Just once

TW: Mild depictions of sexual assault

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There was something about Chuuya that Dazai could always respect, it was that regardless of how much of a hot mess his house looked like, Chuuya would remain unbothered. And his house, at the time, was the worst it had been. It was obvious Dazai hadn't had the will to clean in over a month. Dishes were stacked in precarious piles on the sink, his dirty clothing spilling from his room across the floor, the floors were stained and muddied from recent rain that had pummeled the city, buckets scattered about the hallways to collect the rainwater dripping through the mismatched roof.

"Home sweet home," Dazai muttered sarcastically.

Chuuya barely blinked an eye at the disarray of rubbish and clutter and instead walked profoundly into the kitchen and thumped the bag of groceries on the floor. He pointed at the piles of dishes on the sink, "Help me clean these, then we can cook."

Dazai had no choice but to oblige, washing and drying to the best of his abilities as Chuuya bossed him around like he was a fucking corps lieutenant. The two barely talked, which was somewhat more comfortable as the two had nothing to talk about. Though the silence was never awkward, just present, almost natural for the two. Dazai had to admit, that the two of them somewhat acted like an old married couple. That was an idea that almost made him laugh.

Chuuya pulled out the groceries and stared at them with his hands tensed on his hips, "How can I help?" Dazai asked.

"You can make yourself busy by picking up your dirty clothes and washing them because I am not touching your dirty underwear."

"Fair enough," Dazai sighed.

"You like casserole, right? Because that's what I'm making," Chuuya said over his shoulder.

Dazai shrugged, "I didn't know you could cook."

Chuuya scoffed, "I can't. Just going off muscle memory."

"Oh, yay," Dazai mumbled sarcastically as he left the room.

Chuuya eyed the kitchen around him. By now he had taken in the whole house, every corner of every room. He studied the photos stuck to the fridge, one of them with a young Dazai squeezing an even younger Atsushi who had what looked like pasta sauce smeared on his face and chubby fingertips. Chuuya had taken note of the old paintings that lined the hallways of the house, dusted and withered, they were depictions of beautiful landscapes, a sunny beach with crystal blue waves, a rolling farm amidst peak storm season, pine trees towering over a glass lake. They were painted with a kind of delicate love Chuuya couldn't quite put a finger on.

It was hard to imagine Dazai growing up there, playing in the garden, on the swing, skimming his knees on the pavement outside, and staying up late to catch his favorite shows on TV. It was an odd prospect for Chuuya, growing up in one house your entire life. Chuuya was always tossed around between houses and homes, families and guardians. He always wondered what it would be like, family photos on the fridge, your height as you grew decorating the walls, glimpses of your younger self in the scratched floorboards, and the toys you find years after you were sure they were lost.

Admittedly, Chuuya wasn't the best cook, he never really had the chance to learn. But he managed, digging into the deepest parts of his brain to find some kind of knowledge of what to preheat the oven to and how to dice the onions. But in an hour and a bit, after Dazai had ducked in a couple of times and made some smart remarks about how he was surprised the house had yet to burn down, Chuuya had made a somewhat presentable casserole, the house filled with the rich smell of beef and spices.

Dazai had his hands on his hips, nodding as he contemplated the tray of food sitting on the table, "Not half bad, Chibi, I mean you didn't wash your hands and you aren't wearing a hair net so I'll have to flag you on that, and if I find any strands of red hair in my food I will be asking for a refund, but other than that it looks edible."

"Ha ha," Chuuya mumbled sarcastically as he slumped, exhausted, in a chair. The sun had begun to set, and Chuuya figured he would have to start making his way home soon before it got dark. His legs ached at the thought of having to lug the rest of his groceries home with him in the cold.

Dazai sat down across from him, stabbing a fork into the tray and pulling out a chunk of meat before stuffing it in his mouth, "Woah," He mumbled as he chewed, "It's not actually half bad, good, even."

"Your sarcastic compliments cease to amaze me," Chuuya laughed numbly.

"No, I'm serious," Dazai stuffed his face with another mouthful, "Try some," He said through a mouthful as he handed his fork to Chuuya.

"Ew, I'm not using your fork," Chuuya cringed.

