“would you die for me?” dazai asked suddenly as you floated together down the river. you’d taken a spontaneous trip away, just the two of you, and were observing a quaint little river twinkling under artificial lights when dazai fell in. of course, you had to jump in after him.
you hummed, water tickling the sides of your face as you drifted beside him. “better. i’d live for you.”
dazai went quiet. you didn’t trust yourself to look over at him without sinking, but you reached out and tangled your hand in his.
over the gentle rush of water, you heard his breath hitch.
“but,” you said, and there was a slight tease on the tip of your tongue. “when we’re both old and have experienced life to the fullest… perhaps some poison in wine would be a peaceful way to go. i’d even let you pick the type.”
in your peripheral, you watched as dazai let his head fall beneath the quiet current. you counted to five before tugging him back to the surface, listening to him sputter for a few seconds before giving his hand a squeeze. “you can’t get rid of me that easy, my love.”
“i suppose not,” he agreed easily, voice a bit scratchy from the water that trickled in through his nose. “a wine of nightshade berries does sound like an exquisite experiment.”
“it does,” you mused. “an exquisite, future experiment.”
dazai hummed, but he didn’t release your hand. “spending the next few years or so with you doesn’t sound too bad, either…”
your smile was quick and real and painful. it was easy to throw his words back at him. “i suppose not.”
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synopsis.: chuuya doesn’t understand why you turn to self-harm every time you feel like you’re at your lowest, but he’ll do anything to make sure you’re okay afterward
pairing.: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader
cw.: sfw, established relationship, heavy trigger warning !! ⇢ explicit self-harm, kinda angsty, hurt / comfort, fluff at the end, mentioning of dazai osamu, sort of suggestive themes
wc.: 1.9k
۶ৎ note.: YAYAYA happy belated birthday to my love!! i actually wanted to post this on his birthday exactly, but i only now found the time to correct everything (had a busy week) so yeah :(( BUT AT LEAST IT’S ONLY THREE DAYS LATE GUYS AND NOT A MONTH (be proud of me please) anyway, hope you enjoy!!
he wasn’t supposed to see this. he wasn’t supposed to find you like this—so utterly broken and messed up.
but then again, it’s chuuya. it’s his apartment. and it’s definitely not his fault that you didn’t check your messages. no, this is your own fault for turning off your phone.
so how could you have known? that he’d be back from the mission early? that he’d stay extra quiet to not disturb you just in case you were sleeping on his side of the bed as usual when he’d be late?
you could have. if you had just looked at your damn phone. then he wouldn’t have had to find you like this—sitting on the ground, leaning against the frame of the bed, totally out of it and fucking miserable.
your body is trembling, fresh blood stains the ends of your sleeves as it trickles down your wrists, drenching the white fabric into a deep crimson color.
he’s at your side before your mind can even register him entering the room, kneeling down in front of you. his eyes are practically flooded with concern and a tinge of frustration.
he knows about your struggles, sort of. even though you never explicitly told him anything, he isn’t blind.
“you idiot… what did you do?” chuuya whispers softly as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.
you briefly close your eyes at the contact of his lips against your feverish skin, mumbling something inaudibly. perhaps an apology or just his name—he isn’t quite sure.
the blood loss isn’t severe. he’s seen worse, way worse. yet, you still look like you’re about to faint. it’s probably the adrenaline wearing off, leaving your body in a state of pure exhaustion.
chuuya gently picks you up, being careful not to accidentally brush against any of the deep cuts on your wrists. you whimper anyway.
your body relaxes ever so slightly in his arms, the familiar grip and scent soothing you, just a bit. he carries you toward the bathroom, gingerly helping you settle on the edge of the bathtub.
he makes sure you’re steady, holding you for just a while longer, giving you another kiss on the top of your head. you lean against him, burying your face in his side to shield your eyes from the stinging brightness.
chuuya lets go of you eventually, though, as the pungent smell of copper invades his nose. he grabs a first aid kit and a fresh cloth, which he wets at the sink before returning to you.
he kneels down in front of you again, gently taking your hands in his and squeezing them reassuringly. you can’t bear to look him in the eyes, feeling ashamed as you almost withdraw your hands.
chuuya doesn’t let go, though. instead, he only holds your hands tighter, frowning at the fact that you don’t feel comfortable letting him take care of you. then again, he can’t blame you. he doesn’t burden you with his worries either.
