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red shift
—he’s light years away.
.
“By all means, stay in that cozy coffin of yours,” Dazai told him, the day before he disappeared. We’re all trapped in our coffins, Dazai says. Trapped and trapped and curled around, resigned never to get free.
Dazai is pessimistic, Chuuya thinks and in his mind’s eye, he could see Dazai shaking his head. “Not pessimistic, pragmatic.”
And it’s just like Dazai to say something like this with a smile. He says his cruelest lines smiling, anyways. Nothing good comes out of straightforward kindness when it’s from Dazai. These are all things Chuuya knows, but doesn’t fully believe.
Because Dazai has always been sort of a dick, that asshole friend that’s in your life– nevermind the fact, that they were all asshole friends. Dazai is self-deprecating, bloody soaked and pressed in his own ideals. Maybe, we’re all victims to our own ideals, Chuuya thinks, but he’s not much of a philosopher. That stuff is better left to Kunikida of class 3-1.
Dazai Osamu left home, dropped out of school two months ago. Disappeared without much of a trace.
Chuuya Nakahara is going to get him back.
.
Chuuya hasn’t been in the same class as Dazai since middle school. You would think that would have affected their relationship, but it hasn’t.
They have rakugo club together after school, and Chuuya sits back and watches Dazai. Neither of them lean towards traditional garb, preferring to wear their western clothing. Some of the older teachers shake their head at this, and so do people like Kunikida– but Kunikida’s always been just as much of a rebel as them.
Dazai’s rakugo sounds happy, his voice is soft and expressive and his eyes are closed– never fully aware of the audience, just the story. “It’s like you’re being possessed,” Chuuya told him once, to which Dazai shrugged, “So what if I am?”
“You are really fucking creepy, you know that?” Chuuya replied then, watching as Dazai laughed. Because he was eerie. Kunikida just sees him as another character on stage, but all Chuuya can see is an actor simply viewing his own play, but not starring in it. Dazai’s always on the outside, narrating.
Was that always the case or did rakugo bring it out in him? Chuuya isn’t sure.
Dazai changed a lot when they were 1st year high school students, maybe because he got rid off that ball and chain around his foot, Akutagawa. He started smiling more, baring that obnoxious smile and that giddy, smug laugh of his to not just Chuuya anymore.
In all retrospect, Chuuya is really grateful to Kunikida. Kunikida doesn’t make sense, but he’s great babysitter for Dazai.
“How long are you gonna call me a babysitter?” Kunikida snaps at him.
Chuuya smiles, unphased by Kunikida’s punk expression, his smile widening as Kunikida throws him a look of disgust. “You’re like him when you smile? Ugh, it’s like having two of you around. I can’t believe Dazai says that we’re the similar ones, when it’s the two of you that are like that.”
“He said that?” Chuuya replied, scrunching up his nose. “Like he couldn’t compare me to Rokuzou? He’s like you’re better half.”
Kunikida huffs. “Well Dazai is your bett—fuck, I can’t even bring myself to say it. Disgusting.”
Chuuya laughs, “I’m glad we can agree on that. Anyways, later Kunikida. Tell me if you see him.”
But Kunikida doesn’t budge. “Are you okay?” He asks a minute later, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Chuuya adjusts the strap of his backpack. “Yeah, sure. I’m still kickin’ around,” Chuuya smiles and Kunikida takes a sharp intake of breath.
“What?”
“You looked so much like Dazai when you smile like that,” Kunikida admitted. “My heart can’t handle two Dazais. It’d drive me to an early grave, but that’s not what I want to talk about. Are you doing okay?”
“I already told you-- I am.” Chuuya snaps.
“It’s been two months, and we haven’t seen him anywhere. Haven’t even gotten a word.”
“He’s probably wasting his life away,” Chuuya mutters. “He’s like an outdoor cat, he’ll mooch off people, but he’ll always return home.”
Kunikida shrugs. “That’s true, but what is his home anyways?”
Me, Chuuya wants to say— he wants to blurt out and admit. And the thought, the thought shocks him because home hasn’t been home without Osamu Dazai knocking on his window every morning, or breaking into his home because he’s too lazy to go to his. Home hasn’t been home without Dazai stealing his bath bombs or crashing on his bed. Chuuya doesn’t know much about Dazai’s home life, despite being his oldest fri--companion. His caretaker is a man named Mori, he looks like a boring business man, Chuuya recalls. He had a dead look in his eyes, but Chuuya can name multiple people with that same expression.
