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“Chuuya,” Kouyou whispered. Her footsteps were light as she crossed the carpeted floor of the parlor. She accepted the glass of wine offered by her brother and, with a quick lift of her skirts, sat primly on the floor beside him. “Something’s on your mind.”
“If only it were something.”
“Ah, she smiled softly. “Someone then? Someone whose name I take it you finally learned?” Chuuya laughed and shook his head. “Really, brother? It’s been six months and you still don’t know his name?”
“I suppose I’ll learn it soon enough. He’s asked to court me.”
“Shouldn’t you be gloating that both my younger siblings are to be married off before me?” Kouyou hedged, taking a careful sip of wine as she eyed her brother from the side. “First Kyouka leaves us for a shipping heir. Now you’re going to run off with a bookshop owner and I’ll be left sewing buttons on breast coats until I’m too old to see them.”
“I haven’t accepted yet,” Chuuya replied.
“For heaven’s sake, why not? It’s a suitable match, Chuuya. A match you never would have dreamed of living on the streets. Are you so attached to living off pennies you’d turn away even the chance at a good marriage--”
“Pages understands why I’ve asked to wait,” Chuuya interrupted her tirade before it could continue. They’d had this argument at least once a month over the past year. Chuuya understood where Kouyou was coming from. Their place in what could be considered slightly upper middle class was all because of the charity of Auntie Frances. To the city and its people, they were her adopted children, taken in when a friend of the family died tragically. “It’s not what you think.”
“You’ll be nothing more than a secret. A kept man, hidden from everyone and never free to pursue happiness with someone who can give you everything.”
“I’m not looking to become the bed partner of a noble Kouyou,” Chuuya snapped, standing up quickly to refill his glass. “I’m not so foolish as to--”
“Follow in my steps?” she murmured softly. She rose to her feet and dismissed his apologies with a wave of her hand. “I know you didn’t intend to bring that up. Truth be told, the fault is all mine, for even suggesting you would go down the same path.”
“I just need to know if he’s alive, Kouyou, that’s all. It may have been one night, but he shared his life with me, and I shared mine. I need to know if he found a reason to fight.”
“You have a good heart, Chuuya.” Kouyou placed a kiss against the side of his head, brushing his curls out of his face. “I don’t want to see it shattered if the Fox doesn’t return.” Chuuya leaned into the embrace of his sister, kissing her cheek before she stepped away to head to bed.
“Pages was it?” she asked, the low light of the hallway casting her silhouette in shadow. “What does he call you then, if not your name?”
“Ruffles,” Chuuya laughed. “He calls me Ruffles.”
***
The windows of Chuuya’s room gave him an unobstructed view of the shops across the way. He’d never paid much mind to the lights of candles in the windows at night, far too busy in his own head, his own dreams, and once he’d learned to read, books of his own bought with his money. His delight when a bookshop opened across the street could barely be contained.
“Pages, a rather appropriate name for a bookshop,” Kyouka commented, turning slightly so Chuuya could pin a ruffle in place to the hem of her dress. Layers of cream silk and lace cascaded from her tiny waist, the beading along the bodice shimmered from the light of the sun coming in through the large windows. “Have you been in yet?”
Chuuya shook his head, the pins he held in his teeth preventing him from speaking.
“He’s avoiding the owner,” Kouyou commented from her sewing table, a tiny version of Kyouka’s dress in front of her, nearly finished.
“Is he now?”
Chuuya pinned the last ruffle and stepped back to admire his handiwork. This would be the best dress to come from their shop. A small part of him was giddy knowing that it would draw even more clientele, ones with bigger pockets.
“I’ll have you know I was there just yesterday,” he quipped, eager to get his sisters to cease their chittering.
The bookshop was warm and inviting, the front room lit by the sun coming through large windows. Chuuya let himself daydream for a moment of what the place would be like in winter.
A roaring fire in the now cold hearth, the smell of parchment heightened as the pages themselves snuggled in.
