Chapter Text
Dazai can and will confidently say that his planning skills are utter perfection. In every plan he's made, every detail locked down, every component carefully planned (backups included), and every involved person is accounted for.
All his plans are executed smoothly, without a hitch, because Dazai plans everything to a T, comes up with backup plans in case things go awry, and backup plans for the backup plans because hey, it never hurts to be too safe, right?
Dazai's been praised for his plans, called a genius, a prodigy, a mastermind . He's the one his classmates go to in a group project, he's the one who plans strategies during physical education games, he's one of the top students in his grade for his intellect and brains.
So yes, Dazai Osamu has every right to confidently say that his planning skills are utter perfection. Hence why when he begins his biggest scheme yet, he doesn't expect anything to really go wrong.
Because how wrong could a confession go?
—
Dazai first realizes his feelings for Nakahara Chuuya approximately four years, eight months, and twenty-two days into knowing him.
They're fifteen years old and strolling about the streets of Yokohama on a crisp autumn day. The sun simmers in the sky—brilliant with light and yet not hot enough to burn—and the sky is a dull shade of blue-gray, mixed with silvery clouds that shade the sun every twenty-some minutes.
It's the sort of weather that Dazai adores; the unpredictability of the sun and sky and the wind makes for an interesting day, one that keeps Dazai on his toes with change. It's also the sort of weather that Chuuya hates; it's the sheer unpredictability that annoys him, because he can't plan his clothes accordingly and he can't match the weather.
"Seriously," Chuuya gripes as a faint breeze passes by, "the weather needs to make up its fucking mind. This is ridiculous."
He pulls his blazer tighter around him with a heavy scowl that Dazai can't help but laugh at. On anyone else, it would be intimidating and frightful, but on Chuuya's tiny face, it's almost adorable . Chuuya's scowl deepens as his blue eyes peers back up at Dazai, lips curled in distaste.
(His hardened sapphire gaze wracks a spark in Dazai's flinty cold heart and Dazai shudders, not entirely from the cold.)
"The hell are you laughing at?!"
Dazai grins at his best friend and ruffles his hair. The loose orange locks are soft to the touch, almost like silk, and Dazai yanks his hand away, before he finds himself threading through them and unable to tear away. His hand feels hot, almost like he's touched a live flame, and in comparison to Chuuya's vibrant orange-red hair, he doesn't think he's entirely off.
"The tiny chibi, obviously," he chirps instead, shoving his hand into the pocket of his tan coat. "Who else would I bully on this fine day?"
"Anyone and everyone," Chuuya quips back, rolling his eyes. "You're a fucking menace who likes to bother everyone."
"Menace?" Dazai feigns surprise, widening his eyes innocently and jutting his lip out ever-so-slightly. He can hear Chuuya scoff underneath his breath, but he doesn't drop the innocent facade. "I think the word you're looking for is charming . Though I doubt you know what that word is, considering you've never charmed anyone and you have a tiny chibi brain."
A lie: Dazai knows perfectly well that Chuuya is popular with their classmates and teachers, with his kindhearted personality and good looks. Dazai's seen firsthand the sheer amount of confessions Chuuya receives in his shoe locker and the surprised, yet pleased smiles of their teachers when Chuuya makes conversation with them.
The tiny chibi brain may be an accurate observation though, but Dazai would never really know.
Nevertheless, Chuuya makes an offended sputtering sound and Dazai laughs out loud again.
"Really, I'm kidding chibikko," he says cheerfully and Chuuya stops mid-step to arch an eyebrow at Dazai.
"Really," he deadpans dryly.
"Mostly," Dazai amends, and he barely dodges when Chuuya leaps at him, fist raised for a punch. "Ah! A sheepdog's attacking me!"
"I'M GONNA KILL YOU ASSHOLE!"
