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Chuuya and Dazai both liked to spend their time in bookstores. It was the kind of quiet that they needed every now and then. It was also the one thing they could agree on.
The two boys, both in highschool were tentatively titled as rivals. Tentatively because their relationship was not at all linear in its dynamic. They claim to hate each other, but they are always seen together, they fight and bicker but if one of them gets hurt then the other is the first to come running or to take care of them. There were times when they would study together, or play games together while making insane bets, and there were other times where they fought like animals and they’d insult each other all day without pause.
Most of the time they were making noise when in each other’s presence, so much so that people say wherever is the loudest is where they are, which wouldn’t really be wrong. What doesn’t sound like it happens a lot is the two of them sitting in silence.
It doesn’t sound like something they could do, but it happened more often than not as they were both actually quite introverted when it came down to it and kept to themselves or appreciated a time to relax. Bookstores were the best place to do this together as they both shared a love for literature, although Chuuya leaned more to poetry while Dazai leaned to light novels.
Currently, the two were sitting on separate beanbags, each with two piles of books. One pile is filled with books they would buy and the other is filled with ones that they wouldn’t and in Dazai’s case, a sketchbook and drawing supplies.
Chuuya didn’t know why he always brought a sketchbook with him, but after reading for a long while, Dazai would turn to the sketch book and just draw. The timing varied a lot, so Chuuya never knew just how detailed the drawings were, and he’s never actually seen any of Dazai’s art. Not that it particularly bothered him, but he couldn’t help his curiosity whenever Dazai spent more than an hour on a drawing.
But that wasn’t what was on his mind right now. Right now, what he was thinking about was what he had hidden from the other in his bag.
It was kind of ridiculous when he thought about it, it was even more stupid when he did it anyway. Chuuya never thought about doing anything like this before, much less actually do it and he had a good reason why, he honestly did; but even that didn’t feel like enough to justify his nervousness or his actions. And what was his reasoning for this?
Well, Chuuya has never been in love before.
He’s never wanted to constantly be around someone or want to take care of them as strongly as he did now, or hug them, kiss them, live with them and give them everything he could possibly give; but he felt that way now, and of all the people he had to feel this way for, it just had to be Dazai. That shitty, bandage wasting, bastard; of all the people that Chuuya had to fall for it was him.
He couldn’t tell you exactly why he fell in love with Dazai, it just happened. Chuuya knew that he hated the taller with every bone in his body, he’d laugh whenever the other got hurt, he yelled at him and hit him, and they bickered every day without fail. At the same time, Chuuya would worry for him wherever he seriously hurt himself, he wouldn’t yell as loud or as much when Dazai didn’t seem up for it in any sort of way and he’d punch him a little softer, kick him gently as if it were a nudge and he would try not to start too many fights. Doing all of these things and thinking back on it made him feel ridiculous but those were the facts and Chuuya did not like to deny himself the truth.
So, in all honesty, Chuuya hadn’t a fucking clue why he fell in love, when it happened and how, but he supposed that there were some key points that could’ve been it. If he really thought about it, then maybe he’ll finally figure out when this tragedy befell him.
In the meantime, Chuuya would struggle to focus on the book in front of him, trying to take in the words he wasn’t truly reading and not focus on the slightly bigger look of his bag that stowed away something he regretted ever making even if it was too late to turn back now. His fingers shook unnoticeably as he finally turned the page after five minutes too many, and maybe that was what triggered it all.
Dazai, who had been drawing for a good thirty minutes now, looked up at Chuuya. “Slug.” Chuuya’s eye twitched at the nickname but he responded anyway. “What?” He asked, a bit snippy to cover up his twinge of nervous energy. Dazai peered at him for a second before a grin split across his cheeks making Chuuya’s stomach flip out of annoyance (flusteredness).
“Nothing, I was just checking to see if you knew your own name!” Chuuya refrained from slamming the book shut and chucking it at the other’s face, his hand twitching, itching to fulfill the action. He couldn’t do that though, this book was too good to risk damaging it on the other’s stone face, that would be disrespectful to the author.
Instead, Chuuya shot Dazai a poisonous glare, sliding down further on his beanbag so that his legs and book covered his face from the other’s view. Dazai didn’t seem to like this development as he audibly huffed. “Chuuya, you’re an idiot.” The comment made Chuuya look up in offense. “Hah!?! What the fuck does that mean bastard?” He questioned.
“It means what it means. Chuuya is the purest of idiots!” Dazai said, turning his head away like a child. “I’ll kill you later, you bastard.” Chuuya grumbled, sitting back again to try and continue his book, the nervousness slowly coming back as he debated whether he should give Dazai what he had made for him.
