Archive of Our Own

Dazai’s first memories are of a harsh winter wind coiling itself around his body, sinking into his bones; it’s chilling, the shock of cold water on bare skin. It rips a hole through him, carves out a hollow where his heart should be, and settles there, an everlasting frost.

He remembers standing alone, watching as people pass him, smiling, laughing. He doesn’t understand how their faces contort into smiles and their eyes crinkle as they laugh; how could he, when all he’s known is the yawning void within him. He finds out later that this emptiness is his ability; the ability to nullify abilities, to take from others what makes them special, to make them useless.

He knows that even in a world where abilities are hardly unheard of, his is unnatural, a freak of nature. (It should never have existed. He should never have existed.)

It’s almost laughable—the one thing that distinguishes humans from monsters is the ability to feel, and Dazai has been denied of precisely that.

He decides that No Longer Human is an appropriate name for it.

Dazai covers his right eye with bandages—he has seen what the world has to offer him, and he decides that if it has turned its back on him, he will do so too. 

–

No Longer Human nestles in the jagged edges of his soul like a parasite, making its presence known day in, day out with its wordless screams. Dazai hates it. It’s a constant reminder that he’s not human, that he’ll never be. That no matter what he does, this is his preordained fate—he is to be forever alienated from humanity, hollowed out by divine hands and left to rot. 

It never stops screaming. It thrums under his skin, a quiet whisper, a promise made; rattles his ribcage, tries to claw its way out of him and escape its ivory cage. Dazai tries his best to shut it out, does anything to make it go away, pleads with it to please stop screeching and finally be quiet. Nothing works, and in a moment of desperation Dazai takes a knife and tries to carve this monster occupying him out of his body he wants it out now and he-

Dazai wakes up alone. He tries to sit up, arms weak beneath him. He looks to the side, sees the knife lying just out of reach. The blade glints, and even in the dim twilight he can see the blood on it, a deep rust red. His chest burns. He looks down. His chest is lacerated, torn apart in an act of mania and desperation. It hurts it hurts please make it sto-

It’s only later when he realises that that’s the first time No Longer Human is silent.

–

Dazai craves the silverquick moments where No Longer Human is finally quiet, the cool of a salve replacing its chilling bite, where he finally stops feeling cold (where for once, he can pretend he’s still human).

These fleeting, blissfully sweet moments of reprieve are never enough for him.

He takes the knife and carves questions into his skin (why him what did he do to deserve this), crimson trails adorning soft skin. The momentary cold of steel on skin is quickly overtaken by sheer euphoria, and he stares in a sort of sick fascination as he watches the blood well up, stark red against his pale skin.

It is warm and sweet and everything he has been looking for and Dazai thinks, this is what joy must feel like. 

This happiness never lasts. 

Scars litter his body, some pale and white-streaked, a lot more blushed red and angry. It disgusts him and turns his stomach and Dazai has never hated himself more—they’re merely another reminder (as though the one in his head wasn’t enough) that he’s an imposter, a monster among humans. He doesn’t belong, never will.

He covers his entire body in bandages. It’s easier to lie to himself that way. 

It’s not long before it’s not enough, he wants more, more; where he’s unable to escape No Longer Human’s wrath even while he tries his best to exorcise the demon within him. Nothing is enough to make it stay quiet, and each time it returns with more fury, a winter’s snowstorm howling through him, a blizzard ravaging his body.

Dazai wants it gone, wants this pathetic excuse of a life to end, and it's with this thought that he tries to hang himself from the rafters. It doesn’t work, nothing ever works, and each failure feels more like some sort of sick joke the universe is playing on him. His desperation mounts as he swallows pills and tries to jump from rooftops and even into the waters of Yokohama Bay.

He doesn’t succeed, and No Longer Human seems affronted by his increasing attempts to kill himself, screeching louder and more insistently each time he opens his eyes after yet another dismal failure, as though angry at him.

For what, Dazai doesn’t exactly know. 

–

When he’s fourteen, Dazai tries yet again to hang himself. The noose digs into his neck, and Dazai’s reflexes kick in as his vision starts to blur out and he starts gasping for air. He smiles. Maybe this time-

Dazai wakes up. A flood of disappointment washes over him, before he realises he’s in an unfamiliar room.

The bed under him is uncomfortably hard, the starched sheets rough against his skin. He looks at the paint on the ceiling, watches the fan spin, the blades a blur. No Longer Human wails, painfully high pitched, before it stops, so abrupt it leaves him reeling.

That’s a first.

Dazai props himself up on unsteady arms.

“You’re awake. That’s good. I nearly thought you did actually die.”

He looks in the direction of the voice. A man in a white coat (a doctor?) sits with his back facing him. He turns to look at Dazai. 

Dazai stares at him.

“Who are you?”

The man walks over. “A ‘thank you’ would suffice, you know.” 

“Thank you? For what? Saving me? I wanted to die. You should have let me.” 

He looks at Dazai, as though considering his words. He doesn’t seem surprised by his desire to die. Dazai narrows his eyes as he regards him.

“I see. And you are-”

“Dazai. Dazai Osamu.”

“Say, Dazai-kun. I could help you die a painless, quick death. That is what you desire, right? In return, all you need to do is help me with a simple favour. How’s that?”

The man smiles, a warm, genial thing. He extends his hand. 

Dazai looks at him, really looks at him; sees his faded coat and pressed shirt, well worn but still presentable, the simple attire of a humble doctor.

Except he’s not, is he?

“What a strange offer, sensei. You’re a doctor, and yet you’re offering to help your patient die. Not very ethical of you, is it?”

The man stares back, smile still on his face, his gaze unwavering. His eyes are dark red, the rust of dried blood, and unnervingly intense. Dazai can’t help but feel like a specimen on a dissecting table, like he’s being picked apart and he’s helpless to do anything.

“Dazai-kun, don’t make it sound so bad. We’re just two people who can help each other out. Isn’t that enough?”

He continues smiling, an undercurrent of something Dazai can’t exactly pinpoint in his eyes. Dazai looks down at his outstretched hand; he can see the blue-green of his veins against the paper white of his skin. 

And that is true, isn’t it. Dazai just wants to die. Everything else is just temporary entertainment to pass the time before he finally gets the peace he’s been looking for for so long.

Dazai shakes his hand—his hand is ice cold, and he grips Dazai’s hand just a little too tight. He is still smiling, the previously perceived friendliness in his eyes turning seemingly predatory and just a tad too smug (as though he’s won a game Dazai didn’t even realise they were playing). 

Dazai wonders why it feels like he’s just made a deal with the devil.

No Longer Human howls, a long, mournful sound.

–

That very night, Dazai watches as he takes his scalpel and slits the throat of the Port Mafia’s boss. Moonlight casts a purple glow through the stained glass, illuminating the bright crimson of blood splattering against the aged wallpaper. Dazai resists the urge to flinch.

The man turns to face him, the arc of blood on his face especially prominent under the full moon. He stares at Dazai, his eyes wide and crazed and just a little too bright. 

“The boss unfortunately passed away due to illness. His last wish was for me to assume his position as the mafia’s next leader. You are my witness, Dazai-kun.”

Dazai stands unmoving as he stares at him. From this moment on, he is tied to him.

No Longer Human screams and screams and screams.

He later learns the name of the new boss of the Port Mafia—Mori Ougai. 

–

Dazai is fifteen when Mori takes him under his wing—his new protege, moulded to be his right hand man. Mori trains him well, a brand of cruelty passed on from one generation to the next.

Mori places his hand on Dazai’s shoulder. It chills him to the bone, even despite the gloves on his hand, Mori’s coat on Dazai’s back. Dazai resists the urge to shiver.

“Dazai-kun, the mafia is a brutal place. To succeed in such a place, you have to do whatever it takes to win. Even if it means sacrificing your people.”

Mori’s voice is syrupy sweet.

“They are but pawns afterall.”

Dazai nods. He thinks he understands.

Dazai is sent in to infiltrate the mafia’s enemies armed only with his brain and his words, and yet it's only with these that he brings organisations down to their knees before the mafia crushes them into dust. He watches impassively as they struggle in a futile attempt to claw themselves to safety, past the line separating death from life, even as it's already blurred for them. He’s made to torture the unlucky who don’t quite manage to put a bullet in their own head or bite down on poison pills before the mafia gets to them.

Mori places his hand on Dazai’s cheek. His hand is ice cold. Dazai looks up at him. “Dazai-kun, I’m disappointed.” Dazai’s recent mission had ended in failure, and he had dragged himself back, body battered and bruised. Mori thumbs the bruise on Dazai’s cheek and presses down. Dazai forces himself to remain still. Mori must be satisfied by whatever he sees, because he releases Dazai and dismisses him.

Mori’s scalpel is glacial. He runs it down Dazai’s body, and Dazai has to suppress the urge to scream. “Pain is part and parcel of the mafia. It is important that you learn to understand it." Mori smiles, a small, evil thing, and slices into him, the clean, methodical cuts of a deft surgeon. No Longer Human cries.

It’s with his words, meant to maim and injure but not kill, not before he’s extracted every single drop of information out of them, that he leaves them ruined, their minds torn asunder, crying and begging for mercy. Their raw, visceral desire to live in a place where death is the norm never fails to delight him—persistent in surviving even in the most unwelcome of environments, it's humanity’s greatest defining characteristic.

It helps Dazai realise he’ll never truly understand what it means to be human. 

Mori summons Dazai to his office. Yet another failed mission, but this time Dazai has managed to mess up so horrendously, his entire squad was decimated and he himself had barely escaped alive. For all his efforts, Dazai didn’t even manage to get the required intel. He hasn’t even had time to go to the medical wing before he’s told the boss is asking for him. Mori’s back is turned when Dazai enters.

“Dazai-kun, I did tell you that your people are dispensable. But this, this was a complete waste of our resources.”

Mori sighs. Dazai remains silent, knows that he isn’t asking for excuses, isn’t expecting him to speak.

“What a disappointing performance. I thought you had learned from the previous time. What a shame, I’ll have to teach you myself now.”

Mori stands up, and the expression on his face is anything but regretful. His eyes glint with an unspoken promise.

That day, old wounds are reopened before they are stitched back together with careless suture. (Painful enough to make Dazai’s life miserable for the next few weeks, but unfortunately not enough to kill him. Never enough to kill him.)

–

The emptiness Dazai feels never fades. If anything, he feels worse than ever. (He doesn’t quite manage to forget the tortured, bloodcurling screams of his captives after he’s taken and taken and they’ve nothing left to give, even as their faces start to blur together and all he’s left with is the visceral memory of warm blood on the palms of his hands, doesn’t quite manage to forget the numbness he feels as he destroys whole organisations, the only remains bloody smears on the concrete.)

Any remnants of his humanity he could possibly have had are ripped from him either by his own hands or Mori’s, and Dazai is left shivering and completely hollow. 

No Longer Human feels different now—it weeps, the pitiful cries of a baby. Dazai doesn’t know why; he has nothing left to lose, not since the day it inhabited his body. 

–

Dazai tries even harder to put an end to his misery. Mori stops him every single time, and each time he ensures the recovery is even worse than before. Dazai knows it’s his way of telling him, your life is mine to decide what to do with. You belong to me.

Dazai thinks he understands No Longer Human’s anguish now.

The desire to die never truly fades, not even under Mori’s unique brand of mentoring. Dazai finds that his medicine cupboard provides a host of excellent options to a painless end. In turn, Mori locks it up. Dazai is nothing if not persistent, and his lockpicking skills are nothing if not immaculate. 

He’s mixing some sort of a deadly concoction while listening to Mori complain about some new organisation that’s causing the mafia trouble (as though it isn’t a simple problem that Dazai could deal with easily), when Mori speaks up.

“If you really want to die, I can make you a drug that’ll help you rest in peace.” He says it so casually Dazai almost thinks he misheard. 

“Really?” It’s too good to be true—everything Mori offers comes with an unspoken price.

Mori pulls something out of his drawer. “In exchange, I want you to help me investigate something.” 

He smiles at Dazai. It’s reminiscent of their first meeting. “It’s easy work. Not in the least bit dangerous.”

Dazai barely resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“I don’t believe you.”

There’s no way Mori would just give Dazai what he’s desired for so long that easily. When Mori tells Dazai about the previous boss reappearing, Dazai almost asks him if he’s crazy. He was there, watched as Mori slit his throat that night, watched him die .

Dead people don’t come back to life. 

His reappearance is a troubling matter for the both of them. Dazai might want to die, but he doesn’t particularly fancy torture, a broken jaw and 3 bullets in his chest. He doesn’t think Mori does either.

–

Mori sends him to Suribachi District to investigate. Hirotsu-san is telling him about the groups opposing the mafia (small fry, really) when his phone rings with a call from Mori. He’s mid sentence when-

Dazai is sent flying back. He slams into a wall, and it crumbles beneath him. He faintly registers the remains of the wall digging into his back, before he hears the most obnoxious laughter he’s ever had the displeasure of hearing.

