Archive of Our Own

The overwhelming pungency of the kennel first thing in the morning was not exactly what a normal morning enthusiast would choose over the strong herbs of green tea, or the sharp bitterness of a cup of coffee.  

However, there were worse things in life. Indignance ran rampant in humanity, and therefore it made its way to their dogs. Too often the dogs that ended up in the kennel had found themselves bored out of their skulls, and laying waste to their human’s belongings and surroundings. 

Chuuya’s situation was one of similar circumstances. Cast out and dumped for his destructive tendencies. 

He eventually found sanctuary in a distant cousin; twice removed, or something.She was strict, meticulous and often times brutal in her desire to keep perfection and order in close balance with one another. This reflected in the dogs she worked with. 

Almost immediately, he was thrust face first into the intense and often brutal scape of the dog training world. It wasn’t some warm and welcoming community, but rather a bitter world filled with dizzying intensity.

It was a dog eat dog world, after all. 

Somewhere along the way, Chuuya cracked under the momentous pressure. He withdrew from the public spotlight, it was all too similar to what he had experienced growing up. 

He retired from the public scene quietly, establishing Off-lead Canine, a training kennel in a small suburb outside the city with a large population of ignorant dog owners, who thought throwing money at any problem would fix everything. There were times Chuuya could fix it easily, but there were other times the lack of socialization and care made a dog go mad. Some Chuuya had a particular soft spot for and stayed as permanent residents when their families decided it was too much. Aside from the indignant owners, the city often threw dangerous dogs his way, desperate for a final bid at rehabilitation. 

Sometimes, there weren't enough resources to save them all. 

A lot of money went back into the place. Renovations and taking care of the more permanent residents ate up a good chunk of income, along with paying Tachihara a livable wage for his family and making sure he himself had more than a cardboard box to sleep in. Cheap coffee, missed meals, and processed foods made up the better part of his time at home.

Most mornings started with the cantankerous wailing and howling of fifty outraged and hungry canine residents, while Chuuya’s night auditor— bedraggled and desperate to escape the morning light peeking through the front windows and needy dogs— passed him on his way out. This morning was different. The door wasn’t already unlocked, and Chuuya frowned at his phone.

One unread message.

Michizou - 6:57 AM.

sorry had to bounce early. Junichirou said crabby patty was up all night, and if I didn’t make it home in an hour I would and quote be skinned and left for the crows.

without sex.

for a year.

locked up and turned the coffee pot on byeeeeeeeeee.

Chuuya rolled his eyes; partially in disgust at the TMI, and partially from his morning routine being thrown for a ringer. He shoved his hands into his pockets, fumbling for his personal keys.

Upon opening the door, there was his familiar morning greeting. They had probably been left alone for all of twenty minutes and were acting like Chuuya was a born again Jesus. 

“Yeah, yeah, shut up! I’m here you fucking babies—”

Chuuya always walked in expecting the ordinary.

What he wasn’t expecting, was to see some idiot in Tag’s cage, screaming like a banshee on the ground. 

Chuuya paled, and his coffee fell to the floor as he ran and skidded across tile. Flashbacks of the damage Kouyou’s dogs could do fluttered across his vision, wiping out any logical conclusion to the current scenario. What was that fucking idiot thinking? Panic flooded him, but a momentary lapse of trust in Tag quickly faded as he halted in front of the steel kennel doors.

The moron was, at most, slobbered half to death. The only wounds he bore were scratches from Tag’s normal idiocy. The moronic malinois had flunked out of the police academy, drug detection, bomb sniffing and personal security. All because he had a brain the size of a walnut, probably similar to the man in the kennel he was slobbering all over.

“Help!! He’s—he’s trying to eat me!!” 

“Tag, you useless fucking mutt. At least drown him in slobber if you’re not gonna maul him. What the fuck are you doing in there?” 

The intruder curled in on himself, awkwardly holding one leg out against Tag’s chest to keep him at bay. It was a failed attempt as the dog seemingly ran with Chuuya’s command for once in his life, and continued his oral assault. 