He could hear the owner talking to someone towards the back of the shop, so naturally he stayed well away and kept towards the front.
So maybe he was avoiding the owner, a little. Kouyou was half right, but Chuuya wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction. In his sister’s mind, Chuuya was so flustered by the beauty of the man he’d tripped and in the process upended an entire box of ruffled lace in his face the day he’d come to introduce himself.
“Well hello, Ruffles,” a lilting voice with an edge of mockery made Chuuya shiver despite himself. “I wondered when you’d finally come say hello.”
Chuuya turned away from the display of poetry books and faced the man who’d he’d last seen behind a curtain of lace. That voice had been the only reason Chuuya had so gracelessly fallen and made an absolute fool of himself. “Was my first hello not memorable enough?” he asked, a wry smile in place to keep what was left of his pride intact.
Whether it was a loose nail in a floorboard, that the man didn’t seem to know how to walk on his sticks for legs, or the universe decided to give Chuuya a break for once; before the man could say another word, he toppled forward and the entire stack of unbound paper he’d been carrying fell over them in a cascade.
Chuuya, biting back giggles, knelt before the sprawled figure and lifted the paper that had stuck itself to his head. “Hello again, Pages. We really should learn to walk when we’re around each other.”
They’d never bothered to go by any other name than the teasing ones they’d touched on that day. Unbeknownst to anyone else, what had caused Chuuya to fall over himself had been Page’s voice. It stirred a memory within Chuuya that had his chest aching and he lost his footing, rushing forward to see if it was Dazai, there in his dress shop, alive and well.
“Kiss me again Chuuya, I want to remember your lips in my dreams.”
Chuuya watched the single flame in the window across the way go out and snuffed his own out as well. He held no illusions of a future with Dazai.
Nobility bound him to a path laid out from the moment of his birth. Even if he got himself out from under the thumb of his guardian, he was still held to a set of standards that couldn’t be ignored.
So when Pages had asked Chuuya permission to court him, his hesitation came not from a place of misguided hope. Moreso, it came from the need for closure.
Across the street Chuuya glimpsed his future through the windows, lit by the flame of a single candle before snuffing out, letting darkness settle.
“I’m not saying no.”
“But you’re not saying yes.”
“After Christmas,” Chuuya said, smiling as he held Page’s hand. “There’s something I need to do, or well, someone I need to see.”
“A secret lover?” Pages teased, squeezing Chuuya’s hand back with a strange sort of possessiveness.
Chuuya snorted, shaking his head. “A friend, that’s all.”
“Then I will wait for you,” Pages replied, pushing a lock of Chuuya’s hair behind his ear. “After all, the best things in life are worth waiting for.”
***
Dazai frowned at his reflection, fiddling with his tie for the fifth time that evening. His brother, no doubt wondering what was taking him so long, eventually came upstairs and with little teasing; had Dazai’s tie looped, knotted, and even adjusted the buttons on his vest.
“I swear I know how to dress myself,” Dazai sighed, watching Oda’s nimble fingers at work. “It’s been nearly a year, I just--“
“Haven’t worn finery in some time,” Oda reminded him with a reassuring smile. His brother’s influence was the one thing that had kept Dazai above water over the last year. Well, that and the memory of blue eyes, a passionate heart, and soft and urgent kisses.
Amid his abdication and passing on of his title, Dazai had come across statements detailing a monthly sum to one Sakunosuke Oda and his young daughter Sakura. The man was a dead ringer for Dazai’s father in his youth and the two had embraced, somehow knowing they were brothers. Oda and Sakura had joined Dazai in the city, both for better opportunities and because Dazai had begged. He had never been on his own, had never lived a life without someone waiting on him. Oda would be the one to teach him to exist as a common man.
“Are you nervous?”
Dazai bit his lip. The answer was complicated. No doubt why Oda had asked. Besides preparing Dazai to live amongst the people, he also slowly coaxed his brother into learning to be vulnerable, to communicate, to not sink back into the hole he’d let himself wallow in for so long.
