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Dazai’s skin crawled as soon as he stepped into the house, bright and colorful lights flashing all around, along with deafening music blasting. He immediately wanted to shrink and go by unnoticed, but that was impossible with a certain social butterfly of a redhead greeting everyone within his general vicinity.
Dazai never goes to parties. Like ever. Despite his disinterest in his studies, he isn’t interested in socializing and partying like his peers. He isn’t exactly shy, he just isn’t very fond of social interaction and being in the center of attention, he keeps his feelings to himself and he’s perfectly content with that.
Which is exactly why this kind of setting brings the brunette a great deal of uneasiness. Usually under no circumstances could his friends successfully convince him to attend such an event, but the friend in question this time was Chuuya. And with the way the redhead’s hopeful eyes lit up when he asked Dazai to come with him to Tachihara’s party, he couldn’t find it in him to refuse. Despite Dazai’s obstinate claims of feeling no other emotion besides hate towards Chuuya, he’s painfully aware of the feelings of affection he has for the older boy, though he would rather eat his own bandages than admit that.
So he unwillingly follows Chuuya through the crowd avoiding the weird looks thrown his way, most likely because of the fact that the ‘bandaged freak’ as they tend to call him, is walking alongside the most sociable and friendly person on campus. The redhead seemed to be unaware of the judgemental stares, or he just doesn’t care.
Most of the people there dressed in flashy and revealing party outfits, unlike Dazai who was wearing a plain black hoodie and black pants. Chuuya, on the other hand, was dressed in ripped black jeans, band t-shirt and his varsity jacket. His outfit wasn’t anything exceptional, yet he managed to catch the eye of everyone around them. Chuuya was walking confidently, smiling at everyone, even if he didn’t know half the people there. The brunette, however, walked alongside him with his head down and his hands in his pockets, trying to evade eye contact with the crowd.
They approached Tachihara, who was accompanied by the rest of their friend group. They smiled brightly once they sighted Chuuya, but their faces turned to surprise as they saw the tall brunette that was standing next to him, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, Dazai. I thought you avoided parties like the plague.” Tachihara spoke up suspiciously. The others seemed to be troubled by the same thing and Dazai sighed.
“Blame Chuuya, he’s the one who forced me to come.” the brunette responded, raising his hands defensively.
“Since when do you listen to Chuuya? I’ve tried dragging you along six times and you didn’t even go once!” Atsushi cuts in, clearly offended.
“Oh come on Atsushi, you can’t really be surprised by the fact that Dazai listens to Chuuya like a loyal little puppy,” Yosano quips with a smirk, earning herself a glare from the both of them. Before Dazai could open his mouth to protest, Tachihara beat him to it.
“Well, it doesn’t matter, let’s just hang out normally or whatever” he interjects, clearly not thrilled at the idea of an argument, especially since they just got here.
“Yeah, yeah, alright,” the brunette said defeatedly. The subject quickly gets dropped as they slip into a different conversation. Dazai spends most of the time annoying and bickering with Chuuya, rather than engaging in their friends’ topic of conversation. That is, until Chuuya gets dragged along by Shirase and Yuan, who want to catch up. They aren’t a part of their friend group, and neither side seems to be interested in changing that. Chuuya doesn’t really hang out with them the way he used to anymore, but still doesn’t completely blow them off considering they were his childhood friends.
Dazai, on the other hand, undoubtedly loathes them. Sure they apologized, and Chuuya might’ve gotten over it, but Dazai will never forget the day the redhead showed up in front of his dorm, panicking because he couldn’t remember what had happened the night before. Back when they were fifteen, his dear ‘friends’ thought it would be hilarious to spike his drink and watch him humiliate himself for their own entertainment as a prank .
Chuuya had spent the night afterwards at Dazai’s, and when he left the next day, the brunette made sure every video of Chuuya from that night was deleted, and he’s pretty sure he got the message to those two across wonderfully when he let them know just what exactly would happen should they try to repeat something like that again.