—
They end up at a cafe after Chuuya unsuccessfully tries to beat Dazai to death in the middle of the sidewalk. The waitress sits them on the patio, underneath an umbrella that shades the almost nonexistent sun and bares them raw to the unrelenting winds that flutter by. Chuuya forces Dazai to pay for drinks, snatching his wallet in one of their skirmishes across the table, and sliding the bills to the waitress before Dazai can steal it back.
"Chibiii!" Dazai whines, staring forlornly into his empty wallet as the waitress whisks by with their drinks. "That was the last of my money!"
"You deserved it," Chuuya deadpans flatly, leaning back against his chair to sip at his black coffee. "Payback for every time you made me pay for your food."
"What can I say?" Dazai shrugs. "I'm a broke student."
A foot kicks into Dazai's shin and he hisses at the sudden contact as Chuuya rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time that day. "No, you're not. You're just stingy as hell, mackerel."
"I am not! I call it being frugal!"
"Yeah and then you go waste my money. Keep the same energy, dickhead."
"Again, frugal," Dazai emphasizes. "Also I took money out of your wallet, so technically, the money in my wallet was yours."
"You asshole—"
"Ooh look at that tree~! Do you think I could hang myself from it?"
"Fuck no! We talked about this!"
Dazai smirks and flutters his eyelashes. "Aww, does Chuuya care about my health? I can't believe Chuuya's such a good person!"
"No way, I hope you freeze in hell." Chuuya declares, just as a harsh wind bites at their skin. Chuuya shudders at the cold, tightening his grip around the blazer. "Fuck, it's cold."
"Aw, is the little chibi actually the one freezing in hell?" Dazai croons as he shrugs out of his tan coat. He ambles around the table to wrap Chuuya in his coat, ignoring the other's shocked wheezing noises as he fastens the first few buttons of the coat, hands trembling all the while.
(Dazai's hands do not shake, do not tremble because he is steady and he is confident in himself, but Chuuya seems to have that fluttery-heartbeat-shaking-hands sort of effect on him and Dazai won't admit that he's frightened of what that effect brings.)
"There you go!" Dazai forces a smile onto his face, quickly shoving his quivering hands into the pockets of his tan dress pants. "Now my sheepdog won't completely freeze to death!"
Chuuya gingerly brushes his fingers across the jacket buttons before he looks up at Dazai, eyes wide with a soft vulnerability that Dazai rarely sees.
"Thanks, shitty mackerel," Chuuya says quietly, and Dazai's heart does a tap-dance of beats.
Chuuya's eyes, once the color of hard sapphires, are blue as a sweet summer sky, and the corner of his pretty pink lips are upturned ever-so-slightly, like the curve of a crescent moon. The bow of his lips leads to the splash of warm star-freckles across his cheeks, carrying up and into the long, dark eyelashes and the crinkle in his eyes when he smiles and— oh .
Oh .
Dazai tilts his head at Chuuya and feels the smile on his lips turn a little more real. "Anything for my petite slug."
—
Dazai gets his genius idea approximately two years, six months, and eight days after he realizes that he's in love with Nakahara Chuuya. It takes him approximately two seconds to consider it and two minutes to come up with a well-formulated plan.
When he breezes into school the next morning, he's jittery with excitement, drumming his fingers against his desk and leg bouncing underneath his desk.
Atsushi stops him in the hallway after lunch, question clear in his eyes. "Dazai-senpai, are you alright? You seem jittery today."
"Perfectly fine!" he hums. "There's a new suicide method I plan to try after school. If you know any pretty ladies who are interested—"
"Quit tormenting the poor kid and let's go, shitty mackerel." Chuuya appears at Dazai's side, hand clenched around the hem of his sleeve. "We're gonna be late for class."
"I'm never late!" Dazai whines petulantly as Chuuya drags him away from Atsushi, who's waving him goodbye. "I was in the middle of an enthralling conversation, Chuu~ya~!"
Chuuya scoffs, blue eyes flashing. "Sure, dumbass. What are you really excited about anyways?"
