Chapter Text
"Chuuya, stop moping and come help me with the bags," his mom says, groaning as she lifts one of the heavier suitcases.
He huffs in response, stepping out of the car and into the rays of sun.
As soon as he puts one foot on the ground, the heat hits him in one large wave. It engulfs his body entirely, washing over him from head to toe. He feels his shoulders drop immediately, weighed down by the heat as he trudges over to the trunk, picking up a bag and letting it drop to the ground carelessly.
"Watch your attitude," Chuuya's father leans down, picking the suitcase up by its handle and standing it up gently. "I don't care how much you don't want to be here, we're not taking you back. You could wake me up at the crack ass of dawn everyday and it still wouldn't make me take you back. We took you here to have a good time, and we expect you to have a good time."
"This sucks," he snaps in response, grabbing the suitcase and stomping over to the front door.
Sure, maybe he's being kind of a brat, but he doesn't want to be here. He'd rather be at home with Shirase and Yuan, playing video games in his own room. As a matter of fact, he'd probably even take summer school over this hellhole. Anything, really. He just knows that he doesn't want to be here in the sweltering heat, waking up next to loud seagulls and even louder beach parties.
As he enters the beach house that they've rented for the summer, he enters a slight state of awe--it's nice. Really nice, enough to make him feel bad about acting the way he is. The walls are painted a nice pale blue, the furniture is neat and tidy, and it's a lot cleaner than he thought it would be. A bright pink stack of sticky notes sits on the kitchen island, and he walks over to it, brushing bits of stray sand off of the counter.
To the Nakahara family,
We're so glad you rented out our beach house for the summer! We hope you enjoy it here on Seagull Beach! It's truly a wonderful place to enjoy your summer.
We'll be back by August 4th. Have fun!
The note is scrawled in neat, cursive handwriting. He scoffs, tossing the stack back onto the counter before sinking into the white couch in the living room, hugging a pillow between his knees and his chest.
He really doesn't want to be here. Really, he doesn't. Not one bit. It's hot, it's sunny, it's miserable, it's wet, and he doesn't know anybody here. He misses his friends and the comfort of his own room.
His parents step through the front door, hauling the rest of the luggage inside.
"Chuuya," his mom says, digging around in the heavy duffel bag from earlier and pulling out a massive bottle of sunscreen, "Put this on and go outside."
She tosses the bottle directly at his head. It makes contact with the bridge of his nose, and he yelps in pain. Showing no remorse, she starts hauling the luggage to the rooms and leaves him dumbfounded on the couch.
"I'm not going! I'm staying in here, where there's air conditioning and no sand."
She sends him a piercing glare over her shoulder, one that tells him to pick his ass up, and that's enough to get him going. He squeezes out a thick glob of creamy white sunscreen onto his fingers, making a face at the consistency and the chill on his skin. Sunscreen has never looked so foreign to him, and he peers at the white mass carefully before giving in and rubbing it into his face.
With a final huff, he stomps his way over to the glass sliding door that leads to the back deck, throwing it open with much more force than necessary.
He's greeted with the sound of screaming children, loud chattering, and a bunch of other sounds he doesn't want to hear right now. The feeling of the sand under his nose is incredibly foreign and gross--wrinkling his nose, he ultimately decides to sit on a patch of sand, not too close to the water or to the beach house.
It's miserable. He's in shorts and a tank top, but it's so hot it feels like he's wearing twenty layers and even shedding those twenty layers wouldn't help. Groaning, he props his hands on the ground and leans back, preparing to just deal with it and-
Thump.
A volleyball hits him square in the face. Luckily, it's one of those soft volleyballs, the ones that don't hurt too much, but still. It's a ball to the face, and he just got a bottle of sunscreen tossed at him, too. Clutching his nose and standing up to pick up the ball, he looks around wildly for the source.
A white-haired boy who seems a year or two younger than him runs up to him with a frantic look on his face.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't hit it, Dazai did, but I'm so sorry anyways!" he bows and holds his hands out, waiting for the ball. Chuuya plops it into his hands and he hugs it to his side. "I'm really sorry. I mean it."
