indensity | (no subject)

[Chuuya doesn't need anyone to carry him, sure--if he feels like lying here until the strength comes back to his legs, which honestly seems humiliating enough for Dazai to consider leaving him to it. But that's too easy, he tells himself; if Dazai is going to best Chuuya, it'll be through something he actually has to try at, not leaving him on the ground because he was too stupid to take a day off.

At least the answer is amusing. Over his shoulder? Dazai can do that. He might not be the strongest, but it's not like Chuuya is the tallest, either. The idea of it almost makes him want to laugh, and it's a shame Dazai won't be able to see the way Chuuya looks like that, but knowing it'll humiliate him will have to be enough.]

Alright then, since you asked for it. Come here.

[They'll need to... cooperate a bit here, Chuuya getting close enough for Dazai to bend in and scoop him forward over his shoulder. So, if Chuuya really doesn't want it, then he certainly can fight it. Dazai somehow doubts he will, though.]

[He does cooperate. He hates it, but of course he does, moving into position as much as he can, letting Dazai lift him up. It's definitely an uncomfortable position to be carried in, with his head upside down behind Dazai's back, but for once he doesn't even really complain besides some grunts of discomfort. His body still hurts, after all.

But he won't argue when Dazai is honestly annoyed. It's not just their usual badgering of each other, Dazai got to the point of honestly calling him out, and Chuuya --

He knows Dazai is right, and he hates that even more. That's why he'll accept this.]

At least hurry.

[He doesn't want to be seen like this. At least they're right by his building already. Chuuya manages to fish his keys out of his pocket, and drops them into Dazai's pocket instead, knowing he'll feel the weight of them as they fall in and recognize what it is.]

[It would be much easier to support Chuuya walking like he'd been doing before, but admittedly the fact that Chuuya should hate this is a small form of compensation. Plus, this means Dazai will get out faster.]

You're telling me to hurry like I enjoy this.

[He's trudging forward; the weight on his shoulder isn't too bad like this, but Dazai dislikes the feeling of Chuuya, warm and solid, though not as warm as he should be. What a fool, going out for a run like this, in his condition. Chuuya has always, always been a fool.

There's the feeling of keys dropping into Dazai's pocket; he shifts his weight to grab them out, fits them into the lock and feels the too-familiar click. He's picked this several times before. Actually... this might be his first time with a real key. And the steps leading towards Chuuya's apartment, the floor and the door number, all familiar. Why does Dazai know this so well?

He really doesn't have a good reason.]

[Chuuya won't comment again on the fact that Dazai clearly knows exactly where he's going. It's not like it's surprising anyway. He starts to offer directions a couple of times, but Dazai is already heading the right way before he can get the words out, so he drops it. But he does offer his door code, once they reach it, sounding relieved.

This is uncomfortable. And humiliating. He's being carried like a sack of rice. And he's almost falling asleep anyway, because his body is that desperate for rest.]

My bedroom is over there.

[He's not sure Dazai needs those directions either, but he doesn't want to think about that too much. Has Dazai been in this apartment? He moved here after Dazai left the Port Mafia.]

... You broke in before, didn't you.

[The door code hasn't changed since Dazai figured it out last time, though he hasn't mentioned that little detail to Chuuya. He's keeping it in his back pocket, in case he ever needs to get in. And... yes, Dazai has broke in before.]

Of course not. Why would I want to be in a place I might run into you?

[But he does suspiciously know where Chuuya's bedroom is, and maybe has rifled through things once or twice--because. Maybe he's moved some things around, or hidden them for the hell of it. Familiarizing yourself with the enemy's life is never a bad thing.

His shoulder is starting to ache, though, so when Dazai nudges open the door with his knee, he'll cross the floor, and deposit Chuuya on the bed just like a sack of rice. And with that, his work will be done, and Dazai can wash his hands of any sense of responsibility for this. Not that he'd had any.]

[Chuuya lets out an annoyed grunt when he lands on the bed. It's uncomfortable, though he's relieved he's no longer being carried like that. He'd prefer to just pretend it never happened.]

