#GFHDGFHDGHFD

[selfnss]

" you can kill me, you know. " dazai stares out the window of his shabby apartment. around this time of month, he can always see the moon from the window. he gazes out at it now, almost hoping it could swallow him whole. " i know you want to get rid of me after what i did to you. " his head slumps and rests against his knee. " i wouldn't mind if chuuya killed me. "

he did say that, didn't he? that he was going to kill the fucker for what he did - that one day he'd beat dazai to enough of a pulp that even the crafty bastard that he is couldn't survive it. chuuya remembers every threat of tearing his partner to pieces and burning what's left, remembers every time he wished dazai would just drop dead where he stands because at least then he wouldn't have to listen to his stupid voice anymore. he watches dazai sit there, curled up into a ball and looking like one good swing would be all it took, and chuuya thinks about how easy it would be to just do exactly that. how easily he could pull the knife from his belt and cut his throat, leave him to bleed out while chuuya stands over him.

he doesn't do any of that, though.

nakahara chuuya stands motionless a few feet away from the other half of himself and he feels something he hadn't expected to. something he hadn't factored into the countless daydreams of this very moment. he thinks it's relief. it burns its way down his throat and settles in his stomach as chuuya clicks his tongue in lieu of an immediate response. stupid asshole always thinks he knows best. stupid asshole doesn't even know the half of it.

"shut up." he thought he'd be angrier. he wants to be angrier. he wants to make dazai feel how he felt all those nights, drunk on wine and calling a number that won't pick up. he wants to make dazai hurt like he hurt chuuya. but then, they both know that dazai's perfectly capable of that without chuuya laying a hand on him or uttering a single word to him. fuck... he needs a cigarette.

"you're an idiot. everyone keeps sayin' how smart you are but i know you, dazai. i know exactly what you are--" why doesn't he sound angrier? where's the flash of white hot rage that's supposed to make all of this bearable? why is dazai osamu always the exception? why does the idea of his partner hiding in this shitty box of an apartment make chuuya feel more sick to the stomach than he did when he realised that dazai wasn't coming back - that his apartment was going to feel that big and empty and loud for a long time to come. chuuya's nose wrinkles, his lip curling upward in a snarl as he doesn't let himself think - as he just says what he's wanted to this whole time. "you're a coward - a traitorous, manipulative bastard who thinks he knows better than everyone else jus' 'cus you've got a few thoughts knockin' around in that stupid, thick skull of yours-- well... well you ain't--"

he doesn't know where he was going with this - doesn't know why he's taking a step closer to the man he wants to use as a punching bag until he can't feel his hands anymore. right? that is how he feels - isn't it?

"i don't care if you think you were savin' me when you abandoned me like that. i don't care if oda told you to go and save people and you thought you'd start with savin' me from the mess you were about to make but--fuck, dazai - i didn't ask for you to save me!" another step closer, he's within arms reach now and chuuya can feel the static in his skull ticking up and up and up the closer he gets - he can feel the poison filling his ribcage the longer he stands there and the more he lets himself rant. fists curled in his pockets tremble and chuuya's vision darkens. he could kill dazai right now. he could make it slow and painful like he promised he could... he could...

a hand appears between them. one that hooks itself 'round the back of dazai's neck and pulls his head into chuuya's chest with a tenderness that couldn't be more out of place compared to the way his voice had trembled with barely contained rage - barely contained destruction that wanted nothing more than to rip and tear until dazai understood.

instead? chuuya hugs dazai against himself and the silence - the blissful silence - that settles over them like a balm makes everything make sense again in the way that things can only make sense when he's with dazai - when they're together. when chuuya feels whole. his next words are muffled against the mop of dark hair, spoken against dazai's scalp as if it might make them easier to speak. "...i don't wanna kill you. i just... i just want my partner back. i always have."