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“What are you reading, there?”
Chuuya looks up from his tablet first at Akutagawa, then at the coffee he places on the desk. “Script for this year’s production.”
Akutagawa raises his eyebrows and takes a seat. “You’re going to audition?”
“I’m thinking about it. I haven’t done a play since high school.”
“Which play are you auditioning for?” Akutagawa asks.
“The Ghost of Evangeline, maybe. Connie sounds like a fun character.”
Akutagawa hums and nods. “I auditioned for the other one.”
Chuuya switches tabs to look at the other play’s title. “My Kingdom For Your Love? Isn’t that a little flowery for you?”
“Have you even read the script?” Akutagawa asks. “It’s so dramatic. Several people almost die at various points. I auditioned for a minor role, though.”
Chuuya scrolls to the character list.
“There,” Akutagawa says, pointing. “Piper Merula.”
Chuuya raises his eyebrows. “The little sister?”
“Most of the girls in the theater club got casted for The Ghost of Evangeline so they’re looking for anyone willing to take the minor roles and they’ll alter the play to make it work. Or I could wear a wig. Anyway, Atsushi auditioned for Sage.”
“Sage,” Chuuya mumbles, scanning the character list until he finds the name, Sage Callum. He grins at Akutagawa. “Oh, I see what this is. You want to act with your boyfriend.”
Akutagawa folds his arms and looks away. “Sage is kind of badly written with all the stupid or offensive cliches, but she uses her hands a lot to identify people because she’s blind. I’d prefer it if Atsushi didn’t have his hands all over some pretentious bastard’s face if he gets the part.”
“Aww, you’re preemptively jealous!” Chuuya chuckles when Akutagawa pouts and refuses to respond. “And what if I decide to audition for Sage? I’ll get the part with no arguments.”
“Oi, stay in your lane. Leave the minor characters for us amateurs. Why don’t you audition for Sylvester?”
Chuuya shrugs. “I’m not fond of the royal costumes the theater uses.”
“No one’s auditioned for Ellis yet and he’s a main character who isn’t going to be all dressed up fancy.”
“I’ll think about it,” Chuuya says. “I’m not even sure I want to audition anyway. Like I said, I haven’t done theater since high school.”
“It’s your final year,” Akutagawa says with a shrug. “Why not show the theater club what they’ve been missing out on, not pestering you to join back in your first year?”
Chuuya looks at the script, thinking about it. Maybe it’ll be nice to be on stage again.
Dazai doesn’t give much attention to things. He certainly pays attention, but very rarely does anyone know he’s doing so. It’s probably the way he sits, with his head back and his arms behind his neck.
He cracks an eye open when he hears Atsushi greet Kyoka.
“Hey, I thought you guys weren’t working this week because of assessments at school.”
“We’re not,” Kyoka says. “We’re here for advice.”
“Advice?” Atsushi asks, raising his eyebrows at the group that enters the coffeeshop. “Well, can I make you guys something to drink? I’m testing out something I want to ask to add to the menu, but Dazai won’t taste test for me.”
“You’re being a bad manager, Dazai,” Kyoka scolds.
Dazai waves dismissively at her, but he sits up to listen as Atsushi gets busy and the group seats themselves at the counter. There’s just enough empty chairs for the four of them.
“Hello, Dazai,” Kenji says.
“Hi,” Dazai says.
“So,” Atsushi says as he turns back with a tray and gives each of them a drink. “What sort of advice are we talking about?”
“You were in your high school’s drama club, right?” Naomi asks.
Atsushi nods.
“Well, we want some tips. Haruno and I auditioned for two of the major roles in our school’s production for this year and our teacher said we might get it, but neither of us have ever been in a lead role before.”
Kyoka nods. “And Kenji and I have only ever been Tree Number Three and Four, but we also auditioned for bigger roles in the play this year.”
“Guys, I’m not a professional. I was just in the club. I was actually a stand-in more often than an actor.”
“Yeah, but you know The Ghost of Evangeline like the back of your hand,” Haruno says. “I auditioned for Evangeline.”
The title catches Dazai’s interests. It’s one of the two plays his college theater group is doing this year.
“Ooh, that’s a big role,” Atsushi says.
“I like this,” Kenji says, pointing to his cup. “And obviously you’d know. You were Evangeline in your third year of high school.”
Dazai leans forward to join the conversation, eyebrows raised. “You played Evangeline? That’s a really complex role.”
“Tell me about it,” Atsushi says, rolling his eyes. “That’s why I didn’t audition for it this year. I can’t believe they’re still doing that play in high schools. There’s a lot of body language you have to put into that role, Haruno, but I’m sure you’ll do just fine. It’s a high school play, not a Broadway production.”
