The door quietly opens and loudly closes.

Chuuya needs not look up. He knows exactly what those sounds mean.

But it's not like he couldn't look up. Years of being with that man taught him to always do so when those sounds occur.

He lifts his head and sees Dazai. His head is low. His eyes lack the shine they normally have; those eyes that normally shimmer like whiskey, now a deep crimson. His trenchcoat is wrinkled and slips down one shoulder slowly.

The brunette kicks off his shoes and slowly walks toward the couch, sitting next to Chuuya.

Chuuya would huff. The man might as well be begging.

He gently wraps his arms around Dazai, pulling him down so his face is level with the redhead's chest. He weaves his fingers through chocolate-brown locks slowly, and draws circular shapes on Dazai's back.

A pattern that occurred often. Whenever the door opened quietly and closed loudly. Chuuya knew what to do.

He felt Dazai relax in his arms. He hears an expulsion of air of calmness, and the brunette buries his face further into Chuuya's chest. Chuuya can feel a smile pressed against him.

A pattern that occurred often. Chuuya hugging Dazai tight, lovingly, after a bad day.

As a sign that it will be okay.

As a sign that Chuuya is there for him.

As a sign that Chuuya loves him.