Chapter Text
Dazai’s early.
He’s never been early before. Usually around this time, he’s rolling around in bed, snoring until the last possible minute, and then rushing outside to meet Chuuya, before he leaves him to walk to school.
But this morning, he’d woken up too jittery to fall back asleep, which resulted in getting ready for class early, grabbing the pastries he’d bought the week before, and heading to Chuuya’s house far too early in the morning.
According to his internal Chuuya-clock, he expects the other boy to come bounding out of his house in the next three minutes, since he’s most likely finishing up their bento boxes for school.
Dazai’s mouth waters.
Their bento boxes.
Chuuya’s bentos were heavenly , probably one of the best things he’s ever had a taste of. Just another benefit of being Chuuya’s best friend — amazingly mouthwatering food from the most wonderful, prettiest person he could ever lay eyes on.
His gaze lingers on the front door, willing for it to open, and just like pure magic, it does. Chuuya pads out of his house, yawning and rubbing his eyes, his schoolbag in one hand and his sports bag tucked in the other.
Dazai’s eyes trace his every move, from locking the door behind him to ambling down the pathway to their usual meeting spot and then—
Then Chuuya stops short. He stares at Dazai unblinkingly, then rubs his eyes again and does a double take. Dazai has half a second to think before Chuuya’s skidding up to him, face only centimeters from his.
He jabs his chest hard, his mouth twitched upwards in disbelief. “Who are you? Are you actually Dazai?”
“Uh...yes?” He holds still, letting the chibi examine him from head to toe. “Who else would I be?”
“Who fucking knows,” Chuuya says absentmindedly, lifting Dazai’s arm and peering underneath, as if expecting to find…a camera? An AI chip? Dazai has no clue what he’s being searched for, but he lets the other boy pat him down. Chuuya takes a step backwards, clearly still dissatisfied.
“Seriously though. You’re early.” His eyes are narrowed, piercingly curious, and it sort of feels like he’s got a magnifying glass into Dazai’s soul. “You’re never early.”
Dazai smiles, shrugging lightly. “First time for everything?”
Chuuya scrutinizes him for a moment longer, prods his cheek once more, before his shoulders settle. “Whatever you say then. Maybe we’ll be early for once.”
Dazai falls into step next to Chuuya and their shoulders brush as he reaches into his bag and hands him a milk bread. “Got this for you.”
Chuuya stares at the bread, then back, utterly bewildered. “Who the fuck are you really?”
Dazai clutches his heart dramatically. “Chibiiiiii~! You don’t recognize me?!”
“Fuck no!” Chuuya shakes the milk bread in his face. “You show up at my door, early for once in your goddamn life, and now you’re bringing me food?! Who the hell are you?!”
“It’s me!” he wails, “Your best friend!”
“My best friend has clearly been kidnapped and replaced by a superior imposter. I just wanna know who this guy is and how I can keep him!”
Dazai pouts. “Are you saying that I’m not enough for you as I am?!”
“Yeah, you’re always late and you never bring me food. Whoever this new Dazai is, I like him.” He makes another whining noise, eliciting a snort and a smack on the arm from Chuuya. “Oh my god , you’re so ridiculous—”
“Well, maybe if you weren’t so mean all the time—“
“Hah?! You’re the one who’s an asshole, I’m the saint here!”
“Who are you calling a saint?! You call me names all the time!”
“So do you!”
Their banter keeps up all the way down the sidewalk and to the stoplight. The streets are teeming with people — students and middle aged workers alike — and their voices only get louder in the din of the crowd’s noise.
“Short stack of pancakes!”
“Clingy octopus!”
Their shoulders bump as the crowd becomes more clustered and condensed at the crosswalk and Dazai finds his hand bumping Chuuya’s as they weave towards the front of the sidewalk to wait for their light. He nudges Chuuya with his hip, smirking down slyly at him. “Don’t stray too far, mon petit~! We don’t wanna lose a tiny chibi in this massive crowd, ne~?”