“Still,” Dazai says, “a complex role is always a complex role. Evangeline is more of a feeler than a speaker. Why didn’t you audition for Connie?”
Atsushi glares at the counter. “I did, but they picked Tanizaki because he’s funnier and Connie’s a generally funny character. Gin laughed at me for two days.”
“Did you kiss my brother?” Naomi whispers.
“What? No. The high school teachers cut that bit out. Your brother auditioned for Connie again in college this year, so you should probably go give his new co-actor a shovel talk instead of me.”
“Wait,” Dazai says, “you auditioned for My Kingdom for your Heart? Atsushi, that whole thing is complex.”
“I auditioned for Sage. She shows up maybe five times in the whole play. Oh!” Atsushi smiles at Dazai. “We don’t have any lead actors yet because most of the bolder members chose to act in The Ghost of Evangeline. Why don’t you audition?”
Dazai scoffs. “I don’t do theater.”
“But you’re so dramatic,” Kyoka states flatly.
“That hurts my feelings, Kyoka.”
“It’s true.”
“Ryuunosuke says you did theater in high school,” Atsushi says.
“That was then and this is now. Ask Yosano. She likes acting.”
“Hm. I will.”
“Anyway,” Haruno says, “we just wanted some tips on doing big roles. Like how you remember your lines and how you act better than the rest. You did Evangeline really well, so we figured if anyone would know some tips, it’d be you.”
Dazai tunes Atsushi out. He didn’t know the theater group was short on actors. He wonders for a moment if he should audition.
Would he still enjoy acting if he didn’t share the stage with Chuuya anymore?
Chuuya auditions for Ellis, but they have him read both Sylvester and Corvus’ lines as well. It’s painfully obvious who they’d prefer him to play based on how excited they look when he reads Corvus’ lines.
Akutagawa snickers when he tells him that he got the part for Corvus. He asks Akutagawa if he knows who got casted as Sylvester, but Akutagawa shrugs and says he hasn’t a clue.
When the trial rehearsals begin, Chuuya arrives with Akutagawa, who vanishes the moment Atsushi arrives. Chuuya rolls his eyes, not in the slightest bit surprised.
“Hey, you.”
“Ane-san,” Chuuya says when he sees Kouyou. “I didn’t know you auditioned.”
Kouyou smiles. “I heard they were short on actors after half the club went for the other play. I haven’t met the rest of the cast yet. Who are you?”
“Corvus. You?”
“Ah, the snappish knight. Suits you perfectly. I’m the princess you say would die for, Atella.”
“Ah, but what Corvus says and what he does are worlds apart.”
Kouyou pats Chuuya’s head. “Much like you. I wonder who they casted for Sylvester and Ellis. I hope they can act, at the very least.”
“Ever the perfectionist, huh?”
“I just like things done properly. Plus, what’s a stage production worth if the actors cannot emulate raw emotion?”
Chuuya rolls his eyes as he joins the circle the cast members have formed. He spots Atsushi and Akutagawa sitting together and pointing at something in the script before snickering to themselves. Children.
“Hey,” Chuuya whispers, nudging Kouyou, “isn’t that the med student you hooked up with last year? Yosano Akiko?”
“Hm?” Kouyou glances in the direction Chuuya gestures to. “What — it’s fine. I’ve done theater since I was eight. I can be professional. Besides, she’s probably Piper or something.”
“Piper is Akutagawa.”
“Sage —”
“Is Atsushi.”
Kouyou looks at Chuuya hopefully. “Maybe she’s just an extra?”
Chuuya scoffs. “Yeah, right. I saw her in last year’s production. There’s not a chance she has a minor role. Maybe she’s playing Celia.”
“That would be incredibly awkward, given that Celia is Atella’s mother.”
Chuuya gives Kouyou a grin and turns away from her when someone calls for everyone’s attention. He introduces himself as Kunikida and lets them all know that he’s in charge of this play. He explains what a trial rehearsal is for anyone who auditioned and got the part for the first time, but he reassures them all that he doesn’t think anyone will get cut, given that they had to offer extra credit to students who weren’t even in the theater club to fill the roles since everyone seemed to prefer acting in The Ghost of Evangeline.
“Can our four leads please stand so everyone can see you?”
Chuuya and Kouyou stand and, much to Kouyou’s horror, so does Yosano.
“Everyone, this is your Corvus, Atella, Ellis, and — I’m going to kill him.”
“I’ll go get him,” Atsushi says, raising his hand and standing. “I’m pretty sure I saw him outside when I got here.”
“Thank you, Atsushi.”
