#i always imagined that the blood splatter from dazai’s fall would look like a red flower from atsu and aku’s pov

[caelanglang]

Beast Dazai :,)

red carnations

bloodied crown, my sins

filled pages— I fell with a

heart that ached for thee

.

[inner-dreamscape]

Pink Skies pt. 2

Title: Sirens

Part One

Also posted on AO3

The electrical buzzing of the blinking 'VANCANCY' sign outside the motel was hypnotizing. Chuuya stared blankly down at his hands, splayed open in the red light, then splayed out in the darkness when the sign blinked back off again. Again and again, his hands appeared in a haunting cycle, each time the same. Nothing changed. Nothing he did afterwards changed the fact that his hands were stained red.

It was a day to celebrate but Chuuya couldn't fathom the happiness the others felt at his first successive kill. He had to leave. He had to escape. So, he ran back to the motel room the first opportunity he got and he spent the next two hours burning his skin under a hot shower and wasting all the soap in trying to clean the red from his hands. But no matter what he did, he couldn't erase it. Couldn't wash the stink and the stickiness away. That red clung to his skin as if that person's soul haunted him for what he had done.

His hands trembled, or maybe it was his entire body. He didn't know. He wanted to cry but the shock and disgust and the urge to scream all warred within him that no tears were able to be shed. So he just sat there, on the floor next to the single bed, staring at his hands. He couldn't look away from them, didn't want to look away. Afraid that looking away would dismiss the act that he had committed. That it would devalue a human's life even if that human was rotten to the core.

He didn't know how long he had stayed there but before he knew it, the sun was rising and the red light was washed out. The only thing left were his clean palms.

Just like that.

--

Chuuya peeled a hand away from hugging his knees to stare down at them. Without his gloves on, they were the same as back then, clean and devoid of any blood. But he knew better.

The guy he managed to track down went down easily enough. It was easy to set his death up like a suicide. So wracked with guilt about putting an innocent man in critical care that he ended up hanging himself. Too late to be saved before the cops descended on him to arrest him for the drunken hit and run. He only hated that he couldn't have made a mess out of him, for Dazai.

For Oda.

It's been a whole week since Oda got out of critical care. Ango and Kunikida have been taking turns watching over the kids, with Dazai helping out whenever he wasn't by Oda's side at the hospital. The first 3 days, it took both him and Ango to drag Dazai out of the hospital room in order for Chuuya to take him home to sleep. It became easier to convince Dazai to leave once Oda woke up to tell him himself.

True to Chuuya's prediction, the first meal Oda asked for was curry. Thankfully, the nurse scheduled was able to dissuade him from breaking doctor's orders. From then on, all the nurses assigned to him had to keep an eye on the visitors to make sure none of them brought in contraband food. They kept a very strong eye on Ango, much to the man’s chagrin.

Despite the emergency surgery Oda had to go under, he escaped the crash with internal abdominal injuries, a broken arm and leg, bruised ribs and a heavy concussion. He would have to undergo physical therapy once his arm and leg healed, but the doctors were hopeful that there wouldn't be any lasting damage. Chuuya was glad. He didn’t know how he would have handled Dazai if there had been lasting damage. The scars and disabilities reminders about how they both had failed to protect family.

The noise from the shitty TV suddenly rose in volume as the characters on screen screamed at each other. He wasn't really paying attention to it, having it on as background noise. It was one of those rare days that their neighbors were away and the floor was blessedly silent. The thin walls left little to the imagination and privacy a thing to be missed. But that night, he couldn't take it. The silence. So, the TV was on.

It helped to distract his raging nerves and anxiousness. But it could only help for so long. Flipping through the limited channels, nothing caught his attention that he could fully immerse himself in. Even the game system he and Dazai scrimped and saved up for, for a joint Christmas present to themselves (and to be honest, the kids for when they visited), didn't seem enticing. He sat there, watching the over acted drama play out on the small screen. By the time the protagonist was making her exit, he had fully chewed his thumb nail down to the skin.

