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Dazai Osamu wasn’t one to believe in angels, fairies or any other mystical beings. Creatures so light they could walk on water, so beautiful and pure that you felt a peaceful bliss by just looking at them. Beings that would grant wishes or take care of you in exchange only of kindness. It sounded way too good to be true, therefore, he refused to believe in any of it.
Until the day an angel saved him, that is.
He was fourteen years old, had been Mori’s protegé for about five years and it wasn’t the first time he had thought about killing himself.
It was, however, his very first suicide attempt. There had been a few others before, but he hadn’t put any actual effort into them, so he supposed they didn’t count. They had been more of a “I don’t particularly care if I survive or not” than a “I really hope I go into an eternal sleep”. And so, this was the first time Dazai was trying to die.
Nothing especially bad had happened for him to pick up Mori's scalp and slice his wrist open in an empty alley, far away from the Port Mafia’s headquarters. It was just...heavy. Existence was a dread. Him being alive didn’t mean anything other than the fact that he was eventually going to die. He became Mori’s protegé in order to observe dying people, since he thought that maybe if he saw how they held tightly to life, he would come to realise what was so good about living.
Needless to say it didn't work. He just thought that they looked so pathetic trying to bargain for more time, when it was so clear that this was the end of the line for them. There were no deals with Life, and dying was just a small part of it.
More than anything, Dazai was just tired. So awfully tired of it all. Tired of worrying about every little detail, of not finding joy anywhere, in anything, with anyone. Life was dull and exhausting and he couldn’t take anymore of Mori’s “playtime”. So there he was, slicing his wrist in half as he hissed in pain, directly beneath the midday sun. Just because he gave up on looking for a reason not to. Just because he couldn’t take it anymore. Just because he was tired.
And it hurt way more than he'd expected, even with the alcohol he drank in an attempt to ease the pain and get the blood flowing faster. But there was some kind of rush going through his head, making him feel high and powerful. As if he could overcome the pain. As if he had to do it. As if he was meant to take his own death by the hand and dance with her. So when blood began to run down his arms, dripping onto the floor and staining his clothes, his head finally started to clear out from the incessant turmoil of thoughts. Dazai could feel himself slipping away, fading into a void of existence, shifting into something so light nothing could get him. He was dying and absolutely adored the feeling.
The blood loss caused him to close his eyes and fall to the dirty floor almost peacefully.
“Hey!” someone shouted in the distance. Or maybe it was close by.
Dazai couldn’t be too sure.
“Come on, dammit, wake up!” the voice said after what felt like seconds, this time with small slaps across his face. Which was an odd sensation, given the fact that Dazai was pretty sure he didn’t have a body anymore.
“Please, wake up” was just a whisper now, but he heard it loud and clear. The voice was quite lovely, but also pretty harsh, and it made him curious to see who it belonged to. That soon proved to be an unbelievable challenge, since his eyes felt like they were sewn together, he barely managed to flutter them open and only enough to catch a glimpse of a very vivid orange.
“I saw your eyes move! Well, the visible one at least… Now you gotta try and keep them open, yeah?” said the lovely voice above him. A sharp pain ran all the way up his arms when Dazai tried to use them to wipe his eyes, making him let out an involuntary pained hiss “Oh yeah, don’t do that. You lost a lot of blood and I just finished patching you up, so it’s probably not a good idea to move your arms right now.”
“What happened?” Dazai asked weakly, but the moment the question left his mouth he remembered everything. The scalp he stole, the place he chose, the pain he felt. “Nevermind… ugh, I remember.” a frustrated breath escaped his mouth without consent and he felt tears threatening to overflow. Which was weird, given the fact that he wasn’t sad, he was simply …numb.
“Yeah, that’s a good thing, I guess…” Dazai couldn’t see his face, but the tone of his voice indicated he was very uncomfortable with the whole… suicide topic, not that he could blame the other boy, it wasn’t everyone that could joke about it like the brunette did. He tried to open his eyes once more, finally being successful, and blinked several times before adjusting to the late afternoon light.
And then his heart shot into his throat. The boy leaning over him was absolutely stunning, way too pretty to be human. He had to be some kind of ethereal being, and that meant…
“Am I dead? Did I actually do it?”
“No, dammit. You are very much alive and all thanks to me.” the boy answered, it sounded like his patience was wearing thin ''You're welcome, by the way.”
Now, Dazai had a couple options about what to do, he could: a) be a normal person and thank the boy, then be on his merry way back to the Port Mafia; b) tell him he didn’t owe him anything, since he didn’t ask to be saved; or c)…
“No, nonononono. You are way too gorgeous to be human, so you have to be some sort of angel. Hence: I am dead” Dazai decided to go with the last option: shamelessly flirt with the redhead, while displaying what he hoped to be a seductive grin.
“What the fu-” the boy started, obviously not expecting it. Even so, he had a comeback quicker than Dazai expected "Bold of you to assume you'd go into heaven, really."