"Are you new? I haven't seen you here before," a girl about his age walks up behind the boy, crossing her arms. She's stunning, Chuuya notes, dark hair and dark eyes. Model material, but that's besides the point. Where the hell did she come from?
"I- Well, yeah. I got here like, ten minutes ago. Do you know everyone on this damn beach?" Chuuya says, mimicking her and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Actually, I do. This here," she claps an arm on the boy's shoulder, and he jolts, "is Atsushi, our little ray of sunshine. My name is Yosano. Now, why don't you do the polite thing and tell us your name? I've got to know everyone here, after all."
"Chuuya," he mutters.
"You should come play volleyball with us!" Atsushi beams at him.
Chuuya stares at him. Atsushi seems to shrink a little, his smile turning sheepish. "No thanks. I don't want to be here."
"Oh, you're one of those people, aren't you? Dragged by your parents for a beach retreat because you stay cooped up in your room too much? We're taking you under our wing. Come here," Before he can protest, Yosano grabs him by the hand and drags him towards the volleyball courts. "C'mon, Atsushi, let's go."
Chuuya tries his best to stop himself from being dragged away. He does everything he possibly can--digging his heels into the sand, ripping his hand away as hard as he can, pulling in the other direction--but none of it works. She's got a killer grip and she won't let him go. It's actually humiliating. In the end, he ends up just letting himself be pulled away.
As they approach the courts, he can see a rather large group of people on both sides of the court, waiting expectantly for their ball to return.
Two girls are sitting down on the scalding sand, one with her legs crossed and the other with her legs splayed out in front of her. The one with her legs crossed is blonde, with sunglasses perched atop her head and a hot pink bikini. The other is a girl with black hair tied up in a bun. Both are giggling to each other, seemingly caught up in their own world, but they're the first to notice Atsushi and Yosano's return. They notice Chuuya soon after.
"Everyone," Yosano announces, "Chuuya. Chuuya, that's Gin, Higuchi, Ranpo, Akutagawa, Tachihara, Kunikida, and Dazai. And a couple others that aren't here right now. Big group. You'll see. He's new, and he's gonna play with us. Everyone, be nice."
The one named Akutagawa just shrugs. Higuchi, Gin, and Tachihara smile at him, Kunikida just kind of huffs in acknowledgement, and Dazai doesn't react. Ranpo just continues sucking on the lollipop in his mouth.
"Hi," Chuuya shuffles awkwardly. "I'm Chuuya. Um. I play volleyball for my school?:
"Hi!" says Higuchi, already way too chipper. "Come join us! I'm sure you're loads better than all of us."
He trudges over to that side of the court, feeling everyone's gazes boring into him curiously. Taking his spot near the front, he gets into position and waits for someone to serve the ball.
He quickly learns that beach volleyball is very different from indoor volleyball. The sand under his feet is both flexible and uncompromising at the same time--not firm enough when he leaps up for a spike, and the friction too much for when he leaps for a dig.
After a few rallies, though, he manages to get somewhat of a feel for the sand. It's still very inconsistent, but his jumps go a little higher and he learns to account for the wind, managing to land a particularly nasty spike on one point.
"Wow, Chuuya," Higuchi pants, hunched over with her hands braced on top of her knees. "You're... really good. And I... need a break." She waddles over to the side of the court, and sits down on the sand. It puffs up around her before settling down once again after a couple of seconds.
They continue playing. Their team wins.
"Wooooo!" Higuchi, from the sidelines, cheers loudly. She's probably the most energetic one in the group right now. "Losers have to treat us to ice cream. Because I said so."
To his surprise, nobody protests. Chuuya follows them, trailing behind the group like a lost puppy as they head towards the houses.
"Chuuya, do you have a bike? We're gonna bike to where the shops are. It's close, still on the beach, though." Ranpo asks, pulling the lollipop stick out of his mouth and tossing it somewhere behind him.
"Well, I think the owners of the beach house that my parents are renting have a bike and they're letting us use it. I appreacite the invitation, but it's okay. I don't want to go."
"No, you want to go."
"What?"
"It's the blue one, right? Where Mr. and Mrs. Suzuki live? We'll meet you in front when you're done."
