Work Text:
By the time he had finished his latte, Chuuya was certain he was going to have to punch a guy in the face.
It started when he went to the campus cafe to get some studying done after his studio work. He had some time between studio and his afternoon class, and the cafe’s big windows, ambient music, and breakfast-food smell made it the nicest place to study on campus. The library was too dreary for Chuuya’s taste; he needed some natural light to motivate him. Besides, the 30% off discount for all uni students was too good to pass up. Affordable coffee was hard to come by on an art student budget.
Today, the cafe was extra cozy. A steady light rain had taken up a calm murmuring outside, and the dim lighting made the atmosphere look as warm as it felt. Lana Del Rey played softly in the background through the gentle buzz of cafe activity. ('Because the aesthetic outside TOTALLY screams Norman Fucking Rockwell, don’t you think?' Yuan, the barista and Chuuya’s classmate, had told him when he ordered his drink.)
So there he was, sipping his cinnamon vanilla latte, doing his stats homework and soaking up the vibes, when Chuuya was suddenly interrupted by a loud, rattling bang on his table. He barely caught his drink before it spilled.
“Hey! What is your problem?” Chuuya said angrily, taking his headphones out and looking up to find –
Nothing?
“Argh. Down here,” said a strained, yet smooth voice from below him.
Chuuya stood up and craned his neck to see over the table. Sprawled on the tiled floor and rubbing his head was a dude with mussed, dark hair, a sweatshirt with “EAT THE RICH” emblazoned on the front in bold capitals, and a baggy trenchcoat. He was soaking wet, Chuuya realized. Must’ve forgotten an umbrella.
Then he looked up, and Chuuya swore he stopped breathing for a minute.
Oh shit, Chuuya thought. He’s hot.
The boy on the floor couldn’t be any more than a few years older him – a college student, presumably. That mussed, dark hair gave way to warm brown eyes and a small, slightly embarrassed, but still devastating smile. His sharp features gave the impression of a statue come to life. Chuuya thought he could have come from a modeling shoot if he weren’t wearing such a ridiculous getup.
“Sorry,” the potential model chuckled, slowly getting on his feet. He was tall, Chuuya realized. “The floor must’ve been wet, and I slipped. I didn’t spill your drink, did I?”
“Oh. Um. It’s fine,” Chuuya stuttered, trying to force his brain to recalibrate. “My drink didn’t spill. You’re good.”
“Mm. That’s too bad,” the model said, a devilish smirk spreading across his face. “I was hoping I’d have an excuse to buy you another one.”
What?!
Chuuya stood, mouth opening and closing uselessly like some dumb fish who couldn’t even find the hook. Did I just get hit on by a fashion model?
“Anyways. Ciao!” the model said brightly, meandering over to order his stuff.
Well, that was something, Chuuya thought as he sat back down to finish his work. At least he didn’t make me stand there awkwardly for too long.
Still, though, it was nice and a little bit whimsical to have a gorgeous guy fall into his lap (more or less). Something inside Chuuya ached a bit now that the fairy tale was over.
~
It was not over. And it was NOT a fairy tale.
Shortly after the slip ‘n’ slide incident, the mysterious hottie had returned to sit at the table across from Chuuya with a coffee in one hand, a bagel in the other, and a suggestive wink. Chuuya, naturally, turned red as a tomato and quickly shoved his head back into his homework.
He could hear Yuan’s chuckling from the front of the cafe, and he turned to give her his meanest death glare. She merely rolled her eyes, snorted, and went back to wiping down the equipment.
Minutes turned to hours, and the mystery hottie still had not left. Chuuya peeked over his laptop every now and then, watching him type away lazily at his keyboard. Every once in a while, the boy would catch him staring and smile knowingly. And each time, Chuuya’s face would heat and he would try to disappear under his laptop.
It was slightly terrifying. But romantic, too. And fun.
Until about a few hours later when, having finished his other work, Chuuya began working on his new art assignment. He set out the few paints he had brought with him – midnight black, deep blues and purples – and began to work on blending out the background. As he painted, the mystery boy’s looks started becoming less smiley, more focused. His eyebrows inched closer together each time Chuuya dared to peek over his computer.
