to burn it away

      He meets a boy. Bright eyes and bright hair.       It starts with that.

_

      He swims in the abyss of falsehood, bearing his teeth in every smile, so its brightness will cast away shadows that lie upon his soul.       He does not know what it is like to be happy and it is not because he is unhappy. This world and him just are not mean for each other, but he is life’s favorite, so it keeps him alive and makes him dance on the edge of the line where it crosses with the death.              Life and death both hold his hands and he is stuck somewhere in the middle.       There was no moment for him to smile wholeheartedly after all.       Dazai learns that life can be interesting when he is fifteen.       Chuuya is loud and brush, and it’s not like he has never met anyone like that before, but Chuuya is different. Dazai is young but he is still in very important position, walking by Mori-san’s shoulder. It’s just refreshing to have someone who is not shying away from his watchful eyes or sharp smiles. Chuuya can be painfully naïve sometimes and it is always fun to mess with him, especially when rage fills azure of his eyes and corner of his lips twitch down before he starts screaming.       He pushes and pushes and pushes and Chuuya lets him, looking at him with those eyes and when Dazai’s heart does something funny in his chest, he ignores it.       Their first kiss is unexpected.       They are watching some shitty horror movie, laying on the couch; Dazai is leaning on Chuuya, temple resting on his chest, both of them tired from a long day. When he gets really bored of the movie, he tilts his head back, his eyes finding his partner’s face.       It is not the first time that Dazai think Chuuya is attractive. He is not blind and he is definitely not stupid, so no matter how much he hates the slug he is not going to deny it. It will make him look childish and Dazai is not a child, mind you.       Chuuya looks as bored as Dazai feels; his head is slightly turned towards TV, but his gaze is absent. His eyes are bathing in cold light, something that Dazai notices a lot, and they are so incredibly blue. They look different with each emotion that Chuuya feels.       “What are you looking at?”       He misses the moment when Chuuya turns his eyes on him. His voice is a little sleepy and it sends a shiver down his spine, making him feel weird and hot. Dazai wrinkles his nose, insults on the tip of his tongue, but then he freezes, noticing how close are their faces. He can see the rare freckles on his cheeks and that the skin under his eyes is a little red. For someone who spent his childhood in a place like Suribachi, where sun is burning like hell and the air is sticky, Chuuya is pretty pale.       He swallows, throat dry and meets his eyes. Chuuya’s breath is hot on the bridge of his nose and Dazai is suddenly aware that his lips are really close.       He didn’t plan kissing him because ew, why would he even kiss Chuuya?       He does. He does kiss Chuuya.       It is sloppy, messy and very awkward, but they are both sixteen and it is their first kiss not just with each other but in general, so they don’t really know better. Chuuya’s lips are not as soft as he thought they would be and they don’t really taste like anything, but they are warm. Their noses are brushing awkwardly, and his neck is starting to ache, but he ignores it, leaning further on Chuuya, feeling his hair brush over his face.       Chuuya’s hand is steady on his neck, and Dazai feels so warm inside, it makes him shiver.

