Chuuya and Dazai were always together, no matter what the occasian was.

The two teenagers gazed up at the stars, sitting on the rooftop of Chuuya’s apartment.

The ginger gazed over at Dazai, running his hands through his brunette hair.

“I love you, Dazai. I don’t care.” Chuuya murmured, his tone more softer than usual.