strays, bsd

─ KISSES FROM YOU, soukoku

dazai osamu/nakahara chuuya
06052022

★

Nakahara Chuuya, 22, does not believe in fate ─ nor he does not believe in coincidences either. Especially if it regards a young man named Dazai Osamu, a man who Nakahara believes can manipulate any encounter if he wants to.

It's just way too perfect, okay? It's already rare for a Port Mafia executive to be walking around in an area full of civilians. Sure, Nakahara isn't donning his normal work attire (not that civilians would know the difference between how Mafiosi dress versus people who had too much money on their hands), and he's not here for business either ─ but that's why it feels too perfect!

Across him is former Mafia executive (also notably her ex-partner, whether it was romantic or business, Nakahara doesn't know himself) Dazai, an unreadable expression on his face. His hair is shorter than the last time they've crossed paths, and his tan trenchcoat is nowhere to be seen, exposing the rolled-up sleeves and bandaged arms.

(Nakahara internally pats his back for not blushing, he'd rather die than admit Dazai looks rather cute with the slight changes.)

The thought dies out quickly soon though, especially when Dazai pretends to take notice of Nakahara and dramatically clasps a hand to his mouth in surprise. Nakahara could already hear the "you're so short, I didn't see you there!"

"Chuuya-kun?!" He shrieks instead and points an accusing finger at him. In his palm are crumbled up bills of yen. "Stop following me!"

"Ha?!" Nakahara bends his knees as if to ready herself for a fight, though he doesn't lift a leg from where he stands. Not here ─ not when innocent people are here.

Dazai whines: "I know I said you'll be my dog for life but─!"

"Oi, shut up!" With a twitching eye, Nakahara stomps over to Dazai, before he tries to sweep his legs off the ground.

Keyword, tries. Dazai smoothly evades his attack, the smug grin crinkling his eyes. He tuts, wagging a finger in Nakahara's face as if he was a dog.

"Dogs don't attack their owners, Chuuya-kun."

"Shut up, shut up!" Nakahara hopes smoke wasn't rising from his ears with how fucking annoying Dazai is being. He pinches the bridge of his nose, leaning back to rest his free hand on his hip. "It's fucking Saturday, Shitty Dazai. Please."

"Oh?" Dazai slides his finger on the brim of his fedora and Nakahara grimaces to counter the lump forming in his throat. It doesn't help when Dazai suddenly invades his personal space, their noses barely touching as he spoke. "Then I take that means Chuuya-kun is free right now?"

"I never said that?!" Nakahara protests but of course, his words escape Dazai's ears one way out of the other as soon as he heard them, proven by how the brunette just waves his hands dismissively and links their arms together. "Oi─!"

"How about a few rounds then?" Dazai cuts him off, his hand smoothly guiding Nakahara inside the ─ is this the fucking arcade?

Not just any arcade too, what the fuck. It's the same one they frequented from when they were fifteen, the one where Nakahara lost the worst bet of his life and got dubbed as Dazai's dog for life. If Nakahara flinched at the realization, Dazai doesn't point it out and only drags him to one of the machines.