"A new suicide method, weren't you—"
"Listening?" Chuuya snarks. He releases Dazai's sleeve when they reach their classroom. "I know when you're lying, asshole. I can smell it from a mile away."
"Chuuya really is a sheepdog~!" Dazai beams at Chuuya, successfully eliciting a growl from the other. "He knows me so well!"
"I've known you for over six years, dumbass. Even if I didn't wanna know about you, you still would've forced me to learn anyways," Chuuya deadpans and Dazai's grin grows wider. "So?" Chuuya continues, eyebrow lifted. "What's up?"
"I'm seeing Odasaku today~!" Dazai sings and he watches as Chuuya's eyes darken slightly. "Important planning to do, so no need to wait for me after school!"
The bell rings and Chuuya casts a frown at Dazai. The shadow on his face is enough to tell Dazai everything he wants to know.
"Alright," is all Chuuya says and he leaves Dazai's side to take his seat. Dazai's eyes trail his every step before he turns his attention to the teacher.
Winning Chuuya's heart with his little confession plan would be a cinch.
—
"Odasakuuu~!" Dazai breezes into Oda's classroom, school bag tossed over his shoulder, and smile pasted on his face. "I need to talk to youuu~!"
"One moment!" A gruff voice calls from the other end of the classroom and Dazai grins as he sees the familiar head of dark red hair.
He drops his bag onto a chair and saunters over to where Oda's lying flat on the ground, the upper half of his torso tucked snugly underneath a desk.
"What're you doing, Odasaku?" Dazai questions and Oda peers out from underneath the desk.
"Scraping gum off," he says easily. "What do you need?"
"I have a plan—"
"And whatever it is, you should not do it." Ango enters the room, briefcase in hand, and expression stern. "It's bound to cause trouble for my student council, so don't do it."
Dazai pouts at the entrance of the teacher. "Ango-san! You don't even know what I was going to say!"
"I know enough," Ango replies shortly. "Just don't do it."
"Hear him out." Oda pulls himself out from underneath the desk, arms full with a pile of napkins. "What is this idea of yours, Dazai?"
Dazai grins broadly. There was a reason why Odasaku was his favorite teacher. "Well, I may have feelings for a particular chibi—"
"Haven't you been in love with him since you first met him?" Oda interrupts dryly and Dazai frowns.
Love . Such a strong word and yet...
It might be the word to describe the fiery heat in his hands and cheeks when he touches Chuuya, the hummingbird flurry in his chest when Chuuya looks at him with those brilliant eyes, the warmth in the pit of his stomach when Chuuya makes him laugh.
Has he really been in love with Chuuya since they first met?
"Perhaps," Dazai allows simply, tucking the thought away. Thankfully, neither Oda nor Ango chases the thought. "And whatever it is, I think he feels the same, so I was thinking..."
—
It takes a month to properly plan everything. Dazai gets his kouhais on board, along with some of his classmates and senpais, to help him plant the gifts around the school on the day of.
He stays back after school lets out, working out the details in Oda's classroom, until the sky turns pink and he's forced to leave.
He plans and plots every minute of the day, leading to him zoning out so often that Chuuya questions him over a study video call.
"Oi, you keep zoning out. The fuck is wrong with you?"
Ah yes, the love of Dazai Osamu's sad, miserable life: an aggressive sheepdog.
"Nothing is wrong, lovely Hatrack. I'm just tired!" Dazai lilts and Chuuya narrows his eyes at the blatant lie, before sighing.
"Whatever, shitty Dazai. Just take care of yourself, alright?"
The tinge of concern sends a flutter through his chest and he can't resist the beam. "Will do, slug."
—
Approximately ten hours before Dazai has to wake up and execute his outlandish confession plan, he's panicking.
