Your heart started beating so fast that you thought it would run away and you would have to chase it through the labyrinth of your ribs. Each pulse seemed to echo like a drum in a silent room, an urgent rhythm that threatened to escape the confines of your chest. You could almost see it, a wild, frantic thing darting around, a living creature of fervor and fear.

He, in his childish naivety, could not couldn't know of genes that sculpt beings. His world was still one of wonder and mystery, untouched by the complex patterns that wove through the world.

You looked at Chuuya, searching for help in his expression, but the only thing that met your gaze was the almost unnoticeable wrinkles on his forehead—like whispers of time etched into the canvas of his skin.

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, which brought those subtle lines on his forehead into clearer view. They deepened and shifted like delicate shadows, highlighting the gravity of his curiosity.

"You're getting old," you said, the words slipping from your lips like a child's observation, both direct and unfiltered. The statement hung in the air, marking the moment with a curious mix of simplicity and truth.

"You," he sighed, his breath escaping in a weary exhalation. He brought his hands to his temples, rubbing them in slow, deliberate circles as if trying to ease away the weight of a thousand unspoken concerns. His eyes closed momentarily, and the furrows on his forehead deepened. With a tired but patient gaze, he finally said, "That's not the issue we're dealing with right now."

He kneeled to your son's height, the gentle creak of his knees mingling with the soft rustle of fabric. His eyes, now level with the child's, were filled with a combination of curiosity and warmth. With a tender smile that barely touched his lips, he waited patiently.s. After a moment, he asked softly, "Why would you ask that?"

"Because he is following us wearing a shirt with I am your father on it?" 

Both Chuuya and you turned your heads to look behind you, and there he was—his figure briefly caught in the golden embrace of the midday sun. As you both looked back, the light revealed his hurried, tense stance before he vanished around the corner with a swift motion. The soft rustle of his footsteps was swallowed by the quiet of the street as he disappeared from view.

The sun, now high in the sky, bathed the scene in a warm, amber light, hinting at why he had most likely removed his coat at the café. Underneath, his dumb shirt clung lightly to his skin, the fabric slightly damp from the heat. The air was thick with the gentle hum of a summer's day, the warm breeze carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and distant city sounds.

But it was too late. There he stood, his attempt at spying undone by the glaringly out-of-place Star Wars meme shirt he wore. The shirt was decorated with a gaudy graphic that seemed to mock the very seriousness of the moment with its vivid colors and humorous.

You and Chuuya exchanged bewildered glances, then burst into laughter, unable to contain the absurdity of it all. The sound of your laughter filled the air, a joyful, irreverent note in the warm midday breeze. Your son, caught amid this unexpected outburst, looked on with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. His wide eyes darted between you and Chuuya, clearly puzzled by the abrupt shift from tense seriousness to shameless laughter in the middle of the sidewalk.

"I thought we'd fucked things up," Chuuya began, his voice faltering as laughter bubbled up from deep within him, spilling out uncontrollably. The warmth of the midday sun seemed to embrace him, casting a golden glow over his hair, which caught the light and seemed to shimmer like embers. 

His blue eyes, bright and vivid, sparkled with unnoticeable tears, their usual coolness softened by the warmth of his laughter. They crinkled at the corners, radiating a dazzling, almost ethereal light that seemed to dance with each burst of joy. As his shoulders shook with each fit of laughter, the play of sunlight highlighted the way his laughter transformed his face, smoothing out the usual lines of tension and replacing them with a radiant, effortless charm. His cheeks, flushed with a rosy glow, further accentuated the beauty of his unrestrained delight. 

At that moment, his laughter painted a picture of pure, unfiltered happiness, and you found yourself caught in a sudden, profound admiration. The sight of him, bathed in the golden light with his hair gleaming and his eyes alight with joy, was so strikingly beautiful that you momentarily stopped laughing, mesmerized by his sheer radiant beauty.

This was the laugh of relief, a sound that seemed to wash over everything, clearing away the remnants of tension. It was a momentary reprieve, a release of the pent-up stress that had been building.

If your son knew that Dazai was his father, the consequences would have been far from amusing. Dazai would likely be navigating the world with the aid of crutches.

It's not as if someone had deliberately turned him against his father. In truth, the subject was rarely brought up; whenever it did, however, conversations would abruptly stop the moment anyone caught sight of you. The awkwardness that followed was noticeable, a silent agreement to steer clear of the topic.