His partner was still visiting Oda and would probably stay there until the nurses kicked him out after visiting hours were over. Maybe he had time to go out and buy some cheap wine before Dazai came back. He had finished his stock yesterday, using liquid courage to help him finish his plan. Perhaps he could get drunk and go to bed early, forget about today and not worry about tomorrow. He means, Dazai knew he was planning something like this right? Chuuya wasn't part of the goody-goody two shoes agency so he didn't have to feel guilty over what Dazai would think. If anything, he knew almost exactly what Dazai would think. That wasn’t the problem. No. What was the problem was that he killed when he didn't have to. He killed when he promised Oda that he wouldn't become a killer like the rest of the gang. He killed when he knew for a fact that Oda wouldn't have wanted him to kill the guy that ran into him. He would have wanted Chuuya to leave it to the police and let the justice system get justice for him.

But he had promised Dazai first. He had promised himself first. That he would do anything in his power and position to keep the two of them safe from the shadows of the underworld. He stayed in the Port Mafia to thwart any and all future attempts at the two traitors should they become a target again. He stayed to keep an eye on other organizations that might deem the agency an enemy.

Dazai might argue that Chuuya was doing exactly what he was supposed to do. Nothing more and nothing less. Chuuya would be deeply inclined to agree with his partner.

Still. What was done, was done and Chuuya had to live with that for the rest of his life. He was prepared to carry that burden. Maybe he could coerce Dazai into keeping this fact a secret between them. What's one more amongst many?

His other thumb nail was gone now too. His spiraling thoughts had taken him out of the false calm he had acquired from the mindless reality TV he had settled on. He was fidgety. Angsty. He couldn't quite stop the bouncing of his leg as he stared hard at the grainy screen. God, if only he had a cigarette to chew on…

"I'm home!" Chuuya strangled a curse. He let it loose anyway once he saw the blood beading up on his thumb.

Dazai stood in the genkan, brown eyes focused on him as he removed his shoes. Chuuya ignored him, sticking his thumb in his mouth to suck the blood away. He made a face at the metallic flavor that coated his tongue. He didn’t think he had bitten so hard.

"Chuuya's not going to say 'Welcome home'?" Dazai whined, hefting the takeout bag onto the coffee table. "Even after I went out of my way to bring him food?" He directed a pout at the redhead, hoping for some sympathy.

"Welcome home, asshole." Chuuya grumbled, rummaging through the food containers to sort out their own. It was Dazai’s turn to pick up food anyways, so he got no pity from him.

"Hm."

It was Chinese that night. Peeking into each of the cartons, he found sesame chicken, pork fried rice, white rice, kung pao beef, egg rolls and some lin yueng bau. He claimed the fried rice, kung poa and lin yueng bau for himself, pushing the rest to the other side of him for Dazai. He dug in.

"Chuuya." Dazai called, still standing from the spot beside the couch.

He grunted, mouth stuffed with spicy kung pao and eyes glued to the TV. He knew that tone of voice. He was the ‘we need to have a serious talk’ voice because they were doing that now. Talking. No more secrets between them, they had decided. He was going to try to waylay the inevitable but Dazai hadn’t been known as the Demon Prodigy for nothing.

"Chuuya." Dazai called again, reaching a hand out to turn the red heads face towards him.

Chuuya swallowed down his food, lips pulling down into a frown. "What."

Dazai stared at him intently, getting that furrow between his brows when he was displeased with something. The look made Chuuya bristle. A callus free thumb swiped the splattering of sauce off of puffy lips. A pink tongue couldn't help but dart out and lick the digit. Appalled at his own tongue, Chuuya ripped his chin away from Dazai's soft hands.

"What?" He asked again, annoyed.

"What's wrong with Chuuya." And wasn't that a loaded question.

"Nothing's wrong with me. Sit down and eat already." He took his own advice and went back to eating.