The cloud of dust clears to reveal a boy who can’t possibly be much older than him. His hair burns a brilliant bright red, and his eyes, the deep blue of the waters in Yokohama Bay, blaze with the same intensity. Dazai looks up at him as the boy plants his foot squarely on him and smirks, his eyes lit bright with confidence and arrogance. 

Chuuya Nakahara. The King of the Sheep. Dazai hadn’t expected him to be so… annoying. 

It isn’t long before Hirotsu and Chuuya are engaged in combat. Dazai watches as he waits for his chance to step in. Chuuya keeps his hands firmly in his pockets the entire time they’re fighting. Interesting.

Dazai sees his opportunity when Hirotsu claps Chuuya on the shoulder, and Chuuya stands, proud and arrogant, thinking he’s already won. Dazai steps forward and cups Chuuya’s neck. 

No Longer Human surges forward, devouring his ability. Dazai almost lurches back from how forcefully No Longer Human lunges for Chuuya. Like it's desperate for his ability.

Chuuya is startlingly warm under his palm, more so than any other person he’s nullified before. Dazai can feel the hummingbird flutter of Chuuya’s heartbeat, feels it quicken and stutter as he’s left powerless under No Longer Human’s influence.

He feels alive in a way he’s never felt. 

Dazai barely has time to process anything before Chuuya sends him flying back. Dazai frowns. He’s smarter than he gave him credit for. (For a brief moment, he mourns the loss of Chuuya’s skin on his.)

No Longer Human screams, a loud, piercing sound. It’s the only warning he gets before the ground erupts in a violet glow.

–

Dazai drags Chuuya back to headquarters and Mori makes them work together to find the old boss and Arahabaki. Dazai doesn’t think he’s hated anyone more. Chuuya is awfully loud and arrogant and argumentative and impulsive and-

Chuuya is vividly human. He’s everything the mafia isn’t, everything Dazai isn’t. He burns with the intensity and brilliance of the sun, and Dazai is drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He aches with the need to touch him again, longs to reach out even if Chuuya’s radiance will scorch him.

Even as they quarrel and bicker all through their search for the old boss and Arahabaki, even as everything about Chuuya should be off putting in every sense, Chuuya is incandescent and Dazai wishes he could wrap his hands around Chuuya’s neck and squeeze until he’s absorbed all of Chuuya’s warmth, until he burns up along with Chuuya. He thinks that would be a good way to die.

Chuuya is fascinating, and Dazai wants him to be his.

Dazai is secretly glad when Chuuya agrees to his bet. It's laughably easy to gain the upper hand, especially since Chuuya relies way too heavily on his character’s abilities, and doesn’t stop to think before rushing in. He thinks there’s something to be said about the similarity between Chuuya’s in-game character and Chuuya himself. (It’s almost endearing, but Dazai shakes that thought off immediately.)

Dazai says exactly that to Chuuya, dangling another competition as bait in front of him. He knows Chuuya won’t refuse, can’t refuse, not when his pride is on the line. As predicted, Chuuya rises to Dazai’s taunts, and Dazai smirks, his victory certain. Chuuya as his dog has a nice ring to it, he thinks. Maybe he’ll even get him a collar. 

He watches silently as the other Sheep members talk to Chuuya. It’s abundantly clear that the Sheep are only using Chuuya for his ability; they’re merely scared, powerless children who’ve bitten off more than they can chew.

He sees Chuuya’s crippling loyalty, sees that he’s unable to reject them despite him being their leader, not the other way round, bound by his own twisted sense of responsibility to them. How interesting.

Chuuya is an easy target, and the Sheep have already set the stage for him. All Dazai needs to do is to tug gently at the threads of their manipulation to influence things to work in his favour. Mori will be pleased.

Dazai smiles as the pieces fall in place. As the Sheep girl wraps her arms around Chuuya’s in a last ditch attempt to get him to follow them, No Longer Human shrieks, outraged. An ugly emotion claws its way out of Dazai, and he resists the urge to walk over and sink his fingers into her eyes and squeeze to make her scream. He’s mine he’s mine he’s-

Chuuya shakes the girl off, and the ugly thing inside him retreats back into the hollow in his chest, satisfied. When they try yet again to convince Chuuya to use his ability to help them, Dazai can’t help but rub their failure in, a reminder to them and Chuuya both, that Chuuya is his own person. That he can make his own choices, and use his own ability how he wishes. The thing in his chest snarls, a low, guttural sound. Chuuya belongs to him Chuuya is his Chuuya- 

When Chuuya leaves the Sheep behind in the arcade, Dazai can’t help but feel a dark sense of satisfaction.

–

Dazai thinks Chuuya’s freedom from the shackles of the Sheep deserves celebration. He hasn’t exactly had a lot of experience with planning parties, and as he waits in the warehouse for Chuuya to arrive, he hopes Chuuya likes the cakes he bought with a certain chibi in mind, hopes he likes the balloons and streamers, loud and garish like him. (Dazai tells himself it's only so he can rub his victory into Chuuya’s face later, it’s really more of a celebration of Chuuya becoming his dog than him doing something nice for him.)

Of course, Chuuya being Chuuya, has to ruin everything, and quite literally crashes the party, slamming Randou to the ground before declaring his victory over Dazai. Dazai groans internally. 

Then Chuuya reveals that he’s Arahabaki, pulling the rug from under Dazai. 

This wasn’t an outcome he had predicted. No Longer Human goes berserk, a whirlwind in Dazai’s head. 

Dazai understands now. His fascination with Chuuya, with owning him, had merely been a fluke, must have been No Longer Human sensing Arahabaki in Chuuya and gravitating towards it in an attempt to devour it. No Longer Human had always been rather greedy.

He should be relieved, but instead, he feels a sense of grief, like he’s lost something he didn’t even know he had. 

Then Randou activates his ability, and Dazai has more pressing concerns to worry about. Like the old boss swinging at him with a scythe. He’s busy trying to avoid getting sliced into ribbons when Chuuya tells him of his plan to get around Randou’s extremely annoying reality-warping boxes. It’s simple enough that it just might work. 

As Randou struggles to keep them apart, Chuuya stands his ground and holds his hand out. Dazai reaches towards him, and when he wraps his hand around Chuuya’s, No Longer Human rushes forward eagerly to consume his ability, the roar of a blizzard howling through him. 

Chuuya’s hand is soft and warm beneath his, the gentle touch of summer sunshine on skin. No Longer Human’s chill dissipates, and Dazai is left with the mellowness he now knows is Chuuya. An undercurrent of something foreign runs under his skin, something Dazai can’t quite understand, something he doesn’t want to decipher.

All too soon, Chuuya is pulling away from him. No Longer Human returns with full force, leaving Dazai cold and alone. 

–

Dazai watches as the Sheep betray Chuuya. Everything happens as he expected. The Sheep cast Chuuya out once they think their one chance at power turned his back on them, and in the end Chuuya is left alone in the remains of a cliffside, attacked by someone he thought his friend, broken-hearted and betrayed. Chuuya’s weakness is his undying loyalty, and Dazai only needs to find the already sore bruise and press on it for him to crack. Dazai can feel No Longer Human’s self-satisfaction in the way it hums under his skin, soft and sweet instead of its usual discordance. He is mine he is mine he is-

If Dazai were human, he would almost feel sorry. How pitiful it must be, to go from one cage to another.

–

No Longer Human screams when Dazai sees Chuuya being taken under Kouyou’s wing. It’s not fair! He was the one that brought him into the mafia. Chuuya is his dog, he belongs to him! No Longer Human wails, an inhuman sound, as it tries desperately to reach out to Chuuya, to sink its claws into Arahabaki. Dazai longs to pull Chuuya from Kouyou’s side, to stake his claim on Chuuya, say that Chuuya is his and his only, that only he gets the privilege of owning Chuuya. 

Chuuya is incensed when Dazai begins to even insinuate that Chuuya is his dog, and they start bickering and snapping at each other, backlit by the pink-purple hue of the stained glass.

–

Dazai is outraged when Mori makes them official partners. Chuuya is infuriating in every sense of the word, and if their investigation together was any indication of his complete inability to just listen to Dazai, he already knows working with Chuuya will be the absolute worst.

“Mori-san, with all due respect, we literally can’t stand each other! In what universe is this a good idea? The stupid chibi doesn’t even know how to think, all he does is rush in like a complete idiot. It’s a sheer miracle he hasn’t gotten himself killed already!

 Dazai says this in a rush, his words tripping over one another, as he paces around Mori’s office. He didn’t predict for this to happen, doesn’t want this stupid partnership, doesn’t even want to look at Chuuya. Dazai gets this funny feeling in his chest whenever he sees Chuuya around, Chuuya who has already integrated well into the mafia, who has already made friends even if it’s only been a week since he’s met any of them, and Dazai feels like screaming.

It’s not fair, none of it is.

Mori smiles. Dazai just knows Mori is laughing at his suffering.

“Dazai-kun, I would appreciate it if you stopped walking around like that. It’s giving me a rather awful headache. Besides, didn’t you say Chuuya-kun was your dog? I’m sure you two will be able to sort something out.”

His tone brooks no argument, and Dazai groans. 

Elise looks up from whatever she’s doing and bounces over.

“Rintarou, bring me shopping now! I want a new dress, and it has to have ruffles. And it has to be pink!”

She stares at Dazai, as though daring him to speak.

Dazai hates her. She gives him the creeps, with her all too fake smile and her doll-like eyes. Dazai also knows a dismissal when he sees one. He sticks his tongue out at Elise when Mori isn’t looking before leaving. He can distantly hear her whining as the door closes behind him.

No Longer Human thrums with excitement under his skin at the prospect of consuming Chuuya’s ability.

Dazai wants nothing more than to claw it out.

–

Chuuya’s sheer excellence in combat is an exceptional match for Dazai’s unparalleled mind, and they move in perfect synchrony, even if they’ve just met and they both hate each other to the core. It infuriates Dazai that the both of them work so well together. 

Chuuya remains brash and childish and increasingly annoying, but when it comes down to it, he understands Dazai’s unspoken plans and executes them perfectly. Even while they squabble like children, Chuuya’s unwavering trust in Dazai’s plans, no matter how crazy or complicated, result in the highest success rate the mafia’s ever seen.

Their partnership is brutal and efficient, and the mafia flourishes, a flower blooming in the night. 

Chuuya is also the first person Dazai thinks he can call his friend.

Everybody in the mafia avoids Dazai like the plague, lowers their head and rushes past him when they see him in the violet hallways. He knows what they say about him, hushed whispers that tell of danger behind his back echoing through the shadowy hallways. They say Dazai is the demon prodigy, hands forever stained a deep red, that his blood runs mafia black. His own subordinates are deathly afraid of him, faces pale and voices trembling whenever they have to report back to him.

He doesn’t blame them; he recognises that he’s more monster than human. The thing inside him is proof of that.

Chuuya, wonderful, human, Chuuya, is the only exception. Where others shun him out of fear, Chuuya isn’t afraid to call him insulting names even Dazai thinks are stupid, isn’t afraid to threaten to beat him up when he makes his usual jokes about finding a beautiful woman to commit suicide with.

Even if most of the words that leave his mouth are some sort of sarcasm or snark, it’s still the best Dazai’s ever been given. Chuuya looks at him with blinding loyalty and unwavering concern that’s barely masked by annoyance and exasperation, and Dazai thinks, Chuuya’s humanity shines especially bright surrounded by darkness.

No Longer Human sings Chuuya’s name, the trill of a bird. Dazai aches with the need to reach out to Chuuya, to hold him close and call him his. He doesn’t understand why it feels like he’s being set alight, orange-red flames consuming him whole and leaving nothing but ashes set adrift in the wind. 

–

Despite everything about Chuuya being rough around the edges, he’s surprisingly gentle with Dazai. He’s understanding when Dazai vehemently refuses to seek out Mori to help him with his injuries after a particularly bad mission, only looking at Dazai for a moment too long before he takes the needle and thread, his fingers feather light against Dazai’s skin.

Dazai holds his breath and looks away from Chuuya as he unwraps his bandages. He’s worried Chuuya will hate him, will see him for the monster he is and leave him. 

No Longer Human is unusually subdued.

He hears Chuuya’s sharp inhale as he sees Dazai’s skin, the litany of scars and needle pinpricks from his suicide attempts, and Dazai braces himself for the worst. He thinks he couldn't survive Chuuya’s disgust, couldn’t bear to see the fear he’s seen on everyone else on him. But Chuuya doesn’t say anything, only tracing Dazai’s scars gingerly, before he’s stitching his wound together.

Dazai looks up at Chuuya. His eyes are focussed as he threads the needle in and out of Dazai’s skin. Chuuya must realise he’s staring, because he glares at Dazai.

“Stop staring, asshole. I’ll get distracted. Are you purposely trying to make me mess up?”

Dazai hadn’t expected that. It seemed Chuuya had the habit of throwing off his calculations.

“Silly chibi, I would never!” He slides on a teasing smile, and soon they’re bickering like children again.

Despite No Longer Human, Dazai feels impossibly warm. 

–

Chuuya’s dragged him elsewhere to do something stupid, and childish (as expected of a chibi). It’s a habit of his when they don’t have a mission to attend to. Chuuya seems to have an obsession with video games, or maybe he just wants revenge against Dazai, who’s never lost to him no matter the game Chuuya chooses. 

