he catches the paper. he glances at it, and there’s crab scrawled on the top, along with a few notes on the specifics, and dazai remembers how he complained, earlier, about how food was so boring and he wouldn’t eat, then.

he looks up, and he can’t find the words, so he nods instead. chuuya’s brow furrows, his lips pulling down into a frown, but dazai manages a weak smile. chuuya smiles back his own, always beautiful smile, and makes his way over. he kisses the crown of dazai’s head, murmuring.

“i can do it myself, if you’re not up to it,” he says. and he’s not even calling him lazy. “or we can go together?”

dazai ponders this. he gnaws at the inside of his cheek. “chuuya should come. i might only get crab, and then the chibi might whine about there being none of his doggy food.”

chuuya rolls his eyes affectionately. dazai knocks his head against chuuya’s, and then slips down, leaning so he can nuzzle chuuya’s shoulder. there’s a hand on his back, now, rubbing.

“‘course,” he hums. “i’ll grab my coat, go put your shoes on, ‘samu.”

and chuuya gets his coat, but dazai stays standing, watching, waiting. chuuya returns, giving him an inquisitive look. still, he guides dazai to the door, holding his hand. has him sit down and pull his shoes on. once they’re both ready, they start out. chuuya holds his hand the entire time, and dazai finds it grounds him.

when they return, chuuya’s arms are weighed down by grocery bags. dazai almost holds them, but the pressure of the straps on his skin make him itchy. makes it hard for him to think about the fact that chuuya is here with him, and that he is here alive, and that maybe just for tonight things will be okay. so chuuya holds them. dazai feels bad, makes sure he does before he starts spiraling again.

somehow, despite having his hands full, chuuya finds a way to hold dazai’s hand. he intertwines his fingers, and whenever dazai’s gaze drifts off to the cars driving past, he squeezes gently. to remind him that he’s there. that he’d drop everything for dazai. yes, even the groceries. the thought makes dazai’s steps a bit lighter.

at home, at least, dazai is able to help put the food away. he finds it in himself to be excited about the crab, even if chuuya won’t make it until tomorrow. dazai’s not hungry now, and chuuya says he ate a snack and is fine. they’ll eat tomorrow. or maybe in the middle of the night, when dazai can’t sleep and he wakes chuuya up and tells him he’s hungry.

chuuya takes dazai to the bedroom. they dress into more comfortable clothes, not bothering to shower. at most, dazai changes his bandages. the new fabric feels weird on his skin, at first, but then chuuya presses his lips against the point on his wrist where his pulse beats. then, dazai is lost in chuuya—letting himself drown in the wonder he is, instead of the dark whirlpool his mind provides. he thinks he’ll always prefer chuuya.

chuuya smiles at him. it’s a soft smile, reserved for puppies, and children, and dazai. oh, how he smiles at him. dazai wraps himself around chuuya and breathes him in. he doesn’t know what he’s possibly done for chuuya to smile at him like that. but he intends to preserve this moment for as long as possible. even if that means living a few days longer. how odd it was, to yearn for something as small as a smile.

a kiss is tickled onto dazai’s cheekbone. he scrunches his face and moves, moves down so he can capture another kiss to his lips. it’s a long, still, prolonged kiss. dazai parts when he feels chuuya smile against him, and chuuya nudges him with his shoulder. dazai mushes his cheek to chuuya’s.

“if you’re gonna smile, at least tell me so i can see it,” dazai whispers, the words gentle. they’re unnatural on his tongue, because someone like him has no right being so achingly soft. still, he says them. and chuuya doesn’t deny him that.

instead, chuuya’s cheeks flush. he tries looking away, but dazai follows him down, eyes wide as he gazes at the fluster spreading along chuuya’s skin. there’s a shy smile on chuuya’s face, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he tries biting back his embarrassment.

“osamu,” chuuya complains. he pushes against dazai, face buried in dazai’s chest. when he peeks up again, his cheeks are still red. dazai finds it adorable.

“chuuya,” he responds belatedly. chuuya blinks up at him, then surges up, a bigger smile lighting his face. he kisses dazai’s lips once, twice, then pulls back before dazai can do anything more about it.

“i love you,” chuuya says.

the thing called the heart pulses in dazai’s chest. it seems to squeeze at chuuya’s voice, at his words, and dazai’s face feels warm. he fists the blanket, then lets his hand uncurl and brings it up to pet chuuya’s head.

“…you, too,” he breathes, but half the words are lost on the way out. his breath stutters. his thoughts trickle in as a growing stream. i love you, too, i love you, i love you, i love you so much, chuuya. i love you too.

chuuya waits. he doesn’t push. he lays his head against dazai’s shoulder. his arms wrap around dazai. dazai swallows.

he does, too.

“i… uhm.” he closes his eyes. he hears chuuya’s breathing, steady but not in the asleep way. listening. he’s so impossibly patient. “i do. i love. uhm, you.”

chuuya hums. it vibrates in his chest, and dazai can feel it against him. he opens his eyes. he looks down, and gets caught in the world of chuuya.

“i love you,” dazai manages, but it comes out choked. “chib— chuuya.”

he panics. “you know i do—“

“i know,” chuuya says. and even though dazai’s been an inconvenience the whole day, couldn’t do something as simple as getting the groceries, or holding the bags—even so, even so, even then. he smiles at dazai, his soft little smile, the one for puppies, the one for children, the one for soft little things. the one for dazai. “i know you do.”

he says it sincerely. dazai sags onto the bed.

oh, god, oh, chuuya, oh. oh.

his breath comes out short and staccatoed. “thank you,” he mumbles.

chuuya closes his eyes. he looks relaxed. his guard is down. he’s laying against dazai. and he does this, because he trusts him. because he knows. he knows what dazai means. he knows.

so maybe one day, dazai might say it. but even if he doesn’t, even if he dies without ever letting the words form unrestrained in his mouth, at least chuuya will know. chuuya will understand that sometimes words are not dazai’s greatest strength, and sometimes he can’t do anything about it. and maybe— maybe chuuya will think that it’s okay.

he says it for dazai.

“i love you, too,” he says.