Text"Do you think Chuuya deserves your forgiveness?"
Dazai stares at the man across from him. He's got a ridiculous mustache, and he's wearing the most ostentatious bowler hat Dazai has ever seen. He's paying to get asked these questions. He might as well answer.
"Yes." Dazai says, and then pauses. "No? I don't know!"
He buries his face in his hands, exasperated with himself.
More than anything, Dazai wants to forgive Chuuya. He wants nothing more than to fall back into Chuuya's arms like they were before. Before all of this. Before Dazai messed everything up.
No. He's not allowed to think like that.
"Just tell me what to do." Dazai mutters. "Isn't that what I'm paying you for, anyways?"
"No." The therapist tells him, tapping his pencil against the notepad he's holding. "Not at all. I'm not allowed to tell you what you should and shouldn't do. I'm here to help you learn skills that will make making those decisions by yourself easier."
"It's not working." Dazai snaps, looking up from his hands, and then he slumps, all the fight leaving his body. He's too tired to really be angry at all.
"I think it's working." His therapist says. "I think you've improved a lot. You've come a long way from the day you overdosed, don't you think?"
Dazai flinches.
"I don't want to talk about that." He says, sullenly.
"Then we won't." The bowler hat dips as the man nods his agreement. "Gives you something to think about, though. Whether you think he deserves it or not."
He checks his watch and puts the notepad down.
"That's all the time we have for today." he says. "Do you remember your homework, Dazai?"
Dazai sighs, getting to his feet.
"Journal more, or whatever." he mutters. "And think about Chuuya."
God knows he does that enough already.
"You're seeing him today, right?" His therapist asks. When Dazai nods, he smiles. "Good. Tell me all about it next time, won't you?"
Dazai sighs again as he walks to the door.
"See you next week, Natsume." He says, and shuts the door behind him.
He's late to their meeting. His session with Natsume was longer than usual, because Dazai had gotten caught up explaining everything all over again. He runs as fast as he can, and he's still late, even though it's only by ten minutes.
He gives himself thirty seconds outside the door of the coffee shop to catch his breath before he feels ready to open the door and step inside. He's jittery, nerves alight with static at just the idea of seeing Chuuya again, and his mouth is dry. Dazai walks to their corner, and his heart stops when he sees him.
Chuuya. Red hair falling into his eyes, lips pursed in a pout as he glares at his phone. Dazai could kiss him. He wants to, but he won't let himself. Chuuya doesn't even like him like that, anyway. There's a pair of round, gold rimmed glasses on the bridge of Chuuya's nose. At that moment, Dazai's phone buzzes.
slug 🐌
where r u.
this is illegal im calling
my mom on u.
Dazai can't help the giggle that escapes his lips. He covers his mouth, but it's too late. Chuuya has heard him.
Chuuya looks up, startled, and when he sees Dazai, he breaks into a bright smile, teeth showing. It's breathtaking. It makes Dazai remember why he fell for Chuuya in the first place. Chuuya schools his face into an expression of nonchalance, but he keeps biting his lip to keep from smiling.
"Hey." Dazai says, shoving his phone in his pocket and sliding into the seat opposite of Chuuya.
"Hey," Chuuya echoes, that same smile breaking through again before he stifles it. "I didn't know if you were coming or not."
Dazai shrugs.
"Sorry," He murmurs. "Therapy ran late. You know how it is."
"Oh." Chuuya says, and blinks. "I didn't know, actually. How did it go?"
Dazai grimaces.
"Oh, you know." he trails off, tapping his fingers against the table. "He asked questions, I answered them. If I wanted to. Same old."
"How have you been?" Chuuya blurts out, and then cringes. "I mean, I know it's only been a few days, but… How have you been?"
Dazai lets out a huff of laughter and leans forward.
"Take a good look and tell me what you think." he teases. "I don't look much better than I did then."
"You look beautiful." Chuuya murmurs, and Dazai blinks in surprise. As if realizing what he's said, Chuuya waves his hands, stammering. "I mean, you always do. You've always been attractive. Um, objectively."
Dazai laughs, startled, leaning back in his seat again. Chuuya's face does something strange, then. His eyes mist over, slightly, going a bit foggy.
"I thought we were both done with lying." Dazai says. Immediately, the expression on Chuuya's face gives way to offense.
"I'm not lying!" he protests. "I've always thought you were, you know. Good looking."
Dazai can feel his face soften despite himself. Vulnerability doesn't look good on him, and he knows that. Still, Chuuya's lips part slightly, staring like it's something he's missed.
"I am sorry." Dazai says quietly. "For what it's worth. If it's worth anything at all."
"It is." Chuuya agrees. "It is worth something. It's worth a lot. But you already apologized. You don't have to do it again."
Dazai winces.
"I should apologize for that, too." he murmurs. "That was pretty messed up of me. I mean, what if I hadn't made it, and that was the last thing…" He trails off when he notices Chuuya's eyes starting to glisten, like he's tearing up. Panic surges through him. "Hey, it's fine. I'm fine. Please don't cry."
Chuuya sniffles.
"Don't say that." he says. "Don't talk about that, I don't want to think about that. If you had died, I never would have forgiven myself, you know?"
Dazai starts to reach out, his hand hovering hesitantly over Chuuya's for just a moment before he lets it drop. The touch is electric. He's missed it. Chuuya is warm, and real, and good. Everything Dazai isn't.
He shakes himself out of that thought process. He's doing better. He is.
"I'm sorry." he says. "I didn't mean to upset you. I guess… I guess we both fucked up pretty badly, huh?"
"I guess so." Chuuya gives him a watery smile. "Mostly me, though."
That makes Dazai laugh again, quiet and hidden. He doesn't want to be heard. He doesn't want to be seen, or noticed, or perceived by anyone at all. Anyone but Chuuya. Because Chuuya will notice. And he does.
"I missed your laugh," he whispers. "Just you, actually. I missed you. A lot."
Dazai smiles, somewhat pained.
"Why didn't you pick up?" he forces himself to ask. He almost doesn't want to know. The idea that Chuuya might have been ignoring him has dug its way into the back of his skull and sat there for far too long.
Chuuya looks away.
"This is going to sound really stupid," He says. "But during that time I didn't text anyone. No one at all. Not even my mom. Which was shitty, I know, but I didn't know anyone was reaching out to me either. My phone was in airplane mode."
Dazai can't help it. He bursts out laughing, louder than he wants to.
