Amnesia

Chapter 3 ; knives and nostalgia

i honestly quite like this chapter, featuring ;

- housewife!chuuya

- conflicted&inlove!dazai

- awkward fluff

- and a tiny bit of angst

---

Knives and nostalgia

It was a week and a half after his dramatic scene with Chuuya Nakahara and the brunette still couldn't get him out of his head. He had come to the conclusion that Chuuya didn't have a reason to lie, therefor wasn't lying about his past. It would explain why he could handle guns so well, why he so good in material arts without really training for it and perhaps even why he hated himself. Yet, he felt that he wasn't quite ready to hear the truth. (Did the Detective Agency lie about his past? Or did they genuinely didn't know?) Denying everything would be easier, right? His already complicated life wouldn't get any more complicated. Was that what he wanted? Was it what he needed? He didn't know. He let him himself fall back, letting out a loud sigh.

His mind was filled with Chuuya, Chuuya and more Chuuya.

His adorable drunkenness, his harsh words, pretty face and soft pale skin, the crack of his voice when he asked if Dazai remembered him at all, the immensely sad look in his eyes once Dazai had said that he in fact didn't. He groaned, covering his eyes with his bandaged arm. His feelings towards the other were all over the place.

Would he let the redhead fuck over everything he thought was true?

Yes.

He probably would.

Why?

He didn't know.

His evening pondering was quickly disturbed by a soft knock on his door. He groaned as he rolled of the couch and onto the floor with a loud tump. He got himself together and stood up to open his apartment door, dragging his feet as he walked. He looked through the door-peeping-hole, but didn't see anyone. With a small sigh he opened the door, if it were another bomb he would certainly just let it explode and kill him. His mouth fell open in an wordless 'oh' when he realised the reason for why he wasn't able to see visitor from the peeping hole.

The visitor was simply too short to reach the peeping hole.

"Nice to see you again, Chuuya. Yet, if I recall correctly, you were the one that said you never wanted to see my face again. That aside, may I ask what brings you here?"

The brunette recovered himself, quickly trying to hide his surprise by mocking the redhead.

"I owe you a date, remember?"

Chuuya, accompanied by a bottle of wine and a bag filled with groceries, shrugged uncomfortably. He looked adorable in his silly hat, with his cute blush and tight fitting clothes that showed- Dazai immediately cut off that train of thought. (Behave yourself, Osamu, he thought to himself. No inappropriate thoughts on a first date.)

"I suppose you do. By all means, please come in."

Dazai answered before he stepped back, holding the door open for the other. He then turned around and followed the redhead to the living room, muttering soft apologies about the mess his apartment was. He hadn't been expecting anyone tonight and the small, but snug apartment was filled with dubious books (suicide guides, not the pornographic kind), sharp knives and razors, bottles of prescription pills and empty liquor bottles.

Oops.

He rather awkwardly picked up the things implying his weak state of mind and deposed of them in the bedroom, cutting his fingers on multiple knifes as he did so. Chuuya, whose eyes were ever so slightly widened, just ignored it. Bless him for just ignoring it.