_

      Their second kiss is soft.       If anyone walks in and finds them lying on the ground in Hirotsu’s place; Chuuya on his back and Dazai’s face pressed into his ribs, he would probably kill them so there would be no witness of his stupidity. He doesn’t even know how they end up like this, but he finds it hard to complain because Chuuya is warm and his heart is right under his ear and Dazai can hear its steady beating. His chest is trembling slightly from holding back a laughter, just like Dazai’s shoulders, and he feels funny but not in a bad way, so he does not pull away.       It is incredibly easy to be stupid with Chuuya around.       He turns his head instead, his eyes running over Chuuya’s face, lingering on his jawline and corner of his mouth. He can’t see his eyes in this angle but it is not hard to imagine how they brighten when laughter colors them, making his gaze softer and calmer. It is not something you can see often but Dazai is very, very observant and Chuuya has truly captivating eyes.       Not that he is gonna say it loud.       “Finally get rid of your ugly hat?” he says instead, looking at red curls spreading over the floor.       “Leave my hat alone, dickhead,” Chuuya answers, but there is no bite in his voice and he is oddly calm which makes Dazai relax as well.       “It is a stupid hat.”       “Your face is stupid, too, but I deal with it somehow, right?”       “Chuuya is so mean.”       Lying like this is uncomfortable. His stomach hurts because floor is not really soft, even if half of his body is heavily leaning on Chuuya.       “Aren’t you tired?”       “Of what?”       “Living.”       Chuuya pause for a moment, letting silence fall between them. Laughter dies slowly, leaving warm feeling inside and he just listens how Chuuya’s heart beats and feels how his chest rises up and then down. He doesn’t look at his face.       “I am, I guess,” he answers finally and his voice is not cold or distant and it is not even tired. “I mean yeah, it sucks. But you deal with shit however you can. You just… get up and walk,” he pauses for a moment. “I don’t really know how to do differently, you know.”       He knows. Of course he does.       Chuuya has that look on his face when his mind is somewhere else and his eyes are clouded with something akin sadness, but not quite. He wonders if he is with the Flags because Dazai knows how much his dead friends means to him. They healed the wounds that the Sheep — and life in general — left and then they died, leaving even bigger one; bleeding and aching, the one Dazai will never understand. Chuuya can’t even get his revenge because the person who is responsible for that is a Port Mafia executive now and Chuuya calls him brother.       Stupid Chuuya and his stupid heart, bleeding for everyone but himself.       “Hey.”       “M-m?”       Chuuya doesn’t even bother to look at him and he feels annoyance curls under his ribs, his stomach spasms unpleasantly.       “Ouch, asshole! What the hell?!” Chuuya lets out a hiss through his teeth eyes when Dazai kicks his side with elbow, and punches him in return; not hard but enough for Dazai to whine.       He puts his hands from both sides of Chuuya’s head, meeting his narrowed eyes with his own. There is not much of a space between them, just like he wanted, and Chuuya’s focus is fully on him now and not somewhere away, where Dazai can’t reach him.       Dazai knows the softness of his hair; his fingertips hold the touch no matter how hard he ignores it. He brushes his hand over Chuuya’s forehead, letting his fingers to slide into the red curls, and Chuuya doesn’t pull away, looking at him calmly and waiting. He leans closer, until their noses are touching and he can take in Chuuya’s breath, and their lips are not touching yet, but they are so very close.       This time it is Chuuya who kisses him first.       It’s less awkward but just as warm as the first time. This time their noses are not in the way and the angle is so much better, and Dazai may or may not looked up a few things, so it won’t be as embarrassing as the first time. Their chests are pressed to each other, and Chuuya’s hand is on his waist, warm and steady, his fingers curls on his shirt and then loosen again, and suddenly Dazai’s mind is blank.       His breath is catches in his throat when he feels Chuuya tilting his head up, kissing him harder, but still careful, and there is an aching in Dazai’s chest again.       Him and Chuuya are painfully similar; both are like broken mirrors which fragments you can’t place together and expect it to be the same. And yet, there are so many things about Chuuya he does not understand, and he is really grateful that there are things about him Chuuya can’t understand as well.

