Chapter Text
Don’t be silly, Dazai wasn’t spying on Chuuya.
Nonsense, absolute nonsense.
Dazai was just looking out for his best friend by overanalyzing every single tiny movement he and the boy currently talking to him -Tachihara, was it? He couldn’t care less at the moment to be honest- made from very very far where the pair wouldn’t be able to see him unless they really tried.
Which, he was quite sure they wouldn’t any time soon since they were a little too busy completely wrapped up around each other. Not quite literally, well, not as long as the taller boy decides to keep his damn distance and hands to himself instead of using them to slowly support his weight against the row of lockers behind Chuuya’s head, making him somehow look even tinier than usual.
This however didn’t inspire him to make any height joke. Hm, that was odd.
Can someone remind them they’re currently in a public space, please?
Where was their hall monitor when they needed him anyway? Probably sneaking candy from the vending machine for Ranpo. Again. They literally had security camera footage against him. On multiple occasions.
Blame it on principal Fukuzawa for having a soft spot for the beloved school sweethearts, he guessed.
Everything and everyone seemed to piss him off today. Which was quite rare, it usually happened the other way around, he has been told by his friends many many times. Especially by the redhead currently looking up at Tachihara with those stupid blue eyes behind those stupid long lashes.
And if the sight alone made his stomach violently turn, no one -preferably in a hundred feet ratio, thank you very much- needed to know. Maybe he was coming down with something. Yeah, that was surely it. That’s what he gets from stealing food from Atsushi’s bento box at lunchtime.
Who cuts carrots like little kittens' faces anyway? Sick people, that's who.
Chuuya snorts lightly, scrunching up his nose in that cute little way he always does when he’s not actually mad at something silly Dazai said or did, shaking his head and getting his fringe all over the place -his hair was getting long again, not that the brunet stared much or anything of course- gently punching Tachihara in the arm with one fist as the other covers his now smiling mouth -Oh my God, was he seriously blushing now? Chuuya almost never blushes! I mean, sure, it’s ridiculously adorable when he does but-
Wait, what was that now?
Did he just call him adorable? Did he just call flustered Chuuya ‘adorable’?
Whatever, he will deal with it later. Later as in, never. Just like he did with all of his homework really.
The short yet seemingly endless distance between him and the pair was quickly becoming a major issue to the brunet, mad he wasn’t able to thoroughly eavesdrop on whatever it was they were talking so gleefully about. The conversation apparently good enough to have his best friend giggling and almost kicking his damn feet as Tachihara leaned a little too much into his personal space if he does say so himself.
What was so interesting about the new student anyway? Ugh, could they speak any louder so Dazai would know what he’s even supposed to be upset about?
He couldn’t imagine himself interrogating his best friend later just to get the information he needed, not if he risked having the redhead gushing about it the whole time. No, thank you.
Having your best friend gushing about someone else would be weird, right? Right? He wouldn’t know. Chuuya never had a crush on anyone -well, not that he knew about at least. Till now that was.
What if Chuuya did have a crush? What is he even supposed to do?
Suddenly Chuuya pulls out his phone from his pocket and motions to it with his head, Dazai secretly praying to God or whatever entity that could spare his miserable existence from this endless emotional rollercoaster he was telling Tachihara he just remembered he had somewhere to be now -far far away, please!- and not giving him his number.
Chuuya was the star of the ADA High School’s soccer team, rightfully so since he was the captain and best player and by extension the second most popular student in their whole year after Dazai himself, the senior year class president. Literally, anyone could get his number. Why did he care so much if Tachihara had it?
Was it because he was giving it to the other boy himself? In person? Willingly?
Pulling himself out of yet another chaotically atrocious train of thought, Dazai watches his best friend wave and finally walk away and before he can even process it, he’s walking straight up to Tachiara because that's what we’re doing now apparently.
Words were out of his mouth in no time. Shocker.
No, truly. This time at least. He has always been jarringly cold and dramatically calculating, or so he was told, today however, sentences seemed to be mercilessly punched out of him one after the other.
“Hi! Dazai Osamu, senior year class president.” Dazai smiles brightly, using that same grin full of fake boyish charm he uses to make the girls from his class sigh heavily in order to piss off his right-hand man whenever meetings got ‘too boring’ or ‘too educational’ -honestly, Kunikida needed someone like him to keep him on his toes and at the very verge of an aneurism- pointing at the golden star pin on his chest he pestered the entire council to give him for about 3 months after he was sadly selected for the job.
