Chapter Text
It starts out like this.
Dazai and Fyodor are nine years old. They’re outside in the front yard, causing mischief, while their father is reading a book to their younger sister on the front porch. It's summer, the sun shining down harshly onto the two boys, causing them to sweat simply by being outside.
“Look, nii-san,” Dazai says, grinning up at the older brother. He has a magnifying glass in one hand, positioned over an ant hill, eyes lighting with amusement as the sun shines through the glass and burns the insects. “It's working.”
Fyodor frowns, watching as an ant shrivels up from the light beam. “I don't see why tormenting ants is fun.”
The roar of a truck cuts off their conversation, and the whole family raises their heads, watching as a large moving truck pulls in front of the house next door, a small car pulling into the driveway.
“Ah, new neighbors,” Mori says from his position on the porch. The two brothers look back at him, “We should welcome them once they’ve settled in a bit.” He strokes his chin. “Maybe we should give them a welcoming present?”
“But you can't cook,” all three of his children say. Fyodor begins to walk towards the porch, Dazai following once he notices. Fyodor sits down by Mori’s feet while Dazai hoists himself up into the porch railing.
Mori pouts. “Are you guys saying you don't like my food? Besides, I didn't say I was gonna cook anything.”
“Rintarou’s food is gross,” Elise says, climbing off the man’s lap. She clambers up onto the porch railing next to Dazai, the brunet helping her up. “I like it better when we order food.”
“Elise-chan…”
“If you're not going to give them food, what would you give them?” Fyodor asks, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “Isn't that what you're supposed to do?”
“...I can bring pastries over?”
“If you didn't cook them then that's lame,” Dazai states. “Anyone can buy a box of desserts. I bet Fukuzawa-san is making his special daifuku right now.”
As if on cue, Fukuzawa’s car pulls into his driveway across the street. The man gets out and opens the trunk to reveal groceries, his son Ranpo reluctantly helping him carry them in after a stern look from the older man.
“Fukuzawa-san!” Dazai calls out, waving his hand in greeting.
The man turns. “Hello, Dazai-kun. Feel free to come over and eat daifuku once I've finished making them.”
“Will do!” He replies, before turning around to face his father. “Told you.”
Mori stands up abruptly, his face strangely solemn. All three of his children look up at him questionably.
“We’re going shopping!”
The three of them are shoved into Mori’s not family friendly car with a cacophony of complaining, Fyodor and Dazai almost wrestling to get into the shotgun seat before Mori gets sick of it and squishes both of them into the back seat with Elise, sweaty limbs sticking together. As they pass the house next door on the way to the grocery store, Dazai catches a glimpse of red hair and blue eyes.
“What is it?” Fyodor asks him as he rolls down the window in order to stick his head out and get a better look.
“Dazai-kun, roll that window back up. We have the AC on.”
Dazai doesn't listen at first, squinting his eyes in an attempt to get a better look, but the car has already moved too far away.
“Dazai-kun.”
“I’m doing it, Rintarou,” he replies, rolling the window back up, lips twitching into a smile.
Fyodor gives him a curious look, but says nothing.
~o.O.o~
Mori stares at the mess he's made in the kitchen, feeling mostly regret. He glances at his finished project on the table, in its frosted glory. At least the cake turned out okay.
He slaps Dazai’s hands away from the cake, frowning when he simultaneously notices the frosting on Elise’s fingers. Fyodor had lost interest in the cake awhile ago, and is probably holed up in his room, judging from the low hum of cello strings coming from the boy’s room.
“Elise-chan,” Mori begins, grabbing a napkin to clean the girl’s hands, “I thought I told you not to touch the frosting…”
“When have I ever listened to Rintarou?” Elise responds, making Dazai chuckle.
Mori sighs, glancing at the time. “Alright, let’s go greet them now. Dazai, get Fyodor.”
Dazai obliges, feet pounding against the stairs as he heads up to their shared room. “Nii-san,” he drawls, wincing when he hears a rough squeak. “That sucked, Fyodor.”