With that, everyone starts jogging back to their houses. He shouts at them to wait, cupping his hands around his mouth to project his voice, but it doesn't work. Not a single one of them slows down (aside from Akutagawa, who continues walking towards his house at a leisurely pace).
When he gets back to his house, he opens the sliding doors and steps inside. At least the air conditioning is good, he notes, the cold air hitting him in one large blast.
Chuuya cringes when the grains of sand stuck to his feet press into his skin when he steps onto the wooden flooring. He's not a terrible person and at least has some respect for a house that isn't his, so he steps back outside to shake off all the sand before heading towards the garage.
The bike that he finds there is the same shade of blue as the walls of the house, and has a basket attached to the front. He wonders if Yuan would try and fit herself into the basket, with Shirase goading her on.
He misses them already.
Standing next to the bike, Chuuya wonders if they'll even show up to come and get him at all. What if they've ditched him and just left without him? He'd look like a loser just standing here.
Just as he's about to give up and put the bike back where he found it, he sees two figures approaching him from a distance, one on a bike and the other a skateboard. He has to stifle a little chuckle--the sight is a little funny, for no reason in particular. His humor is a little messed up.
It's the guy with the glasses and the dark, lanky one. Kunikida? Dazai?
"Let's go," Kunikida says seriously, pushing his glasses up his nose. (Again, he suppresses another laugh. Shirase and Yuan would have laughed, too). "The others are waiting down the road."
The two of them are already rolling away as Chuuya clambers onto his bike, and he has to pedal a little quickly to catch up with them. He feels a little pathetic.
It's only about a minute until they run into the others. Ranpo's on a scooter, the girls are each sporting roller skates, Atsushi's on a bike, and the rest of them are on skateboards. They make conversation with each another, laughing and swatting playfully. Chuuya's sure that they're nice enough to try and talk to him, but he trails behind the group, making sure to lag behind enough to where none of them can try and spark a conversation.
They're scarily nice. He's still wary.
By now, the sun is starting to set and the sky is splattered with an array of colors, like paint on a canvas. It's really quite mesmerizing, and Chuuya is left awestruck. The sky is never this visible in the city, tall skylines and clouds always blocking the view.
It's also never this pretty. Something to do with science and light and stuff, he's not sure, but he just knows that the sunsets back home aren't as beautiful as this. He's also always too busy to take the time and marvel at nature's wonders like this--actually, even if he did have the time, Yuan and Shirase would never agree to come with him to stare up at the sky for an hour or two.
Whatever. He brushes it off.
Eventually, they arrive at the ice cream shop. It's clearly famous, because it's packed.
The shop has a homey feel to it. A bright neon sign flashes at them as they walk in. I'm open! Come inside!, it practically shouts at them, the reds and blues of the words flickering at periodic intervals. Another sign saying 'closed', similar in design but unplugged, sits just below it on the window.
The style of the shop itself is reminiscent of old diners, all white brick walls and metal tables. Chuuya follows Yosano as she pushes through the throng of people, parting the crowd easily. People walk around the cramped shop like worker bees enter and exit their hive. Everywhere he looks, people sit together in large groups, smiles brighter than the sun itself. It's clear, just from this alone, that this beach community is incredibly tight-knit.
This ice cream place is very much different from the Coldstone that Chuuya's used to, but he's not necessarily mad about it. Especially because their flavor selection is huge. Not only that, but the ice cream looks authentic. True to the old diner style, they even have the taps to fill up ice cream floats--one of the employees is filling a cup full to the brim just as he steps up.
"One float, please," he says.
The employee, donning a striped apron with the logo plastered across the front, beams at him and scoops some ice cream to toss into the cup. "Hi! You're new here, aren't you?"
Is there a bright red arrow pointing directly at him, or something? How does everyone manage to know? "Yeah," he forces a smile and grabs the filled glass, "thanks."
When he brings his cup up to the register to pay, Kunikida is already waiting there. There's a few bills laying on the counter, dangerously close to a few droplets of melted ice cream.
"Thank you," Chuuya murmurs, feeling a little uncomfortable with letting someone else pay for him.
"It's nothing. We lost, so we pay," Kunikida says in response. He seems so... uptight, and he says it in such a matter-of-the-fact way that Chuuya shrinks a little, intimidated by his presence.
