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That's why I love you so much.
Chuuya could not shake the strange feeling growing in his heart. It had started subtly, with a fleeting glance, a question held in Dazai's eyes. Dazai. The name alone was enough to cause annoyance, a prickle of irritation. He was a thorn in Chuuya's side, a constant source of frustration. But now— something felt different.
He thought back to their first meeting, the memory vivid in his mind. The air in the examination hall had crackled with tension, the silence broken only by the scratching of pens and the rustling of paper. But when the results were posted, the tension erupted into a full-blown argument between him and Dazai in front of the crowded blackboard.
Sarcasm dripped from their words, each trying to outdo the other with cutting remarks. "Hey, you over there! The short one with the ugly hair," Dazai had sneered, his voice cutting through the murmur of the other students.
Chuuya had bristled, his temper flaring instantly. "I don't care," he retorted, his voice rising. "You could use that mop on your head to clean the schoolyard. It'd be more efficient than a regular mop."
Dazai's taunts were relentless, each one a carefully aimed barb. He mocked Chuuya's upbringing, calling him a spoiled rich kid incapable of making real connections. He then zeroed in on Chuuya's appearance, mocking his dyed hair, contact lenses, and punk kid style, claiming it was all a desperate cry for attention.
Chuuya, his face burning, retaliated, but Dazai's calculated cruelty had already struck its mark. Their escalating argument only ended when a teacher intervened, their voice sharp and disapproving, both flushed and furious
From that moment on, their relationship was a battlefield of words, a constant clash of personalities. They argued relentlessly, trading insults like blows. But beneath the animosity, Chuuya felt a flicker of something else.
Dazai's gaze, sometimes intense and searching, made him curious. His sardonic smile and air of indifference, usually so irritating, now held a strange allure.
And lately, that flicker had intensified, growing into a flame that threatened to consume him.
It started during their chemistry group project. Being paired with Dazai, the enigmatic 12th grader with his sharp wit and aloof demeanor, filled Chuuya with dread. At first, it was business as usual-Dazai's casual attitude, sarcastic comments, ridiculous jokes, and frequent disregard for her assignments grated on Chuuya's nerves.
But as they worked together, Chuuya began to see another side of Dazai. Behind the annoying facade, he discovered a brilliant mind, a wealth of knowledge, and an ability to analyze situations with surprising depth.
Whenever they discussed a concept, Chuuya found himself captivated by Dazai's unique perspective, his insights sparking new ideas in Chuuya's own mind.
He found himself watching Dazai more closely, watching his every move. Dazai's intelligence, his knowledge, even his annoyingly nonchalant attitude... it all drew Chuuya in. It was as if a switch had flipped in his brain, turning his annoyance into something more.
His heart pounded in his chest whenever Dazai was around. His mind would race, replaying their interactions, dissecting every word, every gesture. He'd find himself smiling unconsciously, lost in thought, only to blush in embarrassment when someone caught him.
‘It was absurd,’ he thought, utterly ridiculous.
Dazai was the last person he should be attracted to.
But the more he tried to deny his feelings, the stronger they grew, taking root deep inside him. He was caught in a whirlwind of emotions, a confusing mix of attraction, frustration, and self-doubt. He needed answers, and he needed them soon, before these feelings overwhelmed him completely.
"What's happening to me?" he muttered to himself, his face flushed. "Why do I feel this way about him? He's so annoying, so arrogant. But... there's something about him, something that attracts me. Should I... should I be the one to confess first?"
The thought startled him. "No, that's crazy. He should be the one to confess first!" he corrected himself, his voice barely above a whisper.
Over the past few months, Dazai and Chuuya had become incredibly close. What had begun as a reluctant truce had blossomed into a true friendship.
They spent almost every free moment together, their laughter echoing through the school corridors, their conversations spilling over into late-night phone calls. They shared everything from silly jokes and whispered secrets to dreams for the future and fears they'd never dared voice before. It all started with Chuuya's habit of bringing extra lunch.
Every day, he'd invite Dazai to join him on the roof of the school, their usual spot. At first, Dazai had refused, his pride and his instinct to play it cool preventing him from accepting easily. But Chuuya was persistent, and eventually, Dazai found himself looking forward to their lunchtime escapes.
On the roof, with the city a concrete canvas below, they talked for hours. They shared stories about their families, their frustrations with school, and their hopes and dreams for the future. They laughed until their sides hurt, and they confided in each other, revealing vulnerabilities they'd kept hidden from everyone else.