His smirk only widens when Chuuya glares at him: eyes narrowed and lips pressed into an annoyed sneer. “You’re such a fucking prick.”
“C’mon chibi, I think you’re just asking to get lost in the crowd at this point—“
The light turns green and the crowd washes onto the sidewalk like ocean waves lapping at the shore. As if on instinct, Dazai’s hand reaches, and so does Chuuya’s and their pinkies meet halfway, intertwining loosely.
“Only until we reach the end of the crosswalk,” Chuuya mutters as they follow the crowd across the street.
Dazai nods and keeps his eyes ahead. “Okay chibi.”
(He really doesn’t want to let go. Even if it’s not the first time they’ve done this, Chuuya’s pinky wrapped around his still makes his skin tingle with heat. The electricity that arcs through his hand and up his arm is a somewhat new feeling, but—)
(—it’s not unwelcome in the slightest.)
They sidle onto the edge of the sidewalk together, still keeping pace with the rest of the crowd as the light turns red behind them. Neither of them make a move to let go. Dazai’s gaze drifts downward to Chuuya and his heart does a roundhouse kick against his ribs. There’s a faint blush coloring his cheeks, scant and soft, and his mouth is pursed and chewed red. His gaze is pointed firmly ahead, as if single-sighted and determined to their destination, but Dazai knows that expression on his face well enough.
It’s the one he’s seen Chuuya wear for the last several months — the one where he worries his bottom lip through endless calculations and considerations, weighing the cost. Weighing the risk.
(But Chuuya’s done enough, more than enough really. It’s Dazai’s turn to read through the lines.)
Without looking, he boldly slips his whole hand into Chuuya’s and laces their fingers together. There’s a quiet gasp next to him, but he refuses to react, only keeping his eyes straight ahead. Still though, he feels the flush creep up his neck and into his ears.
“Just until we get to school,” he says softly, squeezing his hand gently.
Chuuya squeezes back. “Until we get to school.”
The walk is quiet, borderline shy and awkward, but the weight of Chuuya’s hand is utterly perfect and it’s just about worth it.
Giddiness bursts in Dazai’s chest and he fights a smile.
He doesn’t have to hide his affection anymore. He’s holding Chuuya’s hand. He’s in love with Chuuya. And Chuuya made him lunch .
Does it get better than this? Dazai doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to ask. There’s no point in jinxing what momentary serenity he’s finally received. He can’t, shouldn’t be greedy. This is (this has to be) more than enough.
“Hey Osamu?”
“Hmm?”
Chuuya fidgets with the edge of his jacket sleeve, gaze averted, and god, it’s one of the cutest things Dazai’s ever seen.
“Thanks for showing up early. And bringing food. I really appreciated it.”
If he wasn’t holding Chuuya’s hand about now, he would’ve tripped over his own face and fallen on the floor.
“It’s no problem, chibi. No problem at all.” He peers down, heart hammering like a jackhammer. “Do you want me to do that more often?”
“What, show up early or bring food or both?” The blush fades, replaced by a playful grin. “Because both would be fucking amazing.”
Dazai rolls his eyes, but his own smile tugs at his lips. “I can guarantee one and only one, chibi. Most likely the food though~”
“Tch, I tried.”
“Waking up early is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and it’s already been used.”
That prompts a shove from Chuuya and Dazai laughs good-naturedly, twisting back to ruffle his hair. “C’mon chibi~! You know it’s true!”
“Well, then do better!”
“Nah~too much work~”
“I am going to kick the shit out of you.”
“Mon petit, you already did that—OW!”
“Ha! You deserved it!”
Dazai shakes out his leg, cringing at the sting of pain that arces up his calf. “You didn’t have to hit so hard!”
“Oops.” Chuuya shrugs, clearly feeling no sense of remorse. “My bad.”
“Kiss it better!”
“In public? No way in hell.”