he turns your arms over, revealing your soft skin marred with deep cuts and slashes. they look like you used one of his blades he keeps lying around for safety purposes.
you lower your head, turning more inward as guilt washes over you. “i’m sorry…” you whisper, your voice rough as you swallow thickly.
chuuya doesn’t respond. instead, he takes the wet cloth and dabs at the edges of the cuts you made. you flinch as the rough material grazes your wounds.
he has half a mind to keep everything sharp locked away in the future, and half a mind to never leave your side again. however, he knows both of these options would never work out and would probably make you feel even more uncomfortable around him.
maybe even less like a human but more like an object he wants to protect—and that’s something chuuya would never want to make someone feel, especially not you. for all that, he knows what it’s like to not feel human. to constantly question your own thoughts and feelings, to deal with a sick mind.
he doesn’t understand your pain, not truly anyway. but he relates to it on a level only he can. he just can’t relate to your utterly stupid and awful coping mechanisms. this simply isn’t his cup of tea, and it unfortunately reminds him of another troubled soul.
sometimes he wonders if he’s enough for you. enough for you to cling to your life and keep holding on. in the end, he wasn’t enough for dazai, who keeps craving something more fulfilling and meaningful to his life, even though there probably never will be anything that fills his void.
and chuuya is just so fucking scared that you need that too. that he can’t fill the void you’re so desperately trying to fill.
you glance at chuuya, his quiet and thoughtful demeanor sending another wave of panic through you. is he thinking of leaving you? of never wanting to see or speak to you again?
you know you’re disgusting. you know you can be a lot, especially in these moments. you know you’re difficult to handle. and while chuuya has never in his life expressed even an amount of distaste towards you, you wouldn’t be surprised if he just pretended all along. and you wouldn’t blame him either.
chuuya notices your underlying panic. he can practically feel it from how tense and nervous you look, and he hates that he’s probably the one making you feel like this.
“hold still,” he mumbles, still dabbing away at your cuts. once he decides they look clean enough and all the dried scraps of blood are gone, he applies a thin layer of petroleum jelly around your cuts to keep the area moist.
his movements are tender against your irritated skin, but despite how gentle he is, you still feel a burning sensation whenever he gets too close to a cut.
applying the ointment is sort of tedious and takes chuuya some time. enough time for you to stare at his face and imagine the most gruesome breakup you can think of.
you don’t even realize that he’s already laying out gauze on your wounds and securing it by wrapping bandages somewhat tightly around your wrists.
eventually, chuuya looks up at you with a serious expression before standing up fully again. he stands between your legs and strokes your hair affectionately, pulling you closer against him.
you briefly close your eyes, enjoying the warmth his body radiates. “come on, let’s get you to bed,” chuuya says, picking you up in his arms again. you let him without protest.
he makes sure not to step on any of the medical treatments he left out in the open. he’ll take care of it tomorrow, as well as the bloodstain you left behind on the carpet in his bedroom.
he carefully sets you on top of the bed, your shirt riding up just a little. you don’t mind, though. chuuya looks down at you, his gaze lingering on your bloody sleeves. he walks to the closet and grabs one of his own shirts.
“arms up,” he demands, and you follow through with his request. he takes off your shirt, looking you over just in case you hurt yourself anywhere else. when he doesn’t find any more cuts, he dresses you in his shirt, wiping away your dried tears with the end of his own sleeves.
you simply gaze at him with half-lidded eyes, pulling him closer by his waist. your thumbs begin to trace circles through his clothes, and chuuya regards you with a small chuckle. “what are you doing?”
“nothing,” you answer after a long moment of silence, your hands moving down and along his belt. you tug at it hesitantly, almost testing the waters.
you’re aware this isn’t exactly the best moment to ask for intimacy, especially this kind of intimacy. after all, you definitely don’t look or feel your best right now.
but all of this can be pushed aside. you just want—no, need—this kind of reassurance from him. you need to know he isn’t disgusted by you or mortified by your self-destructiveness.
chuuya’s smile drops as soon as he realizes what you’re asking him for, and he gently takes your hands in his, stopping you from going any further. “we’re not doing this. not tonight,” he says calmly but firmly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.
your breath hitches at that, and you look away, feeling just a bit humiliated and pensive at his polite rejection. “is it because… you don’t find me attractive anymore?” you ask quietly, a sense of insecurity washing over you.
