Before Us | Dazai X Chuuya

Three • Painted Pictures

Another time, only a week or two after another argument of theirs. Dazai came stumbling into his room. At first, Chuuya thought it was Dazai's average antics, nothing new, and either way, he liked it when Dazai came over. They were seventeen at the time, and Chuuya was about to welcome the other with open arms until—

"Hey, Chuuya!" Dazai stumbles his way into Chuuya's arms before he can do it himself. "Give me your gun, or whatever you normally use," he laughs, trying to reach behind Chuuya so he can get to the nightstands drawer—somehow accurately guessing that some of Chuuya's weapons are in there.

Dazai's pupils are dilated, and Chuuya tries pulling his arms back. "What are you gonna do? I'm not giving you anything when you're like this," he tells Dazai, holding onto his wrists. "I'm gonna dance with it," Dazai replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He rolls his eyes, "Obviously I'm gonna put it to my head. Chuuya, you should know this."

"I—" Chuuya stutters, holding onto the other's wrists with more force so he can't reach behind him. "What the fuck did you take?" Dazai doesn't look at him, his face moves to Chuuya's neck, and he suddenly starts pressing open-mouthed kisses—trust him, Chuuya normally likes this sort of thing, but not when Dazai is seemingly out of his mind. He grabs Dazai's face, making him meet him eye-to-eye.

"Dazai," Chuuya firmly says, and he finally grabs his attention, and Dazai pouts at him because he thought it was Chuuya telling him to kiss him on the lips. "What did you do?" Dazai shrugs, taking something out his pocket to show Chuuya, "I don't know, the guy on the street called them 'happy pills', I thought they might help—and oh, I feel great. Do people normally feel like this?" he asks, voice intrigued and filled with excitement. "Dazai, those aren't—" Chuuya lets go of one of Dazai's hands, bringing it up so he can pinch the bridge of his nose.

He drags Dazai with him to the bed. "You're staying here until that thing you took wears off," Chuuya says. "And what if I leave?" the other asks. Chuuya ends up taking a pair of handcuffs and putting them around Dazai's hand and the headboard on the bed. "Kinky," Dazai casually whispers.

Neither one of them slept that night—Chuuya was too worried that Dazai might slip out somehow, and Dazai kept laughing the entire time, saying that it felt great to be happy.

The next morning, Chuuya gets up first. Seeing that Dazai is finally asleep, he starts making breakfast for the two of them—even though Dazai doesn't eat much, he still tries to get him to eat an okay amount daily.

Dazai gets up only a few minutes after Chuuya, feeling droopy as he walks to the bathroom so he can brush his teeth. He joins him, sitting down at the small table Chuuya has in his room. Dazai hasn't said a word yet, and Chuuya finds it strange—usually, he would've made some sort of joke about his cooking by now. "Dazai?" Chuuya calls. Dazai slowly turns his head up to look at the other. "Yeah?"

"What happened?" he asks, because he knows that if he asks 'are you okay', Dazai wouldn't respond, or he'd lie about it. "Do you think Odasaku will be at the bar today?" Dazai asks quietly.

"I—I don't think so..." Chuuya replies, he can't bother lying about it—that would only bring Dazai's hopes up. "The pills wore off," Dazai changes the topic, looking back at the food on his plate but making no move to pick anything up. "Now I feel like shit again."

He liked being able to sometimes tell Chuuya how he's actually feeling, he was the only person he trusted afterall.

And that's how a year later, the conversation is brought up again. "Odasaku will be there," Dazai says, grabbing his things so he can go. "Dazai, no he's not—" he tries grabbing onto his hand, trying to pull him back. "Why not?! You don't know that for sure!"

"Dazai—" Chuuya starts, brows furrowing as he stares back at Dazai. "—Oda left. Ango died, Oda left, and he's not coming back." He tries holding onto his hands, but Dazai pulls them back. "You're wrong."

"Why don't you understand?! He left when we were fifteen, Dazai—you didn't even know him for that long," Chuuya yells. He didn't mean to, but it doesn't get through Dazai's head normally and it's already become so hard for them in general.

Dazai stares back at Chuuya, not moving his mouth to speak as he throws the things he was going to take onto the floor. He reaches into his pocket, taking out the same pills he had taken over a year ago. "When did you get those again?" Chuuya asks, moving closer. "Fuck off, Chuuya," Dazai nudges an elbow when he gets too close, pouring several pills onto his hand. "If you keep taking those, you're always gonna feel like shit," Chuuya says, taking the pills out of Dazai's hand and throwing them in the trash.

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does," Chuuya answers, softly. Then, suddenly, rage builds in his chest, realization hitting him in the face, "Why the fuck would it not matter?!"

"Is whatever we have even real? Is this some painted picture I made in my stupid head?" Dazai asks, attention now on Chuuya. The silence grows as they blankly stare at each other. "You tell me," Chuuya shrugs, and he's trying to make it seem like he doesn't care. When really, he cares the most.

Feelings like these were what made Chuuya feel alive, being around Dazai made him feel more alive. And naturally, he assumed that Dazai felt that same around him.

"I love you," Dazai says, throwing the container that he stored the pills in onto the floor. "Your answer to that is for you to decide, obviously."

Chuuya crosses his arms over his chest, "I love you."

They fall back into rhythm after that, just like how they do every time. It didn't matter if they were together, on opposing sides, or even on different planets—their contrast and partnership together was always at its best no matter the situation.