Dazai sat down, but didn't make any moves to eat. He was still staring at Chuuya and Chuuya had no doubt in his mind that Dazai was figuring things out. He always did. He was the only person in the whole world who understood him to his core and he him in return. So he knew that Dazai was gearing up to have a serious talk, but honesty? Chuuya didn't want to have it. Yeah, he knew he would have to discuss this at some point, but not right now. Not tonight. His refusal to look at Dazai signified that.

The slender hand reached out again, this time, grabbing for the takeout carton. Chuuya made a noise a protest, but ultimately had to let it go if he didn't want the beef and bell pepper to fall from his chopsticks. He watched as the container was set back onto the table with the rest of the food. He slowly ate the rest from his chopsticks to prolong the conversation.

"You killed someone." Dazai stated, not asked. Because he knew. Chuuya didn't have to ask how he came to that conclusion. Dazai's seen him plenty of times after missions where he was forced to kill someone in self-defense and Chuuya was exhibiting those habits right in front of him. "Who was it?"

"No one you know." His leg started bouncing again. ‘When had it stopped?’

"Liar."

Chuuya glared. "It's true! It's not someone you know." Technically it was true. Dazai didn't know that guy's name. Chuuya didn't know either but to-ma-to, to-mah-to.

"But I know of them. You're more…keyed up than usual. That only happens when it's someone we have in common." A light seemed to go off in his head. "It was that guy."

"What guy?" His heart beat faster. He knew.

"The one that hit Oda." One look at Chuuya's face confirmed his answer. He smirked lightly. "I'm right."

"Whatever." He mumbled, reaching for the food.

Dazai stopped him. Chuuya groaned, leaning back into the couch.

"How did you do it?" Chuuya didn't like the look that infiltrated those brown eyes. ‘He shouldn’t have those thoughts’ he remembered thinking once. More than once because old habits die hard, and yes it was a habit. Until Dazai taught himself better, he knew the other would still be having them. And hadn’t that been the part of the reason he had stayed in the Port Mafia in the first place? To protect the both of them but also to help foster that new outlook on life; that life was worth something more than the pain and suffering of others at your hands.

Discussing this situation was going to be hard without bringing Dazai’s bloodlust back out from wherever it was buried. But Dazai had agreed to Chuuya’s terms of handling the guy himself, so it was a start.

"No. We are not going to talk about this. I'm not going to tell you how."

"I can always look it up." He threatened.

"Not if I ask you not too. And not if you want to keep this just between us." Chuuya fired back.

"Are you?"

"What? Going to ask you not to look it up?" Dazai nodded.

Chuuya remained silent, thinking about his answer. He wanted to say yes. Keep everything buried deep down under, and he knew that Dazai would take his request seriously. But that's how things ruined. It would fester and fester until it was eating him up inside. Until there was nothing else left inside him. Didn't they say the best thing for a wound to heal was to let it breathe?

Letting Dazai look up the information saved him from having to say everything out loud. And wasn't he just a right coward for thinking it in actuality.

He wasn't a coward.

"No. No I'm not." And Dazai smiled at him, pleased. They've come a long way into their relationship. "But I am asking that you not do it right away. I'll tell you. Later. Just…not right now, okay?"

"Okay." Dazai slid the hand that was holding Chuuya's arm, down until he was holding Chuuya's hand in his own. He gave the smaller one a reassuring squeeze. "That’s all I ask."

Chuuya silently nodded.

"Are you still hungry?" Their food was probably already cold.

"Not that much, no." He lost most of his appetite at the mention of his heinous deed.

The leg that was not curled up on the couch supporting their hands was still bouncing. It stilled briefly at the heavy sigh that escaped from Dazai. The other's hand left his for a moment, fishing in his back pocket for something. Chuuya silently missed the warmth.

Dazai pulled out an unfamiliar packet of cigarettes. He shook one out, gripping it with his mouth and pulling before shaking another out and offering it to Chuuya. It strangely reminded Chuuya of the morning in front of the hospital.

‘A lot of things are.’

