Chapter Text
Chuuya fiddled with the tape, groaning in frustration when he couldn't find the start of it. He had managed to get his hands on a roll of trans tape and a binder after a few weeks of trying to find some sort of way to flatten his chest. Deciding to try the tape first, he had hidden the binder in his dresser and was currently attempting to use it. He had no clue how to use the this stuff properly, but he figured that it would be fine.
"Aha!" He yelled in victory as he finally managed to grab the start of the tape.
"Nakahara, the boss wants to see us." He heard a knock on his door and Dazai's muffled voice through it.
"Coming, I'm coming," He shouted back, quickly taping back the flesh on his chest. It was slightly uncomfortable, but probably fine. He shoved the roll into his dresser before throwing on his shirt and jacket. His clothing was all a bit oversized, out of fear that someone would notice that he was in fact not a cis man. He swung open the door, stepping outside and looking around. Dazai was leaning against the wall, waiting for him.
Chuuya would kill to look like Dazai. The man was tall, his jawline sharp, and his hair short and fluffy. He was the definition of 'feminine in a masculine way.' It really wasn't fair. Every time he looked in the mirror, he could see every feminine feature in his face, and it made him want to cry. Speaking of which, he should stop thinking about this now, otherwise he was going to do just that. Dazai noticed him staring, and Chuuya quickly averted his eyes.
They walked to Mori's office in silence. It had only been a few months since the incident with Rimbaud, and since they had become partners. They had already gone on multiple missions, including one just yesterday. Dazai was a complete asshole, and they never really spoke unless they were arguing. The man seemed to avoid him like the plague most of the time. Guards opened the door to the office for them, Mori looking up at them from his desk. Chuuya had to stop his lip from curling in disgust when he spotted Elise, who was sitting on the couch drawing. Mori was a total creep with a thing for underage girls, and he felt bad for Elise; she seemed to really hate the man.
"Ah, Dazai, Nakahara. Thank you for coming. I just wanted to congratulate you both on a very successful month of being partners. Nakahara, you are a great attribute to the Port Mafia," Mori said, smiling at him. Chuuya had to stop himself from vomiting right there and then.
"Both of you are on your way to being executives, in due time. Besides all of that, I wanted to inform you that you'll both have a vacation of sorts for the next two weeks or so. Besides small tasks or paperwork, neither of you will have much to do. The Mafia is laying low while the executives investigate a new lead."
"Thanks boss," Chuuya said awkwardly, fighting the urge to fidget with his hands.
"Go ahead and enjoy your break, but try to stay in Yokohama in case I need to talk to either of you. You can both leave now."
They turned, exiting the room, and immediately Dazai shoved past him, looking back and grinning. Before he knew it, the elevator doors were shutting. That pretty asshole had purposely shut the doors on him. He groaned, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited. Although he could use his ability to smash the elevator into Dazai's stupid face, he decided that would be a bad idea. He was on Mori's good side for now, and he wanted a promotion.
Eventually, he returned to his room, scowling as he passed by the mirror. He avoided looking at the thing as much as possible, since it usually just ended in him getting annoyed. However, he did stop to look at himself now.
He hadn't had the chance to check earlier, but a grin spread on his face as he realized how well the tape was working. You could barely tell he was a girl! Well, if it wasn't for his hair, and feminine face, and hips, and- He frowned. Why did dysphoria always have to ruin the moment? He decided to take a quick shower, changing into a shirt and sweatpants afterwards. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. He opened it, surprised to see that it was Dazai. Chuuya furrowed his brows; why the hell was Dazai here again? He saw the man once a day at most, and that was usually just a glance in the hall. The one sentence the man had said to him today was enough for the entire week, maybe even too much.
Despite how attractive Dazai was, he was a pretentious asshole. At least, he was to Chuuya. To everyone else, Dazai seemed lighthearted and energetic; he was always cracking jokes and smiling. But whenever he was with Chuuya, he looked annoyed. Just as much as he seemed to hate Chuuya, Chuuya hated him.