"That is stupid." he agrees, as a smile overtakes Chuuya's face. "What the hell? Do you know just how many times I called you?"
It's said playfully, not intended to be a jab at all, but Chuuya's face drops instantly.
"Of course I do," he says. "Now, at least. I probably listened to that voicemail a hundred times just to hear your voice."
That sobers Dazai up. His smile becomes something more tame. He thinks, for a moment, that he might seem like one of those horses on that carousel in Paris, docile and quiet, all the fire gone from his eyes, from his personality.
"I only called so many times so I could hear you say your name," he admits. "After a while, I figured out that you weren't going to pick up. So when I wanted to hear your voice again, I would just call."
"I'm sorry." Chuuya says, his voice breaking. He clears his throat and smiles. "I really thought you just didn't care. I know I said I'd break your nose, but I wasn't expecting you to give up so easily. You didn't, but I didn't know that. I'm sorry."
Dazai just shakes his head.
"It's whatever." he replies, and matches Chuuya's smile. He hopes he doesn't look too terrible. "I can't forgive you yet, but don't beat yourself up over it, okay? It happened. It sucked. We're moving on."
Chuuya nods hurriedly.
"Not to break up your couple's therapy session or anything," A tired voice interrupts, and Dazai nearly jumps, turning over his shoulder to see a boy with eyebags almost as dark as his own. "But you know you have to buy something if you're going to sit here, right?"
There's a clatter as Chuuya jumps out of his seat, almost knocking over the chair.
"Shit, you're right." he says, and clears his throat again. His face is red and flushed from embarrassment. It's cute. Dazai really has to stop thinking things like that. "We'll be right there. Sorry about that."
Dazai gets up from his seat to follow him, trailing slightly behind. He still feels sluggish, emotionally drained from his session with Natsume.
They get up to the counter and Chuuya pulls out his wallet. Dazai can't help but smile at that. He knows Chuuya isn't trying to buy his forgiveness, this time. He's just trying to make it up to Dazai in a way he knows how. Dazai had done it, too, before.
Chuuya stands there for a moment, his brow furrowed as he concentrates.
"Are you getting something different this time?" Dazai asks, curious. He pretends he isn't watching the slightest change of expression on Chuuya's face. He pretends he doesn't want to kiss his forehead to clear that wrinkle away. "You'll get worry lines." He teases, instead.
Chuuya looks up to glare at him.
"No," He says. "Give me a minute. I'm thinking."
"About what?" Dazai laughs, bewildered. "You always get the same thing!"
"I got it!" Chuuya exclaims. He puts his hand on the counter. The boy from earlier stares on, tiredly. "I'll have a large black coffee, and a hot chocolate. Make that one a large, too." He recites.
Dazai stares at him, dumbstruck. Word for word. Chuuya has just given their order word for word, exactly what Dazai had said the first time they visited this coffee shop. Chuuya turns to look at him and blows a few strands of hair away from his own face.
"Did I get it right?" he asks, and Dazai can't help the grin that overtakes his features.
"Yeah." It comes out breathless, not as strong as he'd expected it to. Dazai is still smiling when he continues speaking. "Yeah, Chuuya, you got it."
Chuuya beams.
The boy at the cash register rolls his eyes.
"We get it, you're in love." he says. "Hurry up and pay so I can get to the next customer."
Chuuya glares at him, but forks over the money. As they're leaving the line to wait for their drinks, he calls out, "Pissy cause you're single?"
Dazai lets out a startled laugh, not expecting that at all. Chuuya has always been so adamant about denying any allegations that they were together. He wonders what changed in the months they were apart.
The cashier levels Chuuya a similar glare.
"No, actually," he says. "My boyfriend's a florist. My shift ends in ten minutes, and I'd like to get home to see him."
Chuuya makes a grumbling noise, and walks over to the tip jar to drop a few bills in.
"I'm physically incapable of not supporting the gays." he mutters, barely audible to Dazai's ears. The cashier turns around, and Chuuya flips him off. "Even if they're assholes."
Dazai covers his mouth to stifle his laughter.
"You're going to get us kicked out of our coffee shop."
Our coffee shop. Ours. He freezes as soon as the words come out of his mouth. He'd set the rules, he doesn't want to be the one to break them by overstepping Chuuya's boundaries. But Chuuya just gives him an unimpressed glance.
"So we'll find somewhere else." he says. "And make that one ours, too."
Ours, ours, ours.
The words thud in Dazai's head like his heart in his chest, loud and almost racing. He has to shake it off, feeling jittery in the face of things. Like he's seeing a whole side of Chuuya he'd never gotten to see before.
It's refreshing.
It's endearing.
It makes him want to hold onto Chuuya and never let go, nest in the crook of his neck, feel Chuuya's heart beat in time with his.
It makes him hurt, because he knows he can't have that. He never will.
Chuuya has left an imprint on his skin, a burning brand that even a knife couldn't cut out. His throat hurts just thinking about it, and his eyes sting. When his vision clears, Chuuya is looking at him with a crestfallen expression.
"Sorry," He says, and Dazai watches his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. "I didn't mean to, you know. Overstep."
Dazai forces a smile that, although isn't large, feels like it tears the corners of his mouth from the effort it takes.
"You're fine." he murmurs. Then he clears his throat, building up all the courage he has tucked away in his chest to continue speaking. It feels like dragging his feet to even open his mouth, some days. "I still don't know how you remembered that. Word for word. That's…"
He trails off, unable to finish whatever thought he was trying to convey. His voice gives up on him before he's even halfway there.
"Impressive?" Chuuya asks, raising an eyebrow. "You remembered, too. I guess that's not very surprising, though, smart guy."
Chuuya flashes him a toothy grin, and even though it looks genuine, Dazai winces at the implication. Immediately, Chuuya grimaces.
"Sorry. That came out… wrong." He wrings his hands nervously. "I promise I'm working on that. I really didn't mean anything by it, and we can just… avoid talking about that, if you want."
Dazai shakes his head firmly.
"No," He says. "We should be able to talk about it."
The cashier calls out their order, and out of habit, Dazai steps forward to grab their drinks. Coffee in his right hand, hot chocolate in his left. Because seemingly without knowing it, Chuuya always gravitates to his blind side, like he's looking out for Dazai in a way that Dazai can't do for himself.
At another point in time, Dazai might have felt that it was out of pity. Now, even after their fight, he knows Chuuya just happens to take care of people around him without realizing. Dazai is one of those people. Was.
