Chapter Text
The path to Chuuya's shelter wasn’t long, but it was certainly prolonged by a few minutes due to Chuuya glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, ensuring that Dazai was still following him and hadn’t accidentally bumped into a tree or any of the other obstacles the forest surrounding them had to offer. It would probably have been easier to guide the blind man by the hand, but that kind of physical contact, even for those few minutes, was something Chuuya definitely wasn’t ready for. At this point, he wasn’t sure if he ever would be.
As they neared the entrance, Chuuya turned to look back. Dazai had stopped by one of the statues—a warrior, frozen in stone, one of the many who, like those before and after him, had come with the intention of defeating the monster Chuuya had become. Dazai’s slim hands were tracing the shapes of the sculpture’s stone face, which had already been painted by Chuuya long ago. The pale hair and golden armor of the fallen man gleamed vividly in the midday sun, around the statue's neck hung a garland of dried purple hyacinths.
"This feels pretty," Dazai remarked. "Seems like you’re quite talented."
"Talented?" Chuuya asked, not fully understanding what Dazai meant. It wasn’t like he could see the colours that Chuuya had put on the once gray statue.
"You’re a sculptor, aren’t you? Or is this someone else’s work?"
Oh. If only Dazai knew the true story behind the existence of those marble statues.
"No," Chuuya denied. "I’m not a sculptor."
"Ah, so it’s not your doing." Dazai sighed.
"It is," Chuuya blurted out. God damn it. He was only making this conversation more and more complicated.
"How come?" Dazai asked, visibly intrigued, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"It's a long story. You wouldn't believe me anyway."
"Trust me, I've experienced enough in this world to believe the unbelievable. And I think we have all the time in the world, Chuuya. I'm not planning on going anywhere," he said, his smile growing wider.
"That I can see," Chuuya huffed, lightly kicking Dazai's leg as a signal for him to keep walking.
He lifted the floral vines hanging at the entrance to the cave, which served as a makeshift barrier against the wind on colder days and added a touch of aesthetic to the surroundings. Dazai followed closely behind, squinting as his face brushed directly into the green foliage.
"You could’ve warned me," he complained, his voice echoing distinctly off the stone walls.
"Don’t be dramatic," Chuuya muttered, setting down a vase filled with water that he had been carrying in a corner of the room. "Anyway, this is what I call home. It’s not really big and definitely not the most comfortable place, but considering I’m letting you stay here for free, you shouldn’t complain."
Chuuya watched in silence for a moment as Dazai ran his slender hand along the walls, likely trying to feel and visualize his new surroundings as best as he could.
“There’s not much in here,” said Chuuya, partly to break the silence between them and partly to assist Dazai in imagining his surroundings. “Mostly supplies, some fruits and water stored against the wall, a few paints. There’s something I call a bed, just some fabric and feathers I managed to gather. Uh, the walls are painted and carved with patterns in some places.” Chuuya tried to describe everything his eyes could capture.
“Cozy,” Dazai commented with a smile. “I like the smell. It reminds me of a meadow I used to visit as a child. There were tons of flowers, and I’d always come back stung by bees.”
“They don’t sting unless provoked,” Chuuya said.
“Well, I couldn’t exactly see where I was going. Might’ve accidentally stepped on one or two,” joked Dazai, continuing to trace with his fingers along the curved wall, his slim hand still attempting to gather as much information as it could from the cold stone.
“Let that be your excuse,” Chuuya huffed. “But yeah, there are a lot of flowers here. And in the garden outside, we passed through it. My mother was a florist. I… guess I got that from her,” Chuuya added, cutting himself off before too much slipped from his lips.
Dazai’s hand stopped suddenly when it encountered a distinct section of the stone wall, etched with hundreds of small, carefully carved vertical lines arranged in rows. Chuuya treated it as his calendar—since he’d been cursed and exiled to live in solitude, and the cave had become his new home, he’d marked each passing day with a small line on the wall.
“What’s that?” Dazai asked, his fingers gliding from one groove to the next.
“It’s so I don’t lose track of time,” Chuuya explained. “Each mark means one day.”
“That’s a lot of days here, then,” Dazai murmured.
Definitely too many .
“It is what it is.”
“Counting from any specific moment?” Dazai asked. The question might have seemed casual, but there was a weird hint of seriousness in it the tone.
Chuuya was starting to hate how perceptive this man was, even without his sight.
“Since I left my hometown,” he replied, trying his best to sound indifferent. But his voice still carried a hint of sorrow—an undertone he couldn’t shake and likely never would.
“You don’t sound like that was something you did willingly,” Dazai observed.
"Not everyone here is some foolish runaway," Chuuya retorted, his words coming out harsher than he intended.
Dazai’s hand stopped, but his lips remained in a faint, quiet smile. Yet in his milky-white eyes, Chuuya could see something that could resemble nostalgia—or perhaps even regret.
"Ouch. I'm hurt," Dazai replied sarcastically after a moment. Chuuya noticed that it took him a second longer to come up with the retort than it had before.
One of the snakes on Chuuya’s head hissed loudly, making him raise a hand to calm the creature down.
"You take those things everywhere with you?" Dazai asked, his hands finally leaving the wall and crossing over his chest.
"You could say that."
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"It’s part of a story you wouldn’t believe," Chuuya shrugged. "Water?" he asked, taking out a small clay bowl and pouring some of the liquid from a larger vase.
"Wouldn’t hurt," Dazai replied.
Chuuya raised the small vessel to his lips, taking a few sips before handing it to Dazai. For a moment, their hands brushed against each other, the coldness of Dazai’s skin meeting Chuuya’s warm palm and making him immediately retreat his hand.
They sat on the stone floor of the cave, occasionally passing the bowl back and forth. There was so much to say, so many questions to ask, yet Chuuya found himself not wanting to break the silence, at least for a short while. Just to let that moment of peace, even if only illusionary, last for a bit longer.
For the first time in two years, silence felt comfortable.
"So, you live here alone?" Dazai prompted after a few minutes, handing Chuuya the now nearly empty bowl.
"Yeah," Chuuya said, his voice carrying a faint trace of melancholy. "I told you, it’s not exactly a well-traveled area."
"Oh yeah," Dazai agreed. "There are rumors, though—about only one creature living around here. A monster with snakes as its symbol and the power to turn people to stone at will."
The sound of shattering echoed through the cave as the clay bowl slipped from Chuuya’s hands, breaking into dozens of tiny fragments. The crash felt louder than it should have, shards of glass spinning for a moment before falling flat on the floor, welcoming back the now uneasy silence.
"So you knew," Chuuya said quietly, his voice barely more than a hiss. He stood up instinctively, towering over Dazai, who remained as calm as he had been moments earlier.
Of course. How could he have been so foolish? Another trap. Another cruel joke disguised as someone who might fill the emptiness in his heart—the void left by the absence of his family, his friends, his home. Another mockery of his curse. Another blow to his already shattered trust.
Chuuya pulled a dagger from his pocket, pointing it straight at Dazai. The whistle of the blade slicing through the air was surely impossible for the blind man’s heightened hearing to miss.
"How I hate when people jump to conclusions," Dazai sighed, sounding entirely unbothered by the weapon aimed at him.
"Get out of here before I slit your throat," Chuuya said, his voice shaky. Every ounce of his being strained to keep his voice from trembling, but the fury and disbelief were heavy in his chest, making it hard to breathe.
"Sure, I can leave and let you rot here by yourself for a few more years," Dazai said nonchalantly. "Or you could listen to me."
"I don’t give a damn about what you have to say!" Chuuya yelled. "You heard about me from who knows where, came here with some hero complex to slay me, pretended to be an ally, and now think you’ve got it all figured out. You’re just like every other one before you." His voice cracked slightly at the end.
