A/N: This fic is an accompanying work to a drawing I made, which is what that picture is above. I've been trying to branch out on things, and so I wanted to try something like this.

Enjoy!

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Chuuya was fairly open-minded when it came to trying new things, especially in his down time. It wasn’t fun to only decompress by sitting around; sometimes it was nice to branch out.

But he never thought that going to a masquerade ball would be something he would do.

Until today.

And yet here he was, in a ball room, purple mask over his eyes, donning a new hat and clothing, plus a dashing pair of heels because he was damn tired of being shorter than everyone else.

Chuuya has to admit, this was fairly nice. The whole idea of a masquerade was odd at first, donning a mask and hiding your name and identity, dancing with strangers, but perhaps this wasn’t so bad after all.

In fact, maybe Chuuya wanted to dance with some strangers. No harm could come of it, right?

The redhead was, for lack of a better term, inept at dancing. His talent when it came to music was singing. But with his identity hidden, and in this nice clothing, he felt his confidence renewed, that he could really let loose. Twirling around to the beat of his own drum while still attempting to follow that of the music, he decides he should do something like this more often.

After a long time of dancing, Chuuya decides to indulge himself with a glass of wine at a nearby table, he figures he’d earned it. Afterward, he’ll go back to the dance floor and tip his hat to a fine gentleman he could find and ask for a dance.

Until something—rather, someone—caught his eye.

Swirling around wine in a glass, a chocolate-haired man in white sat in a chair, seemingly uninterested in partaking in a dance. He wore a long cape with fluff around his neck, and delicate looking white gloves. He had his mask on the chair beside him, sitting with his legs crossed in a way only one man Chuuya knew would sit.

No…

Of course he is here.

Somehow, that brunette always showed up whenever Chuuya wanted someone most.

It’s like he knows. Which, knowing Dazai Osamu, he probably does.

Chuuya bites his lip in an attempt to not let out a heavy exhale and alert that man of his presence; he knows the moment Dazai sees him, he is done for. But, perhaps dancing with Dazai at a masquerade ball wouldn’t be the worst thing…

No. That’s just the wine talking.

At least, that’s what Chuuya tells himself.

Chuuya slugs the rest of his wine and slips back into the crowd, attempting to be invisible. If this was his first day, he would be praying that his mask hid his identity well enough for Dazai not to recognize him, or that Dazai hadn’t noticed him altogether.

But Chuuya knows that man. He knows that he most definitely saw him. And on the slim chance that he did not, at the very least he knows of the redhead’s presence at this dance.

The redhead surveys the mass of dancers for a potential dancing partner. But nobody seems of interest to him, and anyone he may want to dance with already has a partner. Perhaps he can just dance alone, till night falls. That would not be—

“Care to dance, mon petit?”

Chuuya recognizes that voice anywhere.

Slowly, he turns around, until he is (nearly) face-to-face with that brunette. Now, from the front, Chuuya can truly drink in the way Dazai looks. He’s now holding the golden mask up to his face. He wore a blue vest under a semi-loud white jacket, and now, close up, his gloves looked very soft, reaching out to him. Like they would fit perfectly in Chuuya’s gloved hand.

Dammit. Why does he have to look good?

Dazai smirks. “I saw you eyeing me back there. You are not very subtle. I am oh so happy to have run into you here.”

He takes Chuuya’s hand in one hand and caresses auburn locks upon the shorter man’s head with his other hand.

“I must say, you look stunning tonight, Chuuya.”

He kisses his hand.

Chuuya feels his heart pound. Yes, he wants to dance with someone tonight. But why Dazai, of all people? It’s always Dazai. Why can’t it ever be someone else?

It’s simple: because no activity feels nearly as good if he is not doing it with Dazai.

The two of them fit together like puzzle pieces. Mix together perfectly like red and blue making purple. They were meant for one another.

Chuuya has grown to accept that. It’s annoying as hell, why does the world’s most annoying man have to be so perfect for him? It’s just as well.

At least Chuuya can have Dazai meet his maker. After all the fun Dazai has gotten to have, it’s Chuuya’s turn now.

A smirk spreads across his lips. He takes away Dazai’s mask, fumbling with it slowly, tauntingly.

“Not as stunning as you, bien-aime.”

He slips a finger under the brunette’s tie and tugs him down.

“I’ve been looking for a dance partner all night, when the perfect one was right in front of me. I’d be happy to dance. But tonight, I lead.”

Chuuya is satisfied by the way Dazai swallows nervously. Then a grin spreads across his face. “Oh, the chibi has had a burst of confidence, hm? I like this side of you.”

“Well, you’re about to like it even more.”

Chuuya tosses Dazai’s mask away, that man needn’t hide his identity anymore, now that he was in his arms. He twines their fingers together and drags them to the center of the ballroom. Like Chuuya, Dazai was fairly inept at dancing; his musical talent also went to singing. But now, together, they could win all the competitions. Their chemistry sends sparks as Chuuya holds the taller man close and spins him around with his strength, nothing could stop them.

They are never truly complete unless together.

As Dazai had said before, they truly are one soul, split into two bodies.

