Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He calls himself Tsushima Shuuji.

He has never been picky about names. That one suits him well enough. It’s a perfectly normal one that makes it easy for him to blend in. An average guy with an average name working an average job in an average small town where everyone knows everyone. It took a while when he arrived, but he’s now one of them. As someone with only a high school degree, he can’t complain.

The job is boring. His colleagues are gossips. The town… hell, it takes a lot of zooming in on the map to show it. Tourists are rare there, foreigners rarer still. Outside, the beautiful woman everyone in town knows is half Japanese walks past the storefront. She holds her hat down on her head while the wind tries to pull it off. Her dress billows around her legs. She’s smiling despite the weather, like she doesn't know she’s stranded.

He would ask her to die with him, but he hasn’t made a serious attempt in years. His job, boring as it is, leaves him too tired to commit. Odasaku would hate it. That’s reason enough. But his loud declarations of wanting to die are so characteristic that even in such an isolated place, he doesn’t want to take the risk.

What he’s doing isn’t living. But it’s not dying, either.

He spends his days off shopping online, not daring to leave the town for fear that someone would recognize him. Slowly, a forest of books begins to grow up towards the ceiling. Despite how anxious material possessions used to make him, the books make his apartment feel cozier and more like home. He gets lost in their pages for hours and hours. He almost reaches a point where he wants to write himself. It’s more likely his work will be overlooked, but on the off chance it attracts recognition… that’s something he’s determined to avoid.

Normally, after his work day ends, he swings by the convenience store in town—one that, unlike those he left behind, is not open for twenty-four hours—to grab whatever discount bento or sushi is for sale. Sometimes, he buys sake, too. He carries his bag back to his apartment, where he grazes on the food with one hand while turning pages with another. It takes an abnormally long time, but at least it happens.

Unlike back then.

Today, he walks to the bar, whistling the tune of his old suicide song. When he arrives, the bartender greets him by name. “What’ll it be today, Tsushima-kun?”

“Whiskey on the rocks.” He seats himself at the bar. “And some edamame.” It’s what he always gets, what he’s used to… maybe it’s not living, but it’s comfortable enough.

As the bartender prepares his drink, she makes small talk about his job, his day generally… he answers each question with a calm smile. Once he has his alcohol and snack, he starts to hope the crab rolls are on sale.

Then, out of nowhere, he thinks of everything that happened before.

A phone call was the catalyst for his disappearance. “He’s dead, Dazai.” A world-shattering statement. At eighteen, he couldn’t imagine a world without Odasaku.

That night, he stopped short of making a call that might have changed the trajectory of his life, viewing it as pointless. He had nothing. He still does.

Well, maybe not nothing. There is his everyday existence.

He doesn't know why he picked this town. Honestly, early that morning, he got on a train with a sack of cash he had been slowly withdrawing from his account and a framed photo and just… went somewhere. He later paid a pretty large sum of that money to someone in Tokyo’s underground to forge him a new identity. With a new name and a vow to stop talking about dying, he vanished, leaving nothing behind but a cluttered closet scattered with belongings he had no attachment to and an apartment that somehow seems shabbier than the one he now lives in.

He left no note. A note would tempt some to search harder.

Soon after he disappeared, he read news articles that made him sound like an accomplished human, often accompanied with pictures of him from his school yearbooks. The words in those articles were always kind, as if the people he left behind valued him. Even his parents, shadows in the background of his life, come forward and beg him to come home. He laughed at every single one before tossing the newspaper away or going back to a web comic.

I’d call those lies, he thinks, sipping the whiskey and trying not to hiss as it slides down his throat. But it’s more accurate to call them bullshit.

The bartender greets another customer. He continues to nibble at his food, skimming a book he downloaded to his phone earlier. From the corner of his eye, he catches the other customer’s figure.

Odd that anyone would sit directly next to me when the whole damn bar is empty.

He doesn’t catch the customer’s order. He half pays attention to the bartender’s objection about that being all. The customer calmly explains that’s the extent of the order, and the bartender, probably scowling, darts around behind the bar to fulfill it. She asks the typical questions. The customer answers. It’s nice background noise for reading.

At least, until she says, “You’re not from here, are you?”

“I’m passing through.” The ice cubes clink beside him. “Actually, I’m looking for something.”

“Mmm… if it’s that festival we have, that’s not until October…”

“No, no… I’m sorry, but I’m not a tourist.” The customer sips. The glass returns to the counter. The ice cubes inside clink again. This time, he glances at it. Spying the red, slightly thick drink inside, he feels himself start to swear. The customer continues, “What I’m looking for isn’t an object or a place but an old friend.”

Damn it, he thinks, pretending he’s still focused on his phone.

“Maybe not a friend, all things considered.”

Don’t you say it, his mind screams.

The customer reaches for his glass. “The way everything ended between us… I wouldn’t be surprised if ‘friend’ was the farthest thing he would call me.”

Don’t say it, you traitor. He reaches for his whiskey, doing his best to keep his hand steady.

“Well,” the bartender says, “maybe you two can make up if you find them.”

“I imagine it would be difficult,” the customer continues, “but it’s something I’d be willing to try. He’s one of the most unforgiving people I know.”

Don’t you dare—

“Isn’t that right, Dazai-kun?”

That name… he hasn’t heard that name in over four years. It’s startling. If this were a movie, he’d probably drop his glass, and it would shatter the silence. Fight, flee… he wavers between both before telling himself, Fuck it, and turning to the customer with a smile. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Ango-kun?”

Ango, with his usual brown suit, sips his tomato juice with a neutral expression. The bartender, puzzled, remains behind the counter.

“Would you be opposed to finishing this conversation in a more private setting? You see, this is a small town, and I don’t want people talking.”

“How unfortunate,” Ango states, pulling out his clearly expensive wallet. “Very well. I’m happy to cover your drink.”

“Don’t bother,” he counters, pulling his own wallet out. “You’re a guest here. It’s only natural I pay. Although…” Dazai pulls a stack of bills out of his wallet and slides them across the counter. “You should call me Tsushima Shuuji in public. I don’t want to confuse anyone.”

He thinks Ango shudders at his smirk. As he should, he tells himself. To the bartender, he states, “I threw in a little extra so this incident doesn’t go beyond these walls until I want it to. That could be tomorrow. That could be never. As a beautiful woman who knows my regular order by heart, I’d appreciate your cooperation in making sure it stays where it belongs.” Dazai stands and slips his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Tsushima—”

“I’ll be fine,” he calls in answer, smiling. She’s a kind person.

Ango hovers at his shoulder as they leave. “Where are we going?” he asks.

He turns and, with a smile, answers, “I have a few places in mind.”

As tempting as it is to take Ango to the cliffs and shove his sorry ass over, he settles on a hotel near the edge of town. He instructs Ango to book a room and says he’ll come up a few minutes later if he turns the light on and off twice. “I already know you’re going to run off.”

“Please,” he retorts. “Betrayal is more your thing.”

“Disappearing is more yours,” Ango counters, but he complies.

He contemplates a cigarette while he waits, but he doesn’t have any. A vending machine nearby sells them, but he doesn’t want to miss the sign. He stares up at the windows, listening to the crossing behind him start to ding. The gates are probably sliding down. Before long, a train rolls into the puny station. He’s certain people get off, but he’s more focused on watching for Ango.

He sees it: a yellow light flickering behind a window. Calculating the floor and room number, he steps inside, ascends the elevator, and locates the correct door before knocking.

He was right. Ango opens the door, wearing his usual frown. He enters without a word. The minute the door shuts, he says, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Ango-kun? I thought you said all you needed to me the night Odasaku died.”

“I barely said anything.”

“That was by design, I imagine.” He sheds his coat. “You would never admit out loud it was your fault he died.”

Ango stares at the floor and grimaces.

“That’s what I thought.”

The other man’s hands curl into fists. “You’re hard to find.”

“I paid a lot of money to make sure I was.”

“Not enough.”

He shrugs. “If you’re the only person he tells—”

“I will be.”

Something about how Ango says that feels ominous. He decides not to ask. “What’s the point of tracking me down anyway? You’re not dragging me back to Yokohama, and I’m sure as hell not taking up whatever job you and Odasaku were on when he died.”

The breath that Ango draws after sounds difficult. It’s hard to listen to, maybe even harder to draw. Ango’s brows scrunch up like he’s thinking of something. Finally, he says, “Perhaps I’m here for closure.”

“Closure,” he echoes.

Ango shrugs his own jacket off. “You ran away from your grief. I worked so I wouldn’t have to think of mine.”

He lurches forward and grabs Ango’s collar. “You think you’re going to find closure through me?” With a bitter scoff, he states, “You’re a real piece of work, Ango-kun.”

Ango doesn’t react. Composed as usual, the government employee just meets his gaze. Seeing scaring Ango off isn’t an option, he lets the shirt collar go.

Eventually, he asks, “So what’s your price for keeping quiet?”

Ango straightens his glasses. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Come on, Ango-kun… I don’t have to worry about Saki-san at the bar. She’ll never tell a soul. But you? You have a price. So name it. I’ll see it done if it means I don’t have to go back.”

Ango sighs again. This one somehow seems more difficult than the last.

“Money? Information? Sex?” He tacks the last one on as a joke, but Ango turns an interesting color. Snickering, he folds his arms. “My, my, Ango-kun… you certainly have some questionable tastes. I was only eighteen when we parted ways. Some people might think poorly of you if word got out.”

“Rest assured, Dazai-kun.” Ango peers up at him. “I didn’t want this from the eighteen-year-old you.”

He tries not to see Ango’s words as sincere, fails, and says, “Why me?”

“Because Odasaku-san is gone, and you’re the only other person who understands how much that hurts.”

He winds up laughing. The whole situation is absurd: Ango’s presence and proposition, his borderline cute reaction of blushing and turning away, all while trying to maintain his usual composure… as satisfying as it would be to tell Ango no, he’s actually entertaining the notion. It’s been a while since he got laid. He’s not picky on the person he has sex with.

There is, however, one logistical problem. “You’re not interested in men,” he points out.

Ango adjusts his tie. “I’m making an exception.”

“So you’re curious about how it feels with a man?”

“I’m curious how it feels with you,” Ango answers.

Sighing, Dazai creeps forward, smooths Ango’s tie, and slowly starts to loosen it. “Don’t regret this in the morning.”

Ango meets his eyes. “I don’t plan to.”

It takes ages to get to the bed and even longer to get comfortable enough to remove any amount of his clothes. Ango, patient as always, waits for him when the situation calls for it. He can feel Ango staring at his bandaged body, his half-hard cock, his steady frown. “You know how this works, don’t you?”

Ango spreads himself out on the bed and removes his glasses, the last remaining thing he’s wearing. “I’m sure I’m in good hands,” he answers.

As satisfying as it would be to rail Ango into the mattress, he doesn’t want this to be more intimate than it needs to be. He grinds his cock against Ango’s, watching his normally composed expression morph into some needy, filthy form of pleasure. Eventually, Ango’s hands settle on his hips, and they fall into a rhythm that gets them both there in the end. Ango comes first, shuddering and arching up. Dazai pants as he follows.

It should feel better than it does.

Afterwards, he puts his boxers back on. Ango just wraps his formerly discarded shirt around himself. They sit on opposite ends of the bed, backs facing each other.

“How was it?” Ango ventures.

He snickers. “Terrible.” He listens to the wordless objection Ango lets out and answers with a laugh. “Don’t be sour, Ango-kun. You’re new to this. You make some interesting faces when you’re feeling good, and I guess your cock is a pretty decent size—” Another yelp interrupts him. “But it took you way too long to warm up, and I didn’t really feel any thought behind it.”

With a groan, Ango murmurs, “I… wish you had been a little less harsh about it.”

“I’m only being honest.” Dazai flops down on the bed. “Something you could stand to do a little more, Ango-kun.”

“Says the man living under a different name.”

He hates to admit it, but Ango has a point.

Once he recovers fully, he rises and slinks to the bathroom to redress. Something about putting his clothes back on in Ango’s sight… actually, Ango hasn’t even put his glasses back on yet. Still, the thought of dressing in Ango’s presence feels uncomfortable somehow, even if bits of clothing did come off.

Ango must have worn himself out searching. When he returns, he finds the man stretched out, eyes closed, lips parted a little.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel right to leave, so he stays. Fortunately, the room has two beds. He sleeps for shit, unaccustomed to the noise from the train station, hyper aware of Ango’s presence. For his trouble, he gets a cup of coffee Ango made in the morning. As they drink, he ponders. “Ango-kun.”

“Hmm?”

“Is one time really enough to cure your grief?”

Ango shrugs. “You said it was bad.”

“It’s always bad the first time.”

The man sitting across from him lifts his eyes from his coffee. “Did it help you grieve at all?”

“It helped me live,” he admits.

With a grim nod, Ango says, “I can’t ask you to do this again.”

“Ah, ah, ah, Ango-kun… I learned my lesson since you mentioned the guy who crafted this identity. A one-time payment won’t buy silence, but an ongoing one will.” He peers at Ango to find the man staring back, silently questioning everything he just said.

