Chapter Text
“Dazai?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you doing anything for Valentine’s Day?” Ranpo asked him, when they were all eating lunch together.
“WHAT?!”
“You know, it seemed like you had someone in mind…” He laughed, while Dazai folded his long legs to lay his head to rest on his knees.
“No, Ranpo-san. I could hardly care about such trivial things, when I still haven’t acquired death. Ah, woe is me!”
“Shut up, Dazai, no one cares,” Kunikida snapped at him, putting his wooden chopsticks back in his box.
“Kunikida-kun~ No~” Dazai clung onto Kunikida’s arm, causing Atsushi — who was sitting beside Kunikida — to quickly abandon his food and crawl to the other side of the circle they were sitting in.
As Dazai moved back to his spot in the middle of Ranpo and Akutagawa — who insisted ‘Dazai-senpai’ sit next to him by yelling at Atsushi to empty the seat next to him, despite them sitting on grass, dear readers — his mind flashed back to the orange-haired boy he’d seen in the hallway, the boy with eyes the color of the ocean, the boy who’d stolen his guarded heart with a single glance.
Valentine’s Day, huh?
Dazai fiddled with his sleeves, suddenly going quiet, because an incomprehensible thought had entered his mind.
What if I give him a gift?
His face felt warm, as he curled up into himself, flushing at the thought of giving the other boy something for Valentine’s Day. He decided that he would ask Oda to take him to the market that night, preferably early evening, so that they could spend a while browsing all the shops.
“Oh, Dazai?! Hello?!” Kunikida’s hands floated in front of his vision.
“Ah, sorry, Kunikida-kun.”
“We just wanted to ask if you wanted to come to study together today after school, Dazai-san.” Atsushi smiled, his purple eyes catching the light.
“Oh, sorry, Atsushi-kun, but I have something to attend to. Maybe another day, hmm?”
“Of course!”
“Souzou wo koeta bokura wa
Kanjou no mama migatte sa…”
The muddy leaves under Dazai’s shoes crunched as he walked home, Japanese lyrics letting his mind wander free. The sky was a musty gray, overcast and foreboding, but his thoughts kept landing on the ginger boy and the gift, his heart feeling light for the first time in a long time. Even the thought of returning home to his uncle did nothing to dampen his spirits.
“Odasaku! I’m home!” Dazai called, taking off his shoes at the front door.
“Hey, Dazai. How was your day? Mori’s not home.” Oda greeted him, a wooden ladle in his hand.
“Odasaku, can I ask you something?”
“If this is about another bridge, I’m not listening…”
“What? No! Can you take me to the market this evening?” Dazai took off his coat and put it in the coat rack.
“Huh? What brought this on?”
“I wanted to buy something, for, uh, someone.”
“I mean, sure. I’ll come with you.” If Oda noticed that last part, he made no sign of it.
Dazai laughed, a light sound that lit up the room for the first time.
Oda smiled.
“Now sit down, and oh, by the way, isn’t Eve performing again? Maybe if you want-”
“YES! Yes! I will not be missing this for the world! Hopefully they play some songs from Bunka too, but that’s probably not going to happen, because Under Blue released.”
“I’ll see if I have enough saved up, okay?”
“You’re the best, Odasaku.”
That evening, the two siblings set off to the market, Dazai wearing a white collared shirt and a trench coat, his brown hair tousled by the dusk breeze. The night crowd was setting in, the salarymen getting out of work, university couples and middle-aged people alike wandering around, the setting sun casting the sky into a pink-purple light.
Oda first led Dazai to a clothing store, and upon hearing the news, Dazai dragged Oda to an anime store, where the older brother unwillingly hid in the plushie section. However, dear readers, they did not buy anything for Chuuya, but instead had ended up buying Moriarty the Patriot keychains for Dazai and a Vanitas No Carte t-shirt that Oda had found cool.
The sky turned dark, and yet, the siblings flitted from store to store, either buying absolutely useless things — so many so, that Oda had to refuse everything Dazai asked by the sixth store, after which, out of spite, Dazai stole Oda’s wallet (he did not bring his own) and bought five flat caps — or not finding anything for Chuuya.
Just as they were about to give up for the night, and head home — Oda had already started looking up train times and locating the nearest station — Dazai spotted a music store.
“Odasaku, look! Let’s go in there!”
“What?”
“I’ve seen them walking with a guitar sometimes. They probably like music!”
“If there’s Eve stuff in there, I’m already telling you, I am not buying anything.”
“Yeah, yeah.” /p>
Dazai and Oda walked inside the air-conditioned store, the door chiming a pleasant tune. The lights were dim, a shade of white-yellow. Guitars lined the walls, and vinyls and acrylics took up an entire half of the store.
“You know what, I’ll ask the cashier what guitar accessories they have, and you go look in the shop.”
“You just think the cashier is cute, Odasaku.”
“Wha- I do not!”
Dazai laughed, and watched Oda walk up to the cashier, a guy with round glasses and a mole on his face, a sigh escaping Oda’s lips as they talked.
The brunet headed to the vinyls/CDs section, looking through all the artists, occasionally smiling to himself when he spotted Eve’s or another utaite’s. There were also a variety of specialized add-ons for different instruments that Dazai didn’t quite understand, but looked through anyway for fear of missing anything that might be a worthy enough gift for the ginger boy.
The door chimed once more with its pleasant tune, and Dazai looked over at it, curious as to who just came in.
Oh shit!
