Random Stories by Mercyy

BSD Skk - Deep Talks + BSD oc

It felt surreal to Chuuya how he was, once again, living under the same roof as the bastard mummy, after all those years. And what was even better —or worse, depending on Chuuya's mood—, was that they were now closer than ever.

It still didn't click on his head, the reason why or the exact moment when they started dating for real. Sometimes, when Dazai did something very stupid, he asked himself: "how can I be in love with such a moron?". But then he remembered how caring, how tender he truly was, the way his delicate, dark curtain of eyelashes hung above his bronze, dreamy eyes, with that dumb yet loving smirk of his. How he worried for Chuuya when he was forced to use Corruption, how he saw something in him not even himself could see, how he made him feel —like he belonged, like he was human, and not a monster. And so, he thought: "maybe, just maybe, he's not that bad."

He knocked on the bathroom door, waiting for Dazai's reply. He hummed to come in, so Chuuya did. He still wasn't used to seeing Dazai naked (even if the water was covering his whole body except his head), so his eyes unconsciously danced around the room before landing on the brunette's bandaged hand and handing him the towel he had requested.

"Thank you," he told him with a soft smile, and he started drying his hair. Chuuya looked away, but he stayed with him. He kneeled, leaning his elbows on the edge of the bathtub, staring at him. «His bandaged hand...»

Then, he realized. He had never, ever, seen Dazai without those bandages on. Even now, they covered most of his body —his arms, his neck, his torso, maybe even more...?.

The question lingered on the tip on his tongue while he debated in his head whether it was a good or bad idea to ask. Dazai noticed this, so he threw the towel at Chuuya's face.

"Oi-", he removed the towel from his face, meeting Dazai's smile.

"What are you staring at? You look strangely thoughtful," he commented. Chuuya still didn't know if it was fine for him to ask, but he gathered the courage and did anyways.

"Samu," he caught Dazai's expression get serious, probably since Chuuya never called him by his first name, "I've always wondered... why do you wrap yourself up with these bandages?" he grabbed his hand, pointing at his palm where they were, "There hasn't been a second in my life that I've seen you without them."

The brunette kept awfully quiet, staring at the tiled white wall  in front of him. Chuuya's heart started sinking. He probably shouldn't have asked that.

After some seconds, he spoke, "it's a personal thing of mine, actually."

The redhead then hurried to say, "y-you don't have to answer if you don't want to-"

"Because, Chuuya," he cut him off, still avoiding his eyes, "I hate my body. It's scarred, damaged and bruised; it's ugly. I don't want anyone to see it, nor I want to see it myself."

Chuuya shut his mouth abruptly. Dazai's words had hit him like a slap, and something inside him had hurt, something like a cold stab wound. He didn't know what to say. The steam coming out of the tub was suddenly too warm, too thick, he couldn't breathe well, he was sweating.

The detective lowered his eyes.

"I hope that's okay to you..."

His voice somehow relaxed him, got him out of that little shock. The redhead, as a reflex, delicately pulled Dazai's arm closer to him. He closed his eyes and saw himself place a tender kiss on his palm, then on his forearm, his shoulder, his clavicle, his Adam's apple, and lastly, a gentle kiss on the boy's pink lips, one that lingered a little more.

Chuuya opened his eyes, smiling at an adorably blushed Dazai, and tugged some wet hair strands behind his ear. "I love every part of you, Osamu. Even if you can't love yourself."