“How long?”

“Until one of us gets tired of it?”

“Too vague,” Ango objects.

In reply, he shrugs. “Three months? You can come up here every few weeks to let off some steam.”

“That… fine.”

He goes down first, leaving Ango in the room to check out. As he steps into the morning sun, he realizes something. Four years after losing Odasaku, he has finally started to grieve.

Chapter Text

“Tsushima-san!”

He’s still calling himself that. It helps that everyone else does.

Well, almost everyone else.

Smiling, he turns and greets the child racing towards him. As someone constantly wrapped in bandages, he has a bit of a reputation in town. The adults fortunately have more sense than to believe that beneath them are yakuza tattoos stretching up both of his arms. The boy chatters about anime and school at a speed he manages to keep up with, nodding to indicate he’s paying attention. In other words, it’s a totally normal conversation with a child he only knows because everyone in this town knows everybody else.

At least, until he says, “I heard one of the mafia bosses came down to see you.”

“Oh?” He smiles. “What do they say he looked like?”

“Like the kind of guy who could watch someone die and feel nothing at all.”

He thinks about it. That fits Ango to a tee in one respect for another.

“Nah, just kidding. He was just some nerd with glasses.”

That also sounds like Ango. He tells himself something about the duality of man and makes some comment he forgets soon after. It’s as meaningless as the rest of the words he has to say, if he’s being honest. The kid races off to see a friend. Still bandaged, still broken, he remains where he stands, a bit shell shocked to hear about Ango at all outside of their meetings. Ango is coming back soon. Tomorrow, actually. He already has plans to make Ango suffer a little. It’s the least he deserves for what happened to Odasaku, after all. It’s pretty typical for him to take an almost petty pleasure in someone else’s minor inconveniences.

Especially if that someone is responsible for Odasaku’s demise.

Well, he tells himself, tucking his bandaged hands away. I’ll probably be feeling satisfied enough when I put my plan into action.

He has to be the one with the plan. The only one with the plan. He doesn’t know if Ango can one-up him, but he has doubts. Then again, Ango has shown himself to be shrewd in prior situations, not the least of which was the night that old photo was taken.

Maybe Odasaku knew this was going to happen thanks to Flawless, but Ango also has an ability, one that seems to work by touch. Just around the time the eighteen-year-old version of him was about to get arrested, Ango touched the officer’s wallet and announced in no uncertain terms, “If the law means that much to you, I suppose I should tell your supervisor about the money you’ve been laundering.”

That night, Ango said something that he hasn’t thought of in years, not until now. “There are two kinds of laws: those that cause no harm to break, and those that cause harm in some capacity. In my mind, having a sip of whiskey underage has always felt more like the former.”

Odasaku said something to him about not being a judge or jury, but Ango simply shrugged.

“Unlike the people who leave them behind, memories don’t lie. People can choose to forget, or their trauma can make them misremember. They can be false and incorrect, but never dishonest.”

He wonders what sorts of memories Ango would read if he touched the items scattered around Tsushima Shuuji’s living space. Would he see the honest effort on Tsushima’s part to build a life that both is and isn’t his own? Would he appreciate the duplicity of presenting his false name to a town that couldn’t care less who he is? Would Sakaguchi Ango glimpse the nights where he was too tired to jerk off, or the ones where he drank to avoid the pain of loss that has faded but never really gone away?

Come to think of it, he tells himself, I don’t even know why he’s here. Well… just another piece of information to extract from him…

Mentally, he jokes about making a list. Before long, the joke becomes something more serious. He actually contemplates writing them down. Ultimately, he doesn’t, but the way that thought begins to border on a serious notion… something about it troubles him.

Tomorrow at once lags and rushes in its arrival. It takes a million blinks. At the same time, it only takes one. They meet at the same hotel as before in the same room, confirming before either of them go in that their approach will be the same as last time. While Ango checks in, he takes stock. If nothing else, Ango will be squirming by the end of the night.

The tell-tale flicker of light comes from one of the windows, and he approximates the room number from that alone. Just like last time, he finds the room without issue. Ango opens the door after he knocks, and he slips inside, shrugging off his coat as he crosses the threshold.

“Dazai-kun.”

The name jars him a little bit. He totally forgot he wasn’t just Tsushima Shuuji. With a neutral hum, he turns around.

“I know it wasn’t good for you last time—”

“It wasn’t good for either of us,” he corrects Ango. His coat rustles while he hangs it. Ango is still wearing his suit jacket. “So?”

“So… this time, I’m planning on making it better for you.”

He tips his head. “How?”

“You’ll see.”

Just like that, Dazai finds himself damned. He can’t very well pretend Ango hasn’t presented him with a puzzle, the likes of which he has never really been faced with. Usually, his partners don’t need to improve and it’s good enough for both of them, but the thought of better sex with Ango empties his head of all thoughts and schemes.

It doesn’t help that Ango’s touch on his shoulders is gentle. He knows as soon as they connect, Discord on Decadence vanishes, and Ango ceases to read any sort of memories that could be on his clothing. For a minute, he anticipates a kiss. Instead, he gets ushered to the bed, Ango’s glasses glinting forebodingly.

“I did more research,” Ango announces as he wrestles “Tsushima” to bed.

Only it’s not “Tsushima” at all. He knows who he is. It’s just easier not to remember.

“I believe I’ve developed a few strategies that may be of interest to you.”

He squirms and whines, “Ango-kun, I don’t like pain—”

Ango passes him a bland look. “That is the last thing I’m planning.”

Despite that reassurance, he continues to flail until Ango pins him down with a stern, “Sit still,” and sets his hands on the buttons. The shirt he put on as Tsushima Shuuji still hides his body.

Ango saw how lanky he was last time they did this, probably got a peak at what was under a couple of the bandages. He does his best to smile like he's unfazed by all of this.

At least, until Ango’s knee shifts in a way that delivers a fraction of the pleasure Dazai was looking for in this the first time they did it. He lets out all his anticipation out of his mouth as sighs.

“You’re shockingly cooperative when you’re feeling a little good.”

As tempted as he is to mouth off and say it’s no good, it feels better at the moment than it did last time. Ango’s hand rests in the middle of his chest. Before long, the weight of the man’s ass falls squarely on his groin, delivering too much pressure but not giving enough. Displeased, he clicks his tongue. Maybe he’s willing to let Ango upend his plans for the night, but he doesn’t plan on displaying how needy he is just yet.

Ango’s hand presses on his face, and their eyes line up. “Odasaku-san always said you were bratty.”

The mention of his dead friend and mentor kills the mood entirely, but they continue anyway. For a moment, he thinks Ango is going to dip and kiss him. Instead, the man above him studies his face with such intensity, he remembers what it is to carry the name that’s actually his.

Sure enough, Ango says, “That name, Dazai-kun…” He feels Ango’s hands at his belt. “It could have gotten you anything in the world.”

“No,” he answers, spreading his legs a little farther as his zipper opens. His cock, eager, strains against his boxers. Rather than attend to it, Ango starts unbuttoning his own shirt. He’s going so slow, he actually demands, “Ango-kun, if you don’t get on with it—”

“Relax,” Ango demands.

A wrecked hiss works its way out of his mouth as Ango squeezes him through his boxers.

“I didn’t forget about this. Now, behave yourself and let me get undressed.”

Snickering, he answers, “Commiting to the bit a little too much, aren't you, Ango-kun?”

“What makes you think this is a bit?”

“You keep shifting your eyes, for one. You do that when you’re nervous.” He continues watching Ango. “And now, you’re pushing your glasses up and huffing. You think you’re good at hiding your emotions?”

“I know I am,” Ango answers.

With another laugh, he adds, “There’s not a sincere bone in your body. I’ve never met anyone so easy to see through.”

In return, Ango squeezes his cock again. Keening, he arches into the slow stroke, then whimpers as Ango’s hand recedes. “There you are, Dazai-kun. There’s that vicious look.”

“Get me off already.”

“I’d rather not.”

To his displeasure, he finds himself receiving a slow handjob that stops every time Ango feels the need to remedy his own clothing situation. From his standpoint, it looks like Ango is splitting his attention between too many things. When Ango’s shirt is totally open, he peers down again. “What’s your name?”

“Tsushima Shu—fuck…” He bites his lip as Ango teases the head of his cock.

“Say your real name if you want to come, or else I’ll think this was all an elaborate body double scheme to annoy me.”

Determined, Dazai inches a hand up Ango’s cock, but Ango catches it before it reaches its destination. “It’s no good if I’m the only one who comes,” he retorts.

“That’s the point.” Ango’s slow strokes continue. “I need you to say it, Dazai-kun. Just once. So I know I’ve found what I was looking for.”

In the showdown of barked orders, he breathes, “I’m no one. Most days, I’m not even human.”

“Wrong.”

He bucks up to reach Ango’s fingers and fails to find them. At this rate, he really will get desperate. With a severe pout, Dazai lowers his hips to the bed again. “Don’t tell me… you going to go on some speech about how an erection makes me human?”

Ango passes him a blase look. “You can’t seriously think—”

“Come on, already,” Dazai demands, spreading his legs farther.

Ango’s look changes, but if asked how, Dazai couldn’t define it in words aside from saying his intent changed.

“I fingered myself plenty before I came here, Ango-kun.”

“Why?”

Dazai shrugs. “Just thought I’d make it easier for you.”

“To do… what exactly?”

“To fuck me. Or hurt me.” He looks up at Ango. “Don’t tell me you haven’t even done the research to have sex with another man properly. Ango-kun is so pure, he’ll probably come the minute he’s inside of—”

A hand presses down on his mouth. He catches a dark look in Ango’s eyes. For an instant, he worries Ango is actually going to do it. “Tonight, and every night I’m here, you're not Tsushima Shuuji.”

The gentle words startle him, and Ango goes back to undressing him far enough to do this properly. His slacks slide down his own legs as Ango continued.

“You’re not just some guy living in a little town no one has ever heard of. You’re not just the person who knows everyone who lives here for the sake of blending in.”

“You want me to be someone else? Kinky,” he remarks, but he finds his own voice sounds… different. “Who’s that, hmm?” He’d never admit it, but he finds it undeniably sexy when Ango pulls a little packet of lube out of his pocket before discarding his slacks and boxers. They land on the floor with his own, and with the matching brown jacket.

It turns out to be nothing compared to the sight of Ango rolling a condom down his own cock with way too much focus.

Just as his mind is getting fuzzy, the cold drip of lube lands against his rim, and he yelps. And that’s nothing compared to the press of Ango’s erection against his body. “Say your name.”

“I refuse.”

“Then you’re not getting anything else tonight.”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“Oh, I would,” Ango murmurs, hunching over him. The threat of a kiss hangs above him, and he turns away only for Ango to murmur into his ear, “As a government employee working for the Special Division for Unusual Powers, I’ve been trained to endure all sorts of torture. Although not formally trained in administering them, I have an aptitude for picking things up quickly.”

Desperate, he fists the covers.

“I wouldn’t torture an old friend.”

“I seriously doubt that,” he answers.

Ango’s breath falls hot on his temple. “But Tsushima Shuuji is no friend of mine.”

His pride and horniness both keep him silent. Still, his mind works. Giving Ango what he wants tonight might be interesting and make their next encounter all the more disappointing. Unable to pass up the opportunity, he’s willing to give a little.

“Say your name.”

“Dazai… Osamu.”

The shadow over him moves away. Peering up, Dazai sees a slight smile on Ango’s face. The pressure against his rim returns, making his cock twitch in anticipation. “Good boy,” Ango murmurs, then finally thrusts forward. It’s heavenly to have something besides his own fingers inside of him, wonderful to—

All his thoughts break off as Ango shudders and hunches over with an unsteady breath. “You didn’t.”

Ango cracks one eye.

“You did not just come while halfway inside of me just to leave me like this.” Dazai can tell Ango is thinking about what to say next. “So cruel, Ango-kun… I’ll die…”

“Let me pull out, and I’ll—”

“Ango-kun…” Dazai pours a deliberate patheticness into that moan. “You’re the worst. I really will die horny. What will people say—ah!” Biting his lip so hard that it bleeds, Dazai looks up at the man squeezing his cock. Disappointingly, Ango’s now soft erection slips out.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re intolerable?”

“Chuuya-kun told me that all the time.” Dazai studies Ango’s face, but it remains the same as before, at least from what he can tell. It’s difficult to figure anything out with the delicious strokes traveling up and down his shaft.

“That’s it.”

Part of him despises the pathetic whimper he lets out as Ango’s strokes grow faster.

“I’ve held you on the edge for long enough. Fall, Dazai-kun.”

Dazai comes vocally, but it’s not as satisfying as it could be. At least now, relieved of his impending orgasm, he can think properly. Realizing Ango’s weight has left the bed, he tries to remember when the other man departed. Hearing a rustle in the bathroom, Dazai realizes Ango has departed to clean his hand and probably remove the condom. Dazai takes the opportunity to pull his boxers on at least. Ango does the same as soon as he comes back. Everything else stays on the floor. The bed shuffles a bit as Ango sits on the end of the bed. Dazai stares at the ceiling. “Who sent you?” he finally asks.

