Molly's Fics Cause she Refuses to Read Them on Ao3

Falling

Tw/Tags: Light BDSM, Light Sadism, Light Masochism, Knifeplay, Light Angst
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Life as a mafia executive sure was rather chequered and bore some surprises left and right — which didn't explain, however, why Chuuya got home on a perfectly normal tuesday evening just to find himself confronted with a phantom from his past pacing back and forth in his living room, distant gaze shifting into a shit-eating grin as they noticed his presence.

„Chuuya", Dazai purred, stopping to find himself glared at through piercing blue irises.

„What the fuck are you doing here?"

„You seemed quite exhausted last time, you know that, right? I wanted to make sure you are okay. I was worried, Chuuya."

Corruption hadn't become anything less to bear over the course of all those years, but Dazai knew first-hand that Chuuya used to recover rather fast. He hadn't ever been the type to check up on anyone — his job was done right after stopping that too-greedy madness from eating the executive's body up from the inside. There was nothing more to it.

Chuuya sighed. „No, why are you actually here? Don't act like you're concerned about me, I kind of don't buy that."

He leaned against the wall next to him, gaze carelessly flying out of the window on the opposite side of the room, trailing off into the colours of the sunset that today out of all evenings seemed to be even more vibrant than usual; pretending not to care about how it was Dazai out of all people now standing right before him, in his flat, his presence crushing even though it shouldn't really matter — pretending not to be aware of the fact that there was a wall behind him, cutting off any room to back up in case Dazai once again forgot what the concept of personal space was about.

The smug smile on the former executive's lips only broadened.

„I am, Chuuya", he stated, the undertone to his voice playfully sulky, „and I was bored."

His eyes, however, told another story, glimmering with that distinct spark of something Chuuya still knew all to well. It reminded him of how four or five years ago, they had been too close and not nearly close enough on a regular basis, of how he had once melted into Dazai's touch because the heat of hate and desire was always too much, of how there had been an entire universe waiting for him in chestnut brown eyes when he only had been gone too far already.

Things that were supposed to remain memories — and as time had passed, Chuuya had grown to hating them, just as it should be. He was fine, now.

„Oh come on, don't give me that look. You're not tricking me into thinking you don't care. If you can still read me, you are an open book to me yourself, right?" Dazai laughed, and the sound would cling onto Chuuya's skin for days and months after, probably.

„Will you cut the crap and just fuck off already? I don't need you in my life. If leaving is such an easy thing for you to do, why are you still here?"

His tone wasn't as serene as he would have liked it to be, and he couldn't help but glare back at Dazai with all the icy anger his eyes could muster.

The taller man's voice was light, airy, as he replied — annoyingly smug as ever; canting peace before, again, rain would fall. It always did.

„You used to tell me that all the time, Chuuya. Keep telling it to yourself and maybe you'll finally start to believe it one day."

The redhead was just about to respond with an answer he hadn't had quite figured out yet as Dazai closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Chuuya's. His mouth didn't know tenderness when it came to his former partner, it never had; the kiss was rough and savage and way too hot and Chuuya hadn't felt this good in a long time — Dazai's tongue practically invading his mouth, his teeth teasing his lower lip, then delivering a sharp bite that made him gasp out loud, throwing his head back against the wall.