Dazai rolled his eyes, "You've sucked my dick, you can share my fork."

Chuuya snatched the fork off him before he could say any more, "Thanks for reminding me," He sneered sourly, digging the fork into the tray and some in his mouth, his eyes widening, "Huh," He mumbled, nodding, "Maybe you're right, it's kind of good."

"It's not good it's fucking awesome," Dazai took the fork back, "Where did you learn to cook this?"

"I... didn't," Chuuya chuckled, "My Mom would always cook it on special occasions and I'd always watch, I guess the recipe has just stuck."

Dazai nodded as he shoveled more food into his mouth, clearly relishing the first proper meal he's had in months, "You don't talk much about your Mom."

Chuuya shrugged, "There's not much to tell."

"That can't be true, anyone who ends up in foster care must have some kind of story to tell."

"What makes you think I would tell you?" Chuuya raised a sour eyebrow.

"Because," Dazai dug the fork back in the tray, "You may not want to admit it, but I'm just like you. We've grown up shitty, and continue to live shitty lives."

"Wow, thanks," Chuuya muttered numbly.

"I know it sounds cheap but we're in the same boat," Dazai shrugged, "Besides, as you said, I'm never going to see you again."

Chuuya sighed, "She was a druggie- you already know that- but her cunt of a boyfriend was too. One thing leads to another and he dies, this drove my mother crazy and soon enough half the police in the state have a reason to arrest her, so they do, and I wind up shoved between different hell holes of foster care before I met Margaret and Lousia."

"And..." Dazai asked carefully, "Where is your Mom now?"

Chuuya shrugged, remembering the abrupt phone call he had from his mother not 2 months ago; "Please baby, Mommy's sorry, she just needs you to do this, then we can be together again."

"Not sure," He lied, "Probably high as a kite in some ditch." Though he knew it wasn't exactly true, it was the closest he could manage to the truth.

Dazai nodded thoughtfully as if he heard nothing more than a recount of Chuuya's day.

"And yours?" Chuuya asked.

"My what?"

"Your Mom?" Chuuya rolled his eyes, "What's up with her- I mean I know she's..."

"Dead? Yeah, that hasn't changed," Chuuya half expected Dazai to say it sternly, or even sourly, but instead he just smiled wryly, "In case you were wondering I'm not going to tell you some sappy story about how she suffered from cancer or how she bravely sacrificed herself as I narrowly avoided being ripped to pieces by an alligator or some bullshit, I'll save you the cliche 'my mom's dead, feel bad for me' crap. It was her own fault she died." Dazai made fierce, unwavering eye contact with Chuuya as if to frighten off any lingering sympathy, "She was stupid and desperate and let herself get taken advantage of and it ended up with her 6 feet under. I barely knew the woman, then she left as if I was nothing to her. You could say she killed herself."

Chuuya blinked through shellshock, Dazai had said all that in a way that made it clear he wanted no kind of sympathy, nor that he even cared at all as if he were talking about anyone's Mom. But Chuuya couldn't stop himself, "I'm so sorry," He muttered.

Dazai sighed, his head falling down in defeat, "I knew you would say that. If you start crying and giving me pity hugs then you can leave."

Chuuya shook his head, "It's not pity, it's sympathy."

"Yeah," Dazai scoffed, "Like they're not the same thing."

"They're not the same, Dazai, pitying you means I see you as different, sympathy means I see you as equal."

"Great, glad to know you read your dictionary."

Chuuya sighed defeatedly, "Why do you hate people helping you so much?"

"Sorry?" Dazai sounded almost offended.

"When I first came to your house you made it clear you didn't want me to interfere in your home life, even though you knew it would concern me. When your brother went missing you didn't call anyone for help, you tried fixing it yourself and ended up getting hurt. Even when I showed up, you continued to believe that the police and I couldn't help despite the fact you were bleeding to death. Then when I tried, and I mean I really tried to help you, you still pushed me away, you let me get hurt because you couldn't stand the idea of someone helping you. The littlest bit of sympathy scares you. I don't understand how you could be so selfish as to push everyone you love away and treat everyone like shit because you think that's what you deserve. You might be a horrible person at times but no one deserves to live a shitty life of self-pity and isolation."