“Nakahara Chuuya.”

So it was him, Dazai thinks, pulling in a breath.

“I owed him a favor, and he asked me to find you.”

“Why?”

“To know you were alive.”

Dazai turns over to look at Ango’s back.

“He’s dating some blond guy now. Tall, glasses… I guess they met when the other guy was in university. They seem happy together. Nakahara-kun even talked about buying a ring.”

Suddenly uninterested, he rolls back over and stares at the ceiling.

“You’re supposed to mourn your missed opportunity.”

“I didn’t miss anything, Ango-kun.” Dazai shuts his eyes and smiles. “And even if I did, Chuuya-kun could do better than me.” With a sour snicker, Dazai continues, “There was probably a point he believed he couldn’t. Such a loyal dog…”

“You can say it hurts,” Ango says.

“Why would it hurt?”

He can’t tell what Ango is thinking when he turns to throw a glance over his shoulder. “I lost Odasaku-san and you in the same night, Dazai-kun. For years, I told myself it didn’t hurt. But then, Nakahara-kun came to cash in his favor, and for the first time in my life, I found myself unable to breathe.”

Dazai rolls onto his side again.

“It’s time to share that pain, Dazai-kun.”

“You could have picked someone better than me.”

To his surprise, Ango flops down on the pillow beside him. His bangs fall messily over his forehead. Behind his glasses, his eyes look misty. “I think I chose just the right person.”

He watches Ango’s eyes close. Part of him panics at this show of trust. The other part of him longs to shuffle forward. He stays right where he is and eventually nods off while still in the same bed.

In the morning, Ango’s distant, professional demeanor has returned. “Same time in two weeks?”

“I’ll be there,” he answers.

Out here, he’s still Tsushima Shuuji, but he realizes something as they part ways, something that makes him snicker.

I can try to run from my name. I can try to run from the past. But no matter how far and fast I go, whether my flight is a sprint or a marathon, a part of me will always be Dazai Osamu.

Chapter Text

“Tsushima-san!”

He feels less equipped to answer to that name than before Ango showed up. Still, he turns with his usual smile to find a little cluster of kids behind him. Two boys and a girl, the traditional shounen anime trio, only it’s the girl approaching him with confidence while one of the boys stares at his toes and the other grimaces like he doesn’t want to be there.

“Tsushima-san.”

“What is it?” he asks the little girl.

“Masaki-kun says it’s scarier to die than to live.”

The shy boy kicks his toe again.

“But Bunji-kun says it’s scarier to live than die.”

The sulky boy folds his arms with a “humph.”

“What about you?” he asks.

“Satoko-chan thinks both can be scary.”

The girl nods at Bunji’s comment and continues. “Since a lot of us look up to you, I figured it was a good idea to ask.”

“But we’re bothering Tsushima-san,” the shy boy, Masaki, murmurs.

“Quit being such a scaredy cat,” Bunji counters.

He continues to smile as the children squabble. Not the way Tsushima Shuuji would. The way Dazai Osamu would. It’s an old fall back, one that works well with people who don’t expect it.

Out of nowhere, he thinks of Odasaku.

“Tsushima-san?”

It takes him a minute to realize Satoko is talking to him. Blinking, he answers, “You want my honest opinion?”

The children lean forward, eager looks on their faces.

With a calm smile, he murmurs, “I think you’re all too young to be contemplating how scary life and death can be.” It feels like something Odasaku would say. “You’re still young,” he continues, hating how much like his dead mentor he sounds. “Jump in puddles. Spin under the sun. Catch cicadas and beetles. You’ll have plenty of time for adult problems when you grow up. There’s no sense in taking them on now.” The words taste like whiskey, probably because they’re so akin to something Odaskau would say. Out of nowhere, he’s back in the bar on that fateful night. “But… to satisfy your curiosity…” He smiles the way Dazai Osamu would and rubs one of his bandaged wrists. “I’ve been more afraid to live for a long time.”

He leaves the puzzled children and their debate on what to do now behind, shifting his focus to his own adult problem: Sakaguchi Ango.

After their last meeting, he half expects Chuuya to show up there. Alone or with his blond… whatever they are. His existence remains undisturbed by the redhead.

There’s also the matter of his parents. Ango hasn’t mentioned them. To Tsushima Shuuji, Ango is a stranger, but Dazai Osamu knows, despite Ango’s penchant for expensive antiques, no amount of money or clout could persuade him to give up Dazai’s location, especially if it’s from them.

Although he still hopes to stay hidden, his and Ango’s plans have started to morph a bit beyond their original form, all thanks to a certain text he received several hours ago. I propose we meet up somewhere else.

The part of him that’s Tsushima Shuuji panicked. The part of him that’s Dazai Osamu answered, What did you have in mind? while secretly wondering if Ango wants to do something semi-public. Equal parts risky and kinky, but he has willingly agreed to stranger things.

It took Ango ages to answer. There’s a restaurant in a town north of there. I’ll send you an address if you’re willing.

He searched for a witty remark. Finding none, he put his phone away and continued walking. He didn’t need to contemplate a response. He did want to make Ango wait a bit, though, so it seemed like something he thought about.

As he arrives, he thinks it worked, considering Ango is already at the restaurant when he arrives, hands folded, gaze distant, leg bouncing a little under the table. So I was right. This isn’t just sex. Sidling up to the table, he slides into his chair and instantly starts staring at the menu. “You’re nervous, Ango-kun. How unlike you. You’re not going to try to arrest me, are you?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Yet,” the part of him that’s Dazai Osamu answers. He adds a smirk that is very much characteristic of who Ango is there to see. Lowering his menu, he leans against his hand. “Are you stressed about work by chance? I’ll bet tracking down ability users gets exhausting, and that’s to say nothing of the paperwork.”

“No.”

He reaches for the menu again.

“Yes,” Ango amends.

He turns the menu over. “What about it is stressing you out? Are you worried someone is going to ask you to drag me back to Yokohama?”

“I wouldn’t do that unless you agreed to come, and even then, I have my reservations.”

He shrugs and lifts his menu up to hide behind it. “If the slug marries some four-eyes, what do I care? He’s happy.”

It must be the grumble he delivers those words with. When he feels a pull on his menu, he doesn’t bother resisting. “Are you mad because he’s happy, or that he’s happy with someone else?”

“I’m mad you’re talking about him instead of making passes to work me up for later.”

Ango blinks, then lowers his eyes. “Then I apologize.”

He hums and continues to scrutinize the menu.

“Let me be direct: dinner isn’t all I want in my mouth tonight.”

With a snicker, he states, “You’re just as bad at flirting as you are at having sex. You’re not supposed to be that direct.”

“What would you suggest, then?”

“For you, something cliche. Try ‘The moon looks beautiful tonight.’”

Across the table, Ango chokes and instantly starts fiddling with his glasses. “That’s a bit beyond our agreement.”

“So is this.” He waves at the menu. “But you don’t hear me complaining. Hey, they even have crab…”

Sure, Dazai said the pass fell short, but all through dinner, he craves Ango’s lips around his dick. Soon enough, he reminds himself.

The hotel they check into is more luxuriant than the one they normally meet up in. Despite being in a different place, Dazai still insists they go up separately. Once the signal comes, he ascends the elevator. It’s more difficult to locate the room in a hotel he’s not familiar with. Ango must calculate this, too, as he’s standing in the hallway on the correct floor.

“Ah… I was worried I’d knock on the wrong door and wind up in a threesome.” He says it mostly to see Ango’s reaction. “If that happened, would you want an invitation?”

Ango slips the key into the door and answers, “I’d prefer it if, during our arrangement, you not involve anyone else.” The hotel room swings open. “I’ll do the same.”

He steps inside, out of Tsushima Shuuji’s shoes. Dazai’s socked feet land on the carpet. When Ango’s chin rests on his shoulder and a hand plays along his hip, he starts to think maybe Ango has learned something.

“Besides, I don’t like the idea of sharing.”

Scoffing, Dazai slips away, pressing his hands into his pockets. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Ango-kun, but right about now, you’re supposed to be sucking me off, not trying your hand at seductive quips.”

“Considering you’re asking for it,” Ango states, unthreading his tie, “that tells me it’s working.”

He paces across the room and sits on the edge of the bed. Ango follows, carefully removing his suit jacket, then his glasses. “Just so you know, I’ve never done this before.”

“I’m sure your performance alone will tell me that.”

Even if Ango lacks experience, he doesn’t shy away from opening Dazai’s slacks or working his boxers out of the way. His grip seems a little more confident, a gorgeous contrast to the reluctant little kitten licks along his shaft. Dazai bites his lip and tries not to gasp. He fails when Ango kisses the spot just above his cockhead.

Part of him wonders what it’s like to kiss Ango.

He immediately tells that part of him to shut up.

“Seems I’m doing a good enough job so far, Dazai-kun.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had head,” he answers, adding a nonchalant wave. “Plus, you look different without your glasses.” His fingers play along Ango’s cheek before settling below his chin and raising it so their eyes meet. “Mmm… no doubt about it… without glasses, you look like a total whore.”

The indignant way Ango’s face scrunches up is its own reward.

“Come on, Ango-kun… show me how much you want to suck me off. That’s what you insinuated earlier. I’m waiting.” The last words, delivered in his characteristic sing-song, backfire. They provoke Ango beyond a level Dazai was aiming for, and without warning, Ango swallows his dick entirely. The result, predictably, is a rough choke as he jerks back. Dazai barely keeps from kicking him in the face. “Ango-kun, mind your teeth, will you? They’re uncomfortable…”

Ango is still hunched over, coughing and trying to catch his breath. As he rises, he wipes one eye.

It only makes him want Ango to cry more. Not from choking. From feeling good.

That notion runs counter to all of his previous aims, but it sticks in his head as Ango resumes, tongue cleverly circling the head of Dazai’s cock, then lips slowly closing around it before he starts to drop at a much more reasonable pace. He doesn’t make it all the way, but he does start to bob in a way that makes Dazai realize he might actually feel satisfied after tonight. Between gasps, he reaches up to smooth Ango’s hair behind his ear. Ango peers up at him with an unreadable gaze. “You’re actually kind of pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

The snide remark earns him a nip to his shaft that really would end with him kicking Ango in the head if Ango didn’t anticipate it and hold his leg down with ease. “Stop mouthing off,” Ango breathes, then resumes like biting another man’s erection is a totally normal part of the process.

In the end, it’s not terrible, but it’s also not great, either. Ango is sloppy. He can’t find a good pace. He alternates between going too fast and using too much teeth, and as Dazai starts to warn him that he’s close to coming, Ango pulls back and winds up with the result of all his hard work splattering in his face. Strangely, he doesn’t complain. He just wipes the mess away with a steady hand, then rises and excuses himself to clean up. Dazai rearranges his clothes while Ango is gone. The water is running so long. Ah, he’s probably brushing his teeth. He’s not used to the taste.

When Ango returns, it’s with a towel draped around his shoulders. His bangs and parts of his collar are damp. One of his buttons is open. As he continues to dry off, Dazai lowers his eyes to Ango’s slacks. “Ango-kun.”

“I already know what you’re going to say,” he retorts, slicking his bangs back. “So let’s skip to the part where you get quiet and I pretend you enjoyed it.”

“I mean…” He shrugs. “There’s room for improvement.”

With a heavy sigh, Ango drops down beside him. “If it’s so bad, why are you still letting me do this?”

Humming, Dazai swings his feet and tips back, folding his hands on his stomach, staring at the ceiling. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the part where it gets good.”

“Bold of you to assume—”

He notices how Ango’s whole body rocks as he stretches a hand out to grip the tent in his pants. He gasps like he doesn’t know what to do. Smiling, Dazai murmurs, “How about I show you how to give a good blow job? Then you can tell me what you’ve learned, hmm?”

“Dazai-kun—”

But Dazai is already sinking to the floor, massaging Ango’s thighs, peering up at him with an eager smile. “Let me have it, Ango-kun. I’ve seen a lot of dicks. Yours is pretty nice.”

Ango’s eyes shy away. “What… are you doing?”

“This?” Dazai smooths Ango’s thighs again. “It’s called foreplay. I know you’ve heard of it, given all the seductive shit you whispered in my ear last time.”

“I haven’t—”

“‘I have an aptitude for picking things up quickly,’ was it?”

Ango blanches, and Dazai shifts his hands to Ango’s hips.

“Modesty doesn’t look particularly flattering on you. Now, are you going to let me do this or not?”

“Fine! Just… don’t get mad if I come too soon.”

