Chapter Text
‘Lord Nakahara…I..’
‘Shirase….The air suddenly has a bitter smell of something prudish. Shall we move away from here?’
Dazai gritted his teeth as Nakahara once again walked away from him with his sycophant, hanging from his arm. Their mocking laugh echoed in the corridors of the Yorkshire manor.
The brunet noble huffed in frustration and marched straight to his chambers, the jarring noise of the door, leaving a lingering impact. However, Dazai was not bothered if anyone felt appalled at his temper tantrum. He was allowed to have them now and then.
He plopped down on the wooden chair overlooking the vast green field of Yorkshire estate. This had been the second time Dazai tried to apologize to Nakahara but the stubborn prince once again refused to listen to him and ignored his presence. As if Dazai was just a speck of dust not worthy of his attention.
‘A schmuck.’
Dazai muttered angrily. But as he stared outside in the garden and watched Nakahara enter inside in a carriage with his new lover, the anger ebbed away and soul-crushing grief consumed his being.
His eyes once again became moist but he held onto his tears. He was the son of a Duke…He will not cry for someone whose affections are altered in the blink of an eye. The man who had been pining exaggeratedly for Dazai had now completely forgotten all about him.
After questioning Dazai and his beliefs, after creating a catastrophic moral dilemma within his heart, after insulting his father…The noble had just dropped him and latched onto a new person.
Dazai wished to hold onto his anger but an ugly doubt reared its mangily head in his mind.
Am I even worthy of being loved?
Maybe he was just accursed to destroy everything that came close to him and when people realized this, they left him. His poor mother’s life was left in disarray because she cared for him. She lived alone and died alone. Her memory would be washed away in the shores of time.
Such a tragic ending for a lovely soul. Her only folly—She cared for someone like Dazai. A coward and a wretched being.
Maybe this was why his father kept him locked up in the manor of Westminster. He was a plague that would ravage everything and everyone in his path.
His father was just protecting the world from him.
Perhaps…Nakahara realized this. This is why he abandoned all his affections for him and tried to pour his unconditional love onto a more worthy soul.
(Even if it was a skank.)
Dazai could no longer the tears in his eyes. His heart was in a constant state of turmoil and the only person who could soothe it, was now the furthest from him.
Suddenly the brunet’s eye fell on the lonesome statue of the Fallen Angel. His heart was overwhelmed with empathy for the poor lost soul.
The angel had been kicked out of heaven because he dared to oppose his father, the Almighty. He had made the mistake to desire for something his Father did not approve of and as a punishment he had been tossed out of the only place he called home.
Left defenseless and all alone in the lonely shadow world. No one heard his pleas or cries. Everyone just assumed he was evil and wicked. People spun untrue and false stories about him. As if they knew him.
Maybe he would be just like the Fallen Angel…if his father ever heard the voice of his heart. He would surely abandon him to the wreckage of life. And the one person who would have given him the courage to break through the shackles of his father had turned his back on him.
And I have no one to blame but myself.
He should have been honest about his own emotions. He should have told the noble that his heart had belonged to him since the moment he saw him. Those piercing blue eyes and vibrant orange locks had enraptured him holding him as a captive.
No force was powerful enough to squash his heart’s desire for the blue-eyed noble…Alas…If Dazai knew this earlier. He would be a man rich with love and adoration.
A love that had been denied to him throughout his life. A love that could mend the broken parts of himself.
But he had shied away from these affections because of his pride.
He had insulted the man just like his father.
No wonder Nakahar no longer fancied him. He was a truly terrible person.
His door opened brusquely and Dazai quickly wiped his tears of desolation and turned around to face the staunch figure of his father.
The man radiated power and dominance and Dazai felt himself cowering from his aura.
‘Good Afternoon, Father.’ He meekly said and tried to create a semblance of a smile.
‘I know you have not yet been able to accrue the affections of a noble lady.’ His father folded his arms and fixed him with a disappointed stare.