Whatever, I don't give a shit. Don't break in again.

[He wants a bath, but that would be a bad idea, since he'd just fall asleep in the water. He wants to strip off these wet clothes and hide under every blanket he has, but he's not sure he's able to move enough to even take off his clothes. So he's just going to lie there, exactly where Dazai dumped him.

He's watching Dazai, expecting him to leave. They've already let this drag on for too long when they should be avoiding each other like the plague.]

But there's a bottle of whisky in the living room I don't care if you take.

[As an apology. Or a thank you. Or -- something.]

[Oh, Dazai will break in again. Especially since Chuuya told him not to — though there’s no real threat behind the words, and Dazai dislikes that. He also dislikes the way Chuuya just… stays where he’s been dumped. What the hell is wrong with him? Dazai knows he’s particularly weak after using Corruption, which is an absolute pain, but Chuuya is at least his usual annoying self most of the time.

Hands on hips, Dazai stares down at him. He doesn’t want to touch what might be causing this, because that’s far too messy, and he’s been trying his hardest to avoid thinking about it. Actually, it’s impressive he’s sober right now.

The offer — yes, it’s an offer — of whisky makes him raise a brow, and then heave a frustrated sigh.]

What the hell is wrong with you? If you’re offering me something, I don’t want it. At least—

[He was going to demand Chuuya take his wet clothes off, but Dazai bites the sentence in two, realizing what that sounds like. And he’s not going there.]

[Dazai isn't leaving. Chuuya doesn't know why he isn't leaving, when he clearly should. All of this feels too uncertain, too complicated, too... Something. They're not partners, and even as partners, they hated each other. He doesn't want to feel whatever it he's feeling right now. It's like whatever fragile dynamic they've managed to maintain has just been blown apart.

He makes a gesture like he's chasing Dazai out.]

Figured you'd take it anyway. This way you don't get to be smug about stealing from me.

[That's not why at all, and they both know it. But he doesn't have the energy to come up with anything more convincing, either.]

[Being chased out doesn't work on Dazai, even if Chuuya were more capable of just a casual hand gesture to do it. (He's really piling on excuses now.) Dazai knows he has absolutely no obligation to make sure Chuuya is okay, but this lack of anger is... annoying, that's what it is, and it's irritating Dazai more by the minute.]

It's creepy when you offer me things. I'm not taking it. I'll just take something else instead.

[If he can needle Chuuya enough to get him to snap, then Dazai can leave. It seems like a reasonable plan; drag Chuuya out of whatever weird space he's in, turn things back to normal. Because things need to be normal between them. Even when Dazai had come back after disappearing for four years, Chuuya's anger had been refreshing. Yeah, that's a word for it.]

You're not using that new car you got, right?

[Chuuya wants to get angry. He wants to throw something at Dazai. He's not sure he has the energy for it, but when the hell has not having the energy for something even mattered? He's going to push himself up, and then push himself to his feet, ignoring that he feels shaky and weak and that his body is screaming at him again. He's shivering from the cold, and he's ignoring that, too.

He does almost manage a half convincing glare at Dazai.]

Do you want me to break every bone in your body?!

[It's definitely not as threatening as it would be, considering all he wants to do is fall backwards again. But he can at least try to put on a show.]

I changed my mind. You don't get to take anything.

[That's... better. Still not nearly as threatening as Chuuya normally is -- not that Dazai ever buys it -- but better than the way he'd just been lying there. Except now Dazai wants to demand he get back on the bed, because it looks like he's about to fall right back over.]

In that case, I'll take it.

[They both know, at this point, that it's a game they're playing. A performance. Dazai is prodding Chuuya to play his part, but the halfhearted performance doesn't feel right. It's even throwing Dazai off, and he doesn't sound like as much of a petty bitch as he usually does. And he doesn't even want to take the whisky.]

Honestly, I'd much rather the entertainment of seeing you try to break every bone in my body. But since you're in such a state... [Dazai nods his head towards Chuuya's bed.] Might as well not make a jog the thing that finally kills you.