Chuuya laughed, the anger over his spilled coffee forgotten.

“Okay, okay . Tag, here.” Tag seemed to contemplate Chuuya’s command for a moment, alternating between staring at the stranger’s sopping sleeve and licking his lips. Chuuya whistled sharply, breaking the dog from his trance. “Sit. Settle.” The dog whined and gave up, returning to Chuuya’s side in defeat. Chuuya smacked the dog’s rib cage, letting out an approving hum.

The man in front of them immediately jumped to his feet, the panic fluttering in his gaze just moments before slowly dying as he made a retching noise at his soaked sleeve.

“Don’t you train attack dogs or something?” he hissed. Chuuya scowled, leaning back against the kennel, not letting the man walk out so easily. 

“Attack dogs aren’t a thing, fuckhead. That’s what your coke dealer tells you his pitbull can do if you try to stiff him.” Chuuya stared him up and down, and bristled as he was greeted with a disdainful look followed by an eye roll. 

They continued to regard each other from across the space. The man’s eyes were glazed with mistrust and something else. Whatever it was seemed hidden underneath a vacant and disgusted look, but Chuuya still recognized it. He’d seen it too many times. 

Tag rested at Chuuya’s side, covering his right hand in slobber that felt more like ectoplasm. His fists tightened.

Chuuya bit his lip and swept his bangs out of his face. “Look, I’ll let you go half drowned this time. But I got shit to do. Out.” That really intensified the look in Dazai’s eyes. Chuuya was nearly taken aback, but his scowl deepened considerably. 

“Can any mutt make a reservation here? Just so long as they’re badly behaved?”

“Haaaaah? Not poorly behaved. More like unwanted .”

Before Chuuya could even finish his sentence, Dazai stared around the fray of barking and frantic dogs. It was clear the gears in his head were turning, and Chuuya fought to try to figure out where this conversation was going. 

The man reached out and touched the collar hanging from Tag’s kennel. 

“Oh no,” Chuuya said, shaking his head as he started to clue into where this conversation was going. “Not happening. You also need to be a dog . That’s why it’s a dog kennel—”

“So… if I were unwanted, and a dog,” the man drew it out, ignoring Chuuya’s interjection and plucking at the collar, “I’d be able to stay.”

Chuuya knew enough to be wary around strange men, but the slow and deliberate way Dazai spoke sent a new wave of goosebumps up his arms. “Yeah, and since you are neither of those things—”

The man fell to his knees. He shoved the collar around his neck, and clasped the metal buckle in a frantic, clumsy scramble that gave Chuuya whiplash from the earlier smoothness of his voice. 

What was happening? 

Chuuya blanched, staring down at someone he hardly believed had the audacity to beg. For something so demeaning and ridiculous, nonetheless. 

“But if I was?”

The answer was immediate. 

“No. Absolutely not .” 

The strange man adapted a whine so similar to the canine companion at Chuuya’s left. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, throwing a pleading and doe-eyed gaze up at Chuuya from the concrete. 

“Please? I have friends in high places. Friends that…“ His words were thick as molasses, and that smooth tone was back. “...could contribute a bit of money to this dump.”

His mouth flew open but the words died on Chuuya’s tongue. There was a clear conflict of interest at play here; the man manipulating his way into Chuuya’s core and tugging at what he knew deep down was most important. That much was evident in the way Dazai’s eyes flickered across him. His clothes didn’t exactly screamwealth or anything. But, the rolex on his left wrist said otherwise. 

Meanwhile, Chuuya’s amateur handiwork was evident in the shoddy repairs around the building, and the cheap coffee boiling torridly on the counter. Dogs that didn’t have addresses on their kennel cards, or phone numbers--

Damnit, he got me. Chuuya thought, a fresh wave of disgust boiling up. 

The silence between them was deafening, the maddening sound of the dogs falling into the background. There was something else, beyond the sweet temptations and promises falling from the man’s lips. 