So as he watched them drag a hesitant Chuuya along, he couldn’t help the scowl that made its way onto his face. Almost as if reading his thoughts though, the shorter boy mouthed a subtle ‘don’t worry’, which relieved him a little bit, but now Dazai was left alone to participate in a conversation that he definitely didn’t want to be a part of. He absentmindedly threw in a comment here and there, but as his disinterest grew, he excused himself in order to avoid the conversation.
Dazai dropped down on the bar stool sluggishly, already irritated by his surroundings, despite the fact he hasn’t even been there for an hour. He ordered a glass of whiskey, already knowing he’ll need it to survive tonight.
“Well well, this is certainly an unexpected sight,” the familiar voice sent uneasiness through the brunette, immediately recognizing which rat it belonged to. After a second, he turned his attention towards the voice, and was met with sharp dark purple eyes and a mop of hair in a matching color. Fyodor Dostoevsky was one of the rare people who were on par with Dazai’s intelligence, except his condescending attitude and lack of the cheerful demeanour that the younger puts on make him an individual who most people are wary of. The bad blood between the two is shown with the hostile way the words are spoken.
“Whatever could you mean, Dostoevsky?” Dazai’s voice was laced with fake innocence, the false grin on his face so bright that if it was anyone else, it would come off as friendly. Fyodor simply crosses his arms over his chest, his expression smug as he continues, “I mean, it’s not every day you get to see Dazai Osamu at a college party, drinking at the bar alone. Did your boyfriend finally get tired of you, hm?”
“I’m not sure who you might be implying, but in any case, I think you should take a look at your own boyfriend first,” Dazai retorts, still flashing a smile at Fyodor, his finger pointing at the crowd. The words held a little too much malice for someone allegedly unaffected, but Dostoevsky didn't notice as his eyes darted to where Nikolai was getting very comfortable leaning into another person’s touches. His previous smug look is gone as he abruptly stands up and walks towards his boyfriend, leaving Dazai to let out an amused chuckle that he’s sure the other one heard.
The brunette turns to face the dance floor, his second glass of whiskey in hand, and scans through the horde of young adults. Their bodies are flushed together as they dance, make out, and everything else that’ll probably get carried on to somewhere private. The mere thought of this much contact with people made Dazai’s skin crawl.
He continued examining the mob, until his eyes landed on a familiar redhead. He’s surrounded by faces Dazai doesn’t recognize, lightly dancing to the music and laughing, amused by something the other person said. Dazai’s chest tightened at the scene, betraying his jealousy because it wasn’t him Chuuya was laughing with.
The brunette has been aware of his feelings for Chuuya for a while. He isn’t sure when those feelings started. In all honesty, they’ve kind of just always been there. The way his face would heat up at their hands brushing against each other, the way his heart would start beating loudly in his chest when the redhead gave him a warm grin that he only ever sent to Dazai, have always been there for as long as he could remember. The realization of what those things meant, however, hit him like a truck on a particular night when they were fifteen, when Chuuya fell asleep on the younger’s shoulder while they were playing video games and Dazai’s heart exploded. He didn’t dare to move that night, not that he wanted to, in order to not disturb the boy. Not getting a wink of sleep that night, he was left to try and solve the inner turmoil caused by this newfound information.
Dazai continued observing the exchange with annoyance, but then his stomach turned as the stranger appeared to be comfortable enough to place a hand on the redhead’s hip. Suddenly nauseous, he looked away, wanting to spare himself the inevitable pain of watching the interaction grow into something more. Dazai downed the whiskey in his hand and hurriedly pushed through the crowd and towards the exit.
As he walked outside, he leaned against the building’s wall and let out a long sigh, the stinging in his chest still present. Dazai reached into his pocket and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from it, putting one between his lips and lit it with his lighter. He let his head rest on the cold brick wall as he took a slow drag, letting the smoke flow through his lungs, only to breathe it out a few seconds later. His mind was buzzing from the alcohol, his thoughts racing.