you bring your arms closer to your stomach, trying to hide them. you suddenly grow more aware of your surroundings, of what you did, and how much pain you must have inflicted on him.
of course he’s not going to want to sleep with you after that. god, how can you be so foolish? “sorry, that was a stupid question,” you mutter, your voice even quieter than before.
chuuya sits down beside you at that, looking at you with a heavy heart, unsure of what to do. he knows words are useless here and not his strong suit anyway, so he does what makes the most sense to him.
reluctantly, he leans in, stopping just a moment away from your face to think this through again. “fuck it…” he murmurs, exhaling shakily before tilting your head to face him. he rests his hand against your cheek, his thumb grazing the thin skin under your eye as he gently presses his lips against yours.
you’re startled for a moment but instantly return the kiss, practically melting into him. eventually, he brushes your hair out of the way with the hand that’s resting on your face and drags his lips lower.
he begins to plant light kisses along your sensitive skin, his other hand slowly slipping beneath your shirt. it’s warm against your skin, but doesn’t move any further.
“nothing you’d do could ever make me not want you, sweetheart,” chuuya whispers against your throat before moving to press his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling. if he could, he would take you right then and there. but he knows that would be unfair and wrong on so many levels.
“but you don’t want this, at least not right now,” he says reassuringly as he pulls away. “besides, you’re too tired anyway. you’d fall asleep before we even get to the good part.” he laughs softly, the thought of you falling asleep during sex amusing him. it wouldn’t be the first time.
a small smile graces your lips as well, and you bury your head in the crook of his neck. you wrap your arms around him, and he does the same, tracing soothing circles against your back.
“tell you what, if you still feel like this first thing in the morning after a good night full of sleep, i’ll gladly scratch that itch,” he mumbles, making your cheeks heat up.
you just nod and hum in response, your lips grazing his neck ever so slightly. it tickles him just a little. “i love you, chuuya,” you say, your voice laced with deep affection and adoration.
“i love you, too,” chuuya says faintly, tightening his grip around you, and you know he won’t let you go for the rest of the night.
note.: i am actually trying to slowly get back into my writing and i feel like it’s working! might even get into a writer’s rut hihi but yeah- question, how are we guys feeling about some criminal minds content??? maybe in the future
no because what actually happened to good angst fics/any other form of literature??
back in my time we had ACTUAL gut wretching, pain inducing, i-feel-like-im-gonna-throw-up, soul crushing, im-actually-sobbing, toe tickling angst/no comfort
Hello ghost I'd like your hcs and thoughts on something
How would dazai react to his s/o dead from suicide?
(mainly out of morbid curiosity) but can you imagine how badly he would have taken it? Especially considering oda has technically killed himself as soon as he decided to fight gide.
oh, i am more than willing to entertain your morbid curiosity before bed because i think about this sometimes like a depressed psycho. let me add more to the pain: gn!reader was his fiancé and he found you. trigger warning, read at your discretion.
✝︎ when he walks into the bathroom, seeing you laying on the floor, he already knows - it doesn't stop the initial shock, even going into some denial despite it all.
۫ ׅ he shakes you, useless, but he can't rule out the possibility
۫ ׅ his hands tremble
۫ ׅ his eyes are already lining with tears
۫ ׅ wonders if there's enough time to get you to yosano
۫ ׅ he shakes you again - nothing
✝︎ when it hits him you aren't moving, not breathing, his gaze is scanning for the culprit - pills. the simplest way.
۫ ׅ "that's not fair, my darling. we were supposed to go together" - said while on the brink of weeping, unable to breathe properly
۫ ׅ he thinks he had done something wrong, even though he knew you were just as depressed as he was - he will now never get that reassurance
۫ ׅ brushes hair from your face - you're not even cold yet
۫ ׅ wonders if there's enough for him to follow you
۫ ׅ sits down with his back against the wall, staring ahead, zoning out, tears falling that he is unaware about
✝︎ stays in the bathroom with your lifeless body for a while, unmoving.
۫ ׅ his mind is blank
۫ ׅ his phone might ring, he ignores it - doesn't hear it, actually
۫ ׅ has fleeting thoughts here and there on where you got the medication to begin with
۫ ׅ how is he going to break it to your family, your friends, the agency
۫ ׅ should he follow you
✝︎ when he finally starts regaining consciousness, he just breaks down
۫ ׅ he lost another thing he wanted most
۫ ׅ feels hopeless
۫ ׅ believes he will never have the happiness he knows he doesn't deserve
۫ ׅ eventually screams when he remembers you're just lying there - you're there but not and it's driving him crazy
۫ ׅ clutches you in his arms and hates he can't hear your heartbeat
✝︎ he is internally fighting himself whether to follow you to the afterlife like he always promised or abide by oda's dying wish to be better.