Chuuya had seen that look before. 

He had seen it in every pitbull rehabilitating from the fighting ring, every neglected street dog and more so himself. A desperate yearning for a place to be. There was something amiss with the way Dazai clung onto this concept of being a dog simply for a place to stay. Chuuya curled his lip, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Or maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe he was still just as desperate for a one way ticket to hell. 

“You know Chibi , maybe your hellbeast isn’t up to the task of mauling someone because his trainer just isn’t up to the task?” It was spoken in a hum, something… like disappointment? 

Chuuya’s nostrils flared in indignation at this fucker suggesting he was a less than adequate trainer. But the stranger had the gall to carry on even after Chuuya’s blood was already boiling.

“And listen to all these loudmouths. Bet nobody here follows any real commands —”

Fine. This guy wanted to stay as a ‘loudmouth mutt’? Chuuya would put him through the same regimen. He straightened out, wiping his hand down his face and snapped his finger pointing downwards. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this, but he had a point to prove.

“Come. ” 

It was evident in Dazai’s gaze that he hadn’t thought that smart remark through. He narrowed his eyes then must have realized that was the angle he had decided to play. 

“Just because Chibi thinks he’s some alpha of a pack of strays doesn’t mean I’m rolling over so easily,” he said, crawling forward on his hands and knees. 

Chuuya made some noise of disbelief.

“Lucky for you, no dog has ever left here without a lick of respect for me. So I guess it’s bootcamp now, eh? Name,” Chuuya snapped. 

Tag let out an excited bark from his side. 

Dazai’s lips curled, but he evidently thought dissing the dog again wasn’t worth the effort. Instead he cleared his throat, straightening his neck out. The tags jingled around his neck. 

“Dazai.” 

Chuuya put his hand on his hip, and stared him down.

“ Full name, moron. Guests require the dog’s first name and the owner’s last name.” 

Dazai bit his lip in clear agitation, but sighed outwards and licked his lips. He fixed Chuuya with a defeated look; something blank and altogether unpleasant. “Osamu, Dazai, Chibi. ” Chuuya bristled.

“Don’t ever call me that again! Not everybody is some lanky beanpole with a death wish.” Dazai smirked, and rolled the collar between his fingertips.

“Noted.” 

Chuuya flicked Dazai’s face. He felt defeat stirring in himself, as the seconds ticked on. 

Not every morning started with an absolute moron terrorizing the kennel. After putting Tag back into his kennel, Chuuya jammed a leash clip into the collar ring around Dazai’s neck and gave a gentle tug. Dazai made an indignant noise. “Ehhhh, can I at least not walk on all fours? It’s gross in here.”

“Shoulda’ thought of that before you came into this gross place.” But he allowed Dazai to stand anyways.

The kennels near the back wall had glass doors and were built into the concrete structure. The fence climbers and escape artists mostly stayed in there. Chuuya dug up a cot from the storage shed from his days of sleeping overnight, before Tachihara saved his ass. He dumped it into the kennel unceremoniously, smirking internally when he saw Dazai’s lip curl at his accommodations. 

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.” Chuuya stated, hanging up a bucket pail on a rusty hook in the wall. Dazai made a disgruntled noise, and looked around the room. In Chuuya’s defense, it was one of the better kept rooms. Rarely used as there was a small flaw in the wall that could easily lend itself to a dog’s escape. A bit of finangling and the door would pop wide open.  If Dazai wanted to go back out, he could be Chuuya’s guest.

“What are you doing here, anyways?” The question that had been itching at the back of Chuuya’s mind reared its ugly head. Dazai didn’t give anything away, shifting to stare at the wall opposite him.

“Wouldn’t Chibi like to know.”

“Yeah. That’s why I asked, fucker.” 

There was something dark in Dazai’s eyes, as he hummed and walked past Chuuya, their shoulders bumping a bit painfully. There was no way that wasn’t calculated and purposeful. Chuuya sucked in a deep breath, as Dazai stared at what must have been a rather fascinating crack in the wall.