If only you knew….I do not desire a woman.
‘I am sorry, Father. I …’ He fell quiet when his father raised his hand.
‘I do not wish to hear your flotsam-jetsam, Osamu. You are lucky you have a father like me.’ The man exuded a vainglorious aura and Dazai had to control the bitter laugh that threatened to escape him.
Of course…I am.
‘The Baron of Nottingham has agreed to give his daughter to you in a royal wedlock.’
The moment those words were uttered, Dazai felt like someone had submerged him inside ice-cold water. He staggered back and clutched onto the bed post.
‘Marriage?’ He asked weakly but his father was least bothered about the reaction of his son.
‘She is a young, good Christian woman. Perfect for you.’ His father continued as if he did not just raise a storm in his son’s heart.
‘The marriage will happen within two months.’ Each word was like the striking of a thunderbolt in an empty sky.
‘Well, it is a good thing that we have to stay in Yorkshire for merely five more days. There is a lot of arrangements to be made Osamu, once we return to Westminster.’ His father smiled and Dazai wanted to let out an agonized scream.
When he walked out of the door, Dazai’s feet trembled and he sat down on the carpeted floor like a poor beast of burden.
This was probably the first time he saw his father smile. Ironically, it was also the first time that Dazai started to truly hate the man.
He knew his father wanted to get him married but he did not know it would happen at a time when Dazai was just starting to allow his heart to experience emotions it had been denied for far too long.
His father once again decided his fate without even asking for his opinion.
Did he have no control over his own life? Was he just a mere mold of clay in the hands of his father- to be molded in a manner that suited his father but never him?
Why was his life a constant play of tragedy?
His heart clenched at the thought of marriage and he felt nauseous.
He was going to be married to a woman while his heart desired a man. A man with coarse hands, orange tufts of hair, and enchanting blue eyes.
Death seems sweeter now.
…………..
‘Oh! Such an exquisite masterpiece of a play it was.’ Shirase’s voice trilled and Nakahara grimaced but kept the forced smile on his face.
As he walked with a hand on Shirase’s waist, unknowingly his eyes went up near the window where the crimson-eyed brunet usually sat.
However, a gloom fell over Nakahara when he realized that the drapes had shut out the entire world from the bird in the golden cage.
He felt angry with himself for even trying to sympathize with the man who rejected him so crudely. Unbeknownst to him, his hand tightened around Shirase’s waist and the man hissed in pain.
‘I know you are rough Lord Nakahara. But please control yourself till we reach your private chambers.’ Shirase fluttered his irises and immediately the man removed his arm and gave him an apologetic smile.
He felt frustrated that not even Shirase, his favored consort in Yorkshire, could manage to get a reaction from him.
The man was outrageously pretty…yet Nakahara blanched at the thought of using that adjective to describe anyone who did not have the softest brown curls and amber eyes that sparkled with curiosity and awe.
What is happening to me?
Earlier, he never wasted his waking hours thinking about any person, but now the blasted brunet had even managed to reside in his dreams.
He needed to forget all about him and pour his admirations elsewhere but the thought of touching anyone that was not the son of the Duke of Westminster set his heart in a frenzy.
The whole day spent with Shirase turned out to be drab and the man failed to arouse the same sort of adoration and intensity which Dazai could do with only a flicker of a touch.
The two days, he spent avoiding the brunet had been torturous for him but his pride prevented him from talking to the man who never left his thoughts. Even now he could remember the pain in those eyes when he rebuffed and ignored the brunet. It made him feel weirdly...guilty.
But...Lord Nakahara does not bow in front of anyone. Why should Dazai be an exception, right?
‘Lord Nakahara…Lord Nakahara.’ Shirase’s repeated chanting made Nakahara once again conscious of his surroundings.
‘What?’ He snapped as he and Shirase stepped inside the manor and began marching towards his chamber.
