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Verlaine didn’t know what he did in his past life to have the gods punish him so cruelly in his current life.
In his precious lives, did he insult someone’s grandmother? Accidentally blew up a country? Maybe accidentally blew up someone's grandmother?
Maybe he was the Assassin King in his previous life that murdered countless humans without a single remorse. It would’ve explained his growing collection of knives.
Oh how he wants to use his precious knives to stab the cockroach clinging onto his sweet, innocent little brother.
Dazai Osamu.
An absolute menace to society.
The Devil’s incarnation.
The bane of Varlaine’s existence to ever grace the earth.
The menacing piece of shit that continues to breathe to this very day.
And to his utter horror and devastation, Chuuya’s beloved childhood best friend and lover.
He remembers seeing his life flashing before his eyes when Chuuya reintroduces Dazai as his boyfriend. He remembers the feeling of pure rage building inside after seeing the smug grin Dazai directed at him as though the brunet won their metaphorical competition.
Verlaine wants to murder the insufferable brat right there and then!
The blond man believes this was God’s plan to test his sanity and morality. There could be no other explanations as to why Dazai existed other than to torment Verlaine’s mind and corrupt Chuuya’s innocence.
And the evidence is right in front of his face!
Sitting at the dinner table are his sweet little brother and the eternal pain in the ass Verlaine unfortunately met. He sees Chuuya wearing a shirt that is too big on his lithe frame, pooling down towards his knees and barely covering his shoulders. Blond brows twitched in irritation after spotting several dark marks gracing on the younger’s skin. He doesn’t need half a brain to figure out who put those on Chuuya.
Even worse, Verlaine has to watch his little brother sit on Dazai’s lap while being showered with affections and kisses from the shameless brat himself.
Even so, he can’t help but overhear their conversation.
“Stupid ‘Samu! I can sit in my own damn chair!” Chuuya whines, a slight blush decorating his cheeks. He squirms to move out of the taller’s lap, but the arms around his waist tightens. He shivers when one of Dazai’s hands wanders up the big shirt to reach his lower back, soothing the small ache. “O-Osamu! Not here, you idiot mackerel!”
Chuuya needs to get away or they will end up doing another round of lovemaking.
Dazai grins cheekily at his embarrassed lover. “I did say I will take responsibility last night, my sweet chibiko.” He kisses his adorable lover’s reddened cheeks and kissable lips. “I want to spoil and take care of my most favorite person on my most favorite day of the year.”
Chuuya let out a squeak, hiding his even more reddened face against Dazai’s neck. Dazai, in turn, holds Chuuya tighter in his arms, showering kisses and whispering sweet nothings into those sunset curls he loves to card through with his hand.
“How can you say those things with a straight face?” Chuuya asks, voice slightly muffled from where he buries his face.
“Nothing about me is straight.” Dazai laughs when he feels a soft punch hitting his back. “My dear slug, if I don’t serenade my love for you, I just might explode from it.” He nuzzles his face into those soft sunset locks, inhaling the lavender scent from the shampoo Chuuya used from their morning shower.
“I love my Chuuya too much to not tell him how much this day became so precious to me when the Gods granted me the most wonderful person in my life.”
Chuuya feels his eyes watering at the confession. It’s the same words Dazai said to him last night when the younger boy made love to him.
Whispers of devotion, gratefulness, and love forever locked into his pleasure-filled mind.
Arms that wrapped him so preciously inside a cocoon of warmth and safety.
Chuuya lifts his head up and smiles gratefully at Dazai. “I love you, Osamu.”
Dazai smiles back and leans down to caress his lips against Chuuya’s soft one.
“Happy birthday, my one and only Chuuya.”
They share a gentle kiss, content in their love for one another.
The young couple continues to be in their own little world, ignoring reality and the fierce, venomous glare directing at them.
(At least directed at Dazai, but the young brunet could care less.)
“Paul, you’ll grow wrinkles if you keep making that face,” Rimbaud said softly, using one finger to soothe the furrow blond brows and his other hand to gently pry the clench fist.
Verlaine immediately deflates at his husband’s words. He takes the comforting hand and kisses his beloved’s cold fingers. “My dear Arthur. Light of my life. My Coming of Spring.”
Rimbaud shakes his head fondly. “That last one doesn’t suit me, Verlaine.”
“Nonsense, I knew no warmth until you walked into my life.” Verlaine sighs, leaning his head to place his forehead against his husband’s. “And I know what you’re gonna say, my love. I understand.”
“Do you? You always give Dazai-kun such a hard time, more so after he and Chuuya-kun became lovers.” Rimbaud tilts his head to lay a chaste kiss. “Are you giving them your blessings?”
Verlaine really doesn’t want to, but he understands.
Because who Dazai is to Chuuya is the same as who Rimbaud is to Verlaine.
An irreplaceable existence.
He still hates Dazai. He will never give Chuuya away. Dazai will forever be a thorn to Verlaine’s side just by existing.
But it doesn’t mean he wasn’t grateful to Dazai for putting a smile on his precious little brother’s face everyday.
For bringing light and happiness into those ocean eyes every time they see Dazai.
For alway choosing Chuuya no matter what.
“I reluctantly give my blessings, but that demon brat makes Chuuya happy. I can’t go against that, Arthur.”
Rimbaud lets out a quiet life that is music to Verlaine’s ears. “You never change, Paul.”
Verlaine will do anything to ensure Chuuya remains happy in life even if it means putting up with Dazai of all people.
(He will still murder the menace if he is being honest, but what’s new?)