Chuuya leaned against the counter with one elbow propped on its surface, his chin cradled in his palm. The fingers of his free hand drummed a lazy beat against the cold wood beneath their tips. It was a slow Friday at the bookstore. Thus, the redhead was bored. He was restless, too. So in an effort to pass the time, Chuuya reorganized the shelves, cleaned the café tables, and stacked the white porcelain mugs by the coffee station in a pretty good darn display (if he could say so himself). Too bad no one has stopped in to see it. Nevertheless, his busy work had only managed to transpire a total of one hour and fifteen minutes before he was back to his original state of boredom.

Eyes flicking to the round clock on the wall, Chuuya exhaled a grumble at the time, his breath fluttering through his hair. It was only eleven o'clock. Seeing as there was nothing else to do other than pray someone would walk through the front door while the minutes crawled by, he considered asking Akutagawa if he minded Chuuya taking an early lunch break so he could find some sort of entertainment by harassing Dazai at the bakery. Willingly seeking the man out before he barged through the back door and wrecked havoc on Chuuya's nerves would be a first.

Mind made up, Nakahara pushed himself from the counter and headed toward the break room; his footsteps were quiet as he strolled through the short narrow hallway. As soon as he walked into the room, Chuuya immediately wished he had opted to simply leave and track the bandaged freak down at his workplace without notifying Akutagawa. Rather than do so, however, he stood there frozen to the spot with his mouth agape. Chuuya wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh, run away and act like he hadn't seen a thing, or sound a round of well-awaited applause. He chose a light cough, instead.

His reply came in the form of a startled squeal followed by the screeching of black boots backpedaling across the floor as Atsushi practically flew to the other side of the room. Standing by the chairs, he dropped into a low bow, and Chuuya could see a scarlet red flooding his cheeks and ears, spreading down the back of his neck. Atsushi straightened up and began fiddling with his gloves.

The corner of Chuuya's mouth curled into a sly grin. It widened when he caught sight of Akutagawa's narrowed glare out of the corner of his eye; the look dared him to comment. Biting back his smile, Chuuya cleared his throat to break the deafening silence that was ringing in his ears.

"I'm sorry to interrupt—"

"Don't be sorry, Nakahara-san!" Atsushi interjected, frantically waving his hand in an almost hysterical way; Chuuya fleetingly wondered if it would break off and carousel across the room under the building momentum. "We're just—"

A loud cough interrupted Atsushi's excuse, drawing both his and Chuuya's attention. They were met with a pair of gray eyes burning holes into their cores.

"Do you need me at the station, Nakahara-san?" Akutagawa asked, his voice gruff. If Atsushi was hearing what Chuuya was hearing, it was borderline murderous.

"There hasn't been any customers so far today," began Chuuya, "so would you mind if I stepped out for an early break?"

Gray eyes roll to the side, and Akutagawa sighed, "If you want to go visit Dazai-san—"

The tips of Chuuya's ears tinged a light pink; he was grateful that his hair covered the majority of his body's betrayal. Keeping his cool (and not denying his coworker's foresight), the redhead jabbed a finger over his shoulder and huffed, "Do you want a fig scone or not?"

"Yes," came the simple answer. Chuuya posed the same question to Atsushi.

Atsushi shifted to one foot. "Sure, that would be—"

"He's not staying," Akutagawa cut the other off, glaring at Atsushi out of the corner of his eye. After the harsh words were spoken, Chuuya caught sight of another round of color blossoming on Atsushi's pale cheeks.

Ignoring Akutagawa's stubbornness, Nakahara spoke, "I'll get you a tea cupcake, Atsushi-kun."

Before either could protest or throw a fit, Chuuya spun on his heel and headed through the corridor to the store front. He put on his hat and shrugged on his coat before loosely wrapping his green scarf around his neck. After securing his outerwear, Chuuya exited the bookstore and turned the corner leading to Kunikida's Sweet Dreams bakery. He swiftly weaved through the crowd of pedestrians and darted across the street, his hurried breaths coming out in white puffs of air. As he rushed down the sidewalk, he pushed away the idea that his pace was due to the prospect of seeing a certain lanky waste of bandages versus the need to get out of the cold weather. Deep down, both were ideal. When he wrapped his hand around the bakery's front door and opened it, the two desires came to fruition when the bell chimed over the entrance.

Chuuya stepped into the shop, the door closing behind him with a soft click. He made a move toward the dessert display when the sound of a chair scraping caught his attention, his foot mid-stride. The redhead glanced to the side to find a pair of bright green eyes staring at him. His memory brought forth the familiar face.