‘Why are you angry with me? Is it because of that prude?’ Shirase sneered and Nakahara felt his temper rise. He did not know why, but he wanted to sock the man for being disrespectful towards Dazai.
‘Ah! Darling Chuuya. Just the man I have been searching for.’ Rimbaud twirled into his view and without even sparing a glance at Shirase, he grabbed Nakahara’s arm and pulled him away with a rough tug.
‘I have the most exciting news for you.’ Rimbaud said with faux enthusiasm as he began to drag Nakahara away from Shirase, who was now muttering profanities under his breath.
Sometimes the man definitely forgot his place.
‘What is it, Rimbaud?’ Nakahara asked once they had reached near a relatively empty space, Shirase long forgotten from his mind.
He pulled his hand away from the man and furrowed his eyebrows at him.
‘The son of the Duke of Westminster….Our dear Church boy….is set to become a married man within two months.’
Nakahara’s face drained off all its color and his eyes widened. An awry and uncomfortable feeling started to grow inside his stomach. For some reason, it seemed that all the light of the world had been sucked out.
‘What?’ He gulped.
‘Yes….The Duke has been parading around the news. Perfect holy matrimony to bind the kindred spirits of the Duke’s son and the Baron of Nottingham’s daughter. It definitely calls for a celebration, don’t you agree, Chuuya?’ Rimbaud cheered.
Nakahara remained ramrod straight and dread overcame his features.
‘Why do you look like you have seen a ghost? Are you not happy? The man you despised and ignored will no longer bother you. Cheers…Chuuya.’ Rimbaud mocked.
Nakahara’s eyes flared in anger and for a moment he saw red. He grabbed the lapels of Rimbaud’s coat and pushed him back, making him hit the wall behind him and the man groaned in pain.
‘Stop talking.’ Nakahara gritted out. Boiling rage was pouring out of his every crevice and he felt like burning down anyone in his path.
‘Your temper is just like your brother….But your heart is broken just like mine.’ Rimbaud said in a soft voice.
That made the anger vanish from Nakahara and a bone-deep ache filled his veins.
‘I am sorry, Rimbaud.’ He gasped out as he moved away.
‘I don’t mind. Afterall ,your brother is much more rough.’ Rimbaud winked and dusted his clothes.
Nakahara grimaced at the image which formed in his mind.
‘Do you know that every day I wake up hoping that the raring emptiness in my heart will disappear? But it never does…..’ Rimbaud's voice sounded hoarse and pained.
‘I still remember Paul standing at the altar and placing a ring in Agatha’s finger. Everyone cheered while I wallowed in misery.’ Rimbaud leaned his head on the wall ‘He danced with her while I stood in the shadows watching him laugh with someone who was not me.’
‘Arthur…’ Nakahara began but Rimbaud continued ‘He is neither my first nor my last but he is the one that matters.’
He wiped the tears on his face and gave a bitter smile ‘Which is why every time I meet him, I allow him to use me hoping that this time he would choose me. But he never does.’
‘I wish I could have fought harder for him….But I did not. I let him slip from my fingers.’ Rimbaud looked at Nakahara with a solemn and determined gaze ‘Fight for him, Chuuya. Fight tooth and nail for the one you love. And even after that if Fate snatches him away from you, at least you can find comfort in the thought that you tried.’
Nakahara inhaled deeply as those words resonated with him. His feet started to move away from Rimbaud, at a steady pace.
‘Fight for him, Chuuya. Do not become a miserable sod like me. Fight for him.’ Rimbaud's voice echoed and Nakahara ran.
He ran to the only person who had broken the barriers around his heart. The only one whose touch brought him comfort and whose words plunged deep within his soul. The one who could make or break him.
His Church boy.
His flower.
His Dazai.
………..
‘Osamu….You look like a wretched cur.’ Oda said in a straight voice as he tried to feed him the warm broth.
