when passion colors everything. [chuuya]

[Dazai Osamu]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","kimino"]

[attr="class","kimino2"]

[attr="class","kiminotop"]

THIS IS MY TOOTHPASTE MOMENT

[attr="class","kiminotop2"]

OH, I‘LL NEED TO FLASH A SMILE.

[attr="class","kiminomid"]

[attr="class","kiminoleft"] [attr="class","kiminoimg"] [attr="class","kiminolyric"] I dance in tune with what I fear [attr="class","kiminolyric2"] To do adrenaline, Completely rapt with what I hear. When passion colors everything, The songs I sing, from way out there to deep within, The face I wear behind my grin, the price I've paid for my original sin. Everything, everything, everything... [attr="class","kiminothing"] @chuuya

[attr="class","kiminoright"] there were unexplainable things in this world, he knew that better than anyone. why did people believe he was hungry at a certain point in time of the day, why was this object named this way and not the other? he‘s been asking about a dozen of similar questions in his head all of his life, but never found a solid, adequate answer to any. the most popular one he ever got was that things just were the way they were. a routine, created by humans for humans. he was never satisfied with it - in his eyes, it didn‘t explain anything at all. [break][break] what he never expected to question was what why did he live in the world he lived in, and whether could he be pulled away from it in order to enter another reality. it was, logically speaking, impossible to do so - unless if you, of course, had encountered a person with powers similar to ranpo's counterpart's. without having someone like that in the picture, however... well, a few hours ago he would‘ve laughed at anyone who presented such a probability to happen to any living being; himself especially, as no longer human could null any sort of magical ability that came in contact with his body. [break][break] and yet... he was here now, stopping his walking pace in order to watch his first sunset in another world. it was a normal occurrence here, they told him. people from different worlds drifted on this island on a daily basis and had been forced to start their life anew. there was no way out of here; no option to return. for most, knowing this fact must‘ve been groundbreaking and frightening but, for dazai, well... as he would say: "ahhhh it sounds refreshing and fun!" (he was even assigned his own apartment already; couldn’t wait to finally check it out!) [break][break] once the sun set down and the dark slowly settled in, his eyes drifted away from the view and he resumed his pace. considering the directions he got, star block must’ve been only a few meters away. he walked in silence, with a serious expression on his face, thinking. not of what his fate would be from now on, but rather if the tiger boy was strong enough to walk on his path without his guidance. he stopped once again, this time on the threshold of the apartment complex. “they have a long fight ahead of them, huh.” he whispered, his lips curving into a small smile. perhaps he was a little concerned. “wellp, i’m pretty sure they can handle it without me.” (if they couldn’t, then...) [break][break] he shrugged his thoughts off, pushed the door open, and took the elevator to his floor. the last stop he made was in front of the apartment - but, to his surprise, he wasn’t the only one trying to get into the same room that night.

[attr="class","leapcred"]Pharaoh Leap codes

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[Deleted]

finally posting. template will be edited in later. any dumb typos are my phone messing up.

---

booze was on the house at a cheerful little downtown bar for him and a couple of other Ω5 members. alcohol was never served in excess, the establishment turning down its sale to anyone showing signs of intoxication or rowdiness, but the three of them were treated to just a splash extra (or a glass, maybe) for their role in the area’s peace. just that afternoon, they’d dispatched an unsavoury character who thought he was some top shit. well, he was no match for nakahara chuuya, of course.

after enough banter was shared and he drained the last drops he’d been served, he ruffled the hair of a kid he was getting along well with and raised a hand in farewell to the owner of the place, taking off with a sure step, consciously kept steady as his compact form buzzed with the effects of the drink. night had just about settled, and he had a home to get to, dinner to cook and things to write and plans to make.

the black cloak tucked and thrown over his shoulder, the practised flip of a cigarette and click of a lighter, laughing quietly through the first soft clouds of smoke; this was a man in his element — at least as much as he could be after being ripped from his home
world and tossed into another.

a “utopia” was, by the literal definition of the word, a place that could not exist. imaginary. impossible. a void as much as an eternal bounty, a nightmare as well as a dream. this island was a cluster of lies. not everyone would know it or realise it, but he’d been quickly exposed to its dark core, assimilated into it. it wasn’t so bad, not so different to his executive role in yokohama’s port mafia. better than living a pointless existence.

nothing would replace his family from back home, but he had to keep himself busy, maintain a purpose, or else be a useless waste of space who should just die and rot. it was already proving a challenge to fill that hole in his chest, from where his soul would be sucked out into the aether too. so he had to work and fight, drink and laugh, or he would succumb to weakness.

the one great apartment block went on forever and ever, an optical illusion that expanded in every dimension while maintaining a sense of being feasible, normal. in the night it was especially beautiful, each of the four blocks somehow - to his mind, at least - resembling their astronomical namesake. the windows and porches in his quadrant glittered softer and more distant, like stars. so did the remaining end of his cigarette, fading quietly as he crushed it between gloved fingers to ash and dust.

he’d been living here... what, a week? week and a half? didn’t really matter in the end. the keys to his apartment were still shiny and sharply-cut. his drunken grip struggled with them nonetheless, jamming a second and then a third into the stiff lock of his door. he had already made certain that these rooms were strongly locked and defended; practically nobody but someone as strong as him could break in anyway.

annoyance flourishing, chuuya ripped off his gloves and stuffed them in his pocket, half-tempted
to destroy the blocked entrance anyway. tough but small hands were still bloodstained and torn from the beatings he’d distributed earlier. at least his clothes stayed pretty clean, but of course he’d check them over anyway and iron them out. say... was he at the wrong door? the elevators just down the corridor opened and shut; now somebody would have a chance to see him being an idiot...