Smiling, Dazai starts to work on Ango’s zipper. “You always were a little skittish when you were touched. Is it because you’re so sensitive?” He can tell by the way Ango writhes that that’s probably accurate. “If you need to work on anything, it’s your endurance. I half think I could just say something and you’d come. Actually, that’d be pretty entertaining.” He nuzzles the front of Ango’s boxers and listens to the other man’s breath hitch. The faint odor of arousal creeps through the fabric and meets his nose. “Mmm… I can’t wait to have you in my mouth…”

“So pull it out and—”

“Where’s the fun in rushing, Ango-kun? It’s fun to see you squirm. Besides…” Dazai tugs on Ango’s waistband and watches the head of his cock appear. “The anticipation makes it better.”

The instant he licks Ango’s cock, he receives an unrestrained moan as reward. Encouraged, Dazai spreads his lips over the head, slowly inching them down the shaft. Ango’s hand winds up buried in his hair, which seems unsure of whether to pull him off or push him down farther. I like the feeling of being choked, but the whole point of this is for him to slow down, so… He bobs his head, trying not to chuckle as Ango writhes.

“Dazai-kun… more…”

He pulls off with a sigh and releases the laugh he’s been holding in. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you beg.”

“Then why the hell did you stop?”

“Mostly to savor the moment.” Dazai smirks. “In comparison, this is what you were doing earlier—”

The whines Ango lets out shift from pleasure to annoyance as Dazai begins to use his teeth. He squirms so much at one point that Dazai does wind up gagging.

Lurching back, he rasps, “What the hell?”

“That’s awful!”

He wipes his mouth, then idly rests on Ango’s knees and plays with his half-hard cock. “Exactly.”

With a deep frown, Ango watches him.

“Let me finish you off?”

Ango, ever the skeptic, says, “I don’t trust you not to do that again.”

Applying a little pressure beneath the head of Ango’s cock with his thumb, he answers, “It sure is something, hearing you talk about trust.” After a moment of gauging Ango’s breath, he murmurs, “Let me finish. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Fine.”

“Really?” Dazai instantly perks up. “Ango-kun, you’d really let me?”

“I said I would.” He glances away again. “If I… come in your mouth—”

“I’ll swallow it,” Dazai announces. “Consider it my apology.”

Chuuya used to joke that a dick was the only thing that could shut Dazai up. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but tonight, he hums around Ango’s cock until the man comes so hard, Dazai is positive Ango has left this plane of existence. As promised, Dazai swallows, grimacing a bit through the taste but keeping his satisfied smirk on as Ango comes back down.

“How was that?”

Ango flops down, still out of breath. “Incredible.”

“Good. Need anything else?”

“After that?” Ango smooths his bangs. “Even if I wanted something more, I couldn’t ask for it.”

Satisfied with that answer, Dazai does Ango the kindness of rearranging his clothes, mostly so he can give Ango’s cock one last stroke before tucking it away. Ango gasps at the touch, then relaxes and settles in. Shrugging, Dazai joins him, folding his hands on his stomach as he studies the ceiling.

Out of nowhere, Ango says, “I wonder what Odasaku-san would think of all this.”

Tonight, he decides to humor Ango. “What do you mean?” He turns his head to see Ango setting his fingers on his head.

“Us sleeping together…”

“You didn’t want that at all when he was alive.” He catches Ango turning him in his periphery.

“I didn’t want you until that night I found you at the bar.”

The conversation feels serious. Still, he turns.

“Something about the sight of you… just lit me up. You were just sitting there, like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

Without the glasses, Ango’s gaze feels more intense.

“You looked at home, and part of me hated that you did. Because that’s the way you looked back at the bar with Odasaku-san and me.”

Dazai remembers the picture. He tried to burn it the night he got there. In a moment of weakness, he hid it deep in his closet instead.

“Part of me was proud that you could find that anywhere else in the world after everything. But more than anything, I was… angry. That you found that kind of peace by running.” Ango pauses. “I’m still looking for it, but I’m ashamed to admit… I feel a bit of that peace now just talking about it.”

It’s different, hearing Ango speak sincerely. “You’re doing this because you miss him.”

“I’m doing this because I miss a lot of things.”

“That you’re trying to find by fucking me?”

“What I lost can’t be found, Dazai-kun.” He starts to drift off because he’s tired, but the slight skim of Ango’s fingers along his temple anchors him to that moment. “I’m seeking something else by being next to you.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know.” Ango exhales. “This isn’t an attempt to extend our deal, but… I’m beginning to think three months isn’t long enough to find it.”

In the morning, when he’s no longer Dazai, he leaves Ango tucked in the bed while he makes them tea. He traces the indent he left behind in the sheets when he got up. He isn’t sure what kind of man would pursue an unknown the way Ango is, but he’s beginning to think maybe he’s not the only one who’s no longer human.

Chapter Text

The plan fails.

Or rather, the plan no longer appeals to him. Not the part of him that’s Tsushima Shuuji, nor the deep down part of him that’s still Dazai Osamu.

His attitude shifts after the blow job incidents, in the conversation that follows. He doesn’t realize it until afterwards, but as he rides the train back, he thinks, Ango-kun has his reasons for doing this. Maybe he’s punishing himself for what happened to Odasaku-san. Or maybe he wants to see me miserable. This thing he’s looking for… can it even be found?

People notice his low mood, often pensive or sulky, and ask about it. One or two even suspect it’s the man in the brown suit who turns up there every few weeks. One threatens to fight him out back if he’s causing trouble. “Ango-kun is too shrewd to get into that kind of situation,” the not-Dazai part of him insists.

But Ango is apparently not too shrewd to keep meeting up with Dazai.

The next time they meet up, they just talk. Even once they’re in the hotel room, Ango makes no move to initiate anything outside of a conversation. They talk around Odasaku until they start nodding off. Twice, Ango prevents him from falling asleep. Once, Dazai does the same. When he wakes up in the morning, he feels Ango touching his fingers and thinks he’s awake, but he opens his eyes to find the man still dozing beside him, fully clothed.

Dazai doesn’t draw away. He just shuts his eyes again while silently snatching at the tattered threads of his plot. As priceless as it would be to see Ango totally shattered, the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he can’t do it.

Dazai feels Ango squeezes his fingers. Without opening his eyes, he squeezes back, lightly so as not to spook him.

What the hell even is this anymore?

He seeks the answer at the bottom of a whiskey glass one night at the bar. When he finds none, he refrains from trying again, telling himself that he doesn’t want to be hung over for their next rendezvous at yet another restaurant at another town nearby, this one seaside, and another hotel that’s probably more lavish than the one this all started in.

Despite his initial mistrust, talking with Ango never feels frightening or heavy in the moment. It’s always after. To displace that uncomfortable seriousness, he turns his thoughts to what it would be like to kiss Ango. He’s probably as bad at that as he is at everything else. I wonder what sort of childhood he led to be so skittish and inexperienced.

He circles back to the question of definition. Are we friends? With benefits? We’re clearly not lovers. Odasaku knew Ango-kun before he knew me, and Ango-kun even said he never felt that way about me until we met again. In opposition to many of Ango’s statements, Dazai believes that one is an unshakable truth.

He has to face facts, as tedious as that is: Dazai agreed to this to make Ango miserable as “thanks” for notifying him of Odasaku’s death. But Dazai doesn’t need to make Ango miserable because he already is.

With that objective dead in the water, he finds himself returning once more to the “what” that seems as possible to find as whatever Ango is looking for. He imagines them nestled side-by-side like little novelty salt-and-pepper shakers and laughs to himself. What does such a metaphor say about me, I wonder…

“Tsushima! You’re break’s over!”

He doesn’t feel much like working, but his colleagues likely already know that. What they don't know is that he’d rather reread Ango’s texts for a fifth time. He’s convinced there’s something in them to decode, and he’s determined to find it. Whether that makes him more or less human… well, he could care less, but he could also care more.

The messages in this gap of time feel more regular than the last. Much like their last meeting, it’s just random questions about the day, things Dazai never told Ango when Odasaku started bringing the spectacled man along.

I never asked about your thoughts on oolong.

He thinks it’s an odd question, but he still answers.

So you’re mostly a manga reader. What are you reading now?

Another question he’s willing to respond to.

It occurs to him at some point that the questions may have some other intent. Maybe they’re to lure him into a space safe enough where he’ll start answering questions about Odasaku. He doesn’t know what he’ll say if he does, and that scares him more than anything.

When he can think of them, Dazai answers with questions of his own. He’s surprised to learn Ango reads supernatural mystery series on occasion. He can’t stand isekai, and there are so many of them now, Dazai isn’t surprised. That gets him wondering if there are any manga about an antique shop…

But that’s too much for something that’s transactional.

Texting Ango makes the time between their meetings move a little faster. When they meet up in yet another small town at another classy restaurant, a second motive springs to mind. It’s a long shot, but maybe Ango’s interest in him extends beyond fumbling attempts at fucking and serious conversations in the sheets. He’s tempted to test that theory by extending his leg and poke at Ango’s ankle. He resists, though, keeping his legs folded instead as they fall into an easy rhythm of chatter that feels natural.

It won’t be much longer before he has bought his peace, before he can go back to being Tsushima Shuuji full-time. As they finish dinner and begin heading towards the hotel, he doesn’t stop to question why an echo of dread follows behind the initial relief.

“Come up with me for once, Dazai-kun,” Ango insists when they arrive.

“Are you finally going to blow my mind with a kiss? Although… if sex is any indicator, that’s also something you need practice with.”

“You might be surprised.”

Intrigued, Dazai chuckles and follows along. He definitely doesn’t put his hand in Ango’s back pocket while he’s in the middle of checking in, just like the receptionist definitely doesn’t hatch a brow at the noise he makes.

“Menace,” Ango grumbles as they approach the elevator and he taps the button. “You can’t just grope people without warning, Dazai-kun.”

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood, Ango-kun.” He rests his chin on Ango’s shoulder. “Unless we aren’t here for the usual reasons tonight.” He studies the way Ango’s eyes shift, then staggers as the elevator opens and Ango walks forward. He didn’t even realize how rapt he was.

“As good of a conversationalist as you are, I’m waiting until we get to the room to decide.”

With a neutral sigh, Dazai steps inside, and the elevator doors close.

“You were shorter than me when we parted ways. I can’t believe you had the audacity to get taller than me.”

Dazai shrugs and smiles, watching Ango’s graceful fingers brush against the button for the eighth floor. “You could always wear heels.”

“I prefer my footwear to be comfortable, Dazai-kun.”

The elevator starts sliding upwards. Dazai slips his hands in his pockets, confident that the night will host enjoyment of one kind or another. He turns to make some similar remark to Ango and is, instead, startled, by the pressure of a light grasp on his wrist and a pair of lips against his own. The peck isn’t reluctant or rushed at all. The look that follows feels uncertain, but not from a lack of confidence. Ango leans forward again a little, pausing as if to give Dazai space to reject this, but all he can do is part his lips to breathe.

Ango, clearly determined, sets his other hand under Dazai’s chin and leans in again, delivering something deeper, something delightful. His whole spine tingles as Ango backs him against one of the elevator walls. His one functional brain cell says, It’s kind of cute how his glasses are skewed right now, but he’s more focused on the way Ango’s tongue moves against his own.

He actually whimpers when they come apart. Ango kisses him one more time before receding. It lands on his lips, a silent reassurance that Dazai can barely comprehend given how tangled up his thoughts have become.

The elevator pings as it slows. “I hope that was to your satisfaction, Dazai-kun.”

The kiss passes through his mind in a rushed instant. The doors open, and as Ango steps out, Dazai follows.

They don’t speak again until they’re in the room. “It wasn’t, was it?” Ango asks while Dazai removes his shoes.

If he says no, even as a joke, he knows what that will cost him.

“Perhaps it was foolish of me to even try.”

Ango-kun, it wasn’t, Dazai’s mind says, but all he can do is shake his head.

Smiling, Ango murmurs, “It’s rare for you to be polite. I seem to have caught you off guard, so—”

Dazai will let Ango self-depreciate on many matters, but he doesn’t want to hear another word about how “bad” that kiss was. On the contrary: he just wants to do it again. This time, he initiates, a simple press of lips like the one Ango used to start. “More,” he breathes. When Ango doesn’t move, he clarifies, “I want you to kiss me more.”

When Ango obliges, Dazai feels like he has found life on Ango’s lips. He wishes he could die in that moment when things still feel incredible and close and oddly right. They’re bound to go wrong any minute. He’s still waiting for them to as Ango maneuvers them both to the bed, spreads Dazai out, and hunches over him, breathless.

“You’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” Dazai observes.

In answer, Ango just kisses him again. His movements, hungry without being desperate, make Dazai’s spine tingle and Dazai’s cock wish they were wearing a hell of a lot less clothing. As they continue making out, that wish comes true piece by piece: Ango’s tie, Dazai’s coat… it almost feels like the point of this isn’t just to sleep together.

But Dazai won’t dare hope for that.

Ango opens Dazai’s buttons with shaking hands. He doesn’t fumble until Dazai reaches up and starts to reciprocate. “What are you doing?”

