Chapter Text
you used to dream about fires
and scream into the night
to find me standing barefoot at your side
i used to whisper it will be alright
and lay down at your side
and take your tiny hands into mine
- forest fire, brighton
i.
Nakahara Chuuya is beautiful.
Men and women, young and old, blondes and brunettes, blue-eyed and brown-eyed, good and evil. People have constantly acknowledged the epitome of beauty that is Nakahara Chuuya. He has been called beautiful countless times to the point that it holds no meaning to him anymore.
You’re beautiful. How can a man look as beautiful as you? You’ll never know how beautiful you are. It was tiring to hear the word over and over again. He despises—no—he hates that word.
*
“Ane-san, who was that boy?”
“Who?”
“The one covered in bandages.”
“That was Dazai Osamu.”
“Do you think we can be friends?”
“It’s better to stay away from him. After all, he is dangerous. A demon that walks upon earth.”
*
Chuuya lived on the streets for years, scavenging for food in the trash and sleeping in worn-out boxes. At first, it was hard for he can’t understand anything in his surroundings with writings he has never encountered and words he has never heard of.
After the events that transpired in his hometown, the only thing that was on his mind was to get out of there. He decided to jump on one of the cargo ships near the docks which brought him here, to the land of Yokohama City.
It was a tough life to live on the streets. Food was scarce due to the number of street children like him and there were days that he felt so weak after not eating for days due to the shortage of food being thrown out in the garbage by ungrateful people.
(He never gives up even when it feels like he is holding up the sky as if he replaced Atlas’ role as punishment for the curse he had laid upon his home.)
*
He only knows one thing. He isn’t himself anymore; he lost the Nahakara Chuuya in him after he felt a tremendous power coursing through his veins. Red marks are etched on his skin before he loses the ability to tell apart his surroundings. His once ocean blue eyes turn midnight black as he waltzes with Death.
This is what it feels like to be corrupted, to destroy everything on your path and to kiss it with the eternal flame. He sets the world on fire and he will make sure that even ashes won’t even remain.
This is what it means to be a monster.
*
One day, Kouyou found him during her patrol on one of Port Mafia’s territory. He was trembling from hunger and fatigue. His skin was painted with bruises and blood was dripping down his mouth after a group of boys beat him down to a pulp since he refused to give them the food he found. He couldn’t help but cry out from the pain he was experiencing, both physically and emotionally.
Kouyou took pity on him and decided to keep him under her wing. She carried the boy, not minding the dirt that could ruin the pristine kimono she was wearing and she was surprised to find out how light he was.
The sudden movement made Chuuya cried out of pain. He thought that his ribs must be broken, judging from where the pain intensified every time he tried to struggle from the woman’s hold. It didn’t take a minute for him to feel the exhaustion as he slowly drifted to sleep.
“I’ll keep you safe, my child.”
It was the last thing Chuuya remembered before the world faded black.
*
Love is such a mystery to one like Nakahara Chuuya. He has stumbled upon the word during his lesson with Kouyou. He has asked her what love was, expecting it to sound magical and extraordinary but the answer he receives disappointed him.
He is told that love is a weakness, for to love means to be vulnerable and defenseless. Love shouldn’t be forged because even if your blood, sweat, and tears were on that weapon, your enemy will still be the one to wield it and deliver the finishing blow.
That night, Chuuya swears to the stars that he will not fall in love with anyone in this world because he thinks that the pain that love can carry is not worth it.
(He doesn’t know that the stars are laughing at him for his foolishness. No one gets to escape the death grip of love.)
*
“You’re half-French, right?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Chuuya, do you know how to do a french kiss?”
“What?! No!!!”
“Too bad.”
*
It is supposed to be an ordinary day. Supposed.
Today, Chuuya is tasked to accompany Kouyou to the Port Mafia headquarters. He is going to be introduced to the boss and to say that he is nervous would be an understatement. He can't keep his hands from shaking and sweating as if they suddenly have a mind of their own and their only mission is to make Chuuya appear nervous as fuck. His legs feel like they would give out any second once Kouyou lets go of his hand.