“There’s no way I lost to you again! Stupid mackarel, you better stop cheating!” Chuuya glares at Dazai as his character dies a horrible death on screen for the fifth time in a row. 

“Chuuya, did your hat eat your brain? Or does being short mean you have no brain to begin with? Why would I need to cheat when you’re absolutely terrible at this game?” Dazai smiles at Chuuya, as he watches Chuuya slowly turn a tomato red.

“Shut up! I’m still growing, and my hat happens to be fantastic!”

“Yeah right! ‘Growing’ my ass, at this rate you’ll be the size of a small child forever!”

Chuuya scowls, before aiming a punch at Dazai’s face. Having expected that to happen, Dazai merely dodges, smirking at Chuuya before he sticks his tongue out at him.

“Poor chibi, now he’s too short to even hit me!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

–

Chuuya is there when Dazai tries to kill himself again. No Longer Human has been particularly loud, and Dazai is just so tired. Dazai takes the razor and slits his wrists, his movements mechanical. He watches himself bleed, watches the blood run down his fingers and onto the tiled floor, and leans against the bathroom wall as he waits for the numbness to settle in.

Dazai’s vision is starting to blur when Chuuya starts banging on the locked door. 

“Stupid mackerel, what are you even doing inside? You’ve been in there for ages! Stop hogging the bathroom, god damn it!”

He doesn’t respond. 

“Oi, Dazai, open the door before I kick this damn thing down! I swear, you’d better not be doing some stupid shit inside or I’ll kill you myself!”

Dazai chuckles to himself. Chuuya can be so persistent sometimes. Chuuya bangs on the door with increasing frequency, before it’s silent. Dazai thinks he must have given up on trying to get in, when the door flies open. 

Chuuya really is just like a dog, Dazai thinks.

“Dazai!”

Dazai faintly registers Chuuya’s arms around him. Chuuya shakes him, his voice panicked.

“Dazai, look at me.”

Dazai feels a gloved hand on his cheek, too reminiscent of a doctor with a sharp smile, and flinches, squeezing his eyes shut. He braces for the cold of a scalpel that doesn’t come.

“Hey. Hey, it’s me, it’s Chuuya. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Dazai opens his eyes. Chuuya’s face swims into focus. His eyes are wide open, bright blue in a world of black and white, filled with concern and another emotion Dazai can’t name. Chuuya presses a towel to his arm. He moves slowly to place a hand on Dazai’s back, as though he’s an animal he’s afraid of scaring off.

No Longer Human is oddly quiet, its previous screeching in his head mellowed out to a soft hum.

Later, Chuuya is silent as he bandages Dazai’s wrists. He doesn’t look at Dazai the entire time, even as his touch is tenderly soft, more so than Dazai could ever deserve.

He feels like a monster.

–

Dazai is sixteen when Chuuya first uses Corruption. Chuuya mumbles under his breath, a string of words too soft and quick for Dazai to catch as he peels the gloves off his hands. For the first time, Dazai sees Chuuya fraught with apprehension, sees it in the way his movements are hesitant, in the way his body is tense, as though bracing for an impact only he can see. 

It’s the first time Dazai sees his bare hands since they first met, and he wants nothing more than for Chuuya to wrap them around his neck and squeeze until Dazai’s left gasping.

Something in the air shifts, and No Longer Human sings with excitement.

Red tendrils wrap around Chuuya, crawling their way up his body. He tilts his head back and laughs, a grating, inhuman sound, before he shoots into the air. Dazai can feel a mounting pressure on his body squeezing him.

Chuuya shoots balls of gravity everywhere, absolutely decimating everything and everyone around him. His hair is especially bright, the flames of hell come to claim the sinners. 

Beautiful.

He’s a sight to behold, and Dazai thinks he could get on his knees and worship him. 

Chuuya’s laughter takes on a maniacal quality as he focuses his eyes on Dazai. His eyes are but pinpricks, the alluring blue replaced by red tinged pupils. Dazai distantly realises that Chuuya’s crying, his tears blood red streaks across his face. It’s indistinguishable from Arahabaki’s marks.

Dazai snaps out of his reverie; realises that Chuuya’s already small frame is bending at unnatural angles, his movement jerky and uncontrolled, nothing like his usual grace when he’s fighting. Chuuya looks at him and makes his way unsteadily towards him, his arm already raised, trembling, to throw a black hole at him. He can’t control it.

Dazai rushes towards him, closing his fingers around Chuuya’s arm.

Chuuya is warm under him, though Dazai can’t tell if it's from the blood or Chuuya’s skin. No Longer Human leaps forward to consume Arahabaki in a blinding blue light. He watches as it releases its hold on Chuuya, its red marks fading, leaving only Chuuya’s own blood staining his skin.

He collapses against Dazai, a puppet with its strings cut. Dazai pulls Chuuya onto his back in an ungraceful motion, his head slumping against Dazai’s neck. 

“Dumb chibi, you can’t even die peacefully, can you?” 

“You-” Chuuya raises his head, spluttering, before he gives up on whatever snarky response he was going to say and passes out. 

–

The next time Dazai sees Chuuya, he’s lying comatose in a hospital bed. He’s not used to Chuuya being so quiet, so lifeless. Dazai decides that he hates it. 

Mori appears beside him. “Severe internal bleeding and many broken bones. No need to worry, he’s fine. He’ll wake in the next few days.” Mori turns to look at him. “Dazai-kun, what exactly happened to our dear Chuuya-kun here? He’s awfully banged up for such a simple mission.”

Dazai gives him a rundown of the events. There’s no point in lying, even to protect Chuuya. Mori will find out eventually, probably already knows what happened, and then he’ll punish Dazai a thousand times worse.

He already knows Mori’s going to milk Chuuya for what he’s worth, even if it destroys Chuuya’s body from the inside out each time. And Chuuya, stupid, stupid , Chuuya, will be all too glad to listen to Mori, will be more than willing to go to the ends of hell and back just for the mafia, for a man who doesn’t even remotely care about his wellbeing.

Not for the first time, Dazai hates the collar around Chuuya’s neck, and more than ever, hates that he put the leash in Mori’s hand. 

As expected, Mori is pleased when Dazai tells him of Chuuya’s destructive capability in Corruption. He can practically see the gears turning in Mori’s head as he plans on how exactly to use the mafia’s new trump card.

Dazai feels sick to his stomach.

“Dazai-kun, as Chuuya’s partner, do try to look after him better. I’ll let it slide this once seeing that it’s your first time utilising this… gift of his. We wouldn’t want Chuuya-kun to be out of commission for so long, would we?”

Mori looks at him, eyes glinting, as though he knows something Dazai doesn’t.

Dazai schools his face into neutrality even as No Longer Human whimpers under Mori’s gaze, a sad, pathetic sound.

“Yes boss. I understand.”

Dazai continues standing there even after Mori leaves the room. He can still see Corruption’s toll on Chuuya’s body; his skin is deathly pale and slightly translucent, Arahabaki’s marks a spiderweb across his skin. He’s lying so still, that if not for the slight up-and-down of his chest or the monotonous beeping of the monitor, Dazai would think he was dead. 

–

Dazai can only watch as Chuuya uses Corruption again and again to further the mafia’s agenda, and each time, Chuuya’s body is left more broken and bruised than the previous. The salvation Dazai once saw in Corruption is now uglied by the image of Chuuya’s body at the mercy of Arahabaki, by Chuuya’s nightmares that leave him shaking as Dazai tries to comfort him.

Sometimes, Dazai wishes they had never discovered Corruption. Maybe then, Chuuya wouldn’t be left a wreck of his former self, bones broken and forced back into place again and again. 

–

“Dazai-kun.”

Mori’s standing with his back turned to Dazai as he looks at the city under him. The sky is cloudless and a pale blue. He turns to face Dazai.

“It would do you well to remember that emotions aren’t wanted, or needed, in the mafia. Attachment is dangerous.”

Dazai stands unmoving as Mori stares at him, his gaze unreadable. Dazai nods. No Longer Human screams in Dazai’s head.

He knows this is Mori’s way of warning him to keep in line, the punishment for insubordination unspoken but clear as day. Mori turns back to look out of the glass panes, a dismissal Dazai is more than happy to comply with.

He doesn’t ask Mori why he’s telling him this now. 

–

Mori’s hold over Chuuya is ironclad. Dazai can tell Chuuya is almost glad when he orders them to use Corruption, even if he’s always left in agony afterwards, body crushed under Arahabaki’s power.

Dazai wants to grab Chuuya by the shoulders and shake him hard. He doesn’t understand why Chuuya continues to put himself through this torture, why he’s happy to give his life up for what is ultimately a meaningless cause. His loyalty is a tightening noose around his own neck, and he’s running out of time.

If he were more honest with himself, Dazai would think he was worried. 

–

Dazai’s awoken by knocking at his door. He wonders who it could be. He doesn’t recall having a mission today.

Chuuya is standing there when he opens the door. He knows immediately that something’s wrong. Chuuya isn’t one to pay house visits, not to him.

“Chibi! What a pleasant surprise! You’re so small I almost didn’t see you! What brings-”

He hasn’t even had time to finish his sentence when Chuuya steps forward, his fingers encircling Dazai’s wrist. Dazai’s eyes widen by a fraction; No Longer Human leaps forward for Chuuya’s ability, the roar in Dazai’s head as it consumes it not unfamiliar to him by now. 

Chuuya’s fingers are slender, fragile around Dazai’s wrist. They’re unusually cold. 

Dazai looks at Chuuya. His pupils are blown wide, the bright sapphire clouded over, unfocused and unseeing. Chuuya is trembling slightly, and it’s not because of the chill of the night.

“Chuuya?”

Dazai places his hand on Chuuya’s head, moves it to let Chuuya lean against Dazai. He moves slowly as he brings Chuuya in, trying not to spook him.

They sit on his bed. Chuuya remains silent and unmoving. Dazai runs his hand down Chuuya’s back unsteadily, unsure of what to make of the situation.

It’s later when Chuuya stops shaking. He looks up at Dazai, his face flushed the faintest red. Dazai resists the urge to thumb his cheek. 

“Thank you.” He whispers this, soft and timid, so unlike the Chuuya Dazai knows. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

This is Dazai’s way of offering Chuuya a way out. They can pretend tonight never happened if Chuuya wishes so. It’s the one act of kindness Dazai can afford him under the cloak of the night sky.

Chuuya hesitates. He looks away from Dazai to stare at the wall behind. Dazai thinks he’s not going to talk, when he speaks up.

“It was just Arahabaki. You know, the usual ‘my body doesn’t belong to me’. And the ‘I could kill everyone and I wouldn’t be able to stop myself’ kind of thing.”

Chuuya chuckles, but his voice breaks halfway. Chuuya looks down at their joined hands. He doesn’t let go of Dazai.

“I just. I needed No Longer Human. It makes things quiet. A god in your head can be quite annoying.”

He looks at Dazai again and smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Dazai doesn’t know what to say. He isn’t used to vulnerability. It’s easier to pretend to hate each other behind mocking insults and purposeful antagonization. In a way, they’ve both put up walls around each other, and Dazai’s afraid of seeing what’s behind them. Afraid of what he’ll find.

He squeezes Chuuya’s hand. 

It’s okay, I’m here. 

The words go unspoken, but Dazai knows Chuuya hears them nonetheless.

–

Dazai winces when he sees Chuuya limping after a particularly draining mission, his movements jerky and careful in a way that they never are. Chuuya glares at him.

“What are you looking at, asshole?”

Dazai’s voice takes on a mocking tone even as No Longer Human flutters around his chest, unsure and unsteady.

“Poor slug, is his tiny body too weak to even walk now?” 

Instead of their usual back-and-forth banter, Chuuya goes unusually silent. Something flits across his face, almost too quick for Dazai to catch. Dazai instantly knows he said something wrong, and he’s about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when Chuuya speaks, his voice small and quiet.

“Just drop it, okay?”

Dazai doesn’t know what to say. He’s not used to this seriousness between them. No Longer Human stutters in his chest, timid and hesitant. He looks at Chuuya, but he’s staring at the ground, his expression unreadable. 

–

It’s only later, when they’re lying next to each other, the only sounds their steady breathing, that Chuuya speaks up.

“You know, I always knew my time in the mafia had an expiration date. I just didn’t think it would come so soon.” 

Dazai turns to look at Chuuya. He’s oddly contemplative, a small smile on his face. Dazai doesn’t know what to say. Telling Chuuya otherwise would be lying, to both Chuuya and himself. 

Chuuya continues talking.

“Dying wouldn’t be that bad, I don’t think. At least I’d have done something with my life.”

“I didn’t think you were the suicidal one out of the two of us.”

Dazai chuckles, but even to him it sounds hollow.

“I don’t want to die. I want to live. I want to be in control. But we can’t always have what we want, can we? I knew what I signed up for when I pledged my loyalty to the Boss.”

Dazai frowns. He hates being reminded of Chuuya’s cage, hates being reminded that Mori has Chuuya wrapped around his finger, subservient to a fault.

