#dzat

ryuunosuke's hand automatically flies to cup the aforementioned part, warm--too warm, beneath a layer of the woolen sweater. the coarse texture of it catches upon a particularly sensitive skin there, and he grits his teeth at the brief flash of discomfort.

next to him, atsushi is taking his towel out of his locker, the flush on his cheek and perspiration-soaked shirt the only indication that he just went out for a run around their university's track field. "the weather's not that cold anymore. are you sick or something?" ryuunosuke wonders how someone could be so infuriatingly oblivious. t"maybe you shouldn't come in for the day-"

"no, it's fine." he snaps, much too quick for atsushi to finish his sentence, earning him a raise of a brow from the younger boy. "i mean- i'm fine." ryuunosuke breathes out a sigh. "it's nothing to worry about."

"you sure? you're walking all weirdly though. don't think i didn't notice."

one thing ryuunosuke learned from atsushi is that the boy can be quite relentless with his concern, in spite of their mutually proclaimed rivalry. if he keeps this lie up there's no telling when he'll be able to shower- and then he'll be late for his job.

he counts to five, gathering as much courage as he could muster before finally removing his turtleneck.

a soft thud resounded in the empty locker room--a bar of soap, he assumes--and he hears rather than sees atsushi gape. "holy shit."

"don't say a word of this to anyone." warmth creeps up to his cheeks as he rubbed the lovebites scattered all over the expanse of his neck and collarbones.

the boy nodded, swallowing dryly. ryuunosuke can feel his eyes still lingering on his bared neck before another question is posed. "is it nakahara-san?"

ryuunosuke rolls his eyes. "who else would it be?" 

in turn, atsushi sounds like he's short-circuiting, overwhelmed from the sudden influx of new information. "i... yeah, this is too much. didn't think nakahara-san would be this... wild."

at this, he scoffs. "please, this is nothing compared to what i gave to him."

"....huh?" 

atsushi's voice is tiny. ryuunosuke bites down an amused snort as he shut his locker close and walks towards one of the shower stalls. might as well go all the way in now that he's already soaked.

"let's just say i was feeling generous enough to leave them on places other than just his neck."

somewhere behind him, atsushi sputters, and ryuunosuke doesn't suppress the smirk that stretches his lips before closing the door behind him.

---

"chuuya!! is that a hickey??"

chuuya registers a flash of brown on his peripheral before he felt a jab on his neck, causing him to cry out in startled pain. he swats away the offending finger, sending a glare towards dazai before covering the sensitive skin with his hand.

"the fuck are you doing in my office, asshole?!" his eyes flit to the wooden double door across the room, where dazai had just strolled inside without even knocking. he must've been too caught up in catching up with his paperwork that he didn't hear his footsteps.

and the audacity of this no good waste of space to clasp his hand together, lips forming an 'o' shape instead of answering his question. "ooh- scratch that. they're hickeys, plural!" and god, does that makes his face even more punchable than usual. "someone had fun last night, huh?" 

"fuck off. it's not a hickey." chuuya grumbles, rubbing the spot as if it would make the lovebites disappear. dazai rolls his eyes.

"yeah right, you're saying you let akutagawa-kun pinch your neck dozens of times or something?"

"wha- what does ryuu--akutagawa has to do with anything??" 

"shorty, please. i've known you since we were still on the same height. you ought to give me more credit, y'know." dazai huffs, gesturing absentmindedly to the air. "i saw you giving him heart eyes during yesterday's meeting, and don’t tell me you just thought his tie was nice because i also know that you’re the one who bought it for him."

sometimes chuuya wonders what kind of atrocity he had committed in his past life that warranted him the misfortune of having osamu-fucking-dazai as his foster brother.

"as if you’re not doing the exact same thing with nakajima, you hypocrite." chuuya snipes back.

this time dazai clicks his tongue, waving his index finger on his face. for a moment chuuya contemplates on snapping it in half. "this isn't about me. this is about you! i can't believe my dearest older brother finally got his eyes on someone~ his personal assistant, nonetheless! how scandalous!"

"tch- shut the fuck up, mackerel." he mumbles into the surface of his leather gloves, willing away the warmth that has already begun to set upon his cheeks. "go back to work before i call oda on you."

at this, dazai scratches his head, looking almost guileless had chuuya not known the true nature of the shithead. "see, odasaku is in ango's office. i got bored with no one to annoy."

pushing him off of the roof of their office has never sounded this tempting before.