It’s selfish, he knows that damn well, but can you blame him? Chuuya has seen all of Dazai, the good and the bad. He knows him better than anyone else can ever hope to, he can see into his mind so well that he isn’t even aware of how much hold he has over the younger. He was always there for Dazai, during the times he closed himself off and avoided everyone, he was always there to help clean him up after he littered his arms with new scars, found him after his suicide attempt and forced him to throw up the pills Dazai had swallowed. Even though he had screamed at the brunette with tears in his eyes, telling him what an idiot he is for doing this, he didn’t let go. He stayed with him all night making sure he was okay, and then the next two days after, until he was certain he could leave Dazai alone without the risk of him doing it again. But even then, that didn’t stop the redhead from calling and texting every now and then, checking on him.
And despite everything, Chuuya was never disgusted by him, never did anything to hurt him and he never left him.
Steady footsteps approached him as the person they belonged to leaned right beside him on the wall. The light of the lighter flickered as they lit their own cigarette. They took a quick drag before they spoke.
“You good? You seemed upset or some shit when you walked out,” the younger turned his head to be faced with a pair of blue eyes, expression betraying the worry on his face.
“My, my Chibi, it is quite rude to leave your dance partner like that,” he teased as he turned his head back forward to look, purposely deflecting Chuuya’s question.
“Huh? You mean that slimy bastard? Definitely not interested.”
“You sure seemed interested, with the way you were joyfully laughing at their jokes,” Dazai is trudging on dangerous ground, the words coming off a bit too bitter.
“Well I wasn’t gonna be rude to them, why do you care anyway?” the question lacked bite and was filled with genuine curiosity.
Dazai simply lifted his gaze upwards, towards the clear starry sky. He inhaled the smoke from his cigarette one last time before putting it out with the heel of his sneaker. “No reason.”
Chuuya expects a retort in the form of the younger telling him something like ‘Chuuya shouldn’t flatter himself, I’m not interested in his love life.’, but it never comes. What he doesn’t expect though, is the question he gets asked.
“Where are you going after college?”
“I dunno,” the redhead pauses to take a drag from his own cigarette, a thoughtful look painting his face, “I’ll probably end up wherever you are.”
Dazai can’t help the spark of hope that flashes through him. He turns his head to face the shorter, but he isn’t looking back at him, schooling an indecipherable expression. The street lights emphasise the redhead’s light complexion, sharp features and reddish lips, a prepossessing sight indeed.
“How can you be so sure of that?” Chuuya doesn’t notice the uncertainty in his words, and if he does, he chooses to ignore it.
“We’re always together, that’s the way it’s always been. I don’t plan on changing that.”
The older man turns his gaze towards Dazai, who meets his eyes with a slightly surprised look on his face. After the younger gives him no reply, he closes his eyes with a sigh and continues,
“It’s always been Dazai and Chuuya, Chuuya and Dazai, never one without the other. I wouldn’t be me without you, and I’m sure the same applies to you. And as much as I hate to admit it, my life would be a shit ton worse if your slimy mackerel self wasn’t in it.”
Once Chuuya finishes, he opens his eyes again only to find Dazai’s eyes impossibly wide and his jaw hanging slightly open.
Dazai is sure his heart stopped beating whilst he looks at Chuuya, pure disbelief painted on his own face. Fueled by adrenaline, he grabs the collar of the redhead’s jacket, deciding to be selfish as closes the distance between them. Their lips fit together perfectly, along with Chuuya’s hands that slotted themselves in the taller man’s hair.
Despite the fervor with which Dazai pulled the other in, the kiss isn’t rushed or harsh, both of them naturally melting into the other, Dazai’s heart beating loudly in his ears. Once they pulled away, the younger man was breathless , and not just from the kiss, but from the overwhelming being that was Chuuya. The other man was in no better condition, pupils blown infinitely wide, along with him catching his breath. He whispers four words to the brunette, that knock the air out of his lungs all over again,
“I fucking love you”
Dazai almost instantly pulls him back in, the kiss conveying the unsaid ‘I love you too’ way more than needed. As his lips move against Chuuya’s, he can’t help but wonder what his future with his slug will bring.
(He finds the answer ten years from now, when he ends up living as a famous painter, with Chuuya working as a literature teacher, a matching gold wedding band on their hands.)