Dazai whines like a kicked puppy and a hint of guilt flickers through Chuuya’s eyes, before it disappears with an eye roll.
“You’re such a baby.”
“Well, maybe we can go somewhere more private and you can—”
Chuuya yanks sharply at Dazai’s hand. “Oh look, we’re at school already.”
“CHUUYAAA!”
He snickers as they approach the gates and then promptly stops in his tracks, blinking back at Dazai. “Osamu, we’re at school now.”
“So? Just kiss me better already—“
“Our hands,” he mumbles pointedly, and Dazai pauses.
Oh. Right. They’re holding hands.
Just until we get to school.
He doesn’t want to let go. Who gives a shit if they’re holding hands? Who does it matter to? Who cares?
“Osamu, we should...”
Dazai almost complains. Almost. And then he remembers he made a promise, and well. He shuts his mouth and bites his tongue.
“Yeah. Okay. That’s fine.”
He pauses after, wondering, hoping Chuuya would change his mind, but when he doesn’t, he lets go. There’s a gentle pressure against his fingers, before it disappears entirely and Chuuya’s apart from him again.
“Let’s go,” Chuuya says softly. He’s not smiling as broadly anymore — instead, it’s melted into something tinier, barely visible on the corners of his lips.
Maybe he’s not happy about letting go either.
Dazai nods. “Right behind you, chibi.”
They walk into school together and immediately, the noise of their classmates bombards them from all sides.
Though Dazai knows his break-up with Sasaki was fairly lowkey, he can still feel the eyes on his back, the hushed murmurs as he heads for his shoe locker. How the gossip mill got ahold of the news so quickly, he will never know, but by the time he and Chuuya have sat down for homeroom, he’s pretty sure the rumor has circulated the school twice over.
Dazai-san and Sasaki-san broke up.
No one comes up to Dazai’s face to say something about it, but his classmates are damn nosy and he can hear their back-and-forth whispers in the desks surrounding his and Chuuya’s. He groans, face planting into his desk and peeking at Chuuya out of the corner of his eye.
If Chuuya’s affected by it in any way, it doesn’t show.
He’s happily holding a conversation with Tachihara about something or other, and thankfully, Tachihara’s not sending him any sort of death stares or dirty glances. At least that’s one person who isn’t shitting on him behind his back. Probably.
Just then, the door to their classroom slides open, and a group of chattering girls amble in, mixed from their class and the other classes and silence falls over the room as the dark- haired girl in the center pauses at the threshold.
Sasaki.
Dazai sucks in a breath and Chuuya looks up from his conversation. He can visibly see his best friend’s shoulders tighten at the sight of Sasaki at the door.
“Chuuya—“ he starts quietly, but then Sasaki’s eyes land on Dazai, cold and neutral, and he freezes in the frost of it. They stare each other down and it’s like the entire room has their breaths held.
(And Dazai feels genuine fear, because what if she talks to him? What could she possibly want to say? Forget that, why is she even here?)
(And how would Chuuya take it?)
He’s spared from further consideration, because Sasaki doesn’t say a word as she pivots on her heel and strides out the door without another word.
The tension snaps like a rubber band and chatter fills the room again, the whispers a little more frantic and excited than before. There is absolutely zero doubt the brief encounter would be spread across the school like wildfire within the next two periods.
Dazai sighs again. Fuck, he really just wants to grab Chuuya and go home, away from all the rumors and whispers, away from Sasaki and her shitty dramatic entrances.
“You alright, mackerel?” Chuuya’s kneeling by his desk, irises bright with concern. “Do you need anything?”
God, a hug would be really nice.
He manages a weak smile and a thumbs up. “I’m fine, thanks Chibikko. Don’t worry about me.”
Chuuya makes a face and swats him lightly. “You know that makes me worry more, idiot.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Well I know you can handle it. But let me help you sometimes, okay? I’m your best friend.”