When Chuuya had finished speaking, Dazai was fully slumped in his chair, staring blankly at the table in front of him. His face formed a momentary expression of hurt before his face snapped back into a thin unreadable line of stone.

"Get out," Dazai muttered, "You need to get home." He abruptly stood up and pushed his chair aside, "Thank you for the casserole."

Chuuya stammered as Dazai strode angrily out of the room, "Come on, Dazai, don't throw a tantrum because I told you the truth."

"I'll throw a fucking tantrum if I want to!" He shouted in reply as he slammed his bedroom door.

Chuuya rubbed his temples with his fingers, sighing through the frustration of having to deal with a 17-year-old toddler. He placed the remaining casserole on the fridge and went to find Dazai, who he found sulking at the foot of his bed.

"You're an asshole," Chuuya sighed.

"I know," Dazai pulled his knees to his chest, "But I'm anything other than selfish."

"How so?" Chuuya asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Didn't I tell you to leave?" Dazai sniffed.

"Yes, but that's not gonna happen." Chuuya went and sat on the windowsill adjacent to Dazai's bed, resting his back on the wall with the cool glass to his side, "Whether you like to admit it or not, we are now permanently involved in each other's lives, if not as enemies then maybe we can try for friends. But you are kidding yourself if you think that I am just going to leave you after everything that happened. I already tried that and I ended up right back where I started; With you."

Dazai moved to sit opposite him on the windowsill, their feet almost touching, "You're probably right. I'm stuck with you. And you're stuck with me. We've both got it pretty shitty, huh?"

Chuuya laughed halfheartedly and rested his head on his arms that were wrapped around his legs, "Yeah."

It was quiet for a moment, not an awkward silence where it felt as if something were missing, but the kind of silence that lets you know you don't need to say anything to know the other person cares about you.

"I'm not selfish," Dazai whispered eventually.

"Hm?"

"I've never really been selfish," He kept his eyes fixed on the happenings occurring outside the window, the sun setting over the horizon, casting the sky into a parade of pinks and oranges, the wind swirling fallen leaves like dancers across the pavement. "Everything I do is for someone else, and if that makes me an asshole then so be it."

Chuuya raised an eyebrow, "Selling drugs?" And outing me to the entire school? Though Chuuya didn't say the last bit out loud.

Dazai nodded, "I had a kid to take care of, he deserves the world, and I wanted to give it to him."

"But..." Chuuya began, "Drugs? Why?"

"Because if everything in my life was going to be fucked I might as well choose to dig myself deeper, rather than no longer be in control."

"Then why did you have sex with me," Chuuya tried to catch Dazai's eyes, to no avail, "Twice," He added.

Dazai tapped at the window and shrugged, "I felt sorry for you."

"There has to be a reason," Chuuya sighed, "Other than pity."

Dazai ran a hand through his hair, "I don't know, sex is sex, it happens. It didn't mean much to me so I didn't think twice."

Ripples of pain shot through Chuuya's chest in violent waves, but he pushed the feeling deep into his stomach where it churned with the remains of the casserole.

"Look, I also felt bad for what I did, so I..." Dazai's eyes darted around as if the street outside would provide the answer, "I don't know, gave you what you wanted. It was easier than admitting I was in the wrong."

Chuuya scoffed, "Apology accepted I guess."

Dazai laughed, "I'm sorry. Really."

A small smile tugged at Chuuya's lips, "It's okay. I'm sorry too, for being a dick."

"You were right about one thing though," Dazai mentioned.

"What's that?"

"It was my fault that freshman kid died."

"Dazai, that wasn't your fault, I-"

"I knew him, did you know that? I knew Odasaku personally yet I still sold to him."

"You couldn't have known he'd do that, I didn't mean what I said."

"You don't get it." Dazai bit down on the inside of his lip until blood pooled on his tongue.

"Dazai?" Chuuya asked carefully.

"This is absurd," Dazai said abruptly, "Why do you have to know everything about me when I know nothing about you?"

Chuuya shook his head.

"Oh c'mon, if we're going to be friends we gotta get to know each other. With everything we've been through it's only fair."

Chuuya sighed and tapped his knuckles lightly against the glass, "Fine, what do you want to know."