There's no reason for Dazai to panic—after all, he's a genius, a prodigy, a mastermind at planning. His plans are foolproof and backed up with multiple backup plans. He's made sure every helper knows what they're doing and that every gift has been bought and stored in Dazai's room. His alarm is set obscenely early, so to arrive at school with enough time to spare, and he's practiced his exorbitant confession so much that it's permanently ingrained in his mind.
But despite all that, despite everything, Dazai Osamu is panicking. He can't sleep—he's pacing around the room restless—and he can't focus on anything else other than tomorrow's events.
Stupid feelings, he curses inwardly. Stupid charming chibi, being so cute and idiotic and handsome and funny and a myriad of other positive things that made Dazai fall hopelessly in love with him.
Perhaps it was inevitable that Dazai would fall in love with his chibikko. Chuuya, after all, is beautiful and kind and caring and he takes care of Dazai by making him food and calming him down from panic attacks and making him want to live rather than die early and—
Bzzt. Bzzt.
Dazai grabs his phone off the nightstand and reads the single notification on it.
Slug: u awake?
He can't help but smile at the two, small words. Not only was Chuuya endlessly kind and beautiful, but he was also finely attuned to Dazai's mind and took the time to understand him, when no one else did.
Mackerel: yeah, is chibi okay?
Slug: fine, just feeling restless tonight
Mackerel: same here as well
Dazai sighs as he shuts his phone and flops onto his bed, heart rate slowing and panic dying. Chuuya has that effect on him, he thinks. The ability to calm Dazai, no matter over text or call or in person. Chuuya would always be there for Dazai, no matter what.
Slug: are you alright? you're not having an attack, are you?
Mackerel: yes, doing fine, mon petit slug! don't worry too much about me!
Slug: unfortunately I already do. someone's gotta take care of you and I guess it better fucking be me.
Dazai's heart rattles in his rib cage and he feels himself grin broadly, feels the heat rise into his ears as he types out a message.
Mackerel: god I can't wait until we date
Wait...
Dazai releases a scream as he realizes what he sent. Shitshitshitshit.
Of all his careful planning around Chuuya, of every extravagant planning he jotted down, he managed to ruin it all by sending a text on a whim. So Dazai does the only thing he can think of at the moment. He throws his phone across his bed and lets out a voiceless scream into his pillow.
Goddammit, the impulsive, sappy messages were supposed to be from Chuuya. Being impulsive and being sappy were the two traits of Chuuya, not Dazai.
Dazai thinks ahead. Dazai considers everything before he actually says it. Dazai is a genius. Dazai is a prodigy. Dazai is a mastermind.
Not so much now.
His phone vibrates several times and Dazai shoots it a withering glare. Stupid phone. Stupid chibi. Stupid him.
It buzzes again and Dazai breathes in, breathes out, before he musters the courage to grab his phone and read the new messages.
Slug: wait what?!?!
Slug: dazai?????
Slug: daazaaaaiiiii you fucker
Slug: dazai osamu answer your phone dammit
Before Dazai can even think about what to text back, his phone begins to ring, with Chuuya’s caller ID plastered across the screen, and he picks up on a whim.
He’s immediately greeted with a shout of, “SHITTY DAZAI, ANSWER YOUR PHONE WHEN I TEXT YOU!”
“Sorry sorry,” he says, flattening himself against his mattress. “My bad?”
“Yes, your bad,” Chuuya huffs indignantly, and Dazai listens to his irritated puffs over the phone, before he finally calms down. “So what was that message about?”
“Don’t know what you mean,” Dazai blurts, then immediately cringes at how bad the lie was. Seriously, how bad was his crush getting that he couldn’t even think about his actions, much less lie?
Chuuya snorts. “Please. You don’t talk to anyone at night other than me, so it definitely wasn’t meant for anyone else. What was that message about?”
Dumb Chuuya knowing Dazai too well. It makes it too difficult to lie to him these days.
"What do you think it was about?" Dazai parrots instead, heart hammering inside of his chest and he can practically see Chuuya's scowl at the deflection.