“I know he loves me,” Dazai said, more to his own reflection than anyone else. “That’s why I did this. I had to have a chance to know him as myself and not as a lord indulging whims for an evening. He saved my life, and I needed to meet him on equal ground. I can’t predict his response,” he laughed weakly. “That terrifies me and yet makes me feel more alive than I have in some time.”
“Papa! Knuckle Samu! We’re going to be late!”
Dazai groaned despite genuinely loving the mispronouncing of his name. The title of uncle was one that Dazai treasured more than the one he’d been born with. It came with a sense of happiness and belonging.
“Onward into the fray,” he sighed, giving his brother one last smile before descending the steps to swing his niece into a hug, complimenting her beautiful dress and remarking she must truly be a princess to look so lovely.
***
Chuuya watched a little girl be twirled around the dance floor by her father, a tiny tiara on her head and a brilliant smile on her face. His attention was more on her dress: it was hard not to, since he recognized the style, the stitching, and the fabric. It was one of their most expensive pieces, Kouyou’s pride and joy, and there it was on a child whose father looked to be incapable of such a fee.
Kouyou stood on the threshold of the dancefloor, her mask keeping her emotions hidden, but Chuuya could see the slight hint of bitterness as she watched the dancers. Chuuya approached with a drink: plum punch, her favorite. “Wilde must have been gossiping about the vintages again. This is steps above last year.”
“I’m beginning to think Wilde is the one providing the alcohol. Dickens is apparently a teetotaller.”
“That is hardly shocking,” she mused. “Get on with it then.”
“On with what, dear sister?”
“You’re going to chide me for letting that dress go for pennies when it was worth pounds.”
“I remember a time that even Auntie Frances sold some of her best work to those who couldn’t afford it. I’m just curious as to what pushed you to do it.”
“It seemed a good time to let it go.”
“Does this have anything to do with Doctor Yosano’s engagement to Sir Kunikida?”
The couple in question passed by, completely unaware of anyone else in the room. A rare smile could be seen on the professor’s face and his fiance matched it equally. It was a fit match in more ways than one.
“I’m happy for Akiko, she’s lucky to have affection for her intended. I had nary a hope that she would choose to settle down with me. We’re equal in many ways, but her station is too far above mine. Besides, I’ve since found other reasons to be happy, as you may well have noticed.”
“I didn’t just recognize the dress,” Chuuya replied with a smirk. “The tall redheaded gentleman has been in our shop a lot as of late, especially for someone who has little need for frilly dresses.”
“Her name is Sakura,” Kouyou said, softness in her voice and a hint of tears in her eyes. “She told me I was the most beautiful lady she’d ever met, and that her father said I was even more lovely than all the dresses in the shop. Sakunosuke is a gentleman and though he has spent more time than needed in my presence, he’s yet to call on me.”
“I’ve never known you to wait for what you want.”
“Sometimes waiting makes getting what you want even more rewarding.”
“So I have heard,” Chuuya sighed. There had been no sign of Dazai, no regal fox in fine silks brooding in windows. Just a sea of merrymakers, all of them blissful and content. Kouyou bid him farewell and left to no doubt join their little sister and her university friends. Chuuya considered another drink when he felt a chill run down his spine. The feeling of being watched overwhelmed him and he spun, searching the crowd.
There, near the halls to the depths of the manse, stood a fox in the clothes of a simple gentleman, the mask on his face bone white and free of any adornments. Chuuya walked towards him as though in a trance: it had to be, even without all the frills he knew that posture, knew the way it felt to be watched by the enigmatic Lord.
“You came,” Chuuya whispered, allowing Dazai to take his hand to press a kiss to it. “You’re alive.”