"Dazai-kun's in the kitchen," said Ranpo, his hand cradling an impressive amount of chips. "He's been waiting for his boyfriend to stop by."

A young woman popped out from behind the dessert display. Naomi jabbed a finger at the other employee, wagging it as she chided, "It's not nice to tease, Ranpo-san!"

In lieu of her light scolding, Ranpo simply shrugged and stuffed the chips into his mouth before turning in his seat to look out the window. Naomi rolled her gray eyes.

"He's back there," Naomi told Chuuya. She beckoned him forward, and when he was standing in front of her, she leaned in and whispered behind her hand, "Be careful because he made Kunikida-san mad...again."

"That doesn't surprise me," murmured Chuuya.

"Nope," she chirped. Smiling sweetly, she gestured toward the kitchen. As Chuuya walked by, her grin turned into a wicked smirk.

"Have fun~!"

Nakahara ignored the tease before he decided to forgo his plans to harass Dazai and return to the bookstore without the promised desserts. He wished he had followed through on that choice when he stepped through the swinging door to the kitchen. Rather than a pair of infuriatingly gorgeous brown eyes, Chuuya was met with a splatter of cake batter to his cheek.

"Sorry about that, chibi."

"Bastard." Chuuya shot a dirty look at Dazai, whose rolled up sleeve allowed him to be practically elbow deep in the large bowl. Wiping away what was meant to be chocolate with his gloved hand, he grumbled, "I should've stayed at the shop."

Dazai put the mixing bowl down on the metal counter, placing the whisk inside. He grabbed a towel from a bin from beneath the workspace, then closed the distance between the two. Chuuya reached out to grab the cloth, but the taller man pulled it away with a shake of his head.

"Let me," he said, and to Chuuya's surprise, he allowed Dazai to clean off his hand. While the brunet wiped off one finger after the other, Nakahara leaned to the side to peek at whatever Dazai had been up to before he arrived.

Chuuya took note of the measuring cups and ingredients—flour, sugar, baking soda, bars of chocolate and the like—haphazardly spread about on the messy counter, silently wondering how the man managed to keep track of each item. Gaze roving over the display, Chuuya zeroed in on two opened cans. He nearly gagged.

"What the hell are you doing with canned crab?" Chuuya asked, nearly shuddering with disgust.

"Experimenting."

"Experimenting?"

"Mhmm," hummed Dazai. He continued to inspect Chuuya's hand, wiping away any chocolate droplets clinging to his gloves.

Blue eyes flicked upward, connecting with browns. He took note of the flour dusting Dazai's cheek. "And what exactly are you doing?"

Dazai grinned. "Crab cupcakes."

"Do I have to tell you how fucking gross that is?" Chuuya questioned. Without thought, he reached up and removed the smudge of flour on the brunet's cheek with the pad of this thumb.

"Hey," started Dazai, "don't knock it until you try it, hat rack."

"Yeah, that's not happening."

A bottom lip appeared in a pout. Chuuya rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Fine," Dazai complained. "You really are mean."

Nakahara yanked his hand away. "No, I prefer to live."

Shrugging, Dazai returned to the table and picked up the bowl after tossing the towel away. "So, why's Chuuya here?"

As the other spoke, the redhead watched as he picked up bits of crab from a can and sprinkled them into the chocolate concoction. Chuuya wondered if Kunikida's fury stemmed from a taste of the poison currently cradled in Dazai's arms.

"I was bored at work," Chuuya answered, his eyes following the whisk's movements. "So, I figured I'd bother you."

"Aww," Dazai cooed, "it's alright to admit that you've missed me."

Placing a hand on his hip, Chuuya tossed the jerk a glare. "Get over yourself."

"It's not my fault you've been thinking about me since our date," came the smug retort.

"If that's what you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night, have at it bastard."

An all-knowing, lopsided smile tilted the corner of Dazai's mouth and his brown eyes glistened with mischief, staring at Chuuya like he had all the time in the world. The look had his heart pounding and stomach erupting with butterflies. He willed both reactions to disappear.

"If you say so, chibi."

Clearing his throat, Chuuya walked up to the metal table and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the cool surface before settling his chin on his closed fist. He peeked up at Dazai from beneath his eyelashes. Before he could insult the man with a few choice things he wished to say, Dazai piped up.

"Do you want me to teach you how to bake something?"