_

      When they kiss third time, Dazai is desperate.       Dazai doesn’t know how to feel about it at first. It just comes to him naturally; waiting for Chuuya to stand by his side, catching every small change of his face or body. It is not a big deal because Dazai is observant in general but with Chuuya it somehow becomes intentional. Wanting to know every small thing, searching for him when they are separated. It makes him feel weird in a way Dazai has never felt before, and he hated it so much at first, because Dazai Osamu is calculated and cold and Chuuya, damn him, makes him everything but.       He takes a breath, damp air clinging to his lungs, his bandages uncomfortably on his sweaty skins. Dazai can feel pain creeping up to his temples.       Chuuya’s head is heavy on his tights; his face is covered in blood, dry on his nose and lips, and his skin is feverish. Dazai holds him close, waiting for back up to reach to the destroyed building Chuuya left after Corruption. He is breathing heavily, trembling with each inhale and it makes Dazai’s stomach drop.       His fingers are tightly curls on Chuuya’s wrist.       (one two tree one two tree one two tree one two tree–)       Chuuya hates using Corruption and Dazai tries to avoid scenarios when they would need it. It works mostly, of course, but sometimes it is hard, so they end up in situations like this. Chuuya gets better at handling aftermath of Corruption with each time. It’s like his body is getting stronger with his ability, which is a reminder that Chuuya is not like anyone else.       “Dazai-kun.”       There is a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently, but he is focused on Chuuya and his pulse, beating rapidly under his finger.       (one. two. tree–)       “Dazai-kun, I need you to let go of him.”       He meets Mori-san’s eyes, calm and calculated, but there is a softness in them, the one that usually is directed to Kouyou and sometimes to him and Chuuya. Dazai swallows, hand still clutching his partner’s wrist and the man sighs tiredly.       “Get up. You will watch over him in the car.”       Later he sits near Chuuya’s bed because that’s an unspoken agreement they both have: if one of them is somehow in hospital, the other is always need to be there when he wakes up.       He looks so pale he is merging with bed sheets; even his hair, bright as burning fire, look faded. Dazai sits near the bed, resting his head next to Chuuya’s thigh. His hand briefly brushes Dazai cheek, he almost does not feel it, but is enough for tightness in his chest to relax a little and letting him breath. Dazai watches how his chest rises up and down slowly, and thinks that Chuuya is never this calm when he is awake. His shoulders are always tense and there is tightness around his eyes, as if he is keeping himself on edge all the time, waiting for something to happen.       He closes his eyes and lets the darkness to embrace him, taking him to places he don’t need to feel so restless and heavy.       When he wakes up, his head is not hurting as if it was crushed with the stone, and his throat is dry. He sits, rubbing his sore neck, and he meets the pair of clouded blue eyes.       Chuuya blinks slowly, ignoring how Dazai stills, and frowns.       “Help me sit.”       His voice is hoarse and so very tired. Dazai obeys, watching how his face twitches from pain, and sits with him, hand sliding from Chuuya’s shoulder, stating on his wrist.       “We got them,” he says after a long pause, seeing how Chuuya’s gaze gets more focused. “Two of them survived, they are currently under Akutagawa’s care. Others are dead.”       “Good,” he murmurs, meeting Dazai’s eyes. He must have noticed something because he is frowning slightly. “What’s up?”       Chuuya… Chuuya is a wild beast that bares its teeth dangerously on everything that can be threat to him. He bows his head to Mori-san, but crushes sculls when he feels he is caged. He is a storm; angry and ruthless, the one that can destroy everything, but at the same time the serenity of skies reflects in his eyes. He is complicated like that, and sometimes Dazai looks at him and he is overwhelmed by the wave of delight that washes over him, making his heart skip a beat and his palms sweat.       Chuuya is interesting. Chuuya is loud and he is alive in a way Dazai can’t imagine to ever be, and sometimes it makes him envy, but mostly he just watches and watches and watches, absorbing Chuuya’s warmth and the light that surrounds him.       Dazai… Dazai is not very good with emotions, but Chuuya alerts something inside him, something that makes his body react and not just in sexual way. It is like his body wants to explain something to him that his brain is failing to.       “Noting. I just–”       He can’t imagine losing him. He doesn’t want to.       Dazai doesn’t have words for that. He doesn’t have words for a lot of things about Chuuya. And it’s not like Chuuya needs them because he is more of a “do-it” guy. So Dazai doesn’t tell him anything.       He moves closer, resting his forehead on Chuuya’s, and feels his heart beating so hard, it makes his chest hurt.       When Dazai kisses Chuuya this time, there is something scratching his throat from the inside. Fingers on Chuuya’s wrist squeeze harder, feeling the pulse on fingertips, reminding that Chuuya is alive, and he is going to be fine.              He is fine.       Tightness in his chest does not loosen, so Dazai leans more, putting his free hand on the side of Chuuya’s throat, nails slightly scratching the back of his neck, so he can feel his warmth, and he can feel Chuuya skin to skin and body to body, and it is not enough, so Dazai wants to open himself up and let Chuuya even closer; to his bones and to his heart.       Chuuya doesn’t pull away. His hand rest on Dazai waist, grip tight and steady, as if he feels Dazai is not really with him and tries to bring him back. He tilts his head, making their lips to disconnect, which makes Dazai grunt, but then they are kissing, his lower lip between Chuuya’s and Chuuya’s tongue warm on it.       Their third kiss is bitter in Dazai’s mouth, but he will take it, and he will take it even if it is bloody and dirty, and taste like death itself.