[Chuuya hates being ordered around by Dazai. He hates it even more when Dazai is right. At least he didn't say the words directly, didn't try to outright tell Chuuya to get back on the bed, so when he immediately gives in and sits down on the edge, he can almost pretend it's his own choice. He would have fallen over soon if he hadn't.

But annoyance gives him strength. Or maybe he's just too cold and desperate. He manages to find the energy to pull his sweatshirt over his head, along with the t-shirt he had under, dropping them both in a pile on the floor.

It's even more obvious now that he's shaking from the cold, goosebumps covering his too pale skin.]

I'll do it next time I see you.

[He's just keeping up the threats for normalcy's sake. Because Dazai would want him to, really. He lets himself fall sideways so his head is at least in the vicinity of a pillow.]

Since you've broken in before, you know how to let yourself out.

[If Chuuya had waited to get rid of those layers until Dazai had gone, it would have been fine. Dazai wouldn't have seen the way he trembles, and could have left without issue. Now, he's seeing it, and the way Chuuya's body rests limply near the pillow but not on it, and Dazai stares with an almost disgusted look on his face. More towards himself, but absolutely towards Chuuya, too.

Wordlessly, he turns to head towards the bedroom door.]

You at least have tea in this shitty, overpriced apartment, don't you?

[He's not going to say he's making it for Chuuya's sake. It's a good day for tea, that's all, and since Dazai had to come all the way here, he might as well make himself at home. At least for a bit, long enough to make a cup of tea--or a pot of it. For himself. And if there's extra, then whatever. Chuuya can help himself to Dazai's leftovers.]

[Chuuya watches him leave. He's assuming Dazai is about to really leave, until he speaks, asking about tea of all things.]

Yeah. In the kitchen.

[Chuuya's kitchen doesn't really have much in the way of food, but he does have wine, whiskey, vodka, rum, a few other types of alcohol, as well as coffee pods, and an actual tea set that was a gift from Kouyou. There's a few dry snacks, and too much powder for protein shakes. Nothing else.

He's never learned how to cook, and usually eats out or orders food. He hasn't been especially hungry for the past few days - there's a notable lack of empty takeout boxes, compared to what there should be. But he's been sleeping too much anyway.

While Dazai is gone, he manages to kick off his pants as well, and then drag the blanket over himself. He pulls his knees up, curling into a ball to try to preserve some heat while he waits.]

[Chuuya isn't even demanding Dazai get out of his apartment and not touch anything, which is entirely out of character. Dazai tells himself it's just the lingering effects of Corruption; Chuuya's always particularly weakened afterwards, but even this doesn't seem the way he usually is. He can still run his mouth plenty even if his limbs aren't working correctly, but Chuuya is hardly doing that at all.

Dazai has an unpleasant suspicion this isn't from Corruption at all, but the events that led to Chuuya using it.

He knows the path to the kitchen, because he's been here before. Even if he hadn't, it's not difficult to get the floor plans for a building, and he does have those too. The kitchen is abysmal--mostly alcohol, a tea set that isn't at all Chuuya's taste--Dazai assumes it was a gift--and that disgusting protein shake powder. It's eye-rolling, quite honestly, but it's not like he's trying to cook a meal. Though he's likely more decent at it than Chuuya is.

Has he even been eating, though? There are none of the telltale signs of takeout, hardly any of the snacks have been touched. Dazai mutters under his breath--annoying, annoying, annoying--and sets to work boiling the water, grabbing what he figures is the most expensive tea because why not? Chuuya is leaving him alone in the kitchen; Dazai is going to touch everything he can.

It doesn't take long to fill the pot with hot water, tea leaves, and balance it on a tray. Dazai feels ridiculous with this thing--he is someone who drinks tea exclusively from mugs unless otherwise offered--but he carries it without spilling, nudging the half-open door of Chuuya's room with his hip.

He's not dead, at least.]