Fyodor glares at him. “Shut up,” he mutters, gently placing his cello back into its case. “What do you want?”
Dazai leans against the door frame. “We’re meeting the neighbors.”
Fyodor follows him down the stairs, the two of them joining Mori and Elise, cake safely placed in a container and in Mori’s hands. The four of them move back out into the summer heat, though the air had cooled a bit since this afternoon. They walk across their lawn, the grass tickling their ankles.
“I wanna ring it!” Elise demands as they’re walking towards the door, rushing ahead. The girl reaches up to ring the doorbell, before moving back with her hands interlocked behind her. The others join her as they wait for the door to open.
After what feels like a few minutes, the group awkwardly begins to shuffle from discomfort.
Dazai sighs. “This is boring.”
“They’re not home,” Fyodor says, right before the door actually opens.
The two brothers gape in awe.
A child with red curls and blue eyes blinks at them. Dazai feels his heart stop when the child makes eye contact with him, blue eyes reminding him of sunlight shining onto warm seas. He glances over at Fyodor to see that his brother is in the exact same state he is in now.
“Hello,” Mori greets, smiling down at the child, “We live next door. Is your mother here?”
“Don’t have one,” the redhead deadpans, just as a young woman approaches.
“Chuuya, what did I say about opening the door without telling me?” The woman scolds, red lips scrunched into a frown. Her hair isn’t as red as Chuuya’s, but beauty also glows from every angle of her face. She turns to look at Mori, smiling politely. “Ozaki Kouyou,” she greets, “and this is my brother, Chuuya.”
Dazai and Fyodor twitch in shock at the revelation that this child is a boy, their gazes never leaving Chuuya’s figure. The redhead seems to notice, an uncomfortable look appearing on his face as he scoots closer to his sister.
Mori smiles back. “Mori Ougai,” he begins, before motioning towards the others, “my children, Fyodor, Dazai-kun, and Elise.”
The two adults continue talking, Mori offering the woman a cake with a smile, but the words drift away from Dazai and Fyodor’s ears, gazes still locked onto the redhead.
“What’s wrong with you two?” Chuuya snaps quietly, looking flustered, “you’re creepy!”
At this moment, the two brothers simultaneously decided that they were in love.
Eventually Kouyou and Mori say their goodbyes, the woman smiling kindly before shutting the door, effectively hiding Chuuya from Dazai and Fyodor’s sight.
“I hope they like the cake,” Mori murmurs, grabbing Elise’s hand and turning around to walk back home.
Meanwhile, Dazai and Fyodor stay frozen in place, the two of them still trying to catch their wits.
“Fyodor? Dazai-kun?” Mori questions, frowning when he turns around and sees his two children still standing on the doorstep.
Fyodor and Dazai turn towards each other.
“He’s mine!”
age nine .
Dazai growls, jabbing his elbow roughly into Fyodor’s side. “Hey, nii-san, isn’t it a bit rude to copy someone else’s idea?”
Fyodor pushes his brother back with an equal amount of force. “You’re the one copying me, Dazai.”
The two of them are currently standing on the Ozaki’s doorstep. Dazai had forced himself to wake up at a decent time this morning, making himself look presentable and practically inhaling his breakfast before rushing over to the Ozaki’s house, only to bump into his brother on the way out.
Before they can bicker further, the door opens, causing them to scramble into a more proper position. Disappoint wafts through the air when they see its Kouyou who opens the door.
“Good morning Ozaki-san,” Dazai greets with a small bow, Fyodor following the gesture.
“Ah, good morning, Dazai-kun, Fyodor-kun,” the woman responds. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”
“Can Chuuya come out and play with me—”
“I’d like to know if Chuuya can come out and play—”
Dazai glares at Fyodor, the other returning his sharp gaze equally.
Kouyou laughs. “Oh my,” she begins, “don’t worry. I’m sure Chuuya would like to play with both of you.” She raises an eyebrow when this only causes the boys to glare at each other again. “I’ll go get him now. You two can come in.” She opens the door wider, the two boys following her orders and stepping inside.