This also didn’t seem to sit right with Dazai as after about 5 minutes, he scooched over so that he could see Chuuya from behind his book. “What’s Chuuya thinking about?” He asked. Chuuya scoffed. “Nothing interesting to you.” He said with a bite to his words.
“Hm, well we’ll never know unless you tell me, stupid chibi. C’mon, speak puppy!” Chuuya could feel his face begin to burn with irritation starting from his neck and rising up as Dazai continued to beckon him like a dog. Really, that dumbass didn’t act like he knew what decency was most of the time. Either way, this didn’t fail to get a rise out of Chuuya as he finally picked up a book from one of the piles beside him and chucked it strongly at Dazai’s face.
Dazai narrowly dodged the book with a light yelp and the bang that resulted from the hardcover book hitting the wall resounded loudly in the store. The two stared quietly, tensely waiting for a member of staff to walk over and promptly kick them out, but when nothing happened, Chuuya went straight to insulting Dazai.
“Quit doing that! Your so fucking annoying!” He exclaimed, leaning forward as if to threaten the other, which Dazai only took as a challenge. “Eh? But you responded to it! Clearly there isn’t any better way to call you than this!” Chuuya glared at him as he grabbed another book to throw before Dazai’s next words quickly stopped him.
“If Chuuya gets us kicked out I’ll never forgive him!”. As much as Chuuya hates to admit it, if he did this anymore than they both would get kicked out for causing such a disturbance and possibly damaging books and Chuuya did not want to get kicked out, he positively loves this place. So, reluctantly, he put the book back down, looking for a different way to hit Dazai without actually having to put his hands on him, he didn’t want to dirty himself with the brunettes' fishiness after all.
‘Aw~ Poor Chibi can’t hit me now? Oh, whatever shall he do!?” Dazai said, dramatically narrating Chuuya’s predicament. Chuuya grumbled as he looked around a bit more before his eyes finally landed on exactly what he needed. “Yeah, whatever shall I fucking-” He grabbed Dazai’s sketchbook and reeled his arm back to throw it at Dazai, knowing he’ll attempt to catch it, but just as he had thrown it, he had caught a glimpse of a page, something that had taken him aback. “-..do…”
Chuuya watched as Dazai yelped in his attempt to catch it, only for it to hit him in the cheek but Chuuya didn’t care for his whining, nor his complaints and purposefully pitchy voice. No, his mind was on what he saw. Flashes of peachy, of blue and a generous amount of fiery orange; it was so familiar, yet so strangely unfamiliar at the same time because he couldn’t have seen that right.
That couldn’t have been… him…right?
Right???
The more he watched Dazai fiddle with the book, checking to see if it was damaged or not, the more he wanted to ask because that thought was just ridiculous, why would Dazai have drawn him? Maybe Chuuya saw it wrong and it was just conveniently his very defining colors on a piece that was most certainly not him. It couldn’t be right? Dazai would never draw him; he would never, he would never he just wouldn’t-!
“Are… Are you drawing me?”
Why had he asked anyway?
Dazai’s gaze immediately snapped up to him and no matter how hard he tried to hide it afterwards, Chuuya still saw the very, very small moment of panic flash through his eyes and that by itself confirmed his suspicions. Dazai smiled and laughed in the face of being caught, and he was good at hiding, at lying, but Chuuya knew him. Lying wouldn’t work for him right now.
“Eh? Chibi’s gone crazy, why would I ever want to draw his ugly face?” Dazai laughed. He laughed and laughed and all Chuuya could think was how he had laughed for a few seconds too long to possibly be telling the truth. Chuuya’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again and closed once more, floundering like fish, fumbling like a newborn deer as he hadn’t a clue on what to do now. Seeming to finally realize he was caught and unable to lie his way out of it, Dazai averted his gaze as his expression sat carefully nonplussed.
“Wha- why? You-” Chuya tried again and again to say something, to put his scrambled thoughts into words but nothing was making sense anymore. How could it be when someone who he considers his rival, someone he's gone and stupidly fallen in love with, drew him . He knew he wasn’t the ugliest and that he stood out with his unique features, but he never thought someone would ever want to draw him.
Selfishly, Chuuya wanted to see it. What it looked like, what he looked like, how Dazai saw him. He couldn’t explain why he wanted to see it so badly, he only knew that he did and that Dazai would most definitely be against it. Reluctantly, Chuuya sat back, shifting back into his original position, his legs covering his blushing expression and his face buried much farther into the book than before and he most certainly wasn’t reading it now.
