Chapter Text
Tsushima Shuuji’s family can’t be said to be perfectly idyllic, but it’s impossible to call it terrible by any means. A pair of hardworking parents, a reliable older brother, a spacious mansion, a surname that has many connections.
…But there are things that happen regardless of one’s childhood environment. Tsushima Shuuji doesn’t find any particular meaning or joy in living. His parents and older brother are too busy with keeping the Tsushima name above the rest, and so Tsushima Shuuji ends up under the care of a certain doctor.
One afternoon, roughly fifteen years ago, Tsushima Shuuji tags along with Mori Ougai on a work trip that brings them south. And it is there that Tsushima Shuuji has a fleeting but impactful meeting with someone so energetic, that not even being hospitalized could dull his brilliance.
Even when time marches onward, even when he ends up shedding his old name and taking up a new one, even when he meets people he could call his friends, even when he is now known for exceeding expectations as Mori’s protégé, even when that red-haired fairy doesn’t remember that extremely brief meeting at all—
Dazai Osamu has always kept Nakahara Chuuya in his thoughts.
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And so, a day before he turns thirty, Dazai’s mind works overtime to connect some puzzle pieces together.
If he claims to be the person who’s ranked second at understanding Chuuya’s behavior, there shouldn’t be anyone who’d dare claim to be first. Dazai keeps tabs on the other man’s actions, utilizing an entire information network. They couldn’t be said to be close—in fact, they mix as well as oil and water. But even when they’re at each other’s throats, Chuuya has never been the sort to back down. Certainly not the type to avoid eye contact. Definitely not the type to shy away from grabbing him by the lapels to shake him.
However, ever since a few weeks ago, Chuuya has been oddly… avoidant. It’s not noticeable to an untrained eye, but Dazai is anything but that. He’s kept the other man in his mind for more than a decade—if he can’t even notice such a thing, then all those years are for naught.
But he’s stumped on the cause of that sudden avoidance.
Ango’s suggestion is that Chuuya’s finally had enough of his antagonism. He blocks Ango for a week after that, only unblocking him after OdaSaku asks him to. His friends then suggest that he try to be more civil and mature in their conversations, even when his instincts want to keep on poking at the other’s sore points in order to garner a reaction.
He’s been racking his brains for the past month, trying to find an actual explanation. It’s only now that it clicks. He focuses his thoughts and asks inside his head, “…Chuuya, can you… actually hear my thoughts?”
At point-blank distance, even the most composed person can’t hide their reaction from him. Chuuya stiffens in his seat.
Oh, bullseye.
And then—
—so does this mean that Chuuya hears his thoughts each time he thinks about him?
Dazai can’t claim to be an expert in martial arts, but he does have a good command of his own body. Which is why, it’s entirely uncharacteristic, and completely beyond his control, for him to accidentally choke on air, upon realizing that all his thoughts have been possibly laid bare in front of the person he’s been thinking of the most.
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Chuuya’s not even sure how they managed to finish that negotiation with Dostoevsky. It’s as if his entire skull has been stuffed with cotton, his thoughts stagnating as his body refuses to register his surroundings. At first, he suspects that this ‘superpower’ has a mechanism that backfires on itself in case the ‘target’ ends up realizing that their thoughts are being read.
Then again, it’s a lot more likely that he’s just cursed.
The idea that Dazai could even manage to accurately pinpoint the exact explanation for his actions… he’d actually clap for this impressive feat, if not for the fact that it puts him in a dire situation.
And what could be more dire than to be stuck in the same hotel room, sharing the same bed, with a bandaged mackerel looming at him with arms crossed, looking like some gloomy specter?
He decides to clear the air first. “I don’t even know how I got this strange… ability.”
“And you also don’t know how to switch it off.”
“I know it happens when I have skin contact with others… but not everyone.” If nothing else, Chuuya does respect this guy’s ability to think through problems. It’s what makes him a formidable opponent at work.
Dazai raises his eyebrows. “So you’ve been going around touching people, huh.”
He matches the other’s expression. “When one isn’t an uptight bastard afraid to mingle with others, some touches are inevitable.”
“I don’t like that you’ve been touching others.” It’s as if a dam has broken wide open. Now that Dazai is aware that his private thoughts have been exposed, he’s a lot more forthcoming about his… feelings. “You definitely touched a lot of them, because you’d have wanted to find a pattern as to when and how you’re able to read one’s thoughts.”
“Whether you like it or not is irrelevant.” The harsh truth is for the best. Restraining his thoughts isn’t his style at all. “But anyway, now that you know, you should… stay away from me. So I won’t end up… hearing your thoughts.”
Dazai makes a face, one reminiscent of eating a sour lemon whole, skin and all. “It’s not as if you could unhear them, could you? Unless you could conveniently have selective amnesia.”
“I wish I could, but there’s no point crying over spilled milk. I just don’t want to hear those thoughts again.” He watches the other’s posture, maintaining the rigid stance. “And I doubt that you’d like your personal thoughts being broadcasted to others. So it’s a win-win solution for the two of us.”