"I’ll agree with the first part," Dazai said, "but I’m not a liar, Chuuya. At least, not right now. I did run away from home, and yes, I did intend to find you."
"How do people even—"
"Know about you? Our beloved Athena isn’t exactly known for keeping her mouth shut, Chuuya. She spread the rumor about you months ago."
Chuuya felt his hand holding the dagger begin to shake with rage and helplessness. He had long accepted that the goddess, even after cursing him, wouldn’t make his life simple or easy—but Dazai’s words were a painful confirmation of that reality.
"Although," Dazai continued, "I think she was wrong about one thing. I’m starting to doubt if there was ever any monster to begin with."
"You’re pathetic," Chuuya hissed. "What is this, some weak attempt at comforting me? You don’t know what I’ve done. You have no right to assume who I am or who I’m not!"
"I'm not assuming anything, I'm just observing," Dazai shrugged. "But you know, the more you try to convince yourself you’re a monster, the more likely you are to become one."
"Spare me the shitty advice," Chuuya retorted.
Chuuya had never been good at understanding his own emotions. But now, the conflict between throwing Dazai far beyond his threshold and the absolute, horrifying yearning for the simple presence of another person was almost unbearable.
“If you're not here to kill me.” Chuuya said, clenching his fists. “Then why? Curiosity? Boredom? If it's any of that, you're pathetic.”
"Partially, it probably is," Dazai admitted. "Both of those are human traits one can easily rid themselves of, even if one no longer considers themselves human."
"Partially," Chuuya repeated, silently urging Dazai to reveal more.
"Well, the main reason was quite the literal opposite. I didn’t come to kill you; I came because I wanted you to kill me."
Chuuya's eyes widened. At this point, such a response from Dazai shouldn’t have surprised him—the blind man had hinted at his suicidal tendencies more than once, yet, it still didn’t make sense to Chuuya. Why would Dazai go through all the trouble of traveling here, following a mere rumor about a monster who might not even exist, when there were so many more accessible ways to end his life?
"I don’t like pain," Dazai continued before Chuuya could even form a reply, "So, I’ve been searching for the most painless way to go. Turning into a beautiful marble statue in a span of a second seems like a good idea, don’t you think?" he paused for a moment, resting his cheek on his palm, his expression turning contemplative, melancholic almost. “However, our dear Athena forgot to mention that it only happens through sight. And, well, uhm. That’s not exactly my strong suit. So, the offer is off the table now."
"That’s not even an offer," Chuuya snapped. "You just wanted something, with nothing to give in return."
“That’s a small detail,” Dazai replied casually.
“So what?” Chuuya shot back, the realization that Dazai no longer needed him suddenly hitting him. “You don’t want anything from me. Are you going back to wherever you came from?”
“I didn’t particularly plan on it, no,” Dazai replied, his expression suddenly somber.
“Why? I’m no use to you,” Chuuya scoffed, glad that Dazai couldn’t see how his muscles instantly tensed at the mere thought of being alone again.
“Not everything has to be about benefit, Chuuya.”
“Cut the bullshit. You just don’t have anywhere else to go, do you?”
Dazai gave a weak smile, leaning back against the cold rock of the cave, blinking for a second longer than necessary. He didn’t reply. The silence was enough of an answer.
Chuuya sighed, crossing his arms as he sat on the opposite side of the cave, putting the dagger beside him, but within reach, as his eyes scanned over Dazai’s figure. The blind man’s unseeing eyes stared blankly ahead, and a soft melody of gentle humming began to escape his lips.
Though it wasn’t obvious to the naked eye, the truth was that both of them needed something from each other. For Chuuya, it was as simple as the basic human need for companionship—no matter how unbearable and annoying that companion might be. It was something he had yearned for every day over the past two years. Dazai’s motivation was a mystery, but it was more than clear that, for some reason, he didn’t want to return to his hometown. Chuuya promised himself he’d get the reason out of him, no matter what.
“And what? Just because you’re a suicidal, damn mess, you think— you think you have the right to step into someone else’s life and make it their problem?” Chuuya clenched his fist. It wasn’t just anger anymore; it was something deeper, something he had been pushing back into the darkest corners of his mind for far too long now, threatening to finally surface.
“I don’t think I do,” Dazai replied calmly. “But you can give it to me. Or not. It’s your choice.”
“Don’t pity me, Dazai!” Chuuya snapped. “What are you, some insecure fool with the intention of fixing everyone you—”
“I’m not even sure if I can be fixed myself,” Dazai interrupted. “And sure as hell, I’m not intending on fixing you. There’s no point in changing something that’s not broken.”
Chuuya had never in his life felt so confused. Hurt? Of course. Angry? More times than he could count. But never so torn between what seemed right and rational, and what was wanted by his…
Heart? No. Something as sophisticated as that wouldn’t suit him.
“Fine,” he said finally, his voice echoing against the cave walls. “Stay for today, then I’ll think. I don’t care, as long as you’re not a complete burden.”
Dazai’s milky-white eyes shifted toward Chuuya. Though slightly off-target, it was clear the blind man was doing his best to locate Chuuya’s face by sound.
“See? I knew we’d get along.”
A quiet, bitter chuckle escaped Chuuya’s lips.
“Yeah. As if.”
The first day after meeting Dazai seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, faster than any minute had ever felt for the past two years.
Dazai was the kind of person who physically could not shut up. They had spent the entire day either sitting in the cave or wandering around Chuuya’s garden, and Chuuya was genuinely amazed that Dazai’s throat wasn’t sore yet.
Especially with all the questions.
"Where did you live before?"
"Did you plant all these flowers yourself?"
"Who are the people in the statues?"
"Has anyone else ever lived with you here before me?"
Chuuya answered maybe half of them. At best.
But his guard was still up—it had become instinctual at this point. At this point, trying to lower it would take more effort than constantly staying on high alert, which had become a default for him. Especially now, around his strange, new companion.
There was something about Dazai that Chuuya just couldn’t place. Maybe it was because he hadn’t spoken to another human being in two years. Maybe. But deep down, Chuuya knew it wasn’t just that.
Between the jokes, the stupid questions, the sarcastic comments—beneath the charming, playful facade—there was something unsettling about Dazai. Like another person was hiding underneath, buried deep beneath this carefully constructed persona.
Chuuya had learned to expect the worst from people. It was easier that way—no matter how promising or alluring the surface might seem. And he promised himself, was going to see through Dazai. But for now, with the other’s intentions unclear, he had to be careful.
Dazai’s blindness was more than obvious. The guy had bumped into more things than Chuuya could count, wandered in the wrong direction, or lost track of Chuuya entirely whenever he got a few meters too far. But with trust as shattered as Chuuya’s, he was skeptical—paranoid, even—enough to question the other’s disability.
As they sat in the cave facing each other, Chuuya quietly lifted his hand and held it just millimeters from Dazai’s nose, expecting a blink, a flinch—some kind of reaction.
He got nothing.
Instead, Dazai smirked.
"I really am blind. I lie a lot, but that is, very unfortunately, true."
Chuuya immediately pulled his hand back, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping onto his cheeks. If Dazai really couldn’t see, then how the hell...?
"Then how did you—see? Well, feel—" He struggled to find the right words.
"Warmth." Dazai said simply. "Your hand is warm, and I could feel the heat radiating onto my face. When you lose one sense, the others tend to sharpen."
Chuuya nodded, forgetting for a moment that was a reaction Dazai could not quite grasp.
"I see," he quickly said instead, the words slipping out before he could even think. Amazing work, Chuuya. You’re doing great.
Dazai just chuckled, lifting a hand to his lips as a smile found its way onto his face, his eyes squinting slightly.
"Well, yeah, you do," He laughed.
"Oh, shut it,” Chuuya muttered, standing up. “I’ll go put out the fire. Don’t want us burning to death overnight.”
