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It’s another day at school. The joyous air never did once left the atmosphere despite the loud chattering of acquaintances and the frustrated sighs of students rushing through the wide hallway, probably to meet the deadlines or simply to see him enter the campus premises.
The school festival is currently at its peak after all. One of the few moments of the school year where they get to see Dazai Osamu, in all his glory, roam around and also one of the few moments they get to be blessed by his golden presence.
Dazai Osamu, that man. Just a glimpse of him and the people around him will be charmed.
Well, maybe except for the horrible sight trailing Dazai, as the people—mostly girls—would call it. But he isn’t exactly a bad view. In fact, if anyone would just take their time to look at the boy closely, they’ll be lost for words. They’ll without a doubt be mesmerized by the red locks framing his face and those azure eyes that speaks thousands and thousands of thoughts of admiration for the man before him.
It is probably that fact which makes people—mostly girls—eye the redhead with a burning envy.
“Say, Dazai-sama, why is this…” the blonde girl beside Dazai faltered then eyed the boy trailing them with such distaste before looking up again to their Dazai, eyes now devoid of any trace of disgust. “… Lackey trailing you again?” the girl continued.
Dazai Osamu shrugged, as he always did whenever this topic is brought up. He never opened his mouth to say his name nor to defend the boy. He just brushed him off, as he always did.
Has it been days? Has it been weeks? Has it been months? Has it even been years? Dazai couldn’t recall. He couldn’t remember since when did the boy started following his steps, literally. He racked his brain for answers but all he could come up was nothing. He did nothing in particular yet one day he just found that he isn’t alone anymore.
Dazai didn’t care, as long as he isn’t stopping him with his daily shenanigans. He didn’t care, even though the boy bothers himself to take the long way to his own home just to make sure Dazai makes it to their mansion safely. He didn’t care, even though the boy sacrifices his own lunch time just to make sure someone would fetch Dazai his next book on queue when he finishes the one he’s holding. He didn’t care, even though the boy lets himself get wet just to make sure he’s shedding Dazai from the cold and heavy drops of the rain.
Dazai didn’t really care, really. But why…
“Dazai-sama—“ the blonde moaned through the kiss. Dazai adjusted his hand at the small of her back, deepening the intimacy between them. Yet, he can’t seem to find what he was looking for. He felt nothing until he heard the soft rustling behind them. He opened his eyes only to catch a glimpse of the familiar redhead running away.
Dazai didn’t care, really. But why did he found himself pushing her aside to run after the boy? He can just shrug him off, as he always did so why run after him now?
“Wait!” Dazai said it as loud as he can, when he was just a few meters away from the boy. Dazai crouched on his knees, trying to catch his breath. When he looked up, his gaze met the boy’s azure ones. The boy was taken aback by the sight before him only for a second. Once he realized what was happening, he immediately made his way to where Dazai is.
Dazai straightened his posture and dusted the nonexistent dirt on his sand-colored coat, all without breaking their gazes. Then it was his turn to be taken aback when the boy fished something out of his pocket and handed it to him.
A handkerchief.
He wasn’t sure why he gave him one but Dazai followed his instinct to use it to wipe his most probably stained lips.
He directed his gaze to the boy’s features once again and he felt his system well up with irritation and rage.
“Why…” Why aren’t you angry at me, after seeing that? Dazai wanted to ask but he caught his tongue. He has no right to; he already convinced himself that he didn’t care after all. But the anger still found its way to his system somehow. He’s pissed by the understanding face the boy makes, the one he always wear whenever Dazai does something unreasonable. Dazai hates it that the boys seems to know his feelings and thoughts very well when he himself couldn’t get a grasp to the foreign feeling inside him.
“Why do you always follow me?” Dazai finally manages to breathe out the question he didn’t bother to ask all this time. His voice almost cracked, the question sounded more like a desperate plea. Then he realized it, it was the first actual time that he tried to talk to him.
