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“Alright, that’s it for today. I’ll see you all on Thursday.” 

The sound of rustling papers and closing laptops echoed through the lecture hall as the students packed up while the professor stood behind the podium, rifling through his messenger bag and pulling out a stack of papers. 

Higuchi, from where she sat near the front of the classroom, could hear gaggles of students gushing about him as they passed. 

Professor Nakahara Chuuya was something of a celebrity at Bungo University. He was a bit of a mystery to everyone since he was notoriously secretive about his personal life, but students knew at least two things about him for certain. 

Number one: at just twenty-two years old, Nakahara Chuuya was one of the most important physicists alive today, receiving critical acclaim for his groundbreaking research on gravity as well as a slew of awards. He was a thinker, constantly asking questions that no one else bothered with. It was what made him such a brilliant scientist and a fantastic professor. Who wouldn’t want to learn from a certified genius?

Number two: Nakahara Chuuya was beautiful. 

There wasn’t a single soul on campus who wasn’t at least the tiniest bit in love with him. His mane of curly red hair was a rarity in a place like Yokohama—it demanded attention. His eyes were the stuff of legends, blue like the sky and sharp, too. Most students had trouble keeping eye contact with him because of it. He had lean muscle and a sluttier waist than any man should be allowed to have, and he was always impeccably dressed. 

What more could a student ask for in a professor? He made the nightmare that was physics a digestible topic, and that was a feat unlike any other. 

Higuchi Ichiyou, a suffering STEM student herself, has taken multiple classes from Chuuya during the past two years and swore by his teaching. 

“I hate physics!” she had exclaimed one afternoon during lunch, just months after arriving at Bungo University. “But he makes it fun. Physics. It’s a miracle, I swear.” 

“You’ve got a point, actually,” Tachihara had replied with a mouth full of food. “It’s weird.” 

Akutagawa bobbed his head and muttered: “He’s unusually calm for a physicist.” 

“I dunno, I’ve seen him chew out a kid or two and it was not pretty.” Higuchi shuddered. “And he’s always yelling at Dazai, too, so there’s that.” 

Gin had stayed silent throughout this particular conversation, but they all knew that she held a special fondness for Chuuya just like the rest of them. It wasn’t common for educators to take time for the quieter students, but that changed in his classroom. 

In her Mechanisms of Gravity class, Higuchi sat near the front because it was always too damn dark to see properly in the room, so it took her a little while to make it out of the classroom. She was just pulling all her things together when someone sauntered in, and half the students who were still in class looked up to see none other than Dazai Osamu hanging all over Chuuya’s desk, trademark smirk on his face. 

Alright, so perhaps there was a third thing the students at Bungo University knew about Chuuya. 

He hated Dazai Osamu. 

The Literature professor was no slouch himself, having published several successful books to worldwide critical acclaim. His unique writing style—sharp nihilism balanced with a witty sense of humor—appealed to people across all genres. His teaching methods were a bit more eccentric than Chuuya’s, but most people Higuchi knew liked his classes. She hadn’t taken any, but she’d heard that he was a fun professor to have. Secretive about himself, just like Chuuya, but fun. 

All she really knew about him for certain was that he knew how to push Chuuya’s buttons like no one else. 

“That hat is even tackier than the last! Where on Earth do you find these? Your grandmother’s attic?” 

“Your hair looks like a bird’s nest, asshole,” Chuuya snapped, slamming a stack of papers down on his desk.

“I didn’t realize you paid so much attention to my hair, slug.” 

“It’s a fucking eyesore.” 

“Come now, we both know that isn’t true.” 

“I’m going to wring your neck—“ 

“Chuuya!” Dazai gasped, clutching his chest as if he were physically wounded. “Not in front of the children!” 

Chuuya gave him a death glare in return. “Get out of my classroom.” 

“Are you sure you don’t—“

“Get. The fuck. Out.” 

“I’ll see you for lunch!” Dazai chirped, already halfway out of the classroom by now. The students didn’t pay much attention to this exchange as they continued to pack up their things. Dazai torturing Chuuya was as common as a blue sky. 

“Thanks, Nakahara,” Higuchi told her professor as she passed the podium, bag slung over her shoulder while he continued to rifle through his stack of papers. He seemed to be having trouble separating them. 

Chuuya looked up to return the smile. Higuchi was pretty sure he said something, but she didn’t have a clue what it was when she saw his left hand.  

His exposed left hand.  