“Yeah, I know, it’s just—” He tugs at his hair helplessly. “I was expecting to see her and all, but it’s still so frustrating when I see her. And on top of hearing people talk about it—“
“Alright, settle down class! I’ll be taking roll!” The teacher strides in on the dot as the bell rings and Dazai buries his face into his desk, swearing irritably into his arms.
“Forget about it,” he mutters and he can feel Chuuya’s eyes on him for a heartbeat, before Chuuya whispers, “Meet me at lunch.”
Dazai counts the minutes.
It’s agonizing because he never realized how long classes were (he’s always messing around with Chuuya in them, so it seems to fly by), but with more than one pair of eyes on him every second, it’s hard for him to focus on his usual antics.
God, he wants so badly to go home right now with Chuuya and just curl up in bed and forget the world. Just like he always does when he has issues. It comes to mind then, how much he depends on Chuuya for everything and—
“Wanna distract me, chibi?”
God, that seemed like a whole lifetime ago. (Chuuya’s always been around for him, listening and helping and just staying, being there and Dazai just wishes—)
A crumpled ball of paper lands on his desk. He peeks over at Chuuya, who’s very obviously pretending not to look, and then unwraps it.
‘You good? You seem like you’re out of it.’
His heart swells twice its size in his chest. Chuuya’s always been too good for him.
He scribbles back: ‘Fine, don’t worry about it, chibi.’
It lands back on Chuuya’s desk and the other boy’s nose visibly wrinkles at the reply. He directs a glower at Dazai, one that reads ‘you are clearly not fine’ and he shrugs in reply.
Chuuya huffs and writes back. ‘Dumbass. Hold out for a bit longer, we’re almost to lunch and I got a surprise for you.’
Dazai smiles at the note and nods back at his best friend, before he stuffs the note into his pocket and folds his arms onto the desk, tuning out the lecture.
Chuuya really is his angel in disguise, isn’t he?
The bell rings for lunch and the minute Dazai has his bag packed, Chuuya’s hand is on his wrist and he’s dragging him out the door.
“C’mon, we’re going,” he says abruptly. “And don’t look at anyone when we go, okay?” Chuuya cranes his head back and his eyes are steady, focused. “Just look at me.”
Now that , Dazai can do.
“Okay. Okay, whatever you say.”
Chuuya nods, looking incredibly satisfied with himself. “Good. Now let's hurry before the break ends.”
Contrary to his words, it really is difficult to keep his eyes only on Chuuya.
Students are scattered down the length of the hall and it’s like every eye is on them as they walk past. Not to mention the hushed whispers too, and it takes everything in Dazai not to look.
He hears bits and pieces of the rumors, the ones that wonder about the break up, the ones that ask who instigated it, the ones that make up lies and spread the rumors, knowing full well they aren’t true. And it makes him want to turn around and retell the story properly, but the squeeze of Chuuya’s hand is a silent reminder—
They’re not worth the time.
So he doesn’t stop. He keeps his eyes on Chuuya, no matter how much he wants to look away, and he lets his best friend guide him up several flights of stairs and to a darkened hallway.
“Are we going to the roof?” he asks curiously.
Chuuya shrugs lightly, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “You know me too well.”
“And you always know where to take me when I’m upset, so...” Dazai grips Chuuya’s hand tighter. “Thanks.”
I love you, he thinks helplessly, ruinously.
“Anything for you,” he replies, and it’s so nonchalant, so easy that it aches.
(How does Chuuya do that? How does he wear his heart on his sleeve so fearlessly? How can he say these things and make Dazai’s heart pound like nothing else?)
Chuuya pushes open the door to the rooftop and the sunlight is utterly blinding.
It’s clear today, cloudless blue skies and the sun overhead like their own personal spotlight. It’s a little breezy too, up against the edge of the rooftop, and they drop their belongings right next to the edge.