The boy blinked several times; as if he can’t believe that Dazai was addressing him directly. Then his expression of utter shock melted into the sweetest smile Dazai had ever seen.
The boy closed the distance between them, taking slow and delicate steps as light as feather. Dazai held his stand even when the boy tried to caress the side of his face. The familiar warmth of his hand hovered over his skin but they never touched. He saw the aching resignation flash across the boy’s face as if knowing that whatever timeline they are, it will never, ever touch.
The boy closed his hand to a fist, before bringing it back to his side. Dazai felt it again, the foreign feeling crawling at his senses ever since he met him; and the fact he doesn’t like it. He despised it.
Contrary to his expression just a few seconds ago, the boy smiled at him. The smile that was so close to his heart.
“Because you’re my Dazai.” he said so softly. Then the boy started to take backward steps, Dazai was about to follow when he noticed something make its way down to the boy’s cheek. He stopped halfway his step; the dark grey clouds looming above them both became more evident to him. Even the cold breeze slapping against their skin became more prominent. It made Dazai shudder.
“And please…” the boy faltered as he stopped taking steps away from him. “Wipe your tears because I won’t be there to wipe it for you anymore.”
That’s when Dazai knew that he was crying too.
-
Dazai stayed on comfortable bed the following days. He was feeling rather hollow. Like there’s a part of his heart that was left empty and there’s no way to fill that void.
A knock on his door interrupted his train of thoughts. It took him a moment to recollect himself before finally deciding to leave his pile of comforters and open his door for the first time after several days.
He wasn’t greeted by the huge tray containing variety of breakfast delicacies nor the servants bringing him more comforters and books. Instead, what greeted him was the anxious face of his butler tapping his leather shoes over the carpeted floor simultaneously.
“What’s bothering you so early in the morning, Hirotsu-san?” Dazai asked with disinterest. Hirotsu swallowed the lump in his throat before answering with a shaky voice.
“Dazai-sama, the plane tickets for your trip… they’re missing.”
Dazai raised his brows.
“What? Then book new ones again. Money’s not an issue.” he answered calmly despite the distress his butler seems to be in. He was about to close the huge door to his face but Hirotsu put a hand on the knob, preventing it from closing on him.
“Also, our luggages were missing too. Well, ours are no problem at all but…” the butler faltered. Dazai raised his eyebrows in annoyance. He’s already in a foul mood and his butler hanging him on just made it worse.
“Most of your things are burned. We only noticed it when it’s—“
Dazai stared at him a moment longer, his mind blank, thinking if he heard it right or his butler’s just messing up with him to make him step out of his room. But based on how Hirotsu fidgets on the ends of his gloves, Dazai could tell that it’s unlikely for him to be messing around.
Usually, he will pay it no mind. He’ll close his door and would tell them to buy new set of things. They’re rich as heck after all. But he recalled what he was told.
Most of your things were burned.
His thoughts immediately flew to the thing he’s kept hidden inside one of his drawers. Seems like the last statement had shaken him up as he practically leaped to the other side of his enormous room, to rummage the cabinet where he keeps his most important possessions. He noticed that the first four of the drawers were left slightly ajar, as if the theft was in a hurry. His laptop was gone, along with the few documents and papers that he needs to pass within this week. As well as the reports he had worked so hard for the past few days. But neither of them matters to Dazai. All he could think of was the last drawer.
As he tried to pull it, relief washed over his features and some of the stress on his shoulders has been lifted. But he will never be fully relieved until he sees that it’s safe and sound inside.
When he inserted the key and pulled it, he sighed out of relief.
A day after and Dazai decided to attend his classes. He hasn’t said a word yet the news seems to spread like a wild fire. Students were flocking around him, muttering words of comfort although he didn’t really need one. The teachers were also reassuring him, saying that he doesn’t have to worry about passing his requirements at a later date.
When he stepped out of his house and onto the campus, the first thing he noticed wasn’t the worried questions of the people or the looks of pity thrown at him. It was the fact that today, no redhead was trailing him.