“Moving things along,” Dazai answers, surprised he even has the capacity to speak after what Ango’s mouth just did to his. “You’re really pretty, you know that?” He must be dazed if he’s saying things like that. To prove his point, he smooths the mole on the front of Ango’s shoulder, then the one on his face. “Ango-kun, such a bully… you’ve been holding out on me.”

Ango wrestles with the button he’s working on. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dazai chuckles and opens another one of Ango’s. “You never told me how good you were at kissing.”

“I wasn’t aware I was any good.”

For that comment, Dazai arches up and catches Ango’s lips again. He tries to compare kissing Ango to something else he enjoys and finds he’s drawing a blank, mostly because Ango’s tongue slides back between his parted lips. It’s startlingly sexy, how Ango can perfectly split his attention between his mouth and his fingers. At the same time, Dazai understands what sort of effect this is having on him. To confirm, he bends his leg.

Ango breaks away with a loud, shaky moan, then lifts a hand to cover his mouth.

“Ango-kun.” He smooths the mole on Ango’s face again. “Don’t hold your voice back.”

“I am trying to be considerate of other hotel guests in nearby rooms.”

“Be a little less considerate?”

Ango clicks his tongue.

There’s only one word he can use to describe Ango’s reactions. “Beautiful,” he breathes, smiling up at Ango. “Just now, you sounded beautiful.”

Maybe that word encourages Ango a little too much, given how long they spend kissing before Dazai is finally naked except for the bandages and Ango is naked from the waist down, still wearing his open shirt. Just like last time, he has lube and a condom.

“You’ll need to get me ready tonight.”

Ango pauses and peers at him.

“You know how to do that, right?”

“I’ve fingered you before, Dazai-kun,” Ango states, his voice level. “Legs up. I want a good view.”

“Ango-kun, such a pervert,” Dazai sing-songs. “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you want to film us for posterity.” Despite his teasing remarks, Dazai complies, and as the first finger slips inside of him, he lets out a broken off moan.

“It’s not very fair, you showing restraint when you just asked me not to.”

Stubborn, Dazai covers his mouth with the back of one hand, determined to keep quiet.

At least, until Ango’s other hand starts stroking his erection. He’s not proud of the pathetic whines he lets out, but he’s feeling so incredible that he decides to be mortified later.

A second finger joins the first. Dazai grips the sheets as his body stretches and arches up a bit. Once he’s taking both comfortably, he relaxes a bit again. Then, he remembers this is good. Too good. It shouldn’t be good with the person who was there with Odasaku in his dying moments, the person who afterwards called Dazai and uttered three words that shattered his whole world. In fact, the way he’s feeling actually scares him.

So, he blurts the first thing he thinks of. “Odasaku…”

Ango instantly freezes.

This was the plan from the beginning: to deliver a devastating reminder of who they lost as a show of what he and Ango can’t be. He intended to deploy his tactic more intentionally, but the instant he looks up and sees the shattered look on Ango’s face, he knows he has made a mistake. He shudders as Ango’s fingers leave him empty.

In a voice so cold, Dazai shivers, Ango murmurs, “Why are you calling his name?”

“Ango-kun—”

All five stages of grief flash across Ango’s face. “You said you didn’t feel that way about him.”

Oh, shit. He thinks I—

“So why… right now… when we’re doing this and it’s finally good… are you calling Odasaku-san’s name?”

Dazai’s mind crowds with too many words. He can’t say them all, so he ends up saying nothing.

But he does reach up to touch Ango’s face again. When Ango jerks back, he says, “I wasn’t calling you that.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he retorts.

Sighing, Dazai murmurs, “Just let me.”

This time, Ango doesn’t flinch. His eyes, shining more brightly than usual, wander away.

“Ango-kun…”

What starts as a glare instantly twists into something else, then softens. Ango wipes his face with the back of his hand and murmurs, “What’s wrong with this picture?”

Dazai snickers. “If you’re talking about the wall art, it is a little crooked.”

“Not what I meant.”

Something tickles the side of his face. The soft press of Ango’s hand follows. “You claim to be no longer human, yet here you are shedding tears that say otherwise.”

Dazai lifts his other hand to his face. He didn’t even realize it. “Maybe because I know what I just did, however I meant it, ruined this.”

Ango lets out a slow breath.

“I’m not meant to be happy, Ango-kun.”

What happens next shocks him. Ango, still with his stoic expression, drops into his arms and holds him while his eyes continue to water. Not knowing what else to do, Dazai lifts his own arms and winds them around Ango’s neck.

There, he finds a sort of peace he didn’t realize he was looking for, one that makes him ache for what he has as much as for what he’s lost.

It’s clear to him that whatever was going to happen isn’t anymore. Still, he holds onto Ango, blinking the occasional tears out of his eyes.

When they part ways the next day, more solemn than usual, Ango turns to him and says, “I want an explanation.”

He instantly starts to apologize, but Ango’s lips stop him.

“I said an explanation, Dazai-kun. After, I’ll decide whether or not I need an apology.”

Not knowing what else to do, Dazai nods.

“I think until then, perhaps it’s best we don’t see each other.”

“But—”

“Your secret is safe with me, Dazai-kun,” Ango reassures him. “You’ll need some time to piece it all together. Until then, I don’t want to interfere.”

Realizing he has no real objection, Dazai hums and lowers his head.

“Reach out when you’re ready. Until then…”

No…

Ango draws a breath that looks difficult.

Don’t say it…

“Good-bye, Dazai-kun.”

He realizes in that moment that until Ango showed up, he felt alone even when he was surrounded by people. To lose that is devastating in a different way than losing Odasaku was. Unable to face that, Dazai decides it’s time to go back.

Not just to that shabby little town where he lives and works. To being Tsushima Shuuji full-time and all that that existence entails.

Who knows, he tells himself as he boards the train. Maybe this time, I’ll actually find something worth living for.

Chapter Text

“Tsushima-san…”

He glances up from the cup of coffee he still hasn’t touched.

The waitress, with a frown, says, “Is the coffee not to your liking?”

“I appreciate your concern, but it’s really not that. I just… keep getting distracted.”

With a hum, she says, “Did that guy in the brown suit break up with you?”

“It’s not… exactly like that.”

“Then you broke up with him?”

“I’m not sure ‘breaking up’ even applies to what we were doing,” he admits. Which he still can’t figure out, even after winding his mind around and around what he thinks the issue is.

It’s a slow day at the restaurant. It’s pretty typical for servers to sit down with customers they know. To his surprise, she sits down with him.

“Your name isn’t Tsushima Shuuji, is it?”

He finally reaches for his coffee. Ango isn’t there. Right now, he’s Tsushima Shuuji, and nothing in him should say otherwise. Still, his answer is, “No, but I’d prefer you keep calling me that.” The coffee is, predictably, room temperature. He struggles through one gulp, then another. Setting it down with a raspy sigh, he stares at the table. “I wasn’t aware this was a confessional.”

“Please,” she says. “Neither of us believe in god. You’re not fooling anyone.”

He peers up at her and reads ner nametag. Yosano. He doesn’t recall ever seeing her before and decides to keep his hands folded around his cup, half worried she’ll take it from him. “So what keeps you an atheist?”

“The shit I’ve seen.”

He shrugs.

“You?”

After another gulp, he says, “Losing the only good thing I had in the world without getting the chance to say good-bye. Although… even before that, I wasn’t much for religion.”

With a loud sigh, she leans against her hand. “The world can be really shitty, can’t it?”

He swirls his coffee cup.

“That guy in the brown suit wasn’t bad.”

“He was terrible.” Dazai snickers. “Every night, he’d try so hard to make it good. The one time it was actually going alright, I was the one who screwed it up.” He sips his coffee, trying not to cringe at its temperature.

“You want to keep trying.” She says it like she’s certain.

Wondering if it’s an ability, he sets his coffee down. “I don’t even know if that’s possible.”

“You won’t know if you don’t ask.”

“I—” He stops himself. “Actually, you have a point.”

“Of course, I do.” She rises when the bell above the door rings and ries to greet whoever just came in. It’s not much of an end to the conversation, but Dazai finds himself hung up on technicalities. He can’t ask Ango until he can parse out why he said Odasaku’s name while getting fingered. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue, but that seems to be the one question Dazai can’t find an answer to.

Dazai never sees Yosano again after that. Even with her gone, that question of possibility. He starts to believe it has no solution until one day, he’s watching the sun set. It’s not something he planned to do. Taken by the scenery, he sways to a stop and sits down on a bench instead of continuing. At the same time the light disappears, he finds that odd part of his life illuminated.

I need to know what happened that night. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. He keeps his text simple: an invitation to talk, to finish what they started. Ango doesn’t answer until the next morning. He’s amenable to meetings and suggests the usual hotel room. He offers to buy room service, but Dazai counters by offering to bring food from a convenience store or takeout. They negotiate a little on the time and food, but they eventually come to an agreement.

Normally, I wouldn't rush this, but I have a work trip starting tomorrow, so I’d like to come tonight.

So soon, Dazai tells himself. To Ango, he writes, That’s fine. I’ll see you then.

He finds himself trudging through a day that refuses to end. Then, out of nowhere, it does, and he’s marching to the usual hotel. Out of habit, he forgets the food until he has already located Ango’s room, which he got through text earlier. The instant the door opens, he feels oddly relieved to see Ango there.

“You forgot the food.”

“Ah.” Dazai swallows. “I—”

“Come inside,” Ango states, turning away from the door. “I’ll order something.”

Dazai takes his time removing his shoes and coat. In the meantime, he listens to Ango’s muffled tones ordering kamameshi and something light for himself. Dazai hovers nearby as Ango speaks into the receiver. He hangs up, and Dazai winds up being taken over the same way he was by the setting sun, only this time, it’s a hug instead of a long stare. He knows he should ask, so he keeps his hold loose enough that Ango can escape if he can.

“What’s your answer, Dazai-kun?”

“For what?”

“Why you called me Odasaku that night.”

Realizing Ango has no plans to pull away, he shuts his eyes. “I wasn’t calling you that.”

“Then what?”

“I was trying to talk about him.”

Ango scoffs. “Your timing was awful.”

“I’m sorry.” He smells the back of Ango’s hair. “I know it was. There was a point in all of this when I wanted to do what I did on purpose.”

“Why?”

Dazai slips away and hangs his head. “Because you were there and I wasn’t.”

“Really?” He can tell by Ango’s voice that he’s disappointed even if his face doesn’t show it. “That’s low.”

“I know.”

“Spiteful.”

“I know,” he insists, folding his arms. “I’m really not proud of it.”

Ango hums. “You’re saying you didn’t blurt Odasaku-san’s name intentionally?”

“I really didn’t.” Dazai rubs his arm instead. “I guess… me saying that isn’t all that convincing.”

“You still haven’t explained why.”

That’s the sticking point for Ango, clearly. It’s the sticking point for Dazai, too. “Honestly? I still don’t know.” When Ango doesn’t snap something about wasting time, he adds, “I’ve thought about it a lot. To the point where people know there’s something wrong with me. If I wasn’t already messed up mentally, I would be. Hell, maybe I’m even more messed up now. I mean, who calls his dead best friend’s name during sex?” He tries to hide the fact that he’s anxious by smiling and snickering. He hopes Ango buys the facade. “I still don’t know, but there’s something you can tell me that will help me figure it out.”

“And what’s that?”

Ango sounds like he’s bracing himself for a punch. This will be a hard conversation regardless, so he just says it. “Tell me about the night Odasaku died.” For a moment, Dazai thinks Ango has imagined worse questions that could come his way. Once that request sinks in, Ango grimly lowers himself to the side of the bed. Dazai joins him, keeping his hands on his knees, staring at the hotel carpet.

“I’d love to say Odasaku-san was on a job, but… that night, he was settling some personal business. Earlier that day, someone set off a car bomb that killed some kids he was looking after. He was out for blood. By the time I realized it, I couldn’t do anything to stop him.”

Dazai glances up to see Ango staring at the carpet, too. He lowers his eyes again in solidarity.

“He caused quite a mess on his way out, too. Took some high profile diplomat with him. The guy turned out to be corrupt, but my office sweated bullets trying to cover it up.”

Apparently, Ango’s job isn’t just paperwork after all. “So he died… fighting someone?”

“He died with a gun in his hand and asked me to look after you.”

Hearing the sardonic tone of Ango’s scoff, Dazai looks up and watches him take his glasses off. He covers his face with his hands.

“But then… you disappeared, and I had to live with the ghost of my dead best friend’s unfulfilled final wish. I still do.”

“Ango-kun—”

“I’m pretty sure Odasaku-san wasn’t asking me to sleep with you. Our attempts at pleasure have been fruitless at best, pointless at worst.” He sinks a little lower. “I stopped looking for you three days after you vanished because I was afraid I would find you dead. If I’d looked a little harder… if I’d just looked a little harder—”

Dazai, realizing how difficult this is to talk about, reaches over and touches Ango’s knee. It’s not an effort to rile him up. It’s just a gesture of comfort. Still, Ango throws him the most shattered look he has ever seen anyone with.

“I miss him.”