“Do you know who Sylvester is?” Kouyou whispers.
“I know no more than you do, Ane-san.”
“I hate tardy people.” Kouyou turns to the doors behind Chuuya and her face twists like she ate a lemon. “Of all the people. . .”
“Who is it?”
“Hi, everyone, sorry I’m late. I was trying to run away from — Chuuya! Hello!”
“Dazai,” Chuuya says, wondering which fucker cursed him this badly.
Chuuya punches Dazai.
“What are you doing?!” Kunikida cries from the seats.
“He blocked,” Chuuya says. “He’s fine.”
“That hurt,” Dazai whines. “The script says you’re supposed to protect me, not try to kill me yourself!”
“You can’t even stick to the script yourself!”
“Improv is different from punching your cast mate!”
“You are insufferable! I hate you!”
Chuuya stalks to the wings.
“Yeah, I hate you too!” Dazai snaps, stalking off in the other direction.
Kunikida sighs and drops his head into his hands. After a moment, he looks at Atsushi and Akutagawa behind him. “Go buy me painkillers, since you’re the ones that told me it would be a good idea to have them on stage together.”
“Yes, sir,” Atsushi says, tripping over himself in an attempt to flee the theater.
Kunikida finds that when Chuuya and Dazai do not share a scene, they are both phenomenal actors. They bring their characters to life in a way that Kunikida has never seen in his four years with the theater group. He catches them on campus grounds with friends, reading lines to practice and even then, away from the echoes the stage provides, reading the words off the page instead of speaking them to their scene partners, they still grab attention.
Then Kunikida tries to get a feel for their scenes and each attempt is somehow worse than the last. Chuuya smacks Dazai with his prop sword. Dazai throws a prop chair at Chuuya and shatters it. Chuuya swears Dazai’s entire bloodline. Dazai curses Chuuya to the seventh circle of hell.
By the end of the week, Kunikida wants to drop out of college entirely. He can’t fathom how these are supposed to be those high school students the city was talking about for months, who could put on performances better than anything the audience had ever seen. Kunikida had heard of them before he met Dazai, of course, but watching them try everything short of actually killing each other on stage, it’s a little hard to reconcile his college friend and Atsushi’s boyfriend’s friend with what was essentially two child stars.
On that Saturday, however, Kunikida gets whiplash.
“Okay, the only scenes we haven’t run through at least once are the ones with Sylvester and Corvus in the same scene,” Kunikida says. “Can we please try to get through them today?”
“Only if Chuuya behaves,” Dazai snaps, side-eyeing Chuuya.
“Fuck off, dickface.”
Kunikida sighs and walks off the stage. He stands in the aisle between the seats and looks down at his script. “Okay, from Atella’s line, ‘This is the youngest prince of Cyra,’ please.”
Kunikida watches Kouyou glance at her script before beginning. She delivers her line beautifully, gesturing to Dazai.
Dazai, damn him to the pits of the darkest caves on this earth, looks Chuuya up and down and does not say the line in the script.
“I didn’t know they made knights in child sizes.”
Kunikida pinches the bridge of his nose and waits for the inevitable nuclear bomb. Chuuya does not blow up. He scoffs. He goes with it.
“Princess,” Chuuya says, looking at Kouyou, “shall I dispose of him?”
“Now, now, let’s not be too hasty.” Dazai dips into a bow and delivers the line that is in the script. “A pleasure to meet Neoma’s finest.”
“A flatterer, are you?” Chuuya asks. “Is that how you plan to whisk my princess away?”
“Your princess?” Dazai leans down, getting in Chuuya’s face. “Am I meant to fight you for her hand, then?”
“You can certainly try, your highness,” Chuuya sneers, flicking Dazai’s imaginary tie.
“Please,” Dazai says in a voice dripping with honey, “your highness is my brother. Call me Sylvester.”
“Hm.” Chuuya turns towards Kouyou, but he keeps his gaze on Dazai. “He’ll be fun to keep around, princess.”
“R-right,” Kouyou says, and even though the script says that Aletta is startled and stammers, Kunikida can’t help feeling like Kouyou’s rapid blinking is no act.
As one, Dazai and Chuuya turn to the front and look at Kunikida.
“Was that good?” Dazai asks.
“Was the improv okay?” Chuuya asks. “We can stick to the script a hundred percent if you’d prefer that.”
Kunikida stares at them.
“Do you want us to do another scene?” Dazai asks. “Chuuya and I learned stage combat for another play when we were younger. We can do the ambush scene, though I suppose we’ll need to practice with the rest of the cast first. . .”
