People are afraid of the dark and what lurks in it. They are afraid of her as well.
And yet, Dazai Osamu-- a man drowning in the same sea of shadows that had long since become her home-- was the first to tell her that she belonged to the light.
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•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
I want clear skies and stars.
I want soft winds and quiet.
Instead, I have rage
and a bed that's too big
because you are not in it.
- Elisabeth Hewer
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
Chuuya might not often seem to be the most considerate man out there, but he was truly a good friend who tended to worry about those he cared for, even if he didn't always make it obvious.
"Where are you off to, (Y/n)?" he asked, eyebrow rising in mild interest as he caught up with his partner.
She glanced at him briefly, smiling in greeting. "Training with Akutagawa," she replied.
Clicking his tongue, Chuuya shook his head. "You have too much on your plate," he commented, displeased. "This is all that bastard's fault for ditching you and his responsibilities. If you see him around again, uppercut him in the damn jaw because of how overworked you are now. Screw that, I'll punch him myself."
"When have you not wanted to punch Dazai?" she asked, amused at the redhead's indignation in her stead.
"It's his face," Chuuya informed her. "It's so annoying. I can't help but feel excessively violent." He paused, turning to peer at her with narrowed eyes. "Although I suppose you must've liked his face since you guys were a thing and shit."
She returned his gaze with a challenging one of her own. "A thing?" she repeated. "Eloquent."
Chuuya rolled his eyes, following her into the elevator. "You know what I mean, brat."