Dazai feigned deep thought, placing a hand on his chin.
“Yeah, fair. That would be too painful. But at least we’d burn together, right? A double suicide, Chuuya! Isn’t that a great idea?” His milky-white eyes seemed to brighten slightly.
Chuuya just scoffed, unsure whether to laugh or be genuinely concerned. This guy was something else.
“How are you even still alive?”
“Told you, I just haven’t found the right way yet.”
“Well, with how you bump into everything and how utterly helpless you are, I wouldn’t be surprised if you died even without meaning to,” Chuuya retorted.
"But I want to, and I can’t," Dazai pouted.
"Yeah, go cry about it."
"I will!" Dazai's yell managed to reach Chuuya's ears just before he stepped out of the cave, grabbing a bucket of water on his way.
The flames from the fire, which they had earlier used to heat water for herbal tea—over the past few months Chuuya’s usual drink for both warm and chilly evenings—had already started to die down on their own. It only took a small splash of water for the fire to fully extinguish with a sharp hiss, leaving behind a wisp of smoke and a pile of charred wood and dry twigs.
He looked into the dying flames, watching the sparks rise into the warm summer air, reflecting in his eyes. One of the snakes, Lavender, gently wrapped itself around his neck, nuzzling its small head into his skin. Chuuya stroked it lightly, letting out a sigh.
“What the hell should I do?” he whispered, his voice so quiet that not even Dazai’s sharp hearing could pick it up from inside the cave.
The snakes only hissed in unison—at least, the ones that were still awake. A few had already dozed off. Chuuya smiled when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Plumeria and Lotus tangled together, almost like two people holding each other. He wished he could ever feel that again without disgust creeping in—a wish that seemed unlikely to ever come true.
He glanced over his shoulder at the entrance of the cave, where Dazai still was. What if he was just now stealing Chuuya’s supplies? Or setting up a trap, waiting to strike the moment Chuuya returned? What if—
He shook his head, pressing a palm to his forehead and looking up at the stars. How did it come to this?
It felt like his trust had shattered that day on the temple floor, crushed underfoot and scattered into a million pieces. And the thought that he might never, ever be able to rebuild it terrified him.
He could chase Dazai away. That would be the easy choice. Just like that, everything would go back to how it was yesterday—and every day before that for the past two years. One day wasn’t enough to get attached, right? He’d fall back into his old routine in a matter of hours.
Or, he could choose the risk. He could let Dazai stay. He could defy whatever the gods had planned for him. He could push down his internal conflict and tangled emotions even further and just… see.
He didn’t know which option was worse .
He stared blankly ahead at the trees, shrouded in darkness, stretching endlessly before him, as if the answer would suddenly appear out of nowhere, magically revealing itself in golden, glowing letters, spelling out words of wisdom.
To no one's surprise, nothing happened.
With a sigh, he lowered his gaze, kicking a few stones out of his path as he made his way back to the cave, pushing aside the vines that covered the entrance.
He was going to kick Dazai out. The man's presence could bring nothing but trouble, so it was better to do it now rather than later. After all, it was the gods' will for Chuuya to be alone, and he knew better than anyone that he wasn’t someone who could afford to defy them.
He stepped into the cave and parted his lips, ready to force out the painful, frustrating words that would send Dazai away. But before he could utter even one, he stopped.
It seemed Dazai could shut off his endless chatter and boundless energy just as fast as he could dive back into it. In the short time that Chuuya had been outside, Dazai had already fallen into a deep, blissful sleep, half-sprawled across Chuuya’s makeshift bed.
Chuuya’s first instinct was to wake him up—after all, who did Dazai think he was, sleeping in his place on the very day they had just met?
But then he stopped himself. First, he didn’t want to touch Dazai and couldn’t think of another way to wake him up other than shaking his shoulders. Yelling would take too much effort. Second, the other had been wandering for hours since early morning and definitely needed rest.
Not that Chuuya cared about that. No, of course not. It was just the fact that a sleep-deprived Dazai would probably be even more insufferable than the normal Dazai.
Chuuya sat down a few meters away, leaning against the cave wall, his gaze still focused on the man lying on the floor. Dazai’s chest rose and fell in a slow, peaceful rhythm, and his eyes were closed—something Chuuya hadn’t seen him do before for longer than it took to blink.
He scoffed under his breath as he caught himself wanting to drape something heavier than his light robe over Dazai’s slightly trembling shoulders. It was a familiar instinct, something ingrained in him from the past. He had done it for his mother, after long exhausting days when she came home weary from working—whether he was seven, eleven, or sixteen, he would always prepare her a quick meal and then lead her straight to bed, covering her with a warm woolen blanket. He had done the same for Yumeno, placing his outer robe over the stubborn kid’s shoulders when they insisted on staying in the temple until the cold evening. It was something he had always done for people he cared about.
He shook his head and pushed the thoughts away. He did not care about Dazai. They had only just met and Chuuya was here to make the other one leave. Not give him any more reason to stay.
Quietly, he walked over to one of the wicker baskets lying nearby and took out his spare robe, carelessly draping it over Dazai’s sleeping figure.
Chuuya needed to talk to Dazai. Before it was too late.
But that could wait until morning.
Chuuya was used to waking up early—despite living alone, with no obligations beyond survival and whatever the hell he wanted to do, the habit of rising with the first rays of sunlight filtering through the curtain of vines at the cave entrance had stubbornly remained with him.
He rubbed his eyes, forcing himself into a sitting position, only to feel a sharp pain flare through his back. Right. He had slept on the floor.
And there he was—Dazai, sprawled out as if he belonged there, looking almost annoyingly comfortable, snoring softly, ruining Chuuya’s perfectly routine morning.
Chuuya had hesitated last night, convincing himself that morning would make things easier. That after a night’s sleep, the decision to send Dazai away would be clearer, more resolute. That it was just the darkness of the night, the melancholic glow of the stars, that had made him second-guess himself.
Turned out, now it was even worse.
One of the snakes atop Chuuya’s head shifted, nuzzling against his ear, as if sensing his unease.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “I know.”
With a huff, he stood up, walking towards the entrance of the cave. The air outside was crisp, the scent of damp earth and greenery filling his lungs as he inhaled deeply.
It didn’t take even a minute for him to hear quiet footsteps behind him.
“Morning,” Chuuya muttered, turning his head over his shoulder.
There was Dazai, with his arms crossed, which made him look unusually sheepish and defensive—or maybe that was the effect of his squinted, sleepy eyes and even more messed up hairstyle. Despite it being a lot warmer now, the robe Chuuya had covered him with the evening before, was still loosely hanging off his shoulders. Chuuya could bet Dazai would be fine without it, but he decided not to comment on it.
“Good morning,” Dazai muttered, yawning.
“How did you sleep?” Chuuya asked as Dazai stopped right in front of him. He was still impressed at how well the other could navigate without sight.
The question felt painfully awkward, but then again, it was difficult to suddenly regain the ability to hold a smooth, natural conversation after two years of isolation from the world. And the fact that Dazai still felt like a stranger, an intruder in Chuuya’s familiar space, didn’t make it any easier.
“Unusually well,” Dazai said. “I tend to wake up a lot during the night, but today I slept wonderfully,” he chuckled.
“I’m not surprised. You must’ve been exhausted after not shutting up for a moment yesterday,” Chuuya retorted.
“Hey, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” Dazai huffed. “How did you sleep then?”
Chuuya almost instinctively wanted to say ‘awful’—like it had been every night for the past two years. He couldn’t recall a single time he had slept through the night without waking up in cold sweat, shaking, with his heart hammering in his chest.
But then, as the memory of last night lingered in his mind, a sudden realization hit him. Today, he hadn’t woken up to that familiar, suffocating panic. For the first time in over two years, he had slept through the entire night peacefully. No nightmares. No frantic gasps for breath. Just simple, but long yearned for, silence. The kind of peaceful sleep he had almost forgotten was possible.