But Chuuya gets there first, reaching out and snatching the cardboard cups from the counter.
"I paid," He declares. "Therefore I have to carry the drinks. Today is opposite day."
"Is it?" Dazai asks, unable to help the smile that turns up at the corners of his lips. "Who decided that? Is it a national holiday? Should I mark my calendar?"
Chuuya glares at him, and they make their way back over to their seats. When he sets the drinks down, Chuuya reaches over to punch Dazai lightly in the shoulder.
"I have been wanting to do that for so long." he says. "I decided. I said so, so it is."
"Sorry to keep you waiting." Dazai replies, smiling softly. He takes a sip of his coffee, and immediately coughs. "Hot."
Chuuya laughs, bright and startled, and it makes Dazai's chest swell like a balloon, filling up with helium at light speed, a reaction that only Chuuya has ever been able to evoke from him.
Before Chuuya, love didn't exist to Dazai. Now it does, and it hurts. But it exists all the same.
"Did you burn your tongue?" Chuuya asks, trying to stifle his giggling.
"Roof of my mouth." Dazai complains. "That's even worse. The texture is gonna be weird all day."
Chuuya smiles at him again. It's sunshine. Suddenly, it's hard for Dazai to swallow at all. The roof of his mouth still stings. He's got to stop thinking things like that. It's not going to get him anywhere. He needs to get over Chuuya as soon as possible, and then they can be friends again.
I miss you, I love you. Goodnight.
Dazai clears his throat and smiles back.
He shouldn't have said that, then. He's just glad Chuuya isn't acting strangely because of it. The only reason he'd said it at all is because he thought he'd never get a second chance.
"You're ridiculous." Chuuya says, picking up his hot chocolate and taking a small sip. "That's how it's done. What did you even think you were doing, drinking it so fast?"
"You're so mean to me." Dazai whines, kicking at Chuuya's feet under the table. It's easy to fall back into their previous dynamic. It shouldn't be. The thought is terrifying as it ricochets around Dazai's head.
"If I was actually being mean, I'd expect you to tell me." Chuuya says, his voice more somber now. "You would, wouldn't you?"
Dazai sucks his lower lip into his mouth, worrying it between his teeth. He's hyper-aware of Chuuya's eyes watching him as he does it. Old habits die hard. Bad habits, too. Chuuya could never be a bad habit. And Dazai doesn't want what they had once to die out. That's why he's here right now, giving Chuuya a second chance to prove himself.
"Maybe." he mumbles, releasing his lip. He's torn at the skin again, and while the tang of blood is only miniscule against his tongue, he tastes it all the same.
In an instant, Chuuya is reaching across the table and wiping it away with his thumb. It catches on Dazai's lip, lingers there for a moment as they both freeze, eyes wide. Then Chuuya snatches his hand back.
"Sorry," he hurries to say. "Sorry, um. You just always do that. And it was bleeding."
"It's fine." Dazai replies, clearing his throat to fill the silence that follows. His own thumb comes up absent-mindedly to rub at the spot he'd bitten. The spot where Chuuya had touched him. That feeling never gets old. When he realizes what he's doing, he drops his hand back onto the table and smiles. "Don't worry about it."
One of his fingers scratches at the table, his fingernail scraping gently against the wood. It keeps him busy. It gives him something to do when his thoughts get too loud.
Pinching his skin used to do that, too. The pain had cleared away any insecurities that ran too deep, too fast. When he was hospitalized, they'd told him that counts as self-harm. Dazai cringes just thinking about it. He's not supposed to do things like that anymore.
"So…" Chuuya starts, and Dazai finds himself letting out a huff of laughter. It's almost a relief, the fact that Chuuya feels just as awkward as he does. He's not just messing all of this up by himself. "What do you want to do next?"
Dazai blinks in surprise.
"Next?" he asks, feeling oddly dumb. His brain has always been too fast for his mouth to keep up with, but now he feels like it's crawling at a snail's pace. He doesn't get what Chuuya could possibly mean. To make it worse, Chuuya gives him a look that says it's probably entirely obvious what he's trying to say.
"Of course." Chuuya says, raising an eyebrow. Dazai's tongue feels thick in his mouth, heavy like lead. He couldn't find the words to speak if he tried.Luckily, he doesn't have to. "You didn't think we'd just sit and have coffee all day, right?"
"I don't know." Dazai mutters, swallowing hard. He looks down at the polished wood of the table, his hair falling into his eyes and obscuring what little vision he has left. "What else is there to do? Besides," he adds, looking back up. His mouth quirks up into a subtle smirk. "I'm the only one drinking coffee out of the two of us."
"Smartass." Chuuya grumbles. "I'm telling you hot chocolate is just as valid a drink choice as straight black coffee."
"So from all your previous comments about my taste in coffee, not at all?" Dazai teases.
"Shut up." Chuuya says, his voice pitching into a slight whine. "God, you always have to be right about everything."
"I don't have to be," Dazai clarifies. Then he grins. "I just am."
Chuuya kicks his shin under the table and Dazai jolts, his knee coming up to hit against the wooden underside.
"I forgot how painful that is." he says, wincing. "You don't hold back, huh?"
Chuuya pauses.
"Tell me if I'm actually hurting you." he commands. "Like, right now. If I'm hurting you right now then you have to let me know."
Dazai's shoulders shake as he tries to contain his laughter, but it spills out anyway. He curls over the table with the force of it, almost knocking over his cup.
"I'm not fragile," he says, when he's finally able to speak. His lips press into a thin line to hide his smile. "You don't have to treat me like I'm made of glass. I'll be okay."
When Chuuya just glares at him, he gives in.
"Okay, fine." Dazai relents. "You're not hurting me. Can we get back to talking about what we're doing next? Please?"
Chuuya looks skeptical, but nods.
"Fine." he says. "If you don't have any opinions, then I was thinking… We could go to the arcade again."
Time seems to freeze for a moment. Dazai remembers the last time they did that. And the first. He remembers the first time all too well, Chuuya's lips pressing softly against his cheek, feather-light. And again, on his birthday. The first birthday he'd had that was really, truly enjoyable . That he can remember, at least.
"The arcade?" Dazai asks, wondering if by some chance he's misheard. He knows he hasn't. "You want to go… to the arcade."
Chuuya nods.
"If that's okay with you, then yeah." he says.
