Chapter Text
Chuuya managed to save a life today.
Granted he was the one putting said life in danger but that was beyond the point.
The shitty hospital supply closet of a man ended up in the same class as him.
“Kunikida”
Fucking fantastic.
“-ere”
As if that wasn’t bad enough, they were seated together because the teacher seemed to think Chuuya was enjoying the company.
“-here.”
This teacher must be delusional.
“Nakahara?”
“…”
Honestly he must be insane. Mr.- Well Chuuya didn’t actually know his name yet…
“-ahara!”
A very cold jab hit his ribs. Chuuya looked up to see the bandaged bumblefuck staring at him. The guy had eyes so deep a brown they shone red.
Not that Chuuya was looking.
“Get your ugly ass hand the fuck away from me!” Chuuya’s own voice cut through his thoughts. Unfortunately his thoughts didn’t seem to be the only ones interrupted given the silent room and glaring eyes. Chuuya should definitely work on his volume control.
“Nakahara I presume?”
Well shit. Fuck shit, oh fucking shit.
That definitely sounded like the teacher.
“Yes sir?” Chuuya questioned, seeming almost shy.
“Do you have any problems sitting here?”
Yes, the toilette roll wannabe sharing his desk was quite the problem.
“I can move you somewhere else if sitting next to Dazai isn’t working,”
Dazai. His name must be Dazai. A shitty name fit for a shitty man.
Stupid Dazai looked at him with his stupidly amused brown-red eyes.
What was he laughing about? Why was Dazai smirking all of a sudden? Why -oh Chuuya hadn’t answered the teacher's question yet. Again.
Fuck
This better not become a habit.
“I think I’ll manage.” Chuuya finally managed to cough up between gritted teeth.
This only served to amuse Dazai more. That fucking lunatic.
But this wasn’t about Dazai; Chuuya had a good view of the whiteboard from here, and he was far enough in the front that he could still see, but also not so far up that he was in the first row and under constant scrutiny of the teacher
So you see, Chuuya needed to stay for the seat.
“Alright class it’s time we get started!”
The teacher clapped his hands all enthusiastically.
“My name is Mr. Sakunosuke,” He announced, scribbling said name on the white board. “I will be your Home-room and History teacher.” He paused to look around the classroom, his eyes hesitated at Dazai and Chuuya’s table before continuing. “I look forward to teaching you all this year.”
Unlike the two teachers Chuuya was already acquainted with, he spoke honestly and calmly. Both Verlaine and Rimbaud were nothing like Sakunosuke; they went about their jobs terrorizing students with pop quizzes and neglecting students by making them watch documentaries respectfully.
“Pssst, Nakahara! Pssst!” Dazai whisper-shouted while not-so sneakily nudging Chuuya with a pointy elbow.
How would Chuuya be able to put up with a year of this?
“What?!”
“Can I borrow a pencil?”
Chuuya eyed the pencil case on Dazai’s side of the table. The dipshit clearly didn’t need a fucking pencil.
“No.”
“But Nakahara, how am I supposed to get work done without a pencil?” The brat draped himself dramatically over Chuuya.
“How am I supposed to get work done with you trying to suffocate me?!”
“But you’re so comfortable.” Dazai whined while having the audacity to smirk and throw more of his weight on Chuuya. Asshole.
A bandaged hand slithered away from its resting place on Chuuya’s shoulder towards his pencil case.
“You have your own pencil case, you bandage-wasting bastard!”
The rest of the class continued on like this with Mr. Sakunosuke seeming to purposefully turn a blind eye towards Dazai’s shitty pencil stealing antics.
- - - - - - - - -
After Chuuya’s (traumatizing) history class he was finally released for lunch. Thank god. Now for some well awaited peace and quiet.
He made it one step into the cafeteria before someone swerved straight towards him.
“Chuuya!”
“Tachihara?” He replied because, really he had to- Tachihara worked for his sister's cafe with him after all.