Slowly, the walls they had built around themselves began to crumble. The animosity that had defined their early interactions faded, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie. They were no longer rivals, but allies, their personalities complementing each other in unexpected ways.
But lately, something had changed. Chuuya had become distant, his easy smile replaced by a strained expression. He made excuses to avoid Dazai, his gaze slipping away whenever their eyes met. Dazai couldn't ignore the change. It gnawed at him, a constant worry tickling at the back of his mind. One afternoon after school, he finally cornered Chuuya at his locker.
"Hey," Dazai said, his voice soft, "what's going on with you? You've been acting weird lately." Is he really going to brush me off again? he wondered.
Chuuya hesitated, his eyes darting nervously around the hallway before settling on the floor. "Nothing is wrong," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Don't lie to me," Dazai replied, his voice firm but tinged with concern. "I can tell that something is troubling you. Please, just talk to me."
Chuuya sighed, the weight of his unspoken feelings pressing down on him. He knew he couldn't keep up the pretense any longer, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. He was afraid—afraid of rejection, afraid of ruining their friendship, afraid of what Dazai might think.
"Just tell me what's wrong," Dazai pleaded, his voice softening. "I'm here for you, you know that, right?"
Chuuya's suppressed emotions suddenly erupted. "I don't need your pity!" he snapped, his voice sharp and defensive. "I'm fine, okay? Just... busy."
Dazai was taken aback by Chuuya's outburst. He'd rarely seen Chuuya lose his temper, except for that first explosive encounter during the exam. What is going on with him?
"Busy?" Dazai asked, his voice carefully neutral. "Busy with what? Schoolwork? Clubs? Or maybe... you're just busy avoiding me?"
Chuuya's face flushed, a wave of heat creeping up his neck. "That's not true!" he retorted. "I'm not avoiding you. I just... need some space."
"Space?" Dazai echoed, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Is that really what you want? Because it feels like you're pushing me away." Is this how it ends?
The easy banter that had once characterized their conversations was gone, replaced by a tense undercurrent. Dazai, at first determined to understand what had gone wrong, felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. He realized that whatever was going on between them would not be easily resolved.
"Something feels different between us," Dazai said, his voice soft but serious. "I'm not sure what it is, but... it's like there's a wall between us now."
Chuuya tried to smile, but it faltered, his lips trembling slightly. He avoided Dazai's gaze, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond Dazai's shoulder. "I told you there was nothing wrong," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
"Are you... are you trying to end our friendship?" Dazai asked, the question hanging heavy in the air. He took a step toward Chuuya, his hand outstretched as if to offer comfort, but he hesitated, unsure how Chuuya would react.
Chuuya jumped and instinctively took a step back. "No, don't..." he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He wrapped his arms around himself, as if to shield himself from Dazai's intense gaze.
Dazai stopped, realizing that he had overstepped. He took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. "I understand if this is difficult," he said softly, extending his hand again, this time in a more open gesture. "But please don't shut me out."
Chuuya looked at Dazai's hand, his own trembling slightly. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly reached out and took it. Dazai's hand was warm and reassuring, his fingers gently intertwining with Chuuya's. "I... I don't know what to say," Chuuya stammered, his voice thick with emotion.
A small smile touched Dazai's lips. "It's okay," he said, his voice soothing. He raised his other hand, his fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from Chuuya's forehead. "We have time."
He gently pulled Chuuya closer, his arms wrapping around him in a comforting embrace. Chuuya leaned into the embrace, his eyes fluttering closed as he sought solace in Dazai's warmth.
"So, can you tell me what's wrong?" Dazai asked, his voice a soft murmur against Chuuya's hair. "Did I do something to upset you? Please don't avoid me anymore."
Chuuya's eyes snapped open. He drew back slightly, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the words. He knew that Dazai deserved honesty, but the truth seemed impossible to utter.
Instead, he broke free of Dazai's grip and turned away, his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway. He left Dazai standing there, his heart aching with a confusing mix of worry and longing. Dazai watched him go, a sense of unease settling in his stomach. What now? he thought.
Chuuya's breath hitched in his chest, his heart pounding like a drum. He scanned the faces in the crowd, searching for Dazai in the throng of students. When he finally spotted him, a wave of apprehension washed over him.
Dazai stood amidst a group of friends, his laughter ringing out, his posture relaxed and confident. The spotlights overhead cast a warm glow on his brown hair, and his signature smile—the one that usually made Chuuya's heart flutter—now twisted his stomach into knots.