“Fine,” he said quickly, his response prepared even before Dazai asked. “Didn’t quite enjoy the cold, stone floor, though.”
Dazai shrugged, the smile never leaving his face as he knelt down, feeling for a good spot on the grass to sit.
“I got the guest treatment,” he said, settling down and resting his cheek on his palm. “I’m honoured.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Chuuya muttered. “You’re not staying here forever.”
“Aren’t I?” Dazai pouted, clearly exaggerating his disappointment. “I thought you agreed yesterday.”
“I agreed for one day, and then I said I’d think about it. Today is the second day, if you can even count.”
“I can count!” Dazai said proudly. “My father used to teach me math a few years back.”
“Really?” Chuuya said, raising a skeptical brow.
“Mhm.” Dazai absentmindedly started playing with a blade of grass, curling it between his fingers. “I can be smart if I try.”
“Well, you’re definitely not trying right now,” Chuuya scoffed. “Now get your ass up. We’re going to the orchard nearby to pick some oranges for breakfast.”
“You go. I’ll stay here,” Dazai said, stretching his arms above his head before flopping onto the grass completely, lying flat on his back.
“Oh, no way,” Chuuya said, walking over and looming over him, arms crossed. “I’m gonna make you at least slightly useful. As far as I know, being blind doesn’t stop you from carrying a damn basket.”
“But laziness does,” Dazai muttered in response, a slight smirk on his lips.
Chuuya rolled his eyes and lightly kicked him in the ribs.
He had expected to meet resistance—a normal amount of weight, even if Dazai was lanky. But the second his bare feet pressed against Dazai’s ribs, he felt just how thin the other was. Not just naturally skinny, but the kind of thinness that came from neglect.
His kick had barely any strength behind it, yet Dazai still let out a quiet grunt, shifting slightly as if he actually felt it.
“Damn,” Chuuya muttered, his voice slightly shocked. “You’re all bones.”
“You sound surprised.” Dazai hummed in response
“Yeah, because I am,” Chuuya admitted, crossing his arms. “Do you eat at all? Or do you just survive on bullshit and pure stubbornness?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Dazai smirked.
“As if. Get up or I’ll drag you by myself.” Chuuya said, turning away and going to pick up two baskets from the cave.
“You wouldn’t,” he heard Dazai’s pouty reply from the outside.
The orchard was one of Chuuya’s favorite places to go, especially now in the summer, when the leaves were at their fullest, vibrant green color, contrasting beautifully with the orange hues of the oranges and the red of the apples. And, it was the easiest way to get food, so the half-hour walk was definitely worth it.
Well, that was an opinion Dazai did not share.
“We were walking here forever.” He whined, as soon as they arrived.
“Not like we have anything better to do,” Chuuya said, picking one of the oranges and throwing it into the basket. “Besides, you slowed us down by bumping in every possible tree in the way.”
“There are too many of them here!” Dazai said.
“It’s an orchard, idiot.” Chuuya replied. “They’re supposed to be here,”
Dazai let out a dramatic sigh, dragging his feet along the ground as he walked.
"Manual labor and I were never meant to be a pair," he lamented, reaching his hand out blindly in an exaggerated manner.
Chuuya didn’t even reply, rolling his eyes. He turned his gaze to Dazai, who was blindly feeling for the closest low-hanging branch and searching with his fingers for the fruit. His movements were slow, sluggish almost, but he finally managed to find the orange and carefully pluck it out. For someone who swore he would rather be doing anything else right now, it looked like he was at least trying.
“I’m amazed,” Chuuya commented, unable to resist teasing Dazai a bit.
“Hey,” Dazai said, clearly offended. “For the first time, I did just fine.”
“First time?” Chuuya repeated, not expecting that. “Really? How did you even survive until now?”
“My family was quite rich, at least for a time,” Dazai smiled, though it was a sad smile. “I never had to worry about that as a kid. And there was no orchard near my house, and my father wouldn’t let me wander too far on my own because of… well, you know, the eyes.”
Chuuya paused for a moment, letting Dazai’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but somehow the idea of Dazai growing up sheltered made too much sense.
Freedom was another thing Chuuya had always taken for granted—at least before. Throughout his entire life in his hometown, he had no limitations. Everything he did, whether it was household chores or helping his mother with work, was of his own free will. The same applied to serving in the temple.
After he was cursed, one could say he became freer than ever. He could go anywhere, travel across half the world if he wanted to—no one was holding him back. Quite the opposite.
But he could swear, freedom never felt that bad before.
"Sounds suffocating," Chuuya muttered, reaching for another orange.
"It was," Dazai admitted, still twirling an orange between his fingers. "But it’s not that bad when you don’t know any better. I figured that was just how life was supposed to be."
“Is that why you ran away?” Chuuya asked, before he could even think.
Chuuya looked at the other, who’s unseeing gaze was stuck on the ground, his fingers still tapping slowly on the fruit in his palm.
“No,” Dazai said simply.
There was something about the way he said it that made Chuuya want to press further, to ask for more details. But he realized that would be out of place—after all, he wouldn’t share his own story with Dazai, not yet, probably not ever.
“Mhm,” Chuuya just hummed, eager to change the subject already. “Well, since you’re staying here as a freeloader, you’re at least going to help.”
He tossed another four oranges into Dazai’s basket, making the brunet’s arm lower under the new weight as he huffed in annoyance.
“Fine, fine,” Dazai said. “But maybe I could be more useful in the quality control department,” he added, bringing one of the apples to his lips.
“No,” Chuuya said, snatching the apple from Dazai’s hand and putting it back. “That’s for later.”
“No fun,” Dazai commented but didn’t argue further.
By the time they had gathered enough fruit to last at least a few days and returned to their hideout, it was already past noon. They walked back at a comfortable pace, Dazai carrying one of the baskets despite his constant complaints, while Chuuya took the other.
Once they arrived, Chuuya prepared a small meal, consisting mainly of the fruit—some carefully cut into pieces and some squeezed into juice, providing a refreshing drink for both of them. Dazai sat lazily beside him the entire time, to which Chuuya unusually didn’t oppose—no matter how much he hated his ‘I am doing nothing to help’ approach, he was definitely not trusting Dazai and his carelessness with a sharp object. So it ended with Dazai lounging nearby, making occasional remarks about Chuuya’s knife skills and receiving well-aimed orange peels in return.
After eating, the day slowed into a lazy afternoon. The summer heat made them both reluctant to move much, so they settled outside the cave, near the stream, in the place where the shade of the trees offered some relief.
Dazai dipped his feet into the water, letting the coolness soothe the warmth of the day, while Chuuya sat on a rock nearby, plucking petals from flowers he had gathered earlier from the garden and crushing them in a ceramic bowl to make paint.
For a while, they sat in a prolonged yet comfortable silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Chuuya only looked up when he felt water droplets land on his hands and saw Dazai splashing water from the stream in his direction, wearing a proud expression.
“Stop,” Chuuya said, annoyed, wiping the water off with his sleeve.
Dazai didn’t stop—in fact, he took it a step further, throwing a small rock at Chuuya.
Chuuya dodged at the last second, the pebble whizzing past his ear. A few of his snakes hissed in displeasure, making it very clear they were not happy with the situation.
“What was that for?” Chuuya snapped, irritated. For a blind man, Dazai had an annoyingly good aim.
“I don’t know. I was trying to get your attention,” Dazai said, stepping a little deeper into the stream. The water now reached his knees, soaking the lower part of his robe.
“Congrats, you did. By almost throwing a rock in my face,” Chuuya grumbled.