Now, it was no secret that Professor Nakahara Chuuya wore gloves. Most people had no idea what was under them—he only taught so many classes a semester and none of his students had a plausible case for what he was hiding. Scars? Disfiguration? Tattoos? Bionic fingers? Missing fingers? There were hundreds of theories circulating campus and no two were the same. 

Of all the possibilities, though, Higuchi would have never suspected a wedding ring.

“Higuchi? Did you need something?”

She blinked rapidly, shaking her head and snapping herself out of her daze. Chuuya was giving her a funny look, but she tried to collect herself. “Sorry, just got distracted,” she said, pasting on what she hoped was a convincing smile. ”See you on Thursday, sir.” 

Chuuya gave her a respectful nod, pulling his glove back on just as quickly as it had come off. There was barely enough time for her to check whether she’d been hallucinating. 

The moment she got out of class, Higuchi made a beeline for the little coffee shop inside the University Center. She and Tachihara had started meeting there to study at the beginning of the year, but they had really just become gossip sessions. 

As usual, Tachihara was already waiting at their table, scrolling through his phone with a steaming cup of coffee that was probably more sugar than actual coffee. When he saw her, he pocketed his phone and grinned, leaning forward as she sat down. 

She narrowed her eyes. “What?” It was suspicious that he was smiling at her like that before she had even said anything. 

“You have your ‘I have mind-blowing news’ face on,” he replied, still grinning. 

Higuchi frowned. “I don’t have an ‘I have mind-blowing news’ face.” 

He snorted. “Okay, sure. What’s the news?” 

“So,” she began immediately, ignoring his smug smile as she leaned forward. “I was just in Mechanisms of Gravity and while I was walking by his podium thing, Nakahara—“

“Oh my god, did someone finally ask him out?” Tachihara cut in with eyes blown wide. 

“Even better,” she replied, lowering her voice, and Tachihara’s eyes widened further. “He was having trouble with some documents, so he pulled off one of his gloves.” 

Tachihara’s mouth fell open. “Holy shit,” he cursed far too loud for Higuchi’s liking. “He’s part robot, isn’t he? I told Gin he was part robot but she didn’t believe me and—“

“Shut up,” she snapped, slapping her hand over his mouth for good measure. “I don’t want the entire student body hearing about this yet.” 

“Why not? That’s, like, the biggest mystery at Bungo and you’re just gonna—“

“It’s not solved yet,” she cut in. Tachihara’s brow furrowed and she leaned in closer, wary of all the passing students as she took in a breath. “It was his left glove. He wears a wedding ring.” 

“A wedding ring?” Tachihara practically shouted, drawing the attention of every single person in the coffee shop. 

Higuchi slapped her hand over her eyes and groaned. 

“Sorry, sorry. But seriously, are you sure you didn’t imagine it or something? You said it was only for a second, right, so maybe—“

“Hi, idiots,” came a gravelly voice from behind them, and the pair turned to find the Akutagawa siblings pulling up chairs, looking vampirish as ever. (But Akutagawa was more like a sickly Victorian vampire in Higuchi’s opinion. Gin’s vampirishness was more of a haunting-song-echoing-through-an-abandonded-castle-at-midnight sort of beauty). 

“Higuchi says Nakahara’s married,” Tachihara blurted. 

“Michizou!” she hissed, slapping his shoulder. “That’s my gossip to tell.” 

“Sorry, I tried not to say anything.” 

“Nakahara?” Akutagawa frowned. “I didn’t think scientists had time for that.”

“Anyone can make time for love,” was Gin’s soft reply. 

Tachihara leaned forward, looking like he was about to deliver the most thoughtful insight on the plight of humanity that anyone had ever heard. 

What came out of his mouth instead was the next best thing. “I don’t think you guys realize how serious this is,” he said lowly. ”Nakahara Chuuya, married? Hello? The dude’s, like, the school’s heartthrob. What would happen to all those poor souls if they found out he was off-limits?” 

Gin pulled down her mask to take a sip of her coffee. “He should be off-limits anyway, he’s our professor.” 

“Try telling literally anyone else that and see how far you get.” 

“Oh, hey you guys!” 

Higuchi had a feeling their table was going to become a bit too small. 

The group turned around at the sound of the familiar voice and found Atushi, Kyouka, Kenji, and the Tanizaki siblings bounding toward them, all with varying degrees of happiness on their faces. 

Higuchi immediately smiled. “Hey, what’s up?” 

“Kyouka wanted something sweet and we ran into the others on our way here,” Atsushi explained. “You look like you’re talking about something serious.” 