Upon entering the office of the boss, he feels eyes on him like he is being analyzed up to the depths of his core. It feels like he was being torn apart and placed back together after the boss gets a glimpse of his soul. He is reading me like an open book.
Fortunately for Chuuya, the boss doesn’t spare him another glance after that. He thinks that it is better that way instead of being the center of attention of one of the most powerful people in Yokohama.
The boss trusts Kouyou to keep an eye on Chuuya and train him well to be a proper courtesan. After a few more exchanges, Chuuya is finally able to leave the earth’s very own hell hole disguises as a mafia boss office.
It is supposed to be an ordinary day except he meets a peculiar and intriguing boy today.
The blue-eyed boy is walking hand-in-hand with Kouyou when they come across a tall man who gives off the vibe that he can slit your throat if he chooses to and a boy who seems to be the same age as Chuuya and has bandages all over his body. On a closer look, the bandaged boy has eyes that somewhat flickers between red and brown and a face that is carved out of perfection.
He makes brief eye contact with the boy and he knows that it only lasted for a few seconds, but it feels like everything is in slow motion during a short span of time as if the two of them are in some sort of cliché romantic movie.
(At that moment, Chuuya thinks to himself that if he ever crosses path with that boy again, his life will change in more ways than one.
He is, in fact, correct.)
It is just a small interaction yet Fate was already laughing at them.
*
They are all surrounding him and wanting to tear a piece of him as if they are lions who haven’t eaten for days. Someone is holding him down so that he won’t be able to escape their hungry gazes and their touch that feels like poison on his skin.
Chuuya is trapped and there is nothing he can do. He has no ability to protect himself from these people and he is not strong enough to fight against them especially when his small stature puts him at a disadvantage.
He thinks about how foolish he is to believe that Kouyou will be able to keep him safe from the horrors of this world. He is such a fool.
(He is never safe after all.)
Just when he is about to lose hope and give up fighting back, words he hasn’t heard of spilled from his mouth.
“O grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again.”
*
"How can someone think that you are beautiful when you look like a slug?"
"Go die, asshole."
"It would be my pleasure."
*
The first time he was called beautiful, he was a 12-year-old boy. His hair was a fiery orange, giving him the impression of something foreign and untouchable, his eyes were the kind of pools that one can get drowned in with the pure innocence it reflected, and his smile can put the sun to shame with how bright it was.
His family was boarding the train when a photographer approached them and said, “Your daughter is absolutely beautiful.” Chuuya’s eye twitched from being mistaken for a girl but his heart fluttered from the compliment he received from the man. He thanked him, not bothering to correct the man about his gender for he thought that he would forget him as soon as he saw someone that was more beautiful than him.
He was so wrong.
(There are times that Chuuya thought of the what-ifs in his life. What if I chose a strawberry ice cream instead of the chocolate one? What if I studied last week? What if I slept for eight hours a day? The number of what-ifs in his life is quite impressive. But the biggest what-ifs in his life are…
What if the man didn’t see me? What if I corrected him about mistaking me for a girl? What if I didn’t ride that train? What if I didn’t thank him?
What if I wasn’t beautiful? )
That day Chuuya was separated from his parents, lost among the crowds of screaming people after the train was taken over a mafia group situated in France. It happened all too fast and before he knew it, all he could see was the image of Death sucking the life of all the people on the train. All except him.
He witnessed man after man dies in front of him, blood staining the carpets and curtains of the train. The once brown interior of the train was now painted in red with the blood of the slaughtered.
When Chuuya’s world became a deafening silence and the only one left standing was him, the photographer appeared before him. He was told that a person with the beauty his caliber will be sold off with a high value.
Chuuya never ran as fast as he could, never stopping until his legs gave out. Tears constantly streamed down his face, remembering how he had witnessed people’s life flash before them as bullets after bullets pierced their hearts.
How could beauty bestowed by the goddess of love and beauty herself be such a curse to a child with matches in his hands and fire in his heart?
