Chuuya hated himself for how much he loved him. Every time he saw Dazai like this- vulnerable and stripped of the careless, arrogant persona he'd constructed for himself- Chuuya was reminded of the Dazai he'd known before. This Dazai, he knew, was for his eyes only.

Chuuya was sat up on the bed, running his fingers through Dazai's hair as he murmured fitfully in his sleep. The light of morning was streaming through the window and hitting the wall just behind him. Chuuya watched their shadows, still and silent. They were, he thought, the very picture of everything he'd ever wanted- an honest and straightforward depiction of two lovers sleeping in on a relaxing morning, simply basking in each other's presence and feeling the soft comfort of skin on skin as the sun came up on another morning they would share together.

From looking at the shadows on the wall there was no evidence of Dazai's restlessness as he was stricken with yet another nightmare Chuuya couldn't save him from; there was no evidence of Chuuya's countless cuts and bruises, scars and trauma from a lifetime of conflict and having to fight to survive. There was no evidence of the life they had lived and were still living, or of everything that separated them and ensured that they stayed separated.

How unfair, Chuuya thought, that the inanimate shadows on a bedroom wall had it better than he did.

FOUR HOURS LATER

"What should I do with him, boss?"

Dazai was in his office- a large, airy room with windows stretching across the walls and unlit candles strewn around the edges of the room, accompanied with small pools of hardened wax attaching them firmly to the ground. Dazai was sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the vast dark-stained wood desk, rifling through some paperwork with a pen sticking out of his mouth.

He barely glanced up at the sweating subordinate stood by the door as he replied with the pen still in his mouth.

The subordinate blinked nervously. "Wh- I'm sorry, sir, I didn't quite…"

"I said leave him with me!"

"Right, of course. Sorry," he stammered, letting go of the squirming teenage boy he'd been gripping onto and turning to leave, "boss. Sorry, boss," he added hastily.

He left the office and shut the door carefully behind him. Outside another low-ranking mafia member had been waiting, peering discreetly into the rarely-seen office of the young boss.

"Boss," the mafioso scoffed. "Half our age, and acts like it."

"Shut it. You'll be shot for talking like that." He paused. "Isn't it awful, though?" he hissed under his breath, glancing around uncomfortably as they walked down the stairs.

"Disrespectful to Mori-san's memory."

"There were daifuku wrappers all over the floor." They turned a corner and he cut himself off suddenly and coughed, eyeing his companion very deliberately. "Still, you must admit. For his age, his accomplishments… they're impressive."

The other man scowled. "Doesn't mean I have to like him."

"Shh..."

"Dissent among the ranks?" an amused voice in front of them asked suddenly, making the second man jump.

"Not all, Chuuya-san. I was just… I didn't mean…"

Chuuya smirked as he pushed past them and carried on to the stairs, leaving the pair of subordinates stammering and stuttering behind him.

Back in the office, Dazai was warily eyeing the younger boy in front of him, who was glowering murderously out of the window at the overcast Yokohama sky.

"Now," Dazai muttered, "what to do with you."

Akutagawa, still staring fixedly out the window, thrust his hands into his pockets. "Can we just get this over with, Dazai-san?"

Dazai looked at him curiously. "Get what over with?"

"I disobeyed your direct orders…"

"You're right. You did exactly what I told you not to do, and you went rogue. Again. And now what? You're stood here expecting me to hit you, or humiliate you, right?"

Akutagawa turned to look at him but said nothing.

"In that case you obviously haven't learnt your lesson," Dazai said, standing up slowly, "from the last time." He walked over to Akutagawa until they were only inches apart. He continued speaking calmly and quietly, looking straight at Akutagawa so he couldn't turn his head. "So, what to do with you?" Then, suddenly, Dazai turned away again and marched over to his desk, collapsed into the seat behind it and rested his elbows on the wood, balancing his chin on his interlocked fingers. "I should have you killed. You're more trouble than you're worth to this organisation."

