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

Before the Sun Rises

He tries not to make a habit of it. But, whether it's the intoxication or some other feeling deep down inside that Chuuya won't admit, he ends up at Osamu's door more often than he intends to. Osamu never turns him away, just checks that no one has followed his former partner, and takes him to bed.

Sometimes there's a short quip between them, harmful words that truly did no harm to them. Other times, it's blissful silence. Osamu always seems to be waiting for him, never in bed unless Chuuya is there. But, it's not like he cares about Osamu's wellbeing. It's not why he just happens to stumble into his arms during his lowest points. He swears that it's not.

Today, he wakes up stirred by a siren blaring in the distance and echoing through the city. Moonlight sheds a warm glow through the window, and Chuuya is acutely aware of a large pair of arms wrapped about him. He rubs sleep away from his eyes and glanced about the room. The clock reads 5:37 am. It's not quite yet morning, but the city stays alive.

Chuuya lingers for a moment, not sure if he should get up. He blinks and feels Osamu's warm breath tickle the back of his neck. He shivers even beneath the blanket and makes the executive decision to leave. Except, when he tries to wriggle his way out, those hands pull tighter against him.

"Hey, Dazai!" Chuuya snaps. "Let me go, would you?" Behind him the sleepy lump shifts and burrows his face further into Chuuya's backside.

"D'wanna," Osamu groans, voice deep in the groggy morning slog. Chuuya rolled his eyes, contemplating if he should use his ability to fling him away, but a hand snaking across his waist breaks his chain of thought.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Just a little bit longer, please," Osamu begs. It's uncharacteristic of the suicidal maniac. Even Chuuya is caught off guard, but something in him gives in, and relishes in this comfort for just a little longer.

"...Fine, but I have to go soon. Unlike you, I have a track record of being on time at the Port Mafia," Chuuya trails on. Osamu huffs but says nothing more, simply existing in the silence that is him and Chuuya.

Osamu has never felt more at peace. He doesn't mind the ridicule of the people around him, but even a man like him wants serenity. He won't say it either, but Chuuya brings him that feeling of existing without judgment beyond what they already know about each other. Chuuya does not fear him in the way that others stare him down with shaking eyes.

Despite that, he wishes to keep this moment and commit it to memory so that even when he knows he'll wake with empty arms and rays tiptoeing through his blinds, he can cherish it to fill the void in his chest.

Osamu likes Chuuya. Chuuya likes Osamu. But, neither one will admit it. Their only witness is the dying moonlight that cries on their behalf before the sun rises.