Dazai shrugged it off, as he always did. He thought that maybe, he’s sick. Maybe he’s doing something important. The thought of the boy prioritizing something more important than him left a bitter taste in Dazai’s mouth.
Maybe he’s sick. Dazai decided to stick to that.
Then later that day the news of Flight J046—the plane he’s supposed to be in—crashing on the port of Yokohama had spread like a wild fire too.
-
Maybe he’s sick. Three weeks passed and Dazai’s thoughts started to sound like he was desperately convincing himself.
Still no redhead trailing him but that’s not something to be worried off. There’s no way the things that happened almost a month ago were connected. Those are just a bunch of coincidences. Or so he says but Dazai’s starting to think otherwise.
Whenever he starts drifting to those thoughts, he would shake his head and would start his mantra. No, no, no.
“Have you seen the boy always following me?”
He asked Higuchi one day. The blonde scrunched her brows at him in confusion and acted like she’s thinking. She finally came out with a response seconds later.
“The ones always following you are ladies, Dazai-sama.” She answered him as a matter of fact.
“I’m talking about the boy, that redhead always trailing me.” he insisted but Higuchi only stared at him dumbly. “You seem to hate him, how can you forget?” Dazai continued but she only shook her head wildly.
“Hirotsu-san, have you seen the redhead who always comes home with me?” Dazai then asks his butler while leisurely sitting on the velvet couch, listening to the news. Hirotsu looked at him the same way Higuchi looked at him earlier.
“You always come home alone, Dazai-sama.”
“Huh? You’re the one who opens the gate for me, how can you not know!” this time, Dazai was not able to hide the frustration in his voice. Hirotsu looks down, thinking, and then he asks Dazai back.
“What’s his name? I can send people to look for him if you want, Dazai-sama.” Hirotsu smartly offers and something struck Dazai.
He has never realized it, but he wasn’t able to ask the boy’s name.
Dazai stood up and threw the vase beside him in one smooth movement, much to his butler’s shock. The shards flew around the wide living room’s space and one of the smaller pieces had cut through Dazai’s left cheek, the cut eliciting droplets of blood.
“Dazai-sama!” the servants scattered around him, calling his name in unison. One even tried to tend to his wound but Dazai yelled for all of them to stop and get out of his way.
He balled both of his hands to a fist, before storming angrily out of the living space up to his bedroom. Before leaving, he caught the certain line from the news.
Out of Flight J046 sixty-eight passengers, only sixty-seven were found.
And that was the last straw for Dazai. He made his way to his bedroom, ignoring the stinging sensation on his cheek and the calls for his name. His whole body was shaking and saggy; his legs barely able to support his frame.
He opened the door to his room with sweaty hands and jumped off to his cabinet’s fifth drawer. The drawer was halfway open when his mind became hazy, all of currents thoughts and worry, even the reason why he’s currently crouching down to this specific drawer lost.
He blinked once, twice. He heard an almost inaudible voice calling out to him at the back of his mind then he blinked again.
Why… why is he here again?
He suddenly became aware of the pain on his cheek. He reached out to it and his mouth fell by the sight of the crimson liquid coating his fingers. He winced. The adrenaline rush wasn’t there anymore and he felt fatigue invading his senses.
Wipe your tears because I won’t be there to wipe it for you anymore.
“Shit!” Dazai yelped once again when the voice started ringing in his ears. He looked around his room frantically, looking for someone.
“That’s it… I’m looking for someone.” He concluded though unsure. But who? The other question remained unanswered.
He peered down on the drawer he’s halfway on opening. There isn’t a single light lit in his room, only the faint moonlight that shines behind the clouds. Dazai opened it fully, now completely clueless to what he might find inside. As he pulled it, he found a piece of cloth lying inside alone. It was folded carefully and neatly.
Dazai took it in his hands and in the corner, he found a name embroidered.
Chuuya.
For who it is, Dazai can only wonder.