Chuuya bit his lip, his fear growing. He took a tentative step forward, then another, each movement requiring a conscious effort.
"Dazai," he called, his voice barely a whisper above the music and chatter.
Dazai turned, his eyebrows raised in surprise. His lips curved into that familiar smile, but it no longer held the same warmth, the same reassurance. Instead, it was distant, almost mocking.
"Yes, Chuuya?" Dazai replied, his voice lacking its usual playful tone.
Chuuya swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "Can we talk? Just for a moment?" he asked, his gaze fixed on Dazai's.
Dazai nodded, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. He gestured to a quieter corner of the room, away from the pulsating music and chattering crowd.
They stood in the dim light, the faint strains of music providing an uneasy backdrop to their encounter. Chuuya's heart pounded against his ribs, threatening to burst.
"Well," he began, his voice barely audible, "I... I don't know where to start, but..."
Dazai's expression changed, a seriousness settling over his features. "Okay, what is it?" he asked, his voice soft but tinged with concern.
Chuuya hesitated, his concern growing. "I... I just wanted to say that I..." he stammered, his cheeks flushed. Never before had he felt so vulnerable, so exposed.
Dazai watched him intently, his mind racing. Could this be the moment he'd been waiting for? The confession he'd both hoped for and feared?
He'd expected it eventually, but not now, not so suddenly. He felt a wave of uncertainty crashed over him, not knowing how to react. "Chuuya," he said softly, his voice a low rumble, "calm down. Just tell me what's on your mind."
Chuuya clung to Dazai's words, a flicker of hope igniting within him. He longed for a positive answer, but Dazai's thoughts remained a mystery.
"I know this is sudden," Chuuya continued, his voice trembling slightly, "but I can't keep it to myself anymore."
Dazai nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. "What are you keeping from me?" he asked, his voice light, almost teasing. "Are you still upset about the time I was late returning your baseball jersey?"
Chuuya's heart sank. He forced a smile, trying to hide his disappointment. "No, it's not that," he replied, his voice strained. "It's... well, forget it."
Weeks passed, and Dazai continued to prod, his persistence wearing down Chuuya's resolve. Chuuya resorted to making excuses, changing the subject, even avoiding Dazai altogether. He couldn't shake the feeling that Dazai was playing with him, deliberately prolonging his agony.
Dazai's smile, once a source of comfort, now felt like a cruel mockery. Surely, Dazai must have noticed his attempts to express his feelings. Did Dazai really feel nothing for him? Had he lost interest? Was there someone else occupying his thoughts?
Chuuya was caught in a cycle of hope and despair, spending his nights agonizing over imaginary scenarios. He wanted to believe that Dazai returned his feelings, but Dazai's actions only fueled his doubts.
As time passed, Chuuya's hope faded. He realized that Dazai would never give a clear answer, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty. He grew tired of waiting, tired of the emotional tug-of-war.
With a heavy heart, he decided to move on. He would concentrate on his studies, his friends, his future. He would bury his feelings for Dazai and try to forget the pain he'd caused. It wouldn't be easy, but it was the only way to move forward.
"I have to let go," he whispered to himself, his voice thick with emotion. "I have to focus on myself. Dazai and his games... I'll forget him. I'll forget the pain."
He threw himself into his studies, spent more time with his friends, and tried to fill the void left by Dazai's absence. But every time he thought he was making progress, something would trigger a memory, a pang of longing.
Then one day, rumors about Dazai began to circulate around the school. Whispers of a girl named Sasaki Nobuko, beautiful and intelligent, who had apparently asked Dazai out. Nobuko was admired by many, including Dazai's own classmate, Doppo Kunikida.
The news hit Chuuya like a punch in the gut. Jealousy and anger surged through him. How could Dazai move on so easily, finding comfort in the arms of another? After all the time they'd spent together, after all the emotions they'd shared, how could Dazai just forget?
"Damn," he murmured, his voice laced with bitterness. "I thought I was over him, but he keeps pulling me back in. Why can't I just let go?"
That morning, Chuuya marched to Dazai's locker, his hands clenched into fists, his jaw set with determination. Each step echoed in the quiet hallway, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. He stopped in front of Dazai, his gaze intense.
"Hey!" he barked, his voice tight with barely suppressed emotion. "Listen, Dazai." He leaned closer, his face inches from Dazai's, making sure his words wouldn't be lost or ignored.
Dazai, momentarily surprised by Chuuya's intensity, quickly regained his composure. A mischievous smile played on his lips as he leaned against the cabinet, his arms casually crossed.