Awkwardly, they settled back into silence that wasn’t all that comfortable. Now, the air felt charged with something, electrified with every shift and shuffle and it was hard to relax again. Chuuya didn’t properly see the drawing, all he knew was that it existed and that was it. Soon, the stretching of a pen started again and Chuuya had to swallow down another rush of red from blooming on his face.
The scratching went from a pen to a marker after another 20 minutes, then back to a pen after another 30 and so on. The pit in his stomach was big and felt as hollow as it was full. What strange things these feelings could make him feel.
As those familiar sounds continued, the butterflies would stir in his stomach, his ribcage would squeeze his quickly beating heart without mercy and it hurt, but it hurt in a good way, the best way possible. He could hardly get rid of the blush that seems to have imprinted itself on his face. Now that he wasn’t hiding it anymore, Chuuya could almost feel every time Dazai looked up at him and then back down at the page to continue whatever he was doing and if that didn’t fluster him further then he was lying shamelessly.
After some more time, Dazai let out an audible and exaggerated sigh, startling the red head out of his thoughts. When he looked up, Dazai was staring right at him, making the smaller of the two jolt at the sudden eye contact but he didn’t break it. Dazai made a show of putting his book down and standing up, not breaking eye contact until he began to walk away, disappearing around the corner.
Chuuya knew what that look meant and the deliberation in which he made sure Chuuya saw his every action. It was an invitation. Permission to take a chance and look, permission to confirm what it was he saw.
Chuuya did not know why Dazai decided to do this. Both of them were very private people and that was both obvious and, dare he say, respected. So, for Dazai to do this? It’s a sign of vulnerability, he’s just handing his vulnerability over to Chuuya, just like that. It was strange to think about, even crazier to see, but Chuuya couldn’t stop the way it made a tingly feeling swell up in his heart.
He waited for a moment or two before reaching for the book, careful in the way he picked it up as if it were a precious vase, one that cost more than a billion dollars. He opened up to the first page and was greeted with Dazai’s name, and his homeroom number, probably in case he lost it, although Chuuya highly doubted the other would lose something like this.
When he opened the book, he was immediately greeted with fiery orange.
Dozens and dozens of drawings of him, sketches both complete and not with a high level of skill. They were beautiful, beyond beautiful even, so much so that Chuuya didn’t know if he could even find a word to describe it and… Chuuya never thought himself to be beautiful, but Dazai’s drawings always made him appear so glorified.
Is this how Dazai saw him? He almost didn’t want to believe it. Ridiculous, beyond ridiculous even. He flipped through more and more pages, all of them varying, all of them of different themes and concepts and ideas, and yet they were all him. Not one of the pages contained anyone else but him.
Absently, Chuuya could feel the glowing red on his face. The rabbiting thumps of his heart, the squeeze of his lungs as every drawing took his breath away. After flipping for a few minutes, the pages seemingly endless, he finally found the drawing Dazai had been working on, the one that Chuuya had caught just a glimpse of and it was stunning.
It was him when he was reading just a few minutes ago, before this all began. He looked relaxed and content, a near smile on his lips and his eyes soft. The drawing captured every detail that shone in the moment, his faint wash of freckles, the relaxed expression on his face and the look of pure contentment in his eyes. It’s as if Dazai always drew the best him, even if it was the real him.
His heart wouldn’t stop beating so fast and his stomach did flips as he read the title. All of Dazai’s art had a title and somehow it always seems to bring everything together.
‘The Story of Contentment’
Suddenly, Chuuya felt as if he was loved.
Suddenly, Chuuya wasn’t so nervous anymore.
Without wasting another second, Chuuya put down the book and opened his own bag, pulling out the gift he had handmade for the other and stuffing it in Dazai’s bag. He put it back as similarly as he could but he was sure Dazai would see the miniscule adjustment to his bag, he always saw the small things after all. Maybe that was just his eyes as something of an artist, Chuuya wouldn’t know.
He waited a few minutes until he heard those familiar footsteps coming back again and Chuuya couldn’t help but face away from where Dazai would appear, not wanting the other to see the redness of his face. When Dazai came back, Chuuya heard him pause, he obviously saw Chuuya’s turned back and the change of position with his bag. Soon his steps came back into motion, although a lot slower this time.
When he sat down, Chuuya didn’t even need to look to know that Dazai noticed the added size of his bag and hearing the zip being undone had Chuuya’s heart almost beating out of his chest. The red head closed his book after putting his bookmark in it and stood up, walking to his bag and picking it up, along with the pile of books he wanted to purchase. He hasn’t read any of them yet, but he had been reading the one at the moment because it caught his eye.