۫ ׅ you made him truly feel he had gotten better
۫ ׅ you're gone
۫ ׅ oda's gone
۫ ׅ he misses you both so much already
۫ ׅ he wants to see you two again
✝︎ the neighbor finds him and has to call the emergency number to get the coroner.
۫ ׅ he won't let them take you - they had to rip him off your body
۫ ׅ threatens to crawl into the bag with you - the professional psychologist doesn't know what to do to help soothe him like they're trained to
۫ ׅ begs them to euthanize him - they're planning to admit him
۫ ׅ has to be held back from climbing into the back of the coroner's car
۫ ׅ kunikida somehow ended up there just as the doors closed and has to be the one to console him - he doesn't know what to say other than convincing them not to send him away
✝︎ he misses your funeral.
۫ ׅ he couldn't face your loved ones - he didn't have it in them to tell them he couldn't save you
۫ ׅ he sits at your grave in his suit he had prepared for the wedding that will never happen after everyone else has left and the sun is going down
۫ ׅ he tells your ghost you're selfish for making him love you then leave him
۫ ׅ he's jealous you get to see oda before him
۫ ׅ he sleeps there all night
✝︎ he never fully recovers
۫ ׅ he doesn't bother with sleeping around
۫ ׅ he doesn't bother with flirting
۫ ׅ he wears your engagement ring as a necklace
۫ ׅ brushes off any stranger that tries offering him consolation
۫ ׅ everyone at the agency is secretly on suicide watch rotation - he knows
✝︎ he never comes to a decision on if he wants to follow in your steps.
۫ ׅ you'd be waiting there for him to yell at him if he did - like a hypocrite
۫ ׅ oda might be disappointed too - like a hypocrite
✝︎ he hallucinates you.
۫ ׅ everyone just lets it happen - "he's going through the unimaginable"
✝︎ he isn't ever really the same, honestly.
۫ ׅ he'll never know why you did it - you didn't leave behind a note
these are just my headcanons on what he would do if someone he deeply loved as a significant other, so much so he wanted to marry them, committed. may be out-of-character, but a man put through the worst once already going through it again can only hold himself together so many times.
-ghxst
i love being sad.
dazai masterlist
tag list//: @dazaisfavoritemistake @luanniidae @starr3i
18!zai centric (platonic) + hint of my hcs . @grassy-air @totalruinbutidolized @eternaldeceitflour <- ppl who replied to my earlier post #scared
when osamu dazai came to speak to you for the first time, he was bearing bad news.
terrible, horrible news. the worst announcement you had ever recieved.
the boy was only eighteen. your fiancee was only twenty-three. osamu was, in essence, just like a younger brother.
he barely spoke. the words choked out of his bandaged throat, as if they threatened to strangle him. yet somehow, the words also slipped out.
you remember it vividly.
a gloomy day, two desperate knocks to your door, a distressed young boy who was drenched to the core, rain and tears mixed on his face alike. blood washed off of his hands by the harsh storm water, though, the distraught look on his face did not.
and he wasn’t wearing that bandage on his eye.
strike one.
“osamu? what happened?” you open the door a little wider, removing your jacket to dry him off. you usher him inside, but he doesn’t budge past the doorway.
strike two.
“t-there’s something,” he gulps harshly, whispering with a hiss of urgency. “that i need to tell you.”
“it can wait, i’m sure. now come inside before you catch a cold,” you wrap your jacket around his shoulders, trying to bring him inside.
“no, i don’t think you understand—” he doesn’t have the energy to be rough with you.
“i don’t care, osamu. ‘saku wants me to take care of you—”
“odasaku is dead, [name].”
strike three.
for a moment, it feels like the world stopped.
who are you kidding, the moment you found out sakunosuke—your dearest ‘saku—is dead, your world stopped. stopped moving, stop existing, stop living—sakunosuke oda was your world.
and now he’s gone.
it feels like the whole world stopped, but the storm kept raining down. the cars kept honking in traffic, and the couples down the street still ran in the rain under the same umbrella. the kids with their whole lives ahead of them still were devoid of happiness and reason to live.
the world does not stop spinning for anyone. you have come to that realisation brutally, all of a sudden.