“Chuuya? Chuuya? Oi, Nakahara! Snap out of it, idiot!”
Chuuya blinks. “What?”
Kunikida looks at him. “Are you doing okay? You’re not one to space off like that. It’s been two months, and sure he could be fine, but are you fine?”
“What makes you think I’m not fine? It’s a long awaited vacation away from him.” Chuuya’s smile is dyspeptic. Kunikida gave him one last long look, and shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Well, whatever. If you need me, send me a text or a call.”
Chuuya waits till Kunikida is far enough down the hall and yells, “I’m telling Rokuzou that you tried to parent me! Delinquent my ass!”
“SH-SHU-SHUT UP BRAT!”
.
It’s only a few days later when Chuuya sees Dazai out on the streets. It feels like he’s seen a ghost. Chuuya looks back and see’s a familiar tuft of hair. Dazai does not. It’s a big city, Chuuya tries to reason. It could be anyone.
Dazai would look back, at least that’s what Chuuya would like to think. Chuya stops dead in his tracks and goes back looking for him— he doesn’t find him. It shouldn’t frazzle him too much, maybe whatever Kunikida said is just getting to his head, making him overreact. Whatever. There’s no way that Dazai would just ignore him like that.
The thought pisses Chuuya off more than he thought it ever would. He misses the days when he thought a life without Dazai would be relaxing. Somehow it feels a bit hard to breathe sometimes— it’s not like living without a limb or anything, but there is this hollowness to him now that wasn’t there before.
Like Chuuya knows that he can be a shallow motherfucker, but he’s never been— never been empty before.
So Chuuya looks for Dazai again, and again, and again.
He’s seen multiple glimpses of him, so many maybes and so others who shared the guy’s unfortunate hairstyle. Until one day, he actually found him. Strolling through town, on the busy street and Chuuya’s hand goes out to grab his wrist.
“Ah, it’s you.” Dazai says, with an exasperated voice and a bored look on his face. He’s acting a bit, Chuuya thinks, acting in that overly exaggerated way of his. Chuuya didn’t think he’d miss seeing it around, a part of him does. And Chuuya is tired, tired and somewhat bleary eyed because Dazai hasn’t been around for two months, and this past week and a half has just been seeing a phantom menace plague the streets, not even having the decency to come up to him.
Chuuya feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind.
“You’re like a ghost,” Chuuya snaps, gazing at Dazai. “Truly a giant waste of space,” he snorts, “full of hot air, I swear, and one of these days you are going to combust.” Dazai’s eyes sharpen a bit, and Chuuya swallows at the gleam in his eyes. “I’m not the one who should be worried about combustion, Chuuya-kun. You’ve always been the hot-headed one, remember?”
“Well whose fault is that? Idiot.” Chuuya, grabs Dazai’s wrist tugging it and eyes the bandages peaking out of his sleeve. “Taking your bandage aesthetic to a whole new level, aren’t you?” Chuuya rolls his eyes, not registering whatever comment Dazai had made on his hat obsession.
“Come on, you idiot. You owe me an explanation for the past two months.”
Dazai sighs dramatically, “If I must.”
“I can’t believe everyone calls me the dramatic one out of the two of us. Have they even met you?”
.
“Is everyone doing okay?” Dazai asks. “Everyone at school, I mean?”
They are sitting on a bench at the park nearby. Now that Chuuya has a chance to look at Dazai, really look at him. He’s fine, the same as ever. His hair is a bit longer though, more wavier than usual. He looks healthy, he looks normal, just like Chuuya knew he would be. He’s not wearing black anymore. Dazai is colorful, dressed in more earthy tones. He seems approachable, Chuuya thinks. Approachable, but still so far away.
Chuuya nods. “Kunikida’s hair looks as stupid as ever, now just with more quality hair care products thanks to Rokuzou’s great online sale shopping. He’s landed me some good stuff too,” Chuuya grins. “Kunikida still can’t pull off a pompadour for shit, though. What a lame old-fashioned wannabe delinquent,” Chuuya snorts. “And well, Atsushi— he’s fine. He and Akutagawa both sulk at your disappearance. Akutagawa is more snappy now, too. It’s annoying. He keeps trying to pick fights with Atsushi, thinking that he knows where you are. Sometimes he sits outside the club room window, he thinks I don’t notice, but I do. You can feel his angry vibes, it’s kind of a show killer. Higuchi has a hard time calming him down” Chuuya huffs.