“We can do the scene in Cyra when Corvus meets Piper?” Chuuya suggests. “Or the one where Atella takes Sylvester to meet Sage? Those will help in figuring out stage markers too, since there’s more people on stage.”
Kunikida continues to stare. This is nothing like the past week. These are two completely different people.
Dazai takes Kouyou’s script and pages through it for a moment before showing Chuuya one of the pages.
“You want to do a trial run of the big argument? I don’t know my lines for that scene yet.”
It suddenly strikes Kunikida that neither of them have their scripts on them. They did the scene, albeit with their little improv at the beginning, word for word without a script or prompting from anyone who did have a script.
“I told you,” Akutagawa whispers from the seat next to Kunikida. “They’re good at this.”
“Chuuya,” Dazai sings, squeezing himself into the booth and shoving Kouyou towards the window. “Run my lines with me!”
“Absolutely not.”
“But, Chuuya! You know I practice better if I run through my lines with the right cast members!”
“Practice your other scenes, then. I’m busy.”
Dazai huffs. “Chuuya’s no fun. I’m going to go through my lines with Atsushi, then.”
Chuuya makes a ‘shoo’ motion with both hands. Huffing, Dazai gets up and leaves.
“I’m surprised you still act so well with him,” Kouyou says after a moment.
Chuuya looks up from his assignment. “Well, it’s Dazai. He’s annoying and I hate his guts, but he’s the best actor I’ve ever worked with. It’s easy to get into character with him.”
“Why don’t you practice with him, then? You have the most scenes together.”
“Why aren’t you practicing your lines with Ellis?”
“Okay, that’s not fair. I left her and then I ghosted her. It’s different.”
Chuuya raises his eyebrows.
“It’s awkward, okay? I was never her friend nor did we ever date. It’s different. You and Dazai . . . you at least have common ground outside of the play.”
“You can get over awkwardness. You can’t get over wanting to kick someone’s head clean off their body.”
Kouyou rolls her eyes. “It amazes me that Corvus and Sylvester are supposed to run away together.”
“Shut up. Don’t you have assignments of your own?”
“Nope! Masters students have less classes than you undergrad kids.”
“So, you’re just going to sit here and annoy me, huh?”
“Yup!” Kouyou gives him a bright grin and steals one of his fries.
Chuuya sighs. “Fine. What’s the force of gravity again?”
“Nine point eight.” Kouyou peers at his notepad. “You wrote three-oh-four-three instead of three-four-three for the speed of sound in your previous question.”
“Ah, shit. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“Run away?” Dazai asks, looking behind him at the wings, where the Cyra palace is meant to be. “Could I do such a thing?”
Chuuya scowls. “You were the one who brought it up. Now, when I’m agreeing, you want to go back on it?”
“I . . . all my life, I’ve been raised with the intent to marry Princess Atella. I’ve learned every bit of information there is to know about Neoma and . . . and you said it yourself the day we met. Duty asks of us things which we’d rather not do. Are you really willing to leave the princess’ side?”
“Tel can take care of herself.”
“She can, but you once said that the only thing in life that gave you purpose was looking after her. Can you walk away from that?”
“You don’t want to marry her,” Chuuya says quietly, stepping up to Dazai.
Kunikida hears one of the extras sniffle in the seats.
“You know that. I know you know that.”
“I don’t,” Dazai agrees, looking away, “but it is my duty to my parents and to hers.”
“Your parents? Sylvester, they are marrying you off for political ties. The same with Tel’s parents.”
Kunikida was the one that told the cast to infer actions based on what’s in the script. He’s seen them all act and he knows that each of them has learned their characters to the core. Kunikida is the one who told them to improv on the script.
And yet, Kunikida is the one most surprised at the performance before him.
The script says that Corvus reaches for Sylvester’s hand in a silent plea to run away together. Chuuya reaches for Dazai’s face and the way Dazai closes his eyes and tilts into Chuuya’s hand seems almost natural.
“Sylvester,” Chuuya says, almost reverently, “don’t marry her.”
Kunikida knows that acting isn’t just about lines and big actions. He’s been directing plays for four years. He knows that the smallest signs of body language sometimes speaks volumes. He’s never seen a member of the theater group put so much into a rehearsal as he does now when Dazai shakes his head slightly and Chuuya’s shoulders sag.
Kunikida expects the audience to cry, and very few people have cried watching a production for this play. Everyone knows it has a happy ending.
“Water break!” someone calls and just like that, whatever tension Dazai and Chuuya created between their characters snap and they both follow the sound of chatter to grab a bottle each.
