[It takes about twenty minutes for Chuuya to make it back. His anger had meant he wanted to stay away, just to spite him (as if that would spite him), but his worry had won out in the end. It didn't matter that Dazai had told him he was fine; he had to see it, in person.
He'd ran back to the coffee shop he'd seen earlier, and picked up a bag of pastries and two large coffees. None of which is for Dazai, obviously. Chuuya walks in, walks around until he spots him, walks straight past him, and leaves everything on the kitchen counter. He picks up his own coffee (they're both for him, obviously), and starts sipping it, a bit desperately.
It had really been cold out, and he hadn't been able to get warm again after he'd stopped, hadn't been able to focus on running. He's shivering now, standing straight but looking as if he'd rather curl into a ball to conserve heat.
And he's not saying a word. He might give something away.]
no subject
He'd ran back to the coffee shop he'd seen earlier, and picked up a bag of pastries and two large coffees. None of which is for Dazai, obviously. Chuuya walks in, walks around until he spots him, walks straight past him, and leaves everything on the kitchen counter. He picks up his own coffee (they're both for him, obviously), and starts sipping it, a bit desperately.
It had really been cold out, and he hadn't been able to get warm again after he'd stopped, hadn't been able to focus on running. He's shivering now, standing straight but looking as if he'd rather curl into a ball to conserve heat.
And he's not saying a word. He might give something away.]