Dazai just laughed, tilting his head up toward the sky and closing his eyes. Chuuya watched as he tucked his hair behind his ears, probably trying to fully immerse himself in the sounds of the stream, the quiet rustling of the wind, and the distant chirping of birds.
“You know, I think I like it here,” Dazai mused after a moment.
“Of course you do,” Chuuya scoffed. “You don’t have to do anything but steal my food and sleep all day.”
“I like it because it’s peaceful,” Dazai corrected. “And you’re not the worst person I’ve ever met.”
“If that was an attempt at flattery, it was a shitty one,” Chuuya said, setting the bowl of crushed petals aside.
“You can interpret it however you like,” Dazai smirked.
“You’re an idiot. You can interpret that as an insult.”
“Thank you. I think that’s the fifth time today you’ve called me that. You should be more creative, Chuuya.”
“Oh, believe me, I could write a whole book of insults just for you.”
Dazai just laughed again. Chuuya thought it should be illegal for a human to have such a beautiful, musing laugh.
His eyes lingered on Dazai’s figure—his closed eyes, his head tilted toward the sky, his hair flowing freely, gently tousled by the wind, almost as if it was dancing. The sky had already taken on a purple-yellowish hue, reflecting in the water and casting a glow on Dazai’s hair and his pale face.
Chuuya should have kicked Dazai out yesterday. Because if the decision to do so seemed difficult back then, right now it seemed impossible.
Maybe, just maybe, he could get used to it too.
"Are they really attached to your head?"
"Get off!" Chuuya yanked Dazai’s hand away, the snakes on his scalp hissing in unison as if trying to scare away the potential danger.
"Come on, I just asked a question," Dazai rolled his eyes.
"Yes, they are," Chuuya said, shifting slightly, so he sat further away from Dazai. "Why would I lie about something like that?"
"I don’t know. I would," Dazai shrugged.
"I hate you."
"No, you don’t."
No, he didn’t .
It had been a few days since Dazai decided to stay with Chuuya—a few days that passed faster than mere minutes in the loneliness that had been previously sentenced to. It was just the time in the summer that brought warm and sunny weather, so most of their time, when they weren’t gathering supplies or when Chuuya wasn’t tending to his garden, they spent walking along the forest paths together.
Dazai was becoming more at ease in his new surroundings, as well as increasingly comfortable in Chuuya’s presence. It showed in the small gestures—in the way he would sometimes detach from the world just to take a deep breath and relax for a few moments. To shut off his mind, to lower his guard—because he knew that in case of danger, there was always someone next to him to be his eyes.
Dazai was a strange man. That much was certain.
And Chuuya was doing a shitty job in keeping his distance from him.
As they were walking through the woods, Chuuya bit into one of the apples he had gathered, savoring the familiar, sweet taste on his tongue.
"Share," Dazai whined, holding out an open hand in Chuuya's direction.
"No," Chuuya said, pulling the apple even further out of Dazai’s reach.
"Come on. Some pity for a poor blind man."
"No way. Unless you tell me why you ran away from your hometown."
Chuuya had lost count of how many times he had asked that question in the past few days. Leaving home—especially for someone with a death wish—wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence. Chuuya just knew there had to be a more serious reason behind it than a simple desire for adventure.
"So tell me how you got cursed."
Yeah. That was how it always ended. Dazai would turn the question back on Chuuya, and then there would be silence. Because there was no way in hell Chuuya was sharing his story with anyone.
"Fine, be stubborn," Chuuya huffed, moving deeper into the trees.
"I don't think you're the one to say that," Dazai laughed and paused for a moment before continuing. "It’s boring here. Let's go see the sea."
"We are not going to the sea," Chuuya said firmly, leading Dazai back toward the cave. He held back a branch so the brunet could pass freely—though the urge to let it snap back right into his face was, to say the least, strong.
"Boring," Dazai whined, his voice almost childlike in complaint. "One day, I'm just going to run away if you keep acting like this."
"Go ahead, no one's keeping you here by force."
"I'll rethink that," Dazai smirked.
Both of them knew damn well Dazai wasn't going anywhere.
Past few days, they were spending most of the time in Chuuya’s hideout, sitting outside on the soft grass in the garden outside the cave (every time Chuuya checked at least twice if Dazai didn’t accidentally sit on any of his flowerbeds) with the flower-scented air and the faint murmuring of the nearby stream, all this was creating an almost Eden-like atmosphere. Sometimes, even too perfect for Chuuya’s liking.
Or maybe it was just because the last time he had felt this happy, everything had gone downhill faster than he could blink.
Chuuya began petting the snakes in his hair with his hand, almost as if he were combing through the red curls he once had. Dazai immediately noticed the gesture—always-present hisses suddenly quieted, almost softened. He smiled faintly.
“Ow,” Chuuya muttered involuntarily as one of the snakes playfully, but harmlessly, bit his finger. “Come on, Hyacinth, really…”
“They have names?” Dazai exclaimed in surprise.
“Mhm,” Chuuya mumbled. “After flowers.”
“Who would have guessed,” Dazai chuckled. “Your obsession isn’t exactly subtle.”
“Oh, shut it, will you?” Chuuya rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his lips.
He watched as Dazai started searching for something with his hand from where he was sitting, his fingers blindly wandering through the air. Chuuya shook his head before gently taking Dazai’s hand in his own, guiding it toward the nearby begonias. For a moment, he found himself not minding the other’s touch.
“Here,” he said softly.
Dazai began slowly tracing the flower’s shape with his fingers, a focused expression on his face. His unseeing, white eyes, however, remained fixed on Chuuya’s—and despite knowing that the brunet couldn’t actually see him, it made Chuuya feel so damn special that he wanted nothing more than for this moment to last forever.
With a swift movement, Chuuya suddenly plucked the flower that had caught Dazai’s interest and gently tucked it between his tousled brown hair.
Dazai slowly reached up to touch the flower, then smiled—and for a moment, Chuuya could swear he saw those pristine white eyes light up just a little.
“Is this your way of giving flowers to everyone?” Dazai laughed, tilting his head slightly, careful not to let the flower fall.
“No. Not everyone,” Chuuya mumbled in response.
By the time Chuuya was carving the thirtieth mark on the cave’s wall since Dazai’s arrival, he had to admit that the time was literally slipping through his fingers, definitely faster than he would like it to.
Dazai never once tried to leave. Chuuya never once tried to make him.
The days settled into a routine of sorts. They would wake up, stay curled up in the cave until late morning, make some breakfast (or rather, Chuuya would), and eat together outside. Dazai always complained about this, mainly because the sweet fruits seemed to attract a swarm of bees. Chuuya would tell him to relax and not provoke them, to which Dazai would inevitably panic, earning himself at least one sting every few days.
They would go on walks, usually to the stream, taking in as much of its coolness as they could on hot summer days. Sometimes they walked in silence, but more often than not, Dazai’s absurd commentary and far-fetched stories filled the air—stories that Chuuya wasn’t quite sure he believed.
On some days, they would gather food, herbs, or anything useful that happened to come into their hands. Every time, Chuuya would listen to Dazai’s complaints about being unfairly and brutally forced to work. Despite the man’s overdramatic protests, Chuuya could see that he genuinely tried to help, whether it was picking the fruits, preparing the tea, or making their cave a little less of a mess.
And at night, they sat by the fire, or near the stream, or just outside the cave beneath the stars. Dazai liked to hum sometimes—aimless, wordless melodies that made Chuuya’s throat tighten in a way he didn’t want to think about.
It was dangerously close to feeling normal. Too close to feeling comfortable. And that terrified him the most.
Chuuya had spent two years alone, fighting every instinct that begged for companionship. But now, with Dazai here, it was way too easy to let his guard drop down.
He knew it wouldn’t last. He wasn’t supposed to have this. The gods had made sure of that.
Hope was a bitch though. One he couldn’t get rid of.