“Insane, right?” Yosano asks from beside Kunikida. “I went to high school with them. They’ve always been so good at it. By the time they were in their third year, it was almost a given that Dazai and Chuuya would share the center spotlight. It was like you couldn’t have one without the other. Or, I suppose you could, but then it would just be a school play. Nothing like the theater productions they were making everything turn into. The drama club actually had a betting pool on whether they were secretly dating or not, because no one couldn’t understand how you can look at someone with so much love and not actually feel any of it.”
“Were they?” Kunikida asks curiously.
Yosano shrugs. “I graduated before I found out and I didn’t see Chuuya again until last year but they acted like they didn’t know each other, so I figured they really did just not like each other at all.”
Kunikida flinches at the sound of a crash.
“That could’ve hit my head, shitty Dazai!”
Dazai giggles like he’s made a silly joke. “But it didn’t, did it?”
“Get back here!”
Yosano sighs. “They were always like that in high school, too. They’re perfect on stage but you just can’t put them in the same room and expect it not to blow up.”
“I’m going to get a painkiller and coffee.”
“Not together, I hope.”
Kunikida glares at her. Yosano raises her hands in defense.
The first dress rehearsal is always an issue. The cast always discovers something about the costume that’s wrong. Maybe it’s uncomfortable, or maybe it’s the wrong size, or maybe it hinders movement. Sometimes, when a play has knights, they have to remove the helmets so the audience will be able to hear their voices. Every cast member will always have at least one problem with their costumes.
Dazai and Chuuya wear their costumes like it’s their own clothes. They sail through every scene without a problem. When Kunikida asks them after the final scene if they have any issues with the costumes, Chuuya mentions that the prop sword is a little too long and he can’t balance it properly, and Dazai admits that the cloak he needs for one scene is a bit heavy.
Kunikida asks them why they didn’t pause to mention it immediately and stares at them in bewilderment when they glance at each other and shrug.
“We were in the middle of a scene,” Chuuya says.
“We’ve dealt with costume mishaps on the day of the play before. We know how to act around our costumes.”
Kunikida marvels at the two of them, reveling in the blissful peace before Dazai asks Chuuya if he needs to get the pants of his costume hemmed and Chuuya chases Dazai around, waving his prop sword like a claymore.
Kunikida wants to suspend them from the studio lights by their hair.
“Haruno said to thank you for the advice,” Kyoka says as she puts her apron on and offers to take over setting up the pastries with a gesture. “The drama club teacher says she’s doing an excellent job as Evangeline.”
“Oh, she’s very welcome,” Atsushi says with a smile. “I’m glad she’s doing well.”
Kyoka nods and gets to work arranging the pastries before the lunch rush arrives.
Atsushi leaves her to it and looks at Dazai, who seems uncharacteristically focused. Not that he’s focused on anything in the coffeeshop. He sits in his corner at the counter, but instead of lazily keeping an eye on Atsushi and Kyoka, he stares at one spot on the menu behind the counter with an almost unblinking gaze.
“Dazai?” Atsushi says hesitantly. “Is everything okay?”
Dazai gives him a cherry smile. “Just thinking about the play.”
“Are you sure? You look a little . . . lost.”
Dazai nods. “I’m running through my lines.”
“Without a script?” Atsushi asks, tilting his head.
Dazai taps his own head lightly. “It’s all in here. I’m just making sure I remember the whole play. It’s opening night tonight, after all.”
Atsushi sighs. “I’ve never done a three-night show before.”
“Well, you’ve never done more than a school play before.”
Atsushi grins. “That’s why I went for a minor role. I figured it would help me get used to what college theater is like. I’ll audition for something bigger next year.”
“Send me an invitation. I’d love to see you take on a lead role. You have the voice for it.”
“I saw one of Atsushi’s school plays,” Kyoka says. “He had one of the lead roles in Adelaide. He’s amazing on stage.”
“Your school did Adelaide?” Dazai asks.
“Mhm. Two years in a row, because it was so liked by the parents. I was only in for the second time, though. I did Paradox in my second year and The Ghost of Evangeline in my third.”
“Lead roles all around?”
Atsushi shakes his head. “I was the stupid boss in Paradox. Tanizaki got Emrys and I didn’t want to audition for Lorelei.”
“But you auditioned for Evangeline?”
“Gin bet me they wouldn’t cast me for Evangeline. I like winning.”
Dazai smiles. “Well, if the college group ever does The Ghost of Evangeline while you’re there, I’d love to see you in that role. You make Sage seem much bigger than she actually is.”
“You’re playing a girl again?” Kyoka asks, wrinkling her nose.
“Don’t look at me like that. I like Sage’s character.”
“You just don’t sound like a girl anymore,” Kyoka says with a shrug. “I suppose if you talk in a higher pitch, it could work.”