_

      Their fourth kiss is hungry. They kiss more than once this time.       Chuuya’s lips taste like expensive cigarettes he is always smoking. He laughs when Dazai kisses him, taking in his breathes. His fingers are curling on Chuuya’s waist, probably leaving bruises, and Chuuya wrinkles his nose, but doesn’t push him away, letting Dazai to hold him and to kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.       Dazai keeps his eyes open, watching Chuuya’s face closely. His hand slides under the white shirt and touches the warm skin, squeezing in harshly. He wants to leave as many marks as possible, he wants to feel as much as possible. He wants to sink in the azure of Chuuya’s eyes and wants to breath him in.       (He wants, he wants, he wants, he wants so fucking much–)       And Chuuya — silly, silly Chuuya — generously lets him. To kiss him until their lungs are burning. To run fingers over his scars, gently scratching them again and again. Brush lips over his jawline, slide to his neck, to that stupid choker, and sink teeth into the skin under it. Softly at first and then harder, to leave a mark.       Chuuya lets him a lot of things and Dazai was never a good person, to refuse.       He pulls away to press their foreheads together. It is a soft gesture. Vulnerable. Chuuya’s eyes meet his own, and they stay like this; bodies pressed to each other’s and gaze open, looking and taking. The corner of Chuuya’s mouth twitches in small smile, and Dazai’s stomach does something funny. Air between them is humming with tension, it clings to lungs and burns, making hard to breathe.       He swallows, when Chuuya reaches to his head, playing with his hair, before his fingers sink into the brown curls, brushing them softly. Chuuya presses to the back of his head and Dazai obeys, leaning closer and letting him to leave a short kiss on his lips. Again, and again, and again, and this is not fourth kiss anymore, and Dazai kind of lost the track but he doesn’t care, not when his hands are in Chuuya’s pants, and Chuuya’s tongue is warm in his mouth. Dazai takes in his low moan, feeling shiver runs down his spine. His skin is sweaty, and he hates how his bandages that cling to it. There is a burning in his abdomen that heats up his blood.       There is a hole in his chest. He can’t fill it no matter how hard he is trying. So Dazai will burn it with the fire that Chuuya wakens in him.

_

      There is a kiss between them they don’t share. He doesn’t know what kiss it would be and how would it taste, but Dazai thinks it has to be a goodbye or something close to that.       At the age of eighteen he has learnt that despites the fact that he is broken, there are things that can work for him. Things that make him feel different, something else from the monotone and cold line that his life is. It’s like he is sinking deep in the ocean, and he can see the sunlight on the surface, can even imagine its warmth but it is so far away, he can’t reach it even when he tries. But sometimes he can feel the sun’s breath on his fingertips. And it makes difference, just like hours that he spends with Odasaku and Ango makes difference, and Chuuya — teasing him, and thinking of him, and touching him, and kissing him, and just Chuuya — makes difference.       Dazai also has learnt that it in the end it doesn’t matter. He wants things and he yearns for thing and when he gets them he loses them. It is simple like that, because Dazai is not like other humans and he is different; broken and empty, and sometimes his entire existence feels like a mistake, as if someone put a spider lily in the field of red tulips.       Death is following him. Like an old friend, like a lover, she takes him in her arms so gently, he forgets for a moment. He wishes it would be longer than a moment. He wishes the death would warm him in her embrace, so it won’t matter anymore if he is cold. He wishes he wouldn’t be alive, so he won’t be reminded over and over again that there is something broken in him and he just can’t fix it.       Dazai crashes into Chuuya’s apartment, Odasaku’s blood dry on his hands, and just sits in the corner of his bedroom. Chuuya is not in Yokohama, which makes everything easier and harder at the same time. Dazai wants to call, but Chuuya immediately will notice that something is off, and he can’t really risk it, so he just sits there like an idiot, staring at his own phone.       There is a pervasive desire to take his nails down his own flesh and rip out his hair by the roots, draw out some blood and dig deeper into the wounds, to feel how it burns and burns and burns. He feels the itching in his palms. He keeps the last kiss to himself. He doesn’t know what it would taste like, but right now, leaving Chuuya’s apartment behind, Dazai feels ashes lying on his tongue.