"I may have gone rogue, Dazai-san, but ultimately it was of benefit to the Port Mafia. I found the traitor, and I stopped more information from leaking out!" Akutagawa interjected, starting to glow with indignation.

"I thought that, perhaps, there was a chance you could become strong," Dazai continued, ignoring Akutagawa completely, "but I realise now I was wrong. You're nothing but a waste of-"

There was a loud knock on the door.

Without waiting for Dazai to say anything, Chuuya entered. Dazai looked over at him, then back to Akutagawa. "We'll finish this later," he said with a slightly annoyed expression.

Chuuya looked at Akutagawa with a note of sympathy as he stormed out, angry but breathing a sigh of slight relief.

"Nice to know where your priorities lie," Chuuya grinned. He glanced after Akutagawa, then closed the door with a loud thud. "You're way to hard on that kid."

"What's it got to do with you? What do you want, anyway?"

"They hate you, Dazai. They hate that you're in charge." Chuuya walked across the room and stood by the window, kicking a candle violently against the wall as he did so. "What is all this junk, anyway?"

"Candles, for ambiance," Dazai stated matter-of-factly. He begun to spin in his office chair as he spoke, propelling himself using the desk. "You see, for the perfect suicide, atmosphere is important. Therefore, I decided on candles for dramatic lighting."

"Ah yes, so you can take everyone else with you by burning the entire goddamn building down. Good idea." Chuuya picked up the broken candle he had kicked and inspected the pieces as he spoke, so he could avoid looking at Dazai. "Those subordinates of yours were complaining about the mess in here, by the way," he added, picking at the wax.

"Chuuya, what do you want?"

Growling, Chuuya threw the pieces of candle at the floor. "You're not seriously doing this, are you?"

"Doing what?" Dazai asked innocently, still spinning in his chair.

"Doing what? Doing this! Playing at being the boss, acting like you're in charge of everyone all the time! It's not right!" Chuuya shouted, stepping on one of the segments of candle and grinding the wax into the floor with his foot.

"But Chuuya, I am the boss. I'm only acting like I'm in charge because I am in charge. Mori-san even put it in his will, that I was to succeed him. There really is no other way for me to- ow!"

Dazai flinched as Chuuya threw a candle at him and it hit him on the side of his face, before rolling off his desk and onto the floor. "What was that for?"

"Ugh! What do you think?"

Dazai picked up a pen from his desk and threw it at Chuuya. It bounced uselessly off his shoulder.

"I really hate you sometimes, you know," Dazai muttered.

(He didn't, though, and that infuriated him. Often, Dazai would be working and he'd catch himself thinking of Chuuya, of his stupid face flushing with anger, or pleasure, or both, and he'd have to forcibly think of something else before he got caught up in the memories of the nights they had shared, a scandalous secret that even he didn't quite understand the nature of).

"Yeah, well, I can't stand you either, Shitty Dazai," Chuuya snarled.

(Though that, too, wasn't true at all. All day Chuuya had been thinking about that morning, when he'd been longing for a simpler life where they could exist together as real, normal people, while Dazai had slept in his lap. Sometimes Chuuya couldn't believe the Dazai he knew so intimately- the Dazai he loved- was the same person as the bastard who had somehow ended up running the goddamn Port Mafia).

"Glad we're on the same page then," Dazai mumbled.

For a minute they both stood there looking a little sad, until Chuuya sighed and walked towards Dazai. He sat on the edge of the desk and looked at Dazai for a minute, wondering what it was specifically about him that made Chuuya unable to just stay away like he so desperately needed to.

He needed to stay away; he just really didn't want to.

"Dazai, this isn't right. You being in charge- it's not good for the Port Mafia, and it isn't good for you!"

Dazai looked up at Chuuya (which in itself was unusual) with an unreadable look. "Neither are you," he replied quietly.

Chuuya didn't know how to reply to that, and so sat there on Dazai's desk for a few minutes in silence; finally he stood up and walked out, his feet crunching on discarded daifuku wrappers as he left.