“It is in thanks to you, little lamb,” Dazai said, a smile on his face that Chuuya never imagined would be there. The smiles he’d seen the year before were soft and tinged with woe. This smile was bright, full of honesty, and it made Chuuya’s heartache as much as it brought him joy. “Shall we find a more quiet place to speak?”
Chuuya nodded, the lump in his throat prevented him from being able to speak. In the depths of his heart he knew he loved this man and was absolutely captivated by him after just one evening. But he knew that love was a fantasy built on the memories of their kiss. It was one night, and after tonight it would never happen again. Because there was someone else who Chuuya felt he loved more, someone who both infuriated and delighted him, and he knew that saying goodbye to Dazai was the only way to set his heart free to give to Pages.
They found the same room from the previous year blessedly unoccupied. The moment the door shut closed, Chuuya pulled Dazai into a fierce and heartfelt embrace. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come. That you’d given up.”
“How could I give up when I knew you’d be there waiting?”
Silence settled around them. The faintest sounds of the band playing down the hall created a soft melody against the backdrop of the full moon over fallen snow. They danced, neither able to speak, simply too overwhelmed by how it felt to be in the presence of the other. But as the bells chimed that it was half-past eleven, Chuuya knew he had to do what must be done, as much as it was breaking his heart to do so.
“Dazai,” he said, holding Dazai’s hands, doing his best to ignore how perfectly his own fit in them. “I can’t see you again after this. We both know that we could never properly be together. You are beholden to your duties and I am beholden to myself, to accept nothing less than a true and public relationship. Not one to be hidden behind closed doors.” Dazai listened intently, never once interrupting Chuuya as he professed his affections for him. “I will never forget you, or these two magical nights we have shared. My heart, a part of it will always be yours. But there is someone that I wish to give all of it to.”
“He is a lucky man,” Dazai said, voice somber. “And of good standing to be worthy of a beauty and treasure as yourself.”
Chuuya blushed behind his mask, thankful it was there to hide his embarrassment. “Pages is very good to me, he sees me and all my flaws, and I see his. I only wished to see you one last time, so I could be sure that he is the one I love most.”
“I understand,” Dazai replied, lifting Chuuya’s chin to look into his eyes. “I should very much love to see your face, and to be given the privilege of kissing you, one last time.”
“Only if you will permit me to see yours.”
Dazai smiled as his hands came up to release the bow holding Chuuya’s mask in place. His hands trembled as they caressed Chuuya’s cheeks, marvelling at the perfection of his skin. “You are even more beautiful than I dreamt.” He chuckled when crimson cast itself across Chuuya’s cheeks and he felt the heat under his fingertips. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.
Chuuya did as he was asked and felt a flutter in his chest at the barest whisper of silk ribbon coming undone. He kept his eyes shut even as Dazai’s hand came to rest against his cheek again, wanting to make the magic last just a moment longer.
Their lips met and Chuuya felt as though he might fly away, carried off into the night by his fox. His mysterious love, who came to him one night a year, danced with him as though they’d been partners forever, and kissed him as though his life could be drawn from Chuuya’s lips. He felt Dazai sigh as he pulled away, and Chuuya braced himself to see the man he would never forget.
“You.”
***
Time slowed as Chuuya’s gaze finally settled on Dazai, his heart beat faster as he watched Chuuya approach him.
“You came.”
“Nothing in this world could have kept me from being here tonight.” He kept his thoughts to himself, deciding instead to bring Chuuya’s hand to his lips to kiss those beautiful fingers, rough from years of making fabric into works of art. Dazai had spent his first weeks in the city just staring across the street, wondering which dresses in the window were of Chuuya’s hand.
“You’re alive.”
“It is in thanks to you, little lamb.” he couldn’t help the smile that appeared. His careful masks of days gone were slowly vanishing each day, allowing him to be himself. It was liberating. Dazai could feel his heart beating faster and faster as they left the noise of the party and headed to a familiar room, tucked away. Dazai had dreamt of this room, of the low moonlight that cast itself across Chuuya’s face.