I thought you were gone. You're so small I could hardly see you under that blanket there.

[It's an insult without much bite, and Dazai sets the tea on the bedside table.]

[Chuuya lifts his head when Dazai returns, somehow still surprised at the sight of the tea, even though Dazai had said he was going to make it. Dazai carrying a tray like that is just a strange sight, that's all.

And he's relieved, because he'd been too cold to be able to drift off, and too exhausted to do anything about it. He could get his pyjamas, but he'd have to actually get up first. He settles for just sitting up, and then scooting over a bit to make room for Dazai next to him so he can sit on the bed, too. There are two cups on that tray, and the only other option would be for Dazai to sit on the floor.]

Shut up. I considered disappearing to get away from you.

[There's no real sting to that, either, he's clearly just saying it out of habit, and to maintain normalcy between them. As much as that's possible, because it still feels awkward, still feels... he doesn't want to think about how it feels. He wants to get these thoughts out of his head. He reaches up to rub at the bruise on his neck for a second.]

At least you got the good tea.

[Chuuya makes room, and Dazai sits without saying anything, taking one of the cups and holding it towards him. None of this is a favor. He’s only doing the bare minimum to make sure Chuuya doesn’t… die, or something, and- These excuses are growing increasingly flimsy, so Dazai is just not going to think too hard about what he’s doing.]

I’m going to get away from you as soon as I finish this tea.

[For a moment, the movement Chuuya makes directs Dazai’s attention to his neck, and there are the bruises, ones that would form to Dazai’s hands were he to wrap them around Chuuya’s neck again. He looks away, taking his own cup of tea in hand. The heat is something to distract.]

I’m surprised you had any good tea. Your kitchen is abysmal, by the way. Do you even eat?

[Not that Dazai’s is much better.]

[Chuuya can feel the warmth of him again. He cups the tea in his hand, but his attention is on the heat coming from Dazai, almost wishing he could just lean into him. He shoves that thought down hard.]

I order takeout.

[When he's hungry, but he's the type to forget to eat if he's not hungry. He does usually make sure to get a meal in after exercise, but he hasn't been able to do that, either.

He sips his tea. It's good. Dazai didn't burn the leaves, which surprises him a little, but probably shouldn't. Of course he knows how to make tea. Mori probably forced him to learn, since it's not the kind of thing Dazai would care about otherwise. Or maybe it's just another piece of random information he picked up somewhere.]

I bet your kitchen is worse.

[Dazai definitely can't afford takeout all that often, but he's also not the best at feeding himself regularly. Most of the time, he doesn't care enough to bother, but when he does, at least he can make something decent. Unlike some people.]

Perhaps if you ate better, your growth wouldn't be so stunted.

[Mori forced Dazai to learn a lot of things--all boring and pointless and annoying, too much work, but at least he knows how to make decent tea. It's come in handy a couple of times, and Dazai hasn't even snuck in anything poisonous this time around. He'll pat himself on the back for making a decent pot, but all of that is really just something to distract from the fact that he's sitting on Chuuya's bed, drinking tea from fancy cups, and they're hardly bickering.

At least Dazai is trying. Chuuya is the one whose attempts are falling flat.]

My kitchen is... [Dazai has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but it actually is worse than Chuuya's. Less alcohol, more empty bottles. Particularly this week. Nobody has come to drag him out of his apartment and force him to clean just yet--it'll probably take a few more days--but at least he has food in there somewhere. Cup noodles count as food.] Excellent. Much better than your shitty kitchen.

[Of course it comes back to that. At least mentioning his height is an easy way to rile Chuuya up, no matter how exhausted he is. He manages to throw a sideways kick at Dazai's leg.

It's pretty weak, but the attempt is there.]

Shut up! It's not stunted!

[He knows he's short, but mostly Dazai is just too tall.

The conversation is slowly getting easier. He's sitting, resting, he's feeling a little bit warmer, a little less like he's seconds from passing out. That weird mood is still there, overshadowing his exhaustion, but he's always been stubborn about hiding his moods when they're such an obvious weakness. He might not be good at it, but he tries.