The interior of the house is lined with boxes, most of the Ozaki’s items still unpacked, though pictures of Kouyou, Chuuya, and another man are already hanging on the walls.
Kouyou walks up the stairs, probably to Chuuya’s room. He hears a faint knocking and mumbled voices, before the sound of a door shutting ends the conversation. Chuuya appears at the top of the staircase, Kouyou behind him as he descends, a timid expression on his face.
“Hi,” the redhead mumbles almost snappishly, crossing his arms and turning his gaze to the side.
Dazai feels his heart lurch. He’s too cute, he’s really too cute. He grabs Chuuya’s wrist with a wide smile, pulling the redhead along despite his protests. “Let’s go out and play Chuuya~”
They run out of the house, Fyodor lagging behind. Chuuya suddenly stops and turns around, eyebrows scrunching. “Fyodor?”
The boy freezes. His expression is blank, but the faintest splash of pink appears on his cheeks. Dazai snickers, effectively knocking Fyodor out of his stupor.
“I’m going back,” is all he says, before quickly turning around and storming back to their house.
Chuuya frowns. “Should we go get him? He’s your brother, right?”
“Not really,” Dazai replies, “we’re all adopted.” His face suddenly breaks out into a grin. “Chuuya, let’s race to the park.”
“But I don’t know where the park is—”
Dazai takes off, sticking his tongue out at him before beginning to sprint.
“H-Hey!” Chuuya shouts, chasing after him. “You cheater! Prepare to die!”
age twelve.
Dazai is such a pain to Chuuya’s side.
He always has this infuriating smile on his lips. His brown hair frames his face a little too perfectly. He’s always teasing Chuuya and pulling pranks on him. He always steals Chuuya’s lunch because he never brings one. Honestly, Chuuya wants to kill Dazai every time he sees him.
Though Chuuya supposes that he’s what most would consider a “best friend.” Dazai’s really the only person he hangs out with outside of school, and often he asks himself why he allows this to happen.
Maybe it’s because Dazai was the first person to reach out to him when he’d moved here. Maybe it’s because the brunet practically forces himself into every aspect of Chuuya’s life. Either way, Dazai’s apparently his best friend and it’s too late to change it.
He supposes he and Kouyou have gotten pretty close to Dazai’s family, too. Elise latches onto him whenever he comes over to their house, much to Dazai’s displeasure. Mori often greets him with a smile. The only member he doesn’t really know at all in the family is Fyodor, who’s always holed away in his room when Chuuya comes over or gives Chuuya clipped answers whenever they interact. He sees the boy all the time—he is the same age as Dazai and him after all—but has yet to even have a proper conversation with him.
He doesn’t think Fyodor likes him very much. Dazai just laughs when he tells him this.
“Almost seems that way, doesn’t it?” The brunet replies, before releasing another chuckle.
Another thing that’s happened since he’s moved here is that he keeps getting little gifts from a mysterious someone. At first he thought it was Dazai who was sticking notes written on pale blue paper and dark chocolate into his school desk and mailbox, but when he confronted the other about it, he’d laughed and said he’d never do anything as cheesy and lame as that.
Chuuya saves all the notes, though. Some of them are just silly doodles or comics that make him laugh. Others are compliments that make his cheeks warm, or random facts or statements. One, the one that Chuuya stares at most often, is hand drawn sheet music decorated with a simple melody. Chuuya made Dazai play it on the piano once, and while it was pretty, it didn’t sound right to him.
Right now, he’s currently at Dazai’s house, draped over the couch. He’s still in his school uniform, too lazy to go back home and change. Though he had walked home with Dazai and Fyodor, the latter just went straight to his room the moment they walked into the house. “Dazai,” he begins, lips twisting into a frown.
“What is it, hatrack?” Dazai responds, making Chuuya scowl.
“I’m hungry.”
“There isn’t any food here.”
“You’re just too lazy to cook. I’m your guest, treat me better, yeah?”
“Are you even considered a guest anymore, Chuuya? You’re here so much it makes me wanna barf.”