Dazai lowers his eyes. “I know. I miss him, too.” He pauses. “Maybe that’s why I said it. Or at least part of the reason. It’s so… complicated. I mean, you know what people used to think.” He shrugs and starts to wave his feet. “Odasaku-san was really important to me.”

“I know.”

He folds his hands on his own knees and continues, “Maybe that night just… felt like the right time to finally talk about it.”

“Gods awful timing,” Ango repeats.

He lets out one of his characteristic snickers and says, “I mean, the deal’s not up yet. We could always try again.”

Ango looks at him like he has grown a second head.

“What?” he asks. “Can’t blame me for trying. It was feeling good before I ruined it. Plus, no one’s ever kissed me the way you did last time, and I liked it.”

“You’re hitting on me as I explain Odasaku-san’s dying moments to you and interrogate why it was him you were calling that night?”

Dazai pouts. “You make that sound like some kind of faux paus, but really, it’s—” Actually, he still doesn’t know what it is, so he decides not to call it anything. After a moment, Ango’s weight bumps against his shoulder, and he sways a little.

“I still feel like it was my fault he died. I know you resent me for it, and I know no amount of apologizing will take your grief away.”

He doesn’t have to look to know Ango is crying behind his hand.

“I probably deserved it. The pain of hearing his name that night.”

“I’m not going to lie: the Dazai Osamu you started this with… hell, even the one from a few weeks ago… they would have agreed with you.” He slips an arm around Ango and touches his shoulder. “The Dazai Osamu that exists now, though, doesn’t.”

Ango sinks against him and sighs. “Odasaku-san knew I thought he was good-looking. I didn’t feel the urge to pursue him, but hearing you call me that… I know it wasn’t like that, but I thought—”

“Ango-kun.” With a long breath, he murmurs, “You said you wanted to share the pain of losing Odasaku. But I’m not ready to feel it yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, but… I think part of me is going to miss this when it ends.”

“You’re still waiting for the part where it gets good.”

“It got good when you kissed me.”

Ango’s fingers brush against his jawline. Another hand lands on his leg. And just like that, Ango’s lips find his, and they’ve moved from talking to touching. Tonight, he starts reluctant, but the urge rushes into his motions before long. Without complaint, Dazai lets Ango wrestle him to the bed. He arches beneath the man’s touch, fights to open his shirt, to feel his skin… they break apart for one startling moment. “Can I…” Ango trails off.

“Ango-kun, so shy even though you’ve fingered me and come inside of me.” Still snickering, he loops his arms around Ango’s neck. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t?”

They make quick work of their remaining clothes tonight. As always, Dazai keeps the bandages on. He grips the pillows as Ango fingers him open, whining and gasping. Something about the way things are moving tonight makes him realize this might actually be… good. The rhythm is nice. He’s careful. Best of all, between slipping a second one inside, Ango leans forward and kisses him again. Their lips work together, needy, and Dazai keens as Ango slips another finger inside.

He becomes more sure of that as, after slipping on a condom, Ango sinks inside of him, shuddering, pausing once he’s all the way in.

“What kind of face is that, Ango-kun?” Dazai smooths Ango’s arms and reaches up to play with his hair. One of Ango’s eyes cracks and peers down at him. “Don’t tell me you came again as soon as you were inside.”

“It’s a challenge not to, considering how good this feels…”

“Then move,” Dazai insists.

Ango sinks into his arms again, and for a moment, they just stay like that, gauging each other’s breaths, feeling each other’s bodies… the instant Ango starts to move, Dazai moves with him. It’s almost like their shared grief, more exposed than before, has helped them find a rhythm that is similar enough. Before long, things click into place, and Dazai feels the pleasure inside his stomach churn.

“More…” he breathes. “More…”

He could cry when Ango’s hand wraps around his cock and starts to tug with a rhythm matching his cock. Dazai’s arms drop to the bed, and he tips his head back, welcoming his approaching orgasm and hoping to give Ango a good idea of how he looks when he’s feeling good.

A sharp knock at the door breaks his focus, as does Ango’s unwelcome squeeze on his cock. Beneath the pounding of his heart, he hears a muffled voice say, “Please excuse me for the delay, Sakaguchi-san. Your room service order is here.”

Feeling Ango leave him empty is somehow worse than Ango’s grip on his cock. “Stay here,” he states, leaving the bed. Seething and bitter, Dazai balls up in the covers and wills his erection away, watching Ango pull on his boxers. He bends over as if to add insult to injury. His freckled skin disappears behind a hotel yukata. At the door, Dazai hears him utter his gratitude, a quiet request that he take the food inside, and as the door shuts, he realizes tonight won’t be any good, either.

Ango strides back into view, carrying the tray. Dazai throws him a glare that could probably kill someone, but not Ango, who sets it on the desk and spends way too long studying it. “We should eat the food while it’s still warm, but—”

“It’s fine,” Dazai lies.

Angol turns to him with folded arms. “The fact that you’re sulking in the sheets like that tells me otherwise.”

Pouting, he grumbles, “This must be your idea of revenge.”

“Not at all, Dazai-kun.” The smell of rice hits the air, and Dazai’s stomach growls. “It’s more… some needs supercede others at the moment.”

How Ango can shift so seamlessly between appetites is a mystery Dazai has no desire to solve, especially given Ango brings him his food in bed and undresses before joining Dazai between the sheets with his own.

“Are you really going to miss this when it’s over?”

He glances up.

“It hasn’t been good a single time.”

“It was good tonight until the damn room service—” He pauses as Ango dangles a forkful of cake in front of his face. “You just ordered dessert?”

“There’s no rule saying I have to eat dinner first.”

Rolling his eyes, Dazai accepts the bite. For hotel cake, it’s actually pretty good. He doesn’t even bother stopping Ango from stealing a nibble of his rice. He knows it’s not Ango’s favorite, but he chews like he enjoys it anyway. Frowning into his bowl, Dazai murmurs, “The thing I resent you most for is that you got to say good-bye to Odasaku.”

Ango hums.

“Odasaku was the kind of person who wouldn’t be upset or hurt by that. But some part of the Dazai Osamu who lost him needed that.”

“What would you tell him if you could?”

Dazai chews his bite. “I never thought about it.”

Ango must know he’s lying, given how he pauses as he takes Dazai’s bowl as if to read the memories he left behind on it. Dazai doesn’t stop him, even when he smiles. “I understand, Dazai-kun.”

He peers up from his knees.

“I know maybe this doesn’t make up for your missed opportunity, but Odasaku-san already knew you were grateful for his presence in your life.”

“Even it caused him problems.”

Ango nods.

“Even if people talked about us like we were doing something wrong?”

“Even then,” Ango assures him.

The light goes out, and Ango joins him in the bed. They’re still not wearing anything. They could try again, but Dazai is so full, the thought of putting any effort into sex exhausts him. “What were you thinking that night when you called me?” he finally asks.

He doesn’t expect Ango to answer. “To be honest, I was too shocked to think anything. Odasaku-san was pretty notorious for dodging death. People say his luck ran out, but I know the truth. He went up against someone with an ability just like his. They both couldn’t win, so they both lost.”

“Ah.”

Ango continues, “As time passed, I thought it was grossly unfair that someone with his heart died so young. Losing you, too, was devastating. Perhaps we didn’t know each other as well as you and Odasaku-san, but you left a hole behind for me when you disappeared.”

Dazai turns away from Ango, nursing a feeling similar to but deeper than the one he felt after accidentally calling Odasaku’s name the last time they were together.

“Slowly, I came to terms with the situation. I still have a few things of Odasaku-san’s that I used to read the memories on every now and then, on those particularly difficult days when I couldn’t accept that you both were gone.”

Swallowing, he murmurs, “What sort of memories are on them?”

“Happy ones, sad ones…” Ango trails off. “My favorite is the memory of that night we all went to the bar. He was so annoyed that you threw your name around to get alcohol despite being eighteen, but afterward, I remember him smiling and supporting me as I bailed you out. He thought that was just who you were: someone who knew what cards everyone had but held his own close. As much as that frustrated him, he also admired that about you.”

Dazai stirs at that word.

“What?”

“I didn’t think there was anything about me to admire, especially to someone like him.”

Beside him, Ango rustles beneath the covers.

“Are you sure you’re reading it right?”

“Dazai-kun,” Ango sighs.

But he persists in his doubt, turning to Ango and frantically echoing, “Are you sure—” before Ango quiets him with a kiss that warms his whole body. Ango’s hand finds his beneath the covers, working his fingers apart before setting between them. A slow breath skirts along his face.

Dazai knows without asking that somewhere along the way, this has become about more than sex and grieving, but that’s not a conversation for tonight. Dissatisfied by Ango’s hand alone, he rolls over and smiles in the dark when their noses touch. He knows Ango can’t see it, but part of him hopes Ango does.

Beneath the covers, Ango squeezes his hand, and Dazai thinks his smile has found a way to be perceived in spite of everything.

As they leave the hotel the next morning, Dazai stretches his arms over his head and observes, “Our next meeting will be the last one, won’t it?”

“Indeed.” Ango adjusts his glasses.

Dazai peers at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something. When he doesn’t, Dazai begins, “Should we—”

Ango’s phone joins the hotel employee that interrupted him last night. As annoyed as Dazai is, Ango covers the receiver and excuses himself until their next meeting.

Shrugging, he resolves to hold on to that question for now.

Chapter Text

It’s worth the trouble to see Ango’s face when he pulls up to the train station riding in the back of a limousine wearing a suit that’s fancier than his usual get-up. The tinted window on the passenger’s side unrolls, and Dazai waves from the other side of the car. “Yo, Ango-kun.”

First, Ango stares. Then, he fidgets with his glasses as if he caught himself. When he recovers, he demands, “Dazai-kun, what is this?”

He shrugs and answers, “A surprise?”

“It’s way too flashy!”

“You have expensive tastes that more than justify the expense.”

Ango groans and shakes his head. “You’ll expose yourself.”

“No one knows me here,” he reassures Ango. “Except maybe you. Now, get in. I’m taking you somewhere.” He expects to have to do more convincing but is surprised to find Ango slipping into the car and rolling up the window. He reminds the driver of their destination, ignores Ango’s objection, reaches for a bottle of champagne.”

Ango stops him. “Dazai-kun, this is far too much.”

He looks up. “I disagree, Ango-kun. It’s just the right amount.”

“A limousine?” he asks. “Champagne? Where the hell did you even get that suit?”

“I wanted to send you off with a nice memory.”

“Then just show up like a normal person!”

With a light laugh, Dazai passes him a smile, trying to look innocent. “When we last parted ways, you said this was the last time. So, why not celebrate a little?”

Ango somehow manages to look more solemn than usual. For a moment, Dazai thinks he’s been figured out. Holding the bottle in his hand, he pushes memories onto it, hoping as he hands it over that Ango will activate his ability to read them.

He doesn't. But at least he pops the cork, then yelps as champagne pours onto his shoes. Between laughs, Dazai gives an apology to the driver and promises to pay for whatever cleaning the vehicle needs.

“I’ve had dirtier things on the floor mats,” is the answer he gets.

Dazai throws a suggestive look at Ango, who is busy drying off his shoes with a pack of tissues he produced from one of his pockets. Dazai takes the bottle, making sure his fingers brush against Ango’s.

Ango pauses and peers at him. After a silent moment, somehow more solemn than the last, he goes back to cleaning his shoes. Dazai fills the glasses and passes one to Ango once he sits up.

“Should we toast to something?” Ango asks.

“To the end, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “To the end.”

Their glasses clink together. They both drink. When Ango lowers his cup, he comments, “This is good.”

Dazai leans back in his chair. “I’m glad.” His mind is still spinning around what the driver said earlier. He imagines crawling into Ango’s lap, nuzzling the mole below his shirt collar, and teasing him until he’s worked up enough to—

But Ango interrupts his fantasy with a question. “What is this really, Dazai-kun?”

“Like I said…” He swirls his glass a little. “I wanted to send you off in a way you’d remember.”

“Does that way by chance involve a final attempt to… get to the good part?”

“Ango-kun, so shrewd.” He smirks. “I booked a hotel, it’s true. A fancy one. But if we don’t get around to it, we can just talk long enough to make sure we’ve said all we’ve needed to. In the meantime, enjoy the ride.” Dazai sets his sights out the window at the scenery. By now, they’re on a freeway heading to a substantially larger city. Not as big as Tokyo or Yokohama, but large enough to offer some level of luxury. The tinted window reflects the interior. He sees Ango shift towards him, gasps at the light sensation of teeth on his earlobe, the weight of Ango’s hand on his thigh.

“Tonight,” Ango whispers, “I think I’ll let you be on top for a change.”

Startled, he turns to find Ango’s gaze, startlingly intense. After a moment, the smoldering fades, and Ango’s hand moves. The weight of his head rests on Dazai’s shoulder.

As if to explain his comment, he says, “I don’t want to walk away from this not knowing what that’s like.”

“We can… talk about it after dinner.”

“We can talk about it now,” Ango suggests.