Though Dazai’s never much liked heights (he doesn’t mind them per se, but he finds himself not avidly adoring them either), he finds himself strangely at peace, staring out to the city below. It used to bring a bit of anxiety, being up so high, but now, there’s only tranquility as he seats himself next to Chuuya and accepts the bento box handed to him.
(He sort of sees why Chuuya likes it up here — his best friend loves being so high up and able to see the world stretched beyond, as far as the eye could see. Endless horizon and city, just another set of eternities to explore.)
“Did Chuuya pack me anything good?” he hums, prying open the lid (he knows Chuuya did — Chuuya’s been making his lunches since they were in junior high).
“Oi, watch it,” Chuuya warns, voice muffled from the food stuffed into his mouth. “Or I’ll literally make you the crappiest bento ever.”
It’s an empty threat. For all of Chuuya’s teasing and playful warnings, he very rarely goes through with them, and they both know it. Still, he makes them anyway, like it’ll cow Dazai into shutting his trap sometimes. (Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t.)
“But Chuuya~! All your bentos are crappy—!”
“Then I guess I’ll be taking this then,” Chuuya says loftily, reaching for the container.
Dazai snatches it away before he can. “Except for this bento! It was clearly made by a superior Chuuya, not the chibi sitting next to me—“
“I will end your ass so hard, do not fucking test me.” Chuuya flicks him in the face, mouth still stuffed with food and Dazai rolls his eyes, smiling.
“Yes, yes, thank you for the food, chibi. It’s greatly appreciated.”
Chuuya shakes his head fondly. “You’re welcome, idiot. Oh and—” He turns away, digging into his backpack and pulls out a plastic container with a wobbling pudding inside. “Last one at my house. I thought we could share it.”
He offers it up to Dazai, eyes shining hopefully and he can’t help it.
He wraps his arms around Chuuya, pulling him flush to his chest, and the smaller boy makes a small squeak of surprise.
“Dazai—!”
“You are my angel, I hope you know that.”
“I literally brought you a pudding to share,” Chuuya deadpans, but he’s on the verge of laughter. Sweet, choked off giggles cloud his voice like fog draping over a forest and it’s the damned cutest thing he’s heard all day.
“Still my angel,” Dazai mutters into his hair. “Are you gonna feed me too?”
He’s only half-joking, but Chuuya pulls out a spoon and tilts his head to the side. “I mean, do you want me to? If it distracts you from...” He waves a hand towards the door, “whatever they’re saying out there, then yeah, I’ll feed you.”
It’s so genuine. Dazai is going to pass away.
Chuuya is an earth angel, truly. A blessing from the heavens, a gift to all Dazai-kind.
“Y-Yeah, that would...” God, he really is about to pass out. “That would be great, yeah.”
Chuuya beams up at him, looking so adorably pleased and he scoots closer, shifting so that he’s on his knees. “You’re gonna have to bend down, so I can feed you — and not a word about my damn height or I’ll stab you in the eye with my spoon.”
Dazai’s actually way too dazed to even consider making another height joke, but he nods anyway and chokes when Chuuya clambers into his lap and spoons out a piece of the pudding.
“Open up, shitty mackerel,” he says sharply.
He stares at the spoon, at the wobbling pudding on the curved silver, and then straight ahead. Chuuya’s cheeks are flushed the same shade of sakuras, of cotton candy from summer night matsuri and his eyes are shiny, bright — reflective of the incoming summer skies above, of the clouds that huff and puff in the bright afternoon in the backdrop of their cinema. His hand quivers centimeters from Dazai’s mouth and oh.
He might just be as nervous as Dazai, if not more.
(Is he thinking of how perfectly he’s propped up in Dazai’s lap, how domestic the scene is? Is he thinking of inching the spoon five centimeters to the side and pressing his mouth against Dazai’s instead? Does he hear the pound of Dazai’s veins under his skin, hear the sticky staccato of his heart thrumming in time with the blood rush in his ears? Does he think about the way Dazai fits in his arms?)