Dazai whined and moved his head away ‘Odasaku is insulting me.’
‘I merely speak the truth.’ The man attempted to once again feed him the broth but he moved further inside the bed, almost disappearing under the heavy blankets.
‘You have fever…Osamu. You must eat warm food.’ Oda insisted.
However, Dazai just whined and buried himself in the cocoon of blankets. After the disastrous announcement by his father, Dazai felt it laborious to even move a single limb. Trapezing around the manor and having to maintain a false jovial state of a man delighted at the thought of marriage seemed like a chore to him.
After all, his enthusiasm would appear bleak in front of his father.
And now all this misery had rendered him sick. Call him dramatic…but he felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on his fragile body and he refused to release the comfort of his bed.
I do not want to marry. Why doesn’t anyone hear me?
‘I for one, think this marriage is a good opportunity. Maybe a woman's touch can once again fill the gloomy manor with love and laughter.’ Oda tried to placate the beaten-down man….child….to be precise.
His heart went out to this crying child who had been left alone in the world under the thumb of his tyrannical father. It was quite surprising that he remained kind-hearted even after the rigorous teachings and indoctrination by his father.
Maybe it is his mother’s touch.
However, the quiet atmosphere of the chamber was disturbed when someone banged on the door in continuous succession.
‘Odasakuuuuuu…..Who is this brute?’ Dazai wailed dramatically.
‘I will send the person away. Don’t worry, Osamu.’ Oda smiled and kept the untouched broth on the bedside table and moved towards the door.
When he opened it, his lips curled in distaste as he came face to face, with a disheveled looking Lord Chuuya Nakahara-Verlaine.
The scourge of society. The Libertine who dared to entrap his naïve Lord into his honeyed words.
‘Lord Dazai is unwell and would like to be left alone.’ Oda quickly responded and attempted to close the door on the man’s face. But, Nakahara held onto the door and prevented Oda from closing it.
‘I must speak with him at the moment. It’s quite urgent.’ He requested, his eyes trying to move past Oda’s stoic figure.
‘I insist that you leave. He is not taking any visitors now.’ Oda monotoned attempting once again to close the door.
‘LORD DAZAI!! PLEASE TALK TO ME ONCE!!’ Nakahara’s voice thundered in the chamber and the brunet noble stirred upon hearing the voice that he had been begging to talk to for the past two days.
‘Odasaku...Who is it?’ He asked in a perplexed manner as he slowly got out of the blankets and rested his upper body on the headboard.
‘It is Lord Chuuya Nakahara-Verlaine, your Lordship. Must I ask him to leave?’ Oda said in a serene voice but Nakahara just wanted to kick the man in his nuts and rush to his Church boy.
‘Allow him to enter, Odasaku.’ Dazai ordered placidly, even if a rush of adrenaline, fear, and excitement grew inside of him.
Has he finally come back to me?
‘But you are not well, my Lord.’ Oda looked at him with concern.
‘It is alright.’
‘But…’
‘I said...It is alright, Oda.’ Dazai’s tone left no room for argument. Oda acquiesced and allowed Nakahara to enter. However, he made no effort to cover his dislike for the man.
‘You may leave, Odasaku. Good night.’ Dazai said in a soft voice, guilty about having to reprimand his closest friend. Oda smiled at Dazai conveying his forgiveness and after giving a hard look at Nakahara, he walked away, closing the door behind him.
Dazai took in the haggard presence of Nakahara in his red coat and roguish black pants. His hair was a wild untamed mess that might have once been tied into a neat ponytail. Despite looking not even slightly close to the part of a respectable gentleman, he remained as warm as the sun on a freezing winter morning.
He glowed brightly, while the rest of the world remained frozen.
‘I must apologize…I am not in the best of my attire.’ Dazai politely said while becoming conscious of his white night apparel.
‘Your beauty still sparkles like the Pole star…bringing wayward sailors to the correct path.’ Nakahara spoke in a besotted manner as he took careful steps towards the ill man.