“Nakahara—“

Higuchi slapped her hand over Tachihara's mouth. “Will you stop stealing my thunder?” 

“Sorry,” was the muffled reply, just before he licked her hand. She yelped, wiping her palm on his shirt with a disgusted look on her face. 

“Listen, what I’m about to tell you is classified. You breathe a word about this to anyone and I will make you regret it,” Higuchi hissed, earning furious nods from everyone. “Okay, good. Grab some chairs.” 

There were now far too many people at the table for everyone to be comfortable, but it didn’t matter when Higuchi lowered her voice and said: “Nakahara’s married.” 

The group had a variety of different reactions. Everyone was surprised on some level, but only some of them seemed to realize that this mystery wasn’t solved just yet. Atsushi, for example, furrowed his brows and asked: “To who?”

“That’s the problem,” Tachihara replied gravely. “We don’t know.” 

“But how are we gonna figure it out? She could be anyone!” 

“Stop asking the obvious questions and think of a solution, weretiger,” Akutagawa cut in, narrowing his eyes at Atsushi. The rest of them ignored the obvious gay tension and moved on. 

“What if we just asked him?” proposed Kenji. 

Higuchi shook her head. “Nakahara keeps his personal life on total lockdown. There’s a reason he wears those gloves all the time.” 

“What about asking one of his coworkers or something?” Atsushi batted Akutagawa’s hand away from where he was examining his bangs. “One of them is bound to know her, right?”

The table went silent. “That’s… not half bad,” Tachihara said, blinking. They would have to find someone who spent lots of time with Chuuya, but who also wouldn’t rat them out to him. This person would need to be reliable, discreet, and a major gossip. 

Higuchi grinned. She knew just the person. 

***

No one ever knew where Dr. Yosano Akiko was at any given time. She had an office, of course, but everyone knew that she was hardly there. She taught various classes in the science building and had her own lab for course preparations, but she also spent lots of time at the Student Health Center. Occasionally, she was also out of the country accepting awards for more groundbreaking information she had discovered. 

Luckily, it only took the group about twenty minutes of investigation to find her. After asking around at the science building, they were eventually pointed to a little room near the back of the Student Health Center. Higuchi led the group, pushing open the door to find two people lounging on a large desk. 

Higuchi cleared her throat. “Dr. Yosano?” 

The woman in question turned, brows arching at the sight of eight students standing in the doorway. When she did, the group could see the person she was speaking to, seated atop her desk and sucking on a lollipop. Ranpo Edogawa was one of the Criminology professors who could frequently be seen with Yosano. The pair were the biggest gossips on campus by a long shot.

“Well, don’t just stand there.” The corners of Yosano’s lips quirked upward as they all shuffled inside, sporting various looks of confusion or nervousness. It was understandable; Yosano, while being nearly as renowned as Chuuya for her medicinal discoveries, was also known for her suspicious experiments. No one wanted to end up being her next lab rat. 

“Is this a bad time, Doctor? We don’t want to intrude,” Atushi began, polite as always. 

Yosano chuckled at that. “You aren’t bothering us. Did you need something?” 

Next to her, Ranpo’s grin widened. 

“We—uh—well—“

Akutagawa hit Atsushi on the back of the head. “Spit it out.” 

“We came to ask about Nakahara,” Kyouka cut in, surprising the rest of the group. They supposed it made sense, though, since Yosano and Chuuya’s older sister, Kouyou, had been married for quite some time. It only made sense that she and Kyouka would be familiar. 

Yosano arched a brow, looking unimpressed, if not downright disappointed. “Really? You came here for gossip?” 

They all froze. 

Immediately, her expression melted into something amused and she let out a loud laugh. “No need to look like you’re being sent to the chopping block! I’m just screwing with you, you came to the right person.” She leaned back in her chair, spinning a scalpel with suspicious stains on it between her fingers. ”What do you want to know?”

Higuchi opened and closed her mouth at least four times before Tachihara took it upon himself to step in. “We saw Nakahara’s wedding ring,” he stated plainly, earning himself a whack on the back of his head from Gin. 

Yosano’s brows shot up, but Ranpo didn’t look the least bit surprised. “So you’re here to ask me who he’s married to,” she concluded. 

Tachihara nodded. 

Yosano glanced over at Ranpo, and they seemed to have a silent conversation for a few moments while the group stood awkwardly and watched them. Eventually, after a few minutes of stifling silence, Yosano turned back to face them. “I hate to say this, kids, but that’s not really for me to say.” 

