strays, bsd

─ LUCKY, soukoku

dazai osamu/nakahara chuuya
02252022

★

"What's your definition of love?" Dazai suddenly asks. The wind blows on his hair and tousles it against his face like some character in a Shoujou manga. Coupled with the sunset behind him, it feels romantic─ intimate?

This does not soften his companion. Nakahara glances at him with a weird face, eyebrows furrowed together.

Dazai sighs, exasperated. "What's your definition of love, dashuri, amore, láska─?"

"Shut up, I heard you the first time."

Nakahara walks on the sidewalk, like a normal person. He still dons his uniform for the Port Mafia, though because civilians wouldn't tell what's the difference between a Mafaosi and a person who just really liked leather, he doesn't worry walking around in broad daylight like that. He does, however, lose the black coat just because it's warmer today.

Beside him, Dazai skips on the tall wall that separated the pavement on his left and a rocky cliff on his right, truly a person wishing to dance with death. His clothes reek of the river again, Nakahara's only walking with him right now because he conveniently stumbled upon the man upside down in the water.

The breeze was strong enough to knock over someone as lean as Dazai, to break all of his bones the same way Humpty Dumpty's eggshell shattered upon impact. Not that it mattered, he was perfectly okay with dying now. Dazai vocally expressed his disdain towards the world whenever the opportunity was offered and his numerous attempts of suicide are evident with the number of bandages he carried on his body.

That fact did not stop Nakahara from offering a gloved hand to Dazai, to reassure himself that the suicidal brat wouldn't leave his fingertips so easily.

If Dazai was going to die on his watch, Nakahara had to make sure it was in the battlefield instead or maybe by his own knuckles. He wouldn't let the former die by his own means, he wouldn't.

"Careful, idiot."

He doesn't need a clear view of Dazai's face to know he had that smug grin on his face again, grinning with only one eye visible (thanks to that musty bandage of his) to look stupider.

"Don't. I'll punch the daylights out of you," Nakahara hisses.

"Aw, Chuuya-kun, do you care for my safety?" Dazai gushes. As if!

That disgusting, syrupy voice of his made Nakahara retract his hand. But he later sighs and offers it once again (not after seeing his partner teether to the edge too close for his comfort) ─ this time with Dazai gratefully accepting it.

His hands are cold, so cold he could feel it through the latex covering his hand. Dazai's hands triggered multiple guns and committed too many crimes, no amount of soap and water would wash away the blood in his palms. Though Nakahara could only wonder about how long his fingers were, the same slender fingers that would pickpocket his jacket jokingly and would gently tickle his skin after a joint mission drained all of their energy.

Don't think about that.

"...Shuddup, what brought this up?" Nakahara asks, regarding Dazai's earlier question. He didn't mean to say the first word ─ thankfully, Dazai brushed it off.

"I figured that my definition would be drastically different from yours," Dazai looked up at the sky. The red and orange hues looked good on him, but Nakahara found no reason to say that aloud. "I'm just checking if I'm right."

"What's yours first?"

"You think I have one?"

Dazai's grip on his hand loosens, suddenly stopping in his tracks to lean backwards, toward the cliff. Nakahara stumbles to keep both of them on the ground.

Dazai purses his lips as the wind blows stronger, his body too close to falling off now. He wasn't afraid of the consequences as he cackles at the sky, and his laughter only grows louder as Nakahara reprimands his happy behaviour.

"Get down from there already!" Nakahara, after clasping his free hand on Dazai's, tugs him back to his feet upward with incredulous strength. It was always amusing to Dazai how such a short person contained so much strength.

His ability cancels out Nakahara's ability since they were holding hands, but since he was a talented martial artist, Dazai's height doesn't differ the outcome and Dazai trapped arms lugs his body forward.

Nakahara sighs after he is sure Dazai had recollected himself, both of their shoes once again grinding against the aging cement. "It also doesn't justify how you keep flirting with girls, Dazai."

"I don't need justification." Dazai scoffs. Then he swiftly pulls his arm over his head, knocking over the hat he disliked so much to the ground ("bastard!"). in the process pf doing so.

"Okay! Your turn." Dazai chirps.

It took a few minutes for his thoughts to be translated into simple words, Nakahara didn't really think about his perception and thoughts on things like love, not when he had other worries with his... unknown identity before the Sheep.

"Love is... like the wind, I guess." Dazai hums, encouraging for him to say more. "You... You won't see it or anything, just feel it? It passes by your fingertips before you know it. If you're lucky, you feel it again and again, I suppose."

Nakahara doesn't notice Dazai stopped in his tracks once again. He only realizes when his hand is pulled back behind, their fingers intertwining. It feels nice, it fits each other like two conjoined puzzle pieces.

Dazai's eyes flickers to the pavement and to the cliff, an unreadable expression settled on his face. He looks at anything but the redhead before him, much to the other's irritation. "Am I lucky?"

"Huh?"

"If I'm lucky─" Dazai stares at him, the ends of his mouth curling to a small smile. It wasn't mocking like it usually was, it didn't boil Nakahara's blood like it usually did either. It was a soft and rare smile. That realization aroused an odd feeling to bubble in Nakahara's stomach, followed by a quick wave of electricity through his body. Strange.

"Can Chuuya-kun teach me about his love someday then?"

Silence settles between them, blanketing the noisy sway of the leaves occupying the space. Nakahara blinks once, then twice, before he pulls Dazai's hand along with him. He keeps their hands pressed together, especially since Dazai only chuckles and subtly traces his knuckles with his thumb.

"Are the pills you took earlier finally kicking?"

"I don't think so. In fact, I don't feel like dying right now." Dazai mumbles in response behind him. Nakahara pretends not to hear that, ignoring the growing heat in his face.