As a kid, Chuuya loved sunrises. After he got cursed, he grew to prefer sunsets - the purple, yellow and pinkish colours of the sky, slowly fading into black, symbolized another day he managed to survive. Symbolized that despite everything, he was still standing.
With Dazai by his side, he found himself growing fond of sunrises again. As the early light dappled the trees and flowers in a soft, almost white glow, and as he gazed at the closed eyelids covering those equally white, hauntingly beautiful eyes, Chuuya felt glad to witness another dawn.
It had been eighteen days since Dazai had confidently and refusing to take no for an answer walked into his life— Chuuya knew the exact number because the mark he had etched onto the cave wall that day was noticeably deeper than the others. He had even smeared a smudge of violet paint over it.
Chuuya was in the middle of painting golden patterns onto the stone armor of a warrior who had once fought him and lost—his body now forever frozen in rock. The paint Chuuya had earlier mixed from marigold petals shimmered faintly in the morning light and nearby, Dazai sat with his back against another statue, his fingers idly tracing the cold, unmoving stone of a hand frozen mid-reach.
“Say something,” Chuuya muttered after a prolonged silence. “You’re so quiet it’s annoying.”
Dazai chuckled, his hand falling idly onto his lap.
“I thought it annoyed you when I talked too much.”
It did. Dazai was definitely a talker—the kind of person who couldn’t finish one story without starting another halfway through. Every evening, he would say goodnight at least five times, only to remember yet another thing and spiral into another tangent, ending it all by claiming he had made it up. Chuuya would usually tell him to shut up or respond with a noncommittal murmur, but—though he would never admit it—he found comfort in Dazai’s endless chatter.
After being alone for so long, Chuuya felt like he could never get enough of the sound of another human voice.
"Yeah, but now you’re not talking at all. You just can’t find the golden mean on purpose, can you?" Chuuya huffed, placing the brush into a small ceramic bowl filled with paint before walking over to Dazai and sitting directly in front of him.
Dazai smiled, trying to focus his unseeing eyes on Chuuya, relying on the sound of his movements. This time, he managed just fine—the pure whiteness of his gaze locking with the deep blue of an ocean he would never truly see.
"I was just thinking."
"That’s unusual for you," Chuuya quipped. "About what?"
"Them." Dazai gestured vaguely to the statues surrounding them. "How do you think they felt? Did they even realize what was happening to them before they died? Or was it so quick they didn’t have time to?"
Chuuya’s hands clenched into fists before he could stop them, his gaze dropping to the ground—anywhere but the statues. Suddenly, they all seemed to be looking down at him in unison, staring with condemnation and hatred. Like they would at a monster.
"I don’t want to think about that," Chuuya hissed. "It doesn’t matter."
"Well, you seem bothered enough it. Even though they’re dead already."
"Exactly! They’re fucking dead, so it doesn’t matter!" Chuuya snapped, jumping to his feet.
For a brief moment, an almost imperceptible flicker of shock passed over Dazai’s face. But he quickly composed himself, remaining rooted to the spot.
"So why do you blame yourself?"
Why did he? What kind of stupid question was that? How could he not ?
"I—How could I not?" Chuuya hated the slight tremble in his voice.
"Chuuya, do you think a monster would blame himself?" Dazai asked, rising to his feet.
Chuuya bit his lip, already knowing where this was going.
"I am one. Don’t try bullshitting me into thinking I’m not. I made peace with that a long time ago."
"People don’t turn into monsters for doing things they were forced to do. They turn into monsters when they choose to do those things. You didn’t."
"But I’m not human either."
Dazai paused, his expression unreadable for a moment, as if weighing the weight of Chuuya's words. Then, without warning, he did something that caught Chuuya completely off guard—he laughed. It wasn’t a mocking laugh, but a soft, sincere sound that echoed around the quiet space between them. His eyes were more closed than open, with a genuine smile reaching them for once.
"I don’t know," Dazai chuckled. "Is there something that officially makes you pass as human? Some kind of codex? A rule saying you can’t have snakes for hair or something?"
Chuuya stared at him, blinking in confusion. The question was so absurd, so completely ridiculous, that it left him momentarily speechless. But before he could process it, he saw Dazai’s smile—infuriatingly, annoyingly beautiful—and it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
"Told you." he added, after a moment of silence from Chuuya.
The words snapped Chuuya out of his spiraling thoughts, but before he could muster a response, Dazai turned on his heel and started walking away. He moved toward the cave, humming a quiet tune under his breath as if nothing had just happened, as if Chuuya’s internal chaos wasn’t almost tangible in the air.
“Damn it,” Chuuya exclaimed, pulling his hood up.
It had started raining—not just a light drizzle, but a torrential downpour that appeared out of nowhere. One second, the sky was clear and sunny, and the next, he and Dazai were soaked to the bone.
It wasn’t anything unusual for the area where Chuuya had spent his entire life. Now, he was after all only a few hours' walk from home, and he had experienced these sudden weather shifts more times than he could count. Rain had always reminded him of carefree days—back in his hometown, whenever it rained, people would flood the streets. Some rushed out to collect as much water as they could in buckets, others used it to cool off during the scorching summer days, and children simply played, splashing in puddles and sticking out their tongues to catch the falling droplets.
Chuuya remembered playing with Yumeno, telling them stories about how the gods controlled the weather and what it all meant. Their curious expression never left his face, their eyes locked firmly onto his, hanging onto every word.
"Come on," Chuuya muttered under his breath, pulling his hood up, feeling the snakes beneath it writhing against each other, almost as if trying to keep warm in the rain. Him and Dazai were supposed to have a nice walk, but now all he wanted was to crawl back into his hideout. He didn’t like water. Not anymore.
He turned around and took a few steps, but through the sound of wind and raindrops pounding against the ground, he didn't hear Dazai's footsteps behind him.
"God, can you just move, for fu—"
He stopped mid-sentence as his eyes landed on Dazai, standing a few meters away. His eyes were closed—something he rarely did, since, as he had said, it didn’t make any difference to him. His face, a bit paler than usual, was tilted towards the sky, transparent raindrops sliding down his cheeks like the purest, most beautiful tears.
"Just a moment," Dazai said, completely still, the only movement coming from his lips and the water cascading over him, soaking through his chiton and into his skin.
Chuuya sighed and looked up himself. The sky was unusually clear—ironic, given the torrential rain that was falling, almost as if it were appearing from thin air rather than from a dark, heavy cloud. Weird.
He stepped closer to Dazai and closed his own eyes. He tried to relax his muscles, but instead, they only tensed further.
Suddenly, the water felt suffocating, as if he were drowning. It was trapping him, holding him in its embrace, refusing to let go no matter how much he tried to shake it off. It was stronger, inescapable, omnipresent. It was—
"Let's go," Chuuya said quietly but firmly, wiping his face with his sleeve, trying—futilely—to brush off the feeling. Just like he had tried for the past two years.
"Why? It feels nice," Dazai said, his unseeing gaze flicking in Chuuya’s direction.
"Because I said so," Chuuya muttered, taking a step away.
He stopped when Dazai grabbed his hand.
His body reacted instantly—screaming at him to fight, to run, to yell, to pull away—yet he couldn’t bring himself to.
Because when the initial shock passed after a few seconds, suddenly, Dazai’s touch felt different.
It felt warm. It felt safe.
Dazai’s grip was so gentle, his wet fingers brushing lightly, almost hesitantly, as if asking for permission to hold on. It made Chuuya want to cry right there and then.
He exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding and, with full awareness of what he was doing, squeezed Dazai’s hand back.
He had held Dazai’s hand before, but it had always been for a matter of seconds—to guide him, to help him navigate unfamiliar surroundings.
This?
This felt far too intimate for Chuuya’s liking.
And what was even worse was how good it felt.
