“Do you know why a double suicide is so desirable?”
Pain and exhaustion thrums through Chuuya’s body. Her arms are droopy from supporting Dazai’s weight on the way back from their mission together and the hardness of Dazai’s futon aren’t doing her back any favors, especially with how close the two have to squeeze together to fit on it. But her legs. Her legs are feeling it the worst. Why is it that you only realize how tired and sore your legs are when you rest? She wishes there was something warm to put over them, even just as a placebo, but the only thing close to a painkiller in Dazai’s shipping container (she’s not calling it a house, no way) is the alcohol.
…And the painkillers, but she doesn’t trust Dazai’s personal collection.
So, in pain and squashed against this wretched girl, Chuuya isn’t in the mood to entertain her suicidal fantasies. For one, she’s too tired to engage in their usual back-and-forth. Two, she doesn’t want Dazai to talk herself into doing something stupid. Especially now, when Chuuya’s body has given up all but vital functions.
The body beside hers shifts to nudge an elbow right into her waist. Chuuya’s body jumps minutely, sensitive especially in that spot, and she groans irritably at the brunette. Not like she’d ever listen.
“Mm? Chuuya-kun isn’t asleep yet, so don’t pretend.”
“No…” She manages to say. “But I would really like to be, so shut up.”
A needy and incredibly annoying moan is made directly against Chuuya’s ear. As if that isn’t enough Dazai actually finds a way to slot her body in even closer into Chuuya’s side, sticking them together like puzzle pieces. Her body is surprisingly warm underneath the thin excuse of a blanket they’re underneath. Maybe if Chuuya knocked her out, she could drape her over her legs? But then wouldn’t she get cold if she’s unconscious, that’s the question. Never mind that Chuuya’s in no state to open her eyes, never mind clock the other girl in the face.
“Please listen. Don’t leave me alone in this terrible, dark place.”
No disagreement there. This place is creepy. The metal keeps stretching and yawning around them. “This ‘terrible, dark place’ is your bed, moron.”
“Breaking into my home, forcing me into bed, and laying with me? You’re a criminal, Chuuya.”
A criminal. That doesn’t make her laugh. Barely; what escaped her was the kind of sound people could mistake for an energetic exhale. Hardly a laugh at all. But she feels Dazai’s lips smiling against her shoulder anyway, because of course she would take that as a win. Chuuya isn’t awake enough to use her shoulder to bump that smile off of her face. “You’re the one trying to convince me to commit suicide with you.”
Dazai makes a disgusted sound that Chuuya feels against her arm. “As if I would waste myself on you! Can you imagine reaching Hell together? The devil himself would laugh.”
“An afterlife stuck with you is exactly why nobody wants to do it.” Chuuya says to distract herself from how Dazai is slowly but surely inching her body over hers. She’s turned onto her right side at some point, allowing her to rest her left leg over Chuuya’s. What a pain. She can’t complain though because she knows Dazai will just take it as an opener to make fun of her height. Because apparently there’s no such thing as short women in Dazai’s world.
(Which isn’t wrong. Seriously, what are they feeding the women in the Port Mafia? More importantly, why isn't Chuuya getting some of it?)
Dazai settles her face cozily in the nook of Chuuya’s neck and sighs. It tickles the redhead’s skin and she’s loathe to admit that it doesn’t feel entirely horrible. Not like Dazai’s very cold foot that’s trying to curl in between Chuuya’s legs for warmth. She forces blood into her arm to whack it against Dazai’s side but the other woman catches it and takes the opportunity to wrap her fingers around Chuuya’s.
Chuuya doesn’t like it when Dazai is like this. It’s… there are a lot of words she could use but none of them come close to the simplest: weird. The first time Dazai did something like this was when they were sitting next to each other and she very, very slowly inched her way over until she was sitting in Chuuya’s lap. Back then Chuuya’s breath had caught in her throat and she almost, almost closed her eyes when Dazai leaned her face in close enough for her hair to brush against Chuuya’s cheeks. Only for the freak to jump back off and wave goodbye without even turning around.
It's happened three more times since then. The third of those being right now, as Chuuya has realized. And that realization spells disaster. Not the disaster like being called up the Boss’s office foretells, or even the feeling of herself slipping away as Corruption warps her into oblivion. It’s like they’re doing something wrong and they’re only seconds away from somebody finding out.
In these moments she forgets that they’re both leagues above 99% of the mafia as executives. There’s no protection, no hiding. How can Dazai do it? Of course everything that woman does is a lie, so she can’t personally care about the twisting feelings within Chuuya, but…
“Get off.”
“Nuh-uh.” And just for good measure Dazai moves their hands so they rest on Chuuya’s right side. It’s more comfortable for her than before but it also means that Dazai has succeeded in wrapping more of herself around her. What next? Literally lying on top of her? She’s like a cat sometimes.
"I think it would be nice to die with someone.”
Oh great. “I’m trying to sleep and so should you.”
Naturally, she’s ignored. “So many people live and die alone. Some of us are born alone, you know. Nothing happens to them to make them the way they are; it’s the nature of who they are. Love… it’s not possible. How can you love something you don’t understand? Especially when you’re ruined from the beginning.” Dazai sighs and doesn’t say anything more. Chuuya actually hopes she’s fallen asleep, until- “Can you imagine someone choosing to die with you? Thinking about it together, planning it, making everything perfect for each other…”
“You make it sound like getting married.”
“Yes...” Dazai snuggles into her. “That sort of painless wedding… for something like me…”
When Dazai’s breathing evens out, Chuuya lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in. She closes her eyes and tries to lose herself to the darkness of herself. The shipping container continues creaking. At one point, within Chuuya’s half-sleep, she feels Dazai roll onto her back and Chuuya takes the opportunity to dislodge the other's foot from her legs. She’s too tired to pry their hands apart. By the feeling of Dazai’s grip tightening every few minutes, she’d probably reach out and find Chuuya’s hand open for her anyway.
As sleep tempts her, she thinks of a bandage-white dress, a noose for two, and a kiss.