Atsushi rolls his eyes. “Just go back to your pastries. Sage has a cute wig.”
“Isn’t Sage’s wig red?”
“Yeah, and?”
“You wore a red wig for Paradox. You looked silly.”
“Okay. That’s it. I’m not listening to you anymore.”
“Knock knock,” Akutagawa calls as he enters the coffeeshop and Dazai snickers because that’s one of Piper’s lines.
“Oh, what a sweet voice,” Atsushi says, grinning at Dazai when he laughs softly. “I wonder to whom it could belong.”
“Do you not recognise this face?” Akutagawa asks as he walks up to the counter. “Are you perhaps a visitor to Cyra?”
“I am, but I would not recognise you either way, for I cannot see.”
“Oh. I know you. Neoma’s Princess Sage.”
“You’ve heard of me?”
“From my brother. Sylvester talks of you often.”
Atsushi curtseys, pulling at his apron like it’s a dress. “Then you must be Cyra’s Princess Piper.”
Kyoka chuckles at Atsushi’s antics.
“Would you care for a tour? Father says beautiful ladies must never be left alone.”
“Is that so? Perhaps you could direct me to a tavern. I’ve had a long journey and I think I need something to lift my spirits.”
“I see.”
“But I do not.”
Kyoka and Dazai laugh. Atsushi and Akutagawa take a bow.
“Thank you, thank you. We will accept monetary payment for our entertainment,” Atsushi says.
“Nice try,” Dazai says.
Atsushi shrugs. “Worth a shot.” He looks at Akutagawa. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please. Do you think I’ll get an automatic average grade if I just pass out in the middle of my test?”
“I think they actually set you up for a supplementary,” Dazai says. “Or is that just for exams. . .?”
Akutagawa takes a seat at the counter and drops his head on it. “Theater was easier in high school.”
“There, there,” Atsushi says, patting Akutagawa’s head as he places a cup next to him. “I’ll help you study later today. I’m coming over for a group project with Lucy and Gin anyway.”
“I adore you,” Akutagawa says as he lifts the cup and inhales the scent of coffee.
“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re talking to Atsushi or the coffee,” Kyoka says.
“The coffee, of course.”
“Watch it or I’ll step on your toes during tonight’s performance.”
“Sage has excellent spatial awareness despite her blindness.”
“Sage is also a little shit and Kunikida said we can improv.”
“True.” Akutagawa grins at Atsushi. “Kind of like you.”
Atsushi huffs. “Don’t act like you don’t like it. You think I’m very entertaining.”
“Of course, dear. My fair Sage compares to no one in my eyes.”
Atsushi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Pay for your coffee, asshole.”
If Atsushi notices Dazai watching with something of nostalgic fondness, he doesn’t say a word.
Kunikida stands in the wings, clutching his clipboard so he doesn’t end up biting his fingernails. He knows by now that for all their banter and whatever the hell they have going on, Dazai and Chuuya would never jeopardize the performance — they wouldn’t let their bickering get in the way of rehearsals, so there’s no way they would let it interfere when there’s an audience.
Still, he’s a little worried.
Dazai trips Chuuya up during their sparring scene and Chuuya shoots him a furious glare as he stumbles.
“Aw, is the little knight not so steady on his feet?” Dazai teases.
“Call me little again and I will shorten your height by the length of your calves.”
“Threatening royalty is frowned upon.”
“I’m sure there are exceptions, your highness.”
Kunikida sighs when the audience laughs.
“Relax,” Yosano whispers, patting his shoulders. “They’re good at improv.”
Kunikida offers her his best attempt at a smile as she steps out for Ellis to have a talk with her best friend about his impending marriage to Aletta.
Chuuya walks off calmly, but once he gets past the curtain, he storms up to Kouyou and gives her a glare. “I’m going to bite his fucking ankles.”
“Sure. Help me with the necklace, please.”
Chuuya continues grumbling as he helps Kouyou with her costume
Kunikida hopes to survive all three nights.
On the second night, Chuuya trips Dazai up in the same scene.
“A prince who can’t even stand on his own two feet? You’re hardly worthy of our Aletta.”
Dazai shoots him a bored look. “A knight who plays dirty? My, they must be keeping a close eye on you, hm?”
“Stand up. I’m not done with you.”
“Oh? I didn’t realise you and the princess were competing for my attention.”
Kunikida knows that Chuuya’s twitching eye is not acting.
“I’m not interested in pursuing someone who can’t even keep up with me.” Chuuya raises his sword, going back to the script. “Again.”