Bringing their bodies impossibly closer, Chuuya holds tight onto Dazai’s hand and shoulder. He’s never felt so blissful while dancing. The way the brunette’s cheeks flush red from exertion only makes the redhead want to dance more, until Dazai crumbles in his arms, unable to move at all. Imagining that sight before him, a worn-out Dazai in front of him from dancing nearly endlessly, Chuuya might as well spring to cloud nine.

As the music crescendos, Chuuya dips the taller man quickly, amused by the puff of air that escapes his lips. He lets Dazai go, and the man nearly collapses.

Dazai pants heavily as the music fades to a piano dynamic. “Oh dear, Chuuya, I think you have broken me.”

Chuuya smirks at the exhausted brunette. “You’ll know when I’ve broken you, Osamu. Come with me.”

Chuuya takes the man by the hand and drags him to a discreet corner of the ballroom where nobody resides, as if they were keeping it vacant just for them.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

He pushes Dazai into the corner couch and climbs into his lap, using his fingers to fumble with the fluffy part of Dazai’s magnificent cape. He stares into his eyes longingly, taking back all his thoughts earlier; he’s grateful to have found the brunette here.

Dazai wraps his arms around the redhead, letting his gloved fingers slowly dance up and down his back. “Chuuya...you’re so mean. You won’t even take off your mask for me?”

Chuuya laughs. “Very well. I took your mask and then wore you out to the bone, I suppose you’ve earned a look at my face, Osamu.”

He moves one hand from Dazai’s back and slips his thumb under his mask, very slowly taking it off. The way Dazai stares at him with such a needy look in his eye, it only makes him want to go slower, torture the brunette more. But the redhead is losing patience in himself, so he instead speeds up a little, and takes the mask off his eyes, revealing his piercing blues for Dazai to finally see, no longer hidden behind black lace.

Dazai cups Chuuya’s face tenderly. “My goodness, Chuuya, I forgot how beautiful your eyes are. Oh, how I wish I could swim in them endlessly. Of course, you’ve broken me, so I would have no energy to, and I’d drown. Although, I most certainly wouldn’t mind going that way~”

Chuuya rolls his eyes playfully. “Dammit, Dazai, you’re ridiculous.”

Dazai runs his fingers up Chuuya’s sides. “You love it.”

“That, I do.”

Chuuya wraps his slender legs around the brunette’s torso as he loses his fingers in the dark fluff again. Oh, how he wants to kiss that man senseless. How he wants to derive him of more air. How he wants to break him further. But if he kissed him, he wouldn’t be able to look at his face. His whiskey-tinted eyes with speckles of crimson, he never wants to stop looking at them. That smirk on his lips, he loves it.

Of course, Dazai seems to read the redhead’s mind. He slides a hand into his hair, his fingertips pushing around Chuuya’s hat slightly. He leans forward, and his eyelids flutter slightly. Chuuya’s always loved Dazai’s long eyelashes.

“Kiss me, Chuuya.”

Those three words, paired with that face, and the gentle touch, Chuuya’s in heaven. How could he say no?

He leans forward and slots their lips together, fitting perfectly against one another like everything else. He can faintly taste wine on the brunette’s lips and happily licks it off. His fingers wander into the chocolate-brown coiffure upon Dazai’s head, reminiscing on how soft that hair is when he’s not wearing his gloves. Suddenly, nothing else mattered to Chuuya. He and Dazai are still in the ballroom, far away from the other dancers. The music is barely audible to them anymore. He doesn’t care if a bystander happens to walk by, He doesn’t care what happens at all. He doesn’t care about anything anymore, except for Dazai. The tender movement of his lips against his own, holding him close, gently tugging on his hair.  Chuuya enjoys the blend of bliss and pain, it makes him feel like he’s truly alive.

Eventually, the redhead runs out of air and pulls away, drinking in Dazai’s half-lidded eyes and soft smile, his reddened cheeks, how enamored he looks.

“Chuuya…”

Dazai’s hand quivers a little.

“Now I know you’ve broken me. I can’t move anymore.”

Chuuya changes his position so he’s on his knees, looming over the brunette, and he pushes him against the headrest of their seat. “Good.”

“Chuuya’s so mean…”

Chuuya smiles at the brunette. Not a smirk. Not a mischievous grin. A soft, gentle smile, for the first time all night. He weaves his fingers through Dazai’s hair.

“Not as mean as you, Dazai.”

Dazai lets out a quiet chuckle at that.

“What do you say, we go back to the dance floor together? I want to dance with you more.”

Dazai rolls his head to the side, keeping eye contact with Chuuya, as if his life depends on it. “But you’ve broken me, Chuuya. I can’t move.”

Chuuya laughs. “Then, why don’t we stay here? Have a different kind of dance. I’ll do most of the moves.”

Dazai smiles at Chuuya’s tone. He wants to smirk, but is too worn out to do so. He brushes their lips together, reminiscing on their lovely time on the dance floor, and eager for whatever sort of thing Chuuya has in store for him now. Truthfully, Dazai can never get enough. No activity feels nearly as good if he is not doing it with Chuuya.

“Well, when you put something like that, I could never reject such a lovely offer, mon petit~”