“You invited me over here!”
In the end, they somehow manage to feed themselves and start playing video games in the basement.
“Wow, you suck,” Dazai deadpans, eyes intently focused onto the TV screen as his fingers fly over the game console.
“Shut up,” Chuuya huffs, before a sound from upstairs catches his attention. He pauses the game.
“Chuuyaaaa, what are you doing?” Dazai whines, “are you already giving up? Wow I didn’t—”
Chuuya slams a hand over the boy’s mouth, effectively shutting the boy up. He hears the sound again, ears perking up as he hears the low hum of what he assumes is a cello.
Dazai rips Chuuya’s hand off his mouth, grimacing in disgust, though his cheeks are strangely flushed pink. “Ew, now Chuuya’s ugly germs are on my beautiful face.” When Chuuya doesn’t take the bait, still intently listening to the music, the brunet huffs. “That’s just Fyodor playing his cello. He squeaks a lot.”
“I think he sounds good,” Chuuya replies, standing up. He quickly walks up the stairs, ignoring Dazai’s protests. Quietly, he walks up to the boy’s room, leaning his head against the door.
He really is good, Chuuya thinks to himself as he listens, feeling his lips curl up into a smile. Suddenly the music stops, the door opening, and Chuuya abruptly moves back.
Fyodor stares at him with an unreadable expression, his bow clenched tightly in his hands.
“S-Sorry…” Chuuya stutters, “I didn’t mean to uh, intrude…” he chuckles sheepishly. “You just sounded really good.”
There’s a long pause, long enough to make Chuuya awkwardly shuffle his feet, embarrassed by the other boy’s unrelenting stare.
“Really?” Fyodor says eventually, and he nods his head enthusiastically. After a few beats of silence, Fyodor speaks again.
“Would you like to come in?”
“Oh.” Chuuya blinks, suddenly remembering that Dazai’s downstairs waiting for him, but quickly disregards it. The bastard can wait a little longer. “Sure.”
When he steps into the room, it suddenly hits him that he’s never actually been in here. He knows Dazai and Fyodor share a room, but since the other is always holed up in here he’s never actually gotten the chance to be inside it. He immediately knows which side is Dazai’s. Books are piled precariously on almost every surface, but other than that, the area itself is relatively clean; the sheets are made, his laundry folded, and his desk organized.
When he glances at Fyodor’s desk though, he sees it.
Pale blue paper.
Fyodor notices his gaze, and Chuuya swears he sees the faintest of blushes on the boy’s cheeks.
“Wait right here,” Chuuya says, before quickly turning around and sprinting out of the house. He slams the door to his own house open, storming up the stairs and half heartedly calling out a greeting to Kouyou. He slides into his room, opening the drawer he keeps all the notes in and quickly finds the note with the sheet music written on it. He then runs out of his room and down the stairs, feet pounding as he calls out a goodbye to Kouyou again before sprinting out the door and back over to the Ougais’ house.
When Chuuya enters the house again, not bothering to knock, he catches Dazai still sitting downstairs, giving him an unreadable look. Deciding he’ll deal with Dazai later, he runs upstairs and back into Fyodor and Dazai’s room.
Fyodor stares at him curiously. Chuuya just holds out the slip of paper with a smile, making the other boy’s eyes widen.
“If you want to talk to me, you should just do so,” Chuuya scolds.
Fyodor pauses. “Alright. I will do that.”
Chuuya grins. “Good. Now can you play this for me?”
Fyodor nods, sitting down and placing the piece of paper on his music stand. Chuuya plops onto Dazai’s bed, making himself at home.
As Fyodor begins to play, Chuuya feels his smile sobering into something more soft.
It really does sound better on the cello.
age sixteen.
If there’s anything Chuuya’s learned about these brothers, it's that they’re similar in the almost the worst of ways—they have the same humor, process things in the same way, have the same mannerisms that blocks people out, and are both unbelievably competitive against each other.
Which is why when Chuuya wakes up on the morning of April twenty ninth, he only feels unbearable dread.