He harbored a deep-seated hatred for his father, despite knowing nothing about him, simply because he could see the pain he inflicted on you. The nights you grew distant, lost in a silence that spoke of inner turmoil, and the evenings when Chuuya's voice rose in vehement declarations about "that bastard" were more than enough to shape his feelings. The sharp edge of Chuuya's anger, the way he spoke of revenge with such fervor and the unspoken sorrow that cloaked your nights created a powerful resentment in him. It painted a clear picture of the damage done, making the mere mention of his father a source of inherited hatred.

Your son is genuinely caring and affectionate with both you and Chuuya. The delicate balance of his feelings is carefully maintained; while he showers both of you with love, the depth of his attachment to you is a nuance he ensures Chuuya remains unaware of.

Sure, there are others like Mori, Kouyou, or even Akutagawa, but none of them are the ones he would truly connect with. Mori's obsession with Elise, and his weird fixation on your son himself, brings him discomfort that makes any genuine bond impossible. Kouyou, despite her attempts to draw him close, seems more intent on using your son as a substitute for Kyouka, her actions veiled in a sense of replacement rather than true affection. 

Meanwhile, Akutagawa's constant chatter about the Jinko and his grim promises of future violence only deepens the chasm between them, leaving him feeling isolated and adrift. Each of them, in their way, forms a barrier rather than a bridge, making genuine connections unreachable.

He understood that his world was confined to just Chuuya and you. So, who was this stranger who harassed women and appeared to have troubling ties to both his mother and Chuuya? The way the stranger looked at him, with an air of eerie familiarity, suggested a hidden connection that defied his understanding. This encounter unraveled the safety of his small world, casting a shadow of doubt and curiosity about the unseen relationships and secrets that lurked just beyond the edge of his knowledge.

"I wanna go home, this stalker ruined everything," he said, his voice trembling with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. The words hung in the air, heavy and weary, as he stared blankly at the ground. The once-warm light of the midday sun now seemed harsh and unforgiving, casting long, stark shadows that mirrored the disruption in his thoughts.

Suddenly, a rustle from nearby drew his attention. Dazai burst out from his hiding spot, his sudden movement breaking the heavy silence. He stormed over, his face contorted into a frown of annoyance, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a rare moment of irritation. The intensity in his eyes and his voice cut through the air with a hint of exasperation. 

"I am not a stalker!" he declared, his words ringing with a defensive edge that did little to dispel the tension.

 As if struck by an unexpected insult, his face contorted with an expression of wounded pride. You could almost hear the echo of his sentence lingering in the air. With a barely noticeable roll of your eyes, you let your gaze shift past him, only to catch a glimpse of your son. His small form was nestled behind Chuuya like a fragile secret, peeking out from the safety of his refuge.

"He says after following us and eavesdropping on our conversation," your son mumbled, his voice a hushed murmur. His small fingers clung to Chuuya's hand from behind his back, the gesture a quiet plea for reassurance.

"I know your mother and Chuuya. Chuuya is my former partner!" The stalker's voice sliced through the quiet, a revelation laden with a dissonant mix of familiarity and accusation.

Your son's mouth fell open, a silent gasp of surprise etched across his young face. His wide, innocent eyes darted between the figure of the stalker and Chuuya as if trying to reconcile the fragments of this unexpected truth.

He glanced up at Chuuya, whose stoic expression remained a mask of controlled composure, and then back at the stranger whose eyes held an enigmatic mixture of nostalgia and bitterness. The shadowy tension between the two men seemed to weave an intricate web. In that moment, your son was caught in the crossfire of a hidden history, his young mind racing to piece together the puzzle

This stalker was Chuuya's partner? A partner is a person you are married to or are having a romantic relationship with. "Chuuya is...gay?" 

To say that Chuuya and Dazai were disgusted was an understatement. Their faces contorted into grimaces that spoke of deep-seated dislike, as though the very air between them had turned bitter with disdain. Chuuya's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and disbelief, his stance rigid with barely contained frustration. Dazai, on the other hand, wore a mask of sarcastic amusement, though even his trademark smirk was tinged with a hint of disgust.

The moment the revelation hung in the air, you felt a sudden, irrepressible twitch in your chest, like a spark igniting a blaze. It started as a small, involuntary tremor, the kind that hints at the approaching storm of laughter. Your lips twitched, struggling to maintain their composure, but the corners slowly curled upwards as if rebelling against your efforts to suppress them.