There is something odd in the air on the third and final night of their performance. Kunikida can’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe it’s the fact that he caught Yosano and Kouyou making out when he arrived at the theater. He wasn’t aware they had a thing going on, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. Ellis and Atella are supposed to be in love anyway.
Kunikida has seen this play about a hundred times by now. They’ve done numerous rehearsals, both in and out of costume. They put on mock shows for the theater members participating in The Ghost of Evangeline as test runs for the actual performance. They’ve already performed the play twice. However, for some reason, Kunikida feels like he’s watching the play for the first time.
There is just something about it that feels new.
Dazai and Chuuya stick to the script for the most part and any improv they feel like doing remains verbal. Most of it is just when their cast mates forget a line or say the wrong one, mostly just a way to keep the show running. They don’t mess with each other on stage.
“Sylvester,” Chuuya pleads, “don’t marry her.”
“And what will you have me say when we return to Neoma?” Dazai asks, wrapping his fingers around Chuuya’s wrist.
Kunikida peeks at the audience. At least five people are crying. Good. It means the cast is getting the emotions right.
“Don’t return to Neoma.”
“I cannot just run away with you.”
“Why? Don’t you love me?”
“I do! I do, but. . .”
“But duty triumphs over me,” Chuuya says, drawing his hand back and stepping away. “You would rather spend your life in a loveless marriage because it’s what’s expected of you.”
“That is not fair. You would die for Neoma!”
“I would die for Atella! It’s different!”
“Woah,” Kouyou whispers from beside Kunikida. She has some time before she goes out again, and Kunikida doesn’t mind the company.
“What?” he asks.
“This is different,” she says. “I feel like they’re arguing about something else.”
“Why won’t you choose me?” Chuuya asks. It’s Corvus’ line. It’s in the script. It’s what he’s supposed to say, but it doesn’t feel like he’s acting right now. “Why can’t you choose yourself? Why is it always other people’s happiness over your own?”
“Ch- Corvus, it is not as simple as you want it to be.”
“Do my ears deceive me?” Yosano asks with an amused grin, popping her head between Kouyou and Kunikida’s. “You both heard that, right?”
“Then make it simple. Atella does not want to marry you any more than you want to marry her. If you’re so concerned about other people, go back to Cyra. Atella doesn’t want you. She wants Ellis. You read her letters with me. You know it’s true.”
“I —”
“If you care at all for her, don’t you set another foot in Neoma ever again.”
Usually, when Chuuya walks off, he pauses by Kunikida and waits for a nod that he did a good job before wandering further backstage in search of a snack or just to get half his costume off.
Today, he walks right past Kunikida and disappears.
“Is he okay?” Yosano asks, watching Chuuya leave.
“I’ll go talk to him,” Kouyou says. “I have a few minutes while they rearrange the set.”
Kunikida watches the lights dim over Dazai and just barely makes out him leaving off the other side. He looks at Yosano.
“I’ll be right back,” she says.
When Kouyou and Yosano return, they both give him a grin and thumbs up before taking their places.
As the lights brighten up the set, Kouyou sighs and rests her head on Yosano’s shoulder, walking through the ‘garden’ together. “Do you not miss Cyra?”
“I’ve always liked the ocean more than the mountains,” Yosano says.
“It’s been four years since you last saw Sylvester.”
Yosano shrugs. “I receive letters from him. Besides, he says he will visit for our wedding.”
“He will?” Kouyou asks, stopping to stare at Yosano. “Does Corvus know?”
“Ha! You think I’d tell him that? You know how he hates Sylvester for choosing not to return. Not that I mind. If he had returned, you’d already be married to him.”
“I still can’t understand it. Why wouldn’t he tell me himself that he doesn’t want to marry me either? I wouldn’t have banished him for that.”
“Maybe he feels guilty, as if he cannot face your father. We know Sylvester chose to stay behind for our sakes, but your father thinks I’m some kind of second option. Better that way, though.” Yosano gives Kouyou a grin. “I’ll bet he’d be a lot more upset about this if he knew we sent Sylvester letters telling him to call it off like he wanted to all along. He’d accuse me of manipulating him.”
“You did manipulate him, though.”
“Semantics, my love. Now, I promised your cousin I would take her riding today and you have a fitting to get to. Shall we head back inside?”
They two of them continue their walk and disappear off stage.
Chuuya doesn’t look at Kunikida as he passes by him for his next scene. He bows before Kouyou and offers her a hand. “Would the bride care to dance with an old friend?”
Kouyou laughs softly. “I would, but I believe I have a guest waiting.”
Chuuya turns around and Kunikida is still amazed by how genuine his startled face is when he finds Dazai.
Dazai offers Kouyou a bow and kisses her hand.