“what…?” your mouth doesn’t work as fast as your brain, it seems.
“he was shot. he knew he would die,” and all of a sudden, the boy you never knew could show—let alone feel—emotion was shaking. fear, realisation, a break down… neither of you could tell.
he was stuttering. his hands tremble as they cover his face; they smell like a coin held onto for too long. yuck.
but it’s odasaku’s blood, thus there is something worth cherishing in it, even if it is disgusting.
he is disgusting, but odasaku still found something worth cherishing in him.
and he found something—a lot, apparently—to cherish within you, thus he should be kinder to you. one day, or perhaps under different circumstances.
“what…?” you utter it out again, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.
but it seems osamu needs to talk about it. to talk to you, someone who would listen. someone who would share the same sentiment; the same grief.
“he knew it, [name]. he knew he would die,” osamu’s hands claw at his face, slipping to his neck and finding the ends of his bandages to tug at. pulling at them, with full intention to see odasaku at the gateway between heaven and hell. he knows which man goes to which respective afterlife.
“osamu, stop that,” your voice quivers as you try prying his hands off of his neck.
he slaps your hands off of his own, expression unreadable.
but it switches from unreadable to immediately full of regret in just a second.
“i’m sorry. i’m sorry,” he desperately apologises, hands hesitant to take yours into his own. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so—”
you pull him into a hug. a desperate hug that tells him you understand.
you understand why he acted out, you understand why he’s suddenly unable to speak. you understand that he’s just a kid.
and he just lost his father figure.
sure, you lost your fiancee. husband-to-be.
there’s grief in that. a horrible, hell-ending inducing grief that makes you want to die.
but osamu’s never known anything like that.
not love, not friendship, not companionship—he’s never known familial love.
maybe not even a father figure; there was something less distinct than that. but it was just as strong. like family not by name or blood, but by connection and care.
and now, if oda was “father” in osamu’s dollhouse, you would be the other parent.
that evening, you sat on your couch with osamu’s dissociated figure laying half on your lap, and half on the floor.
you sat in silence together, tenderly stroking his hair.
one day, he will trust you enough to talk about his feelings. one day, he will accept you as a friend or member of “family”. whatever that is to him, anyway.
one day, he will tell you odasaku’s dying wish to him, in a light-hearted manner at a family dinner in a few years time. he’d laugh and nudge your shoulder as he tells you that odasaku said, “be on the side that saves people. if both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person."
one day, osamu will call you by your name without fearing the attachment he would gain to you by addressing you properly.
but for now, he’s staying with you as you both try to navigate this very odd thing called grief.
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This is all over the place like me, ugh I guess persuading him to stay a bit longer, wishful thinking on my part tbh
My works: enjoy
Bye now - Mars ♡
"Osamu?"
The detective paused, one leg dangling off the building, ready to jump
"Ah, Bella" he smiles, "Care to join me in a double suicide?" He has the audacity to offer you his hand
"No" you slowly stepped closer, "Not today" racking your brain back and forth for something to delay him from jumping
"Such a shame, truly. I'd rather die with a beautiful woman like you by my side than alone"
Stepping closer, close enough to touch him, gently cradling his hands with yours
"Come, let's go for a walk"
"But-"
"Please." The quiver in your voice stops him. He hated that you had this effect on him. Hated that he let you get close enough to his heart for you to make him pause on the one goal he dreamed of achieving.
"I wish to have this at least, one last walk?" You smiled weakly, desperately
He sighed, stepping back down, squeezing your hand in his, "It's just like you to make me stay longer in this cruel world"
Smiling, you pull further away from the edge, "Come on"
He laughs, following you down the stairs and out onto the streets as you whisk him away to wherever you please
"Bella, slow down" he laughs, hands intertwining with yours now to not let go as he runs besides you
"I want something sweet" you pulled him into the first bakery in sight
"There's always me" he flirts, happily following you to the cashier
"Whatever the lady wants"
"The lady wants you" you whisper to him as the staff packages the goodies you selected,
"Mhm, I want the lady too" he leaned into your space, thumb caressing the back of your hand
"The lady wants you to stay...alive"
The smile dropped from his face, "Bella,"
"Osamu"
...