Then it burst forth—an unexpected laughter that erupted from you. Your shoulders shook, your breath came in gasping spurts, and the laughter spilled out in bright, unrestrained peals that cut through the thick air of disbelief and irritation surrounding you.

You clutched your sides, eyes crinkling with the sheer force of your amusement, while your laughter echoed through the space. Each chime of your laughter seemed to defy the seriousness of the moment.

"Only an imbecile would date this guy," Chuuya said, his voice tinged with a smile of doubtful disbelief, as if the very notion was beyond understanding. 

But then, as if struck by a sudden realization, Chuuya's expression shifted subtly. The smile faltered, and a shadow of realization crossed his features. He remembered with a jolt that, indeed, there was an imbecile who had willingly entered into that very scenario—namely, you. 

Chuuya cleared his throat, his earlier words hanging heavily in the air. The awkward silence that followed seemed to stretch endlessly, each second punctuated by the weight of his unintended confession. His face reddened slightly, and he shifted uncomfortably, searching for a way to defuse the tension he had unwittingly created.

"Look, I didn't mean—" Chuuya began, his voice faltering as he stumbled over his words. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. He glanced around at the expectant faces, the strained silence urging him to continue. "What I meant was, well, you know how I can be. Sometimes I just—"

Chuuya tried to ease the tension with a sheepish chuckle, his attempt at lightness evident in his demeanor. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting around as if searching for a way to mend the awkward silence that had followed his earlier comment.

"I guess I just got carried away," he said, his tone apologetic. "It's my way of handling things, you know? Sometimes I'm a bit too... blunt. And it's not that I think you're an imbecile or anything like that."

He sighed deeply, a hint of frustration in his voice as he searched for the right words. "I was trying to make a point, but I see now it came out completely wrong."

Chuuya's gaze fell to the floor for a moment before he looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of earnestness and apology. He offered a weak smile, hoping it would bridge the gap his words had widened. "What I wanted to say was, sometimes I just let my frustration get the better of me." 

Chuuya's voice softened, a genuine tremor of regret threading through his words. He took a small, hesitant step closer, the earnestness in his eyes reflecting the dim, flickering light of the room. The edge of his voice melted into a warm, vulnerable tone as he added sincerely, "I'm really sorry if I offended you." 

"I am totally going to die tonight, aren't I?" Chuuya muttered, a note of resigned humor in his voice. The question hung in the air, tinged with a sense of impending doom. He glanced at you once more, but your expression remained unchanged. He glanced at you once more, his eyes searching for a flicker of solace or denial, but your expression remained as inscrutable as a starless sky, unwavering and impassive.

You watched him for a moment, the clear daylight revealing every nuance of his tense expression. The corners of his eyes crinkled with worry, and his posture was stiff like he was bracing for an unseen blow. Taking a deep breath, you decided it was time to cut through the thick fog of tension.

"Chuuya," you said, your voice light and casual, "I was just messing with you."

The words floated into the air, a soft balm against the tension. Chuuya blinked, his eyes narrowing in disbelief as he processed the sudden shift. The shadows of worry that had clouded his face seemed to dissipate as he stared at you, searching for a trace of sincerity behind your playful tone.

"Messing with me?" he repeated, his voice a blend of disbelief and cautious relief. The sun caught the edge of his features, highlighting the momentary spark of realization in his eyes.

You nodded, a grin tugging at your lips as you saw the gradual shift in his demeanor. "You don't really think I'd be offended by that."

"You really had me going there," he said, a hint of amusement seeping into his voice as he glanced at the ground, almost as if embarrassed by his earlier anxiety. A slow, incredulous smile began to spread across Chuuya's face, the tension in his posture easing as he shook his head.

"Tonight?" Dazai asked in a quiet voice, his tone laced with a mix of curiosity and mild confusion. The daylight poured through the large windows, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. It seemed an odd time for plans meant for the evening, a disconnect between the brightness of day and the undertones of nocturnal intrigue.

Your son, who had been listening intently, decided it was time to add his voice to the mix. With a decisive stride, he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Chuuya, his stance exuding an air of solidarity. 

"They go out every Friday," he said, his voice steady and resolute. "They won't admit it's a date, but I know it is. This is why I was surprised when Chuuya came out as gay. I thought they liked each other."

"I am not gay. And your mother and I are not dating. We're just friends. Right?" 