“I guess, it’s all the same really.”
“You say that, but Kunikida is fussing over everyone now that you aren’t there and it’s super annoying. He tried to father me, Dazai. I’m getting awkward Dad Talks. I never have to deal with any of the sort with Ozaki.”
“But aren’t you the same way?” Dazai says, chuckling a bit. “Look at that report you gave me, you’re like a mother hen, watching over her chicks.”
Chuuya huffs, and tilts his hat over his eyes some more.
“Whatever.”
“So how is Mori doing?” Dazai asks him a bit too casually; Chuuya shrugs. “He adopted a little girl recently, her name is Elise. She’s cuter than you are. He’s soft on her. It’s weird, but I think you two are alike. He’s soft on her, the way you are to Atsushi, but y’know nicer. I see them spending time together a lot. She’s a great kid, she actually had a personality unlike you.”
Dazai bumps his shoulder against Chuuya’s in offense. Chuuya shoves him right back. “He’d still… he’d still take you in if you want to go back? Mori-san, I don’t think he’s like that.”
Dazai pokes his forehead. “What do you know, idiot?”
“I know that you’re just like me. We’re lucky in a way, lucky because we were adopted into a well-do life, but it was for appearance than anything. We’re tools, we’re the reason their tax returns increase and we give them a good name in society by smiling pretty. Maybe you are uncomfortable being a tool in someone’s life, but if it allows us to live like this. Without any worries, with—” Chuuya bites his lip. With each other, he was about to say. “Anyways, I’m not stupid as you think. I know what’s up.”
“So you acknowledge you are stupid?” Dazai grins.
Chuuya smacks him on the arm, and jabs Dazai’s gut with his elbow for good measure.
“Idiot.”
Dazai’s grin fades a moment later. “What comes up, must come down, y’know?”
Chuuya stretches and makes his way down to the vending machine next to the bench and gets himself a drink. “Well, then fuck the laws of gravity. We’ll meet at a standstill.” He picks up the can and stands in front of Dazai. “We’ll make our own rules, then.”
Dazai smiles, smiles like he wants to believe, but doesn’t. Like he thinks Chuuya is just some naive idiot. He looks a bit angry too, in a frustrated sort of way. Chuuya wants to punch him. It’s hard not to want to raise your voice at him, Chuuya thinks. When he never truly outrightly says what he feels.
“Come home, Dazai.” Chuuya mutters. It’s not a concession, but maybe it is— dammit. Dazai shakes his head and grabs the canned coffee from his hand.
“You owe me a 150 yen for that drink, you bastard!” Chuuya yells when Dazai finally walks away. “I’m charging interest! You owe me so much money already, you know! Don’t think you can leave for good, if you haven’t gotten around to paying me back!” Chuuya calls out for good measure, twitching as Dazai offhandedly waves his hand in the air in response.
But Chuuya isn’t mad, okay he is kind of mad about the money thing (but who wouldn’t be mad about the money thing?) because if anything— if anything, it’s like a promise that they’ll meet again. Chuuya stretches, and looks up at the sky slowly shifting into a haze of pinks and orange.
“Geez, I really need a drink.”
.
It isn’t till Chuuya got home that he realized that Dazai didn’t give out a single bit of information about himself.
Chuuya tries to calm himself by screaming into his pillow — it doesn’t work. Dazai has always been like this, never giving any information about himself. Every bit of information was a series of half-truths and lies that made Chuuya’s head spin. He’s sick of losing class debates to him.
“What’s wrong with being straightforward?” Chuuya asked him once. Dazai had just laughed then. He’d still laugh now, Chuuya thinks.
Idiot.
.
“I decided to move out,” Dazai admits the next time Chuuya sees him, leaning against the railing. “I now camp out on a couch in a detective agency above a cafe,” Dazai says. “I’m still going to be taking end of the year exams, my boss helped me sort through it. Fukuzawa-san. He’s a good guy. He took a liking to my rakugo too, I guess.”
“That’s home for you?” Chuuya blinks. “A couch in a detective agency?”