"Uh, hi? Does Mori need something again? If you're trying to offload your paperwork on me again, I'm not doing it-"
"I'm not, I need to tell you something important. Let me in," Dazai sounded very exasperated and annoyed about Chuuya's existence. How ironic, because Dazai was the one that came to him, not the other way around. Chuuya was perfectly fine if they both ignored each other's existence.
He scowled, but moved over to let the man in. Dazai plopped down onto his bed, glancing around. He was wearing the most casual clothes Chuuya had seen him in; just your typical t-shirt and sweats. He was still sporting his signature bandages, though. He probably also just finished showering. Chuuya remained standing, closing the door and crossing his arms.
"So? What the hell do you want, Dazai?" Chuuya was starting to get irritated. He just wanted to relax for the night, without the pressure of this judgy asshole.
"Nakahara, I just wanted to say that it's not going to happen," Dazai sighed.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Your little crush on me? I hate to break it to you, but I don't have time for some fanboy."
Chuuya was flabbergasted. Dazai thought he had a crush on him? As if. Chuuya didn't exactly have a thing for shitheads. "What the hell are you talking about?" "Uh, it's obvious. I just wanted to tell you not to get your hopes up."
Chuuya burst out laughing, so hard that he felt tears form in his eyes. "So let me get this straight. You think I like you? Please, in your dreams. You're a complete bitch, I don't know how anyone could ever have a crush on you."
Dazai just blinked at him, looking extremely surprised and embarrassed. "Wait, so you don't have some highschool crush on me?"
"No, not at all. You are completely insufferable, actually," Chuuya responded pointedly, laughter finally subsiding.
Dazai crunched his nose, starting to look irritated again. "What the hell do you mean? I see you staring at me all the time, like some creep. And you don't need to be so rude, either-" "I'm the rude one?" Chuuya scoffed in disbelief. How full of himself was this guy? "You're the one that can't even stand to be in the same elevator as me, pushes me around and trips me every chance he gets, and ignores me unless he's forced to talk to me. What the fuck did I even do, you treat everyone else normally. What's your deal, huh?" He had gradually been stepping closer and closer towards the man as he slowly got more angry.
"What are you even talking about," Dazai said, rolling his eyes. Before Chuuya could stop himself, his fist was swinging towards Dazai's stupidly attractive face. The boy dodged, but in the process knocked over a cup of coffee on the nightstand that Chuuya had set down this morning. The leftover liquid inside it spilled onto Dazai's white shirt, as well as onto Chuuya's bedsheets. They both groaned simultaneously. Chuuya internally admitted that maybe this was kind of his fault, but he wouldn't have tried to hit the boy if he wasn't so goddamn condescending.
"Fuck," Dazai sighed. "Look, Nakahara, I'm sorry, ok? Can I just borrow a shirt? I don't have any clean ones left, and yours are all weirdly oversized so they should fit me."
For a second Chuuya contemplated telling this idiot to deal with it, and that there was no way in hell he was going to let him borrow anything of his, but then Dazai pulled off the coffee-stained shirt, and Chuuya almost started crying instead. How old did you have to be to get top surgery, again? Because maybe he would just DIY it instead.
"Fine, middle drawer," He grumbled, staring at the wall. Just then he remembered the binder and tape, and how he had thrown both into the same drawer that his shirts were in. He turned around as fast as possible, but Dazai was already staring at him quizzically, holding the binder in one hand and the tape in the other.
"Uh, just out of curiosity… Nakahara, what is this?" Dazai raised an eyebrow, and Chuuya had a sinking feeling that the man already knew the answer to that.
"Just normal tape and a bra?" He suggested.
"L-i-a-r, just admit it. You're trans, right?"
Chuuya wanted to shrivel up and die right there. Why did Dazai of all people have to be the one that found out? "Fine, fine. I'm trans. You caught me, good job." He grumbled, snatching the items out of Dazai's hands and throwing them onto his bed. "What are you going to do, call me a slur?"
"I'm not transphobic, you shrimp."
"Really? That's surprising," Chuuya scoffed, "You have 'I'm going to call you the t-slur' vibes."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Dazai protested. "I had a friend that was trans in middle school. That's how I recognized the binder. Speaking of which, aren't the ones with clasps super bad for your ribs?"