The tension is broken by the staff setting down the bag of goodies on the counter
"We can have this conversation a million times and it won't change my mind" he sings as you both walk out of the bakery
"That doesn't make me feel better, in fact it makes me paranoid because I never know when our last conversation or kiss or fight is gonna be our last"
"Would you rather I lie to you?"
"I would rather you not be so cruel"
He sighs deeply, the rest of the walk to the park is quiet. It's uncomfortable, he knows he's upset you.
Both of you sat quietly on the bench, the space is evident between you, not only physically but also emotionally
Osamu sets the bag of pastry down between you two in an attempt to lighten the mood
"I'm mad at you" you finally looked at him
"I know"
"I want to fight with you, but I am scared"
"Fight with me, hit me, yell, scream, anything you wish my sweet love" he reaches for your hand, tightening his grip on you when you attempt to pull away
"I do not wish to hurt you, and honestly I am scared to fight with you but I want to slap you silly right now"
That makes the detective smiles, it's too bright for your likings
"Don't smile at that"
"You're hot when you get mad, I can't help it"
"I am tired, Osamu"
"Imagine how tired we are" he raises his brows
"You don't get to quote pop culture moments right now"
"It was a little funny" he moves the pastry bag to behind him, scooting over to you, "No?"
"Why did you let me fall in love with you knowing you wouldn't change? Why be so cruel to me? My heart can only take so much" you sighed, caving and hugging him tightly, "and yes I am aware of how selfish that sounds but for once I want to be selfish"
"You can be selfish"
"I cannot lose you"
"Then join me"
...
"Okay"
He squeezed you tighter, closer to his chest, "Liar, you're gonna try to talk me out of it"
"Maybe" you smiled
"Definitely, you can't lie to me, Bella"
"Worth a try" you whisper against his coat, staring at the stray cat as they shamelessly steal your pastry literally behind Osamu’s back
You simply watch as they sneakily run away with the pastries in their little mouths
"The cats stole our sweet treat" you mumble, still hugging your partner
"I have my sweet treat right here" Osamu sighs happily, placing sweet kisses along your neck
"Don't try to seduce yourself out of this, I'm still mad at you"
"Mhm"
"Stay a little longer, please, just for me"
"Bella..."
"Please, lean on me, rely on me, please please"
You sound so desperate, pleading with a man who already had his mind made up, only short of you getting down on all fours and start begging of pathetic
"I'm sorry, I can't promise you that" his voice is deep, serious, his face is blank, eyes far away,
Cupping his face, "I hate you" you leaned in and kissed him, pouring all the pain and hurt into it because your words were failing you right now
a/n :: I don't know if this is good but I've been thinking about this all day okay 😭😭
angst , 1.300k words
This is something he would've never expected to do. Something he never expect he would've needed to do. But now he has you, and you're amazing, you're his best friend, you're his love, you're his entire world. And knowing you don't know all of him is a constant torture. Besides, he also knows you won't be so happy when he'll tell you, so he doesn't exactly want to imagine how angry you would be if you had to find out yourself.
In short, everything pushes him towards this dinner.
Yes, maybe asking you out and bringing you to a restaurant in public wasn't the best choice for this sort of confession, he thinks while he unfortunately already is sat at the table and he's waiting for you to come back from the toilet you went to wash your hands.
Once you're back at the table, he suddenly feels a wave of anxiety washing over him. Not only he has to tell you he kills people for a living, but he had the idiotic idea of planning to do so in public. It's like saying 'I'm telling you here so you can't do anything crazy', except he didn't mean that at all.
"Chuuya-kun?" You title your head to the side, watching him. "Is everything okay?"
He looks up from the fork he was fidgeting with. Of course you know it's not. Amazing.
"Yes, darling." He replies, forcing a smile and putting the silverware back at its place.
You frown a little, not quite convinced, but let it slide for now.
Another couple of minutes passes in silence.
It’s different from usual. Normally, silence is a natural part of dinner, but this time it feels strange. Chuuya is looking away, but his gaze is vacant, and you can tell from his face that he’s uncomfortable.
"Chuuya, is there something you need to talk about?" You insist.
He doesn't look back at you, but fixes his gaze on the foot of a table at the other side of the room. What do I do? Do I tell her now?
His eyes shift to you table, your glass, then your face. "Yeah, I..." He sighs, looking at his own empty glass. Fuck. I didn't drink enough for this yet. "I have something important to tell you. It's... Not very nice, actually..."
