Now I'm changed {soukoku}

♡ Chapter Eight ♡

Another Crack.

"In the Mafia maybe, I'm not an eighteen-year-old disappointment anymore"
"I'd beg to fucking differ, you act like you're different but deep inside your still that cold-blooded maniac you were!"

Crack

"Will you shut up and stop talking?" Dazai muttered, turning his sharp gaze away from Chuuya
"All this is because we were drunk. Nothing would have happened if we weren't." Chuuya stared at him incredulously
"Didn't you understand that this isn't the problem?"
"THEN WHAT IS THE FUCKING PROBLEM?!? Dazai shouted
"THE FACT I COULD HAVE HURT YOU AND I WOULDN'T HAVE A CLUE!"
"Are you deaf? You didn't hurt me! if it makes you feel better I was the one who made the first move."
"Yeah right! You could say that and completely lie to me."
"What am I going gain from lying to you about this? I said just drop it."

Chuuya threw his arms upwards in exasperation, letting out a groan of contained anger
"Just when I was starting to fucking hate you less you go and pull shit like this, God fucking damn it Dazai. I really fucking hate you."

Shatter.

The mask completely cracked and crumbled to the floor, scattering his cold hard stare all over the floor. A look of unfamiliar hopelessness, betrayal and sadness was ever-present on Dazai's face, even Chuuya in all of his rage recognised the rare look of hurt on the brunet's face, it was the first droplet of guilt that would end up building up into an entire ocean of it.

"I see." Dazai spoke back in barely a whisper his voice cracking slightly, the tenderness and vulnerability caught Chuuya off guard, making him unable to retaliate, all he could do was watch as the taller walked out of the room and into the bedroom, swiftly and quietly, closing the door incredibly gently. Leaving Chuuya feeling bewildered in the living room.

Chuuya sat down on the couch, angrily snatching a spare packet of cigarettes, not even caring to go onto the balcony to smoke, the door was open if the smoke chose to stay inside that was its problem, not his. Then after hearing the shower and a loud thud Dazai emerged from the bedroom fully clad in his usual attire, hiding the limp he still had as best he could. Chuuya heard him walk across the to the front door
"Where are you going?" He questioned though he didn't turn to look at him.
"Somewhere, where it seems no one hates me." Dazai whispered before closing the door behind him.

The ginger sighed half in frustration half in guilt at the quietness of the apartment. He wasn't mad at Dazai at all, he was mad at himself and just as he had done when he was younger he channelled that anger towards Dazai and the more time passed the worse he felt.

With a wavering sigh, he decided that he didn't want to die of lung cancer so he got up and extinguished his fourteenth cigarette, then threw it in the bin, going to his bedroom to take his mind off of everything and clean.

As he stood at the doorway, his eyes glanced around the room through to figure out where to start. Coincidentally the first thing his eyes met was his shirt that lay sprawled out on the floor just by the edge of the bed

"What?"
"You're cute"
"I think you're the cute one"
"Yeah that's why I'm topping"

Chuuya clutched his head a sharp pain accompanying what appeared to be something that had happened last night. He saw a vivid image of Dazai laughing lightly underneath him, with nothing but his bandages on.