"Not even going to acknowledge the compliment? How cold of you." he dramatically said "And how would you know if I'd go into heaven or not? You don't even know me! I could be the next Buddha for all you care!"
"Oh yeah, you look… enlightened, for sure" the blue eyed teen sarcastically answered "Anyway, it looks like you’re all better now, seeing as you can fight for your place in heaven. Can you sit?”
Dazai shrugged slightly as tried to do it by himself. When it became clear that he was struggling a little too much, the redhead gave him a bit of support, but even with the boy’s help, it was still painful and his head felt very heavy. Eventually they managed to get him into a sitting position and he leaned on the wall with his eyes closed. After a while, he felt a soft nudge on his shoulder and turned to look at the other teenager, who had in his hands a bottle of water and a pill. Dazai looked up at him, the distrust he felt must have been obvious in his face, since the boy rolled his eyes almost theatrically.
“I literally just saved your life, dumbass, I'm not gonna poison you or some shit like that. It’s a painkiller.” he practically spat the words. “Do you think you can hold the bottle or is it still too much?”
It did hurt a lot, but now that the heaviness on his head seemed to be passing, it was nothing that Dazai couldn't handle. Between being Mori’s protegé and working in the mafia, he had been in some extremely painful situations. However, this felt like an opportunity to have the pretty boy help him a bit more, and he couldn’t pass that up, could he? Who knows when they’d get to meet again! So he tried to move his arms and exaggerated his pained expression just a little, tiny, bit. Or maybe he overdid, seeing how the boy rolled his eyes once more, before helping him out anyway.
Turns out being helped to drink water wasn’t exactly as nice as he expected it to be. The boy turned the bottle a little too much and Dazai moved his head away in reflex, resulting in his clothes getting completely soaked. The look on his face must’ve been hilarious, because the blue eyed teen just burst out laughing. And Dazai wanted to be mad at him, he really did. But how could he be angry, when the cause of his problems laughed so beautifully?
The boy’s head was thrown back, making way to a loud and bright laugh that echoed in the empty alley. His blue eyes were shut closed because of the way his high cheeks pressed onto them. The entirety of his body swayed with laughter, from his torso to the locks of his hair, it all followed the rhythm imposed by his amusement. The clear sound it made, the last rays of sunlight hitting his hair just in the right ways, it made him look all the more sublime.
Dazai was completely entranced by it. No more pain, no more intrusive thoughts, no more nothing - just the lively laugh from the lively teen. A fleeting thought occurred to him at that moment, so quick and so dimmed it almost slipped away from him entirely: that boy was alive. And it was beautiful. And he wanted it.
He wanted him.
“I’m so sorry,” the radiant boy said, a smile still big on his face “you were being so dramatic, and then you spilled the water, it was… too funny, I couldn’t help it.”
“It’s fine” Dazai answered, being pulled away from his thoughts “Do you have painkillers, bandages and well…” he gestured to the small box with medical stuff that laid on the floor next to them “an emergency kit with you at all times?”
“Of course not,” the redhead answered, taking some tissues from the box to try and dry a bit of the spilled water. Dazai’s breath hitched on his throat with the careful tapping on top of his shirt, but the boy either didn’t notice or spared him from commenting “I saw you bleeding on the floor and decided to help you, but I couldn’t lift you up for some reason. So I- ahn… ran to my… house? Grabbed the kit, came back as fast as I could and patched you up to the best of my abilities. I’m no medical professional, though, so you might wanna check that out with an actual doctor.”
Note to self: he’s a terrible liar.
But Dazai wouldn’t pry too much, not now at least. He would dig all of the information he wanted later at the Port Mafia’s headquarters, with all the eyes and ears he had throughout Yokohama, it’d be very easy to find out every single detail about the teen’s life. And then, he could begin to plot a strategy to have the boy under his command.
“I see.” It was all he said as he decided to try and stand up. Apparently, the redhead fully expected him to fall over, seeing by the way he quickly stretched out his arm to try and support him, and frankly so did Dazai. When he was completely sure his steps wouldn’t betray him, he looked down at the boy in front of him and asked: “So, what is the name of my petite saviour?”
“I am not ‘petite’, jackass, I’m still growing, for fucks’ sake. Not my problem if you’re a damned beanpole.” was the offended reply he received. And, just as Dazai was gathering enough air to continue insulting what appeared to be a sore spot, the boy continued “I’m Nakahara Chuuya. And you are…?”
Nakahara Chuuya, the King of the Sheep, his mind provided him immediately after the name left its owner's mouth. He has an outstanding ability and his little gang has been inconveniencing the Port Mafia. Dazai grinned madly, a plan to have this boy by his side beginning to take shape in his mind.
“Ooh, I have a slight suspicion you're gonna regret saving me, Nakahara Chuuya.”