Curiously, he took the cigarette, holding it up to his nose to sniff it. There was a fruity scent about it, different from the spice and tobacco from their usual. Seeing the question on his partner's face, Dazai told him, "They're new. The company just came out with them a month ago; fruit flavors. That one's strawberry." The painted ring underneath the filter was red. Looking over, Dazai's was yellow. Lemon.

Dazai pulled out a lighter and lit his, taking a deep breath to get the smoke going. The scent of lemons surrounded them as smoke escaped those parted lips. Intrigued and impatient, Chuuya leaned forward with his own cigarette tucked between his lips, pressing the tip against the smoldering end of Dazai's.

He didn't notice the deep inhale from Dazai, or the widening of his brown eyes. Instead, he focused on keeping the tips pressed together, trying to light his own. After a few seconds, the cigarette started catching. He moved back a little to see if it was enough when his eyes caught Dazai's. Blue eyes took in the heated look that covered Dazai's face.

The scents of lemon mixed with strawberry wafted into their noses as Chuuya's started burning. Slowly, Dazai reached out to pluck the stick from Chuuya's mouth and his own before crashing his lips onto the shorter.

Chuuya could have sworn he heard Dazai mutter into his mouth, "Beautiful" as he returned the kiss.

The kissing didn't last long and the strawberry stick was shoved back into his mouth. Rolling his eyes, he took a drag, tasting the flavor on his tongue. It was tart from the taste of Dazai and lemon, and Chuuya couldn't bring himself to hate it.

"I like the strawberry." He said at last, taking another taste.

He felt a weight on his left side as Dazai tipped over, resting his head on Chuuya's shoulder.

"Hm, I like the lemon." Dazai smiled, releasing the smoke in Chuuya's face.

"It's sour like you, no wonder." The redhead teased.

"And you're red, your point?"

Chuuya rolled his eyes. "Shut up, shitty mackerel."

They spent the rest of the evening bickering and watching trash TV, cuddled into each other. They didn't talk about the drunk driver again that night, thankfully. When they crawled into bed around 2 in the morning Chuuya felt like himself again. He peeled his hands away from Dazai's back to look at them once more. They were clean. Sighing, he cuddled Dazai closer to himself, burying his face into fluffy brown hair. There will always be blood on his hands, whether they were clean or not, but he had Dazai there to help with the burden of it. That was all he could ask for.

The distant sound of sirens, filtered faintly into their bedroom.

[dapper-ships-herself]

First kisses aren't always so sweet

I know I said the next thing I was going to write would be one of those two scenarios I posted about, but then this came to me last night and I wrote it in a fury, so that's where we're at.

A Gilahara (Chuuya and ADA! Gillian) piece.

Warning from some description of violence and blood, if that bothers ya.

---------

Dust stuck to Chuuya’s lungs, the jacket sleeve he held to his face doing little to keep it out. Rubble crumbled beneath his shoes, glass crunching with each step.

“Damn.” He cursed. He didn’t know where anyone else was right now, all he knew was that thing and its handlers had sure done a number on this place.

A colossus, summoned and brought to life by that damn Mary Shelley and her cult of freaks. What a mess.

He heard a cough up ahead, and his head snapped in its direction. A figure could just barely be seen through the haze. Instinctively, his body went into a ready stance, poised to launch himself at the potential enemy. It was only as they drew closer that he realized who it was, and he instantly relaxed.

Gillian, with her fluffy, brown hair matted with dirt, and black smudged along her face and clothes, the cloth also ripped in some places. Despite that, despite their surroundings and the obvious hell she’d just been through, when she saw him at the same moment he registered her, she smiled. “Hey Chu-tan, fancy meeting you here.” Her voice sounded hoarse from the dust in the air, but it still sounded like music to him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His question was rough, but in actuality he was so relieved to see her he felt like he could just run right to her and crush her against himself. His feet stay rooted though, because that relief is mixed in with the absolute terror of realizing she’s here, where that thing is still lurking somewhere.