Not for the first time, he wishes he had never brought Chuuya into the mafia. Chuuya is a phoenix, glorious and splendid, destined for greater things than to be chained as a pet. 

“Hey mackerel, we’re partners, right?”

Chuuya voices this question into the air between them, and there it hangs, heavy with a weight Dazai can’t place. 

Dazai hesitates. The words are on his tongue, ready to be spoken aloud, but yet he can’t. It’s so easy to spin another web of lies, to trick and deceive, but he knows the hurt he’ll see blossom on Chuuya’s face, knows he won’t be able to stand it.

No Longer Human falters. Dazai decides he can allow himself this one moment of honesty.

“Yes. Yes, we are.”

When Chuuya turns to look at him, the blues of his eyes are brighter than usual, the cloudless sky of a warm summer day and the clear waters of Yokohama Bay. Dazai can see the scars left behind by Arahabaki’s claws on his face, faded but still there, always there, can see the way Chuuya’s pulse quickens, a bird in flight.

Dazai longs to reach out, to touch his palm to Chuuya’s cheek and feel the warmth beneath his skin, to reassure him that everything’s okay if they have each other.

Chuuya must see something in his eyes, for his expression softens, and he reaches out to hold Dazai’s hand.

“I’ve already accepted that I’ll die young, but… Dazai, please. Promise me you won’t let me die like that. Not when I’m not myself.” 

Chuuya’s face is unguarded, a rare moment of vulnerability, his eyes impossibly wide and pleading. He holds Dazai’s hands in his, and No Longer Human dissipates under his touch. 

Chuuya is still as he looks at Dazai, and Dazai looks back at him, traces the arch of his cheeks, the sweep of his eyelashes, the curve of his lips. Dazai thinks this is the one thing he can do for Chuuya.

“I promise.”

They don’t talk about it again.

–

Dazai meets Ango and Oda in Bar Lupin on a quiet night. Between glasses of amber whiskey, an unlikely friendship forms between an executive, the mafia errand boy, and an intelligence agent. 

Odasaku is kind and well-mannered, a single white lily amidst the blood-soaked petals of the mafia. When Dazai learns of his unwillingness to kill, even while he’s employed in the mafia, Dazai can’t even be surprised.

He thinks Odasaku is too good to be in such a corrupt and ugly place. 

Odasaku listens when Dazai goes on and on about his desire for a painless suicide, even while Ango laughs awkwardly and downs more of his whiskey.

He understands Dazai’s frustration about No Longer Human and how lonely and isolated it makes him feel, understands that Dazai feels there’s nothing he can do to change the way it makes him feel. For the first time in his life, Dazai feels like there’s someone who knows the suffocating silence of No Longer Human. 

For once, Dazai doesn’t feel quite as lonely anymore. 

–

Dazai spends more and more of his nights in Bar Lupin, in the company of Odasaku and Ango. He feels like he’s finally found his footing in the mafia, with his recent promotion to executive, and now, this newfound friendship.

No Longer Human is quieter these days, an ever present humming in the background of his mind. 

It’s after a mission with Chuuya that his feet bring him to Bar Lupin yet again. They had succeeded, but not without the sacrifice of some men. Chuuya had been upset, more so than Dazai had expected. 

“You didn’t have to! They were people. Our people.”

Chuuya is furious, practically shouting the words at Dazai, yet his eyes burn with something more than anger.

“You don’t get it, slug. It was the only way. The fastest way. Sometimes, we have to do what we need to. That’s just how it is.”

Dazai doesn’t understand what Chuuya’s issue is. It’s not like either of them haven’t killed before. What difference does it make, whether it's their own men or not?

“You’re right. I don’t get it. You could have saved them. They died for nothing! Or are you just too stupid to find a way to save our men and complete the mission?”

Dazai refuses to rise to Chuuya’s bait. It’s a cheap tactic, and a poor attempt at manipulation.

“It’s not for nothing. We got what we needed. Besides, they’re just our subordinates. They’re dispensable. Didn’t think you had a heart now, chibi.”

“They’re people. Real people, with lives, with families, outside of the mafia. They’re not just pawns on a chessboard for you to manipulate! But you don’t understand that, do you?”

Dazai can hear what Chuuya is insinuating. That Dazai’s an unfeeling monster. That Dazai manipulated Chuuya the same way all those years ago.

 Chuuya stares long and hard at Dazai. Dazai doesn’t know what he’s hoping to see.

Dazai finds himself at the bar table, the dim lighting of Bar Lupin casting a warm glow. Oda is already there, staring at the glass in front of him.

Dazai orders his usual, and the moment the bartender sets the glass down, he downs the entire glass, not caring that he’s wasting a perfectly good glass of whisky.

Odasaku turns to look at him. “What happened this time?”

He’s listened to Dazai whine about Chuuya on multiple occasions already. Today is no exception, and he doesn’t say anything as Dazai talks, nodding along as Dazai complains about Chuuya for what must be the tenth time in this week alone.

Under the warm orange light of Bar Lupin, between their glasses of whisky and Odasaku’s warm gaze and fond smile, Dazai feels like he’s found a home.

Odasaku’s gentle smile is something so precious, he wants to bottle it up and keep it forever.

His argument with Chuuya is quickly forgotten.

–

Mori calls for fewer and fewer missions requiring the both of them. It seems Double Black isn’t as needed anymore when all the other organisations have already heard of them, the remnants of enemies crushed under their power fanning the flames of fear.

Dazai barely sees Chuuya around anymore, with Chuuya being deployed to more solo missions now that he’s an executive, now that he’s not just a scared new recruit under Kouyou’s wing. 

He’s lucky if he sees Chuuya’s back turned to him as he chats with his subordinates, animated laughter bright in the air, or the familiar rust of Chuuya’s hair around the corner of a hallway, elusive and always disappearing before Dazai can even begin to grasp at it.

Dazai knows No Longer Human misses Chuuya’s ability. He can feel it in the way it reaches out for Arahabaki, can feel it in the way it fills him with sheer want and burning desire. 

He tells himself it’s better this way. It’s not like he needs Chuuya anymore, not with Ango and Odasaku by his side. 

–

Dazai decides to seek Chuuya out when he’s avoiding doing the paperwork Mori’s dumped on him after he refused to take Elise out shopping. For you to keep busy, he had said. Dazai tells himself it’s not because he misses him.

No Longer Human titters, fluttering around in excitement. 

He walks into the sparring room to see Chuuya talking and laughing with someone. If Dazai remembers correctly, his name is Tachihara. The both of them are slick with sweat. Chuuya’s shirt clings to him, almost obscenely, the lines of his muscle clear as day.

Dazai realises he’s staring.

Tachihara must have said something particularly funny, because Chuuya tilts his head back in a laugh, exposing the slim column of his neck, shiny with sweat. Chuuya’s laughter is a beautifully bright sound, full of life and something so out of place in the mafia. No Longer Human stutters in Dazai’s chest. 

Chuuya smiles at Tachihara. His eyes are lit with something Dazai hasn’t seen in a long time. Dazai narrows his eyes. He thought Chuuya’s tiny, fond smile was reserved for him only, in the darkness of dusk, whispered thank yous and quiet it’s okays shared between the both of them.

No Longer Human curls around Dazai’s heart, a dark, ugly thing, and constricts.

Dazai clears his throat. The both of them turn, their conversation momentarily forgotten. The fear on Tachihara’s face is palpable as he stares at Dazai, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Dazai can see his throat bobbing as he tries to swallow. Dazai looks at Chuuya. Chuuya merely glares at him.

“Dazai-san. I- I apologise. I didn’t-”

Tachihara stutters as he glances between him and Chuuya, before deciding to stare at his shoes. 

“Didn’t? Didn’t what?”

Dazai walks over to them slowly, savouring the way Tachihara quivers as he stands there. He loops his arm around Chuuya’s and pulls Chuuya towards him.

“Chibi, why didn’t you tell me about your little… friend here?”

Dazai smiles, sharp enough to slice the tension in the air. 

“Bastard. Stop with your scary executive act, you literally look so stupid right now.”

Chuuya snaps at him, the irritation clear on his face. No Longer Human preens at the fact that Chuuya doesn’t pull away from him.

“Tachihara, you can go. I’ll talk with you later.”

Chuuya nods at Tachihara, dismissing him, and Tachihara visibly relaxes, before he practically bolts for the door.

“Chuuya! I was just starting to have fun!”

Dazai whines, pouting at Chuuya. “You didn’t have to scare him off like that…”

Chuuya scoffs at that.

‘Whatever you say, dumbass. Besides, what are you even doing here? And next time, knock before you enter! What are you, uncivilised?”

Dazai slides on a grin.

“Do I need a reason to come find my favourite little hatrack? Maybe I just wanted to see if you’ve grown taller! Evidently, you haven’t. You’re as tiny as ever!”

Dazai snatches Chuuya’s hat off his head, and Chuuya squawks, indignant.

“Maybe if you stopped wearing this stupid hat-”

“Shut it! And give it back! You clearly have no taste!”

Chuuya kicks Dazai firmly in the shins, taking the opportunity to snatch his hat back when Dazai’s caught off-guard. Dazai’s whining about his partner abusing him when Chuuya speaks up, unusually solemn.

“It’s good that you’re here anyways. Saves me the trouble of looking for you. I wanted to ask you something.”

Dazai looks at him. Chuuya’s ears are turning a strawberry pink. 

“Chibi’s blushing! How cute, is he going to profess his undying love for me and then commit double suicide with me? Why, I would-”

Dazai yelps as Chuuya pinches him hard. “That hurts!”

“Shut up and listen! Look, Boss just told me he’s sending me to Europe for a solo mission tomorrow. Some organisation there is causing us trouble again, and I won’t be back for 6 weeks at least. I was thinking… if you would like to get drinks together. Celebrate my leaving your obnoxious ass for once, or something.”

Chuuya trails off into nervous laughter. His neck is flushed a bright red now. He looks up at Dazai, and his eyes are hopeful. No Longer Human thrums under his skin, flighty and anxious.

“Or something, huh? Well, I’m honoured that Chuuya thought of me! Unfortunately, I’m going drinking with Odasaku and Ango tonight. Maybe next time.”

The embers of hope in Chuuya’s eyes flicker out, replaced by something smaller, more vulnerable.

“Odasaku and Ango. Over your own partner? How heartless, Dazai.”

Chuuya whispers the words under his breath, but Dazai catches them nonetheless. 

“Chibi couldn’t possibly think he’s that important, could he?”

The words slip out of Dazai, and he hears Chuuya’s sharp inhale of breath before he registers what he just said. No Longer Human flutters, distressed.

Dazai looks at Chuuya. The hurt in his eyes is visceral and raw. Dazai wishes he could take his words back. 

“Screw you, Dazai. I can’t believe I thought this was a good idea.”

Chuuya’s eyes burn an icy blue, the usual warmth replaced by something colder, something harsher.

“You can’t even see your partner off? You’ve been blowing me off every single time for your precious Odasaku and Ango. Nice to know where your priorities lie. You know what? You can take your new friends and shove them up your ass.”

He pauses, as though contemplative.

“Actually, how did you befriend them? It’s not like a monster like you makes for good company. I would know.” 

No Longer Human hisses, a snake rearing its head and baring its fangs, ready to strike. Dazai can hear a steady humming in his ears, the static of lightning before a thunderstorm, can feel the freezing anger of No Longer Human in the hollow of his chest.

If this is the game Chuuya wants to play, he’ll gladly play with Chuuya.

He smiles, sharp and lethal, a knife pointed straight at Chuuya’s jugular. He wants to sink his teeth into Chuuya’s throat, wants Chuuya to bleed . 

“Is chibi jealous? He should be, Odasaku and Ango are much better than he could ever be! They’re not microscopic and they don’t yap like a dog. Most of all, they’re human, not just a string of code. But Chuuya wouldn’t know how that feels, would he?” 

Anger flares in Chuuya’s eyes. Chuuya burns impossibly bright, a vivid red glow that’s almost blinding. The ground beneath them cracks under gravity’s weight.

Dazai is sure Chuuya’s a second away from lunging at him. Not for the first time, he wonders what it would feel like to die under Chuuya’s hand. 

Chuuya laughs. It sounds like Arahabaki—inhuman and grating and just a little hysterical. 

“Me? That’s rich coming from you. I’m sure your precious Odasaku and Ango don’t know what you actually are. They aren’t the ones who have to do your dirty work. They haven’t seen what you do to people. I wonder what they would say if they saw who you really are, demon prodigy . I’ve seen you at your worst. I know you’re not human. Not now, not ever.”

It’s all too easy for Dazai to forget that Chuuya can be awfully cruel when he wants to be. 

No Longer Human howls, chilling Dazai to the bone. Dazai hates everything about this, hates that they’re arguing, that Chuuya’s face is twisted in as much hurt as anger, that Chuuya is attacking Dazai where he knows it’ll hurt the most.

It’s still too late—the damage is done and Dazai is angry and empty and No Longer Human’s loneliness is crawling back in and-

Dazai slides on a mocking smile. He knows exactly which buttons to press to make Chuuya crack. It’s almost too easy.