(Does he think about Dazai at all?)
“Osamu,” he murmurs, candy floss light and summer breeze gentle, “C’mon, stupid.”
His free hands finds purchase in Dazai’s, slowly thumbing over his knuckles with all the care of handling a baby bird and it’s there that Dazai leans in, tonguing over the pudding. The gelatin melts into his mouth, sweet, caramelized, and his heart sticks to his chest like candy.
Chuuya stares at him, eyes wide and spoon still hovering near Dazai’s face. His cheeks have gone from sakura pink to a proper cherry lollipop red. “I—you—”
Dazai wraps a hand around Chuuya’s still lifted wrist, his index and middle fingers pressing into his pulse point. “Thanks, Chuuya. Really. For everything.”
I love you, he thinks instead. I adore you, I need you, I love you, I want you.
Chuuya’s wide gaze gentles, softens into that of clouds, of hopeful summer, and a something that—well. Something that Dazai recognizes in the way he grips Chuuya’s wrist, something that he sees reflected back at himself when he looks into a mirror. Something that he wants desperately, craves like he needs the air to breathe, and yet—
Doesn’t deserve. Not yet, anyway.
The creases of Chuuya’s eyes are downturned, the lines of his smile peeking through his sun-freckled cheeks and worn, late night studying eyebags. He looks at Dazai in the way one would share a secret from across the room. Like they have a long-standing affair that Dazai’s only coming around to. He looks at Dazai like he knows. That he does know. That he can whisper the secrets of Dazai’s heart without having asked.
Chuuya’s mouth hovers, centimeters away from his. It would be so easy to lean in, to lick the caramel and burnt sugar off his lips, to take what’s his.
What’s been his from the very start.
But Chuuya sits back on his haunches, sliding off Dazai’s lap and his eyes glitter with mirth, as he can read the hungry, rampant thoughts that screen across his face.
“Idiot,” Chuuya says fondly, flicking his nose. “You never need to ask. Not with me.”
“Yeah?” Dazai grins at him, all cheek. “You’d let me?”
“Like I don’t already,” he returns dryly, but there’s no bone, no heat in the underlayer of it all.
He spoons more of the pudding and shovels it into his mouth. The hot ruddiness of his cheeks have yet to dissipate and Dazai leans back his hands, watching as his best friend licks around the spoon for residue sugar. It could be this easy, every day.
(It’s always been this easy, he realizes belatedly. It’s just that Dazai’s never known to look. Not until he grabbed the verifiably metaphoric bull by the horns and looked it in the eye, just to see what’s been there all along.)
“Feed me more~! Chuu~ ya~!”
“Eww, keep your gross, sticky hands off my pudding!”
“But you said you’d share!”
“You had one damn bite, you fucking leech!”
Dazai locks his arms from the back of Chuuya as he scrambles away, barking profanities at him in between choked out laughter, and he dips his face into the sweet scent of his hair, a smile pressed permanently onto his lips like a tattoo.
“Off, Osamu!”
Chuuya elbows him and Dazai smirks right into his face as the smaller boy loses balance and falls right into his lap once again. Attention diverted, he makes a grab for the pudding cup in his hands, snatching up the cup and spoon to slip another bite into his mouth. Chuuya hisses, outraged and their eyes meet as he swallows thoughtfully.
“Tastes a little sluggier after you’ve had it, hmm…”
“FUCK OFF! Give it back then!”
“Nah!”
Dazai tips the cup over his lips and pours the rest of it into his mouth as Chuuya knocks him down bodily, snickers escaping his throat as he jabs his fingers into Dazai’s abdomen and tickles. He shrieks, dropping the cup and throwing his head back, gasping for air.
“L-Let go—!”
“You fucker, you ate the rest of it!”
Dazai tips his head back to the sky as Chuuya wiggles his fingers up and down his stomach, choking on his laughter that sings up to the blue skies overhead.