Dazai blushed under the praise and shyly looked down at his twitching fingers on the blanket.
‘What if the lost soul has already found another star? What purpose does the Pole Star serve then?’ Dazai asked in a soft voice and Nakahara was once again consumed with guilt, regarding his outlandish treatment of the crimson-eyed beauty.
‘Then the sailor is an utter fool…Not worthy of the Pole Star’s affection.’ Nakahara gradually came closer to the bed of the brunet.
‘But he is! I insist he is!’ Dazai implored. The orange-haired Duke gave a soft smile as he sat upon the bed.
‘But the Pole Star has found another sailor.’
‘No…The star was forced to shine in the path of another…He did not want to. He only desires…’ With a brave huff, Dazai placed his hand on Nakahara’s palm. ‘His sailor.’ The brunet whispered.
A surprised expression flitted through the azure eyes before Nakahara interlaced his fingers with the pale hand.
‘And the sailor desires his Pole Star.’ Nakahara gently caressed the brunet’s wrist. His touch was as gentle as a feather and Dazai blushed at the thought of being treated as delicately as glass.
For how long had he been denying this raging emotion? For how long had he refused to listen to the cries of his heart?
‘I must apologize...For what I had said to you on that night.’ Guilt swarmed in those crimson eyes which had turned Chuuya from an atheist to a devotee. He must have done something good in his past life for God to allow the descension of this pure angel in his humble abode.
‘No…I let my temper get the best of me. Like an ignoble bastard…’He placed the soft wrist of the brunet closer to his own face and reveled in the featherlike touch gracing his rough skin.
‘I denied myself of the thing that is most important to me.’ Azure eyes shone with the same adoration and devotion…a reminiscence of the earlier night…where they both let their pride dictate their being.
‘My heart refuses to hold it in much longer, Lord Nakahara.’ Dazai whispered and it was then that he realized that there was barely an inch of space separating him from his ambrosia.
‘I am in love with you.’ The brunet confessed with a shy smile as he kissed Nakahara’s palm. ‘I will be yours…If you will have me.’
‘But….isn't this a sin?’ Nakahara smirked with a fond look in his eyes.
‘If loving you is a sin, then I will happily become an unrepentant sinner at God’s feet.’
As the truth tumbled out of his mouth, a burden was lifted from his chest. He no longer felt like a puppet being pulled in different directions by his father. With this honest declaration, he had become his own person. Now, no longer would he feel like an insufficient or accursed human for loving the one his heart desired.
He was finally…free. And it was the best feeling he had ever experienced.
Nakahara was filled with euphemism upon hearing the love confession from the one he desired. He placed his forehead on top of Dazai’s whilst their hands remained connected.
‘I will help you fight against your father.’ He promised.
Dazai smiled and shook his head ‘I can fight my own battles….Just stand by my side.’
……………….
Two years later
Vibrant attires dazzled as people forayed onto the streets, busy in their merry-making. Thousands of balloons and streamers were floating up in coloring the lonely sky into a palette of thousand colors. Many of the people walking in the parade were holding onto countless banners that showcased their mastery in the art of drawing and painting.
At the front of the procession were three musical bands, who played the tunes to which the people danced euphorically like the children who followed the eccentric pied piper.
‘Chuuya….This is wonderful.’ Osamu said in a mesmerized manner as he looked at the parade which walked down the streets of Dunkirk, France.
‘Carnaval de Dunkirque.’ Chuuya smiled and held his hand ‘It accepts all.’
And Osamu realized it was true. In this small parade, people dressed like whoever they wanted to. Men wore the attire of women while the women dressed up as bulky men. The poor and the rich mingled together. Everyone was allowed to wear perfume and be dolled up. There existed no restrictions. No societal boundaries. Only love and laughter.
It was like Heaven on Earth.