"One secret, something you've never told anyone else."

Chuuya thought for a moment, the first image that came to his head was the feeling of searing pain, of blood dripping down his thighs, of a heavy body, breathing and pulsing above him. Chuuya pushed that thought far down, down until he could feel his heartbeat hammering in the souls of his feet. Then another thought came to mind. Chuuya glanced down at the mess on the floor, even though the incident happened over 2 months ago, Dazai's room was still a wreck from the day Atsushi went missing. Discarded on the floor, surrounded by a halo of glass, was the photo taken of a young Dazai and Chuuya, standing side by side, Dazai's arms wrapped tightly around the redhead.

Chuuya readjusted himself slightly, "I had a crush on you." He said confidently, "In middle school. You were the first boy I ever liked and that scared me. So yeah, I ditched you. And I feel pretty fucking terrible about it."

Dazai's nails dug into the bed of his palm. "I loved you. I was in love with you from the first time I saw you when we were kids. You were the first thing I truly wanted for myself." Dazai wanted to scream the words out, scream them until his insides were scraped raw and the neighbors knew that he had once loved a boy named Chuuya. He wanted the words to be etched into the inside of Chuuya's scalp. But he knew that if he did, then there would be no stopping him from pushing the small redhead into the mattress and ripping off his shirt, kissing the pale skin of his chest, down to his stomach, down until all of Chuuya's body had been marked by his lips.

But Dazai knew better than anyone, that just because you loved someone once, it doesn't mean they stick around in your heart forever.

Chuuya was eyeing Dazai expectantly. As if expecting the very thing he was restraining himself from doing.

"I wish..." Dazai began, not sure how to phrase his words, "We had met each other in another life. One in which I could love you."

Chuuya's eyes flickered up to Dazai's face, stricken, "Is it that hard to love me in this life?"

Dazai pursed his lips slightly, "Yes. It is."

"Well then I'm the selfish one," Chuuya laughed halfheartedly, lowering his head slightly.

"Why's that?"

"Because all I want is for you to pretend you're in a life worth loving me," When he raised his head Dazai noticed he was on the verge of tears, "That way I can fool myself into thinking I'm not completely unlovable."

"Chuuya," Dazai began, "You know I can't-"

"Just once, I want to fall asleep thinking there is someone out there who thinks I'm worth loving."

Dazai bit down on the inside of his cheek, "Just once?" He asked.

Chuuya nodded.

"Okay," Dazai muttered, he reached slowly for Chuuya's hand that rested on his knee, slipping his finger into his palm and interlocking their hands. The redhead looked at Dazai in mild surprise as he was gently pulled down onto the covers of the bed. The two resting on their side, heads pressed against the pillows.

"Just once," Dazai whispered, "You can fall asleep with the thought that I love you."

Chuuya's eyes shined with the residue of tears and the soft light dancing off the streetlamp outside, the day darkening to night, "Say it one more time."

Dazai smiled sadly, "I love you."

Chuuya scooted his head forward until his lips were inches from Dazai's, he could feel his warm breath hitch as their lips skimmed each other lightly. Chuuya hesitated before he pressed himself closer, their bodies still miles apart but their lips now being crushed to wine.

It was a soft kiss, tender, familiar. Dazai had to do everything in his power to keep his arms by his side, resisting every urge to entwine the two together. His hands itching to reach out and touch the redhead.

Chuuya's lips parted. He had never had a kiss like this before, no urgency, no heat or passion. Merely two people sharing an unspoken language they didn't yet understand.

When the two separated, Dazai pulled the blanket over them. The distance between them only just bearable.

"Goodnight," Chuuya whispered, his eyes slowly blinking shut.

Dazai studied the moonlight casting shadows below Chuuya's eyelashes, his face even more pale, freckled, and spotted with drying tears Dazai hadn't even noticed had fallen. "Goodnight," He whispered in reply, but it was too late, Chuuya's jaw had softened with sleep as his breathing evened out. Dazai wondered what he was dreaming of. Hopefully something better than this. Anything better than this.

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A/N:

I think this might be the longest chapter yet. Also somehow my favourite.

Love you guys. Glad to be back.