He remembered the first time he saw Chuuya’s face. They’d passed each other on the street, but Chuuya had no idea that the man who nearly got hit by a carriage had stopped short to stare at him. His focus had been on running some errand, completely unaware that the man who had swept him off his feet was right there, dumbfounded at his beauty.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come. That you’d given up.”
“How could I give up when I knew you’d be there waiting?”
They danced as the hours wore on, and Dazai almost wished the night never had to end. That they could spend eternity in each other’s arms, dancing and having not a care in the world. But he knew when Chuuya pulled away from him, the moment had come, the one he was both exhilarated and terrified to experience at once.
“I will never forget you, or these two magical nights we have shared. My heart, a part of it will always be yours. But there is someone that I wish to give all of it to.” Chuuya finished, having poured out his heart and soul to Dazai, not knowing how much joy it brought him.
“He is a lucky man,” Dazai said, wanting so much to end the charade immediately. “And of good standing to be worthy of a beauty and treasure as yourself.”
“Pages is very good to me, he sees me and all my flaws, and I see his. I only wished to see you one last time, so I could be sure that he is the one I love most.”
Dazai’s breath caught in his throat. The one I love the most. All the time he had played at being only a simple bookshop owner, he wondered if it was the right choice. Would Chuuya understand that he needed the chance to meet him as his equal, to remove the boundary between them so a future could truly be had? Even if Chuuya was angry at him for the ruse, he knew the love he felt for him was equally returned, if Chuuya was so willing to let go of the mystery and magic of their encounter, to be with him.
“I understand.” He cupped Chuuya’s chin, lifting his face so he could look into those shining blue eyes. “I should very much love to see your face, and to be given the privilege of kissing you, one last time.” Let no one ever accuse Osamu Dazai of not being a romantic.
“Only if you will permit me to see yours.”
If only you knew my darling.
Kissing Chuuya was everything he remembered and more. The soft press, shy despite the fire of the man delivering it. Slowly turning to something more heated and addictive. A kiss worth giving everything up for, a man worth more than any title could be, a partner and lover that matched him wholly and completely.
He waited with bated breath as Chuuya slowly opened his eyes. Recognition flashed and his mouth dropped open. “You.”
“I can explain,” Dazai said, smiling, noticing that Chuuya had not let go of his hand. His tongue twisted as he tried to find words, but he was too caught up in the way Chuuya stared at him as though he could see through him, and all his fears. “There was quite the scandal recently: you might have heard that Lord Tsushima abdicated and up jumped a low cousin to the title. Packed all his earthly possessions, a fair bit of ancestral art and jewelry, and disappeared into the night.”
“You’re Shuuji Tsushima?”
“Not anymore,” he insisted, taking Chuuya’s hands and pulling them to his chest. “I gave it up, all of it. I realized I would never be happy, that I would suffer for the rest of my life, knowing that you were out there somewhere, and that I couldn’t be with you.”
“You,” he seemed torn between rage and joy. “All that time and you knew.”
“I had to, Chuuya,” Dazai insisted, refusing to let him go. “My title stood in the way and would always be in the way. I wanted you to love me—Dazai—the name I picked for myself. I needed to meet you as a man equal to you, I needed to meet you as me, for you to fall in love with me.”
Chuuya bit his lip, looking away as he shut his eyes, clearly still speechless. When Dazai was afraid that he’d storm off, he turned back to him and his eyes held nothing but the same adoration they had for him, the day he’d asked permission to court him.
“I wanted it to be you. I hoped, I let myself dream of it only for a moment. Now that it’s come true, I don’t know what to say.”
Dazai cupped Chuuya’s cheek, his thumb caressing the still blush pink and heated skin. “There’s only one thing you could say that would make this the perfect night.”
Chuuya smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing Dazai had ever and would ever see. “You first,” he smirked, tilting his chin up, inviting Dazai to lean in close.
“I love you, Ruffles.”
“And I love you, Pages.”