Chuuya tries not to think about how the path feels so familiar. He tries not to think about how the last time Dazai had traced that line, it had been with his hands and followed with his lips.

The brush continues up, and stops at the base of his throat. He swallows hard, and

he swears he hears Dazai's breath hitch. The brush leaves his skin, but he feels a slight prick where the tip of it is pressing into the bottom of his chin and making him tilt his head back, smearing the paint on his face and hair onto the backdrop.

"I'm just going to trace your neck," Dazai mutters, and the brush continues up over his neck, and under his jaw, and Chuuya is having a really hard focusing because all he thinks about are the flashes of Dazai's hand in his hair, pulling at the strands and forcing his head back

~ NSFW ish ~

so he could kiss up Chuuya's throat and along his jaw. He thinks about the last time they did that, and how he rode Dazai's fingers and pumped Dazai's length -- he blinked.

He was not here to get horny. He was here to *talk*... both of which he was failing at.

"Dazai?" he just barely managed to catch himself from moving his head.

"Hmm?"

Chuuya grit his teeth as he feels the brush whisper behind his ear. "I miss you."

The brush pauses. "...what?"

He can see Dazai's shadow leaning over him in his periphery, but he refuses to make

eye contact, so he keeps staring straight ahead towards his outstretched hand.

"I miss you," he repeats. "And maybe I shouldn't, but... I miss you anyways."

He feels Dazai shift from leaning over him to sit back on his knees.

"Is that why you're here?"

Chuuya swallows hard. He knows he's not supposed to move, but he can only manage to make himself nod. "I don't expect anything, honestly...so if you've moved on, it's ok, but I just thought that it wasn't fair of me to expect you to share things when

I wouldn't, so I'm here... trying... I guess."

He's actually really glad that he's covered in paint right now because otherwise he knows his face would be bright red.

Silence follows, and it's so fuc/king awkward, Chuuya regrets bringing it up in the first place. He shouldn't

have done this. Now he's just lying in this awkward pose, starting to cramp, covered in paint, and feeling like his nerves are about to explode from the sheer amount of regret coursing through him.

"I'm just going to set up the camera to take the inital photos," Dazai says

as he abruptly stands.

*Perfect,* Chuuya thinks.

Now he's *really* afraid of what that camera suspended above him (like some weird po/rn set up) is going to capture.

He can't help but snort at the thought that maybe Dazai is just painting the words pathetic or loser on him.

At least if that were the case, he could be pis/sed at someone instead of hurt. He stiffens his back and subtly tilts his jaw in an effort to not look like he's not embarassed.

"Do I just lie here?" Chuuya asks.

"Yes, Chuuya. Just lie there,"

comes the reply that's actually quite far away.

The flash goes off, and even though Chuuya isn't looking directly at it, he still sees spots when he blinks.

Now he really hopes that they are almost done. He knows he could back out at any time, but Chuuya is not a quiter and

he told Dazai he would do it, so damnit he was going to finish this.

And if Dazai was going to pretend he never said anything then so was he.

When Dazai returns, he sits down in front of Chuuya. He dips his brush in some bright yellow paint and traces it down Chuuya's arm.

He gently picks up the hair curled against Chuuya's shoulder.

"I missed you too," he finally says, though its stated as more like a fact rather than something he means. He doesn't look at Chuuya as he leans over him and fiddles with his hair. "And I appreciate you trying."

He runs his fingers through the strands and adds a few more dots of paint. Chuuya is now sure Dazai's doing it to be a dick, because he traces the brush around Chuuya's nipple and it makes goosebumps rise along his flesh.

He scoots back and holds up a little remote.

He presses the button and the shutter clicks again.

"Please don't get me wrong, because I do want you -- I want you so bad that it hurts," he says as he scoots into the frame again and fixes something else. He has Chuuya move his arms and legs to a different position.

"But it won't work." He says the last part quietly.

Chuuya frowns. "It won't work or you don't want to make it work?"

Dazai pauses. "I don't know," he replies.

Chuuya grinds his teeth and he tells himself it doesn't matter. He came here expecting the worst, so he should have

been prepared.

The shutter clicks again, and he wants to get up and leave, but instead he opts for something else. If Dazai was so adept at reading people through his art then maybe Chuuya could make him understand.

"You owe me a picture," Chuuya says, and he's glad his voice is steady.

Dazai's brows pull down. "Oh... of course you'll get a copy of anything you want."

Chuuya shakes his head, and sits up, without a care that he's messing up Dazai's 'art'. "No, you owe me a picture."

"I don't kno... oh." The meaning clicks. "Are you going to paint me?" And Dazai is enough of a jerk that he smiles.