It felt so natural, so right it hurt.
“If you really want to go back,” Dazai’s voice snapped Chuuya out of his thoughts, “we can.”
Chuuya thought for a moment. With Dazai here, everything didn’t seem so scary anymore.
“I’m good,” he murmured. “Where did you want to go?”
There weren’t many places left to explore after the past few weeks, so their options were limited. Their usual choices were walking along the stream, venturing deeper into the forest, or heading toward the coast where apple and orange trees grew. But never too close to the shore, never too far from the hideout—Chuuya wouldn’t risk that.
“Anywhere. Everywhere,” Dazai answered with a smirk, making Chuuya roll his eyes. “We could go further into the woods,” he suggested after a moment. “Maybe we’ll find something.”
“Doubt it. And with your sense of direction, I’d rather not go too far,” Chuuya muttered as he started walking, still holding Dazai’s hand. He sneaked a glance behind him, watching as the brunet carefully stepped forward.
“You’re doubting me? Wow.” Dazai clutched his free hand dramatically to his chest.
The rain stopped almost as suddenly as it had begun. Within minutes, the sky turned a clear, pale blue, and the only traces of the downpour were the droplets clinging to leaves and grass—and, of course, the fact that both Chuuya and Dazai were soaked to the bone.
Chuuya felt Dazai’s hand tremble slightly in his and glanced at him. His expression was the same as always—unfocused, distant—but his usually relaxed shoulders were tense, shivering just a little.
With a sigh, Chuuya let go of Dazai’s hand and shrugged off his cloak. The moment his hood fell, the snakes nestled beneath it stretched out, hissing softly—not in warning, just reacting to their sudden freedom. Ignoring them, Chuuya draped the damp fabric over Dazai’s shoulders.
Dazai clearly hadn’t expected the gesture. His eyebrows knit together slightly as he ran his fingers over the cloth, taking a few moments to realize what it was. He opened his mouth to say something, but Chuuya beat him to it.
“Shut up. You’re not catching a cold. I have better things to do with my herbs than waste them on an idiot like you.”
Dazai smiled in response, tugging the cloak closer around himself.
As Chuuya stepped closer, one of the snakes shot out from its nest atop his head, wrapping itself around Dazai’s arm.
“Hey, Iris!” Chuuya scolded it.
“I don’t know why you keep scolding them,” Dazai replied, already petting the creature. The snake had made itself comfortable, its eyes closed as it curled snugly around Dazai’s bandaged arm. “They just like me.”
“I hope he bites you,” Chuuya muttered, trying to untangle the serpent so he could step away.
“He wouldn’t,” Dazai said with certainty.
“One wrong move, and he would,” Chuuya retorted as he finally managed to pry Iris off. The snake let out a quiet, almost disappointed hiss.
“Well, that would be painful, so no, thank you,” Dazai shrugged.
“Says the guy with a death wish.”
“Chuuya!” Dazai drew out his name dramatically. “You never listen to me. I’ve told you a million times—I’m looking for a painless way to go!”
Chuuya knew. He was damn well aware. And no matter how much Dazai joked about it, every time he heard another mention of suicide, it made his stomach twist.
“They wouldn’t want you in Hades,” Chuuya said. “You’d go on one of your talking sprees, and they’d send you right back.”
“But you haven’t thrown me out yet, have you?” Dazai grinned.
“Yeah, guess I’m just better than the—”
Chuuya cut himself off mid-sentence, horror dawning on him as he realized what he was about to say. Had he just—had he almost compared himself to the gods? Had he nearly challenged their superiority? The mere thought made his blood run cold.
“Come on, it’s no surprise you’re better than the gods,” Dazai said casually, as if commenting on the weather.
Chuuya reacted on instinct, slapping a hand over Dazai’s mouth before he could utter another blasphemous word.
“Stop fucking talking,” he hissed.
“Why? You think they’re listening?” Dazai teased, pulling Chuuya’s hand away. “They think too highly of themselves to bother eavesdropping on two pathetic men down on Earth.”
“They see everything. They hear everything. They’re omnipresent, for fuck’s sake—they’re gods ! What don’t you understand?” Chuuya snapped.
“And? You’re already cursed, what more can they do?”
Chuuya had thought about it many times. What could be worse than this? Death was the first thing coming to his mind. On the other hand, he had thought about it many times — whether in the darkness of the night, when his fate of eternal solitude seemed thousand times more crueler than it did in the light of the day, or when yet another person fell victim to his curse and his petrifying gaze, becoming nothing but a frozen, beautifully painted statue.
It was ironic— since Dazai became a part of his life, for the first time in years, Chuuya found himself scared of death.
“I don’t know,” Chuuya answered evasively.
Dazai suddenly stopped in his tracks, placing a hand on Chuuya’s shoulder and turning him to face him.
“Which one was it?”
Chuuya didn’t need him to elaborate. The question was direct—who was the god who did this to him?
The problem was, he had two answers to that question. The real issue was which one hurt him more.
That Chuuya didn’t know.
And, Dazai already knew about Athena’s doing. She was the one to spread the rumour about Chuuya, adding a regular visits of idiotic heroes wannabes to already a bunch of his concerns. Dazai was asking about the other one.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said instead.
Dazai smiled faintly and shrugged.
“I guess. They’re all assholes anyway.”
“Shut up, before a lightning strikes right at you,” Chuuya scoffed, shaking Dazai’s hand off his arm. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dazai chuckled under his breath, unfazed.
"Well, if they were listening, they’d have done something by now, wouldn’t they? And hey, lightning wouldn’t be that bad of a way to go—"
"I said, shut up!"
Despite Dazai not being able to see him, Chuuya turned away anyway, unwilling to face the brunette’s carefree expression. He bit into his lower lip, feeling the drop of blood on his tongue, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.
He hated—absolutely despised—how easy it was for Dazai to talk like that. To dismiss the gods as if they were nothing more than figments of imagination. To treat them as though their existence had no effect on his life.
While in Chuuya’s, they had changed everything.
He had been punished, cursed, stripped of everything that made him human. He had felt their wrath, their overwhelming power. He had stared into his own reflection in the water, loathing for every moment of it, because of them . He had watched people turn to stone before they even had the chance to scream, because of them .
"Don’t speak like you know what you’re talking about," Chuuya hissed.
"Prove me wrong," Dazai challenged. "Tell me what happened to you, and who knows? Maybe I’ll admit you’re right."
That manipulative, cunning bitch.
"No fucking way," Chuuya snapped.
“Then I’ll just continue to think that you’re a fool when it comes to this, Chuuya,” Dazai shrugged. “Do you think I haven’t noticed, when we sit in silence in the evenings, how you mutter silent prayers, even though no one, no one listens to you? How you pick more fruits or flowers from your garden to offer them as your silly offerings? You’re just lying to yourself if you think anyone up there gives a single damn.”
At this point, Chuuya wanted nothing more than to grab Dazai by his robe and shake some sense into him, until the other understood. It was faith they were talking about, not some used, weary toy—faith that had been a part of Chuuya’s life since he was born, etched deeply into the deepest pits of his mind, tangled with his very being whether he liked it or not. It wasn’t some stupid addition. It was a part of him, one he couldn’t just simply get rid of.
“Just who are you mad at?” Dazai asked, his voice slightly quieter. “Me, or them?”
The snakes hissed at Dazai, something they usually did with a hint of instinctive affection, now was tinged with clear and visible distress. To Chuuya’s surprise, since the beginning, they had been fond of Dazai, almost seeking his closeness and company. Now suddenly it changed, as the mention and defying of the gods made them snap into a completely different creature.
It was a reminder. It was a reminder that even after years of coexistence, they weren’t entirely a part of Chuuya. Despite everything, they were Athena’s doing. And it was her they were most loyal to.
“You.” Chuuya said instinctively.