“I’m not the one who tries so desperately to convince himself he’s human. Honestly, Chuuya, it’s pathetic. You’re nothing more than a government experiment gone wrong. At least I-”

Chuuya growls and lunges for Dazai, pinning him to the ground. Between the phoenix fire of his hair and the overwhelming gravity of his ability, Dazai is reminded of his burning desire to be consumed by Arahabaki, to be reduced to ashes by Chuuya’s power. 

Dazai doesn’t flinch as Chuuya punches him in the face, doesn’t move as he wraps his hands around his neck and squeezes. He thinks he can taste the copper-iron of blood. Dazai looks up into the deep blue of Chuuya’s eyes, incandescent with fury.

He can see Arahabaki’s hold on Chuuya tighten; his pupils are constricted, its claws creeping up Chuuya’s neck.

No Longer Human thrashes around, the frantic movements of a cornered animal. 

Dazai smirks. Go on. Do it.

Something flickers across Chuuya’s eyes, too fast for Dazai to catch, and Chuuya releases Dazai as though he’s been scalded. The rush of oxygen is dizzying, leaving Dazai lying there as Chuuya backs away. 

“Go to hell, Dazai. I hope I never have to see you again.”

Chuuya practically spits the words out, before he storms out, and Dazai is left alone on the blood-smeared floor.

Dazai doesn’t fail to notice the way Chuuya’s shaking.

They’ve fought before; it’s not the first time their arguments have ended in them exchanging blows, and it’s hardly the first time Chuuya’s come close to murdering Dazai. This feels different.

Somehow, it feels final.

–

True to his word, Dazai doesn’t even manage to get a glimpse of Chuuya before he flies off to Europe, leaving Dazai behind uncertain and unsteady. He doesn’t know how to fix this mess he partly made, not when his pride doesn’t allow him to, not when No Longer Human has solidified into something colder, something lonelier.

Dazai would never admit it, not out loud, not to himself, but a part of him misses Chuuya.

He tells himself it’s just No Longer Human missing Arahabaki’s power.

Then Mimic comes to Yokohama, and Dazai has more to worry about than a simple quarrel between the both of them. He watches Odasaku’s heart break as it's revealed Ango is nothing more than a filthy traitor; can practically see the question Odasaku is harbouring in his heart but doesn’t voice. 

Did this mean nothing to you?

Human relations are something so foreign to Dazai, and for all his meticulous schemes and careful manipulation of his pawns, he has never quite figured out the secrets of the human heart. Even when he’s faced with the fracturing of quiet laughter on honey tinted nights, he’s still left grasping at mere threads of an answer. 

What can one do when someone they love betrays them, Dazai wonders. 

Dazai doesn’t think he knows the answer, knows he’ll never know, as he watches Odasaku mourn the love that could have been now trampled to dust, the dying embers of a house on fire. 

–

Mimic soon presents themselves as a greater problem than Dazai could have ever predicted, persistent in their pursuit of a honourable death to fulfil their sick desires of a soldier’s glorious death. Dazai knows someone is behind this, the circumstances of Mimic coming to Yokohama too mysterious to be a thing of chance, but the web is far too tangled for him to decipher.

It frustrates him. He does know one thing though—something is coming. It's the same way he knows No Longer Human senses it too. 

A storm is coming, and Dazai doesn’t know if they’re prepared to handle it. 

Dazai hears about Odasaku’s orphans, and he knows it's the culmination of Mimic’s attacks—the crescendo of an opera, the final act of a play. 

He arrives at the house.

The sky is overcast. Grey clouds and billowing smoke meet as one. 

Dazai knows when he sees a man who has given up. The fight drained out of someone, their will to live smothered out—he’s seen it in his own reflection, in the eyes of the mafia victims, cornered but no longer afraid. And now, in Odasaku. 

No Longer Human curls around Dazai and squeezes. He can feel the frostbite of winter seeping into his bones.

Dazai tries to convince Odasaku to find something to hold on to. To try and continue living. The words sound hollow even to himself. Something ugly claws at him from the inside. When Odasaku turns to leave, Dazai reaches out, tries to stop him.

He slips through his fingers, and Dazai feels like screaming. Feels like pleading for him to come back, to please, please, don’t go on this suicide mission.

I can’t do this without you.

No Longer Human is silent.

It starts to rain. 

–

Dazai sees the Special Abilities Permit in Mori’s office, and the situation becomes abundantly clear. He feels sick to his stomach. No Longer Human bares its teeth, a coil of cold anger in the hollow of his chest. Mori smiles at him, smug and knowing, and Dazai has to resist the temptation to reach over and wrap his hands around his bony neck. 

When Dazai says he wants to save Odasaku because he is his friend, Mori only smiles wider and leans his chin on his clasped hands, as though deep in thought.

As though he didn’t already know this, the manipulative bastard.

He can feel Mori’s stare boring into his back when he leaves. Dazai feels like he’s exposed his soft underbelly to a viper who’s waiting to strike, and he hates it. 

–

Dazai arrives at the warehouse and it’s all too quiet. 

He makes his way through the carnage; bullet casings and bodies riddled with holes littering the ground. Dazai hopes that with each body he sees it's not Odasaku, and each time he’s greeted by an unknown face he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

No Longer Human thrums under his skin, unsettled and apprehensive. Like it wants to crawl out of his body. 

Dazai hears a gunshot. He turns around and runs in the direction of the sound—sees two bodies on the ground. He registers dimly that one of them is Odasaku and he’s running towards him, Odasaku’s name out of his mouth, before he even realises it. He can’t be too late he can’t be please-

He holds Odasaku, and he’s too quiet, too still. Dazai can hear No Longer Human roaring in his head, thunderous against the still of the air. Dazai feels something warm against his hand; when he pulls it back he sees it’s sticky with the crimson of blood. Odasaku’s blood.

He feels like throwing up. 

Odasaku’s eyes are closed; his chest flutters with the slightest of breath. Dazai grips Odasaku tighter—reassuring him he’s here, that he’s got him. (Perhaps it’s more of a reassurance for himself than anything else-)

Odasaku is so, so, foolish. Dazai wants to shake him, to ask him why, but he knows any answer would come up short. He’s all too familiar with the beckoning of death himself. 

Odasaku reaches up to cup his cheek, and Dazai startles at the contact, gentle and so warm, even now. No Longer Human rushes through his veins, an unsteady rhythm.

Odasaku looks up at him, the grey iris clear as day. Dazai’s chest constricts. 

He tells him he’ll never be able to find what he’s looking for in the mafia, will never be able to fill that lonely void inside him. Dazai knows he’s right, knows that the mafia holds nothing for him, not anymore. Still, he feels like crying.

Saving people has made you a little bit better. I know, because I’m your friend.

Odasaku says this with a smile on his face, and Dazai has never hated himself more. Odasaku deserves more than this—deserves to live out his life with his orphans, deserves to write his book, deserves better than a death orchestrated for Mori’s gain.

Deserves more than dying alone with only Dazai for company. 

No Longer Human weeps, the cries of a widow in mourning.

Dazai is so, so, cold.

–

Dazai kneels on the ground, his head bowed. He holds Odasaku close to him—tender, even in death. He stays kneeling and cradles him close—until it’s no longer warm to the touch, until the blood on his hands has already congealed into something colder. Dazai lays the body on the ground, his movements still gentle, and stands. He does not know what to do, not anymore.

Become a good person.

He thinks he can try, for his friend.

The rain continues to fall.

–

Dazai chooses a quiet spot that overlooks the city for Odasaku’s grave. His tombstone sits in the shade, the smooth grey stone shadowed by the leaves above. Dazai can hear the distant call of a bird. It’s the nicest he can afford with the scraps of money he had before he joined the mafia. He didn’t think it would be right for Odasaku’s final resting place to be tarnished by dirty money and memories of blood. 

He doesn’t buy flowers for him.

–

Dazai leaves the mafia on a warm summer night. The air is stiflingly still, shadowy streets silent apart from the quiet scuttling of rats. He slips out of the mafia headquarters, his executive office now left empty, no sign it was ever occupied. He knows Mori will know exactly what he’s done, if he doesn’t already know.

It's almost too easy to cut the mafia out, too easy to walk away and pretend that it hasn’t been the only thing he’s known for a long time, too easy to pretend No Longer Human doesn’t still sing its song of blood and misery. 

Dazai finds himself at Chuuya’s apartment. He tells himself he’s only here to tidy up loose ends, nothing more—after all, what is Chuuya but a loose end, the tangled threads of something Dazai hasn’t quite managed to control, not since he met him four years ago.

He manages to find his way in easily, the familiarity of picking Chuuya’s locks easy to slide back into. Chuuya’s apartment is dark and quiet, the dust settling as Dazai pushes the door open. He doesn’t quite know why he’s here, he doesn’t need to be, not for what he wants to do. A part of him knows the answer.

No Longer Human whispers in his ear. Dazai shuts it out.

Chuuya’s apartment is comforting in the way Dazai’s never was, the leather couch well worn, framed photographs on the walls, even his silly hat rack that Dazai threatened to trash when Chuuya wasn’t looking, sitting in the corner.

Chuuya! What’s this! My hat rack bought a hat rack? God, these hats are truly awful! What, did you steal them from some dead grandma or something?

Shut up! My hats are great, you just happen to have shit fashion sense. 

Why, I can’t have my partner walking around with these abominations! I guess I’ll just have to find some way to throw them away when a certain chibi isn’t looking!

You-! I’m going to beat you up, stinky mackerel!

Dazai makes his way into the bedroom. Chuuya’s awfully expensive satin sheets are covered in a layer of dust, evidence that he hasn’t been home for a long time. A roll of bandages sit on the bedside table, and Dazai knows he’ll find more in the drawers.

Chuuya had taken to buying them after Dazai’s flat out refusal to seek out Mori’s help meant they would stumble back into his flat after their missions. A framed photograph stands next to the bandages, a photograph that hadn’t been here the last time Dazai was here. Before Chuuya left for Europe.

Dazai picks it up, and it's a photograph of them. Something unfamiliar wells up in him, and Dazai suppresses it as quickly as it emerges. No Longer Human hums, quiet, contemplative, the slightest chill of a winter draft. 

Dazai and Chuuya are strolling along the pier. It’s a rare day when the both of them haven’t been assigned any missions, or have any mission reports to submit. The waters of Yokohama Bay are calm, sunlight shimmering across, reflecting the deep blue. Dazai hums his suicide song under his breath, increasing in volume until Chuuya snaps at Dazai. They start bickering, with Chuuya threatening to kick Dazai into the ocean. 

Dazai sees a photo booth that certainly hadn't been there the last time they were here, and he interrupts Chuuya’s angry (empty) threats by literally dragging Chuuya in.

“It’ll be fun! Stress relief, since your anger issues are clearly acting up again~”

“I do not have anger issues!”

“Yes you do! Look at you, yapping away like an angry little dog. Now sit!”

Dazai smiles winningly at Chuuya as he slides in the coins from Chuuya’s wallet that he had swiped while he wasn’t looking. Chuuya only growls at him before he sits down begrudgingly next to Dazai. The photo booth is cramped and their knees are touching. The screen lights up as Dazai presses the buttons, toggling through the different options. 

“Hey Chuuya, what about this?”

Dazai points to an obnoxious neon pink background peppered with love hearts.

“What the hell is that?!”

“Great! We’re using that then!”

Dazai grins as Chuuya’s face contorts in a myriad of emotions, mostly anger and annoyance.

“You-!”

“Chuuya! Remember to smile! Nobody wants to see your stupid grumpy face!”

Dazai presses another button, and the timer goes off, then the flash. Dazai’s smiling brightly in the first picture, teeth and all. Chuuya looks slightly disgruntled and not at all happy.

“Slug, do you not know how to smile? Can you at least try a little harder?”

Dazai whines, pouting at Chuuya. He pokes Chuuya in the ribs for good measure. 

“Fine! God, you’re so annoying!”

Dazai stares at the photograph, a collage of four images. The last shot shows Chuuya trying to reach for the hat Dazai had stolen off his head. Dazai had held it high above and Chuuya all but stepped on him in his attempt to get it back.

Dazai remembers complaining to Chuuya about him ‘ruining the photograph’ afterwards, remembers Chuuya kicking him, hard, in response.

He remembers editing the photograph in the photo booth before they printed it out, the both of them trying to make each other look as ridiculous as possible. Chuuya had drawn a moustache for Dazai, and something he claimed was a mackerel but looked more like a worm. (“What even is that?” “That’s a mackerel, you idiot!” “Chuuya, that literally looks nothing like a fish!” “Shut up! Not like you can do any better.”) Dazai had drawn a tiny hat on top of Chuuya’s already existing hat (“Look, you’re a hat stack!” “Dazai I swear-”) , and a slug on Chuuya’s shoulder.

Dazai had thrust the picture to Chuuya afterwards, claiming that Chuuya had to keep it since he was the one who had paid for it. (“Which asshole stole my wallet for that again?” “It was borrowing, not stealing!” “Yeah right!”)

Chuuya had declared that he was going to burn it. (“It’s literally so stupid!” “Chibi, don’t say that, you’re hurting my feelings!”)