“Same as you,” She says “I’m trying to fix this.”

He grits his teeth. “No offense, Gillian, but I just watched what it’s capable of; there’s no way you can beat it.” So get away from it.

“I won’t know unless I try. And does that mean you’re gonna stop it? Because you seem to be no better off than I am right now.”

It was true he’d seen better days. His own body was covered practically head to toe in grime, his suit ripped and covered in flecks of blood that had mixed with the dirt to form a gross muck. Still, he stood straight, hopping down from the raised bunch of concrete he’d been on to stride towards her. “What’s your plan, then, huh? How are you going to stop it? Your voice? I doubt even your ability is enough to calm that thing down.”

“Look at what it did to this place; imagine what it’ll do to the city if it’s not taken care of here.”

He stopped mere inches from her, his eyes boring into hers. He saw fear deep within the blue, but it was wrapped in a thick iron determination that didn’t falter even under his hard stare. It wasn’t that he thought she was weak, he knew the strength hidden in her small body, knew the force of nature her voice could be. Thinking about her going against that thing, though; even she… “It’ll crush you.”

“What’s your plan, then? Do you even have one?” She crossed her arms defiantly, her gaze not leaving his once.

His scowl deepened. He had an idea, all right, but it was stupid. He’d been mulling over his options just before she’d shown up. He knew how extreme the situation was, but the consequences just didn’t seem worth it. There was certainly some other way to stop that thing from reaching the city, something that wouldn’t come at such a great cost to himself. That was before he knew she was here. Here, in this place and ready to throw herself in its path if it meant saving even one person. A rumble in the distance reached them.

“My ability,” he started. He saw her expression shift with the change in his voice, confusion blossoming at the flat acceptance it’d taken on, all anger and frustration drained away in a second. He seemed calm. “has another aspect to it. A true form, capable of crushing an opponent in seconds, leaving nothing in my way. All I need to do is let lose all my inhibitions and I will be unstoppable. It’ll be more than enough to stop her Frankenstein.”

“What?” She whispered “If you have something like that, then why…” some realization sparked in her eyes, and they widened slightly. “What does it cost you? Moves like that always cost something. My own scream leaves me emotionless and robotic for hours, what does this true form do to you?”

“It’s called corruption, and that lack of inhibition means that once I activate it I can’t stop it. Corruption will keep fighting even after everything around me is crumbled, and it’ll sap away my strength until it uses me up entirely.”

“No… No, how could you ever use such a dangerous ability if it destroys you? There’s no way- Dazai. You and him used to be partners, didn’t you? His ability would stop yours before it could do permanent damage.”

“That’s right.” He nodded watching her work it out.

“But he’s miles from here! He’s back in the city, we have no way to even contact him if there was a way he could get here in time!” the fear buried in her eyes was starting to leak out, as she realized what Chuuya had already decided. “You can’t.” Her whispered voice broke, and then the panic made it rise again. “If you do that then you’ll-“

His hand came up to grip the back of her head, pulling her towards him at the same time he surged forward. He kissed her, deep and rushed, pouring more words than he could ever say into the action. The open palm of his other hand rested on her back, helping to push her body further into his. He wanted to feel as much of her as he could while he had the chance. He was acutely aware of her own hands wrapping around him to grab at his shoulders, and of the tears he could taste mixing with the flavor of her lips. Who did they belong to?

He made himself pull back, and only allowed himself a moment to rest his forehead against hers, before pulling away. His coat whipped up around him as he turned his back and walked quickly away from her.

“Chu-tan. Chu-tan, wait!” She called behind him. He refused to look, even as he heard her footsteps trying to catch up.

His ability activated around him, and with a single leap he was far above the ground, heading in the direction of the noise the thing made.

“Chuuya!” She screamed, raw and loud. It still sounded like sweet music to him, as it faded into the distance.

------

The earth was shattered beneath him. Cracked and splattered with gore. Pieces of that thing littered the ground, its blood mingling with that of the people who’d controlled it.