Their faces fell immediately and she chuckled. Just as they were all turning around to leave, though, Ranpo’s voice caught their attention. “He’s a lot closer than you’d think,” he said with a knowing grin, popping the lollipop back into his mouth. 

All of them paused. 

What?

“What are you just standing there for? You’ve got a case to solve, get out of here,” Yosano cut in with a smile, waving them away. Her voice snapped the group from their trance and they left the room in a daze, making their way outside and only stopping when they were out of earshot of any little groups of students lounging in the grass. 

“‘Closer than we think?’ What’s that supposed to mean?” Tachihara huffed, clearly dissatisfied with their information so far. 

Atsushi frowned. “Maybe he meant a coworker? What if it’s someone else who works on campus?”

“Well, Ranpo did say ‘he.’” Tanizaki shrugged. “At least that narrows down the possibilities.” 

They all paused at that. 

After a moment of silence, Gin spoke. “It makes sense.” 

“No straight man would ever have a haircut like that,” Higuchi agreed. 

They all nodded and moved on. 

“The weretiger is right,” Akutagawa said, earning a look of surprise from Atsushi. “Perhaps Ranpo meant a coworker.” 

“Another professor, maybe?”

“But who else does he talk to besides Yosano?” 

Kyouka had an idea, but she decided to keep it to herself for now. 

“I see him talking to that blond math professor sometimes,” Akutagawa mused. “The one with the ponytail.” 

“Oh, Kunikida?” Tachihara frowned, fist to his chin. “I dunno, that’d make an odd pairing.” 

Atsushi perked up. “They both have a short fuse, though—that counts for something, right?” 

“That’s true.” 

“Let’s go ask him, then!” Kenji exclaimed and immediately began skipping away, leaving the rest of the group to watch him go with the same look of disbelief on their faces. 

***

“You want to know who Nakahara’s spouse is?” Kunikida’s brow was furrowed in confusion as he stared at the gaggle of wide-eyed students standing in the doorway of his office. 

They nodded. 

He let out a sigh, removing his glasses for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Who your professors are married to is none of your business.” 

“But sir,” Tachihara pleaded. Of all of them, he and Higuchi had taken most of Kunikida’s classes, so they were elected to be the spokespeople of the group for now. “This is important! If you care about your students at all, you have to tell us.”

Kunikida gave him an unimpressed look. “That’s not going to work on me, Tachihara.” 

Tachihara visibly deflated. 

“Sir,” Higuchi cut in, stepping up in place of her defeated comrade. “We already know that he’s married. If you don’t tell us, we’ll just figure it out on our own. You wouldn’t want your beloved students getting in trouble, would you?” 

Kunikida’s frown deepened if such a thing were possible. “I cannot condone digging into the private lives of your educators,” he stated with a tone of finality. 

Higuchi sighed. “But sir—“

“Oh, Kunikida! I have a message for you from our esteemed President!” 

The singsong voice caught everyone’s attention, and they all turned to the door just in time to see a head of unruly brown hair come into view, followed neatly by its head and body. 

“He wanted me to ask—oh, goodness. I didn’t realize you were so popular today.” 

Dazai Osamu stood in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his signature trench coat as he blinked big brown eyes at the crowd in Kunikida’s office. 

Kunikida sighed. “They won’t be here long. What did the President need from me?” 

“He hoped you could meet him for coffee this afternoon around four, but that’s not important. What are all of you doing in here?” He surveyed the group, an easy smile on his face. 

Higuchi scowled. “We’re failing to threaten Kunikida.” 

Dazai’s eyes widened. For a moment, the students thought he might have been surprised or even upset, but then his smile widened into a far less innocent grin. “Is that so? I happen to be an expert, you know, and I’m happy to offer you a few pointers.” 

“Dazai,” Kunikida snapped. “Don’t encourage them.” 

“What kind of educator would I be if I didn’t? So, what are you hoping to get from him?” 

He sighed and shook his head, shutting his eyes for a moment. “They can tell you all about it after you all leave my office.” 

Dazai gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Are you kicking us out?” 

“Yes!” Kunikida snapped, standing up and shooing them through the doorway. “Get out!” 

“Best not to speak to him for a little while,” Dazai told them as they all made their way out of the building. He let the group lead the way, and they somehow ended up in the lounge area on the first floor of the English building—a common hangout for students of all majors. “So, what were you so eager to get out of our dear Kunikida?” Dazai asked the students. They had all slumped into the plush chairs and couches, looking various degrees of defeated. 