Dazai lunges forward, holding his wrists, as if to keep him in place. It echoes in his ears and inside his skull simultaneously: “…But you aren’t just ‘others’, Chuuya.”
And then, it continues, “In fact, I think it’s splendid that you can hear my thoughts. Can you hear it, whenever I look at you and think that I’m looking at the sun itself? Can you hear it, whenever I’m around you and I’m not able to maintain my heartrate at a normal level, because it keeps on pounding so hard like it wants to leap out of my chest and into yours? Can you hear my yearning to be close to you, Chuuya? Can you?”
Chuuya bristles, wanting to set himself free from the other’s grip. It’s not an impossible task, but he’s somehow rooted into the place, as if the syllables are actual nails that drive into him.
Sensing his opening, Dazai hammers down his thoughts against him, his body crowding into him, making him hyperaware of the differences in their physiques. Dazai may seem like a lanky twig, but his shoulders are broad enough to seemingly cover him, and his limbs are long enough to give the impression of being able to circle around him.
“Do you still need mind-reading to know what I’m thinking right now, Chuuya? Can’t you read it from my eyes? I’ve been looking at you the entire time, not wanting to miss a single iteration of your smile. Can’t you read it from my lips? I’ve been wanting to know for ages just how you’d taste, even when I know for a fact that regardless of the answer, it would make ambrosia tasteless in comparison. I haven’t told you any of these because I didn’t want to scare you away—are you scared right now, Chuuya? Are you frightened by the extent of my adoration? Or are you terrified that you’d find out that you feel the same way about me?”
“Absolutely not!” He stomps on the other’s feet. “I’d never be scared of you or such stupid things!”
“Is that so? Do you admit that you have feelings for me too?”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” he rages. “Unless you mean anger and annoyance.”
Dazai’s cheeks puff up in laughter. His inner thoughts and his actual voice synchronize once more, sounding helplessly fond. “…Well. That doesn’t sound so bad. It is indeed a start.”
“Tsk. The only thing that’s going to start is me about to start whacking you if you don’t stop trying to bombard me with your thoughts.” He very generously takes a step back and doesn’t perform an over-the-shoulder throw on the mackerel. “I know you, shitty Dazai. I know you’d try to weaponize this somehow and… I don’t know. Try to distract me by forcing me to listen to your thoughts.”
The laughter makes a comeback, more full-bodied. Dazai bends forward, clutching at his stomach, tears beading at the corner of his eyes. “…Fufufu. You really are one of a kind, Chuuya. As expected of the one I like, I truly have great taste.”
It slips out so easily, just like that.
Chuuya feels his entire body be suffused with warmth, as if there’s severe malfunction in the thermostat, placing them in a desert instead of Hokkaido’s cool environment. “…Shut up and let me sleep in peace, damn it.”
Both of them don’t bring up the fact that they’re skipping the dinner that Dostoevsky had invited them to. Both of them also tacitly avoid mentioning trying to request for an extra bed from the hotel, as the two of them turn in for the night.
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…But of course, because this is Chuuya, nothing is ever that simple.
At the strike of midnight, a warm hand holds his wrist, and a warm voice holds his brain hostage.
“I now understand the mechanics,” Dazai says from a very short distance, practically whispering to his earlobe. “It’s from that urban legend: about how being a virgin at 30 would make one a wizard.”
The fog of sleepiness weighs down on his head… or maybe that’s just because Dazai is invading his personal space.
At his silence, Dazai continues, “Upon one’s 30th birthday, if they’re still a virgin, they’d develop a mind-reading ability, which only works on a fellow virgin. I completely understand it now.”
Chuuya’s brain finally goes online. “So you’ve been flirting that hard with all those people before, but you turned out to be an old virgin too?!”
“…Hey, if I’m considered ‘old’, then you’re practically a fossil, no?”
“I’m just a few weeks older than you?!”
“Ah, but that urban legend does offer a solution to this predicament.” Dazai smiles at him, eyes glittering in the darkness of their hotel room. “Once we get rid of our virginities together, this problem should go away, yes?”
“Doing it with you is definitely the bigger problem though?!”
“…Yes, I am indeed so much bigger than you can ever imagine.”
There really is no way around it. Chuuya has to either start accepting he’d be jailed for murder, or he can actually—
“—Wait a damn moment. How did you even manage to understand the mechanics? Did you read my mind while I was asleep?”
Dazai beams at him, looking very much like a pleased cat. “I saw your dreams, and you were definitely thinking about how hot my abs are.”
“You have non-existent abs, what the hell are you talking about?!”
But they both know the truth about his dreams, and the thoughts that he’s starting to entertain more and more lately. That perhaps, the feelings that he has for Dazai aren’t limited to sole annoyance and antagonism. That perhaps, he’s interested in pursuing this thread that connects them.
…Ah, as he has previously suspected, he really is cursed.
But maybe, just maybe, this particular curse is something that he actually wants to stay like this.
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end