He shrugged, "Probably, it doesn't really matter, though." Dazai looked slightly displeased at that, but didn't say anything further.
"Are you going to tell Mori?" Chuuya questioned bitterly.
"Nah, it's none of my business. Sorry for uh, being kind of rude."
"Whatever. Also, now that you know, stop calling me Nakahara. It feels too feminine, even for a surname. Just call me Chuuya."
Dazai nodded, and then headed toward the door. He had one of Chuuya's shirts in his hand, and he quickly pulled it on before grabbing his stained one off of the bed. "I'm going to go to bed now. Goodnight, Chuu-ya." He flashed a grin before slamming the door behind him. Chuuya didn't even get a chance to respond.
He fell back on to his bed, sighing tiredly. He decided that he would deal with the coffee spill tomorrow, and only switched off the light before quickly drifting off to sleep. He woke up to bright sunlight shining into his face. He rolled over, smushing his face into the pillow. After a few minutes of hopelessly trying to fall back asleep, he gave up, and got out of bed. Stretching, he winced as the tape pulled at his skin. Since he had put it on in such a rush, it hadn't stayed on very well, and he decided he would just put on a binder instead.
He squeezed his eyes shut as he got dressed; he could already tell that today was going to be awful for dysphoria. Any way that he could avoid having to look at himself, he would take. The binder was more uncomfortable than the tape, that was for sure. Chuuya was starting to think that maybe Dazai had a point about saying it was unsafe. He ignored that, though, instead turning to pull his dirty bed sheets off of the bed.
He exited his room, heading towards the laundry room. As he walked, his vision was obscured by the pile of bed sheets in his arm, and he bumped into someone.
"Ah, sorry-"
"Oh, why good morning Chuuya!"
Damnit. He really did not want to deal with Dazai right now. He sighed, before responding, "Never mind. I'm not sorry. I wish I ran into you harder, actually."
"Wow, no need to be so mean." Dazai sounded awfully cheery, and it was starting to piss him off. Who was this energetic at nine am? "Anyway, where are you going?"
"Where do you think?" He rolled his eyes, even though Dazai couldn't see it. "The laundry room."
"Oh, the machine is broken right now. You'll have to go to a laundromat, I think there's one just a few blocks from here. I was already headed there anyway, so I'll just come with you." Chuuya groaned in frustration, but didn't have the energy to argue. They left the Port Mafia's living quarters, and it didn't take long for them to reach the laundromat building. Thank god it wasn't far away; Chuuya's back already hurt because of his bad posture, and this binder was not helping.
He threw the sheets into one of the machines, then sat down on the bench in the center of the room. Much to his dismay, Dazai decided to sit next to him. Chuuya pulled out his phone, scrolling mindlessly for a few minutes before the other man tapped him on the shoulder.
"Let's go get coffee while we wait. There's a cafe nearby."
"Fine, but you're paying," Chuuya grumbled, pocketing his phone and standing up. The cafe was a few blocks away, but they got there fairly quickly. There were a few people seated there, but luckily no line. They went up to the counter, the lady working asking how she could help them today.
Chuuya didn't hear what Dazai said, but he did hear when the lady turned her attention to him, saying, "And what can I get for you, ma'am?" Chuuya felt his gut twisting, but he didn't feel like correcting her.
"Just a coffee with milk and sugar, thanks."
Dazai glanced over at him, and then turned back to the lady to pay. Chuuya thought he heard the man start to say something about a double-suicide, and he rolled his eyes before practically dragging Dazai away from the counter.
"What was that for?" Dazai whined, "She could've been the perfect woman for a double-suicide, you know."
Chuuya smacked the man in the back of the head. "You'll make everyone think I'm a weirdo like you. Go find a woman some other time." Although he had already been tired, now Chuuya was in a particularly sour mood. He grabbed his coffee from the counter and then stormed out of the cafe, leaving Dazai to scramble after him.
He had put his sheets in the dryer before they left, and they were dry by now. Pulled them out of the machine before aggressively speed walking out and back to the Port Mafia's building. Only when he got to his room did he realize the Dazai was a few meters behind him, saying something that Chuuya didn't really care enough to listen to.