“Somebody said you had dangerous dogs here. That’s it.” 

Chuuya frowned, crossing his arms. He leaned against the doorframe, and stared upwards. It was clear Dazai had no intention of telling Chuuya the truth, and that he would warp this whole conversation in his favor. That much Chuuya had gathered from their last twenty minutes of interacting with one another. 

“I told you —”

“— I picked the one that looked closest to dangerous. Police forces use that kind a lot.” There was a fresh wave of understanding, and Chuuya whipped his head down to stare Dazai down. His heart pounded in his chest, and his blood boiled. “Too bad that pointy eared mutt has a brain the size of a grain of rice,” Dazai finished. 

“You selfish fucking bastard.” 

Dazai gasped, because in the next second Chuuya’s hand was fastened around his throat. He leaned in, and he could feel Dazai’s breath hitch and his throat muscles flexing underneath his fingertips.

“Nobody— nobody fucks with my dogs. Got it? A bite record for some of these guys is enough for the pink juice. That shit won’t fly under my roof.” Dazai laughed in a nonsensical way, meeting Chuuya’s gaze unwaveringly. Chuuya dropped his hold and Dazai fell to the floor, wincing as his rear met the hard concrete. 

“Watch it, or I’ll make sure that’s exactly what you get.”

Dazai smirked, and laughed as Chuuya left the room.

“Ah, I hope Chibi grants my wish then~”

—

Every morning for the following weeks started with a similar headache.  Not only did he have to put up with Tachihara’s absolutely fucking judgy face when they did the morning keyswap, but his smartass unnecessary remarks about the “piece of tail” in the back. 

It was clear from the get go there was something a bit off kilter about Dazai. He had some awkward mannerisms, and seemed to resort to manipulation tactics that would make any war strategist proud. Chuuya was a far cry from cruel, but he was true to his word. He let Dazai stay, but if Dazai wanted to be a dog then he was going to be treated like one (to a certain extent, of course). Chuuya still found himself making an extra pack of instant noodles, giving the guy the key to the house so he could take a bath and going out and buying him a change of clothes, and doing his laundry like some housewife. 

Dazai went from 0 to 100 much akin to Chuuya. Only it started from 0 being all smiles, joking and awful flirtatious jokes to 100. 100 was a dark and dangerous glimmer in the man’s crimson gaze, similar to when he challenged Chuuya with a shot of pink juice to stop his heart. He seemed to relish in the idea, and it made Chuuya’s skin crawl. 

Chuuya had seen that look a few times before. 

Before he got the shit beat out of him, and came to his senses about the bad crowd he was surrounding himself with, before he found purpose, and something he could do in his own existential way to better a select few around him. It reminded him of a dog he knew he couldn’t save. A victim of poor breeding and shitty circumstances. The dog had hurt somebody, and by the time Chuuya tried to intervene, it was too late.

That’s what Dazai’s gaze reminded him of most of all.

Somebody he couldn’t save.

Most mornings he would find Dazai in a heaping pile of blankets on the cot, curled up very much like a cat. Chuuya would drop a bag of food in the room, and go about his own errands ignoring any of the thin wails coming from the cot. He discovered fairly quickly that Dazai liked seafood of any kind, exonerating him even further as the feline he was destined to be in a very canine labyrinth. Though Chuuya’s budget could only extend to canned tuna and fake crab meat. 

Chuuya scoffed, as he took Tag out for his morning training routine, and Dazai stretched out luxuriously across the cot for his food upon passing. 

Waste of space. And bandages.

...So why did he keep putting those in with the food too?

—

Chuuya was greeted with an unusual happening when he entered the kennel the next morning.

Silence.

A pleasant sound was echoing through the halls. It was akin to the great classical orchestrators of the last century. As Chuuya walked by each kennel, the dogs seemed mellow and blissed out. There were tail wags, and gentle boofs but no loud and obnoxious howls and yips.

