(You — Chuuya.)

The Port Mafia lounge was nearly empty. Dazai sprawled on the couch, You sat on the floor, nursing a half-empty glass of whiskey.

Dazai suddenly groaned, shifting dramatically. “Ugh, my back hurts from carrying this organization.”

You scoffed. “You don’t carry anything but a death wish.”

Dazai arched back. You tilted your head to drink.

Your lips brushed.

"WHAT THE HELL—?!"

You shot forward, nearly headbutting the table. Dazai flailed off the couch.

Silence. Then wheezing laughter.

“Chuuya—hahaha—you could’ve just asked if you wanted to kiss me!”