epiphany is the word for the word drabble 🥰
Blood stained his parted lips and trickled down his chin, dripping into the sink.
His bare hands gripped the porcelain so tightly it cracked, his self-control undeniable—or perhaps it was the loss of the god within him—and his auburn hair fell in a cascade over his face. Yet even so, Dazai caught a flash of desperation in his crimson eyes.
It was neither before, nor after, nor now. Dazai dragged his broken leg and leaned with difficulty against the doorframe. He made no effort to be subtle, nor did he intend to be, but Chuuya—who wasn’t exactly Chuuya but could be nothing else to him—didn’t seem to notice his presence.
Can something be called an epiphany if it was already etched into your bones?
It didn’t happen at that moment, when he reached out as if he could grasp his partner from there, nor afterward, when they shared a room—Dazai against the headboard, Chuuya by the window, one leg dangling into the void, a cigarette between his lips.
It simply happened. The revelation.
It gripped his chest, an awkward flutter that shook every foundation that had kept him whole for twenty-three years, and it clenched tighter and tighter until he couldn’t breathe.
Until all he saw was fire and stars. Chuuya. Only Chuuya.
The vampire shivered as Dazai leaned into him, resting his chin on his shoulder. He was cold, and it felt strange—but he would get used to it.
He wrapped his arms around Chuuya’s waist clumsily, holding him close.
“Dazai,” Chuuya warned in a gasp.
Chuuya huffed, and when their eyes met in the mirror, Dazai smiled.
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