"If you share the moscato recipe, does that mean I don't have to see your lanky ass again?" asked Chuuya, tilting his head to the side.

Dazai pulled the whisk out from the batter and waved it around, the motion light and airy. Chuuya was grateful the mixture remained glued to the metal wires.

"On the contrary," Dazai sighed with a flourish, his voice carrying a dreamy tone, "Chuuya will only fall deeper in love with me."

Frowning, Chuuya scrunched his nose. "You give yourself too much credit."

Another sly grin lit up the brunet's face. He leaned toward Chuuya, practically stretching across the table as he teased, "I don't hear you denying it."

Chuuya's mouth dropped open in a scoff. He straightened up and folded his arms over his chest and began drumming his fingers against the sleeves of his coat. He was was about to retort with a witty comeback that he truly didn't have when he was, yet again, cut off by Dazai.

"Well?" Dazai prodded, his eyebrow lifting in a challenge.

After the proposed question, Chuuya's fingers subconsciously twitched with the need to reach into his pocket and yank out the phone that was suddenly burning against his hip. He chewed the inside of his cheek for a couple of seconds, weighing the pros and cons that settled on a pro before a con even popped up in his mind. Placing his back to Dazai, Chuuya pulled out his phone and typed out a message.

[11:31 A.M.] Is Atsushi-kun still there?

[11:32 A.M. Akutagawa] Yes.

[11:32 A.M.] Can you manage the store without me for a little be longer?

[11:33 A.M. Akutagawa] Fine.

Putting away his cell, Chuuya glanced over his shoulder at the taller man smugly playing the role of omnipotent champion. Cocky bastard. Though he was slightly annoyed by the moment of defeat, Chuuya accepted it anyway. He turned around.

"Where can I hang my coat?"

Approximately three and a half hours and a "Sweet dreams, chibi" later, Chuuya strolled into the bookstore with various flavored cupcakes and scones. Much to his relief, the place was void of customers. If he hadn't been able to hear the light chatter of Akutagawa and his supposedly 'only just a friend', Atsushi, Chuuya would've believed the building was closed for the day.

He headed toward the counter. Slipping behind it, Chuuya put the blue box filled with desserts on top of it, then began removing his outerwear. As soon as he hung up his coat, a loud buzzing sound emanated from the clothing's pocket. Nakahara retrieved his phone and unlocked it, the bright screen highlighting the soft upturn of his lips.

[3:14 P.M. Mackerel] I'm bored.

The three gray dots wavering in front of Chuuya's blue eyes were followed by a question.

[3:14 P.M. Mackerel] What's Chuuya up to?

[3:15 P.M.] Ignoring you.

[3:15 P.M. Mackerel] Oh contraire, mon chou!

Chuuya's brow furrowed and he frowned, a grimace playing at the corner of his mouth.

[3:16 P.M] Has anyone ever told you how lame you are?

[3:17 P.M. Mackerel] A coworker of mine tends to tell me something along those lines a few times a day.

[3:17 P.M.] Good. I'm not the only one who thinks you need a hobby.

[3:18 P.M. Mackerel] Annoying Chuuya is my hobby.

[3:18 P.M.] Maybe you should take up reading instead of getting on my last nerve.

[3:18 P.M. Mackerel] Actually, I was reading a book about antigravity the other night.

[3:19 P.M. Mackerel] I couldn't put it down.

Biting back a laugh, Chuuya's thumbs tapped against the screen, flying from letter to letter.

[3:20 P.M.] You're ridiculous.

[3:20 P.M. Mackerel] I know.

[3:21 P.M. Mackerel] But still better than anything Chuuya has to say.

A scowl appeared.

[3:21 P.M.] You're a dick, too.

[3:21 P.M. Mackerel] I know.

[3:21 P.M.] Maybe it's time I kick your ass to the curb.

[3:23 P.M. Mackerel] Landing in oncoming traffic sounds fun. Unless you have something more exciting to tell me.

Annoyed, Chuuya huffed out of the corner of his mouth, his warm breath blowing through his curls. He rolled his eyes to the side. They landed on the abandoned dessert box. The redhead crossed over to the counter, setting his phone on top of it before opening the blue container and eyeing its contents. After choosing a dark chocolate cupcake with red wine buttercream icing, Chuuya peeled away its black paper wrapper and took a small bite. Chuuya placed his free hand on the table and began tapping his fingers against its wooden surface.