“Well, it’s close enough. And it’s a comfortable couch. There’s actually an apartment I’m living in, but we’re at work most of the time. I’m rooming with this guy, Edogawa Ranpo. Recent university graduate or something.” Dazai holds his gaze with Chuuya, just a moment longer than usual. Chuuya doesn’t know whether he wants to turn away or finds it hard to do so. Regardless, he swallows in response.
“I’m eighteen, Mori holds nothing over me.” Dazai says, shrugging. “He’s a do want you want, kind of guy.”
“So are you.”
It’s quiet between them. “Oi, Dazai? Do you remember the day the last day you were here? You were arguing with me, telling me that I was staying in my coffin? Are you talking about the fact that I’m still staying with Ozaki? Did you want me to leave, along with you? Because I probably wouldn’t. I don’t think I would agree to it now. She’s not exactly family, but she’s definitely a presence in my life. And maybe it’s selfish to want to stay for the comforts, knowing that there’s a chance that she’ll probably kick me out. Don’t look down at me, you ass.”
“There’s nothing wrong about wanting to stay there,” Dazai replies. “And I’m flattered you think I’m that much of a romantic,” Dazai laughs. “Do you want me to ask you to run away with me?” He grabs Chuuya’s hands then, and Chuuya bites his lip– distracted by both the length of Dazai’s lashes under the intensity of his gaze, before roughly pulling his hands away.
“As if. But why did you make such a big deal about it!? Dropping out of school and everything! Dazai, you always do things by halves when you are on your own. Yet look at this. You’ve completely cut us out. All of us. You can play these games all you like, you can run away all you like, and honestly— you want to know what I think? I think you are trapped in your coffin more than the rest of us. Your coffin is just more roomier than ours, giving you the illusion of the outside world. And you’re trying to play some noble pretentious fucker who just all gets up and leaves his life? You’re eighteen, you can do what you want. But don’t pretend that you’re better. Shoving us all away like that.”
Dazai looks at him, a bit stunned. It’s hard to even get smug at stumping Dazai into a silence, when you are overflowing with emotion, Chuuya thinks. Because he didn’t mean to snap all those things. But Dazai always jokes and pushes himself further and further away from the truth, and it’s just easier to deal the blow all at once.
Dazai’s never been the best with emotions.
Neither has Chuuya, to be honest.
.
Dazai calls Chuuya a few days later.
“Fuck off,” Chuuya groans, and wants to hang up, but Dazai is not the kind of guy to be this forward so Chuuya keeps the phone nestled against his ear.
“Can’t a guy talk to his best friend?”
“We’ve never been that.” Chuuya says, hating how raw his chest feels.
“Oldest friend?” Dazai tries and Chuuya hums noncommittally. “It works I guess.”
“Regardless, we know each other the best. I think we can agree to that. We’re, we’re like partners.”
“What do you even know about me, bastard?” Chuuya snaps. “It’s always give and no take with you.
“I know that you want to be a hat maker, and that you have an atrocious taste in hats when it comes to yourself, but it’s kinda good when it comes to others. I know that you steal from Ozaki’s liquor cabinet and that you used to write a lot of song lyrics in your spare time. I know that you go to fabric stores for sales every so often, and that you befriended a lot of local hair stylists. I know that you play a lot of Dragon Age as a guilty pleasure, that you’re a nerd with a really embarrassing crush on a guy named Zevran. I know that you like getting into fights with anyone who underestimates you for being scrawny. I know that you watch over everyone, even though you are too embarrassed to admit it. I know that you genuinely enjoy performing rakugo, and that your eyes light up while doing it. I know that I’m sorry for leaving you alone in that club.”
“I know that you’ve been sending me text messages, ones that are even more persistent than Kunikida’s and that you worry tons. I guess, I guess I’m sorry about that, too.”
Chuuya doesn’t reply immediately, just letting the weight of Dazai’s words sink in. “That’s not really an apology,” Chuuya says after a moment, when the silence got a bit unbarable. “But I never really expected one from you anyways. But it’s the most honest you’ve ever been and that has to count for something. And it does.”
Dazai didn’t say anything, and Chuuya continues talking.
“I won’t, I won’t pretend to understand you. Frankly, you’re too weird for anyone to understand. But I’ll stay by your side. I won’t have you surpass me when my back is turned! If we’re going to move forward, we’re going to do it together.”