"Why?" Dazai can't help but sound as bewildered as he feels. Why there?
For some reason Dazai can't begin to comprehend, Chuuya's cheeks redden. He looks away, unable to meet Dazai's eyes.
"Just 'cause." he mutters. He looks back up, seemingly having regained his confidence from before. "I figured it would fill the time we have together. Plus, you know. Good times." The last two words are said quietly as Chuuya's confidence peters out again.
Good times.
He's not wrong. Those times were some of the best Dazai has ever had. But those times are gone. Dazai is reluctant to form new memories, as if they might tarnish the old ones.
"Okay," he agrees quietly, despite himself. "We can go to the arcade."
Chuuya blinks at him, picking up his hot chocolate and gulping the rest of it down. He slams the cup down on the table, not too hard, but hard enough that the barista from before gives them a glare from across the room.
"Oh, fuck off." Chuuya groans. It's quiet enough that he can't be heard. Then he gets out of his chair, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. "Come on, then. Let's go."
"Right now?" Dazai asks, but he's already rising to his feet, his coffee cup in hand.
"Right now." Chuuya nods. He holds out his free hand, but then falters, dropping it back to his side.
Dazai's heart sinks a little bit in his chest.
A few months ago, they would have held hands. Now, they're just strangers. Strangers who know too much about each other to stay just that. That's okay. They can get there. Dazai hopes they can get there.
He offers Chuuya a wordless smile and nothing more. Chuuya had always made it seem like such a chore to hold Dazai's hand, and even though Dazai knows that he didn't mean it, his heart swells at the thought that this time Chuuya really wants to. Dazai wants it, too. But he doesn't say anything about it, awkwardly shoving his hands into his coat pockets.
"Okay." he says softly. "I'm ready when you are."
"I'm ready." Chuuya replies, following Dazai's example and sticking his hands in his pockets. Good. Like this, neither of them are as easily tempted as before.
They walk side by side, matching each other's pace. Their shoulders brush the entire time. It's as close as Dazai will let himself get.
It's enough. Like this, it's enough.
The arcade has seen better days. It used to appear bright and welcoming, but now it seems lonely. It feels sad. Maybe that's just Dazai projecting. He hesitates to enter after Chuuya. He doesn't want to keep Chuuya waiting, but his feet feel like they're sinking in quicksand. He's rooted in place like a months old piece of chewing gum under a park bench.
"Hey, are you alright?" Chuuya asks, having turned around. Then he visibly pauses. "This is okay, right?"
"What if it's not the same?" Dazai blurts, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. "What if it's not the same anymore?"
Chuuya's lips thin, a determined expression crossing his face.
"It's not going to be," he says. Dazai wants to sink into the ground beneath him. He hasn't stepped over the threshold into the arcade yet. "It won't be, Dazai. It'll be better."
"How can you even know that?" Dazai whispers. He can feel himself beginning to tremble.
Chuuya's face softens into something Dazai has missed for far too long. Like he's endeared, like he wants this, like he wants Dazai like Dazai wants him,like–
"Get out of your head." Chuuya says, and Dazai snaps out of it. Just like that, Chuuya's voice pulls him out of his thoughts in ways that no coping skill can compare. "We're doing things right this time, remember?"
Dazai's resolve hardens. He forces his feet to move.
"Okay," He reassures himself. Then he clears his throat, plastering what he hopes to be a bright smile on his face. "Okay, what do you want to do first?"
Chuuya gives him a smirk that turns into an outright toothy grin.
"Claw machine." he declares. "I'm gonna win this time, I promise."
Dazai laughs despite himself, shaking with the force it takes to contain it.
"I thought you said they were a scam,." he teases. "Are you going back on your word, Chuuya?"
Chuuya shoots Dazai a playful glare and walks over to the claw machine, eyeing it up and down.
"I'm not fucking scared of you." he mutters, pointing at the coin slot. "Now take my fucking money."
Dazai walks up behind him quietly, resting his chin on top of Chuuya's head. He has to lift his head a little uncomfortably to manage, but he doesn't mind. Chuuya stiffens beneath him, freezing in place.
"You smell nice." Dazai mumbles. He can almost picture Chuuya's reddened cheeks, even if he can't physically see him. The thought makes him grin.
"You're so…" Chuuya starts, and then trails off with a grumbling sound. "Stop distracting me. I've gotta win."
"Chuuya can't win knowing how small he is?" Dazai teases, still grinning.
"Oh, you shut up!" Chuuya snaps, but he doesn't try to get away from under Dazai's chin. "I'm not that short. And I'll win even with you distracting me, just watch."
He fails. Again and again, Chuuya fails to win the plushie from the claw machine, growing more and more frustrated, until he's all but cussing the machine out. Dazai's sides hurt from laughing, but he doesn't move his head.
"You're going to get us kicked out," He wheezes. "Chuuya, there are kids here, come on."
"I'm gonna win!" Chuuya insists. "I have to!"
"Why?" Dazai asks, still laughing. "Why is it so important that you win? These things are scams, aren't they?"
"Because!" Chuuya exclaims, wrenching himself out from Dazai's chin and turning around. His hands are clenched into fists, and his face is red, but Dazai doesn't think that Chuuya is angry. He's not angry, is he? "Because you did it for me, so I have to do it too!"
Dazai blinks, confused at the outburst. Okay, so not angry, then. Flustered?
"Why does that even matter?" he can't think of any possible reason. "You already won me Kuromi."
"But that's different!" Chuuya protests. "It wasn't a claw machine win, so it doesn't count!"
Dazai wrinkles his nose in confusion.
"Doesn't it?" he asks. Is he just stupid? What isn't he understanding here?
"No, it doesn't." Chuuya says. He's red everywhere, even the tips of his ears. His glasses are slipping down the bridge of his nose from the force he'd used to pull away from Dazai. "It has to be perfect."
"What does?" Dazai presses. "I don't get it, Chuuya. Can't you just explain it to me?"
Chuuya mutters something unintelligible under his breath, so quietly that Dazai has to lean closer to hear better.
"What?" Dazai asks.
"Starting over!" Chuuya shouts. His face is bright red, and he's avoiding Dazai's gaze, instead staring down at the carpeted floor. "We're starting over. You said so. We're doing things right this time. I'm doing things right. You were good to me, even if you lied, and I want…"
He finally looks up, meeting Dazai's eyes for the first time in several minutes.
