Chapter Text
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- look over here;
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“It really is so pitiful that you’re so small,” Dazai says with a rueful shake of his head. “Do you want me to carry you instead?”
Temples throbbing with annoyance at the bastard that he’s forced to work with, Chuuya shoots back a nasty glare and a, “Want me to break your legs?”
“Mm, even so, I’ll still be taller than you.”
“Then how about I bury you underground?” Even as they bicker, Chuuya continues to look around, leaving the spots that are at a higher ground to his bandaged mackerel of a partner.
A treasure hunt is supposed to be a fun, bonding activity, but there’s nothing fun about being paired with this asshole. He has protested, several times, but the class representative has personally begged him to be Dazai’s partner. After all, the entire class’s participation is required, and Dazai has the audacity to skip such activities if someone isn’t around to drag him around.
“No matter what you do, I’ll always be taller than you~~~”
“I just have a late growth spurt. Once I become taller—”
“Ah. Children really do need their sleep. You’re already saying delusional things, are you okay, tiny fairy?”
“Who are you calling—”
“Ah, Chuuya. I think I found the best treasure.” It’s said so solemnly, and Dazai stops in his tracks, causing Chuuya to nearly barrel into his back.
He glances around, hates the fact that the beanpole is so fucking tall, then moves so that they’re side by side. “Where the fuck is it?”
“Look over here,” the mackerel says softly, then points somewhere up.
He’s probably cursed, because he ends up following the line of that bandaged finger. It’s pointing to absolutely nowhere, and when he’s about to chew the bastard up for pranking him once again, Dazai is leaning down and brushing chapped lips over his.
He freezes. Under the shade of the trees in their school’s clearing, his first kiss has been stolen so brazenly by the shittiest mackerel in the world.
“…Ah. It’s just a chibi’s mouth,” Dazai tells him simply, before shrugging and continuing to walk around for their treasure hunt.
Without care for the fact that Chuuya’s gone catatonic on the spot, a heart attack plaguing him at a tender age of sixteen.
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- news, letter;
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Each time someone posts something in the class group chat, Chuuya immediately checks it. Especially if it’s something that has “hot topic!” or “gossip!” in it. Each time, he lets out a sigh of relief that it’s not about that abominable, horrifying experience two weeks, four days, three hours and fifty-one minutes ago.
He hasn’t managed to get a good night’s sleep ever since that day too. Each time he closes his eyes, his mind offers a super-high-definition playback, complete with surround sound and hyper-realistic features.
He could vividly recall the feeling of chapped lips brushing against his mouth, the warmth of sunshine filtering down the trees’ crowns, the smell of light sweat from the summer’s approach, mixed with the scent of laundry detergent. The press of a lanky chest against his, one hand briefly squeezing his elbow as if to anchor him into place, the moist breath that hits his face just before they pull away.
The sight of Dazai’s back as he walks away nonchalantly, as if stealing his first kiss is something so irrelevant that he could brush it off without care.
He balls his hands into fists. It’s probably just a prank. Dazai is such a bastard who has definitely roots in an alien planet, given how irritating and weird his brain circuits are. Kissing is probably just something done so naturally in his alien planet. Maybe it’s even the same as breathing or pissing or something.
He shouldn’t take it to heart.
He shouldn’t be so affected by such a thing.
He shouldn’t be remembering it so carefully, and he should stop daydreaming—uh, he’s just taking notes as to how it happened so he can do a proper revenge!—about it.
What if someone saw them? Worse, what if Dazai bragged about it to everyone? After all, even if he’s such an irresponsible sod, he still somehow managed to get a place in the Student Council. He has direct access to the school’s PA system, he can make a public announcement about stealing Chuuya’s first kiss.
Chuuya’s phone vibrates with another notification, and he hurriedly checks it, in case it’s news about the two of them being spotted kissing.
Oh, it’s just about someone being spotted confessing with a love letter.
…Oi, wait a minute.
He squints at the picture.
…Some girl is handing a love letter to Dazai?
He squeezes his phone hard enough that there are scary noises coming from it. That bastard—! How dare he do something like this—!! He hasn’t even taken responsibility for kissing him and then ignoring him for almost three weeks—!!!
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- jolt;
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“You look angrier than usual,” Dazai points out this totally unnecessary observation. “Don’t you know that chibis who are constantly glaring will spend all energy with hate, and not enough goes to their bones?”
“You keep talking shit to me and you wonder why I’m angry?” Not that they’ve been talking a lot recently. Not that Chuuya wants to keep talking with this bastard.
It should have been a welcome respite. They’ve known each other since the final year of elementary school, when his parents have moved into Yokohama after spending a lot of time shuttling from one country to another. It’s his first time not being homeschooled, and he’s been pranked so many times by this bastard who’s taken advantage of him not knowing certain school traditions.
He’s had to deal with such an irritation for so long, so he should have been celebrating when the other man has stopped teasing him during class, or nagging him to share his bento’s contents during lunch.
Dazai stares at him, an amused smirk on his face. “Now that you mention it, there’s something I haven’t done in a few weeks, huh?”
That statement jolts Chuuya, and he nearly flies off his desk. He looks around, palms sweating at how the classroom is empty save for the two of them.
Most of their classmates take to the school grounds or the cafeteria during lunch. Not a lot of them stay inside the classroom. In fact, Chuuya himself is fond of eating at the rooftop or at one of the benches surrounded by trees.
…It’s just that, lately, when he goes to those places, he’d just hear a lot of gossip about how there are several girls from all levels who keep on finding Dazai during lunch, giving him bentos and love letters and confessions.
……It’s just that, lately, he still hasn’t adjusted to the fact that Dazai has stopped stealing his food, so there’s no need to prepare an extra bento as a backup. It’s better to eat the two servings inside the classroom where nobody else could judge him for being a glutton.
“Oh. You’re that excited about it, huh?” Dazai’s smirk curves up higher. “Just stay right there…”
As he’s suspected, Dazai is definitely an alien. He’s probably casted an alien curse on him, because instead of punching the fish in the face, he freezes in place, eyes wide.
Dazai leans closer, and he’s reminded once again of that kiss, four weeks, four days—
Chuuya stiffens, lips trembling as he smells the familiar scent that he’s always associated with a certain fish.
And then, Dazai plucks the second bento from the bag that hangs on the side of his desk. “I’ve received a lot of lovey-dovey bentos from all of my fans recently, but none of them can cook as good as you.” A line coming from someone who’s proud to be a mooch. “You won’t grow tall even if you eat two servings, so I’ll be taking this~~”
For a moment, he’s not sure whether he’s going to evaporate from rage or sag in relief at not having his second kiss stolen too.
It’s fine, right? That’s probably just a fluke, so it won’t happen again. Not that he wants it to happen again, of course. He’s a responsible student who focuses on his studies, and even if he wishes to have a blooming lovelife in high school, it certainly wouldn’t be with an irresponsible mackerel who’s supposedly a genius but has nothing but unfunny height jokes in his arsenal.
In fact, he’s already readying his fists as he recovers, “You bastard, how dare you steal that—”
How is it that Dazai Osamu, beanpole who’d tragically crumple on the spot if he gets punched, can move so swiftly?
Dazai invades his personal space once again, with lightning-quick motions. A kiss is pressed against his mouth, then a hint of tongue as it traces the contours of his lips, before drawing away just as quickly.
“Thanks for the meal,” is said with such cheerful, self-satisfied tone, that he could only gape at the audacity of it all.
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to be continued;
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