Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Relationship:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2019-08-19
Words:
1,117
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
22
Kudos:
493
Bookmarks:
55
Hits:
4,495

You’ll feel it when you’re ready

Summary:

It only took two weeks after the Shibusawa incident for Chuuya to let Dazai waltz right back into his life like he’d never left.

Notes:

Chuuya just gives and gives in all my fics I need to fix this.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

 

It only took two weeks after the Shibusawa incident for Chuuya to let Dazai waltz right back into his life like he’d never left. The mafia executive’s bedsheets once again littered with chocolate strands of hair, rolls of bandages had appeared in almost every cupboard, his closet now half full of striped oxford shirts and the smell of the sea, which Dazai seemed to carry with him always.

 

It was two months after the incident when Chuuya let himself fall in love with Dazai again. And six months after that, Chuuya developed Hanahaki disease, fucking again.

 

 

Loving Dazai was like loving being in pain.

 

“Fuck.” Chuuya cursed, cheek pressed against the porcelain of his bathroom toilet seat, throat itching and raw from the petals and stems he couldn’t stop coughing up. It was early, barely seven o’clock on a Saturday and for once, he had awoken before Dazai.

 

How lovely,  Chuuya had thought, how rare and wonderful to see the other man sleep so soundly. How nice would it be to make breakfast for his lover, to bring it back to the bedroom and spoil him...

How had he let this happen again?

 

It had seemed so obvious and easy to avoid... but nothing was ever the way it seemed with Dazai. The man could make the whole universe bend around his silhouette.

 

 And yet.

 

He was so different now, so much more of a man than he had been, despite the lingering emptiness which terrified them both. Dazai was softer, more present, less cruel.

 

 

“Fucking camellias again.” Chuuya groaned, hunching over the bowl as another wild ache scraped up his trachea until he was coughing and retching, spilling his idiocy into the toilet water. He was so caught up in it he didn’t notice the footsteps nearing behind him until a hand ghosted over the small of his back, as Dazai settled himself on the floor beside him.

 

“I’m sorry, Chuuya.” The taller man spoke softly, scraping his fingers against the sweat at Chuuya’s nape, gathering his hair and tying it back for him, and Chuuya couldn’t suppress a small breath of surprise as he turned himself towards Dazai. 

 

There was a subtle shift in the dark haired man’s face that was difficult to read but which Chuuya thought might have been a frown on a normal person.

 

“Did Chibi think I would just leave him here alone, then?” Dazai’s voice was flat, but soft. He was trying to be comforting, Chuuya realized, and suddenly the mafia executive couldn’t have spoken if he wanted to. 

Silence spoke for him anyway.

 

 

“Chuuya, I...” Dazai faltered. This was territory they hadn’t trod before. ”I’m trying not to hurt you, anymore.”

  

And there was the pain in his chest Chuuya had been waiting for.

 

“I know.” He leaned over the toilet once more, choking and wheezing as two whole, achingly beautiful red camellias fell into the water beneath his heaving breaths.

 

“I’m sorry.” Dazai murmured again. “I thought I was better... I... shouldn’t have come back to you.” The taller man let his hands trail gently up and down Chuuya's spine. He sighed, leaning into the touch a moment more before rising to wash his face in the sink. The cool water settled his nerves.

 

“Dazai, it’s fine. I won’t die from this....you do fucking feel something for me this time, don’t you?” He glanced sideways at the bandaged man from beneath the faucet.

 

Dazai was still sitting on the tile floor, looking lost in a pair of sleep sweats and no shirt.

 

 

Chuuya sighed. “You can’t die of Hanahaki disease unless the other person hates or feels indifferent to you. Plus, my symptoms are way softer than last time... I’m hardly coughing up any thorns.” The redhead continued, toweling off his face and neck.

 

Dazai waited until just after Chuuya took in a cup of mouthwash to speak. “Chuuya deserves to love someone who isn’t disqualified as a human being.”

 

He spoke in that low voice again, staring down at his own fingers, scratching at the grout between the tiles.

 

 

Chuuya finished rinsing his mouth out, because Dazai could fucking wait, before walking across the room and lowering himself to the floor again. He settled a hand beneath the man’s face, tilting it upward.

 

“Hey, shitty Dazai...we’ll work on this... you’ll get better.” Chuuya let his thumb pet across the ex-mafia’s jawline, admiring the long lashes that fluttered over his eyes at the touch. 

 

“And what if I don’t?” Dazai breathed, a familiar darkness glimmering in the taller man’s eyes before he sighed and buried his shame into Chuuya’s shoulder.

 

Chuuya stroked Dazai's hair and along his back, slipping, as he so often did with Dazai, from cared-for to caregiver.  “Hush, relax, you did good.” 

 

“I did?” Always Dazai’s honesty fell from him so softly.

 

“Yes, you social misfit, you did. Came in here and held my hair back and everything.” Chuuya replied.

 

Becoming the ex-mafia’s caregiver wasn’t a role Chuuya resented, somehow. Dazai was broken as all-hell, and he would always need more care than he could give, and that was most likely why they were even in this mess. 

  

“What if I am what Mori always said?” Dazai’s voice was toneless, but Chuuya could taste fear on a man a hundred miles away.

 

 

Demon.

 

 

A prodigy without a soul.

 

 

Those words would probably haunt Dazai and through him, Chuuya, for the rest of his life.

 

 

“Then, I guess we’ll have to find some kind of centerpiece to display all these fucking flowers.” Chuuya laughed softly, running his fingers through Dazai’s hair, catching at knots and pulling them before he continued. “I mean, if this shit’s gunna go on forever I’m not wasting them all down the fucking drain.”

 

Chuuya could hear Dazai’s mouth fall open in a gasp.

 

 

“Chuuya...” Dazai pulled back from his embrace, staring at him like he’d just grown a second head.

 

“Oi, close your mouth, Mackerel, you look like an ugly fish.” The redhead tucked a bit of hair behind Dazai's ear. He looked so terribly lovely and sad. 

 

“Oh, how can Chibi be so kind and then so cruel~?” Dazai whined, sliding his arms around Chuuya’s middle, pulling the smaller man into his lap.

 

“It’s part of my charm, shitty Dazai, you’ll learn to love it.” Chuuya hovered over Dazai’s face, kissing at the wetness beginning to gather in the corner of his eyes.

 

“I do hope that I will, Chuuya...” Dazai whispered into the space between their lips, leaning in.

 

“You will.” Chuuya answered, brushing his nose against Dazai’s.

 

 

“Mm.” The ex-demon prodigy hummed as their lips met softly. Slowly, like always.

 

 

To Chuuya, it tasted like love. 

    

  

Notes:

Thank you for reading this weird drabble I’ve had in my drafts for a Fucking year.

If you liked this or have a thought, please leave a comment if you can to let me know how I'm doing, I would adore and appreciate it so much!

Come find me on tumblr Here