"The hell am I supposed to know?! That's why I asked you, shitty mackerel," Chuuya snips and Dazai figures he's lost this one—there's really no worming his way out of explaining the text.
"I wanted to confess to you," Dazai says, and he takes full pleasure in hearing Chuuya's breath hitch. "I wanted to tell you that I've been in love with you since we were fifteen, and that I want to keep on loving you past fifteen and sixteen and seventeen, and that I want to be with my tiny slug until we're old and gray, and still call each other 'slug' and 'mackerel,' and 'bandage bastard' and 'chibi,' because we'll have never fallen out of love to stop calling each other idiotic names like that."
He stops for a breath, fully aware that he has Chuuya's attention and possibly, his entire heart, after his confession. But there's too much he wants to say, and honestly, fuck his preplanned speech because if Dazai doesn't tell Chuuya exactly how he feels now, he might simply explode from bottling his emotions so.
"I wanted to confess to you, Chibi, about how your hair reminds me of fire and how your eyes remind me of the ocean, and how I want to burn my hands in your flames and drown a thousand times over in the blue of your eyes, because I don't want to live a life where I can't see the precise blue of your eyes and can't burn up in your beautiful, consuming fire." A soft smile curves onto his lips at the thought of him, of them . Perhaps Odasaku was right: Dazai’s heart has always belonged to Chuuya from the start. "I don't want to live without being able to steal from you every day, without being nagged and cared for by you every passing moment, without texting you at night and calling at three in the morning to hear the sound of your voice.
"I've spent ten years without you, four years of being your best friend, and two years loving you. We're seventeen, Chuuya, and all I can think about is how I don't ever want to spend another year—no, not even another day , without seeing your smile, or hearing your voice, or losing myself in your eyes. I want to be yours, Chuuya, and I want you to be mine, because I think I've been in love with you since forever, and I don't want to go a moment more without being yours."
Dazai finishes shakily, hands quivering as he drops his phone into his lap. The line is static silent, with only the soft sound of Chuuya's breathing on the other line to let Dazai know he's still there.
Answer, Dazai silently begs. Say something, Chuuya.
(It's the first time he's put his feelings on the line like this, the first time he's laid himself bare for someone, and Dazai thinks that he would do it again for Chuuya a thousand times over.)
And then a soft sob breaks through the audio, quivering with emotion, and Dazai's heart leaps as Chuuya chokes out, "Yes, yes, yes, stupid mackerel, I want to be yours. I've always wanted to be yours."
Dazai scrabbles for his phone, gripping it tightly as he whispers, "I'm so in love with you, chibikko. You have no idea."
"I think I might," Chuuya admits quietly. "After all, I feel the same way. I've loved you since forever, Osamu ."
The sound of his given name on Chuuya's tongue hits him like a truck, and Dazai's hands feel so hot, his eyes burning with unshed tears, and his breath taken away.
Nakahara Chuuya, I am in love with you.
"But what did you mean by 'you can't wait until we date?' You thought I would say yes?" Chuuya breathes and Dazai finds himself nodding fervently, despite the fact that his darling hatrack could not see him.
"Of course. I mean, I hoped so much that you would, and I was almost sure you felt the same way." Dazai feels a grin flutter across his lips. "I'm glad I took the risk, even if it was a bit earlier than expected."
"Earlier?" Dazai can see a smile quirk on Chuuya's lips in his mind: a pretty, pink smile that turns his stomach inside out. "Did you have something planned?"
"Yes, and it was going to be big!" Dazai whines and he hears Chuuya's rough chuckle over the phone. "I was gonna hide little gifts for you all over the school and have you open them all until it leads you back to the cafe we ate at when I first fell in love with you! I had a whole confession for you and everything!"
"You can still do it," Chuuya says, mirth dancing in his voice. "I'll pretend tonight never happened and you can go about your stupid monologuing speech and giant plans."
"But it won't be the same ," Dazai wails and he's gratified to receive a snort from Chuuya.