And these are arguments they've had so many times that he doesn't have to think about what he's saying.]

I bet it's more of a trash pile than a kitchen.

[And they're no longer talking about Chuuya's eating habits. Good.]

[That's slightly better, though the kick feels like basically nothing. Still, there's more of Chuuya in his voice; it's less dull, more annoying. It's a voice that will probably haunt Dazai's worst dreams forever, but it's better than how he'd sounded before. There's still something, an undercurrent, but Dazai trusts it will go away with time.

They always get back to how they've been since they met, after all. Nothing changes. They'll go through these same old insults, and it's oddly comforting.]

Maybe I ought to take a lesson from you and live off of nothing but takeout, protein shakes, and wine. I've always wanted to be a head smaller than I am. [Dazai warms his tea with more from the pot, and wordlessly offers Chuuya a refill. This is the nicest he's ever going to be, so Chuuya had better not mention it, ever, or he'll regret it. They just... have to not ever talk about this again. Add it to the list of things they'll pretend never happened. Simple!]

If you want to be shorter, I've offered to cut your legs off before.

[He'd hit Dazai again, but they're both drinking tea. At least that's his excuse, but really, he's not in the mood for it. He holds his cup out for Dazai to refill it, appreciating the warmth, and takes a moment to just sip it while he tries to make up his mind about something.

He knows they're not supposed to talk about this.

They've always had that agreement. They never actually officially made any agreement, but they've both always known it's there, since the moment they met. They don't talk about anything. They fight and they bicker and they agree that they hate each other, and if anything happens to indicate otherwise, they both pretend that it didn't. Because they do hate each other. They have to.]

Can I ask you something?

[He might be about to break their agreement.]

[Dazai has hips cup to his lips, a sip of warm tea on his tongue, when Chuuya asks. It’s an actual question rather than an insult, and this is rare; Chuuya never asks before doing something, and the unfamiliarity of this makes Dazai’s body stiffen. He doesn’t like situations he doesn’t know how to read… but no, that’s not it. He’s concerned he can read this, and that Chuuya is going to say something they can’t just forget about.]

Since when have you asked my permission to do anything?

[It’s not a no, which is as good as a yes. Dazai knows no is exactly what he should be saying, that he ought to be getting up and walking out of here, because he doesn’t want to answer whatever Chuuya wants to ask. He knows, even without hearing what it is.

They don’t need to discuss this. Chuuya really can’t be stupid enough to bring it up, can he?]

[He really wouldn't normally ask permission, but this feels like crossing a line, and he doesn't like it. If Dazai had objected, he would have let it go immediately. It would have been easier.

And he has a lot of questions he wants to ask. It's difficult to decide which one seems more important... Part of him wants to talk about how it all felt, being underneath Dazai like that, choked out by him, trusting him. He needs to know how Dazai felt about it all, too, but that wouldn't be fair, he won't be that much of a dick, and Dazai wouldn't give a straight answer anyway. He'd say he hated it.

And it's a betrayal that Chuuya didn't.]

Would you do it again?

[It's... Not what he'd been planning to ask. And he doesn't mean right now, obviously. Just in general.]

[Dazai is silent for a good moment, watching Chuuya with an unreadable expression. Not surprise, nor disgust. Blank, but also not. It's the sort of expression Dazai makes when he's in one of his moods, when he's thinking too much about things too far in the past. And... he doesn't quite understand the question.

Here is where he could deflect, make a stupid joke, refuse to answer. He could get up and leave. There are so many thing Dazai could do to alter the outcome of this, to keep things normal between them, and even he isn't sure what he'll decide until he does it, swirling the tea in the cup.]

Would I choke you again? Or fuck you again?

[He looks up from the amber liquid, watching Chuuya. There's some weird thing between them that has been there before and never really gone away; this is one of the rare occasions Dazai isn't pushing it under layers and layers of self-hatred and denial, letting it air out, but he's waiting for the split second he needs to deny it again.]