"I mean, I was going to say that, but why did you?" you replied, a hint of playful annoyance in your voice. You continued, a smirk tugging at your lips, "Also, we are not friends; we are best friends."

"You—" he began, his voice edged with exasperation. Chuuya's eyes narrowed in a mix of frustration and amusement. He pointed his finger at you, his gesture emphasizing the gravity of his words. "You always focus on the wrong points."

You scoffed and pushed his hand away, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "Pointing fingers at someone is considered rude, Chuuya." 

"See," your son said, his gaze shifting towards Dazai, a note of emphasis in his voice. "They look like a couple, don't they?"

Dazai, his posture relaxed and his expression thoughtful, shook his head with a subtle, almost mysterious smile. "Not really. I think they are—"

"That was a rhetorical question," your son interjected, his tone sharp with exasperation. "I don't care about your opinion nor what you think of them as."

Dazai raised an eyebrow, momentarily thrown off balance by the directness of your son's remark. It was clear that dealing with your son's straightforwardness was proving to be a challenge. He glanced between your son and the ongoing exchange between you and Chuuya. 

You and Chuuya were still caught up in a lively exchange, the point of your bickering seemingly shifting with every passing moment. The argument had strayed far from its original point. The air was filled with a mix of laughter and exaggerated annoyance.

"What I want to know, though, is what was your place in the mafia?" your son asked, his voice carrying curiosity and determination. His gaze was unyielding, focused on Dazai with an intensity that seemed to challenge him to reveal more.

Dazai blinked, momentarily caught off guard, his tone reflecting genuine surprise mixed with a hint of amusement. His eyes twinkled with curiosity as he awaited a response. "How did you know I was in the mafia?" 

Your son's eyebrows shot up, his expression one of incredulous disbelief. It was as if he couldn't fathom how Dazai could miss the obvious. "Well, if you were not his partner in a romantic way, you must have been his partner at work."

Ah, so he picked up on that. He must have gotten his intelligence from me. Dazai smiled to himself. 

"Stop smiling, creep, and answer the question," your son demanded, his tone growing more forceful. Dazai's smile faltered slightly, though it never entirely disappeared. He sighed, leaning back against the wall with a nonchalant grace. 

"You definitely got that sass from her," he said, his voice carrying a touch of resigned amusement. "Fine, I'll be straightforward. I was an executive, but not just any executive. I was better and more important than the rest. The boss liked me the most."

"No wonder, you're as creepy as he is," your son said, his voice a blend of exasperation and dry humor. Dazai's smile remained steady, though it carried a hint of self-deprecating amusement. 

"Ah, so I've been deemed 'creepy' now," Dazai said, placing a hand over his heart with a dramatic flair. He covered his mouth with the other hand, his eyes widening in mock hurt. "It seems I've achieved a certain level of consistency."

He paused, letting the moment linger with theatrical sincerity, before adding with a playful, wounded tone, "That stung a little... Just a little bit."

Your son pulled Chuuya's hand gently but firmly, signaling a subtle yet decisive shift in the dynamics of the conversation. Chuuya, initially caught off guard by the gesture, glanced at your son with a mixture of surprise and understanding. He seemed to recognize the cue, and with a slight nod, he stopped engaging in the playful provocations.

Seeing Chuuya's reaction, you too felt the energy of the room change. The playful jabs and sarcastic remarks that had been so lively moments before now fell away, replaced by a more reflective silence.

"Let's go home," your son said, his voice carrying a blend of frustration and resignation. "As I said earlier, this stalker ruined my excitement, and you two still have a date."

"I am not a stalker!" Dazai protested his tone a mix of surprise and mock offense.

"And it's not a date!" Chuuya and you responded in unison, the harmony of your voices highlighting the shared irritation.

"Ouch," Dazai said as he passed by you, lightly hitting your shoulder with a playful grin. You felt a surprising weight in your pocket, a subtle shift that indicated he had slipped something in there. He continued to walk a few paces ahead, his steps light and casual. 

Once he was a bit further away, he turned back and called out your name with a sing-song voice, "Hey, don't forget to check your pocket!"

As you reached into your pocket, your fingers brushed against something unexpected. You pulled out a folded piece of paper, the edges slightly crinkled from being tucked away. The weight of the paper felt heavier than anticipated, suggesting it had been carefully placed there.

Unfolding it, you revealed a note and a number scrawled in Dazai's distinctive handwriting. 

"Call me, darling!" 

I love dropping a new chapter out of nowhere. <3