BASED OFF OF BSD.

   BEGINNING.

Three hours later, both of them were standing in front of an abandoned warehouse.

Dazai stretched.

Chuuya adjusted his gloves.

The mission itself wasn't difficult.

Smugglers.

Illegal ability weapons.

Nothing extraordinary.

Which meant they should have known better.

Nothing involving them was ever ordinary.

The warehouse doors exploded inward.

Literally.

Because Chuuya had gotten impatient.

"YOU COULD HAVE KNOCKED!" Dazai yelled.

"They had guns."

"And?"

"And I had momentum."

"Fair."

The men inside panicked.

One screamed.

Another dropped his weapon.

And a third looked like he'd already accepted whatever god he believed in.

"MONSTER!"

Chuuya frowned.

"Rude."

Dazai smiled pleasantly.

"Actually, he's much shorter in person."

"DAZAI."

Bullets flew.

Gravity answered.

The entire room tilted.

Crates rose into the air.

Weapons flew from hands.

Men screamed.

And through all of it, Dazai watched with that familiar expression.

Not fear.

Not awe.

Just trust.

Absolute trust.

The kind that said:

I've seen this a thousand times.

And I'll see it a thousand more.

The fight ended in minutes.

Silence settled over the ruined warehouse.

Chuuya exhaled.

"Done."

"Beautiful as always."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious."

"Shut up harder."

Dazai laughed.

Then—

Bang.

A single gunshot.

Neither had noticed the man hiding beneath the rubble.

Chuuya turned.

Too late.

But someone else moved first.

Dazai.

The bullet struck his shoulder.

Everything froze.

The gunman collapsed immediately after.

The air itself became heavy.

Terrifyingly heavy.

Dazai blinked.

Then looked down.

"Oh."

Blood spread across his coat.

For the first time in years, Chuuya felt his heart stop.

"Dazai."

"I'm okay."

"Dazai."

"It's not that bad."

"Dazai."

His voice cracked.

Just slightly.

Enough.

Enough for Dazai to stop joking.

The smile disappeared.

Completely.

"...Chuuya?"

The redhead was trembling.

Not from anger.

Not from Corruption.

Fear.

Pure fear.

"You idiot."

His voice came out quiet.

"You absolute idiot."

"Chuuya—"

"WHY?"

The warehouse shook.

Metal groaned.

Broken crates lifted into the air.

"DON'T DO THAT!"

Dazai stared.

Actually stared.

Because Chuuya Nakahara was yelling.

And his eyes—

His eyes looked terrified.

Not angry.

Terrified.

"Damn it, Dazai!"

His voice broke again.

"You don't just throw yourself in front of bullets!"

"It wasn't lethal."

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!"

Silence.

Everything floated around them.

Dazai had seen Chuuya furious.

Annoyed.

Embarrassed.

Drunk.

Smug.

Arrogant.

But he'd almost never seen this.

Someone scared of losing him.

And somehow—

Somehow that hurt more than the bullet.

Slowly, carefully, he reached out with his uninjured arm.

"Chuuya."

"Shut up."

"Chuuya."

"Shut up."

"Chuuya."

"...What?"

His voice was quieter now.

Dazai smiled.

Small.

Real.

"I know."

The gravity around them faded.

"I know."

Chuuya looked away.

"Dumbass."

"That's fair."

"You scared me."

Another small smile.

"I know."

"And don't smile."

"I can't help it."

"You're bleeding."

"I've bled before."

"Not helping."

Dazai laughed softly.

Then something impossible happened.

Chuuya grabbed his hand.

Not because he was thinking.

Not because he wanted to.

Not because he had some dramatic realization.

He just did.

And immediately regretted existing.

"...Don't make this weird."

Dazai looked down at their hands.

Then back up.

His eyes widened slightly.

Before softening.

"I wasn't going to."

For once.

For one miraculous moment in history.

Osamu Dazai did not tease him.

He simply squeezed his hand.

Gentle.

Warm.

And under the afternoon sunlight spilling through the broken ceiling, surrounded by destruction they'd caused together as always, neither said another word.

Because some things, even between them, didn't need words.

Not yet.

                  END