They struggle to even find a table at first. It's a little like parking at the mall back home, he thinks. Yosano and Gin dart in and out of the crowd, scouting for an open table like vultures. Eventually, though, they manage to find a table. The others flock from group to group and grab any stray chairs they manage to find. As they move around the shop, Chuuya is awed by the way each of them walks up to groups of other teenagers nonchalantly. They greet them like it's been ages since they last met, the metal legs of the chairs scraping against the tiled flooring as they drag the chairs away.
He's always at least a little intimidated when he goes up to groups of people his age that he doesn't know well. How are they not? Is this what it's like, to know everyone within a two mile radius of your own house?
When they're all finally settled in, they break into conversation immediately. He feels like some sort of omnipotent being looking in as he sits back and observes them fall into a particular rhythm, one that he can tell they're familiar with. Conversation just... flows between them, as natural as a river coursing downstream.
It's always been sort of interesting to see how people interact within a larger friend group. In the Sheep, they're all great friends, but Chuuya's always been much closer with Yuan and Shirase than the rest of them. He'd take a bullet for them.
In any large friend group, there's bound to be a few duos or trios within the larger circle. It's inevitable. He sees it here, too. Higuchi, Gin, and Tachihara sit nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, fully comfortable with dipping their spoons into each others' cups for a taste. Gin leans over to check in on Akutagawa once in a while (Are they siblings? They look nearly identical), while the latter appears to droop with the weight of Atsushi's arm hooked around him. Yosano and Ranpo take turns bothering Kunikida. He's sure they have even more friends who aren't here right now, considering how friendly they are, but it's interesting to sit back and observe the dynamics of their group.
And then, there's Dazai, who sits across from him. Who travels the circumference of the circle, effortlessly comfortable with everyone. Who makes jokes that everyone manages to laugh at, teases just enough to be both annoying and funny.
Yet, Chuuya gets a certain feeling from him--one that, for some reason, hints that he is simultaneously close with everyone and separated from them at the same time. Dazai's also magnetizing, in a way. Maybe it's the tall, dark, mysterious thing that he seems to have going on. It has Chuuya wanting to learn more about him, weirdly enough.
(It's also probably because Dazai is exactly his type.)
He's jerked out of his stupor when Dazai himself leans across the table, stretching to tap the base of his cup with a delicate finger. "Soooo, Chuu-yaa," he drawls, "twenty questions? We should get to know you."
Blinking, Chuuya says, "Shoot."
The questions are everything that anyone could possibly think of, coming from everywhere, all at once. He feels a little like he's done something wrong, and that the FBI is interrogating him, waiting for him to slip up.
"Grade?"
"Going into senior year." ("Us too!" say Ranpo and Yosano, in perfect unison.)
"Any other sports besides volleyball?" asks Tachihara.
"Nope."
"Can you drive? Legally?"
"Licensed," he replies, "under a year, though, so I can't legally drive friends yet. Nobody listens to that rule, though."
"Favorite artist?"
"Arctic Monkeys."
"Real ginger?"
Sigh. "Yes."
"Number of suspensions accumulated throughout highschool?" Dazai chirps.
"Four," he replies. He claps a hand over his mouth. Oops.
Dazai cackles, like an ass. "Gotcha," he says, "mister delinquent!"
Chuuya decides that he no longer likes him.
"No, wait, let me explain," Chuuya holds his hands up, glaring at the teen across the table from him. "It's not like I was actively going around and beating people up, I just had to defend my friends and myself when people were being dicks."
"Fair," quips Atsushi, and the barrage of questions continues.
"Opinion on pineapple on pizza?"
"Delicious." (There's a few groans, Higuchi gags dramatically, and Ranpo claps excitedly.)
"Favorite soda?"
"Coke."
"Height?" Dazai asks, and snickers, because of course he does. Chuuya despises him more by the minute.
"I'm not answering that."
The questions turn into general conversation--Chuuya tells them about the Sheep back at home, about school, about last volleyball season. He appreciates the opportunity to recount everything important about his life, at least. They're good listeners, clearly paying attention to his stories, and they interject with the occassional question here and there.