Naturally, the sound was coming from the kennel Dazai had taken up residency in. He was playing some calming tunes on his phone, and had left it just outside the door. Chuuya looked at his screen, and saw the title on the YouTube video. Calming music for anxious dogs; Ten hours.

A smile crossed Chuuya’s face, and he looked down at Dazai’s sleeping face. He seemed at peace and content for once. Chuuya’s eyes drifted down to the tags fastened around Dazai’s neck.

Some days, Chuuya didn’t even notice the addition. Sometimes, Dazai didn’t venture out from under his blanket pile when Chuuya stopped by. He didn’t know why he kept bringing Dazai food that was better than what he was eating. The bandages were just from his various first aid kits. At least that was excusable...

He assumed Dazai was taking advantage of the amenities he had left in the employee bathroom for him, and was using the dog bathing station to clean himself off. Dazai never smelled bad, and he always carried the pleasant scent of apples. Chuuya smiled, and dropped the bag of food on the cot. Dazai stiffed, and stretched out from underneath his blanket pile. He rubbed his eyes free of the sleep plaguing them. Chuuya didn’t say anything, just observed him quietly. 

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Ehhhh, Chibi woke me up from a really pleasant dream.”

Chuuya scoffed. “About what? Chasing mice and sleeping in the sun all day? ‘Cause that’s probably all you do anyways.” 

Dazai chuckled, and blinked sleepily up at him.

“Not at all. It may have had more to do with this,” he pointed at the collar dangling around his neck. “And with Chuuya a little bit too.” The way he said Chuuya’s name made him shiver, and he narrowed his eyes down at Dazai. Dazai smirked in exchange.

“...Trying to get a reaction out of me, asshole?”

“That depends, Chibi. Did it work?”

— 

“...Yeah. Thanks for the call. Appreciate it.” 

It wasn’t like he intended to slam his fist against the wall after the line went dead. It just happened. His stomach sunk to his feet, and a dizzying nausea settled over him. Similarly, it just so happened that Dazai had rounded the corner in that moment. 

Chuuya’s nostrils flared, and he scrubbed his face furiously with his hand. Dazai tilted his head. “What, did that stupid poodle’s owner extend their stay or something? That dog has less manners than a—”

Chuuya snapped.

It was his old temper rearing its ugly head, threatening to consume him like tar bubbling through his veins. He clenched his teeth, and hissed, his phone nearly shattering in his fingertips. He was so consumed with emotion, he missed the look of fear in Dazai’s eyes. Chuuya’s voice shook underneath the weight of his words.

“Fuck you . What would you know about anything?” Chuuya skipped over the fact that he had adored this dog. Instead Dazai’s shitty comment was the only thing he chose to let himself focus on.“That was…one of the dog’s owners. Haruto was under the knife, and something went wrong.”

Chuuya could barely see straight,  so he missed the fear and panic settling over Dazai’s features and the way the man’s fingers shook. He missed the signs and forged on because he was drowning, and anger was the only lifeline he could grasp.  “He’s fucking dead, so no . He won’t be coming back for any boarding or training or anything anymore.”

And he left, rounding the corner and slamming the door behind him. He didn’t care to hear what Dazai had to say. He just wanted a fucking smoke, and to escape the chorus of barks and whines echoing in the confines of his own head.

But most of all, he wanted to escape Dazai. Because he couldn’t bear to let him see the tears stinging the corners of his eyes. 

—

Something changed in Dazai after that.

Chuuya felt utterly robbed, as he was just beginning to see the ice melt away from the man. There was no more quiet music lulling the dogs. Dazai seemed content in the frenzy and chaos of noise erupting around him once more. He barely touched the food Chuuya brought for him, and there were no more teasing comments.

Only loss crossed Chuuya’s mind now. He had lost one of his favourite dogs, and now he felt a loss for the person Dazai had started to become. It was Chuuya’s own fault, he’d done this after all. 

Chuuya always ruined everything he touched.