hah, nope, all was good! the stupid mechanism finally relented. but for some reason, a tide of horror washed over him, neck down to toes. the passing person stopped close by. what he could feel through the floor they both stood on, the other’s mass and weight distribution and centre of gravity. the way he rustled, the scent he carried of coffee shops and antique bookstores, the way he used to smile—

”dazai.”

the tone he carried was rough and melancholy, and his eyes were like that too as he stared at his unlocked door, staying still. ”one good thing. the one good thing about this place was that i finally didn’t have to exist anywhere near you and all the shit you put me through.” it was the alcohol talking, probably. sure, he’d always whine at dazai, but now this. why did he have to ruin everything? the redhead couldn’t even step into the two-person apartment he had to himself, finally to rest after having one decent day so far, and that effigy of some shinigami had to show up and loom over him at his doorstep.

stupid saba-face. chuuya turned around to look up at it, to see if it really was him. tch, just his luck. maybe the universe always paired them together, polar opposites that needed to coexist.

[Dazai Osamu]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","kimino"]

[attr="class","kimino2"]

[attr="class","kiminotop"]

THIS IS MY TOOTHPASTE MOMENT

[attr="class","kiminotop2"]

OH, I‘LL NEED TO FLASH A SMILE.

[attr="class","kiminomid"]

[attr="class","kiminoleft"] [attr="class","kiminoimg"] [attr="class","kiminolyric"] I dance in tune with what I fear [attr="class","kiminolyric2"] To do adrenaline, Completely rapt with what I hear. When passion colors everything, The songs I sing, from way out there to deep within, The face I wear behind my grin, the price I've paid for my original sin. Everything, everything, everything... [attr="class","kiminothing"] @chuuya

[attr="class","kiminoright"] sweet lord, please help him, just when he thought this couldn‘t have gotten any worse, things took their turn in a completely unpredictable direction. (perhaps he should‘ve expected it, somehow. however, the possibility of this happening was extremely low no matter what.) he had hoped, silently, of course, to meet and talk to another person from the same universe as him sometime soon. he had hoped to eventually figure the way back home. (without rushing himself of course.) but this one person? this... [break][break] nonono, this couldn‘t be the reality of the situation he was in. how could he have such specific bad luck? (was he a tiny-angry-redhead-only magnet or something?) anyone but this guy would‘ve been better; he could take in and tolerate even his greatest enemy (okay maybe he wouldn‘t wanna share a room with fyodor but let‘s not go through these details, shall we?) but...![break][break] (but he couldn‘t tolerate someone his selfish actions had hurt in the past. even if it was the best for them both.) [break][break] agh. dazai‘s shoulders dropped, and he grimaced at the figure below. his nostrils picked up the traces of alcohol as soon as he was near enough. (just how much did he drink tonight?) this was frustrating. the worst part of it all? the room had already been assigned to him, he couldn‘t exactly walk away (or run. and dear, did he want to run). „what are you doing here, chuuya?” a rhetorical question, of course. he already knew the answer himself. besides, was it even worth questioning a drunk man?

[attr="class","leapcred"]Pharaoh Leap codes

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[Deleted]

chuuya would, of course, take a rhetorical question literally, especially if it came in such a tone from the mouth of this guy. a sorrowed and hollow stare emanated from those eyes that could be blue like an autumn sky. while considering the possibilities excessively, he swept his hat off his own head and shoved it between his body and arms as he crossed them tight. it would be safer that way while he was standing near this idiot; there were most certainly times in the past when dazai had yoinked it and disappeared in a flash.

see, the query could be taken in various ways.

‘what are you doing here, chuuya?’
trying to get into a fucking apartment that belonged to him, obviously.

‘what are you doing here, chuuya?’ was the second iteration.
damn if he knew. he could stand here for the rest of his life and contemplate his dreadful existence. alternatively, really should’ve bolted as soon as he caught wind of dazai nearby. then it would have mattered none anyway, ‘cause he wouldn’t be asked such a stupid question.

‘what are you doing here, chuuya?’
well excuse me, motherfucker. this one made a bit more sense. after fucking him over every which way, of course dazai would be displeased to find him here. chuuya had every reason to make dazai’s existence worse than hell. suppose dazai’d prefer just about anyone else, though. except maybe akutagawa-kun, from what he’d heard, or mori-sama... and he’d probably only really want a pretty lady to charm and then jump off a building with.

‘what are you doing here, chuuya?’
just about every version of this question seemed derisive now. yeah, he was totally just setting up for a tea party around here...

‘what are you doing here, chuuya?’
i should ask the same. yep, i wish i was back in japan and not here. do you live in the same block? are you my neighbour? god help me, are we roommates? i won’t last a night without destroying the apartment while trying to cave your face in.

‘what are you doing here, chuuya?’
soft. teasing. affectionate. daunting. doubtful. dazai could say his name in so many different ways, all which pierced straight through his chest.

i’m tired. i don’t want to be here. i want to be back home, around people i know. but this one person... this one rickety marionette who danced on chuuya’s own heartstrings... made chuuya wonder whether he could kill himself just to destroy them both.

”... wish i knew, eh? bet you can’t really answer that either... if i asked. which i won’t.” chuuya huffed fumes out his nose and stood up as straight as he could, not that it made him any less than eight inches shorter than dazai... ”look here, now you know where i live. i swear to god if you trash or booby-trap my apartment, i will cut you. i will!” he didn’t whip out his knife - such threats were meaningless on a loser like this anyway - but he did want to.

his gaze and focus wandered away, knowing from the start that he was defeated. that’s how it always was with dazai osamu; chuuya couldn’t win. ”hmph. where you headed, anyway? to the rooftop to jump off, i hope.”