He threw the bedsheets on the floor before sitting down on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. There was a knock on his door, but he ignored it. Eventually he heard footsteps heading away from his door, and he sighed.
He absolutely hated being trans. Although he typically didn't get misgendered a lot, it only took one person calling him 'she' or 'ma'am' for him to completely break down. No matter how masculine he managed to make himself look, it never got rid of that horrible, overbearing dysphoria that plagued him in everything he did.
Eventually, Chuuya forced himself to his feet, messily making his bed. He decided a nap wouldn't hurt, although he mostly just ended up laying there, doing nothing. At some point he must have drifted off, though, because when he woke up he saw that it was already about three pm. His first thought was to take a shower, but just the thought of that made tears start to form in his eyes.
He got up and stood in front of the mirror, staring miserably at himself. The tears were streaming down his face by now, and he wiped them away with his sleeve.
"Chuuya?" Dazai was back once again.
Before he could tell the man to go away and leave him alone, the door opened. He must have forgotten to lock it. He quickly looked the opposite way; Dazai seeing him cry was definitely not something he wanted.
"What do you want?"
"Oh, I just wanted to give you back your shirt."
Chuuya turned back to glare at the man, quickly getting to his feet. He didn't even care now if Dazai saw his red face, he just wanted to be left alone. He marched over to Dazai, grabbed the shirt out of his hands, and then pointed to the door. "Great. Now get out."
"Are you ok?" Dazai asked, furrowing his brows.
Chuuya grabbed the man by the collar; Dazai didn't even flinch. "I'm fine, ok? Now leave before I punch your face in."
"Is this about that lady at the cafe that misgendered you?"
Tears pricked at the corners of Chuuya's eyes again. He made a noise of frustration, letting go of Dazai. He threw himself down on the bed and buried his face in a pillow, trying his best not to punch a hole in the wall right now. He started yelling, although his words were muffled, "It's not fair. Why do you get to be a guy? I'm so sick of having to look at your dumb, pretty face all the time. With your stupid sharp jawline, and your stupid long legs, and your stupid perfect hair."
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and rolled over to see Dazai looking at him. The man sat down next to him on the bed, seeming to get lost in thought for a minute. "You shouldn't let one person who doesn't even know you get to you. She wasn't doing it on purpose."
"That's the point. She didn't do it to purposely hurt my feelings, I just look like a girl. No matter what I do I'll never be a real boy. Everyone can tell just by looking at me."
"No one in the Mafia could tell."
"Fine, even if I pass. So what. I'll never get rid of this feeling. I can't even look in the mirror without hating everything about myself. You would never understand, you self-absorbed prick," Chuuya sniffled.
Dazai gently pulled him into a hug, and Chuuya just let him. No doubt later he would almost die of embarrassment, knowing that Dazai now knew all of his insecurities, but right now he just kind of needed a hug. "You are a real boy already. We all have our challenges, but they make us stronger in the long run. I know how tough you are, so just keep going no matter what."
They just stayed like that for a few minutes until Chuuya had calmed down. "You can let go of me now, dumbass," He grunted, and Dazai complied.
"So, you think I'm pretty?" The man grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Shut up," Chuuya groaned, shoving him. He was never going to live that down, and no doubt that Dazai would bully him for saying that forever. "I actually hate you so much, Dazai."
"Hate you too, Chuuya," Dazai sing-songed, ruffling his hair. Then, his partner seemed to suddenly come to a realization, much to his dismay. "Wait, so you DO have a crush on me!"
"Uhm, no," Chuuya snorted, "I just have gender envy for you. You're way too annoying for me to ever like."
"Sure, sure," Dazai said, not sounding convinced in the slightest. Chuuya was slowly getting more and more tempted to knock the man's teeth out.
"Ok, can you go away now? I need to shower."
Dazai got up, waving goodbye before he closed the door. He sat up, intending to go to the bathroom, but then decided against it when he recalled what happened just thirty minutes earlier. As he popped in his ear phones, sitting down at his desk to tackle some paperwork, he figured that even though Dazai was still a shithead, maybe the man wasn't as bad as he thought.