As he slowly ate one of the cupcakes he helped make, the redhead mulled over the obvious challenge and cocky aura emanating behind his penpal's statement. With each bite, Nakahara weaved through the witty retorts he could spit out, the flirty comebacks he knew Mackerel would find more adorable than playful (which was a blow to his ego), and the fiery comments that were meant to put the man in his place, but would undoubtedly be flipped so Chuuya was left sputtering and pissed off.

Settling on a reply as he finished the last of the cupcake, Chuuya cleaned off his hands and tossed the wrapper and napkin away. He reached for his phone. Smirking, he opened up the messaging app, pressing on Mackerel's name.

[3:31 P.M.] Camellia's.

[3:33 P.M. Mackerel] Oh, my. I didn't think you had it in you!

[3:33 P.M. Mackerel] I'm soooo flattered. I knew you loved me.

"Tch." Figuratively throwing the absurd declaration out the front door, Chuuya quickly typed a question.

[3:34 P.M.] Is that exciting enough for your shitty ass?

[3:34 P.M. Mackerel] How could it not be when Chuuya sweet talks me so?

[3:34 P.M.] Will you shut up?

[3:35 P.M. Mackerel] If I shut up, how can I tell Chuuya 8pm tonight sounds great?

[3:35 P.M.] Fine.

[3:35 P.M. Mackerel] (⌒.−)

[3:35 P.M. Mackerel] Where will my petite mafia be?

Ignoring the nickname, Chuuya entered in a swift reply.

[3:36 P.M.] I usually sit at the bar.

[3:36 P.M. Mackerel] How will I know it's you?

Chuuya took the time to proudly describe his fedora in more detail that was probably necessary, not giving a care to the world that he was practically boasting. Contrary to the unpopular opinions of various friends, it was a beautiful accessory and complimented his overall style.

After relaying his unbridled love, Chuuya hit the 'send' button. His response was instantaneous.

[3:38 P.M. Mackerel] Eh…

[3:38 P.M.] What?

[3:38 P.M. Mackerel] Your hat sounds horrific.

[3:38 P.M.] Fuck you.

While he watched the three waving dots on the screen, Chuuya ran his tongue across the front of his teeth; it brushed over something wedged between his right canine and lateral incisor. Confused, he tossed the manners Kouyou engraved into his very being and picked at his teeth. He pulled out an oddly long string, meaty and squishy to the touch. Chuuya grabbed another napkin given to him by Dazai, paying no mind to the tiny crab drawn in black on one of its corners. Just as Chuuya threw the soiled napkin away, his phone vibrated.

Sliding up the stool and settling onto its leather cushion, Chuuya crossed his legs. He began to unconsciously bounce one, his propped up foot lightly tapping against the side of the bar, the vibrations from the movement traveling up his leg. Leaning forward, Nakahara placed his elbow on the long bar's surface. Once his chin was cupped in the palm of his gloved hand, Chuuya causally twisted around to peek over his shoulder. He scanned over the bustling room, taking in the numerous patrons eating and drinking at tables and weaving through crowded sections all the while searching for the person he was waiting for despite not having a clue as to what Mackerel looked like.

Preoccupied with his endeavor, Chuuya dimly heard a smooth scraping noise. He turned his attention back to the bar to find a tall empty wine glass standing before him. He glanced up, his eyes meeting the owner of Camellia's.

"Thank you, Hirotsu-san," he said. The redhead shifted in his seat, removing his elbow from the bar.

"There is no need, Chuuya-kun," Hirotsu insisted. He twisted toward the shelves housing various types of alcohol—including a choice selection of wine Chuuya couldn't help but pine for—and reached for the bottle the redhead regularly requested.

With a corkscrew in hand, the man popped open the black bottle, then poured the liquid into the glass. As Chuuya watched the dark red alcohol fill the glass, Hirotsu spoke, "You haven't stopped by for quite a while. How're you doing?"

"I'm fine," Chuuya answered. Arm outstretched, he pinched the long stem between his fingers and brought the wine up to his nose, inhaling its scent while he swirled the fluid around. Humming with satisfaction, he took a small sip. He savored the sweet and bitter taste before swallowing it down.

Chuuya gently put the glass down; it softly clicked against the hardwood bar. "I'm meeting a friend tonight."

Hirotsu made a soft sound of acknowledgement; amazingly, it was audible to the redhead's ears over the sound of the room's endless chatter. "A date?"

At the man's assumption, Chuuya was quite frankly shocked that the fragile wine glass cradled between his fingers hadn't cracked beneath the escalating pressure that found its way into his grip. He cleared his throat.

