, I doubt he will be visiting you.”
Mori groans, trying to lift his arm but being too weak to do so. Back then, those arms were much stronger and used for much worse things. Dazai had never been able to loom over this man with no fear.
That’s what cigarettes will do to you. Maybe the addiction was a blessing in disguise.
Dazai just sighs, looking down at the pitiful human being. There’s a heavy tiredness dragging him down from the lack of sleep from the night before. “Don’t tell me you miss him?” Dazai coos with mockery in his tone. “Too bad you’ll die before getting the chance to ever lay eyes on him again.”
With that, Dazai turns around. He can hear Mori trying to call him back over with a few moans and grunts, but Dazai quietly picks up his pie and heads to the door.
“I hope you burn in hell, Dad.”
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It almost feels cathartic, to walk up to his childhood home. The same bright red door greets him as he trudges up the couple of stairs that lead to his front porch.
He takes a deep breath before making quick work of swinging the door open, a big smile planted across his face.
“I’m home~” He sings, knowing his brother isn’t here yet. The man was always known for his tardiness, while Dazai liked to be punctual.
“Osamu?” A woman’s voice calls. His mother, Tane has the most beautiful voice he’s ever heard.
“Onii-san is here?!” Comes a loud screech before bare feet come pitter-pattering towards him at full speed.
Dazai braces himself before his little brother, Shuuji, comes crashing into his abdomen, wrapping his skinny little arms around the brunette’s waist.
Dazai loves his little brother, the only issue is the fact he has such a huge resemblance to the one man Dazai hates most. Their father, Mori.
His hair is the same raven color, but their mom likes to keep it buzzed short. His eyes are a pale-grey pink, that, when shining in the sun has a reddish hue to it. He is a handsome little devil, and Dazai’s sure all the ladies will love him once he’s old enough.
Shuuji had the great honor of being younger while their father was still in great health. Now he’s ten, so all too young to have any deeply engraved memories of their shitty abusive father. Dazai might even be a little envious of the young boy.
“Hey buddy,” Dazai says, ruffling the kid's hair, “I missed you too.”
The boy giggles, prying himself off his brother and giving him a big cheeky grin, “And look! I lost my two front teeth!”
“Woah! You’re getting so old,” Dazai says with a warm smile, “Did the tooth fairy bring you any money~”
Shuuji rolls his eyes, “I know she’s not real. Mom gave me 500 yen.”
Dazai gapes, “What?! The tooth fairy isn’t real??” He pouts as he watches the tall woman make her way over to him. “Mom~ I’ve been crushed! How has the tooth fairy not been real this whole time!?"
His brother giggles as his mom rolls her eyes. She’s wearing a tight navy blue aporn, spatula in hand with her long chocolate brown hair up in a bun to keep out of her way. She’s tall, only a few inches shorter than Dazai himself.
“Shuuji-kun stayed awake all night to catch her.” She says with a tsk, shaking her head with a fond smile. “He caught me redhanded.”
Dazai smirks, casing his eyes down at the boy who looks back up at him innocently. “You’re a sneaky one, aren’t you? Causing our mother trouble?”
His brother squeals as Dazai reaches down to playfully pinch his arm, “ No, I help Mama around the house all the time!”
Tane tsks, “If you're so helpful then you’ll go to the kitchen and set the table up for your old Mama.”
“I will!” He yells, running back into the kitchen and disappearing.
Dazai sighs, tilting his head as he walks forward to give his mom a quick hug, “You’re not old.”
She laughs, head falling back at the gesture. “Oh please, I’m starting to see all the gray hairs growing in!”
“And you still look as beautiful as ever.”
“Oh stop,” She says, smacking him lightly in the chest with a smile. “I see you’ve been keeping yourself healthy.”
“Mm, I try to keep in shape.” He grins, handing over the grocery bag to his mom, “Gotta look good for the ladies~”
“You’ll find one soon enough Osamu, don’t you worry.”
He smiles, but quickly changes the subject. “You ready to see Hikaru again?”
Her smile wavers for a second. It wouldn’t be enough for anyone to see, but Dazai always can. “Yes, he’s a changed man.”
The brunette rolls his eyes at the sound of a knock on the front door. Here they go. “A thousand yen and I bet you he will be back in the mental hospital in two months.”
She scowls, swatting at his arm as she scurries past him towards the door. “Manners, Osamu.”
The door then swings open. Hikaru standing in the doorway with a wide smile on his face, “Mama, brother! I’ve missed you both so much!”
Dazai stands there, hiding his face in a grinning mask as his mother hugs their brother.
Tane speaks, but it’s muffled to Dazai’s ears as he watches his brother take a few steps into the house. His hair is tied back in a long brunette bun. He’s the only child who got a mix of the two parents. Dazai looks more like his mother, thank god.
His brother is big. Has all the right muscles in all the right places, whereas Dazai was always the skinnier of the two. All that muscle could have come in handy way back when.
"I'd like you guys to meet my boyfriend," Hikaru says with a sheepish grin as he steps to the side, revealing said boyfriend.
And yet again Dazai’s world had stopped spinning on its axis, only this time it’s not as pleasant. It’s more like his world is going up in flames– crashing and burning with no grace at all.
Because… because–
“Chuuya Nakahara.” Comes Hikaru’s muffled words.
Fuck.