"What is it, Chuuya?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement. "Why is your face so red?"
Chuuya brushed off the teasing, his focus unflinching. "I'm serious, Dazai," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I... I love you." He closed his eyes, unable to bear the scrutiny of Dazai's gaze, unable to gauge his reaction.
A smile escaped Dazai's lips. He couldn't help but find Chuuya's flustered appearance endearing. The usually confident and boisterous Chuuya now stood before him, vulnerable and exposed.
Chuuya's cheeks burned with embarrassment. Dazai's laughter felt like a slap in the face, a dismissal of his heartfelt confession. Frustration surged through him and he lightly swatted Dazai's forehead.
"What's so funny, you idiot?" he grumbled, his voice thick with indignation. "I'm trying to tell you how I feel!"
A wave of emotions—anger, hurt, betrayal—washed over Chuuya. He slammed his fist against the locker beside him, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You..." he stuttered, struggling to articulate his feelings.
"Jealous, Chuuya?" Dazai teased, a calculating gleam in his eyes, a slight pause before continuing, "or perhaps... hurt?"
Chuuya's face turned crimson. "Don't play games with me, Dazai!" he roared, his voice echoing down the hall. "Not after I just poured my heart out to you!"
Dazai leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur. "Oh, I know," he purred, his breath ghosting across Chuuya's cheek. "And I find it quite amusing."
Chuuya's heart pounded. He couldn't decipher Dazai's intentions. Was he really indifferent to his confession? Or was this all part of an elaborate, cruel game?
Before Chuuya could answer, Dazai closed the distance between them, their faces inches apart.
"But," he whispered, his breath warm against Chuuya's lips, "the rumor... is not true."
Chuuya's eyes widened in disbelief. "WHAT?" he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper.
Dazai's lips curled into a genuine smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I just wanted to see your reaction," he admitted. "And wow, you totally fell for it."
Relief swept over Chuuya, followed by a wave of embarrassment. He'd been played, and he'd played right into Dazai's hands. But underneath the embarrassment, a thrill coursed through him. Dazai cared enough to test his feelings, to provoke such a passionate reaction.
But it was all so ridiculous, so childish.
"You're a real demon, Dazai," Chuuya murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Perhaps," Dazai admitted with a playful wink. "But thanks for the confession."
"You stupid piece of shit!" Chuuya retorted, a playful punch landing on Dazai's arm.
Dazai caught Chuuya's hand, his touch sending a shiver down Chuuya's spine. He pulled Chuuya closer, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "You're so cute when you're nervous," he said, his fingers gently ruffling Chuuya's hair. "Don't be angry. It's why I love you so much."
Chuuya's eyes widened and tears welled up. "Huh?" he stammered, his voice filled with disbelief and hope. "Re-really?"
"Of course," Dazai replied, his smile radiating genuine happiness. "But next time," he added with a playful nudge, "don't be so aggressive, okay? I might get the wrong idea."
Chuuya rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. "I was just nervous, damn it!" he retorted.
Dazai chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Yes, I know. But I like it when you're nervous."
"So you deliberately stalled yesterday just to make me angry?" Chuuya accused, his voice laced with playful indignation.
"I just wanted to see how far you'd go to win my heart," Dazai replied with a mischievous grin.
"Shut up, you ugly bastard," Chuuya hissed, his cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and affection.
"Oh yeah?" Dazai challenged with a raised eyebrow. "If I remember correctly, someone once said I was handsome and smelled good. You said that, by the way."
Chuuya didn't answer. He just rolled his eyes, his cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. Dazai chuckled, finding Chuuya's nervous reaction endlessly amusing. Chuuya wished the ground would swallow him whole, his embarrassment so intense it was almost physically painful.
Lost in his humiliation, Chuuya pushed his locker harder than he had intended. A loud groan echoed through the hallway as the metal door swung open, its hinges bending at an unnatural angle. Silence fell, broken only by the frantic beating of their hearts. They slowly turned toward the mangled locker, their eyes widening in disbelief. Chuuya felt his stomach sink.
"Oh my God, Chuuya!" Dazai exclaimed, his voice a mixture of feigned panic and genuine amusement. "You managed to turn a simple confession of love into a full-blown disaster. Truly impressive."
Chuuya's face paled. He stared at the wrecked locker, a wave of guilt washing over him. "I... I didn't..." he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to break it!"
"Well, it must have been broken for a while," Chuuya offered, his voice tinged with panic. "Rusty hinges, maybe? Or maybe it was just old and brittle."