"Still, the gesture is sweet. And I wanna see how sappy a bandage bastard can be," Chuuya objects with a sweet, almost love-stricken sigh that makes Dazai’s heart slam into his ribs.
“Was the confession not enough for you?” Dazai jokes and there’s a warm bark of laughter again. “Should I start going off on tangents about how much I want to kiss your lips and touch—”
There’s a sputter of indignation and Dazai bursts into laughter. He can practically see his hat rack burn with embarrassment: cheeks flushed an adorable shade of red and eyes sparkling like a gem under the moonlight.
“Shut up idiot,” Chuuya mumbles and there’s a soft thud in the background, as if he’s collapsed against his mattress. Dazai imagines red hair, fanned across the white of a pillow like crimson silk, slender legs tangled in the sheets, and—
His mouth goes dry as an impure thought skitters across his mind, and he shoves the image away.
Instead, he licks his lips and exhales to calm his racing heartbeat, before he croons, “Ho~? So why does Chuuya want to see my little public confession for him?”
“Maybe I like hearing how much you like me.” The words are soft and whispered, and whatever calm facade that Dazai has tried to put together falls apart instantaneously.
“Chuuya,” he murmurs, “say the word and I will tell you as many times as you need me to.”
Chuuya inhales sharply over the phone and Dazai bites down on his lip. For a moment, the line between them is silent, save for the crackle of the audio.
Dazai flattens himself against his mattress, the phone still against his ear, and he can hear the frantic flutters of his stupid heart, hear the breaths escaping his lungs, hear his mind whispering Chuuya’s name.
“Tell me then,” Chuuya says, voice hoarse. “Tell me that you like me.”
Dazai doesn’t miss a beat. “Chuuya, my darling hat rack, my lovely chibi, my adorable slug, you have always been the only one. For all the women I said I would die with, you are the only man who has given me the will to live, if only I could be by your side. I’m in love with you, and I always will be.”
There’s a cracking sob on the other side of the phone, and Dazai wishes that he’s on that other side too (perhaps if he could touch Chuuya, see those summer sky eyes, run his fingers through his silken hair, Chuuya will know, more than ever, that he will be the only one).
“Idiot,” Chuuya whispers. “Stupid bastard mackerel.”
Chuuya doesn’t say “I love you” or “I wish you were here” in response, but he doesn’t need to. The whispered pet names they keep for each other are more than enough.
“Tiny slug,” Dazai hums back. “Darling chibikko of my life.”
Chuuya makes a grumbling whine. “You’re disgusting.”
“If I’m disgusting, then you clearly have terrible taste.”
His chibi (oh dear god, his chibi) releases a ragged chuckle, followed quickly by a stifled yawn.
Dazai hums softly as Chuuya valiantly fights back another yawn, his breath stuttering through the phone. "Tired, chibi?"
"A little. I don't wanna hang up though," Chuuya admits sleepily, his words beginning to blur together. He yawns again (rather cutely, Dazai thinks privately), and Dazai can't help the low chuckle of amusement that escapes his lips. Really, Chuuya was too adorable for his own good.
"Then we won't hang up," Dazai replies softly. "I'll stay on the line until you fall asleep."
"Promise?" Chuuya's usually roughened voice is mellowed out, sweet with the promise of hazy dreams.
"Promise."
It doesn't take long for Chuuya to fall asleep after that. There's a hushed whisper from the other line that doesn't completely carry over, but Dazai hears the shape of his name and his heart races with wild abandon.
IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.
"Good night, darling chibikko," he whispers, before dropping onto his pillows and closing his eyes. The sound of Chuuya's gentle breathing carries through the phone, in time with the rise and fall of Dazai's chest, and he can't help but think that perhaps, he'd like to fall asleep like this every night, with the slight change of having the chibi's warm body next to him.
(It's the most fitful sleep Dazai's had in a long time, and he dreams of summer skies and flickering fire.)