As I freeze, two burning hands embrace me || soukoku ||

A lake of ice has settled on he

A/N: yh if u didn't notice I have a habit of going into characters' complexions-
I SWEAR I'll stop doing so much angst ....
Hahah jk 🥰
**It is Monday 21/9/23 and I FINALLY finished this chappie🥳 I just gotta edit and add more details/description ^^
If you thought reading slow burn is painful try writing it 🥲
*.                     *. -*.                     *. -*.                     *. -*.                     *. - *.                    

Chuuya exited the bathroom.
How he dreaded his stupid brain sometimes. He was fairly irritated. As he was leaving his room he noticed a frameless photo in front of the door frame with small shards of transparent glass atop it.
It was a picture of he and Dazai.

His fists Unconsciously clenched and he scowled. "The fuck is this still here for?"
His eyes thinned and he stormed past it, barging Into the particularly clean open-plan kitchen. Chuuya frowned when he saw it, he never had time to clean. Then again, he was barely ever at home; No wonder the wooden floor was practically sparkling. He would just make some hangover soup, the headache was kicking in.

Alas, he still felt as if something was strange. But he ignored it and sauntered sluggishly towards the fridge, not sparing the island he and Dazai once drank alcohol at a glance.

He truly hated it—anything that was even slightly linked to Dazai was absolutely torturous. He would've gotten the island demolished, however there was no way on earth he could be bothered to do that.

Either way, he still hated it along with anything else that had even the most minor connection to Dazai with all of his heart. He couldn't even go to seafood restaurants because for some reason they always recommend crab and every time he heard that word he wanted to snap someones neck.

So when he saw the bottle of sake glaring right at him from the fridge shelf he almost smashed it then and there. He didn't though, because A: He was still half asleep and B:before he could he spotted a yellow sticky note.

He didn't have to read the text to know who wrote it. The swirls and the sickly cursive writing told it all. The signature on the bottom right simply confirmed it.

Chuuya really felt like he could kill somebody. Is it a dream? A hallucination? But when he went to take the sticky note it peeled off. He didn't read it, just stared at the signature full of swirls for a while. It looked like it was dancing in his clouded vision, but truly it was weeping.

Chuuya knew that.
He always knew that. He wasn't an idiot, he'd spent at least one day per week with Dazai for 3 years. They'd worked side by side on countless missions, so why on earth did that shitty bastard think he could delude him?

He hated how fake he was, but what else could he expect? It was Dazai after all. He made him so angry and confused. Did Dazai really think he wasn't worth being true to? He was overwhelmed with all of these faults, all of his faults.
After all, the confidence Chuuya seemed to have was simply crafted from the respect others had towards him. It had nothing to do with how he felt about himself.

It was laughable to him. He let out a bitter, hateful chuckle. He was really fucking insecure about everything.
It's strange how you can have people joke about shit like your appearance and be fine, but when you think back on it while staring in the mirror you start wondering if they actually mean it. Then the self-love you once got while looking at your reflection morphs into hatred and self consciousness. It's like that with everything else too.