You raise an eyebrow. "What happened?"
He stares at you for a long while, in silence, and somehow holding your gaze relaxes him.
"Listen, this is probably not the best moment, but... I mean, I'm tellin' you cause I love you, and I think it's better for you if you hear it from me rather than finding out the bad way..."
Now you really are confused. It almost sounds like he's about to tell you he's cheating, but no, he wouldn't.... So what is this about?
"Please, don't feel forced to be okay with this. I know we're in public and it's my fault, but..."
You frown. "Chuuya. You're confusing me. Get to the point."
He stiffens slightly. "Yes. Right." His voice lowers to almost a whisper. There's a short pause before he speaks again. "I have never told you about my job, and you never asked, but..." He takes a deap breath, tapping his fingers in the table. Get to the point. "I'm in the Port Mafia."
A moment of silence. Only the muffled sounds coming from the kitchen and the steps of the waiters filling the room.
Well, maybe rather that a moment it's a whole minute.
"What?" You finally speak.
Chuuya opens his mouth to explain further, but closes it almost immediately, not knowing what else to say.
"This is a joke, right?"
He shakes his head "No..."
You stare at him. Somehow, the new sill hasn't quite sank into your brain and this situation feels extremely weird and stupid.
"You're a mafioso?" You repeat, almost looking for a confirmation.
He nods.
Silence again.
You lean your elbows on the table, holding your face in your hands. What the hell is happening? Why now? What do you... what are you supposed to do?
"I don't know what to say." You whisper.
"I... can understand." He sighs, taking off his hat and running his finger through his hair. "If you want to leave, I understand."
"I... I don't know what I want to do." You say, your forehead on your palm.
A waiter stops at your table. You don't raise your head and you don't quite hear what Chuuya tells him, but you don't care right now.
When the man is gone, Chuuya looks back at you.
"Babe, I mean, you know I love you... and I would.... I wish for you to stay, but I know you don't feel the same right now, so..."
You look up. "Did you lie?"
He raise both his eyebrows, surprised. "What?"
"Have you lied about, I don't know, something else?"
He blinks. "No."
"No?"
"No." He repeats, perplexed.
You think for a moment. "And... what do you do? No, don't answer." You sight. "Fuck." You hiss, voice low so no one else can hear you.
Chuuya looks down at the handkerchief on his lap when you swear, his hands holding it so tight his knuckles turn white.
He hates this feeling. It's... it's all his fault. That you're in distress.
I should've left. Should've left without a word, would've been better.
"Babe..." he'd want to tell you to go home and not worry about the resturant, but his voice cracks and the words die in his throat. He feels it tightening.
He's fought and won hundreds of people, so why doesn't he have the courage to look at you?
He frowns. What is this feeling? This... His chest aches. His eyes... How long has it been since he last cried? Fuck, he can't cry in public. His reputation would be ruined, and besides... you'd see him....
He realizes he wasn't breathing and inhales sharply.
"I just want you to be happy." That's what he would want to say. But his body isn't cooperating, and instead of pronouncing those words he feels a drop of water fall on the back of his gloved hand. It remains spherical for a few seconds, then suddenly gets absorbed by the fabric.
Did he really think he could have a normal life? That he could have a relationship, give you the life you deserve, and... Marry you, and... Children... Shit.
Now his breathing is ragged and his face is burning, pearls of water falling from his eyes. It's so fucking embarrassing.
Things probably couldn't have gone worse than this.
You finally look back at him.
Well, that sight was not what you expected. You stare at him wide eyed for a moment. You've never seen him crying, did you?
"Chuuya-kun?" You call out, even though you don't really know what you will say.
"Hm?" He grunts, drying his tears with his gloved hands. He doesn't look up and hold his face in his hands.
You fall silent again.
"I..." no, wrong. "You..." no, wrong. What to say? What to do? And yet, you have to say something. He's in such a state... It's almost unbelievable.
"I feel weird... I know what I should feel... and partly I do feel it... I wish you had told me before... I don't want to trust you anymore but... I do... And... I also don't want to leave... I don't know..."
He looks at you, his blue eyes wide and watery. "You don't... Want to leave?"
You think for a moment, then shake your head. "No..."
"You should..."
"I know."
He sniffs, his cheeks red both from crying and from embarrassment. "I love you..."