“Come sit with us! I can finally introduce you to my friends!” Tachihara beamed. It was honestly almost blinding. Chuuya had heard about Tachihara’s friends through shared shifts at the cafe. There was Ryu-something Akutagawa- he was an emo fuck, and the emo fucks younger sister Rum or Gin, something alcoholic, and the last one- Higuchi, although Tachihara didn’t talk about her much.
Since Chuuya was new he had absolutely nothing to lose by sitting with them.
“Yeah, okay.” He answered, following her.
Finally he could sit without having to look at Dazai’s stupid face. -Oh he forgot his fucking lunch in the classroom. How damn annoying.
“I’ll be right over, I just need to get my lunch.” Chuuya called over his shoulder, heading for the door.
Which classroom was his?
Fuck this school is built like a maze.
It took almost twenty minutes to get there but he was pretty sure this was the right room.
That’s odd, everyone was meant to be in the cafeteria so why could he hear someone talking?
If he tried he could probably make out some words.
“… is back home… really angry… can’t stay there…”
“… sorry Dazai…”
Okay maybe Chuuya could skip eating lunch today.
He all but sprinted back to the cafeteria with no packed lunch in hand.
- - - - - - - -
The last class of the day. It took way too long to get here. Chuuya might’ve only been here a day but it felt like forever.
“Good afternoon class.” A loud, confident voice drawled.
Oh no.
“Welcome to your first English class of the year!” The teacher continued, undeterred by Chuuya’s unease.
Please don’t be who he thinks it is.
“My name is Paul Verlaine, but you can address me as Mr. Verlaine.”
It fucking is. Of fucking course.
“Show of hands; how many of you read the assigned reading?” Verlaine paused to count. “About half, not bad,” The motherfucker looks Chuuya dead in the eyes. “Anyone care to explain the book to the rest of your peers?”
Chuuya held eye contact and positively seethed.
An unexpected hand shot up.
Even more shockingly, it belonged to Dazai of all people.
“Go ahead…” Verlaine looked at the attendance sheet briefly “Dazai.”
“The assigned book, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, is objectively about a grieving scientist who chooses to create life in a sad attempt to satiate his need for his deceased mother.” Dazai spokewell in front of an audience. Verlaine seemed to think so too as he allowed Dazai to ramble on for fifteen minutes.
Dazai continued: “The life he creates is not as humane as Dr. Frankenstein had hoped. Frankenstein claims to have created a monster, one that is stronger than most humans and driven by vengeance.”
He goes on, flipping through pages in his book all of which are marked with yellow torn apart sticky-notes.
“What I see in the story is Dr. Frankenstein becoming more of a monster. One who viewed himself as a god with powers of life and death but has been violently humbled through circumstance.” He concludes looking much too smug.
“I agree with your main points but-“ Verlaine cut short because Chuuya decided it was his turn to take the stage.
“The story is about the corruption of humanity. How a human man like Victor and his equally human creation can be driven to such extremes!” Chuuya is beyond ready for an argument with Dazai at this point.
“The monster was never human. He was created as an experiment. He was a monster from the beginning and spiraled further into villainy over the plot.” Dazai hurled back his points, equally prepared to fight.
“What does it mean to be human? The creature has his own consciousness and moral system. He deserved a loving family since the start and-“
A loud bang of a book hitting a table echoed through the room.
“Both of you make great points, and both of you are right in a sense. Chuu- Nakahara brought up a great question: What does it mean to be human? …”
“Nakahara~”
Maybe if Chuuya didn’t reply Dazai would go away?
“Hey, Nakahara!” This time Dazai whisper-shouted.
“What is it this time?” Chuuya snapped.
“Is your brain as small as the rest of you?”
“Huh?!” It might not have been a well worded response but he was caught off guard by Dazai’s question.
“Victor was as much a monster as the one he created but that doesn’t mean the creature was human-”
“Dazai! Nakahara! Please refrain from interrupting my class! both of you go outside if you can’t pay attention in here!” Verlaine just became Chuuya’s least favorite sibling.
He didn’t deserve this walk of shame. Chuuya couldn’t believe that bastard Dazai had ruined his day once again.
Dazai opened the classroom door while making a show of holding it open to allow Chuuya to exit first.
Chuuya really really wanted to punch him.