赤 - RED.

𝟏𝟖

us

Nakahara Chuuya didn't know what to do. Dazai Osamu was resting just besides him, dark lashes laying against his cheeks, casting small shadows on his face in the dim light of the room. There was hair hanging on his face too, his mouth slightly open, the bottom lip rolled into a slight pout. He had his head on his chest and his arm around his waist, but that wasn't the problem, he actually enjoyed the younger's company. But it was that feeling of hopelessness spreading on his chest as the brunet cried in his sleep and clenched his beautiful slender hands on the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer. It was the way the other looked worse every time he sees him, with bags under his eyes, looking slimmer every time and the sparkle in his eyes wasn't even there anymore.

And he tried to help him countless of times, but it just seemed as if the younger didn't know how to take his hand and it was killing him. "Just take it," he wanted to say, "I'll help you," but every time that phrase came out of anyone's mouth Dazai would stiff and brush it off with a smile. "I don't need help," and that sentence alone was driving Chuuya crazy. He was scared that maybe there won't be a next time to see the brunet, he was so scared to loose his friend again, because he had already done it once when this Oda Sakunosuke died.

He understood, he really, really did. So why can't the brunet just open up to him and let him help? Was it because it was him? Chuuya couldn't help himself as he slipped his hand up the mattress, pulling it from beneath the blanket and reaching up to roll his thumb over Dazai's cheekbone.

Dazai, who apparently was looking at him for a while, brushed his hair and smiled fondly at him. "You're crying..." He said, his voice soft like a whisper and Chuuya cringed, was he? "Is everything ok?" The younger asked again, his head resting on the red-haired's chest again and making small circles in his arm, the latter trembled. "It is. I am fine." And he knew he didn't sound convincing at all, but at least the brunet stopped asking. He moved sideways a little, hugging Dazai and stroking his hair again. "Go back to sleep." He whispered too and suddenly Dazai sat up, startling him. "Let's go out!" He said with a smile and Chuuya sighed. At least he's better now, or so it seems. He got up with a smile too and opened Dazai's closet.

"Borrow me some clothes." Osamu cackled and Chuuya looked at him with a frown. "You're small," muttered the brunet and Chuuya was now offended, kicking him in the side.

-

They spent their whole day walking through the suburbs, holding their hands in a soft somewhat loose grip, warm wind embracing their bodies as they got closer to the beach. They sat a bench nearby, just enjoying each other's company and the sound of the waves. It was a little late, the pinks, blues and oranges already painting the sky.

Nakahara wanted to stop feeling anxious and just be besides Dazai, but his mind wouldn't stop bothering him. He let go of Dazai's hand, taking his own in a tight grip, his knuckles going white. Osamu looked at him, wondering if he should ask about it, maybe it had something to do with why he was crying earlier, but he knew how it felt when someone asked something you didn't want to hear and he didn't want to make the red-haired upset. Not right now.

He sighed and took Chuuya's head with his hand, pulling him closer. The red-haired flinched and looked startled at him but Dazai did not care. He pulled him to his shoulder and left his head there, putting his own above the elder's. The latter opened his mouth to say something, to complain about the sudden action, but when the brunet started to stroke his hair he just snuggled closer.

"Ah, Chuu~ Don't you think it's a wonderful day?" His tone bubbly as usual. "It is." He breathed out, putting his hand on the younger's thigh, the latter putting his own on top of it.

-

They arrived to Dazai's house at night, his apartment was dark and Chuuya had to hold onto the wall to keep from tripping. Dazai chuckled and picked him up, carrying him over his shoulder and taking him to the couch, plopping at his side.

"You know," Dazai started, looking at those glimmering blue eyes, "I missed you." Nakahara looked back at him, evident confusion in his eyes. "What do you mean? I've always been here." The brunet giggled and shook his head. "Not like that. Just you and me, I mean." And Chuuya beamed. Maybe he didn't have to worry so much.

He scooted closer to the brunet, passing a leg to the other side of his legs and sitting on his lap, resting his head in Dazai's chest. Osamu's right hand immediately went to the elder's hair and the other one to the lower part of his back and then rested on his hips. Nakahara looked up at him tenderly, his hand going up to his cheeks, caressing them, then to his hair and then to his neck, pulling him closer.

Dazai almost jumped when Chuuya's soft lips rested on his, kissing him gently. And his heart throbbed when their lips met again and again. He was overwhelmed, wanting to cry and laugh at the same time, a shiver running down his spine when the red-haired's fingertips ran over his arm. And, when they parted and Chuuya just smiled at him, he couldn't help but smile genuinely too.