Osamu’s been thinking of a certain redheaded slug more often than not, lately. To be frank, it was rather annoying and Osamu wished for it to stop. There was absolutely no reason for Chuuya to be on Osamu’s mind these days. They haven’t seen each other in years. Since Osamu deflected from the Mafia after Odasaku’s death.

And yet…

Osamu yearns. He’s never wanted anything quite like this before. He missed Chuuya. He missed Chuuya’s fierce, bright eyes and feral, manic smile. He missed Chuuya’s violent, visceral anger and contagious laughter. He missed Chuuya’s unique insults and embarrassed compliments. He missed Chuuya’s whole being. Chuuya was the only one who managed to confuse and make genuine interest spark in Osamu. And most of all, he missed the way Chuuya would look at him when they were alone.

Their entire relationship was complex, messy, and far too intricate to make much sense of. There was so much… baggage woven into it, so much unspoken trauma and feelings tethered to it. But Chuuya and Osamu were undeniably sown together by more than this. No, they were a part of each other. Like a single soul split into two. They fit each each other like intertwined roots or like puzzle pieces.

They were a team. A duo. Partners. They were Double Black.

Osamu missed that too.

That’s why he’s walking to Chuuya’s apartment at 12:34 a.m. in the morning in the late February flurry of snow. He didn’t have much, just his longing, his beige coat and a five dollar scarf.

His journey to Chuuya’s place ends as he comes to stop in front of Chuuya’s front door, but he can’t help but feel as if it’s just started.

Osamu only hesitates briefly before raising a hand and knocking the door three times with his knuckles. In the olden days, he’d just break in, but Osamu felt like this was what he should do.

Uncharacteristically, Osamu felt anxious. And excited. His heart was beating fast and he felt more alive than ever.

Another affect of Chuuya Nakahara on Osamu Dazai.