"It's not a date—just a meeting," Nakahara stated. He was proud that his voice had managed to cooperate in spite of his nerves.

A faint smirk lit up Hirotsu's refined features. "Well, I hope you enjoy your evening, date or not." He held out his hand, which Chuuya took. "Stop by again someday, Chuuya-kun."

"I will," promised Chuuya. After a final shake, Hirotsu let go of his hand. The older man bid him goodbye before strolling to the far end of the bar and disappearing through a back door.

Alone with this thoughts, Chuuya took another sip of wine. Over the rim of the glass his blue eyes flicked to the clock on the wall above the alcohol shelves, taking note of the time: it was eight o'clock. He downed the rest of his drink. Chuuya put the empty glass down and pushed it forward, silently beckoning for the bartender for a refill. Three minutes in the crowded building had passed before he was graced with a fresh drink. Another two had gone by before his gaze had wondered back to the clock.

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Chuuya tapped his fingers against the thin stem, watching the red fluid ripple inside the glass. He took a sip. After putting his drink down, Nakahara retrieved his phone and woke up the screen; he was greeted with the time rather than a text from Mackerel informing him that the bastard would be fifteen minutes late. Chuuya willed away the little voice in the back of his mind whispering that he was being stood up.

Just as he was putting his phone back into his pocket, the noise of wood scraping against wood assaulted Chuuya's ears—a stool. Suddenly, the weight of his hat was whisked from his head. He blindly grabbed for it as he turned to the side. A scowl etched itself between Chuuya's eyebrows when his blue gaze found Dazai sitting next to him, wearing his fedora with a bright smile plastered on his face. His scowl darkened.

Humming, Dazai placed an elbow on the bar, placing his cheek against the back of his hand. He stared at Chuuya, his brown eyes dancing with amusement. The condescending look sent alarm bells ringing in Chuuya's ears.

"What're you doing here?" Nakahara asked, reaching for his hat and ripping it from the top of the other's head; brown strands of hair trailed behind the rapid movement.

"I've come to see Chuuya of course," Dazai answered. Using his free hand, he held out a finger and tapped the redhead's nose; Chuuya immediately batted it away as well as the tension coiling in his gut.

"How the hell did you know I'd be here?"

Dazai said nothing. He simply watched Chuuya watching him. A heartbeat later, the brunet heaved a dramatic sigh. He swiveled in his seat to face Chuuya.

"Do you remember the first joke I told you, hat rack?"

"Does knocking me over in the rain count as one?"

"Aww," Dazai cooed, "I knew you were paying attention to me! I hope it wasn't because of my good looks though."

"Oh, shut up and answer me, you prick."

Tilting his head to the side, Dazai's smile widened into a playful smirk. "It looks like a train just went by. You can see its track."

Nakahara jerked backward. "What?"

"C'mon!" Dazai exclaimed with a roll of his eyes. "Do I really have to spell it out, Chuuya?"

Chuuya flexed his hands. A part of him knew the answer, but the stubborn denial bubbling in his chest drowned out what he had suspected, and had even desperately hoped for, all along. "You can do that, or I can send my fist down your throat—your choice."

"Hmm," Dazai hummed, tapping his chin in consideration. "That sounds appealing, but painful, so no can do."

Without another word that would most definitely piss Chuuya off and send him flying across the room, Dazai pulled out his phone from the pocket of his tan trench coat. He held it up to Chuuya; a bright light flashed in his eyes.

A low growl rumbled in Nakahara's throat. He inhaled, then exhaled a ragged breath through his nose. While he was busy rapidly blinking the stars from his vision, his phone vibrated. He didn't look at it.

"Did you do this to fuck with me?" Chuuya hissed through clenched teeth. Fuming, he registered the tips of his fingers digging into his palms.

"Why would I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know," scoffed Chuuya, waving one hand at nothing in particular. "Maybe this is your idea of some twisted joke."

Dazai's eyebrows shot up. He folded a bandaged arm over his chest, then relaxed against the stool's back. "Why would I joke about this?"

The offending question sent Chuuya's pulse spiking and his white knuckled fists cracking with the embarrassment heightening with each passing second. Clearing the emotion away, he mused, "I've been talking to your suicidal ass this whole time."

Brown eyes rolled before landing on Chuuya. Dazai flashed the grin that usually sent butterflies fluttering in Chuuya's stomach, but at the moment, the luminous smirk was a blow to the gut.

"Obviously. Who else would it be, chibi?"