“One of the biggest secrets at this damn school,” Higuchi grumbled. 

The rest of them nodded and ignored Atsushi and Akutagawa, who were pushing each other back and forth on the loveseat. They had no other options; Yosano didn’t give them any leads, Ranpo was just as cryptic as always, and Kunikida threw them out of his office before they could try anything else on him. 

“Really? Must be quite the secret, then,” Dazai mused. 

Tachihara groaned. “It is.” 

A stiff silence filled the room after that as the students wallowed in their self-pity. There was no hope, not even a little bit. They solved one of the greatest mysteries at Bungo University, but they didn’t even get to savor it when another one immediately took its place. They were at a complete, utter dead end. 

Of all people, it was Kyouka who broke the silence. “We’re trying to figure out who Nakahara’s husband is,” she said softly. 

Dazai’s eyes widened imperceptibly and the corners of his lips twitched. “Is that so?” he asked. 

She nodded. 

“And you didn’t think to ask me about this?” 

All of their heads whipped to face Dazai, who was looking very pleased with himself. Akutagawa narrowed his eyes. “You and Nakahara hate each other,” he deadpanned. 

Dazai grinned. “Of course. But I’ve known that little hatrack since we were fifteen years old.” 

Tachihara’s mouth fell open, not unlike everyone else in the room. “What?” he exclaimed. They all gaped. “You’ve known each other for all that time?” 

“Goodness, it hasn’t been that long. You’re acting like I’m an old man!” 

“How did you not know that?” Tachihara asked Higuchi, who could only shrug. He turned back to Dazai. “So you know his husband, then, right?” 

Dazai grinned. “I attended the wedding, so yes, I suppose you could say that.” 

They all stared at him for a few moments of silence. 

Before any of them could say anything, though, Dazai suddenly got a strange look on his face as his eyes caught on something behind them. The students turned around to see someone walking toward them, and as the person got closer, they realized that there was only one person in this school with hair as red as that. 

“Speak of the devil,” Dazai breathed. 

“Jeez, I’ve been looking for you everywhere, idiot,” Chuuya said, shaking his head. He seemed to take stock of the students, too, and frowned. “What are all of you doing here?” 

The students gaped. What were they supposed to say? Just asking your coworker/number one enemy about the love life you refuse to talk about. How’s your day been? 

Luckily, before any of them could say something stupid, Dazai swooped in to save the day. “We were just gossiping,” he answered with a cheeky grin. 

Chuuya narrowed his eyes. “That so?” 

Dazai’s expression didn’t waver. It was truly impressive, since most of the students could barely hold eye contact with Chuuya for more than a few seconds. “Would you like to join us? The students were just asking about my coworkers’ love lives.”

Chuuya surveyed the students, none of whom could meet his gaze. He returned his attention to Dazai and arched a brow. 

Dazai grinned in return, just for a moment before waving a hand, the perfect portrait of nonchalance. “You said you were looking for me?” 

The students listened to this exchange with bated breath. When would they start insulting each other? Shouting? Throwing fists, even (on Chuuya’s end)? The anticipation was thick in the air. 

Chuuya nodded, walking toward the chair Dazai sat in and perching on the arm. The students were openly gaping now. “I’m not sure what to make for dinner. Any requests?” 

What.  

Dazai hummed. “That’s a very silly question.” 

The faintest ghost of a smile touched Chuuya’s lips. “I know.” 

By now, the students were starting to wonder if they were having a collective hallucination. Higuchi, a truly brave soul, raised her voice. “Uh, what’s going on?” 

Both professors looked at her with innocent expressions. “What do you mean?” Dazai asked. 

Higuchi pointed an accusing finger at the two of them. “You two should be threatening to hang each other by now and it’s really weird that you aren’t!” 

Dazai turned to look up at Chuuya with a knowing smile. “Did you hear that, Chuuya? Should I threaten to hang you?” 

Chuuya chuckled, but there was something about it that sounded vaguely threatening. “Be my guest.” 

“Wait a minute, don’t you guys hate each other?” Tachihara added, frowning. He hadn’t taken any classes with Dazai, but everyone knew about their rivalry. This was weird. 

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely,” Chuuya answered immediately, earning a pouty look from Dazai. 

“Then what’s with you guys talking about dinner and stuff? Shouldn’t you be—I dunno—shouting at each other? Throwing things?”

