It's been months. Lips on his, hands around his waist — then nothing. Chuuya couldn't remember the last time he felt normal about it, but even then he himself was hypocritical, doing the same thing to Dazai. The ginger told himself it was superficial. No feelings involved. Absolutely none.

By month seven he wanted to chase the kisses when they ended, he wanted those same hands in his hair, tugging on his collar. It doesn't make sense if it was superficial — because there's no feelings attached, he reminded himself everytime. And everytime either of them got reminded, they ghosted each other. It was a toxic relationship, really, it was. But he doesn't care.

Tonight was one of those nights, again, where he was ghosted. This time was longer than the others, more than three weeks went by and he went on with his day. He drifted in and out of thought; Dazai, his stupid encounter with a rowdy grocery worker (which annoyed him, he was in the right that time), Dazai. He groaned, hands dropping his phone and covering his face — shaking his head to get him out.

"Stupid mackerel.." he murmured to himself. It was quiet for a few minutes, just him, his breathing, and the tick, tick, tick of the clock on his wall.

Until his phone buzzed — jumping out of his skin, he looked down. He already knew who it was, though. And despite himself? His hand picked up his phone — swiping right to answer.

"Dazai." He greeted, his voice trying to sound flat — no, he wasn't joyous of his.. whatever it was anymore calling him. Totally not.