Dazai didn’t think Chuuya had kept it, didn’t think he would have framed it and placed it by his bedside. 

No Longer Human swells in him, a wave of unfamiliar emotion that he’s not equipped to deal with rushing to shore and crashing down.

Oh Chuuya, so sentimental. So human. 

Dazai knows now with decided clarity that what he’s about to do will be a small mercy for them both. 

Chuuya is coming back soon. He doesn’t have much time left. 

When Dazai leaves, he knows with certainty that Chuuya will watch his car explode in a burst of flames in front of his eyes, knows that Chuuya will see that and know exactly who the culprit was, knows that Chuuya will hate him with the same burning intensity of Arahabaki’s wrath.

Dazai tells himself he’s doing this for himself—better for him to sever all ties to the mafia, even to his dog. Better for him to cut whatever horrible, miserable, attachments he might have to this life—he won’t need it, not where he’s going now.

It’s not because he wants to protect Chuuya from Mori’s inevitable anger at having lost his most valuable plaything, not because Chuuya is better off hating a traitor than harbouring whatever twisted sense of loyalty he thinks he has to Dazai, not because Chuuya, beautiful, human, Chuuya, has always deserved better than whatever Dazai had been to him.

Dazai leaves, and doesn’t look back.

Their relationship burns fast and burns bright, the vivid red of a car on fire and dark plumes of smoke against the quiet night sky the only closure either of them are allowed to have. 

If Dazai were a better person, a better partner, he would have said goodbye, would have said sorry.

Unfortunately for Chuuya, Dazai is not. 

–

Dazai’s personal phone starts ringing with notifications that night. Only two people know the number to this phone, and he doubts it's Mori calling. First, it’s the calls, the ringing driving No Longer Human crazy, screaming and thrashing around in his head.

Dazai contemplates picking up just to tell Chuuya to stop trying. It’s not like he can make him come back.

Next, his phone pings with text notifications, one after another. Dazai wonders if he should just block him. Clean cut, remember?

Somehow, he can’t bring himself to do it, even if it's just a simple click of a button. 

He makes the mistake of opening one of the many voicemails Chuuya’s left once. Chuuya’s voice echoes true and clear in his empty room, and for a moment Dazai feels a flicker of the warmth that is Chuuya.

Mackerel, what did you do?

Chuuya’s words are slurred, and Dazai knows immediately that he’s drunk, knows exactly where this is going, yet he doesn’t move to switch it off.

Boss said you left. You wouldn’t. Not in a million years. Not you too-

His words cut off with a laugh, and it's slightly unhinged, slightly hysterical.

Screw that. You would. It’s what a slimy bastard like you would do. Should have known you were a traitor. Just like your filthy friend Sakaguchi. 

I can’t believe you actually did it.

I can’t believe you left me behind. 

More laughter, and even through the tinny sound of the phone, Dazai can tell that Chuuya is close to tears.

Blew up my car even! That’s low, even for you. I hate you, you know that. I hate you. I hate you so much. I hate you!

A deep breath, and the next part is whispered, the words exhaled in a breath, as though forced out of him.

Dazai, come back. Please. I’m sorry. I can’t- Please. 

The phone beeps, the automated voice asking Dazai if he wants to replay the message. Dazai takes the phone and throws it to the furthest end of the room. He doesn’t pick it up again.

Dazai’s chest burns. It hurts, and he wants to pluck his heart out of his chest if it meant he could stop hurting.

No Longer Human screams, wordless, painless.

–

Dazai is told to lie low for two years before he can join the Armed Detective Agency. Before he can start fulfilling Odasaku’s last wish.

They’re the worst years of his life, he thinks.

Dazai is left alone with nothing but No Longer Human for company. It’s been such a long time since Dazai had to weather its cold without anyone by his side, he had almost forgotten how unforgiving its bite was. 

It’s a particularly bad day for Dazai. No Longer Human is especially loud, whistling through his ears, running and twisting through him, sinking its teeth into his bones. Dazai’s holding a razor, the blade already well acquainted with his skin. Anything to make No Longer Human shut up, if only for a second.

It doesn’t work. No Longer Human screeches even louder, enduring, everlasting. Dazai burns with the need to peel his own skin off, to reach into the cavity of his chest and pull No Longer Human out from between his ribs. Anything to excise it from his body.

His gun weighs heavy in his pocket. He hasn’t touched it since he left the mafia. It would be so easy, he thinks. Place the gun in his mouth, feel the barrel against the roof of his mouth. Pull the trigger. He can almost imagine the blood splatter, the remnants of his brain painting a vibrant, sickening red on the walls.

He’s so close. The steel of the gun is cold in his hand. He can see the way his hands tremble slightly, fingers closing around the trigger. He tries to stop the shuddering of his breath with each inhale, squeezes his eyes shut.

A hushed whisper, so soft he barely catches it.

Please.

Dazai opens his eyes, and for a moment he forgets how to breathe. Odasaku is standing in front of him, eyes pleading. 

It’s not real, Dazai knows it. Odasaku is long dead. But he is right there, and Dazai is so tired. He feels like crying. What a cruel trick his mind is playing on him.

Odasaku, please. I can’t. I’m sorry, I tried, I really did. But-

Odasaku touches his cheek, gently, tenderly, and it feels so real. He smiles at Dazai, expression understanding and- 

It’s okay. Dazai, it’s okay.

Odasaku brings Dazai close, resting his head in the curve of his neck. Dazai inhales—the comfort something he’s missed so sorely it aches in the hollow of his bones.

Dazai feels like a child again, vulnerable and afraid. Loved.

I’m here. It’s okay.

It’s not fair, none of this is. Dazai would do anything to get his Odasaku back.

He drops the gun in his hand.

The faintest ghost of lips on his forehead, and when Dazai opens his eyes, he is alone again.

–

The bright lit office of the Armed Detective Agency is a stark contrast to the dim hallways of the Port Mafia. In more ways than one, Dazai feels out of place, like he doesn’t quite belong.

He slides on a mask, smiling and laughing, making a fool of himself in front of the agency members. He can tell that they buy the act, even though sometimes Ranpo looks at him a little too long, his stare a little too weighted. Like he knows.

It’s a far cry from who he was in the mafia, yet somehow it’s all the same. 

Over time, he stops instinctually looking behind his shoulder for the familiar shadow of a doctor. He knows he won’t see it anymore, not here.

Dazai is assigned a partner. He’s uptight, and gets angry whenever his perfectly aligned schedule is slightly disrupted, making him the perfect person to rile up. It’s so easy to slide back into the habits of teasing his partner, knowing exactly which buttons to push to get that particular reaction, that sometimes when he looks over he almost expects to see-

He hasn’t seen him in 4 years. Hasn’t heard anything about him, from him, not since Dazai’s ignored all his attempts to contact him. After a while, the calls and messages just… stopped. Like he’s moved on too.

It hurts to think about, sometimes. No Longer Human will constrict and Dazai will feel this strange, funny feeling in his chest, like something’s trying to claw its way out of his heart, out of his throat.

Dazai brushes it away every time. It’s not like it matters, not anymore. He’s not sure if it ever did.

–

The appearance of the weretiger complicates things. Dazai knows that there’s information out there he’s not privy to, knows that there’s more to this than meets the eye. He knows he has to get into the mafia to seek out his desired information, knows exactly what the easiest way to do so is. That doesn’t make him feel much better.

The mafia brings up people, memories, he would rather leave buried. 

Dazai senses Chuuya’s presence before he actually sees him. He thinks he would know him anywhere. Chuuya appears, and it’s like the past four years haven’t passed.

Dazai’s breath stutters in his chest. Chuuya’s just as beautiful as he was four years ago. His hair is longer now, amber fire Dazai wishes he could thread his fingers through. He’s outgrown his chubby cheeks from his childhood, his body now grown into strong, smooth muscle. 

Dazai sees the stress lines along his forehead, the bags under his eyes, the way his posture is stiff and guarded even as he acts confident and cocky. Sees the way Chuuya’s eyes seem to carry a burden Dazai can’t see, the brilliant blue now mellowed out into something plainer. Something akin to worry slips under his skin. He immediately ignores it.

Despite it all, Dazai burns with want. 

It’s far too easy to slip back into their banter, to pretend that the past four years didn’t happen, to pretend that Dazai didn’t just leave him without a word.

Chuuya has changed. It’s not unexpected; after all, it has been a long time. But there’s a line of tension in his shoulders Dazai doesn’t even think he’s aware of, and Chuuya’s terse with him, an invisible wall that Dazai can’t climb between them. 

Chuuya grabs Dazai’s hair and pulls him close, close enough for Dazai to see the smattering of freckles on his cheeks, close enough to see the graceful sweep of his eyelashes and the smooth curve of his lips. No Longer Human sings, the joyous thrill of a songbird.

He stares at him, his gaze piercing. For the first time, Dazai doesn’t know what he’s thinking. 

Chuuya releases Dazai, as though he’s found him lacking. Dazai still doesn’t know what he was looking for.

He kicks Dazai, hard, and they fall back into their old rhythm of punch, dodge, kick, parry. Chuuya still fights the same way, in the same, predictable pattern of their past strategies. Still, he’s stronger now, faster, and Dazai isn’t able to avoid getting hit altogether. 

It doesn’t matter, because later Dazai still manages to wring the information about the weretiger’s bounty from Chuuya. When he realises he’s been manipulated, Chuuya’s face twists into something bitter, before it disappears all too quickly, masked by an unreadable expression. 

Dazai frowns. He isn’t used to not being able to read people, and especially not Chuuya.

When he leaves, it doesn’t feel like a victory.

–

Dazai knows it’s inevitable that their paths will cross again. After all, their lives are intertwined, bound by something even he can’t understand. 

He’s conflicted, a myriad of emotions that he’s never had the capacity to understand tugging at him—No Longer Human’s desire to consume Chuuya warring with the knowledge that Dazai can’t have Chuuya, that he gave up his chance four years ago.

He hates it, wishes he could cleanly excise Chuuya from his soul, wishes that he could just stop feeling like his lungs are on fire and he’s burning, burning, until all that’s left is a pile of ash.

–

They meet again when the agency and the mafia come together to defeat the Guild. It’s only a single night, and they’re only doing this since they have a common goal and it’s easier that way, but the thought of their partnership, however momentary, rekindles something in Dazai. 

Chuuya’s fighting remains a sight to behold; he’s all elegance and nimbleness even in something normally violent and clunky, the graceful movements of a dancer and the fluidity of an ocean wave. He defeats the Guild soldiers with ease and it’s over all too soon.

No Longer Human sighs, lamenting not having the chance to watch, if even just for a moment more.

It’s far too easy to fall back into the pattern of slinging casual insults they both know the other doesn’t really mean, and it’s… almost nice, if not all too familiar, too reminiscent of what they had been—memories that almost hurt to think about.

They’re making their way out with Q when Chuuya is grabbed by a tentacle and flung towards the building. The Guild member stares at Dazai with blank, hollow eyes. Chuuya smirks and launches himself at him.

After a while, it’s clear that Chuuya’s unable to hit him where it matters, and more concerningly, No Longer Human doesn’t seem to work on him. Dazai can feel its frustration building as it seeks out something, anything, to consume, only to fall short. 

The monster grabs Dazai and throws him at a tree. He winces on impact. Chuuya rushes over, and his eyes are wide with concern, worry clear as day on his face. Something stirs in Dazai, something gentle and warm and lovely. Something he’s come to associate with Chuuya. He pushes it down as he slides a smile on his face.

“We should just give up and die!”

“What? You can’t die here!”

Dazai laughs. Chuuya really is so easy to fool. 

“I’m joking, I'm joking! Man, you’re so uptight.”

Chuuya glares at Dazai. “Why not you spend less time making stupid jokes and figure out how to deal with that… that thing there! Seriously, what even is that?”

“No clue! Maybe we should really just give up!” Dazai smiles winningly at Chuuya. He glares back, not at all amused.

“We only have one tactic left.” Dazai looks at Chuuya, knows he’ll know exactly what Dazai is talking about in the same way Chuuya understands every working of his mind and every inch of his skin.

“When you say it like that, I don’t really have much of a choice.” Chuuya looks down, his expression unreadable.

Dazai wouldn’t be surprised if he said no. He’s long lost the right to ask Chuuya to trust him.

He’s wrong about one thing though. Chuuya’s always had a choice. It’s the one thing Dazai refuses to deny him.

Chuuya looks up, and starts walking towards the monster. It seems that he’s decided.

No Longer Human trembles in excitement, the fluttering of butterfly wings taking flight. Dazai feels sick.

Chuuya hesitates, his steps faltering. Dazai thinks he’s changed his mind, when he pulls his gloves off, whispering the words into the still night. Dazai can see the way he’s shaking. No Longer Human thrums with anticipation.

A moment of unnatural quiet, before the wind picks up, and Dazai can feel the growing pressure of gravity. Arahabaki claws its way up Chuuya’s skin, the blood red creeping up his arms, his neck, his face as he’s possessed by the god. He shoots up into the air, and even from far Dazai can see that his pupils are constricted, the alluring blue all but gone.

