Chapter Text
"Do Not Enter is written on the doorway, why can't everyone just go away?"
It was a cool night in August, the sky a lovely shade of blue. The moon was eye-catching, illuminating the concave streets. Dazai had always loved the moon. It remained consistent, it's brightness navigating lost souls through the darkness. It served a purpose.
Oh, how jealous of the moon Dazai was.
Poetic misery aside, Dazai had come here tonight with the intention of ending his life. It amused him, the idea of falling off of his father's hospital, his special way of leaving a mark. Specifically, a mark on the sidewalk below it. Dazai believed that his father had become a doctor in order to pay for his sins, becoming a healer as a way to make up for all the people he'd left broken. He had always found this idiotic. If you're a bad person, what's the point of trying to change? Who's it for? Isn't it just a selfish way to make yourself feel better? He had never cared enough to ask, as he chose not to speak to his father if not absolutely necessary. He just couldn't help but smile at the idea of his father finding his fourteen year old son splattered on the pavement. Pity he wouldn't be around to see it.
Deciding he'd gotten enough fresh air, he pushed himself to his feet. He approached the edge, noting how the wind was biting through his bandages. He felt no fear, just that same emptiness he'd grown familiar with over his fourteen years on earth. He closed his eyes, preparing for the eternal darkness that awaited him and wondered if there would be a moon.
And then he heard a voice.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Dazai opened his eyes, slowly turning his head. Standing there was a short boy who looked about his age, with short red curls and a narrow face. The boy was wearing a green hoodie and black sweatpants, and was currently staring at him like he was crazy. For good reason, but Dazai chose to ignore that.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he replied sarcastically, his voice laced with condescension.
He'd hoped that this would drive the redhead away, as he didn't have much time until the sun came up. He'd planned to die alone, and now some 4'11 leprechaun was ruining that for him. Unfortunately, his hopes were in vain.
"What's your name? I'm Chuuya." the boy said, unfazed by Dazai's hostility.
"I don't remember asking," Dazai replied, rolling his eyes. Upon noticing that Chuuya was still waiting expectantly for a response, he sighed. "It's Dazai. Happy?"
"Not really," Chuuya shrugged. "Dazai's kind of a shitty name."
Dazai wasn't sure what to expect, but he hadn't expected that. He snorted, slightly more interested in this conversation then he was a minute ago.
"You're one to talk. Chuuya's a great name for you, sounds a lot like chibi."
"Are you calling me short?" Chuuya asked, clearly offended. "I'm fourteen, I'm still growing.
"Whatever you need to tell yourself, chibi." Dazai replied, his tone dismissive.
"You sure talk a lot of shit for someone who's suicidal." Chuuya said, rolling his eyes.
"I'm not suicidal," Dazai sighed, sitting back down. "I'm ending my life on my own terms."
"That makes no sense," Chuuya snorted, sitting beside him. "Although, I suppose there's a difference between wanting to die and no longer wanting to live."
Dazai was taken aback by that, glancing at the redhead beside him out of the corner of his eye.
"Yeah," he said. "There is."
The two sat in silence, watching the moon. It's glow usually hurt Dazai's eyes, but it didn't tonight. He listened to Chuuya's soft breathing, his cold fingers gripping the edge.
"I'm going to go home," Chuuya said, pushing himself up. "Bye, Dazai."
Dazai hummed in response, not turning to watch him go. Shortly after Chuuya left, he extracted his phone from his pocket. It was 4:37 AM. He still had time.
Dazai pushed himself up, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat. He turned and started towards the roof's stairwell, heading for the exit.
Eh, maybe another day.
On the way home, he realized that he had never asked how the redhead had ended up on the roof of the hospital in the first place.
-
"Hello, I'm Chuuya Nakahara. Nice to meet you all." Chuuya said, projecting his voice as Kouyou had instructed him to do earlier.
"Hello, Chuuya!" the class chorused, at Ango-San's instruction.
Chuuya felt a warm hand grasp his shoulder, and looked up to see his new teacher smiling down at him. "Thank you, Chuuya. You are free to sit where you'd like, although there are limited options."
Chuuya resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yeah, no shit four-eyes. Chuuya had preemptively scanned the classroom and found there were only three available seats. The first one was in the left-hand corner, behind a girl with red hair. Girls made Chuuya nervous, so that wasn't an option. The second seat was in the middle, and just the idea of sitting there made him cringe. He was already the center of attention, he didn't want to be in the center of the fucking classroom. The third option was in the right-hand corner, a window seat. His eyes widened when he saw who it was in front of, and he couldn't help but grin at the irony of it all. He had assumed he would never see that kid from the hospital again, but here he was. Still decked out in bandages, with the same dead eyes. He could've sworn he saw surprise flicker across the guy's face, but it quickly reverted into a neutral expression.
Chuuya started for the seat, noting the small gasps and murmurs emerging from the class. Even Ango-San looked taken aback, which brought a smirk to Chuuya's face. He had taken Dazai for a loner, but it was hard not to laugh at how people's desks were noticeably moved to be farther away from him. He took his seat, grinning obnoxiously at the brunette before turning to face the front. It was only the first day, so four-eyes opted for going over the syllabus and classroom rules. Chuuya was trying his best not to fall asleep when he felt tapping on his shoulder. He turned, only to have a wad of paper poke him in the eye. He cussed under his breath, snatching the note from Dazai's hand.
He unfolded it, snorting upon reading what it said.
Guess you're stalking me now, chibi?
He scribbled out a response, flicking it back towards Dazai's desk.
You wish, asshole. Stop calling me chibi.
Your handwriting is awful. Would you prefer slug?
In what way do I look like a slug?
I don't have to explain myself to you.
If I'm a slug, you're a fucking mackerel.
Like the fish?
Yeah. A dead fish.
You wound me, slug.
Go to hell.
I'm already there.
Chuuya and Dazai spent the rest of the period bickering through notes, pausing to come to an agreement that Ango-San was the worst and resembled Dexter from Dexter's Laboratory.
When Chuuya got home that day, his sister had been waiting in the kitchen with two cups of piping-hot tea. She kissed his forehead and gestured for him to sit.
"So, did you enjoy your first day of school?" Kouyou asked, a hopeful glint in her eye.
"Yeah," Chuuya said, smiling to himself. "I met an asshole."