It was a damn lie, and he hated it.
The rain continued, only its loud hum echoing around them, as Chuuya stared at Dazai’s white, pure eyes, looking almost like two glowing lights in the half-darkness caused by the gray, sun-blocking clouds.
A lightning strike suddenly hit nearby, making them both flinch and turn their heads toward the direction. As the sound of the explosion slowly died down, Dazai chuckled.
“See? If they really were mad at me for saying all those things, they would have aimed better.”
Chuuya couldn’t stop himself from letting out a bitter chuckle.
"Sure, tell yourself that. Now let's go back. I’m soaked to the damn bone."
"Okay," Dazai shrugged. "We can light a fire when we get back. What do you think?"
Chuuya sighed. He both hated and appreciated how quickly they could slip back into casual conversation after a sharp exchange. It felt like both a curse and a blessing—so many words left unspoken, so many feelings buried deep, and yet, they could still sugarcoat it all with a natural, mutual understanding.
"Yeah. Let’s go."
The rain fell in a steady rhythm, the dampness creeping into Chuuya's bones as they walked side by side. After what felt like an eternity, they arrived at the cave, raindrops falling from their bodies onto the cold, stone floor, leaving darker water marks.
Chuuya felt his whole body shiver, cursing the weather outside. They couldn’t light a fire inside, and with the storm raging outside, starting a spark outdoors seemed more than impossible.
Luckily for them, it wasn’t long before the sky started to clear. Chuuya stepped out first, feeling the pleasant, timidly peeking out from behind the dark clouds rays of the sun on his wet skin.
“Come on, we can light a fire!” he shouted to Dazai, who had decided to take his sweet time gathering himself inside the cave.
Soon, the fire was lit, and Chuuya found himself relaxing, moving his hands closer to the flames to warm his cold palms. Dazai, sitting beside him, did the same, and Chuuya caught himself sneaking glances at him, ready to intervene if the other accidentally got too close to the fire.
A soft, quiet melody reached Chuuya’s ears, and he tilted his head to see Dazai humming again. He tended to do that a lot, whether in the middle of a conversation to annoy Chuuya, or to fill in the silence. It seemed to genuinely calm him down, so Chuuya decided not to tease him about it, letting the weirdo do his thing. He had no right to judge—he’d done much more questionable things out of solitude and loneliness over the past two years.
“Where did you get it from? The melody?” Chuuya asked.
Dazai stopped humming for a moment, letting out a prolonged sigh of contemplation.
“I made it up,” he smirked. The usual smirk he always used when he was talking bullshit.
“Yeah, totally,” Chuuya replied. “It’s too nice for you to have come up with,” he blurted out before he could think.
“I’m offended,” Dazai chuckled. “I was harmonizing with the sea.”
Chuuya raised an eyebrow skeptically. Right, he constantly forgot about Dazai’s extraordinary, probably even too extraordinary hearing. Or maybe that was just another stupid lie Dazai had come up with for his own entertainment, which Chuuya had foolishly believed. That, he would never know.
Despite his doubts, Chuuya closed his eyes, and with a focused expression, concentrated all his attention on picking up the sounds. The rustling leaves, the crackling of the fire, the sound of the wind—sure, but nothing from the water.
He used to love the sea—the deep blues and greens, the way the sunlight made the waves shimmer. He’d grown up surrounded by it, the salty breeze woven into his childhood. Now, he couldn’t go near it. Not after him.
“We’re too far to hear the sea,” he said stubbornly, giving in.
“Not for me,” Dazai said simply. He shifted a bit, pulling his knees closer to his chest, resting his head on one arm as he faced Chuuya. “I can hear it if I focus.”
“You got scared because you didn’t hear me walking behind you when we were at the orchard.”
“I was spaced out!” Dazai defended himself. “I can hear you perfectly. Actually, I can even hear a lot that you don’t, and I know your usual movements and breathing patterns by heart now.”
“That’s just creepy,” Chuuya muttered under his breath.
“I like to focus on sounds,” Dazai shrugged. “People say they like the silence to relax. For me, it’s always been uneasy. You know when you can’t see, if you don’t hear anything, there’s just—”
“Nothing left,” Chuuya finished.
Judging by Dazai’s expression, he hadn’t expected Chuuya to finish for him, but the next second, he smiled faintly.
Chuuya wished he could show him that smile, his own smile, which Dazai was never meant to see. He had a habit of wanting to share the things he loved.
“Yeah,” Dazai said softly.
A moment later, the melody returned—soft and steady, rising and falling like the waves that Chuuya still couldn’t bring himself to face. But at the same time, it carried something in a good way familiar, something he ached to get closer to. And he couldn’t quite explain why.
Chuuya looked around the garden. The sun was slowly disappearing over the horizon, the main source of light becoming the fireplace they were sitting by. Its warm light dappled the flowerbeds, trees, and statues.
The statues. Chuuya cursed himself mentally for sitting in the place he had chosen because when he looked up, his eyes locked directly with the stone ones of one of the frozen marble warriors. He didn’t look away, holding his gaze as long as he could.
And then it happened. The statue blinked at him.
Chuuya immediately tensed up, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. He blinked, trying to convince himself it was just a trick of the light. But no, there it was again—the subtle shift of the stone figure’s eyes, as if it were alive. His breath hitched in his throat.
Dazai, annoyingly quick to notice Chuuya’s distress, went quiet and after a moment asked,
“You okay?”
Chuuya shook his head, focusing his eyes on the ground.
“I’m just tired. I need sleep,” he said. He didn’t know who he was trying to convince.
“Okay,” Dazai said, not prying further.
Chuuya extinguished the fire, his movements quick, just wanting to hide in the safe space of the cave’s center as fast as possible. When he finally finished, he placed the now-empty water bucket beside him and took a deep breath. With trembling hands, he looked up, his heart hammering in his chest.
The statue was still there, still watching. The same features carved into the stone, the inevitable effects of time. The same armor, the same sword gripped in its hand. Just not the same face.
The statue’s head was tilted slightly, Chuuya was sure of it. It was looking directly down at him, which made him let out a quiet gasp and stumble a few steps back. His snakes began hissing all at once, making his ears hurt to the point that he instinctively put his hands over them.
He felt dizzy. He felt nauseous. His vision blurred as his heart raced. The hiss of the snakes was drowned out by a deafening ringing in his ears, like a thousand voices screaming at once. His knees buckled beneath him, and before he could catch himself, darkness took over, pulling him under like the tide pulling at a drowning man.
When he woke up, it was quiet. For a moment, he thought he was out there in the darkness, but then, unable to properly open his eyes, he felt the stone, familiar floor of the cave beneath his body, providing at least a small amount of comfort.
And then a sweet sound reached his ears.
He slowly tilted his head, opening his eyes, seeing a figure lying beside him. Dazai was curled up, his knees drawn slightly up, his eyes hidden behind his eyelids, his lips slightly parted. The humming was faint and distant—Dazai was still asleep, the sounds leaving him as he dreamt.
Dazai must have brought Chuuya here, since the last thing he remembered was passing out on the cold grass. He put a hand to his forehead, trying to push the memories out of his mind.
Looking down, he couldn’t hold back a small smile as he saw he was on the more comfortable of their makeshift beds. Usually, it was Dazai who sprinted to the cave, claiming the spot to sleep before Chuuya could even think about it. Now he had willingly given it up to him.
Chuuya rested his head back on the feathers covered by linen cloth, his head tilted toward Dazai’s direction. His gaze lingered on Dazai’s peaceful face, watching the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. It was strange—he wasn’t used to such closeness. Usually, he was the one keeping his distance, the one who closed himself off. But here, now, with the soft glow of the fire casting shadows on the stone walls, it felt different.
And for the first time in years, he didn’t mind having fallen asleep next to someone else.