"Year-rounder?" Chuuya echoes, hearing the term pop up somewhere.
Ranpo sticks another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. He's on his second sundae. "Yeah. Some of us stay here the entire year. We go to school at Seaview High. Me, Yosano, Kunikida, Dazai, Tachihara, and Higuchi are year-rounders. Atsushi, Gin, Akutagawa, and a few of the others you haven't met yet are summies. Summer onlies."
"Will you be coming back for the other summers, Chuuya?" asks Gin.
He scoffs. "Hopefully not."
"Stop with that. I'm offended," Yosano says. "By the time summer is over, you'll never want to leave. I'll make sure of it."
He disagrees in his head, but he doesn't say anything out loud.
"I have to be back soon," he says instead.
He doesn't, actually. His parents would probably encourage him to go and explore the beach into the hours of the early morning, but a little white lie never hurts anybody. His fingers itch to grab his phone and facetime Shirase and Yuan.
"I do, too," says Atsushi, standing up. "Wait, though, you should get all of our numbers! Cheers to a new friendship!"
Before Chuuya can even think of an excuse to get out of it, he's ushered out the door with a few more contacts in his phone than before.
Before he knows it, he ends up standing at the front door of their rented beach house, waving goodbye to Dazai.
"'Night, Chuuya," he says.
"Goodnight," he replies back, wheeling the bike towards the garage.
"Actually," quips Dazai, "would you be interested in sightseeing?"
... What?
"It's a beach," he crinkles his eyebrows, "what other sights are there to see, other than sand and water?"
"You'll see! Six in the morning tomorrow."
The bike almost clatters to the ground, and he has to scramble to catch it as he yells, "What? Why would I get up at six to go off somewhere with a stranger I met, like, a few hours ago? Are you insane?"
Dazai smirks at him, not offering a response to either of his questions. Chuuya hates him more by the minute. "See you tomorrow! I'll throw rocks at your window if you're not up in time. Meet me out here in the front."
With that, Dazai rides off on his skateboard, giving him no chance to protest.
With his head in his hands, he puts his bike away and walks into the beach house.
His mom and dad are engaged in conversation by the kitchen island. He's hoping to rush past them and avoid their questions, but his mother is like a predator, sensing his presence as soon as he steps even remotely near them. As she turns, he feels like a small, petrified little bunny, her curious eyes fixing themself on him as he shrinks.
"Chuuya," she exclaims, "where have you been? Did you make some friends? See, I told you that you would end up liking this beach. Isn't it so beautiful? And everyone is so nice."
"Mom," he interrupts her before she can go off on one of her tangents, "which one is my room? I'm tired. I'm going to sleep early because I want to take a walk early tomorrow."
She laughs. "Exactly my point. Eager to explore already! Upstairs, room across from the bathroom."
Shuffling away from his parents' curious gazes, he grabs his backpack and heads to said room. His stuff lands in some corner, he showers (miserably, the water is cold and the sand on his body doesn't come off without a fight), and then he grabs his phone to immediately text Yuan and Shirase about the day's events.
the sheep 🐑 (12:04 AM)
chuuya (dumb bitch #1): hi guys
yuan (dumb bitch #2): CHUUUYYAAAA!! omg how is it over there u have to tell me like. rn. and then you need to come back bc we miss u :(
shirase (dumb bitch #3): Yuan it's been like 8 hours
yuan (dumb bitch #2): so?
chuuya (dumb bitch #1): it sucks here. hot and gross. miss u guys too but will be back on august 4th
shirase (dumb bitch #3): Can't be that bad right? Have u talked to anyone yet
chuuya (dumb bitch #1): i met this group of people and they're nice and like.... rlly friendly but i miss u guys. this one guy is lowk my type but he's such an ass and i hate him. prob just gonna b friendly with them bc i don't want to look like a loser. but im tired gn guys
yuan (dumb bitch #2): you have to send me pics of him asap omg but GN CHUUYA!!!! sleep well!!! KISSES
shirase (dumb bitch #3): Night Chuuya I hope it's not that bad and u have fun
With that, Chuuya turns off his phone, flicks the light switch, and clambers into bed.