"I want to be good to you, too." Chuuya says. He's trembling. Dazai can see it in the way his shoulders shake, just slightly.
"But–" Dazai begins to protest, but Chuuya cuts him off before he can finish.
"Don't even try lying to me again." he says, and Dazai flinches. "I'll know this time, and it's not necessary anymore. I'm staying this time, no matter what. I'm sticking around, okay? Even when things get bad. I wasn't good to you. I want to be now."
Dazai bites at his lip again, gnawing on it anxiously, and Chuuya's face pinches when he notices.
"Is it really lying if I believe it?" Dazai asks, wincing. "And how come you didn't just tell me this was what you wanted to do? I would have gone along with it."
If it was something Chuuya wanted, Dazai would go along with anything. A little voice that sounds a lotlike Natsume tells him that that way of thinking isn't healthy. It doesn't make it any less true.
Chuuya looks away again.
"I didn't want to make it obvious." he says, sullenly. "I didn't want you to think I was doing it just to get you to forgive me."
I love you. The thought surges through Dazai's body like he's been electrocuted, ready to spill out of his mouth and ruin everything all over again. I love you, I forgive you, I–
His eyes sting. He can't let himself do or say any of that. Instead, he just stands still, save for a slight trembling that takes over his frame.
"Chuuya…" he whispers. Then he smiles. It feels fake. "You're not falling in love with me, are you?"
What he isn't expecting is for Chuuya to flinch, like he's been slapped. Oh. Of course Chuuya doesn't want to be reminded about that. Sickening dread fills Dazai's body and he clears his throat, looking away.
"Don't forget the rules." Dazai adds, quietly.
"I didn't." Chuuya says. "And I wouldn't. Forget about them, I mean."
It sounds genuine. He still manages to look pained when he says it. Dazai can't comprehend why.
"Good." He murmurs.
"Good." Chuuya echoes. "Okay. I'm gonna fucking win this time. Just you watch."
It takes him two more tries. Two more tries, and a Cinnamoroll plushie is secured in the mechanical claw. Chuuya turns his head over his shoulder and beams, teeth flashing. Dazai's stomach swoops.
"Here." Chuuya says, still grinning, and hands Dazai the plushie. "Now we're even. I told you I was gonna win."
Dazai takes his shaking hands out of his pockets and flexes them lightly before taking a hold of it. It's soft to the touch, almost velveteen. One of his thumbs strokes over an embroidered eye. He squeezes it to get his hands to stay still.
"It only took you thirty tries," He teases, but it comes out more wobbly than he means it to. He's unable to hide just how touched he is. He wants to curl up into a ball and cry. "Thank you, Chuuya."
Chuuya's smile softens.
"Of course." He murmurs. "Besides, now we match!"
Dazai's heart stutters.
"You don't have a Kuromi, though." He points out. Chuuya shrugs, leaning back on his heels.
"So win me one." He says simply. "It can't be that hard, right, Dazai?"
"Don't be a dick." Dazai mutters, but his lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile. "You were doing so well."
"I bet you can't do it." Chuuya challenges, raising a perfectly arched brow.
"I bet I can." Dazai argues. He immediately walks over to a different game.
"Prove it!"
"I will!"
He tucks the Cinnamoroll plushie under his chin as he plays. For only being in Chuuya's hands for a few seconds, it still smells just like him. Dazai breathes it in, desperate for anything of Chuuya's he can get. Anything he can get without giving in too fast.
He wins Chuuya that Kuromi plushie.
"Where to next?" Dazai asks as they exit the arcade. He feels breathless from laughing so much– more than he'd thought he was capable of– and dizzy with the euphoria of having Chuuya next to him again.
Chuuya's nose scrunches under the bridge of his glasses, and he adjusts them with his fingers. Dazai bites his lip to stop from smiling too wide. He can't give himself away so easily again. That's how you get hurt.
"I know it's out of order, but why not the bar?" Chuuya says. A strand of hair falls into his face, and Dazai's hand twitches with the urge to tuck it behind Chuuya's ear.
"Beast Beneath the Moonlight?" Dazai guesses, surprising himself by how immediate the thought was. "What do you mean in order? You're not…"
His eyes widen as Chuuya avoids his gaze.
"I thought you understood earlier." Chuuya mumbles.
"You really…" Dazai says, his lips trembling as he tries to fight a smile. "You really want to redo everything? Everything we ever did together?"
"Yes." Chuuya insists. "Yeah, Dazai, I do. I said it before. I want to do things right, this time."
Squeezing onto the Cinnamoroll plushie still caught in his hands, Dazai tries to calm his nerves before he speaks.
"Then… you're forgetting something," he says. "About the arcade trips."
Dates, he wants to say. He doesn't. This is enough as it is, what he's trying to get at. Chuuya seems confused for a bit, but Dazai can see the exact moment that he realizes, blue eyes widening imperceptibly.
"Oh," he murmurs. "You're right."
Dazai freezes in place, going stiff as a board. His knuckles turn white with how hard he's clutching onto the plushie in his hands. He almost closes his eyes in anticipation, but he's waiting, he's waiting to see if Chuuya will listen and not push.
But Chuuya doesn't kiss him like Dazai is worried he will. Instead, he licks his thumb and wipes Dazai's cheek with it, brushing gently along his skin.
"You had something on your face." Chuuya says, when he pulls his thumb away. He's lying. Dazai knows he's lying. Dazai hasn't had anything but the coffee from their Cafe. The roof of his mouth is still scratchy and numb from burning it.
"No I didn't." Dazai whispers.
Chuuya grimaces.
"No, you didn't." he agrees. "I'm not going to kiss you when you've told me not to, Dazai. I'm following the rules."
Dazai knows what he's saying is true, and that Chuuya isn't trying to guilt trip him, and he's relieved. He doesn't understand why there's a bit of disappointment curling in his chest, too.
(Yes he does.)
"Okay." Dazai says, smiling. He knows it doesn't look entirely genuine. Chuuya looks just a little bit crestfallen.
"I know I broke your trust in me," he says. "You don't have to trust me with any more secrets if you don't want to, Dazai. But… I thought I'd always been clear about what my ideas on consent are, at least."
Fear rockets up Dazai's entire body.
"That's not–" He starts, panicking, and then closes his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath. "I wasn't– I didn't think you'd force yourself on me if I said no."
"Dazai." Chuuya calls, and Dazai opens his eyes despite not wanting to at all. "Hey, come back. It's fine. If I have to earn your trust back for that too, then I'll do it. Don't worry about it."