Dazai sips his champagne. “Odasaku… ah… I wonder what he’d think of all this.”

“Knowing him, he would probably be happy for us.”

“For you, you mean.” He smiles. “Ango-kun finally getting laid…” He stops when Ango sits up. “It was a joke. You can stay there if you want.”

“No.” Ango shakes his head. “This next part, I need to say looking at you.”

“Oh?” Dazai lights up. “Is Ango-kun finally going to confess his love for me?”

“Be serious.”

Dazai settles back in his seat, still smiling.

“Since meeting you again, I’ve thought a lot about my loss. There have been times since it happened… that I wished I could forget. You pushed me to talk about things I swore I never would.”

Dazai realizes he isn’t smiling anymore. In fact, he’s wondering if he should apologize, although such a thing barely exists in his repertoire. “I—”

But Ango continues. “Rather than curse you for your interference, I’ve often left and felt oddly grateful.” A light smile creeps over his face. “I’ve left here thinking, ‘Thank god I had you.’”

“Even on the night I called Odasaku’s name?”

“Even then.”

The words sink in, and Dazai murmurs, “Do you really want this to be the last time?”

Ango blinks. “I don’t think it matters much what I want. We had a deal.”

Faced with that answer, Dazai turns to stare at the open space in front of him and cradles his glass.

“Do you?”

He could joke around the answer. He could pretend he doesn’t understand. But he has run from his feelings before. Mostly, his grief for Odasaku. His life, or what’s left of it, has changed to something lonely.

He doesn’t feel lonely with Ango, even if time and time again, their attempts at pleasure fail.

Swallowing, he finally admits, “No.” He’s afraid to look up at Ango, worrying the expression will be puzzled. Or worse… disgusted.

“I… see,” Ango finally murmurs.

Dazai jerks to the window. “But you want to go, so—”

“Dazai-kun, if I wanted to go, I wouldn’t have kissed you.”

Swallowing, he turns his head.

Ango must realize what he just said because he turns the color of a tomato and presses his hand over his face. “It’s… something Odasaku-san said to me once, when we were still in college, before we met you. We were talking about dating, and he called a kiss a memory that never fades. Ever since then, I’ve taken it more seriously than… well, everything else.”

Dazai snickers. “Cute.”

Ango starts to object, but Dazai reaches out to smooth the mole on his face.

“Odasaku… really as something. We should go to his grave next time.”

“It’s in Yokohama.”

“We can go at night when no one is out.”

Ango glares at him. “I don’t want to share.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Calmly, Dazai retreats to his side of the car. “We should toast again.”

“To what?”

“Beginnings?”

“Sure,” Ango echoes, clinking his half-empty glass against Dazai’s. “To beginnings.”

Dazai thought, considering the conversation on their way there, that he would spend all of dinner thinking about all the ways he wanted to bend Ango over and make his eyes roll back in his head. Instead, they joke like old times. Ango gradually loses his sourness about that. He even bumps his foot against Dazai’s ankle.

The food is magnificent. Maybe it just tastes better because it’s not the end, but an unexpected continuation. Maybe because it’s not just bad sex and worse grief but something else. Maybe because the champagne isn’t the only thing they drink, although they do start to show restraint once the food arrives.

“The sex won’t be good if you can’t remember it,” Ango states, waving his fork to emphasize his point.

Too tempted, Dazai grabs his wrist, brings it to his lips, and eats the bite. Rolling his eyes, Ango returns to his own plate, but not for the whole night. More than once, his fork wanders. Dazai pretends not to see it. He doesn’t care, anyway.

After dinner, they walk. Dazai points out this landmark or that attraction.

“Have you been here before, Dazai-kun?” Ango asks.

“Nope.” He turns to Ango. “But I did a little research to be sure I was taking you somewhere worth going.”

Ango stops walking for a moment, then shakes his head and keeps going.

At some point, Ango winds up holding onto his arm. There’s still a risk of them getting separated in a crowd even if it is smaller than the ones in Yokohama. He doesn’t let go. Dazai senses some kind of fear in it, like he’s afraid Dazai will evaporate if he lets go.

They check into the hotel together, Ango commenting on the luxuriant lobby on their way to the elevator.

It turns out to be nothing compared to the room. Dazai pushes the curtains back and takes in the breathtaking view. He spots Ango wandering around as if unsure of where to start admiring. To Dazai’s surprise, the man latches on to him from behind, blowing on Dazai’s ear with a teasing, “I’m still hungry.”

Unfamiliar with this side of Ango, he snickers and answers, “You just ate dinner… ah…” He bites his lip as Ango’s hand drifts over the front of his slacks. “Shameless. I thought you didn’t want to share.”

“I don’t,” he answers, giving Dazai’s still clothed cock a squeeze.

“Then why are you working me up in front of a window where someone could see us?”

Ango presses against his back, and he feels the sharp jab of an erection. His other hand crawls up Dazai’s chest and works his tie loose. “Maybe I like the possibility without wanting the real thing.”

“That’s oddly kinky of… shit…”

Ango laughs in his ear like he’s won. It’s the most beautiful sound Dazai has ever heard. “Take me to bed, Dazai-kun. Tonight, we finally get to the good part.”

Dazai obliges without difficulty or hesitation, twisting to taste Ango’s mouth, smoothing the small of his back, grinding their hard-ons together, drinking the wine Ango releases. Their journey to the bed is perilous. Ango nearly knocks a lamp over. Dazai definitely bruises his shin on the bed frame, but when they fall among the blankets, he supposes it doesn’t matter much.

Their clothes come off piece by piece. Dazai is in no rush, not if this is lasting longer than tonight. Every time he finds a mole, he stops to kiss it. Before long, Ango is letting out unrestrained moans of pleasure, trying to articulate pleas that make sense. All those fall apart the minute Dazai trails his tongue along the underside of Ango’s cock. “Relax, Ango-kun,” he states, searching through Ango’s pocket for the lube and condom. “I’ll make sure this is good for you.” Dazai withdraws his prize and finds he’s holding two packets of lube instead of one. “Ango-kun, you forgot—”

“I didn’t forget,” he manages, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Just… go easy. I haven’t done this before.”

Dazai blinks. When Ango’s arm moves, he’s somewhere between flustered and annoyed.

“If tonight was the last night, I wanted some part of you to take with me.”

“My cum?”

“A memory,” he retorts. “Of what it felt like when you came inside of me.”

Still startled, Dazai lowers his victorious hand.

“You can call it stupid.”

“No way. It’s sexy.” He hunches over Ango and takes the glasses off. “You look so amazing right now.” Dazai notes the way Ango shivers as he trails two fingers down Ango’s bare chest and smiles. “You’re really wound up tonight. Are you turned on by the fact this isn’t just a transaction?”

“So what if I am?”

Dazai bends to kiss the point where his jawline meets his neck and whispers, “That’s not just cute. It’s priceless.”

When Ango scowls up at him, Dazai smooths his hair aside.

“Ango-kun, so angry—”

“Because you’re still not fingering me.”

“We have all night, Ango-kun.” He drops his lips to Ango’s, then peels away long enough to murmur, “I don’t plan on wasting a single moment.”

They kiss until they’re breathless, until Ango’s cock presses hot and hard against his own. Dazai seeks the lube, finds it, and tears it open. “Dazai-kun.”

Peering down, he sees Ango has spread his legs. He’s surprised his nose doesn’t start bleeding.

“Give me everything.”

Dazai spends a moment teasing Ango’s rim before pressing a finger inside. He’s incredibly tight, but he moans like he’s already on cloud nine. Encouraged, Dazai continues to open him slowly, thrusting his finger a little deeper each time he pulls it out. They come to a point where it’s all the way in, and he presses.

Ango’s eyes snap open, and he arches so much, his back leaves the bed. With a wrecked moan, he drops again, gasping for breath.

“Was that good, Ango-kun?”

“God, Dazai…”

Smiling, Dazai murmurs, “Let me open you up the rest of the way. Then, I’ll give you something even better.”

He knows Ango is ready for another finger when he starts shuffling his hips in time with Dazai’s thrusts. Just like with the first one, he’s careful. Smoothing Ango’s thigh, he intersperses a bit of teasing with his encouragement. “You’re taking this so well, I’m half convinced you do this every night and think of me. Tell me, is the toy you use bigger than my cock or smaller?”

Ango shakes his head. “I don’t use…” He breaks off to moan as Dazai touches his cock.

“Maybe we should have stopped and bought a cock ring. At this rate, you’re not going to last.”

“All the more reason you should stop teasing me and… oh, god…”

Dazai hums. “It could be better if you came first. I don’t want you to be miserable.”

“Please…” Ango gasps the word.

“As you wish, Ango-kun.” He resumes his slow strokes on Ango’s cock, finds a similar rhythm with his fingers, and begins to take Ango apart. The noises he makes are beautiful. Not as pretty as his laugh, but wrecked. Desperate. Real.

Perhaps that last one is Dazai’s favorite part, at least until Ango moans his name. “Dazai-kun… Dazai-kun…” He chants it until he comes apart, almost as if there’s no mistake about who’s doing this to him. Dazai watches him, admiring the way Ango’s body shudders and twists, smiling at the yell so loud it hurts his ears, watching his release splatter across his stomach. He guides Ango through his aftershocks, then slowly removes his hands.

“I don’t know what made more of a mess: you, or the champagne bottle.”

With a groan, Ango retorts, “Is that the best you can do to ruin the mood?”

“I can talk about Odasaku.” Dazai dips his head to Ango’s stomach. “But first, I should clean up the mess you made.”

“Dazai—”

He uses that as an excuse to kiss more of Ango’s body. By the time he’s done, Ango’s cock is getting hard again. He kisses that, too, before rising and slipping his fingers back inside. Ango whimpers and flexes around him. “I think you’re loose enough for my cock. Do you want me to do it, or do you want to ride me?”

“You do it,” Ango pants. “I’ll ride you next time.”

Next time. The words stick in his head. His cock twitches unabashedly at the prospect. “Can I be just a little rougher with you, Ango-kun?”

Ango’s wide eyes rise to his.

“Hey, hey…” He smooths Ango’s face again. “I swear it won’t hurt, alright? If it does, just tell me, and I’ll ease up.”

“Then…” Ango glances away. “I guess it’s fine.”

Eager, Dazai lubes up his cock, steadies it at Ango’s rim, and starts to press. His head grows fuzzy the instant the head slips in past the tight ring of muscle.

“Breathe, Dazai-kun.”

He pants for breath, not realizing he was even holding it, and peers down at Ango.

“Keep going.”

Encouraged, he grabs Ango’s hips and slowly slides the rest of the way in. The way Ango’s own erection twitches as he settles riles him up to a point where he screws his eyes shut. “If you react like that, I won’t be able to hold back.”

A faint rustle reaches his ears. Then, a hand reaches his face. He looks down, right into Ango’s eyes. “Then don’t. If it’s too much, I’ll tell you.”

Squeezing Ango’s slim hips, he starts to pull out and delivers the first thrust a little faster than his fingers.

“God, Dazai-kun, that’s it…”

As Dazai continues rolling his hips, he realizes how unreal this all feels: Ango’s arms around his neck, his own hands around Ango’s waist… once he reaches the tempo that makes the pleasure in his body stir, he reaches down for Ango’s cock, hunching over and resting his other hand beside Ango’s head to steady himself. By now, nothing Ango says has any sense to it, which is good because that's just the way Dazai wants it tonight.

He can tell the exact moment he brushes Ango’s prostate again by the way the man beneath him arches. Dipping to drink in the moan that would otherwise probably result in a noise complaint, he eases up and whispers, “Next time you need to let out a sound like that, just kiss me.”

Ango’s hand presses on the back of his head, and just like that, their tongues are as tangled as the rest of their bodies. Dazai resumes, pulling sound after desperate sound out of Ango. He swallows them all, twisting his hand around Ango’s slick cock, jerking upwards, smoothing the head, pushing his own deeper into Ango’s body. Ango’s hand finds his at some point. Their fingers slot together, and Dazai pulls away to gasp, “I’m going to—”

“Inside,” is Ango’s only demand as their mouths meet again.

As nice as it would be to watch Ango come undone, Dazai is equally happy being trapped in a kiss he doesn’t want to escape. Ango’s cock pulses in his hand, and the other man’s body squeezes. He pushes as deep as he can go, fighting his own orgasm until he’s sure he’s so deep, this night will be a memory that never fully fades. Breaking away, he rocks through his own aftershocks before slumping onto Ango’s body. Despite the grunt he lets out, Ango’s hands soon slip into Dazai’s hair.

“How was that?”

“Good,” Dazai breathes.

“Finally,” Ango sighs.

Kissing the side of Ango’s neck, he rises enough for their eyes to meet. “You?”

“God, Dazai, I don’t ever want to get out of this bed.”

Smirking, Dazai rolls them over without pulling out. His hands find purchase on Ango’s hips again. “Then it’s a good thing we have all night.”