Chuuya shoots gravitons at the monster and laughs. His power is unmatched, a mere glimpse of godhood in the mortal realm. It’s fascinating. Dazai stares at him, enthralled. It’s been a long time since he’s witnessed such raw strength.

He’s breathtaking, and not for the first time Dazai wonders how it would feel to die by his hand. By Arahabaki’s hand. No Longer Human screams, desperate for a taste of its power.

Despite Chuuya’s relentless attacks, the monster looks nowhere close to defeat, and Dazai knows his time is running out. He sees the other Guild rat and springs him, holding Chuuya’s knife to his neck. It’s laughably easy to goad him into telling him what he needs to know, and Dazai smiles as he detonates the bomb. 

At the same time, Chuuya launches a graviton at the epicentre of the impending explosion. 

When the dust settles, Chuuya’s standing alone. His movements are shaky and uncontrolled as he stumbles towards Dazai. He tilts his head back, and the laugh that comes out is Arahabaki’s—grating, painful. Chuuya stares at him with blood red pupils, raising his arm for another attack.

Dazai runs forward, closing his fingers around Chuuya’s wrist. He tries not to think too hard about how his wrist is warm and slick.

No Longer Human lunges forward so forcefully Dazai almost loses his balance, gleefully consuming Arahbaki’s power. It sighs, contented, satiated, a quiet hum.

“Rest now, Chuuya. The enemy is no more.”

Chuuya collapses on the ground, his legs no longer holding him up now that Arahabaki is gone. He turns his head to look at Dazai, who’s kneeling beside him, hand still holding on to his wrist. 

“You… Bastard, you better bring me back to the extraction point.” He punches Dazai in the arm weakly as he glares at Dazai with whatever strength he has left. Dazai smiles.

“You got it, partner.”

Chuuya falls unconscious to the floor. Dazai sighs, shaking his head. “Silly chibi, he’s really such a brute. Not even a thank you for my efforts!”

He looks at Chuuya. Chuuya’s covered in blood, blood that’s now already drying and crusting up. “Chuuya is so high maintenance, he definitely won’t stop whining if I let him wake up covered in blood!” Of course, he doesn’t get a reply.

Dazai takes out a towel he’s prepared (just in case, he had told himself), and starts wiping down Chuuya’s body, taking care to remove the blood without disturbing his wounds. When he gets to Chuuya’s face, he pauses.

He’s beautiful even like this, pale skin and high cheekbones and smooth pink lips. Dazai catches himself staring a little too long and shakes himself out of his reverie, before he continues cleaning the blood off his face with gentle touches. Almost too gentle. 

He can see the remnants of Arahabaki’s hold on Chuuya’s skin. Dazai resists the urge to reach out and trace his scars, evidence of destruction withheld in a fragile body.

Dazai starts searching for Chuuya’s coat and hat when he’s done. He tells himself it’s only because Chuuya would never stop annoying him about it later. (Might as well make yourself useful after I did all the work! I like my clothes, you know. Seeing that I actually have a fashion sense, and actually spent time picking my clothes out. Unlike you.) Dazai thinks his attachment to his clothing is ludicrous, especially since he has more than enough money to buy them tenfold. 

He folds the coat neatly and places it next to Chuuya. He stares at Chuuya’s hat, before brushing the dust off and putting it on top. He’s never been able to understand Chuuya’s obsession with his dingy little hat, which in his opinion, is horrifyingly ugly. Chuuya had thrown a knife at Dazai the last time he told him that, and Dazai hadn’t stopped whining about how Chuuya had ‘almost killed him’ to everyone in sight for a full day. 

Dazai grins, pleased with his handiwork. His chibi will be so pleased with him.

He’s about to walk away when he crouches next to Chuuya and looks at him, truly looks at him, the slow up and down of his chest, the shattered glass pane of his skin, the brilliant russet red of his hair. Chuuya has always been beautiful, even when under Arahabaki’s thrall. Dazai leans down and tucks a stray strand of hair behind Chuuya’s ear.

“I missed this, Chuuya. I really did.”

Just for a brief moment, Dazai considers staying. Confronted by Chuuya’s presence, his desire burns impossibly bright, and he wants to, so badly. Emotions he can’t place swell in him, a crescendo he’s not equipped to deal with, a reality he doesn’t wish to confront. No Longer Human squeezes around the hollow of his heart, an ache so sore it reminds him of something else, someone else. 

Dazai also knows that if he stays, he’ll never be able to leave again. And Chuuya, beautiful, loyal, Chuuya, deserves so much more than that.

He thumbs Chuuya’s cheek, a soft, tender thing. It’s all he allows himself.

Dazai stands and leaves. As always, he doesn’t look back.

– 

That night, his phone pings with a notification. There’s a single text message.

Bastard.

Dazai smiles and sends a message back.

You’re welcome~

No Longer Human curls around his bones, warm, comforting, reminiscent of a better time.

–

Shibusawa’s appearance in Yokohama is a concerning one. This means Dazai has to get personally involved, has to pretend to work with Shibusawa and Dostoyevsky while they try to destroy his home. 

The very thought irks him—looking at Dostoyevsky is eerily like looking into a mirror. It makes his skin crawl. No Longer Human doesn’t like him much either, going icy cold and unusually subdued in his presence.

He knows the Russian rat has his own ulterior motives, his own endgame to set into place, knows that he knows Dazai isn’t here to help Shibusawa. Still, they dance, a waltz of death. In a way, they’re just waiting to see who betrays the other first. Waiting to see who makes a wrong move first. 

Dazai slips a pill under his tongue and enters the lion’s den. Dostoyevsky smiles, chilling, unnerving, his venomous fangs barely sheathed. He smiles back, a challenge in his eyes he knows the other can’t resist.

The game is on.

–

Dostoyevsky makes the first move, stabbing Dazai in the back with a poisoned knife. Dazai falls to the floor. The fact that he had seen this coming doesn’t negate the fact that it hurts, the point of entry burning like hellfire. No Longer Human screams in frustration at being bested.

Dazai’s vision swims in and out of focus as the poison works its way into his bloodstream. The next thing he sees is an arc of blood splattering next to him—he supposes Dostoyevsky has made his move against Shibusawa now that he’s no longer useful. Not that it’s much of a concern, seeing that he’s been dead for years. A whispered good game next to his ear in a voice so soft and slimy, and then all Dazai sees is black. 

–

There’s a man standing with his back turned. Dazai looks around. They’re in a white room, illuminated by bright white light. 

“Hello?”

Dazai calls out as he walks towards him. 

The man turns, and Dazai stumbles. His eyes are torn out of his sockets, the stringy muscles left behind trailing red, sticky blood down his face. He claws at them with bloodied fingers that have raw, exposed nail beds. His mouth is open in a soundless wail. Dazai can see the remnants of bloodied gums. 

“You! You did this! Look at me! You did this to me!”

The man lurches forward, wailing. Blood pours out of his sockets, as though he’s crying. He grabs Dazai and shakes him, crying wordlessly.

Dazai tries to push him off. 

“I don’t know who you are! I don’t- I didn’t do this. I didn’t!”

The man screams again, and suddenly it’s the voices of many others, overlapping and rippling across the room in an endless echo.

Dazai remembers.

The mafia has a signature brand of torture, one Dazai is well versed in. He knows who this man is, who the voices belong to. 

The man opens his mouth to scream again, and-

Dazai opens his eyes. He’s alone in the same empty room. The man is gone, and in his place there is a mirror. 

He walks up to the mirror and looks at himself. It looks… normal.

He blinks, and his image is replaced by Mori’s. Mori smiles at him, sinister, cruel.

“Did you really think you could escape me? I let you run, Dazai-kun. As long as you are alive, you belong to me.”

Dazai stares in mute horror as Mori’s image leans forward.

“You are me, and I am you. I have made you in my image. I let you indulge in your detective ruse for long enough. It’s time to come home, where you belong.”

Dazai backs away. 

“I am not you! I am not. I am better than you. I’m trying to be good. You can’t make me go back, you can’t!”

He feels like a child again, scared and alone. Like a child arguing with his father even when he knows he’ll never win, not against the big, scary man.

“Odasaku made me want to become good. You can’t take that away from me!”

Mori laughs, and the sound sends chills down his spine.

“Did you really think you could become a good person? Your blood is mafia black. You can never outrun that.”

“Your Odasaku is dead. You have no one left. Come back to me. It’s what you deserve.”

Dazai can distantly hear Mori laughing again, mocking him. His head is splitting open, bright hot pain behind his eyes. He’s always been weak, too weak.

He smashes his fist into the mirror, shattering it. Mori’s image splinters and falls away, but his laughter still haunts him, an echo in the room and a constant in his head. 

–

A fist to his cheek, and the pill Dazai had put in place before slides down his throat. Dazai opens his eyes. No Longer Human glows bright white around him. Chuuya looks down at him, fist outstretched. He’s still under Arahabaki’s trance, pupils crimson red and unfocussed.

Dazai brushes his fingers against his skin and cups his cheek gently, watching as No Longer Human leaps forward to consume Arahabaki. Chuuya is wonderfully warm under his touch, all too reminiscent of a warm hug and a bright summer day. The marks on Chuuya’s face fade into a pale pink, and his pupils dilate, returning to their brilliant blue. 

Chuuya’s looking at him, and suddenly Dazai feels breathless as though he’s the one who fought the dragon. A wave of longing swells in him as he holds Chuuya’s gaze, heavy with a myriad of emotions. The ocean blue of his eyes are impossibly tender, shining with concern and relief and something else Dazai can’t place, and he’s smiling, the slightest quirk of his lips that he’s trying to hide with annoyance. 

Chuuya is looking at him like he- 

Dazai smiles at Chuuya, a small, amused thing. 

“You used Corruption believing in me? How beautiful.”

Chuuya laughs, before it breaks off into a hacking cough.

“Yeah, I did. I believed in your disgusting vitality and your craftiness.”

Dazai wants, wants to pull Chuuya in and hold him close, wants to carve his heart out and offer it to Chuuya, wants to say- 

“That was a rather violent way of waking Snow White, don’t you think?”

Chuuya snorts, but before he can say anything, the bubble pops, and they fall to the ground.

The fog is thick around them, robbing them of any visibility. Dazai winces, the knife in his back uncomfortably sore. The bleeding is sluggish now, the stickiness only slightly more than an inconvenience. 

Chuuya’s face is in Dazai’s lap. Dazai has his fingers entangled in his hair, soft and smooth and something he’s longed to touch since the day they met again. Chuuya tries to push himself up and away from Dazai, but Dazai uses his hand to push his head down into his lap again.

“What do you think you’re doing? Mackerel, let me get up.”

Dazai runs his fingers through Chuuya’s hair.

“The fog hasn’t cleared yet. It makes people fight their own abilities, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to do that, not in this state. So just lie there like a good little dog!”

He’s lying. It’s unlikely Shibusawa’s fog will affect Arahabaki, seeing that it’s not really an ability. He knows Chuuya knows he’s probably not telling the truth. Still, Chuuya only raises his head slightly in protest, before he collapses, giving in to his exhaustion. 

Dazai gently turns Chuuya over and rests his head on his lap so he’s lying in a more comfortable position. He continues stroking his hair, looking at the spiderweb veins of his eyelids, the gentle fluttering of his eyelashes. 

Chuuya has always been impossibly beautiful, and Dazai wants so badly to gather Chuuya up and keep him locked in the deepest corner of his ribcage, so that he belongs to him and only him. He wishes he could just look at Chuuya forever, imprinting every tiny detail into his memory so that he’ll never lose him again—every tiny freckle across his cheeks, the small, faded scar on his neck, the way his hair curled particularly strangely at the base of his ear, the-

When Dazai is sure Chuuya is asleep, he stands up slowly, making sure not to wake him. He retrieves Chuuya’s hat and coat, and sets it by his side. 

Dazai looks at Chuuya again, ready to say a goodbye and a thank you his partner will never hear, but his gaze lingers just for a moment too long, and his resolve wavers. 

No Longer Human burns bright with desire, a tidal wave of wistful longing and an ache so deep that for once, Dazai gives in. Gently, tenderly, he traces the line of freckles on Chuuya’s face, his fingertips ghosting across his skin, across the apples of his cheeks, the curve of his brow bone. 

“You know, Chuuya, you’re really such a bother.”

Dazai slides Chuuya onto his back, bending down to pick up his hat and coat.

“How can such a small person be so heavy? Seriously, you haven’t grown since you were fifteen but you’ve gotten so much heavier! You should be grateful I’m even doing this for you, and not just dumping your ass on Akutagawa.”

The only response he gets is quiet snoring.

–

Chuuya’s apartment is exactly the same as he had remembered, down to the leather couch that’s now more worn down, and the stupid hat rack that somehow has even more hats, each uglier than the last. The photographs on the walls have multiplied, and Dazai notices that pictures of them together are now few and far between, replaced by pictures of Chuuya and his friends in the mafia, people that Dazai don’t even recognise. 