How can he not?
Chuuya looks down at his hands, and Dazai is suddenly once again aware of how hard he's holding onto the plushie Chuuya had won him.
"You're going to strangle Cinnamoroll at that rate." Chuuya says, moving on just like that. "But it's better than what you used to do."
Dazai's chest splinters, and he feels reality crushing down on him. Even now, he's fooling Chuuya without meaning to.
"I'm not getting better." He blurts out. Chuuya stares at him. "Everyone thinks I am, but I'm not. The therapy is supposed to be helping, but it's not."
Chuuya's lips part. The setting sun catches against the golden frame of his glasses.
"I'm glad you're saying something," He says. "But why tell me, Dazai? I haven't done anything to earn your trust back, yet."
If not for his grip on Cinnamoroll, Dazai is sure he'd be shaking like a leaf. His tremors have only gotten worse since he returned to campus.
"I don't want to lie anymore," Dazai confesses, his voice breaking. "I don't want there to be secrets between us. Not anymore."
It all spills over like a fountain, and he can't stop saying things he never would have said before. Strangely, his eyes feel damp. Chuuya presses his lips into a thin line and then releases them.
"Okay," He murmurs. "Thank you. But you don't have to tell me things if you're not ready for me to hear them. Do you want to talk about it more over a drink?"
"Are your friends going to be there?" Dazai can't help but ask. He doesn't know how angry Chuuya's friends must be, if they'd only seen Chuuya's side of things. Chuuya pauses.
"Not Yuan," he says. "She won't be there. Shirase might, though."
Dazai is silent for a moment, worrying his lip with his teeth, stopping only when Chuuya shoots him an unhappy look. He doesn't let himself break skin again.
"...Is he mad at me?" Dazai hates how small his voice sounds. Chuuya recoils.
"Shirase?" He asks. "No. He's the one who told me to get my head out of my ass in the first place. He's not mad at you."
"Oh," Dazai says, feeling the smallest bit more relieved. "Okay."
Chuuya watches him carefully for a moment longer. The sun has almost fully set now, and the streetlamps are lighting up.
"You know we don't have to do any of this if you don't want to." Chuuya tells him, speaking slowly. "If you want to go home, I can just take you home."
"Your home?" Dazai winces as soon as it comes out. Whatever he's expecting, a look of disgust or confusion, something, anything, he doesn't get it.
"If that's what you want." Chuuya says earnestly.
"And if I don't?" Dazai asks. He doesn't know why. He does want to go back to Chuuya's dorm. But he has to check anyway.
"Then I'll take you to your dorm, make sure you get in safely, and leave when you ask me to." Chuuya responds. He doesn't seem annoyed at all by Dazai's continuous insecurities or questions. "If you need to be alone right now, that's okay, Dazai."
Dazai's vision blurs.
"I don't want to be alone," He says. "I just want to sleep. Can we just sleep?"
"Yeah," Chuuya murmurs, stepping closer. "Yeah, Dazai, we can. Sorry. Was today a lot for you?"
Dazai laughs wetly.
"I had so much fun." he admits, feeling stupid. "I don't know why I'm acting like this now."
Chuuya shrugs.
"Emotions are weird." he says. "Try not to worry too much about it. I'm not gonna judge you for something like that. C'mon, let's go home."
When Dazai smiles this time, it feels real even to himself. He doesn't feel like he's putting on a mask anymore.
This time, he doesn't stop himself from taking Chuuya's hand before they start off.
"Don't get the wrong idea," He clarifies, when Chuuya stares at him with wide eyes, frozen. "I haven't forgiven you yet. I just need this right now."
Chuuya's eyes soften in realization.
"Okay." he says. "I can do that."
He squeezes Dazai's hand, and in that instant Dazai is home. Home away from his dorm, from Chuuya's, home away from his shipping container, home away from an empty house with no parents. Chuuya is his home. It's a crushing realization, that deep down he's always known it would be this way. That no matter what he does, there simply is no getting over Nakahara Chuuya.
So he puts it off longer.
He's not exactly lying anymore. Chuuya knows how Dazai feels, and that's enough. Even if Chuuya doesn't feel the same, they can still be friends. They can still be friends.
Despite being smaller than Dazai's, Chuuya's dorm doesn't feel confining. It doesn't make Dazai claustrophobic or trapped. It's cozy, almost.
Chuuya doesn't bother flicking on the lights when he gets the door unlocked, and so it's dark when Dazai steps inside. In an instant, Chuuya is tugging him gently towards his bed.
"Sit," He orders, and Dazai is too busy to complain that he's not a dog. He sits on the mattress, and Chuuya kneels in front of him.
"What are you doing?" Dazai asks, even as Chuuya gets started untying his shoes for him.
"Do you have the energy to do it yourself?" Chuuya asks, not looking up. Dazai blinks slowly, watching Chuuya work. "You looked like you were gonna drop dead the whole way back, Dazai. Have you been getting any sleep?"
No lying, Natsume's voice says. You promised.
"Some." Dazai is surprised by his own voice. It sounds thick and worn, completely exhausted. "Not a lot. Maybe a few hours a night."
"Then let me do this for you." Chuuya says. He finishes untying one of Dazai's shoes and slips it off of his foot. It's getting harder for Dazai to keep his eyes open, his head dipping slightly as he starts to doze off.
"Okay." he whispers, and then yawns. God, he hadn't realized just how tired he was until after they'd arrived.
Chuuya finishes taking off both of Dazai's shoes and gets to his feet.
"Coat next," He says. "Come on, you're not sleeping in that. You don't even like it."
Dazai jolts at that, slightly more awake.
"What do you mean?" he forces himself to ask. It feels sluggish with how tired he is.
Chuuya shrugs again.
"You always look miserable when you wear it." he says. "You have to change out of your other clothes, too, so the coat has to go."
"Don't look while I change." Dazai mumbles, rising to his feet. Chuuya obeys, turning away to grab clothes for himself. Or at least, that's what Dazai assumes he's doing.
Dazai strips slowly, leaving his socks on, and picks up the clothes Chuuya had brought. An oversized grey tee, grey sweatpants. A pair of fuzzy socks.
Dazai laughs softly and switches them out for the ones he's currently wearing. They feel soft like clouds on his feet. It's a small comfort, but a good one. Then he pulls on the shirt and sweatpants.