Does he want to see what I’m painting? Chuuya thought, pushing his bangs out of his face with his sweater sleeve.
When he looked up again, however, the pinched look on the boy’s face stilled him. His brows furrowed, nose scrunched up in… distaste?
Wait… is he judging me? Chuuya thought, and then immediately felt anger welling up inside of him.
This guy walked in soaking wet, literally fell on his table and got water all over it, then flirted mercilessly with him for the last three hours, only to be visibly judgmental of him for painting?
This fucking douchebag, Chuuya stewed, abruptly slamming his hands on his table and standing up. Mystery guy flinched and looked up at him warily.
“Okay, for real this time,” Chuuya fumed. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“What?” mystery hottie asked.
“Oh, don’t play that with me,” Chuuya spat. “You’ve been flirting with me this whole time, but the second I started painting, you’ve been looking at me like I’m a filthy fucking piece of gum that you stepped in. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you not like art majors or something?”
“Do I not like art majors…?” the guy repeated quietly.
Then, bizarrely, he started laughing.
What. The. Fuck.
“What the hell’s so funny?” Chuuya growled.
“Oh my God, are you kidding? Why would I have some vendetta against art majors? That’s so stupid!” mystery guy cackled, holding his stomach as though he was trying and failing to contain his giggles.
Stunned, Chuuya replied, “Okay, then why are you fucking glaring at me?”
The guy, finally calming down and straightening up, let another one of those slow smirks spread across his face as he took one, two, three steps closer, and now he and Chuuya were only inches away from each other. Slowly, his hand crept up, cupping Chuuya’s cheek, and then –
He pulled it away, holding it up to reveal that it was completely black.
“Your sleeve was in your paints this whole time. I was about to tell you, but then you rubbed your face, and I didn’t know how…” the mystery guy trailed off.
“Oh shit,” Chuuya breathed, racing over to the mirror on the door to the bathroom.
He had a giant smear of black, blue, and purple paint across his forehead, cheek, and in his hair. His shirt sleeve was completely soaked. He even smeared some on his neck and choker. Chuuya was astonished that he hadn’t noticed. He must’ve been too wrapped up in his work… and maybe the cute guy sitting across from him.
Shuffling back over to the hot guy who was still totally laughing at him, Chuuya hung his head and muttered “I think I owe you an apology.”
“An apology, hm?” mystery guy sing-songed, entirely too smug about the whole thing. “And what if I need more than that?”
Man, this guy really knew how to push Chuuya’s buttons.
“What the hell else do you need?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the guy teased, looking and his chipped black nail polish. “I was thinking maybe your number?”
Once again, Chuuya was stunned into silence.
“Oh… um…” he stuttered. He couldn’t keep up with all these sudden tone shifts.
Then, it was the mystery man’s turn to chuckle nervously.
“You don’t have to, of course. But I had to ask,” he said softly, briefly grabbing a piece of Chuuya’s long, paint-stained red hair between his fingers.
“No! I mean, yes!” Chuuya yelped. The mystery hottie laughed.
“So, is it no or yes?”
“Just give me your phone,” Chuuya mumbled, holding his hand out. I better not regret this, he thought.
When he saw the boy’s brown eyes light up with that breathtaking grin, he knew he wouldn’t.
“Chuuya, huh?” the boy said thoughtfully, phone back in hand.
“Chuuya Nakahara. And you are…?”
“Dazai. Osamu Dazai.”
“Dazai,” Chuuya repeated with a smile, and Dazai’s eyes brightened again. “Well, then, Dazai, I trust I’ll see you around?”
“Without a doubt,” Dazai said with a wink, drifting out of the cafe.
~
Later, walking Yuan back to the dorms after her shift, she linked her arm through his with a teasing smile and said “You know, I can’t believe you didn’t kiss him with all that paint on your face. It would’ve been super romantic.”
“Shut up,” Chuuya said, face going scarlet for the umpteenth time that day.
Then he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and Chuuya’s embarrassment paled in the face of his excitement.