BUNGO STRAY DOGS SHORT STORIES

The smell of new books

Brief summary: A fun au where Dazai is a bookworm and a popular author. (Something nice and wholesome after my last short)
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There was nothing the great Dazai Osamu couldn't write. No form of literature or fantastical writing was left starved of his mark. "The greatest author of the year." Was the title in the newspaper, underneath, the brunettes photograph was displayed. He had no smile, his brows furrowed into a crease as he sat in a public library signing off his latest hit. A novella of a women destined for death. It made Dazai's female orientated audience swoon to be that woman, as self inserted characters were often his forte.

Dazai had been given many awards for his breathtaking writing, but they all sit abandoned on the walls of his apartment. Achievements, awards and praise weren't what he was after, they weren't his end goal or what he ever thought about when he was writing the next bestseller. Dazai wanted to feel connected to those who felt connected to his books. He longed for the physical aspect of his job. The handshakes, the photos with fans and the conferences.

He had been put on display like an animal in the zoo. Critiques who had bland taste despised his dark and romanticised, yet realistic writings. They picked at the way he used his words, sophisticated into strands of poetry. They called at the cover design and the acknowledgments he would mention in the last few pages of his books. But Dazai didn't care, he didn't write it for them. He didn't even write for himself. His stories were for the people like him, the women who dreamt of love but were lonely, the young boys who were afraid to show their femininity and for those that visited the hospitals more than their local schools and supermarkets. He wrote it for the people who kept living despite the world they lived in wanting them dead, or that's how he felt anyway.

•

Dazai sat at his desk, arms folded beneath his head and his spectacles molding into the side of his face. It had been another big day, a small meet and greet that was meant to be quite low key had been set up beside the lake. He wasn't one for big crowds and preferred to have much longer and deeper conversations with his adoring fans. Half of which were quite smitten to have met Dazai and shared their love for his books (and him) as they lazed in the sun. Dazai's manager also kept the meetings under the radar from the local press and media. This was purely because Dazai often drew up big crowds just walking around the city, and he was not a fan of the media, so to prevent Dazai from outright offending the paparazzi they decided it would be best to keep him out of their line of sight, or perhaps keep them away from Dazai.

Dazai stirred when the smell of coffee wafted into the room. A mug being set down beside his unedited work and a hand making its way through the others thick hair. "Idiot.. working yourself to the bone." The voice muttered, but nonetheless admiring his adored partner. He watched as Dazai began to wake up, a lazy hand stretching out for the warm mug. He sipped it and titled his head into the others hand, looking up at him.

"Good morning Chuuya," Dazai's voice was rough with sleep and filled up the space in the others bones.

"If you call ten at night morning then yeah, good morning sleepyhead." Chuuya replied nonchalantly, running his hands through the mattered hair in Dazai's forehead. "What did I say about taking breaks?" The other replied with a shrug, sipping on his coffee while he's eyes began to focus on the bright light of his computer.

"I've been taking breaks.. just small ones." He added quietly and murmured into his mug. Chuuya clicked his tongue in dismay and turned his attention to the screen on the desk. He sat on the arm rest of Dazai's seat, rubbing out the knots that had gathered in the others spine. Dazai had been staring at the same paragraph for the last two days, it seemed that even the greatest had their off days. Despite only recently publishing a book there were hundreds of progress writings saved into that computer, and right now one of his half finished stories had been whispering into Dazai's ear. Whispering for him to continue writing.

So that was how Chuuya found Dazai that night, fallen asleep at his desk with discarded news articles and sticky notes that displayed Dazai's tight handwriting and scripture.

"Are you going to kill off your protagonist in this one too?" Chuuya was Dazai's number one fan and he made sure the author remembered that. Chuuya always read the stories before his editor even got to him.

"I don't do it all the time."

"Yes you do."

"No-"

The two began to bicker back and forth. But it was not laced with violence or hatred, it was tender words that had fallen between them hundreds of times over the years they had been together. Chuuya pressed a kissed to the others forehead, before rising from his spot beside him.

"I'll leave you to it, don't let me catch you here past midnight though." Dazai knew not to take his partners warnings lightly. He only chuckled to himself and muttered a smart response under his breath.

•

Dazai shuffled towards the quiet confines of his shared bedroom. A lump underneath the thick quilt suggested that Chuuya had already retreated to sleep, he was often beating Dazai to bed. Dazai grumbled and slowly peeled off the creased clothing from his limbs, his bones cracking in various places as he moved and stretched and crawled into their bed.

Carefully, as if approaching a small animal, dazai looped his arms around Chuuya's middle drawing him close. The heat of his red-headed lover was enough to ease the chills he felt on his body. Chuuya's brows creased and he grumbled weakly.

"Dazai?" His voice came out in a quiet, raspy whisper and he further relaxed into his lovers arms.

"Go back to sleep." The brown-haired man cooed. His voice smooth and soft as ever as he gently soothed the other back to sleep. Dazai felt an overwhelming amount of love and affection for the male that rested in his arms. He nestled his head behind the others nape and closed his eyes, listening to the soft even breathing that fell from Chuuya's lips.

When they were to wake in the morning, Dazai would thank his lucky stars to be able to see such an Angel with freckles glowing in the soft light. Dazai's heart would swell and fill up with love and he would hold onto his partner much to the others distaste (adoration).