Ango, seemingly getting the message, picks himself up, arches, and begins to rock down onto Dazai’s cock. Satisfied, Dazai rolls his own hips just enough to meet Ango as he descends.

“Can you even come again?” Dazai asks.

“It’s not about… that,” Ango manages, gasping as Dazai thrusts up into him. “It’s about you getting a second chance to fill me even more.”

“God, Ango… who knew you had this kind of libido?”

Ango stops long enough to hunch over and kiss him. This time, it’s gentle. “Maybe you’re not the only one planning not to waste a single moment of this.”

Dazai comes a few minutes later with a desperate moan that Ango makes no move to stop. Then and only then does Ango pull off. Hearing the slick sound of him jerking off, Dazai peers up to see Ango thrusting into his hand. Peering longer, he sees his own release running down Ango’s thighs. “Ango-kun,” he murmurs. “I know it’s frustrating, but you have to slow down. Here… let me finish you off.”

Ango’s hand drops to his and squeezes as Dazai resumes. “You’re going too slow.”

“I’m going at just the right pace.”

Glaring, Ango says, “This isn’t going to get me anywhere.”

“Just give it a little time,” Dazai reassures him. “You’re already hard. By the way, did anyone ever tell you you look stunning with my cum running down your legs?”

“I’d never let anyone else see me like this,” Ango says through his gritted teeth.

Smiling, he murmurs, “Relax a little more.”

“Can’t,” he breathes. “I need to come again. I need…”

“Shhh…” Dazai squeezes his hand back. “I know, Ango-kun. I’ll get you there, but you have to relax.” He strokes Ango’s erection back to its full height, then speeds up, pausing every now and then to tease the head of Ango’s cock. “There. Now fuck my hand.”

Ango’s hips snap, and Dazai applies a little more pressure before he pulls back. Above him, Ango’s eyes are a dark haze of frustration and need. After further efforts prove fruitless, Dazai hums. “You really are worked up. But you’re still not relaxed enough.”

Ango hunches over him.

“Your whole body is shaking.”

“Because I need—”

“Maybe you should come inside of me, too. Fair’s fair, after all.”

Ango stares at him.

“You could fuck my mouth instead, if that appeals to you. Ah, choking on your cock sounds like such a good way to die… it’d feel so nice, I wouldn’t even register the pain.”

“You’re going to ruin the mood, you menace!”

Dazai smiles. “What’s your pleasure, Ango-kun? I’ll give you whichever you desire.”

Softly, Ango murmurs, “Turn around.”

He eagerly complies.

“Put your knees under you.”

“Ango-kun, so direct…”

But by now, Ango seems to know what he’s doing. With the other packet of lube, he fingers Dazai until he’s whining, then fucks him until his eyes roll back in his head. The wrecked moan he tried to prevent earlier spills into his ear as something hotter than Ango’s cock fills him up, adding to the friction. He arches a little more, almost catlike, as Ango finishes him off. It rocks him with so much force, his eyes sting.

Fortunately, that seems to be the last of Ango’s need. Dazai feels him flop into the covers, exhausted. Dazai sprawls out on his stomach, smiling as Ango’s semen runs down his body. He cradles his own head in his arm and turns to find Ango staring at the ceiling.

Panicking that he misinterpreted how good it was, he lurches up.

Ango is already saying, “It was good, alright? It was just a lot. I need to think for a bit.”

Dazai resettles on his pillow, then stretches his arm across Ango’s body. “Can you think like this?”

“Closer.”

Dazai nestles into the crook of Ango’s shoulder, pecking the mole that’s usually hiding beneath his collar. Smoothing it, he asks, “Ango-kun, how long have you had this one?”

“Since birth,” is his answer.

Dazai kisses it again, smooths it with his fingers a second time, and murmurs, “I think I might love your moles.”

In answer, Ango sighs, “I think I might love you.”

He starts a bit, then again when Ango looks up at him intently.

“I know I love you,” he amends. “And if that’s too much, I’m sorry.”

Not knowing what else to do, Dazai burrows against Ango’s side and holds him, hoping that that in some way conveys what he’s not ready to say. Given how Ango rolls over to hold him closer, he guesses something in that motion spoke.

“I didn’t think Odasaku-san would want an epigraph, but if I had to give him one, it would be, ‘Death leaves a heartache no one can heal.’” Ango’s hand trails over his shoulders. “If you ever succeeded in killing yourself, I’d give you the other half of that epigraph. ‘Love leaves a memory no one can steal.’”

Dazai feels his face start to heat up again. “Ango-kun, you’re being sappy.”

“Do you like it?”

After a moment, he grumbles, “It’s gross.”

“Then I’ll stop.”

He shakes his head and pushes closer. “You’re being a bully.”

“You’re being whiny.”

Dazai shuts his eyes, hoping they’ll stop burning. “Odasaku was… a lot of things to me.”

“I know,” Ango murmurs.

“He was a friend, a mentor… he was the first person who made me want to live.”

“I know.” Ango’s fingers trails down his spine.

He gives up trying to stop himself from crying. “I miss him,” he admits.

A third, “I know,” lands in his ear, a soft, reassuring murmur that, rather than stave off the brief, brings it. “And despite how things are between us, I never intend to replace a single one of them.”

“Good,” Dazai breathes, relieved at Ango’s answer. “Good.”

“However.”

Startled by that word, Dazai forgets to resist the gentle hands that guide him back and cup his face. He also forgets to care that Ango jerked him off and fingered him, but he figures at this point, they’re beyond that.

“I do intend to be something else to you, if you’ll let me.”

That offer blurs Dazai’s vision. Slowly, he sets a hand on one of Ango’s and blinks the tears from his eyes.

“Dazai-kun—”

“I miss him,” Dazai breathes. “He never should have died. It’s not fair…”

Ango meets each of his sentences with a single statement. “I know.”

When he’s done spitting words full of grief, he finally says, “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

As with all of his other statements, Ango murmurs, “I know.” Then, he adds, “You’re not alone, Dazai-kun.”

Relieved, he sinks against Ango’s chest and lets his tears free. They’re as much for what he’s lost as for what he has now. He plans to tell Ango as much if he can pull himself together.

But before he can, Ango just says, “I know,” and holds him tighter.

Finally pulling away, he wipes his face and says, “I’m wasting time doing this now.”

“Time spent feeling isn’t wasted at all.”

He remembers when Odasaku told him something like that.

“If it is, I’ve wasted every moment I’ve mourned and every moment I’ve been falling for you.”

Snickering, Dazai manages, “What kind of man falls in love when the sex is chronically bad?”

“It was good tonight,” Ango reassures him.

“What if it gets bad again?”

Ango answers the instant that question concludes. “Then we talk about it and find ways to make it good again.”

That answer seems too simple, almost like the kind of advice Odasaku would give them if he were alive and they came to him with this issue.

“I need to shower.”

Dazai groans and rises. “I’ll shower with you. But I’m warning you, what you see under these bandages might make you reconsider.”

“At this point?” Ango rises and smooths his messy hair. “I doubt that.”

Dazai unwinds his own bandages. He catches Ango studying this scar or that. He makes no move to touch them on their own, but he does when they’re beneath the hot water out of a need to reciprocate Dazai’s careful washing of him. They soak in the tub after, which is so big, they can lean shoulder to shoulder. Beneath the water, Ango’s fingers brush against his wrist, then settle in the gaps between his again.

“Three weeks is too long to wait to see you again,” Ango finally murmurs.

With a dramatic sigh, Dazai announces, “You’re telling me you came four times, and that wasn’t enough?”

He watches Ango weigh that number before saying, “I was going to suggest an antique shop. Did you know there’s one in your current town that sells manga?”

“Really?” he asks, contemplating the words.

“We can get dinner somewhere quiet.”

“There’s a curry restaurant.”

Ango hums. “We can walk after.”

“Barefoot on the beach?” Dazai suggests.

“I’m not a huge fan of sand between my toes, but for you, I’ll tolerate it.”

Dazai smirks.

“And don’t even think about shoving me into the ocean. I’d rather not show up at a hotel in wet clothes.”

“Ango-kun, you wound me! I would never!”

The smile Ango answers will tells Dazai he doesn’t just think otherwise; he knows.

“You can’t blame me for thinking you’re hot when you’re soaked,” Dazai announces, smoothing Ango’s hair. “But since you’re willing to walk on the beach with me, I guess I’ll show some restraint.”

“For once?” Ango studies him. “I’m beginning to think you lied about being Dazai Osamu if you’re doing anything of the sort.”

“Says the guy who got so horny and wound up, he couldn’t come again.” He smiles as Ango rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ashamed of it, Ango-kun. It was cute.” When Ango doesn’t object to the word, he continues, “You were really something. Honestly, I don’t know how you’re ever going to top it.”

“I have some ideas.”

“Such as?”

“Choking you, for starters.”

Dazai laughs, partly because it’s funny to hear Ango planning anything, partly because the idea is more appealing than it should be. As his amusement dies off, he changes the subject. “I think I’m in a place where I can actually organize the books. You know… so you have somewhere to stay when you come here.”

“That would defeat the purpose of going anywhere.”

“No way. I like going places with you. Having a cleaner space won’t change that.”

Ango seems to be thinking over those words when he sways a little. Dazai catches him.

“We’ve been soaking for too long. You’re starting to get light-headed. I’ll bet you look like pickled ginger under the water. Or a pickled plum. One of the dried ones, because you’re starting to prune.”

“Help me out, then.”

“Mmm… but Ango-kun—”

“Do you want me to pass out?”

Dazai smiles. “If you did, I could give you mouth to mouth.”

“Dazai-kun.”

“Alright, alright…” He helps Ango stand as best he can with his own wobbly legs. They wind up on top of the clean bed. The blankets feel cool and soft against Dazai’s skin. Ango’s skin is hot to the touch. “Ango-kun.”

Ango hums and opens his eyes.

“I hope you won’t have to ask me if this happened in the morning.”

“If I do, it’s because it’s all too good to be true.”

Dazai snickers. “I’ll deny it, then point you to the other bed and say you made that mess all on your own.”

Ango sighs and shuts his eyes. “You seem to be a huge fan of getting under my skin.”

“I was so deep earlier, you’ll never get me out.” He catches Ango’s smile as he closes his own eyes. He nods off fairly quickly but wakes up when the bed moves. The room goes dark, and he pretends to be sleeping as Ango comes back. The covers jostle, and before long, Dazai feels them settle over his body. He’s not used to so much fabric touching him, but as Ango climbs in beside him, rather than complain, he inches closer and murmurs, “Thank you,” before nodding off again.

For once, in the morning, they don’t rush to vacate the room. Finding they don’t need to talk about when they’re meeting again, not because this is their last time but because they’ve already discussed it, they spend part of the morning just laying in bed together, then opt to order room service once they grow hungry. Dazai is a little disappointed they don’t eat it naked, but he’s itching to return to his bandages, and the hotel yukata are nice.

Between bites of fruit and pastries, Dazai pauses. “Ango-kun, you have today off, don’t you?”

“I do,” Ango states, munching on a pastry.

“Then…” Dazai smiles at him. “Let’s go sightseeing before we leave.”

Ango peers at him. “Like a… date?” he asks.

“No like about it,” Dazai corrects him, kicking his feet. “There’s a pottery store here. And an antique shop. We can eat lunch. I’d suggest curry, but we’re doing that next time.”

Ango smiles.

“Ango-kun, are you thinking something indecent?”

“Not at all, Dazai-kun. I’m spent after last night. It just… seems we can’t get away from the routine of planning their next meeting the morning after having sex, even when it’s good.”

Sitting up, Dazai smooths Ango’s mole. Before long, Ango is staring at him. “You’re pretty when you smile,” he murmurs.

Ango offers up the last bite of his pastry. Once Dazai accepts the bite, he counters, “You’re pretty all the time.”

Choking mostly out of embarrassment, Dazai knocks his fist against his chest and prepares to chide Ango for bullying him in his usual dramatic fashion. Instead, he finds the government employee offering him a cup of tea. Dazai takes it, but Ango doesn’t let go. He drinks. Ango drinks after, their hands still intertwined on the ceramic cup. He almost forgets breakfast in the kiss they get lost in after. In fact, he would if not for the irresistible desire to walk with Ango’s hand in his own while they explore, to see Ango’s intense focus as he studies this bit of pottery or that, or his delight when they stumble upon an antique shop.

I miscalculated, Dazai realizes as they draw apart. Waiting for the good part… hell, it’s not totally inaccurate, but I was so focused on that, I couldn’t see that the better part was already there.

Ango’s fingers skim his face, but instead of kissing again, he shuts his eyes and leans so their foreheads touch.

Just… being with him was always a good part in its own right.

Dazai could kick himself for not seeing that until now. He could kick Tsushima Shuuji, too. But as they draw away to finish their meal, he decides that just means he needs to put more effort into appreciating that now. As the hotel door slams behind him, he grabs Ango’s hand and says, “I don’t plan on wasting a moment of this morning, either.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Dazai-kun,” Ango answers, turning to smile at him again. “Because neither do I.”