He loved it.

Manic giggles peeled from his throat. With each wild swing of his arms, more balls of dark energy flew from his palms and tore apart his surroundings.

This was bliss. Pure carnage, unobstructed chaos, ruin beneath his feet. He threw his head back and full on cackled. Blood flew from his lips into the air.

---

Her feet pounded against the ground, desperate pants sounding from her as she ran.

---

A spray of dust flew into his face. Not that it mattered. Stone cracked and blew away at his touch, and he laughed at it, his wide eyes not really seeing it. All he cared about was destruction, all he saw was red.

---

She stumbled, and her palm was sliced by a sharp chunk of rock. She payed it no attention, not stopping in her race.

---

He threw another black ball, stumbling forward from the momentum, nearly falling over before catching himself. His arms hung limp before him. His laughter didn’t stop, but it was heavy now.

---

She could hear the rumbling so close now, a random crashing that shook the ground and made her steps unsteady.

---

Blood trickled from his eyes like crimson tears. It came from his nose, from his mouth, from his ears, turning his face into a red mess.

---

She could see him. He stood hunched over in the midst of his wreckage, rippling with energy and a crazed look in his eyes. Angry red and black lines covered his skin like great wounds cracking him apart.

Gillian pushed forward, skidding over scattered rock, jumping over the deep fissures marring the ground. He was still so far away.

She couldn’t help it; his name flew from her lips in a desperate cry. “Chuuya!”

His head swiveled to face her. His smile twitched for a moment, before spreading even wider than before. Finally, something new and whole he could break.

He was in front of her in a blur, his bare hands snatching her by the neck in the same second and lifting her from the ground. She gave a strangled cry as her windpipe was crushed.

“Ch-Chuu-ya…” She forced out. He squeezed harder.

She strained to look down at him, into his crazed eyes that watched her struggle with glee. His fingers dug into her throat, bruising the skin.

Still though, still her eyes softened from fear to utter gentleness. “Chu…-tan. I know… you’re still there.”

Her shaking hand came up to rest against his pale cheek. She reached deep within herself, grabbing hold of every bit of power she could muster in that state, and poured it all into her command. “Come back, Chu-tan, please.”

He shuddered, the silvery purple aura coming from Gillian washing over his body. His grip loosened slightly, and her breathing became easier. With more breath, her voice became stronger, and she spoke again. Her voice echoing and ethereal, ringing through the open space.

“I know you can do it, Chu-tan. You are not lost to this power. Do you hear me? Turn off corruption, come back.” Her soothing voice flooded him, clashing against the chaos within him, mixing and roiling. The darkness raged, rearing and spitting and clawing, but the light just embraced it. The marks on his skin started to flake off and drift away in wisps of smoke. He stumbled forward, her feet thumping back to the floor, his grip on her neck a weak squeeze. Her other hand cupped his face as well, her thumbs wiping away the new clear tears cutting a path through the blood.

“Come back to me.” She said. With the grip on her throat gone, her power ripped through the sourness she could feel and made her voice come out strong and sure.

His legs buckled, and he fell forward, taking both of them to the ground. The marks of corruption faded and flew away, his eyes losing their wild energy and falling closed as the exhaustion immediately lulled him to sleep before he’d even finished falling.

Gillian landed on her butt, and caught Chuuya against herself, his head resting against her chest. She gasped for breath, her mouth tasted of iron and her throat was raw and pained from a combination of being choked and forcing so much power out like that. The will of corruption was strong, she could feel the mindless chaos fighting back against her, but there was no way she was going to have submitted to it. Not when it was threatening to take Chuuya.

She looked down at the dirty mop of hair she could see and closed her eyes in relief, a few tears squeezing out. She wrapped her arms around his slumbering form and buried her face against his hair, not caring that he smelled like grime and ruin. “It’s alright now, Chu-tan. We’re both alright.” Despite everything, despite the pain she was in, she smiled, warm and real.