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It wasn’t a well known fact.
Honestly only a handful of people knew really, such as Mori, Kouyou, some subordinates and of course Dazai.
Chuuya could Dance and Dazai was weak.
Chuuya’s fascination for dance, specifically energetic and rough free style, started when Mori was invited to a dance competition of sorts, and in a moment of kindness to the newest and yourngest members, he took the two boys as well as Kouyou, to see it.
Dazai didn’t care, if anything he hated it.
It was loud; there was nothing interesting there so he was just plain bored. He wasn’t a fan of exercise and he felt exhausted from simply watching the dancers.
Chuuya on the other hand, was enthralled, yelling and whooping, and unable to stay still, watching in awe. It got so bad, that both Kouyou and Dazai, both who were sitting next to the oranged-haired teen, hand to hold him back from jumping and moving around too much.
After everything, Chuuya claimed that he wanted to dance like that, and Dazai simply sighed, hoping that this new found obsession didn’t last.
Now, after almost 6 years, he was grateful that the obsession never passed, and that Chuuya dedicated a healthy amount of time into Dance, usually practicing every day like his martial arts.
Because Chuuya was honestly a stunning sight to behold.
It was one of Chuuya’s rare free days, and Dazai knew what he did on his free days.
He danced like no tomorrow.
And Dazai wanted to see. He was gone for 4 years of his 6 years of obvious training. And Chuuya was good after two years of training, determined to catch up to the levels of the kids his age that spent almost the majority of their childhood simply doing that.
You really couldn’t blame Dazai for being curious.
He followed Chuuya to where he normally went to do his dance, and watched, enthralled.
Dazai hated dancing, but if Chuuya told him to join in, he don’t think he could say no.
He only realised when his own brown eyes met with blue that he felt the uncomfortable tightness in his pants.
It got worse when Chuuya simply smiled, like he knew.
Dazai left, going right home to deal with his... ahem, problem, thinking of a stunning smaller male who could probably crush his head with his thigh.
That was a thought, a nice way to die. It wasn’t suicide, nor was it with a pretty woman, but it was by Chuuya. And if Chuuya gave that same knowing smirk, he would die happily.