"You can turn around now," he says, looking up. He's met with the sight of Chuuya pulling a shirt over his head, his back still facing Dazai. Dazai lets himself watch for just a second before looking away. A few moments later, Chuuya is by his side again, fully clothed.
"How do you want to do this?" Chuuya asks, and Dazai lets out a tired little noise of confusion. "Sleep, I mean. What position would work best for you?"
Dazai closes his eyes, feeling like he could fall asleep standing up if he tried hard enough.
"I just need to be close," He mumbles. "I just need to be touching you. That's all."
When he opens his eyes again, Chuuya is clambering onto his mattress, pressing himself up against the wall while holding the covers up so he can slip under them.
"Come on then," Chuuya says, and Dazai can only listen, climbing under the covers and pressing himself as close to Chuuya as he can get.
It feels almost like he's clinging onto Chuuya to keep him grounded. It feels like he's gone so long without good human touch that he might die if he doesn't get more of it. He ends up with his face pressed into Chuuya's neck, the smell of Chuuya's strawberry shampoo filling his nose. His eyelids are so heavy that he can't even imagine feeling guilty for needing this.
Chuuya's arms curl around him and Dazai's eyes shut completely, relaxing into the embrace.
"Just sleep, Dazai." Chuuya murmurs, his voice low and warm. "I'll be here when you wake up, okay?"
Dazai doesn't need to hear anything more than that. He tips over into heavenly unconsciousness soon after. For the first night in months, he sleeps for longer than just a few hours. There are no nightmares. There are no dreams at all.
Dazai wakes up to the sound of two people quietly talking. It's a slow process, gently pulling him out of unconsciousness. One voice is familiar enough that it makes warmth bloom in his chest.
It comes from above him, though still nearby. It's low and raspy with sleep, and Dazai tries to press closer against its source, because he feels warm and whole again like this. Like a moth drawn to a scarlet flame, basking in its amber glow, Dazai nuzzles his face against where the voice is coming from. The talking stops abruptly, and he frowns, wanting to hear it again.
"Dazai?" Chuuya asks, snapping Dazai out of the comforting haze he'd fallen into. "Are you awake?"
Dazai doesn't want to answer. His voice is silenced, his head still blank. He blinks open in his eyelids only to shut them tightly again when brightness floods his vision.
"How late is it?" He croaks, when he's finally able to find the words to speak. He cringes at the sound of his own voice, hoarse and grating like he hadn't spoken in years before this moment.
"Around 11 AM," Chuuya says. His voice is still lowered, a blessing to Dazai's sensitive ears.
"Don't you have class?" Dazai asks, a jolt of anxiety burrowing deep into his chest. Despite his words, he curls further against Chuuya, not wanting him to leave.
"I called out sick." Chuuya tells him. When Dazai opens his eyes again, Chuuya is half sitting up, allowing Dazai to cling to him, and watching Dazai with a soft expression on his face. His blue eyes trace over Dazai like he's committing everything in this moment to memory.
"Why?" Dazai's heart pounds in his chest as he stares into Chuuya's eyes, searching for an answer he's hoping for, but knows he won't receive. What he doesreceive is a flick to his forehead.
"You were tired." Chuuya mumbles, looking away. "You needed to sleep."
"I would have been fine," Dazai protests. "You didn't have to stay."
"I wanted to stay." Chuuya says insistently, looking back at Dazai again. "So suck it up."
Dazai frowns, opening his mouth to argue again, but he's interrupted before he can even begin to speak.
"You guys really are like this all the time, aren't you?"
Dazai jolts in surprise, his mouth snapping shut. He'd forgotten in his sleepy haze that there had been two voices speaking. When he looks over his shoulder to check, sure enough, Shirase waves back at him.
"Good morning, Dazai." He grins, waggling his eyebrows. "Did you sleep well?"
Chuuya scoffs, and Dazai is suddenly very aware of their close proximity. Reluctantly, he pulls himself away from Chuuya's side.
"Yeah," Dazai answers, honestly. He rubs at his eyes with one of his hands. "It was good."
He's surprised at how quickly Shirase's smile turns real, rather than suggestive.
"That's good." Shirase says. "Chuuya has been talking all morning about how worried he's been, but you didn't hear that from me."
"Shut up." Chuuya hisses, and Dazai can feel his face heating up.
"You were worried?" He asks, trying not to sound too eager as he turns to face Chuuya again. "How come?"
Chuuya's face pinches into a pained expression.
"Dazai, of course I was worried," he says. "You almost fell asleep standing up. If your eyebags were any darker they'd be black."
Dazai knows that Chuuya isn't insulting him, even if his thoughts try to weaponize Chuuya's words.
"Oh," He says. "You… Thank you. For worrying. And… I'm sorry."
Chuuya recoils.
"Don't apologize." He says hurriedly. "I'm just glad you let me help."
Dazai could kiss him. He wants to. He doesn't.
"I should go." He says, instead, pulling the covers away from his body. Chuuya's face falls, like he's worried he's done something wrong, so Dazai lets himself smile. "Don't worry about it, Chuuya, I just have things to do. Books to write. You know how it is."
Chuuya's face clears, and he nods as Dazai slides his legs over the side of the mattress. Dazai gets to his feet, wiggling his toes in the fuzzy socks Chuuya had given him just so he can feel how soft they are. He looks at Chuuya again.
"Can I keep these?" he asks. Chuuya nods again.
"I got them for you." He admits, quietly. "It was supposed to be another apology, but you told me you needed space, and I wanted to… I wanted to respect that."
Warmth curls inside Dazai's chest, and he's reminded of how it felt to be so close to Chuuya after so long of going without him.
"Thank you." Dazai says again. He means it. Setting that boundary had been hard. Because even though he had been angry, most of his anger was focused on himself.
He'd been angry because nothing was working. Because he couldn't move on. Because things couldn't be like they used to be.
After seeing Chuuya's efforts, how much he truly wants to make things up to Dazai, not for forgiveness but because he thinks that Dazai deserves it, he thinks maybe they could be.
He thinks maybe he's already forgiven Chuuya, after all. That thought scares him more than he can stand to bear.
He moves to pick up his coat, but Chuuya stops him with just a few words.
"Leave it." He says, climbing off of the mattress and walking towards his closet. His bare feet are soundless against the carpeted floor as he moves. "You can take mine."
"What?" Dazai asks, bewildered. When Chuuya turns to him again, he's pulled out the brown coat he'd given Dazai the first time they went to the arcade. "Why?"