Osamu’s lips upturned into a grateful smile as he interlinked his fingers with Chuuya ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’
‘Pleasure is all mine, mon amour.’ Chuuya winked as he placed a fleeting kiss on Osamu’s lips making the boy shiver and blush.
Even after being kissed countless times, Osamu still felt a tingling in his nerves every time those rough chapped lips met his.
Chuuya could not hold back his admiration for the brunet who had bloomed from a shy bud into the most exquisite flower. His attire was the first sign to showcase his acceptance of himself. The brunet had worn a white layered gown paired with woman’s shoes. Few traces of a powder was visible on his face and a dark red lip color made the brunet’s lips look like the most delectable treat.
He seemed nothing like the reticent, prudent, and snobbish boy he had been under his father’s thumb.
As Chuuya began dragging him to join the parade, Osamu’s mind was floating in exhilaration. A chuckle escaped his lips as he still remembered his grand escapade from his tyrannical father.
…………..
After he had confessed to his father in Yorkshire about his innermost desires, the man had flipped. But before he could slap his son and ship him off to some conversion camp, Chuuya had boldly intervened.
With a flurry, the ginger-haired man had entered Dazai’s father’s chamber and kissed his son fervently, right in front of the angry man.
His father was frozen for few moments after seeing this outrageous show of affection, and Nakahara used that moment to drag away Dazai not without giving a cheeky smile to his father. They went straight to the carriage that had already been prepared for them.
Dazai was still feeling dizzy after the sudden kiss and went pliant in the man’s arms as he was maneuvered inside the carriage. However, before the carriage doors could close Oda jumped in, carrying two small suitcases.
Nakahara frowned and ordered the carriage driver to halt.
‘What-what are you doing here?’
‘I am not leaving Lord Dazai alone with a heathen like you. Besides he needs proper care. He is far too delicate than most.’ Oda reclined comfortably in the bed of the carriage.
‘Now if you do not want to face that dictator…’ As if on cue, Dazai’s father stormed out of the manors’ door screaming,
‘STOP….BRING MY SON BACK NAKAHARA..OSAMU…COME BACK RIGHT NOW.’
‘I suggest you ask the horseman to move the carriage. Godspeed.’
Nakahara shook his head and commanded Karma to start moving the carriage. It was then that Dazai’s spell broke and like a scared cat, he curled to Nakahara’s side, while fearfully looking in the direction of his tormentor.
‘Are we really doing this Lord Nakahara? Are we actually running away from my father?’
‘Yes…We are free men now.’ Nakahara smiled as he swooped in for another kiss. Oda’s cough made him change his trajectory and he just pecked Dazai on his cheek and glared at the man who had a matching glare on his face, whilst Dazai remained blissfully unaware of the tension between his best friend and lover.
Watching the moving carriage from his window Rimbaud chortled ‘Ahh!~ You have always been a fan of dramatics, have you not Chuuya?’
…………
As Osamu got lost in the joy of the parade and danced around with Chuuya, pure bliss shone on his face and it made him look even more beautiful than before. An entrapping aura of positivity radiated from him and Chuuya laughed wholeheartedly, as he guided the brunet in the parade.
‘Chuuya…’ Osamu suddenly stopped his movements making even the orange-haired noble stop his humorous dance.
They stepped to the side, to allow people behind them to pass without much hindrance.
‘What is it Osamu?’ He asked in a soft voice as he placed his hand behind the brunet’s neck.
‘If this is a dream….Please do not wake me up from it.’ The crimson eyes were beaming with innocence and Chuuya could not help but pull Osamu closer, making them stand chest-to-chest.
‘This is the reality…precious. No force in the world can snatch away our happiness from us.’ He assured.
And in that small bricked alley in Dunkirk where thousands of people celebrated themselves, Osamu realized that there was one good thing his dictator of a Father did for him.
He paved the path for him to meet Chuuya.
His power.
His sun.
His love.
His forbidden fruit.
………………