*
“Rest now.”
Suddenly, the monster gnawing at his soul disappears after he feels a firm grip wrapped around his wrist. The red marks that are tattooed on his skin slowly fade and his eyes that are dead black turned back to its original blue hue.
Chuuya collapses on the ground and coughs out blood. He realizes that he was bleeding all over when feels warm blood trickle down his face. There was blood running down his nose, mouth and even in his eyes.
(It is a price to pay for such a strong power he holds inside of him. An ability that consumes his own life. The more he uses it, the more it kills him.
For the Tainted Sorrow. A befitting ability for someone whose soul is smudged with the darkest of black.)
He checks his surroundings, only to find out pure destruction. The courtesan house was nowhere to be seen, instead, there are numbers of abnormalities on the ground. He closes his eyes and took a deep breath.
What have I done?
He is so damn tired. Everything hurts. A part of him wants to be happy because he finally found out about his ability. He has an ability. But at the same time, it feels like there are chains being locked up on his limbs, taking away his freedom.
“Hey, are you okay?” someone asks beside him.
Chuuya looks up to find Dazai staring at him. There is a cut on his forehead but it is nothing serious and he is still covered in bandages like the first time he met him.
He is so close to him, close enough that he can see the color of his eyes clearly. It is the warmest chocolate brown yet he can’t stop himself from thinking about how cold it is. His brown locks seem to dance with the wind in the most aesthetic way possible. Dazai is… pleasing to look at.
“Done checking me out, Chibi?”
“Fuck you.”
*
“I hate you with every inch of my being.”
“Well, that’s not a lot of inches, Hat-rack.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
*
It is during a mission with Dazai when Chuuya dares to use the word beautiful on someone. They are on the docks of Yokohama taking a breather after they took down a few men who are being a nuisance to Port Mafia.
The sun is just setting, painting the sky with the warmest colors while darkness clashes with it. The two are silently watching the sunset when Chuuya decides to glance at Dazai. The sky is a gorgeous contrast to Dazai and the light accentuates his features perfectly. At that moment, Chuuya realizes something.
Dazai Osamu is beautiful.
He can't help but freeze as the realization struck him. He looks at Dazai intensely, trying to find out what made him think about that, what made him think that Dazai Osamu and beautiful fit in one sentence.
It was too late when Chuuya realizes that he was staring at Dazai for far too long. Dazai is looking back at him, confusion painting on his face but there is still an evident smirk on his lips. Before he can stop himself, Chuuya utters the words he has no intention to say.
“You’re not so bad after all.”
Dazai doesn’t say anything from Chuuya’s sudden remark. They watch the sun as it kisses the moon to say goodbye once again. Silence falls upon them as if to mourn over the impossible love between the sun and the moon.
(Chuuya hopes that if he ever falls in love, it wouldn’t be like the sun and the moon.)
Night falls and they walk back together to the headquarters to report what has transpired today to the boss. Dazai decides to break the silence between them when they are only a few meters away from their destination.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
And Chuuya can’t stop the grin on its way to his face.
*
He knows that Dazai Osamu is beautiful. He still can’t quite grasp what makes him beautiful to his eyes. Maybe it has something to do with how his hair falls, highlighting his best features or perhaps the way his eyes glint every time he finds a new game that excites him.
Sometimes, Dazai reminds Chuuya of fireworks. Like Dazai, fireworks are beautiful from afar but when you get close to them, they can burn you. He can’t possibly tell Dazai that he is beautiful, not when he knows that it would only boost the other’s pride and ego.
He doesn’t want that.
He thinks it’s better this way. It is better to just admire his beauty from afar.
(The problem is that Chuuya already knows what makes Dazai beautiful yet he still doesn’t want to admit what it is. To him, admitting it would be like being submerged into the Atlantic and then being sent to the desert to cool off.
Or, maybe, he just finds it weird.)
*
Dazai wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as his looks.
He is beautiful deep down his soul.
(It takes Chuuya years to admit it but when he finally does, it felt like he has finally discovered all the secrets of the universe.)