Dazai lays a sleeping Chuuya gently on his bed, taking care to make sure the pillows under him are fluffed properly and that he’s lying comfortably. It’s all too domestic, too caring, that Dazai almost considers bolting out the door and threatening Akutagawa into saying he’s the one who carried Chuuya home. 

His eyes fall on a photograph at Chuuya’s bedside. It’s the same picture of them at the photobooth those many years ago. Dazai thought Chuuya would have ripped it, burned it, gotten rid of it in one way or another, but still it stands untouched.

Looking at their own faces, a momentary snapshot of their happiness together, of a memory he’s tried so hard to forget but hasn’t, he doesn’t know what to think. 

They’ve been dancing around each other for years, a careful thing of back and forth, push and pull, their concern for the other only barely masked by annoyance and false hatred, that Dazai can’t even contemplate the scale tipping, doesn’t know what he’ll do, what he can do, then.

He’s never been good with human feelings, has never learnt how to deal with the intensity of his emotions where it concerns Chuuya. 

And Chuuya has always been the anomaly, hasn’t he? Something out of Dazai’s predictions, something he’s never been able to fully control. 

For once, Dazai isn't quite sure what he should do.

He sits by Chuuya’s bedside, and waits for him to awaken. 

–

Dazai doesn’t know how much time has passed when Chuuya opens his eyes. Dazai hands him a glass of water wordlessly, which he gulps down quickly. Chuuya squints at him, as though not believing he’s really there. He doesn’t say anything. 

Just when Dazai thinks Chuuya’s going to continue to stare at him in silence, he sits up with a groan. 

“Well, I certainly haven’t missed this. Arahabaki sucks. I feel like my head’s splitting open and my bones feel like they’re falling apart.”

Chuuya’s still staring at him, eyes a piercing blue. No Longer Human squirms under the intensity of his gaze. Dazai looks back at him, thinks about what he can say to stop Chuuya looking at him like that. Like he’s trying to perceive him.

“That’s because you’re so small! Of course your tiny little body’s going to be put under more stress. How is it even possible that you haven’t grown in 7 years? You’re really going to be microscopic forever…”

Dazai slides on a teasing smile. Chuuya just scowls at him.

He makes an attempt to stand, only for him to almost fall back onto the bed. Dazai slides over and loops his arm around Chuuya’s, smiling winningly at him.

“Wow, is chibi falling for me? How romantic! I’m afraid I have to decline though, I’m still looking for a beautiful woman to commit suicide with!”

Chuuya doesn’t bother responding to Dazai, silently holding onto Dazai as they hobble out of his bedroom and into the living room. 

Dazai frowns. Something seems off; Chuuya’s not rising to his bait like he normally does, and he’s acting more strangely than ever. He’s always reactive when Dazai purposely pushes his buttons to annoy him, even after Corruption. It’s how it’s always been, but today it’s all intense staring and awkward silence where Chuuya’s supposed to threaten to beat Dazai up for saying stupid things.

No Longer Human flutters nervously under his skin, an anxious tremor he can’t ignore.

Chuuya’s staring at him again. It’s unnerving. He doesn’t say anything. It’s as though he’s waiting for Dazai to do something, but he doesn’t know what—Chuuya’s veered off their usual script, and it’s left him off balance. For once, he doesn’t know what to do.

“Why are you here? You’ve done your job, you’ve stopped Corruption. You can leave now.”

Chuuya says this impassively. Dazai is confused, knows that Chuuya’s put a wall between them, a wall that he isn’t meant to be able to cross. He doesn’t know why. 

“Chuuya, I’m just doing my job as a good partner! I’m taking care of you, can’t you see that? Really, you should be thanking me!”

Dazai smiles, but it’s uncertain at best, and Chuuya knows it too. Dazai knows he does. 

“Seriously, Dazai, I’m not buying that. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not working. Not this time, not now. Get out of my house. I don’t want to see you.”

Chuuya’s well and truly angry, a displeased look on his face and anger colouring his voice. Dazai’s confused. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, doesn’t know what he needs to do to fix it. 

“Chuuya, I-”

He barely lets Dazai get a word in.

“Get out. You, of all people, don’t get to leave and then waltz back in like nothing’s changed. That’s not how it works.”

Dazai can only look on as Chuuya’s words trip over each other in quick succession, like his words have been bottled up in him and the dam is only now breaking, spilling over in a tsunami of resentment and hurt and anger.

“I’m sick and tired of always coming to your rescue like a good little dog. You left me! I shouldn’t even want to help you anymore. I should hate you. But I keep coming back to you, every single time, and I hate it. I hate being tied to you and I hate that I’ll always have this stupid loyalty to you when you were the one who left me. For God’s sake, you don’t even care about me!”

He’s practically shouting now. Dazai can see the faint halo of his ability around him. 

“Do us both a favour, Dazai, and leave. Just like you always do. It’s all you’re good for anyways!”

Chuuya couldn’t be more wrong about Dazai not caring about him. Dazai has always cared, even if he didn’t always know it himself. No Longer Human screams at Dazai’s inaction, screams at him to do something , to show Chuuya he’s wrong, he’s wrong, he’s- 

“I do care for you.”

The ocean blue of Chuuya’s eyes, intensified by his rage, stares at him. For a brief moment, Dazai sees confusion and something like hope flicker past his eyes, so quick he can barely be sure he saw it, before Chuuya’s gaze hardens again.

“Stop it. Stop lying. Stop trying to get into my head and stop trying to manipulate me. I’m sick and tired of being treated like a pawn to further your own agenda. I’m not who I was 7 years ago. Go find someone else to toy with.”

“Chuuya, it’s not like that. I swear. Not this time. I’m not, I promise.”

Chuuya doesn’t get it. It’s not like that, it’s never been like that. Chuuya is different. He’s special. Dazai doesn’t know how to make Chuuya understand, doesn’t know how to fix this. It’s all too reminiscent of their last fight before- before he left, before he ruined everything. 

He doesn’t want to lose Chuuya, not again. He can’t.

“Enlighten me then. What is it like this time?”

“I-”

Chuuya's looking at him like that, bright blue boring into his soul, and Dazai is rendered helpless by sheer want. No Longer Human screams, trying to claw its way out of him. Dazai feels like he’s burning up under the sheer brilliance of his desire; his chest aches with the need for his words to spill over, out of his heart, out of his throat and into his hands for him to offer to Chuuya as penance, for him to beg Chuuya for forgiveness. 

“I love you. I just- I didn’t realise it, and then I left. And then-”

The words fall out of Dazai’s mouth.

Chuuya’s eyes widen just a fraction, shock (and perhaps even the same hope from before rekindled) shining through. Dazai feels like he’s been held in place, feels like he can’t quite breathe. 

“Hold up. What do you mean you love me? That’s not possible, it’s just not. You’re joking.”

The both of them know it’s not a joke. Dazai stares at Chuuya unblinking, trying to devise a way out of this mess he hadn’t intended to create. He also knows it’s too late now—he can’t take his words back. No Longer Human goes quiet.

Dazai knows there’s no conceivable way out of this. Chuuya stares at him expectantly, and when Dazai opens his mouth again the words spill out of their own accord, exhaled in a breath he’s been holding in for years.

“Of course I loved you. Everyone in the mafia loved you. It was inevitable that I would too. God, Chuuya, you were so beautiful. You were the one good thing in the mafia that I could cling on to. The mafia was so dark and dreary before you. Everything was meaningless. But then you came along, and you were so warm and so bright, and I wanted you to be mine so badly.”

The words pour out of Dazai, a wave of years of desire and longing he had tried so hard to suppress rushing forward all at once.

“I wanted you too much, and it scared me. Everything I’ve always wanted has been lost to me the moment I pursued it, and I was so afraid of losing you. So I did what I thought was best, and tried to push you away. You were so good, so human, but I was just… me. You have always deserved so much better, but still, I wanted to be yours in the same way I wanted you to be mine.”

Chuuya has always made him feel too much, too fast, and Dazai doesn’t know what to do, rendered powerless under the intensity that he has come to associate with Chuuya. 

“I’m not sorry for leaving the mafia. I’m never going back, and I would do it again in a heartbeat if I had to. But I’m sorry, Chuuya, for leaving you. For not telling you, for abandoning you. For being a bad person and a worse partner. I’m sorry.”

The words he’s wanted to say to Chuuya since four years ago are torn out of him, his heart ripped out and put on display. Dazai can’t bear to look at Chuuya anymore, afraid of what he will see if he does.

“I don’t care if you don’t love me back. I don’t care if you still hate me after this, if you never want to see me again. I had to let you know. I do care for you, Chuuya. I always have. I’m sorry I haven’t shown it in a way you deserve. I’m sorry for all the hurt I caused you. I’m sorry for being a bad partner. Chuuya, I-”

Chuuya cups his cheek so gently, Dazai melts into his touch. He tilts Dazai’s head towards him.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, Dazai. Don’t cry.”

Dazai can feel the wetness on his cheek as Chuuya glides his fingers across Dazai’s face. He hadn’t even realised he had started crying.

Dazai looks at Chuuya. He’s smiling, a soft, tender thing. He thumbs Dazai’s cheek gingerly, his palm smooth and impossibly warm against his skin.

“You may be the biggest asshole I know, and you may have broken my heart, and you may be the absolute worst partner ever, but I love you too.”

Dazai feels like he can’t quite breathe. He thinks he’s misheard, but Chuuya is right there, smiling at him, with a look of what can only be described as-

Chuuya must see something on his face, because he laughs, a delightfully bright sound that Dazai has missed so badly. 

“Bad taste, I know. Tell me about it.”

Not for the first time, Dazai doesn’t know what to say. 

“But- I’m insufferable. All I talk about is double suicide with a pretty lady.”

“I know. Nothing’s changed since you were 15.”

“And I flirt with random ladies and I only eat canned crab and-”

Chuuya smiles at Dazai. His eyes are incredibly fond, the bluest skies of a cloudless day.

“I know that, you idiot. What are you even trying to do?”

Chuuya doesn’t get it, and Dazai doesn’t know how to make him understand. No Longer Human is frustrated too, squeezing uncomfortably tight around him.

“What if I break your heart again? I’m not a good person, Chuuya. All I know how to do is use people and hurt them. I don’t know what to do with good things.”

I don’t want to hurt you again goes unspoken.

Chuuya looks down, and for a second Dazai thinks he’s going to take it all back, say it was a huge mistake, and that he never wants to see him again. The thought gives him this funny feeling in his chest that he hates, like something’s wormed under his ribs and the only way to get rid of it is to pry his skeleton apart piece by piece.

Chuuya takes Dazai’s hand in his. Something warm blossoms and blooms in Dazai. When Chuuya looks at him again, his eyes are gentle with an emotion Dazai can’t pinpoint.

“Dazai, stop. I love you. Despite everything, I do. I know it’s not going to be easy.”

Chuuya laughs. 

“When has anything ever been easy with you anyways? It doesn’t matter, Dazai. As long as you’re willing, I’m willing to make it work. We’ll work through it, together. That’s what partners are for, right? So please, give yourself a chance. Give us a chance.”

Chuuya looks at Dazai, pleading, and Dazai can’t say anything. He’s looking at him like that, and Dazai just-

Chuuya circles his arms around Dazai’s neck, bringing his face closer to him. He tiptoes and leans in. Up close, Dazai can see his freckles, scattered like stars around his face, his eyes, the deepest sapphire blue, the gentle curve of his lips and the sweep of his eyelashes.

“This is your chance to back out.”

Dazai whispers this quietly into the air between them, half teasing. 

Chuuya smiles, impossibly gentle, and closes the gap.

When Chuuya’s lips land on Dazai’s, soft and tender, he melts into the embrace, warmth swelling in him, the sunshine on a beautiful summer’s day and the embers of a fire in the midst of winter. Dazai moves to cup Chuuya’s cheeks and pull him even closer, his fingers entangling in his soft locks of hair.

When they break apart, Chuuya’s eyes are shining especially bright, reminiscent of Yokohama’s waters on a bright day, his cheeks blushed a light pink, his lips kissed red. Dazai runs his fingers through his hair that seems to burn brighter than ever, and Chuuya smiles at him with what he now knows is love. 

Dazai thinks to himself, my Chuuya is endlessly beautiful.

–

Later, when Chuuya’s leaning his head on Dazai’s chest and tracing lazy shapes on him with his finger, Dazai can’t help but tease him. He turns to look at Chuuya.

“Looks like Chuuya fell for my manly charms~”

Chuuya tilts his head up to look at Dazai and snorts.

“Yeah right. I wasn’t the one who harboured a crush, for what, 7 years? And was too emotionally stunted to act on it. And I don’t recall blowing up said crush’s car because I didn’t know how to confess like a normal person.”

Dazai pouts at Chuuya, which he promptly kicks Dazai for. 

“Hey! That’s so rude. You didn’t do anything about your crush either!”

Chuuya sees the false indignation on Dazai’s face and laughs.

“I guess we’re both idiots then.”

“I guess we are.”

Dazai smiles at Chuuya. No Longer Human purrs around the confines of his ribcage, mellowed out by the warmth that is Chuuya.

He cups Chuuya’s face, looking at him for a moment longer before he leans in. 

When they kiss, it feels like coming home.