“Oh, none of that,” Kouyou says, wrapping her arms around Dazai. “Thank you, Sylvester.”
Chuuya glares at Dazai while Yosano gives Dazai a hug of her own and thanks him as well. Then the two of them leave together, talking about sneaking off to the kitchen to find any remaining jam tarts.
“I was invited to the wedding,” Dazai says the moment they are alone on stage.
“I know. I’m surprised you came at all. I thought you’d be too afraid to set foot in Neoma.”
“I didn’t come to Neoma just for the wedding.”
“Oh?”
“I have spent the last four years wondering what I would do if I ever saw you again, and now that I have. . .”
“And now that you have?”
Kunikida watches carefully. So far, Dazai and Chuuya have not messed with a single scene and he’ll kill them both if they do something weird in the final scene on the last night of the performance.
“And now that I have, I find myself wondering if you have moved on.”
Chuuya scoffs. “Four years is a long time, Sylvester.”
“It is. More than enough time to learn something I should have known before we last saw each other.”
“What is that?”
“Duty asks of us things which we’d rather not do, but I don’t care for duty if it means I cannot have you by my side. If your offer still stands, all these years later, I would like to take you up on it.”
“You’re still as boneheaded stupid as you were the day I met you.”
“I’m sorry?”
“If the offer still stands,” Chuuya repeats mockingly. “You are the only person I would ever consider leaving Neoma for.”
Dazai exhales, plastering relief on his face.
This is it, Kunikida thinks. Dazai is going to make a stupid joke here and Chuuya will have to cover for him. But Dazai delivers the lines from the script, with no funny business.
“And you are the only person I would abandon my duties for. My kingdom for your love. So, Corvus, would you run away with me?”
Chuuya looks at his hand, then at his face. After a moment, he takes Dazai’s hand.
The script says that Corvus pulls Sylvester into a hug, that they stay there until the light dims and the curtains close. Dazai and Chuuya did it right during rehearsals. They did it right for the last two performances.
But tonight, Chuuya grabs Dazai’s hand and tugs him towards the wings. Dazai laughs and follows after him.
Kunikida steps out of the way when it’s clear they have no plans to stop once they’re off stage and watches them continue on their way. The stage is lit and empty. From the other side, he sees Atsushi angrily hand something to a smug Akutagawa.
There was a bet, Kunikida realises.
“C-curtains!” Kunikida hisses. The set dims and the curtains close. The applause is deafening.
Kunikida looks around for any sign of Dazai and Chuuya and when he can’t spot them, he sends a stagehand to search for them backstage.
When the drapes open again for the curtain call, the play’s lead actors are nowhere to be found.
Well, Kunikida supposes, at least they didn’t ruin the play.
“I cannot believe it took an entire play for you to wake the fuck up,” Chuuya snaps half-heartedly.
“Chuuya,” Dazai whines, tugging on Chuuya’s costume. “Kiss me more.”
“Not until you admit you’ve been the biggest idiot on the entire planet for four fucking years. And that I always know better than you.”
Dazai pouts. “You didn’t come to me either.”
“Yeah, because after you said you had a stupid rule about not dating your co-actors, you disappeared off the face of the earth and pretended you didn’t know me when you saw me on campus.”
“I thought Chuuya was mad at me.”
“I’m always mad at you,” Chuuya says automatically. “Mostly because you have entire conversations about me and my thoughts in your head and assume you got to the right conclusion when you are almost always wrong.”
“All right, fine. I’m an idiot and you always know better. Happy?”
“Insanely so.”
Dazai’s happy little sigh when Chuuya kisses him again makes making him wait worth it.
“Say, Chuuya,” Dazai murmurs, “would you run away with me?”
“You’re cute, but I have a thermodynamics test on Monday and an essay on the theory of quantum physics due Thursday, so I’ll have to take a rain check.”
“After graduation, then?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Dazai kisses Chuuya again. “Kunikida’s going to kill us for missing the curtain call.”
“You mean he’s going to kill you. I’m not taking any blame for this.”
“Chuuya! That is so mean!”
“You deserve it.”
“Fine. But kiss me again. I missed you.”
“Say it again first.”
“I missed you?”
“No, the other thing.”
Dazai tilts his head slightly. “I love you?”
Chuuya gives him a flat expression.
“Ah. I’m an idiot and Chuuya always knows better.”
“Good boy.”
Kunikida bangs his fist on the storage room door. “I know you assholes are in there! Come out here so I can beat you both until you have to get a sick note for your lectures for the next two weeks!”
He hears muffled laughter from inside.
“I am never doing a play with you again!” Kunikida shouts before stalking off.
He can still hear Dazai and Chuuya laughing.