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It was evening when chuuya finally made his way down to the park, his wrists aching from the continuous typing of endless reports, but still he managed to finish both his workload for today and half of tomorrows, so he couldn't complain much. They hadn't set a time to meet but Chuuya hoped that he would be the first one there because he didn't like keeping people waiting, he didn't want to give them more reasons to care less about him. There was a nice breeze sweeping his bangs, showing him the stark difference between going in the afternoon and going in the evening. Sprinkled all across the green blanket and the strips of pavement were people of all ages, elderly planning to take advantage of the cooler weather to have a stroll before dinner, teenagers hanging out to escape the stress of school before going back home, and some parents bringing their young children to have some family time after work.
It was peaceful, and a reminder of what he was working for, what he was suffering for, what he was fighting for. It was an obvious result of his efforts to protect the city, and it was validating. This type of joy can only bloom in times of peace after all. At least one thing was going right in his life, since apparently fate can't even grant him the mercy of not making him guilty for making people wait for who knows how long. Fyodor was seated on the same bench he was in when they first met, dressed starkly different from the rest, with his white shirt and pants, and the ushanka and black coat made it seem like it was far colder than it actually is.
"Fyodor!"
"Nakahara san."
Walking over, Chuuya definitely did not feel his heart skip a beat at the visible joy written all over fyodor's face. He did not. He was not that pitiful that he would feel elated over someone finding happiness in his presence. He was not-
"I'm happy that you appear alright, i was worried as you seemed tired over the phone."
...he may not be so pitiful as to feel elated over that, but he would admit that hearing someone express concern for him, especially being able to spot it without him explicitly stating it aloud, did things to the butterflies in his chest, who were now twirling some waltz and beating against his ribcage.
"Hmm, what happened to your arm? Is it broken?"
Oh right, the splint.
"Yeah, it was a bit of a skirmish so, but it's fine it'll heal."
"I don't think having a cut on your forehead and a broken arm amounts to it being just a skirmish, nakahara san."
...don't ask chuuya how he managed to forget the cut that had caused so much trouble by bleeding into his eye, when he was washing his face, and when he was checking himself for other injuries. He himself didn't know how he missed it but well too late to regret it.
"Alright fine, it was a bit more than a skirmish, but don't worry about it, it's just port mafia stuff-"
He is then cut off by a close up view of anxious violet eyes as Fyodor got a closer look at the scratch, sweeping his bangs away and being far too close for Chuuya's comfort, but he didn't feel like moving away, not when it's been far too long since someone had shown such pure, unadulterated worry about him. Or rather since anyone paid enough attention to him to catch these minute details that deviated from normal. Which did strike chuuya as odd because Fyodor shouldn't know enough about him to know what is normal and what isn't, but he wasn't going to complain when he was too busy trying not to blush.
"It looks rather deep, have you tended to it already?"
"I've washed it if that's what you're asking."
"You should bandage it, it may get infected otherwise."
"Silly Chibi! If you don't cover it up, it'll get infected you know. Of course I don't expect a slug like you to understand the importance of covering wounds so I'll do it for you this time!"
Dazai's voice rang through his head, and he quickly jerked away from the black haired man, his mind slipping an image of Dazai over him for a second, but that second was enough for him to panic, his guard slammed right back up. He won't let himself fall for the same thing, he won't let himself think that he mattered again. Fyodor was probably just a nice guy with no other friends to pay attention to, no other person to give concern to, which is why he probably just had free time to ask chuuya out. No one would ask him out if they had other people to prioritise, no one sane anyway.
He tried not to think about the shocked expression Fyodor had, and the mild hint of hurt behind it as he turned away.
"We better go before all the restaurants get crowded."
There was a moment of silence where chuuya thought that perhaps Fyodor was thinking if he should just make up an excuse to leave now, but then his spiralling thoughts were short circuited as he felt long cold fingers intertwine with his.
"A fair point, nakahara san. Shall we go then? I know a fantastic ramen place just down the street."
His smile was soft and gentle, an anomaly to the things Chuuya was used to. He felt like he was on a little fluffy cloud, and oh did it make him feel just a little bit special when Fyodor looked at him like he was the only one that mattered then. Chuuya was so dead, but he supposed that since he was probably going to die anyday now, it wouldn't matter much if he let himself fall a little now.
"Bring me there then."
"Your wish is my command, nakahara san."
He had a feeling that even if Fyodor was going to bring him to hell, he would still have followed if he gave that smile to chuuya again. It wasn't as if it would deviate from his destiny much, what, with all the blood on his hands, but he definitely wouldn't mind being burnt alive in hellfire if just one more time, someone looked at him like he was their god again, like he was the most important one there was in the world. Call him simple and gullible, but really, Chuuya was never someone to think too hard about things, and in all honesty, he just wanted to hold onto this fleeting moment just a bit longer before he dove back into the role of a sacrificial pawn, used to pave the way as much as possible before it was devoured by the enemy.
"Damn you're cringey."
"Only for you, nakahara san."
So just this once, he'll ignore whatever his logic said, and settled with being like a moth to a flame, flying right into the fire in a blind search for that heat to warm his heart again, uncaring of whether or not he would be burnt alive. At least then he would die knowing what it was like to be someone's 'one and only'.
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I love chuuya and he deserves all the good things in the world, but well if the plot calls for it then I'll supply the angst ig
Also is this considered fast burn lmao I did not intend for it to go this fast but ah well
If you're deprived of something for a long time naturally you'll jump for it when it comes so
(No I'm not just making excuses for my inability to write proper romance I am not. Ok maybe I am BUT ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER)
YOU ARE READING
Am I your priority now?
FanfictionA fyoya fic where fyodor looked at chuuya and went "I can fix him" as a lie, but that actually became the truth and fyodor actually did that. My attempt at hurt/ comfort except comfort was a bit late but at least it's still there Some Chuuya angst...