Chuuya shakes his head. "No, I'm freezing and I want to go home."

Dazai raises a brow. "You realise painting someone is part of what makes this art so compelling

and evocative right?"

Chuuya narrows his brows at the hoity toity, artsy vocabulary. "Then what I'm asking for shouldn't be a problem from you. Come on what's one picture? For me."

Dazai pauses. "All right, whatever you want, Chibi. Where do you want me?"

That was a valid question and Chuuya hadn't thought that far so he just vaguely motions to the spot beside him.

Dazai sits and in order for them to both fit on the canvas, it's actually pretty tight. Chuuya plucks the remote from Dazai's hand and motions for him to lie down

beside him so they are facing eachother. Chuuya thinks about snapping the photo, but he has a feeling, Dazai is literally going to give him one photo, and he isn't sure if this feels like much of anything.

Dazai raises a brow. "What's the matter?" he asks and they are close

enough that his breath ghosts over Chuuya's lips. Chuuya would like to say it didn't affect him, but Dazai up close up was always his favourite. From here he could see the different shades of brown in his irises the faint scar running through his brow from when he lost a battle

against a seesaw in elementary.

It hurts that to know that Dazai doesn't want to try to make them work, because Chuuya would have really liked to have seen this view everyday. He raises his free hand gently touches Dazai's face, leaving behind a smear of colourful, fiery paint

Dazai's eyes flutter shut, and he puts his hand over Chuuya's . He looks so sad in that moment, and it's not fair, but Chuuya knows they've always been more complicated than anything. He starts to lean in, slowly and so that Dazai has lots of time to pull away if he wants to.

When he presses their lips together, it's really not about the picture anymore. He forgets about the remote in his hand, and button gets pushed as he threads his other hand into Dazai's hair. The shutter goes off, and Dazai stiffens, and Chuuya expects him to immediately shove

him away, but instead he pulls Chuuya in closer; wraps his arms around him tighter. His nails dig into the skin on Chuuya's back and drag through the cool slick paint, leaving lines of white skin on display.

Chuuya drops the remote, he doesn't know when or where, because he

wants to touch with both his hands. He's drawing Dazai in, and slightly rocking them to sneak his legs around Dazai's waist.

Distantly he hears the shutter click again, but Dazai is rolling them, and his weight is familiar and they've always fit together like puzzle pieces, and

moved together like dancers.

He was going to miss that, and he realised it was going to be a terrible decision to keep going longer. Possibly for his dignity too because if they kept going he was probably going to end up asking just HOW body safe this paint truly was, and then

Dazai would probably make a ridiculous comment, and Chuuya would laugh...

And if Chuuya was being honest he didn't feel like laughing. He was doing this, he had started it, it had felt right, but his heart was also breaking. This felt amazing, but it also wasn't enough and how

was he supposed to look at himself in the mirror -- look at these photos -- and not remember that?

As if sensing his hesitation Dazai stopped. He didn't pull away, but he seperated their lips and rolled them so they were back on their sides.

The shutter went off again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against Chuuya's hair.

"Yeah...me too."

____

It took Dazai a week before he could bring himself to look at the photos. Chuuya had left him his e-mail when he'd finally left that night but he didn't seem very keen on receiving the photos.

"If you end up deciding to sell one, maybe just let me know?" was all he said.

This was all a mess.

If Dazai hadn't been missing Chuuya before, he defintely was now. It wasn't fair of him to kiss Chuuya back, but it was impossible to pull away. He really just wanted Chuuya to find someone who would be able to make him happy.

He closed his office door, but he didn't want anyone else to see the photos just yet. He wanted to be the first.

The photos of Chuuya had turned out exactly as Dazai had hoped. His choice to show Chuuya has something made from flames had been a wise choice. His hair was a

perfect blend to match and though Dazai had posed him curled in on himself with an arm outstretch as if seeking for a lifeline, it did nothing to lessen who Chuuya was.The stubborn tilt to his jaw and the strong line of his shoulders contrasted strongly against the black backdrop

But it was the other photos that hit him in the gut and that wouldn't let him go. He scrolled through the images of him and Chuuya together. Dazai in his plain, black clothes and Chuuya looking like a vibrant source of life. In the first photo, Dazai looked out of place: stiff

and lifeless. In the second he had splatters of colour on him from where ever Chuuya had touched him.

The third photo was a blur of movement and brightly coloured limbs against black clothes.

The last photo was of them lying there, and it was almost a mirror of the first, but this time Dazai's body was molded around the other man and he looked so much more pliant and flexible. Whether Chuuya had touched him or kissed him, there was a vibrant smear of paint and colour.