“I’m heading out now.” Chuuya said, hesitating as he struggled to turn to face Dazai, almost nervous about his reaction. And yet when he turned around he was greeted by something pleasant and unexpected. He inhaled sharply at the face Dazai was making, so pink and open, so honest and loving.
He looked so struck. It was almost painful for Chuuya to look at him. But in a nice way.
“I-..I have to…” Chuuya tried, struggling to say it again as Dazai hugged the plushy close to his chest, the fish shaped stuffy being squished against his chest as his gaze turned to Chuuya. At this point, Chuuya couldn’t even utter a sound, too taken with the look on the other’s face to say anything.
Slowly, Chuuya squeezed the pile of books to his chest and broke their eye contact, his eyes now looking anywhere but at Dazai. Eventually, Chuuya left, unsure if he could stay there any longer as he couldn’t trust himself to not do something stupid.
He walked and he walked, he purchased his books, put them in his bag and walked again. Outside the shop, down the street until he found a bench in a park to sit down on.
For a few minutes, he just stared off, mind long gone as he thought back to that moment over and over again. He felt stupid, really stupid about how hooked he was on Dazai and every moment he showed genuine emotion. He looked shocked, surprised, in absolute disbelief; and Chuuya’s never seen such an expression on his face before, it felt too intimate because of that, it felt as if he was being shown something no one has ever or would ever see.
Selfishly, that made him undeniably happy.
Selfishly, he wanted to see more. More and more and more-
He hadn’t a clue when he had curled up into a ball on that bench, clutching his bag as if his life depended on it, but he was and he listened to people walk by. Some of them slowed down, confused by his posture and what he was doing but they kept going, some didn’t spare him a glance and very few asked him if he was okay, to which he could only hum. Throughout all of this Chuuya hadn’t moved an inch.
He wasn’t hungry, the butterflies occupied the space in his stomach so he didn’t move. He didn’t have anywhere to be, his legs felt too much like jelly to move anyway. He didn’t feel as though he needed to go home, his quickly beating heart told him to stay where he was. In the end, that seemed to be the right choice.
Another pair of feet, walking, slowing down; but they were familiar, he knew the weight of those feet and the speed in which the other walked. Why Dazai was here, he didn’t know.
“I was looking for you. Thought you would be here.” Chuuya only nodded at this information. Chuuya knew that Dazai knew he was here the whole time. If he thought he knew Dazai well, then he’d dare to think that Dazai didn’t come to him sooner because he wanted to give the redhead space. How nice would it be if Dazai was actually being considerate? The mere thought made Chuuya blush to the apples of his cheeks.
“Chuuya ran away so quickly… That’s rude, didn’t you know?”. Again, Chuuya didn’t respond, only closing in on himself a little tighter. Dazai sighed and flipped through a book, the pages falling apart and together, a familiar sound, a comforting one. The sound that wasn’t familiar was the sudden rip. The tearing immediately caught Chuuya’s attention and he knew for a fact that Dazai never tore any of the books he buys; although he has difficulty taking care of himself, Dazai always kept his books in pristine condition with no exception.
Really, the only logical conclusion was that it was a page from his sketchbook that he was tearing up. But even that didn’t make any sense because from what Chuuya has seen only flipping through it once was that like all his other books, Dazai took care of his sketchbook just as well. He couldn’t understand at all what madness was going through Dazai’s head to just tear up such hard work.
Well, he didn’t understand until Dazai slipped a folded piece of paper through the gap between his stomach and the bag. For a moment, Chuuya didn’t do anything, but hesitantly, he grabbed the paper and held it for a bit, already hazarding a guess as to what it was.
“You…drew me.” Chuuya muttered. Dazai hummed in response.
This picture was different from the other he had seen, it was rushed but no less skilled. It was of him, holding out the plush that he had given Dazai, his face had a small scowl but somehow, he conveyed enough emotion to show that it didn’t mean he was upset. He was nervous.
And then, there was another hand accepting the gift. Bandaged and thin and pale in comparison to himself. It was Dazai. This is the first time Chuuya has seen even the smallest drawing of anyone but himself, even if it was just his hand.
“And…yourself.” He finished. Dazai only hummed again.
Chuuya breathed out a hesitant sigh, he folded the drawing carefully and put it in his pocket. He knew what he would do with it when he got home. He’d find a frame big enough to hold it online and buy, and he would hang it up in his room like a trophy. As embarrassing as it was to admit, he knew without a doubt that that is what he will do.
Chuuya couldn’t bear to look at Dazai, he was sure the brunette could already see the red on his ears, he could not possibly show him his face. “..Thanks… shitty mackerel.”
Dazai laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound Chuuya has ever heard.