Before he locked up, he lingered near the door to Dazai’s suite. No sound came from it; just the sight of the blanket rising and falling with small breaths. Chuuya bit his lip and knocked. No sound greeted him.

“What, not even going to meow for me?” he teased lightly. Dazai said nothing. Chuuya scoffed and frowned, leaning against the wall. “Do you want to talk or something?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard. Especially coming from you.” Dazai didn’t wince. His expression was blank, and Chuuya noticed something else. 

There was something sad in the solidarity that was Dazai, a heavy sheen coating his blank gaze. Chuuya bit his lip, and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think of something— anything . There was one thing, but...

Chuuya tapped the glass of the door again; a desperate fumble for Dazai’s attention.

“...Oi, kitty.” That got him. Dazai gave Chuuya a strange look. “I’m here to bust you out. There’s a fireplace at home with a soft rug that has your name written all over it.” 

Chuuya wished he had a camera. 

Dazai’s face was priceless.

— 

Chuuya had already texted Tachihara and told him to keep his ass in the car (the keys would be on the counter), but Dazai lingered in the doorway to the lobby. His fingers were tight around his phone, and Chuuya wondered if there was a way to make this offer seem more legitimate.

A quick fumble in the drawers revealed a stack of papers clumsily stapled together. Dazai looked on, with guarded curiosity settling over his features. Chuuya smirked and presented the stapled pages to Dazai.

“See this? These are adoption papers.” Dazai gave nothing away, expression guarded. “I keep these around for when a dog is dumped here, and can actually find a new place to go. I think I can make an exception for the cat masquerading as a dog who’s taken up residency here.” 

He was lying through his teeth. It was just another prank Tachihara had left laying around not long after Dazai arrived, but Chuuya would make it work. 

Dazai gaped. Chuuya continued, “Y’know. For tax and audit purposes, or some shit.” And for the first time in a long while, Dazai laughed. It was genuine, nothing forced or creepy like Chuuya had heard so many times before.

“That laughing supposed to be a yes, asshole?”

“Yeah, yeah… lead the way. Chibi~”

--

His home suited Chuuya’s lifestyle of never being around except to sleep and brush his teeth. 

It was there, that Dazai really showed his true colors. This ranged from long naps tucked under blankets on the sofa, to putting bugs in Chuuya’s shampoo and everything in between. A tie between a living hell on Earth and peace at the things Dazai did to liven up the household.

Two weeks later, Chuuya tied his hair up and was making dinner in the kitchen. The vegetables simmered away in the wok and the meat was resting on the cutting board. He didn’t ask where they came from. He didn’t want to hear if Dazai had pinched them from the store, or dug them out of the dumpster. 

Ignorance was bliss.

Dazai rarely ventured in the kitchen, mostly vocalizing from the couch that he was starving to death. This time he walked right in, silently, and rested his forehead on Chuuya’s shoulder.

Immediately, Chuuya was on the defensive. But he felt the soft stir of Dazai breathing against his shirt and he stayed still. Chuuya reached one hand back to run his fingers through Dazai’s hair. His fingers trailed down his nape and he felt the collar still snug around Dazai’s neck.

Chuuya had bought Tag’s owners a new one long ago. This one had taken up a new residency elsewhere.

Chuuya tilted his head to brush his and Dazai’s noses together, a soft hum emanating from his throat. Dazai practically purred and returned the soft gesture, something close to adoration pooling in his eyes.

In that moment, Chuuya knew he was gone.

“...Dazai?”  

Dazai replied with nothing more than a brief ‘hm?’. Chuuya looked back down at the food simmering away, his fingers clenched at the edges of the counter. 

“What… happened?” Chuuya felt Dazai stiffen against him, but Chuuya reached around to grab the back of his neck, holding him there, willing him to not run away. 

A silent plea from a desperate man. 

“Don’t you run from me. Look… I’m... I’m sorry for, y’know, exploding like that. That wasn’t fair.” Chuuya bit his lip, staring at a black speck on the countertop. Dazai was quiet, no longer pulling against the gravity of Chuuya’s hand grounding him. “But you didn’t know that dog. So why did you look like somebody just killed your best friend?”

