[Chuuya, at least, has realized that he'll have to cut his run short. He's considering whether he should get a mafia driver to pick him up, or if he should at the very least push himself to walk home, so it feels like less of a waste. He hates giving up, and he hates feeling weak even more. Once he's caught his breath again, he should be able to make it home without help, he thinks, if he just takes it slow.
He's not expecting anyone to approach him. It takes him a moment too long to realize someone has - that's definitely dangerous, considering the amount of enemies he has - but when Dazai speaks, he recognizes his voice immediately. He'd need to be actually unconscious not to.
He turns his head to look up at him, face too pale form exhaustion, but his eyes wide, caught off guard.]
Dazai?
[Dazai is about all he's been able to think about since what happened. He's been doing his best to keep himself distracted, but it's impossible when he hasn't been able to work, so his mind kept drifting back to those moments, to looking up at Dazai on top of him, to the feeling of those hands around his throat. The bruises are still there, if slowly fading, and he keeps touching them as a reminder, just to make them hurt. He still remembers the feeling of Dazai spilling inside of him, too.
And he hates it. He's been doubting himself more and more since. He's been miserable, alone in his bed.]
What the hell are you doing here?
[It's defensive, because he knows Dazai knows Chuuya shouldn't be here. Sometimes he really hates how much his ex-partner knows about him. He doesn't sound angry, though, because... Part of him has wanted to talk to Dazai. He hates that, too.]
no subject
He's not expecting anyone to approach him. It takes him a moment too long to realize someone has - that's definitely dangerous, considering the amount of enemies he has - but when Dazai speaks, he recognizes his voice immediately. He'd need to be actually unconscious not to.
He turns his head to look up at him, face too pale form exhaustion, but his eyes wide, caught off guard.]
Dazai?
[Dazai is about all he's been able to think about since what happened. He's been doing his best to keep himself distracted, but it's impossible when he hasn't been able to work, so his mind kept drifting back to those moments, to looking up at Dazai on top of him, to the feeling of those hands around his throat. The bruises are still there, if slowly fading, and he keeps touching them as a reminder, just to make them hurt. He still remembers the feeling of Dazai spilling inside of him, too.
And he hates it. He's been doubting himself more and more since. He's been miserable, alone in his bed.]
What the hell are you doing here?
[It's defensive, because he knows Dazai knows Chuuya shouldn't be here. Sometimes he really hates how much his ex-partner knows about him. He doesn't sound angry, though, because... Part of him has wanted to talk to Dazai. He hates that, too.]