Higuchi nodded because she’d witnessed both of these things happen on multiple occasions and was starting to feel uncomfortable. 

Chuuya snorted at that but said nothing. 

Atushi, from where he and Akutagawa had finally accepted their fate on the loveseat, felt the realization dawning on him. His eyes widened as he stared at the two professors, head going white. “Wait a minute…” 

Dazai’s answering grin said it all. He wrapped an arm around Chuuya’s waist with one hand, pulling him close. With the other, he reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a silver chain, hanging on which was the exact same ring on Chuuya’s hand, now gloveless and utterly exposed to the group. 

“Well, children,” Dazai said with cruel amusement written all over his face, “meet Nakahara Chuuya’s husband.” 

Silence. 

Dazai’s words buzzed in the air between him, Chuuya, and the shocked students. All they could do was stare, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at two of Bungo University’s finest geniuses and greatest rivals. 

Married.  

No one said anything for approximately twenty-three seconds. 

Then, the room erupted. 

“You’re Nakahara’s husband?” 

“I thought you two hated each other!” 

“What kind of marriage is that?” 

“Are you two insane?” 

“Why do you two throw pens at each others’ eyes then?” 

“Jesus fuck!” 

“That was an interesting turn of events.” 

“Shut up with your Victorian vampire talk, Akutagawa.” 

“I’m gonna pass out.” 

“You two are some sick bastards.” 

“What?”

Dazai and Chuuya watched the students try to make sense of their shattered sense of reality with matching grins, wide and toothy and utterly unsympathetic. 

Of course, neither of them answered any further questions. While the students clutched each other for dear life and shouted about their worlds being blown to bits, the pair calmly got up from the chair and walked out of the building unnoticed, rings glittering in the dying afternoon sunlight. 

***

“I can’t believe you,” Chuuya snorted as he kicked open their apartment door, shedding his coat and hat as he kicked off his shoes. “Those poor kids won’t know what to do with themselves.” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it too,” Dazai said with a wide smile, hanging up his trench coat. 

Chuuya chuckled at that, but he didn’t refute it. He shucked off the rest of his layers instead until he was left only in his slacks and button-down, which he unbuttoned at the collar. He plopped himself on their kitchen counter, leaning back and letting out a deep sigh. 

Dazai, also free of most of his layers, meant to go do something. Chuuya didn’t care what it was. Just as he passed, Chuuya reached out to grip his bolo tie and drag him toward him, pressing their lips together in a slow, less-than-chaste kiss. 

Dazai seemed surprised by this but far from bothered. He let out a low sound when Chuuya wound his ungloved fingers into Dazai’s hair, tugging on it with enough force to drag another needy groan out of him. Their exploration of each other was languid as their hands and lips wandered. 

Chuuya savored the feeling of Dazai’s skin beneath his fingertips, savored the thought that he was the only one allowed to do this. He pulled away to begin peppering kisses across Dazai’s jaw, leaving flowering little marks in his wake. 

Only he could see Dazai this way, hair mussed and lips kiss-swollen. It was a selfish thought, but Chuuya couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Eventually, they pulled apart and Chuuya admired his handiwork. Dazai’s breathing was unsteady, his heartbeat far quicker than it had been earlier. 

“What was that for?” he asked breathlessly. 

Chuuya grinned and leaned forward, kissing him again. “You’re an idiot,” was all he said. 

Dazai chuckled at that. They watched each other for a moment, basking in the evening sun and the rare quiet in the house. After a minute or two, Dazai reached up to brush his fingertips over Chuuya’s jaw. “I hope I didn’t upset you today,” he murmured, looking thoughtful. 

Chuuya frowned. “Upset me?” 

“With the students. I know you like to keep things private.” 

He considered that for a moment. Chuuya took great care to keep his personal life separate from work, that was true. He liked having things to himself, things that were untouched by the thoughts and feelings of others. 

But that didn’t matter. So long as he had this, stolen kisses and crab dinners and coming home at the end of the day, none of it mattered. 

Chuuya leaned forward and pressed another kiss to Dazai’s lips. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “I just want you.” 

Dazai’s chuckle was low and breathy. “You know you have me.” 

Really, Chuuya should be starting dinner before they both regretted it. He didn’t get the chance, though, when Dazai swept him off the counter in one smooth maneuver, carrying him down the hallway and toward the bedroom. Chuuya slapped his chest, and Dazai grinned, and they were both laughing like they were eighteen again, young and stupid and just as drunk on love as they were now.