Work Text:
“Almost there…”
The phrase wasn’t being uttered to anyone other than himself as Chuuya continued to dig deep for the stamina to keep going. Only a few hours prior he had been stabbed by his best friend so naturally, the process of getting back to what was once his home base was taking quite a toll.
Sweat had started to form across his brow as a result of the extra effort needed to make the journey. Kouyou, the elegantly terrifying woman who had tended to him earlier was incredibly clear about her wishes for him to remain in bed for the night. His body needed the time to recover. She even made sure to tuck him into his bed extra firmly, which he thought was a little embarrassing but equally endearing.
It really was unfortunate that he wouldn’t be able to heed her request. There was something just too important to him, to waste even a single night resting.
A few times, the pull from his stitches gave him pause. He’d stop and lift his shirt to make certain he’d not somehow messed them up. That’d be a little more difficult to explain, but not impossible. However, it would make getting back a lot harder. And with no one to call? He’d truly be on his own.
At least, that was what he had assumed.
Even at the age of fifteen, the Demon Prodigy himself was far more preceptive than a vast majority of his peers. He had predicted this some time ago, much like with everything else. He knew Chuuya wouldn’t be able to resist going back like the stubbornly loyal puppy he was. Dazai couldn’t understand it. He’d tell himself he never wanted to. So then...why was he following?
If one were to catch him in the act and ask him? He’d, without missing a beat, give a reply detailing his intention to see if Chuuya was plotting to betray the Port Mafia so soon after his induction. Dazai knew that to be completely false. But that would be his cover story. The truth? Well, that was for him alone to know. Besides, he would never be caught. He was, after all, a Prodigy.
Finally, the familiar building appeared to him. Chuuya felt a pang of longing and a swell of hurt rise up inside of him. He’d spent years here, and now? Now, he was as good as dead to everyone that resided between those walls.
Leaning in to take a look into one of the windows, a flicker of movement would catch his eye forcing him to pull away. The act was way more clumsy than usual but still effective.
“Really? Twice in one day? Would you calm down!”
Chuuya’s hands remained in his pockets. He felt zero inclination to fight. Shirase on the other hand? His blade, a new one Chuuya would note, was drawn.
“Why are you here? Five words or less.”
There was a sharp edge to his voice. Not at all the laid back and almost charming tone Chuuya had grown used to hearing over the years. And yet, despite Shirase’s body language indicating he was looking at an enemy, his eyes were where Chuuya found the most devastating sight of all. Shirase looked scared.
Slowly Chuuya would slide his hands out of his pockets, causing Shirase to flinch a little. The pain in Chuuya’s chest would stir at that. Those same hands would raise above his head as he looked to the ground. It was too difficult to keep eye contact up.
“My lunch box.”
As soon as the words left Chuuya’s mouth, he’d lock his jaw in place, trying so hard just to keep his collected facade up. What if they had already thrown it out? Burned it? That box held (what might appear to anyone else as trash) little pieces of him and the life he had built here. That box was the closest thing to a sense of self, that he had. And he just - If he couldn’t have his friends, he at least wanted the memories and the little trinkets tied to them.
There was a long beat of silence. So long that Chuuya did eventually have to look up. By then Shirase had lowered his blade, but Chuuya would note that it was still very much so, clutched tightly in his hand.
“Right. I know where it is. Yuan...She put it up. But I can get it. Just...go wait down the block. I don’t want anyone else seeing you.”
Chuuya would note the slightly less aggressive tone, but the words still hurt. Regardless, he knew better than to argue. Bringing his arms down, and sliding them back in his pockets, he’d offer a nod of understanding before turning to walk in the direction he had just come from. Chuuya would just have to trust that Shirase was actually going to come through.
From the shadows, Dazai observed with indifference. The words were lost on him, as the two had been whispering. But that wasn’t important. Body language always told a much more amusing story. Still, he’d have to follow Chuuya to see what was going on. Was there more? Was he going home now? Had he really come all this way to be shooed away at the door?
Something about that Shirase kid boiled Dazai’s blood. Sure, they were the same age. But Dazai refused to settle himself into any category with that prick. It was almost pathetic how enamored with him, Chuuya was. Without realizing it, Dazai would begin to scowl, as he watched the chibi find a wall to rest against, Exactly one block from the hideout.
Anxiety gnawed at Chuuya, thankfully not for long. As promised, Shirase would arrive on the scene not ten minutes later with the box in hand. This time, Chuuya was relieved to see that Shirase was in fact no longer carrying his knife.
“You really came all the way back here, just to get this?”