For a moment, there's only quiet. Sunlight streams through his window curtains, bathing his entire room in a soft light. Chuuya almost feels himself dozing off again to the calm atmosphere.
The door slams open, making him sit up so quickly he gets dizzy.
“Happy birthday, Chuuya!” Dazai greets, beaming from ear to ear. “I made my favorite hat rack some breakfast!”
“How about you get the fuck out of my house?” Chuuya snaps, taking a few moments to recompose himself and let his head stop spinning. He eyes the food on Dazai’s tray. It actually looks pretty good—it’s a western style breakfast with eggs and bacon and everything. But the thing about Dazai’s cooking is that it’s sometimes a hit or miss. Either the food tastes unbelievably good, or sucks your taste buds dry.
Sighing, Chuuya grabs the tray from Dazai’s hands and places it on his lap. “If this isn’t good, I’ll kill you, you bandaged bastard,” he warns, which only makes Dazai blink innocently at him in response. He takes a bite, feeling slightly pressured at Dazai’s eager gaze.
“It’s good,” he mumbles, and pretends to not notice the way his heart flutters as he sees Dazai smiles his rare, genuine smile.
Kouyou pops her head into Chuuya’s room, a knowing look on her face. “Fyodor’s here, Chuuya.”
“So it starts,” he mumbles.
Fyodor walks into Chuuya’s room with a massive bouquet of flowers. “Good morning, Chuuya. Happy birthday.”
“Oh. Thanks,” he mumbles, taking the bouquet out of the boy’s hands. He feels his cheeks heat up as he examines the white and red roses clustered together with camellias, the romantic subtext behind each of their meanings causing him to flush even more.
Dazai pouts. “Anyone can buy flowers. Chuuya, you should finish your food.”
“I’m working on it!” He snaps, “Fyodor, can you put these in that vase over there?”
Fyodor though, is already glaring at Dazai, focus averted. “Dazai, Chuuya obviously likes my flowers more, so how about you stop?”
“What’s so great about a cluster of plants? They’ll just die anyway.”
“Of course you wouldn’t know—”
The two of them continue to bicker, and Chuuya feels irritation simmer within him. He eats the rest of Dazai’s breakfast, the anger in him continuing to boil into ferocious bubbles, before slamming the tray on his nightstand, causing the two brothers to shut up.
Dazai beams when he sees the empty plates. “Chuuya! Did you like it?”
He takes a deep breath.
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!”
~o.O.o~
“Chuuya, look, you like coffee right? I got you some!”
“Chuuya, have some mochi.”
“Chuuya, I got you—”
“Chuuya, I made you—”
“Chuuya—”
“Chuuya—”
“...Chuuya? Where are you going?”
He whips his head around, glaring daggers at the two boys. “I’m going home.”
The two brothers watch the redhead’s receding figure, one prominent thought in both of their minds.
We fucked up .
~o.O.o~
“Chuuya, can you check the mail?” Kouyou asks, not looking up from the paperwork from her desk.
Chuuya sighs, pausing the game on his DS. He walks outside, opening the mailbox, not surprised to see a plethora of pale blue notes tucked inside. Knowing he’s probably being watched, he grabs all of them and shoves them into his pocket.
“You could’ve just told me,” he says when he walks back inside the house. Kouyou just smiles.
“You have those boys wrapped around your finger,” she murmurs, “it’s kind of cute.”
Rolling his eyes, he plops back onto the couch, reading through the notes.
All of them are snippets of melodies, drawn in Fyodor’s thin handwriting. The very last note is a doodle of a ushanka, and the words, I’m sorry . Happy birthday .
He can’t help but smile a little. He pulls out his phone and sends the boy a text.
Play that song for me sometime.
~o.O.o~
Late that night, Chuuya gets a call from Dazai.
“What is it, you fuck?” He answers grouchily, squinting as moves his head to glance at the time on his phone before bringing it back to his ear. “It’s fucking two am. What the fuck.”
“Can you come outside?” Is all Dazai says.