Chuuya internally swore upon the realization of the bite behind his words. Shame flooded him when he felt Dazai shiver. That disgusting temper of his, rearing its ugly head once again. “”Look, Dazai, I’m —”

“—It’s okay.”

Dazai finally spoke. Chuuya reached in front of him to turn the burner off. They were probably not going to be eating anytime soon. 

“Can we talk about it?” There was a moment of hesitation, but Dazai slowly nodded against the back of Chuuya’s neck. Chuuya slid his thumb soothingly back and forth over Dazai’s skin. Dazai breathed in and out shallowly, probably stumbling over the right words. Him and Chuuya really were kindred spirits.

“A friend of mine. He died like that.” 

Chuuya’s eyes widened, but he stayed silent, a silent plea for Dazai to continue. 

“You know, just a simple surgery. They say to never work on family or friend, so I was just waiting for it to be over. To drive him home, but that other... stupid anesthesiologist  had to mess up the anesthesia...”

Dazai’s words were still settling in Chuuya’s brain. The pieces of the puzzle that were Dazai Osamu finally coming together. The fancy phone, the fucking rolex, the way he reacted when Chuuya had told him, how Dazai wanted Tag to—

“If it was me, he would still be here. Odasaku would be alive, and I-I would do anything to be the one six feet under instead—”

Chuuya turned around, cutting off Dazai’s words with his mouth. 

The words died on Dazai’s tongue. It was chaste, and effective in the way it stopped Dazai in his tracks. Chuuya pulled away, licking his lips, internally smirking at the way Dazai’s mouth still hung open.

“Look.” Dazai just stared, his fingers brushing against his lips where Chuuya’s were just moments ago. “I don’t know this Oda guy, but…

“I do know this. I know everything happens for a reason. I hate that it does sometimes, and it feels like the whole world is out to get you or wants you to mess up and fail at every turn. But that’s part of life.” Chuuya sucked in a breath, as Dazai averted his gaze. “Didn’t you have rich friends or something you could have gone to instead of coming here ?” Dazai shook his head.

“Oh. So you just had your big, fat, hospital paychecks?” Dazai nodded again, pinching at a thread on the end of his sleeve. 

Even Chuuya wasn’t expecting what happened next. But Chuuya began to laugh. 

His hand slammed against the counter to brace himself, and Dazai momentarily flinched, looking on in confusion. Chuuya snorted into his sleeve, and came back towards Dazai, pressing his hand against the slender man’s waist. Dazai just looked on in bated confusion. 

Chuuya rubbed Dazai’s hip with his thumb. “Forget what you said. Y’know, about paying for a room. Consider it a stay at the shittiest hotel, after something bad happened. I can’t charge you for that. I’m… sorry about your friend. I’m sorry you feel so responsible that you wanted a dog to fucking eat you.” 

Dazai chuckled at that. “Seems stupid, when you put it like that.”

“It is stupid, Dazai. But it’s not stupid to feel bad about something. But don’t go torturing yourself or trying to off yourself because of it. You weren’t even the one to make a mistake.”

Dazai shrugged. “I know.”

Chuuya stared at him. “Do you?” 

“I don’t know. I know a lot of biology and mathematics. But people… people are hard. Odasaku got that. This,” Dazai pointed at the collar around his neck and gestured at his blanket on the couch, and his cup sitting in front of the fireplace. “This all makes sense. You make sense.”

Chuuya swallowed, licking his lips. That was probably the closest to a compliment he had ever gotten from Dazai. He took a step closer, wrapping both of his arms around Dazai’s waist, the food on the counter forgotten.

“Dogs make sense to me. I was never much of a cat guy. But I guess you’re the exception to that.”

Dazai laughed, and pressed his nose against Chuuya’s hairline. 

“Even though Chibi’s a yappy mutt, I guess he makes sense to me too.”