They stood frozen, exchanging wide-eyed glances. The damaged cabinet loomed between them, a silent testament to their chaotic exchange.
Dazai finally broke the silence, a reassuring smile spreading across his face. "Don't worry," he said, his voice soft. "We'll think of something."
Chuuya's heart fluttered at Dazai's comforting smile. He felt a surge of gratitude for Dazai's understanding and his ability to ease the tension with humor. He nodded, though a knot of anxiety still lingered in his stomach. He felt responsible for getting Dazai into this mess.
They spent the rest of their break huddled near the locker, surveying the damage and brainstorming solutions. The incident, though alarming at first, brought them closer together. They worked seamlessly together, their movements in sync as they cleaned up the locker's scattered contents and attempted to straighten its bent hinges.
Despite the looming threat of disciplinary action, a sense of lightheartedness settled over them. They joked and teased each other, their laughter echoing down the hallway, easing the tension.
"So," Dazai began, leaning against the wall with a thoughtful expression on his face, "how exactly are we going to explain this to the teacher?"
"I have an idea!" Chuuya declared, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "We'll say there was a localized earthquake, just around the locker!"
Dazai burst out laughing. "An earthquake? Inside the school? Do you think the teacher will buy that?"
"Okay, then how about a mischievous ghost with a grudge against lockers?" Chuuya offered, his face glowing with enthusiasm.
"A ghost? In broad daylight? Seriously, Chuuya?" Dazai shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.
"Fine, have it your way!" Chuuya gave him a playful look. "But we have to take responsibility for this."
"Of course," Dazai said, his eyes locking with Chuuya's as he reached out and took Chuuya's hand. "We'll face it together. But if we get caught, don't mention my name, okay?"
"You're always joking!" Chuuya shouted and slapped Dazai's arm playfully. "Where is your sense of responsibility as my boyfriend?"
Dazai blinked, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Oh," he said, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes held a spark of seriousness, "so we're dating now?"
Chuuya blushed, a shy smile gracing his lips. "Whatever," he muttered and turned towards the door. "Let's just go to the teacher's office and get this over with."
They walked side by side, a mixture of fear and relief swirling within them. But beneath the anxiety, a sense of happiness blossomed. They would face this challenge together, as a team.
"You're both in your third year, about to graduate," the teacher said, his voice tinged with disappointment. "And you're still damaging school property? I expected more maturity from you."
Chuuya and Dazai exchanged sheepish glances, their cheeks flushing with embarrassment. They nodded slowly, admitting their mistake.
"You will both clean the entire teachers' room," the teacher continued, his voice stern, "and you will also have to raise money to repair the locker. You have one week to complete this task."
"Yes, sir," they replied in unison, their voices barely above a whisper.
As they left the teacher's office, Chuuya gave Dazai a playful glare. "See? This is all your fault," he hissed. "If you hadn't distracted me with your stupid jokes, I wouldn't have..."
"Wouldn't have confessed your undying love to me?" Dazai finished, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Wouldn't you have unleashed your superhuman strength on that poor, defenseless locker?"
Chuuya rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Shut up," he muttered, playfully shoving Dazai. "We need to figure out how to raise money to fix this thing."
Dazai's eyes lit up. "I've got an idea!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "We're going to have a 'Chuuya's Locker of Love' fundraiser. We'll set up a kissing booth, and for a small donation, students can-"
"Absolutely not!" Chuuya interrupted, his face turning crimson. "No kissing booth. No way."
Dazai pouted dramatically. "But it would be so much fun! And think of all the money we could make. We could even charge extra for a Chuuya Special—”
"Don't even finish that sentence," Chuuya warned, his voice laced with mock threat. "No kissing booth. End of discussion."
Dazai sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. No kissing booth. But we could still have a bake sale. I'm sure your culinary skills are far superior to your locker-smashing skills."
Chuuya scoffed. "Oh, now you insult my cooking? I'll let you know that my soufflé is legendary."
"Legendary for its ability to cause structural damage?" Dazai teased, raising an eyebrow.
Chuuya burst out laughing, unable to maintain his mock anger. "Okay," he conceded. "A bake sale it is. But you're helping too, Mr. I-Can't-Even-Boil-Water.'"
Dazai feigned offense. "I want you to know that I can make a mean cup of instant ramen."
"Wow, impressive," Chuuya deadpanned. "You really are a culinary genius."
They continued their banter as they walked down the hallway, their laughter echoing throughout the school.