Chuuya does, but mumbles complaints to himself the entire time as he throws on a sweatshirt before walking quietly sneaking outside.
Dazai’s dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, arms hidden behind his back. “Nice legs,” he states, eyeing the skin Chuuya’s showing with his sleep shorts that he admits are probably a bit too short.
“Sh-Shut the fuck up,” he stutters, suddenly wishing he had slipped on sweatpants, “you don’t just say shit like that!”
Dazai just grins. “Here.”
Chuuya stares at the object hanging from Dazai’s hands. “Is that...a bento?”
The brunet shrugs. “Since I’m always stealing your food, I thought it’d be a good gift.”
“You woke me up at two in the fucking morning,” Chuuya begins incredulously, “to give me a bento?”
“Yup!” Dazai chirps.
Chuuya doesn’t know whether to punch the other in the face or laugh for the rest of his life. In the end he feels himself releasing a small snort. He opens the bento up, and picks at the food with his fingers, placing a sausage into his mouth.
As he’s chewing, he feels laughter bubble in his throat, and he quickly swallows before laughing out loud, clutching his stomach.
“What?” Dazai questions, looking genuinely surprised for once, “is it good?”
Chuuya shakes his head. “No,” he replies with a smile, before placing another sausage in his mouth. “It fucking sucks.”
age eighteen
The two families are out on a picnic.
Right now, Chuuya’s chattering with Elise on the swings. Kouyou’s adding the last minute touches to the food while Mori attempts to help but in the end just stands there helplessly.
Fyodor’s leaning against a tree, a book in front of his face to give everyone the impression that he’s reading. In reality, he’s watching the way the sun makes Chuuya’s hair glow, the light in Chuuya’s eyes, the expressions on Chuuya’s face that Fyodor can never get enough of.
“What an interesting book.”
He looks up to see Dazai smirking down at him, before the brunet himself turns to follow Fyodor’s gaze. Fyodor watches the way Dazai’s eyes soften, before glancing away.
“I love him,” he says, almost offhandedly.
“Yeah,” Dazai replies, just as casual. “Me too.”
Fyodor watches.
He watches Dazai tease Chuuya and watches Chuuya’s irritable responses. He watches the way the two move together, so in sync without even realizing it. He watches the way Chuuya’s attention immediately goes to Dazai whenever the other walks into the room.
He smiles to himself, even though it cuts him like a knife.
I’ve already lost .
age twenty nine
A knock on the door catches his attention. “Yeah?” He calls out.
Fyodor walks into the room with a small smile on his face. “You look wonderful.”
Chuuya blushes, turning his reflection back to the mirror. “Thank you.” He turns back to face the man again, eyes shimmering with conflict. “I’m—”
“Don’t,” Fyodor interrupts, shaking his head. Chuuya falls silent. Fyodor grabs the other’s hand and kisses the back of his palm. “As long as Chuuya is happy, I’m happy.”
“Thank you,” Chuuya repeats, gripping Fyodor’s hand.
“Is my husband really making moves on my brother during our wedding day?”
Chuuya scowls, glaring over Fyodor’s shoulder. “I’m not your husband yet! And you’re not even supposed to be in here!”
“Well, I couldn’t stand not seeing Chuuya for so long so I snuck in.”
“You—” The redhead flushes at the brunet’s words, “Get out!”
Dazai ignores the redhead, nodding at Fyodor in greeting. “Nii-san.”
Fyodor nods back, the smallest of smiles appearing on his face as he suddenly wraps a hand around Chuuya’s waist, pulling the man close. “Treat him well, Dazai, otherwise I’ll steal him from you.”
Dazai snorts. “As if Chuuya would leave me. Right Chuuya?”
“...Well Fyodor does play the cello.”
“...Chuuya…”
The redhead rolls his eyes, moving away from Fyodor to give Dazai a kiss on the cheek. “It was a joke, you idiot. Now go.”
As Fyodor watches the two of them, bickering together and dressed in black and white, he realizes that what he said earlier was true.
He watches the happiness in Chuuya’s eyes and feels himself smiling.