#chuudazai

[moutones]

thinking about post-corruption soukoku again… one day i’m gonna write that fic

[futilescript]

I'm sorry

Some soukoku angst (mixed in with minimal fluff) for @daughterofsinsloth Thank you for requesting! I'm not very good at fluff, I apologize.

Warning: Angst and heavy emotions

Pairing: Dazai & Chuuya (Soukoku)

Summary: Chuuya struggles to come to terms with Dazai's actions while battling

   Anger washes over Chuuya's small frame in waves, feeling as though the heat from the flames licking fiercely at his body would burn him up. It starts at his neck, an unforgiving red reaching his cheeks in no time then mists itself to the very tips of his toes. Fists and jaw clenched as the fog before him clears. The Port Mafia executive pivots his body to face his former partner. Gloved hands grip furiously at the lapels of the brunette's trenchcoat, pulling him closer to his own body. "Are you listening to me?! I can’t believe you’re so stupid! How could you do something like that! Why would you-“

Dazai blinks, dumbfounded. Of course he does not realize what he has done wrong. Yet he relaxes into the grip his lover has on him, even relaxing into it; body having no choice but to flail with the movements. Chuuya's breath catches in his throat a lump forming which adds to his vexation.

"Chuuya, I made a choice." While the auburn haired man know this in his heart of hearts he realizes that it does not matter. Throwing one's own life on the line for any reason, Chuuya despises it. He did not need to absorb the damage, he should not have had to. Inwardly the anger is dissipating as Chuuya comes to the conclusion that he is the one to blame. That maybe his aggression is wildly misplaced.

Fire still wildly prods at Chuuya's veins burning his body up from the inside out though. Then as if upon instinct his hand reaches up to slap Dazai across the face. Nothing has ever been so loud. The latter does not make a single effort to stop him or rather catch his wrist to prevent him from even causing any harm. The inaction on his beloved's behalf proves to add additional fuel to his fire.

"You are reckless." Chuuya bites out through gritted teeth and what seems like will manifest into lockjaw from the mere pressure of the clench of his teeth at the moment. "Absolutely fucking reckless."

"Are you done?" No longer is the playful lilt present in Dazai's voice as his mouth moves at a leisurely pace. Seemingly burdened by the conversation. Chuuya finds that his heart is in his stomach faster than lightning strikes the night sky.

"You know what?" Nakahara spits with an obvious tone of annoyance, dropping his hands from the offending cloth he had previously been fisting, "Yeah."

It takes everything in his being to hold back the two words that sum up his thoughts, fuck you.

With that, the two former partners go their seperate ways.

   Maybe he's being unreasonable. Chuuya ponders this all with his first drink of the night. Something light, a little red wine. With every tip of his head his brain supplies reasons on top of reasons to both be and not be upset.

This is stupid. He groans into his second glass of wine. Realistically speaking Chuuya knows and understands that Dazai cannot die. But it doesn't and will never stop him from reprimanding his beau's methods of "beautiful suicide" or outright selflessness. It's selfish, he knows. It's impossibly irrational to be upset at Dazai for something he cannot control. Something that wouldn't effect him in the long run. This being so the part of his brain that is constantly screaming at him never seems to die down.

What if one day it does not work? He's no longer immortal? ..Dazai dies.

Chuuya cannot fathom the thought.

Simmering in his raw emotions post-battle is never an ideal situation. Especially with alcohol. To say his tolerance for spirits is low is laughable. Chuuya does not have a tolerance if anything the alcohol tolerates him and his whining. A few shots of vodka in evolves the mafia member into a slurring mess. Consonants, syllables, and the messy grip on reality meshing together as another one of his fever dreams. Akutagawa watches with a grimace on his face, that of vague discomfort, while keeping an eye for broken glass around the table. Last time he had to press against a pressure point of his boss's to force him to submit.

Assumptions aside, it is rather obvious from the outside looking in to see what has happened to Chuuya. Seldom does the smaller boy ever turn into such a wreck. The additional blubbering of a familiar ADA detective's name is proof enough on its own. Chuuya's breath is ragged as he chugs down a glass of whiskey. It burns his throat. Alas it is nothing compared to the damage his heart took seeing Dazai injured on that field filled with still bodies. Back to the moment when he thought Dazai was going to join in and just be another body. His heartbeat stutters in his chest as he goes to rest his cheek on the wooden table. It's cold and wet but he doesn't mind. It reminds him of Dazai and his silly obsession with drowning himself. It's warm and salty. He's not entirely sure when tears started running down his face but within seconds everything cuts to black.

   Chuuya wakes to the sound of running water being louder than he remembered previous to saying goodbye to the world for a while. The throbbing of his head coupled with the grating sound of water running has his body curling up. His arms cover his ears out of the fear of going deaf. The air in his chest is dead while there is a shuffling of feet behind him. Turning around he is greeted by a somnolent looking Ryuunosuke.