“Hey.” Tachihara smiles back, apparently completely unaware of the wolf in sheep’s clothing lurking around him. Good.
Good? Why was that good? Where was he going with this conversation anyways?
“Couldn’t help but notice you were all over my friend over there.”
There, apparently.
“Oh, Chuuya?” The way his best friend's name sounds rolling out of someone else’s tongue, thrown around so casually, immediately making his blood simmer and his gut seak out for arson.
It felt wrong.
Weird.
“Precisely.” Dazai has never been more proud to be able to hold back whatever emotion he was dealing with at the moment, not even letting it bleed into his voice. Oda and Ango have on multiple occasions lectured him on something about the consequences of repressing his feelings or whatever, he wasn't really paying that much attention and that was actually not important right now.
“I know you’re new here and you’re probably not used to ADA High School ground rules yet and that’s okay and everything,” He waves his hands around nonchalantly as he speaks, somehow trying to reassure him it was no big deal, even if for some still annoyingly unknown reason it did felt like a very big deal. “but I must inform you that little redhead is actually mine.”
ohmygodohmygodohmy
Seriously, what is up with his brain-to-mouth filter today?
What the actual fuck did he just say?
Yeah, of course it was common knowledge the brunet was highly characterized by his lack of sensibility and not being afraid of dealing with any kind of aftermath, but it was at that moment he realized that what he just said would for sure cost him yet another week of sleep.
Great. Fantastic, even.
With his heart ringing loudly practically in his ears and his skin suddenly prickling with cold sweat, the brunet got ready to quickly brush it off as a joke, only to be interrupted when Tachihara looks at both sides of the hallway before taking a step long enough to close the distance between them, caging him pretty much like he had done with Chuuya just seconds ago.
The memory burning in the back of his head being more than enough to have him straighten himself up, not letting his facade slip away when the other boy looks up at him, clicking his tongue as he adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
“That’s funny,” Tachihara smirks, clearly satisfied with seemingly getting under the class president’s skin with little to no effort. “I don’t see your name on him.”
Oh.
Oh, now he was mad.
Dazai could feel his own jaw tighten and his hands at his sides start to twitch.
But worry not, he wasn’t one to lose his temper so easily, especially not to some pawn that intended to change the rules of the little game he took years to build and to perfect.
Not a chance.
Whatever vicious and dangerously-not-so-school-surroundings-friendly speech he had on the tip of his tongue to put him back in his place was immediately cut off by none other than Dazai’s dearest vice president, Kunikida.
“Oi, asshole.” Charming, really. And that was on a good day. “Yosano was looking for you, she needs the list of the names of this year's soccer team to request their new uniforms.”
Right, sometimes he did forget he actually had a dutty besides waving and looking pretty at assemblies.
The mention of the soccer team quickly reminding him he was actually in the middle of something important only to realize Tachihara was nowhere to be seen when he looked around, turning to find the blonde staring back at him with a bored and annoyed expression on his face.
Trying his best to get over with this as soon as possible in order to go after wherever the other boy ran off to, Dazai reaches inside his bag for the piece of paper Atsushi have given him earlier that day, stopping dead in his tracks when his eyes fall over the first name on the list.
Nakahara Chuuya.
Dazai swears he could hear Tachihara’s words on replay. Loudly. Mocking.
An unexplainable sense of possessiveness quickly ran through his veins.
Please, even if the redhead wasn’t rightfully “his” as he stated -my God, his entire face just flushed pink again, not fully believing he actually said that at loud to someone else- it was practically common knowledge by now they came as a pair. A buy-one-get-two kind of deal. Dazai and Chuuya, Chuuya and Dazai. Best friends till the end of the times. Inseparable. Everyone knew this! Well, apparently not everyone.
Now, that simply just won’t do, would it? Dazai needed to fix that, as soon as possible.
Suddenly, he was hit with the most brilliant idea ever, his best one yet after requesting for the cafeteria menu to include crab on fridays if he did say so himself.
He had to enlighten Tachihara, the poor thing, since they were so rudely interrupted.
That way he would see. That way everyone in school would see.
“You know what, Kunikida? Please tell Yosano not to worry, I will take care of it.”