“Were you really always such a cliche, Chuuya?” Dazai asks, and Chuuya bristles.
“I don’t need to take this from Mr. Rambly Heart to Heart over here, like fuck off already. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Do you have a problem with that?” Chuuya snaps, trying to ignore the blush rising on his face.
“Maa, I never expected you to be so forward,” Dazai laughs. “Should I expect a love confession tomorrow? Because my heart is taken by Barista-san.”
“I don’t have to meet her to know that she’s out of your league,” Chuuya rolls his eyes.
“True, I guess I’ll just have to settle with you.” Dazai says.
“Oi! Whose settling you bastard!?” Chuuya says, eyes narrowing. Dazai laughs at his change in pitch, and Chuuya huffs.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“By the park?”
“By the park.” Dazai confirms, and hangs up.
Chuuya looks at his phone in silence.
.
“Hey,” Dazai says. His hands are shoved in his trench’s pockets and he’s beaming down at him, sheepish. And Chuuya– Chuuya is still in his school uniform: dark slacks, a plain button up with the collar popped and the tie loosely hanging from his neck and blazer draped his shoulders, instead of being worn all right and proper. Both of them are wearing the same standard school issue loafers– the ones that were ridiculously uncomfortable, until you broke them in.
“Hey yourself,” Chuuya says and doesn’t say anything more, he can’t because suddenly Dazai is speaking— talking in a too fast ramble that Chuuya just manages to keep up with. “I haven’t been answering text or calls because, for a moment it felt freeing, I guess? Freeing to drop out of the world like that, but after a while, it’s like you want to respond. You want to respond and talk and message back and you wonder why you were so ready and wanting to lose it all. I guess you showed me that. You’ve been lonely too right?” Dazai stops and looks at him.
And Chuuya— he’s biting his tongue, because god does he want to reply, but he doesn’t know how to. This isn’t want he expected. He expected he’d smack Dazai on the back of his head for being an idiot, he expected Dazai to say something stupid so he can insult him again, he expected Dazai to make some disparaging comment so that he can disprove it— he expected so many things, but he wants— oh he wants, he wants, he– oh fuck it, Chuuya thinks and reaches out for Dazai anyways.
Chuuya barely makes it Dazai’s shoulders, and his nose is cheek is pressed against Dazai’s sweater. “You’re an idiot,” Chuuya says, voice muffled. He grips Dazai tighter, his fingers curling deeper around his arms, digging his nails in. “A tall, stupid, idiot. You’re gonna owe everyone for years because you are that much of an idiot.”
Dazai just hums quietly, letting Chuuya rest against him and absentmindedly rubs his hand in soothing patterns on Chuuya’s back. “Oi, Chuuya– let’s go home. I wanted to take you, and maybe next time we can bring some of the others maybe? But Barista-san has been wanting to meet you for a while now. And so does Ranpo and Fukuzawa-san.”
Chuuya rubs his nose with the back of his sleeve. “She knows I’m not paying for anything you put on my tab, right? Because I don’t need to go to the place, to know you gave me a tab there.”
Dazai throws his arm around Chuuya as they walk back. “She’ll let you off with a rakugo performance or two? What?” Dazai blinks innocently. “Don’t look at me like that, you love performing!”
Chuuya reaches out at grabs Dazai’s wrist. “I love performing with you, idiot.”
It’s not a confession, but it’s close enough.
“Being a one-man band wasn’t as cool as you thought it’s be?” Dazai’s lips twitch into an apologetic smile.
“Something like that.” Chuuya shrugs and lets go of the wrist to walk ahead of Dazai. “They say rakugo is a one man show, and it is, but– it was— no, it is always easier to perform when it feels like it is you I’m speaking to.” He doesn’t look back to see Dazai’s expression at his words, at least not immediately because despite all the evidence to the contrary, raw honestly has never been their thing. “Besides, for some unlucky reason we’ve always worked better as a team.”
Dazai laughs, a full on belly laugh and Chuuya feels warm and pleased when Dazai reaches out for him. “Unlucky, indeed,” he says, squeezing Chuuya’s hand.
“Come on, you idiot,” Chuuya says, tugging Dazai ahead. And when Chuuya starts humming a song as they walk-- Dazai starts to hum, too. Chuuya bites his bottom lip to stop himself to beaming up at him. “Let me see what this new home of yours is made of.”
.