Chuuya shrugs, walking closer. Dazai is increasingly aware of Shirase on the other side of the room. When he checks, though, Shirase is scrolling through his phone, not paying them any mind.
"You hate that thing." Chuuya says. "Who gave it to you, anyways?"
He's watching Dazai carefully. Dazai feels almost pinned under his gaze.
"Why does that matter?" He chokes out. Chuuya frowns slightly.
"It doesn't really, I just wanted to know." He says, and pushes his coat towards Dazai. Dazai takes it in shaking hands. "For hating it so much, it seems important to you."
"Mori gave it to me." Dazai blurts, unable to control himself. Chuuya stills, like he's thinking.
"Mori Ougai?" He asks, slowly. Dazai nods. "Oh, okay."
Relief fills Dazai to the brim. He'd been worried. Worried that maybe after everything Chuuya was catching on, worried that he'd been found out, worried that it would change everything.
But it hadn't. Chuuya hadn't realized anything at all.
"I can burn it for you, if you want." Shirase suggests, finally speaking up. "Not that it's ugly or anything, but you really don't seem to like it."
Dazai hesitates.
"...No, that's okay." He mutters. "I only wear it because it was a gift. I want to be… polite."
He likes the way I look in it.
It was a habit that hadn't really died. After a while of associating it with Mori and the things he'd done, it became almost like armor. If he was wearing it, he couldn't be hurt, because he'd convinced himself so strongly that he wasn't hurting, back when it mattered.
He's not so sure of that now.
You should tell someone.
He doesn't.
"Thank you, Chuuya," he says. "But I should wash my coat anyways. I'll just wear yours while it's at the laundromat, since it needs a special treatment. Then I'll give it back, okay? Promise."
Chuuya looks at the ground.
"You can keep it, if you want." He mumbles. "I don't mind."
Dazai pinches his lips together to stop from smiling. He already feels a lot better, more rested than before.
"You still up for that drink later?" He asks. Chuuya's head shoots up from where it was tilted down before. "I mean, you said we'd redo everything, right?"
"Yes!" Chuuya exclaims. "And I meant it. What time do you want to go?"
Dazai can't stop his smile this time.
Chuuya is cute. Desperate to make up for his wrongs and eager to prove himself, all because he thinks Dazai deserves better than he used to be.
"How does eight sound?"
Chuuya nods hurriedly.
"Sounds good. Do you– do you want to bring Ranpo and Yosano again?"
Dazai winces.
"That might… that might actually not be a good idea." He says. "Yosano is still…"
Realization dawns on Chuuya's face, followed quickly by acceptance.
"Okay." He agrees. "But if you want them to come, they still can. I don't want to take up all of your time."
Dazai doesn't say that he would gladly let Chuuya do just that.
"Thank you," he says instead. "I'll see you then."
"Yeah," Chuuya replies, pushing a few strands of hair out of his face. "See you then, Dazai."
He sounds almost breathless.
As soon as he gets home, Dazai goes straight to his desk and pulls out the journal Natsume had given him to write in. He remembers the question Natsume had asked him just before their session had ended.
"Do you think Chuuya deserves your forgiveness?"
Dazai thinks about it. He thinks really, really hard. He still comes up empty.
Empty because while everything in him is screaming yes, there's a small part that worries that this is all too easy. It's the disapproval of his friends that worries him most. His ballpoint pen sits still on the page he has open, a single dot of ink under its tip. How is he even supposed to begin figuring something like that out?
Dazai's mind races, and no skill Natsume has suggested to him is able to pull him out of it. The only thing that does is the sound of the door opening. Dazai knows it has to be Fyodor, but he turns over his shoulder to check anyway.
Sure enough, Fyodor is standing at the door, shutting it behind him. He toes off his shoes and then plods over to Dazai's mattress, flopping onto it like a dead fish.
"Don't bring that habit back again," Dazai whines in complaint. "You have your own bed right there."
"There is nothing more satisfying than sitting on your bed and having you complain about it." Fyodor replies, absent-mindedly picking at his cuticles. It's not the dangerous, harmful manner that Dazai had done it in, because Fyodor is normal.
"What are you up to?" Fyodor asks, after a moment of silence. Dazai looks down at the blank page of his journal, and then back at Fyodor. Then he sighs.
"Homework." He mumbles. "Hey, Fyodor."
He gets a quiet hum in response, urging him to continue.
"How do you know when you're ready to forgive someone?" Dazai asks, feeling helpless. His fingers grip his pen so hard that he worries briefly that it'll break, and he forces himself to relax.
Fyodor stays quiet for a moment.
"Dazai," He says, eventually. "For all that I probably need therapy, I'm still not in it. And I know I'm smart, but there are things that even I don't know. Same goes for Ranpo. Just like it goes for you. We're only human."
"I don't know if I'm ready to forgive Chuuya or not," Dazai admits shakily. "But I really, really want to."
"Yeah, because you really, really love him." Fyodor counters. "Look, you both fucked up, alright? We all did, in different ways. You lied, he lashed out, and I… I should have noticed you weren't okay that day."
Dazai drops his pen. Fyodor's voice is steady, but it's gotten quieter.
"You can't possibly blame yourself for something like that." Dazai protests. At Fyodor's prolonged silence, Dazai turns in his chair so that he's fully facing him. "Fyodor, I'm good at lying, okay? It's what I do. I did it with Chuuya and fooled him, and I fooled you too, because I know how to do it. That's on me, not you. You're not trained to know every sign, and the media doesn't tell you all of them."
"You won't do it again, though, right?" Fyodor asks. This time, his voice shakes just the tiniest amount.
"Fyodor…" Dazai starts, his throat tight. "Look, I can't promise that it won't get that bad again. But I can try to be more honest about it. I… I don't want to lie anymore."
He repeats what he'd told Chuuya outside the arcade, because it's true. He doesn't want to lie anymore. It's exhausting. He's exhausted. Even after a good night of sleep in Chuuya's arms, he's still too tired to keep up any sort of prolonged act.
"Okay." Fyodor sighs. "I'm trusting you."
That means more to Dazai than Fyodor could ever know.
"Thank you." He murmurs.
"I think when you forgive Chuuya, you'll know." Fyodor continues. "You might have even done it already. When you're ready, you'll know. He's sticking around for as long as you want, this time."
Dazai smiles softly and turns back to his journal.
"He said that, too."