Shirase was still holding it, not yet offering it over to Chuuya. Instead, he’d turn it in his grip, looking it over.
“Ya know, I’ve known about this box for a long time but you never told any of us what was in it. What gives? Are you keeping organization secrets in here? Am I handing you valuable information right now?”
There was a ghost of a smile on Shirase’s lips. One that seemed so unfair. How could he possibly be smiling right now? Yet, despite his unrelenting hurt, Chuuya found himself half-smiling back.
“Nothing that cool. Just...cards, some bottle caps. That birthday card you made me last year. Stuff like that.”
That last part took the wind out of Shirase’s sail. Now, he was finally meeting Chuuya at the rock bottom of this fallout. With no anger or confusion to hide behind, there was only crippling realization.
This was goodbye.
“Yeah well...that doesn’t seem like it was worth the trouble to come back for.”
Finally, Shirase would extend the box out to Chuuya. Blue eyes would observe the motion, before settling on Shirase’s face. Searching for the right words. The right actions. What was he supposed to do? This was going to likely be the last time they ever saw one another and of course he had showed up with no game plan. Chuuya felt like he was losing everything, and all he could do was reach out for the box, wordlessly.
However, as soon as he had a firm grip on it, Shirase would pull the box back towards himself, causing Chuuya to jerk forward a bit. Just enough for Shirase to reach up and pull Chuuya in, the rest of the way.
It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t something off of the silver screen. But it was absolutely a kiss. One that overwhelmed Chuuya’s senses. It wasn’t even that Shirase was particularly skilled, it was just, this was their very first kiss. Not that they hadn’t tried in the past. It just always seemed that someone or something would interrupt them each and every time. It had become a bit of an inside joke.
This time had almost been no different. Were Dazai not incredibly skilled at appearing indifferent, he would have made his way over and put an end to it on the spot. However, what reason did Dazai have to care that Chuuya was sharing a kiss with Shirase? None. He didn’t care. End of story. He cared so little, that he’d instead look off and observe the night sky instead. Far more entertaining.
Back on the sidewalk, the two young men were still navigating this new territory. Shirase would pull Chuuya a little closer, tugging him by his jacket pocket, the box now pressed between them.
It was a simple gesture, one that was over too soon. Pulling away, both boys had a flush of color spanning across their cheeks. The silence was charged with words left unspoken. Chuuya absolutely saw Shirase open his mouth to say something but he clearly changed his mind. So, fine.
“Really, jackass? We finally get our first kiss, and you waited until it would also be our last?”
Chuuya wanted to laugh, In fact, there was an undertone of humor to his words. Really, it was all just to cover the overwhelming urge to cry.
“Well, it’s like you just said… I’m a jackass.”
“Yeah well….you were my jackass.”
Finally, Shirase would release the box. The past tense verbiage ripping through him and taking all of his gusto with it.
“You should go.”
It wasn’t so much a command as it was a warning. But one out of concern more than fear or hatred. So, he’d nod and with both hands on his precious box, Chuuya would turn away and not once look back.
Shirase would remain glued to his spot until Chuuya was out of sight.
Dazai would follow soon after, making sure Shirase was back inside before moving.
It was a long walk back. The uncertainties that had driven him forward and shut out the limitations of his tired state were no longer with him. Now he was left with the memory of a clumsy (precious) first-last kiss and utter heartbreak over his loss. It was a cocktail of emotion that physically weighed on him.
As soon as he reached his room, he slid the box under his bed, content to just go through it in the morning.
Sliding his coat off he’d haphazardly throw it near his wall hangar, far too tired to care. It was then that a small piece of paper would catch his eye. Presumably having fallen out of his pocket. Now, Chuuya knew he hadn’t put anything of the sort in his jacket before leaving so even as tired as he was, there was no going to bed before examining the crumpled up piece of paper on his floor.
Using his foot, he’d pull it towards himself, while sitting on the edge of his bed. Once it was within reach, he’d scoop it up and carefully open it, not wanting to further disrupt the message inside.
It was a short note. The paper wasn’t that big after all. Still, the words were all he needed to finally let out every tear he’d been holding back. Not in a dramatic sob, but in a steady and silent matter. The tears started to fall and they just wouldn’t stop. Not that a single soul would hear him that night. He would just look at the note, blurry-eyed until he was calm enough to move again.
A note this special would need a special place to reside. And what better place than tucked neatly inside the sweatband of his hat. The one that Rimbaud had left for him. He would protect that hat, and now, the note with his life.
The note that had only three little words scrawled on it, in Shirase’s handwriting.
“I love you.”