"What are you doing here?" Chuuya asks through a throat dry beyond comprehension. A glass of water is handed to him while he sits up in his bed. Obediently, he sips at it.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safely." His associate replies matter-a-factly while Rashomon peaks out behind his slender frame to shut off the sink water. "How are you feeling?"

"Like garbage." Chuuya laughs wryly through the brutally honest answer.

"Right then, I'll get going." Shuffling towards the door only to shout through it when closed. "Dazai wanted to talk." Chuuya spits out his water upon hearing the muffled words. As if on cue Dazai steps out of the shadows of his kitchen.

    He's got to be kidding.

    “I’m worried about you…” Dazai begins only to be cut off by a hungover Chuuya that absolutely does not want to be having this conversation right now.

"I can take care of myself!” Given the situation that Akutagawa was kind enough to fill him in on, Dazai knows better. Just a few hours apart and Chuuya is freefalling back into his messy habits of coping. Dazai even goes as far as to look at Chuuya pointedly, earning a mixture of an accusatory and exasperated gasp followed by a rather deep sigh.

“I just came to see how you were doing.” This earns a squint from the man sitting up shakily on his bed, a petulant pout forming on his lips. Dazai laughs nervously, trying to make light of the situation as he always does.

“And now it’s time for you to leave.” Chuuya deadpans aiming the glass of water at his lover out of pure spite. But of course Dazai expects it and dodges in time. It shatters against the wall leading into the kitchen much like how his heart shattered when Dazai decided to be an absolute halfwit.

"Chuuya." The soft tone plucks at his heartstrings, the years of companionship flooding his brain, tears form silently. His lower lip trembles as Dazai approaches him with hesitantly open arms. Chuuya rises to his knees to meet him halfway, falling into the chest that he is always sleeping on. "I'm sorry, Chuuya." The words are whispered just above his ear. Bandaged fingers rub at his neck in the form of a sorry that Chuuya will remember later. "I'm sorry."

Chuuya's shaky arms around Dazai's neck make his heart clench impossibly tight. As much as he teases his darling he does not enjoy upsetting him so. Chuuya hugs him suffocatingly close as if he were going to leave him at any second. Desperately clinging on while sobbing into Dazai's shoulder.

"Don't do it again, please." Staccato breaths patter across Dazai's collarbone. Dazai hums in agreement while pressing apologetic kisses into his hair.

“I love you.” A smile tugs at the bandaged man's mouth, to the naked eye it would be hard to find. Everything Dazai does is calm, calculated. Deliberately slow with meaning behind every action even if it's hidden. To say that attempting to read into his thoughts or actions is difficult is an understatement.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Jokingly the auburn haired mafiaoso responds through sniffles. Chuuya on the other hand is easier to read. Almost as if he were made of glass. His expressions are earnest, even when he does try to muddle them into something else entirely try to dissuade his company. Pink tongue sharp but the conviction behind such pretty words are always clear. The tone is cold, unforgiving with a bite of adoration. One that Dazai recognizes all too quickly.

After a few moments, Chuuya pulls Dazai down onto the bed with him. Though it's an awkward position Dazai understands the sentiment.

"I love you too."

[sinkingwmyships]

Soukoku, anyone? :3

Prompt list | Wattpad | AO3

          * * *

Prompt: “Is this the end? After everything we've been through?”

Character(s): Dazai Osamu; Nakahara Chuuya

Pairing(s): Soukoku

Word count: 305

          * * *

"Is this the end? After everything we've been through?"

Dazai heeds the footsteps before he does the voice. Quick, light and abrupt, they never allow him time to think or to hesitate. Or maybe it's Dazai himself.

"What do you mean?” He doesn't turn, instead choosing to speak into the darkness. Dazai could almost hear the other man wince at the nonchalance in his voice. That one, he wears his heart on his sleeve.

“You know what I mean.” Chuuya's reply is quiet.

Dazai can't help — even as he hears the frustration, feels the yearning in the other man's voice — but taunt. “What, no insult? No "waste-of-bandages"? Not even a "shitty Dazai"?”

He doesn't flinch when the other man grips his shoulder and spins him around, hard. Chuuya's eyes are burning as they glare into his own, in search of something, anything, to hold onto in those bottomless depths. Dazai doesn't let him find anything.

“Why?” the redhead chokes out at last. Looking at his expression, so uncharacteristically conflicted and weak, Dazai suddenly feels the urge to laugh. Is that all you can muster? You'd said it yourself: "After everything we've been through." And yet, this is all you will say to me?

Chuuya's skin is hot against his lips as Dazai presses a kiss to his cheek, just below the eye. The redhead's scent floods his nose: shampoo, detergent, bed — and for a second Dazai wants to stop, to pull Chuuya close and to tell him what he knows he longs to hear. But he does not, and all too soon they are apart again, the one staring and the other turning to leave. As the night wind chills him to the bone, Dazai thought for a second he would laugh again.

Then this is all I will say to you.