Despite the circumstances that followed, they both looked at peace in the image. Arms locked around each other and Chuuya's legs were hooked on either side of Dazai's waist. Whisps of paint seemed to trail off the end of his feet from when he must have dragged them on the canvas.

It was a beautiful effect, but it made it look like smoke, and there was something about that that didn't sit right with Dazai. He didn't want his and Chuuya's relationship to disappear like smoke. It was sort of a terrible realisation that if this was the route they went down,

That's all they would be for each other.

He swallowed hard. Was he really ready to give his relationship up? He'd been so sure that he wasn't enough, but Chuuya had also been so sure that he wouldn't like what he saw when Dazai painted him, yet he still tried.

He looked at the images again and the symbolism wasn’t lost on him. Chuuya was wrapped around him, overwhelming Dazai is colour and leaving traces of it behind. Dazai didn’t miss the way his body language was different in the photos where Chuuya was touching him. The way he

seemed lighter and warmer. He looked at the images again, scrutinized their details, and realised that maybe this what Chuuya when he asked if Dazai was willing to make it work. Maybe it wasn’t about making a sudden change or expecting Dazai to suddenly have all the answers and

the proper words to fix them.

Before he had even realised it, he had printed the photo and shoved it into an envelope. He left in a rush and didn’t think, because he may back out if he thought too hard.

When he reached the familiar condo, he took out the image and knocked on

the door.

“Dazai?”

Chuuya stood on the other side, brows knitted and hair thrown up in his signature messy bun.

Dazai all but shoved the photo at him. He felt breathless and weak, and his nerves were fried and his thoughts were racing a mile a minute. He felt ill prepared.

Chuuya looked down at the photo of in his hand, Dazai wasn’t sure what was going through his head, Dazai didn’t miss the way he barely glanced at it before he frowned.

“This is nice,” he said, and Dazai could see his throat working. “Maybe it’s my favourite one yet.”

He went to hand the photo back, but Dazai shook his head.

“I want this,” he said, gently pushing the photo back at Chuuya.

“What do you mean?” Chuuya asked. “I already signed the release form, you can use the picture.”

“No, I mean...” Dazai trailed off.

Chuuya just continued to stare at him blankly. “I know I asked for the picture but ...I don’t want money... or anything,” he looked down at the image. It was even more awful then he’d thought.

The picture was beautiful, but Chuuya didn’t like that it was him. He didn’t like the way he was wrapped around Dazai, as if he was clinging onto him. The longing was clear in the lines of his body and frankly it was humiliating to have it staring up at him so blatantly.

There was no way Dazai missed it and that knowledge was made even worse by Dazai standing in front of him, and making him feel like the vulnerability was a joke.

Regret was bitter and Chuuya should have listened to his gut. He hated what was staring back at him.

“Look,” Chuuya started as he tried to hand the photo back and he rubbed his neck. “I’m just trying to say you don’t owe me anything for it, you know?”

Dazai shook his head. “No. No... that’s not why I’m here.” He pushed the photo back, but didn’t take his hand away.

He keeps his palm on Chuuya's wrist.

"Chuuya... I want to try." He repeats the words that Chuuya said to him while he was laid out on Dazai's canvas covered in paint and trusting Dazai with a part of himself that not many got to see.

He slowly meets Chuuya's eyes. "It's not going to be perfect, but I think we are experts at the imperfect." He laughs softly. "But I'll willing to put the leg work in and show you."

Chuuya just stares at him. "Are you serious right now?"

Dazai nods. "Yeah...I want to try again, Chuuya. If you'll let me," he takes a deep breath. "And I really hope you'll let me."

Chuuya purses his lips and looks down at his feet. "We are pretty shi/tty at the whole perfect thing."

Dazai can hear the smile in his voice.

When he looks up again, Dazai can tell he's fighting the urge to grin.

"We really are." Dazai laughs and some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

Chuuya shakes his head before he grabs Dazai's shirt and pulls him down. Their lips meet, and it's completely different

from their last kiss. This time it's hard and fast, and it's all encompassing. Chuuya is pulling Dazai into his apartment, and their hands are roaming over eachother's bodies, like they had never stopped, and it's so familiar and warm.

Pulling back for a moment, Chuuya grins.

"Lets try to do better this time though, yeah?"

// END

FINALLY jfc. Thank you if you made it this far!! I really appreciate everyone's kind words and support for this thread

(A/N NSFW : Skk then proceeds rip off each other's clothes and have hot make up wall s*x because they are horny fukers and can't even make it to the bedroom.)