His heart leapt in his throat as he tried to get to Oda, who was still chatting animatedly with the cashier. When that attempt failed, he simply ducked behind the shelves, trying to hide his lanky frame out of sight.
An orange-haired boy had just walked through the door, his cobalt blue eyes shimmering with the glint from the street lights outside. His hair was messy, one asymmetrical section thrown over his shoulder still, his hands in his jacket pocket.
Dazai peeked at the boy who had just arrived, the boy who had adorned his dreams like the stars in the night sky, the boy who had claimed the brunet’s heart as his, whom Dazai could never stop thinking about.
“Oh, hey, Ango-san!” The ginger greeted the cashier.
“Hello, Chuuya. Oh, yeah, Sakkun,” — Oh my god, Odasaku did it. ‘Sakkun’. Good job, Odasaku, Dazai thought, at the sound of an affectionate nickname being used for Oda by the, in Oda’s eyes, cute cashier — “you should probably ask Chuuya about guitar accessories. He knows more than me anyway.”
Chuuya?
Dazai whispered the boy’s — Chuuya’s — name to himself, admiring how the syllables flowed, like a waterfall he was falling down.
Chuuya.
“Oh, hello…?” Dazai could distinctly hear Oda waiting for Chuuya’s last name.
Nakahara. But you can call me Chuuya, uh…?”
“Oda. Nice to meet you.”
Chuuya Nakahara.
He muttered the name to himself — Chuuya Nakahara, Chuuya Nakahara, Chuuya… — a flush rising up Dazai’s face as he felt the name on his tongue.
“Oda-san, so, what kind of accessories are you looking for?”
“Hmm, my brother would be best suited to talking to you about that, but I have no idea where he is now. Let me call him. Just a second.”
NO!
Odasaku, I swear to God if you call me…
Dazai waited with bated breath for the call, but it never came.
“Sakkun, you probably shouldn’t call him. What if he’s busy? You never know.”
“You’re right, An-rin.”
Dazai silently thanked his stars.
“Well, I mean, if my brother isn’t here, I’m afraid I’m probably not of much use to you, Chuuya-san.”
“Oh. Alright then. Ango-san, do you have any Sigure CDs?” He meant Ling Tosite Sigure, the J-rock band, dear readers.
(Also, I hope you’ll forgive my incessant references to Japanese pop and rock alike in this story. That is the only kind of music your author listens to — I know, I know, he is very uneducated.)
“You can check that side.” Ango gestured to the part of the room Dazai was currently hiding in.
“Oh shit, I forgot my wallet. Can you wait a second?”
Dazai heard the sound of the boy’s shoes clicking against the tiled floor, and then sighed in relief as he heard them fade away.
Sigure, huh?
“Where the hell is my brother, though? Hopefully he’s not drowning himself or something.” Oda sighed.
“What…?” Ango was very confused.
“Don’t ask.”
“O~da~saa~kuu~!” Dazai leaped up from his position behind the shelves to wave at Oda, was standing — gasp — on the same side of the counter as Ango, angled toward each other.
“Where did you go, Dazai?”
“I left through the window and came back.” Dazai said innocently.
Oda knew that there was, in fact, no window, however, he decided to give his younger brother the benefit of the doubt.
“Uh-huh. You just missed someone who could have helped you in finding a gift for them, Dazai. He’ll come back, though, but still…”
“No need for that guy!” ‘That guy’ was the person Dazai wanted to buy a gift for, but Oda didn’t know that, and neither would the brunet tell him. “I heard them mentioning a band they listened to. We can buy a CD for them!”
“Okay, which band?”
“HIGEDAN!” He meant Official HIGE DANdism, the J-rock — technically pop-rock, but let’s count them — band, dear readers.
“Oh, those guys. Didn’t they write Subtitle?”
“Yeah! And Cry Baby!”
Even though Chuuya had mentioned Ling Tosite Sigure specifically, Dazai’s reasoning behind choosing Official HIGE DANdism was that — I am going to offend so many people here, aren’t I, dear readers? — they were both J-rock bands, and even though they had different sounds, it was likely that Chuuya listened to Official HIGE DANdism as well. Unless he was like Dazai, only listening to utaite and nothing else, they were in the clear.
“Hmm, okay. An-rin!” Oda turned to Ango. “Do you have any HIGEDAN CDs?”
“Yeah, check the vinyl section.”
Dazai trotted behind the shelves he was hiding behind, humming a soft song to himself, as he sifted through the plastic covers of bands and artists, Japanese and Western alike. He was unable to recognize many names, but after a bit of searching, he had found a few CDs of the band he was looking for.
Oda and Dazai bought them — Ango sighing when he realised Oda had to leave — and set off into the night, the street illuminated by old, Western-style lamps.
The two siblings walked home, talking about mundane things, like which professor Oda wanted to kill for assigning them the worst possible level of courseload known to mankind, — “My, my, Odasaku, have you finally become the murderer you’ve aspired to be?” — or how Akutagawa had finally written his essay on society and had gotten a ‘very well done’ from Fukuzawa-sensei and had somehow become even more pretentious than before.
“Anyway, he’s really rude but that’s probably because he likes Atsushi, you kno-” Dazai was saying, when he saw a petite figure running right at him, and got horribly bumped into.
“Ah, I’m so sorry.” A husky but melodious voice apologized to Oda and Dazai, long strands of hair falling on their face as they bowed.
“No, no, it’s okay.” Oda smiled to dissipate any hostility.
“Wait…aren’t you that guy who was hitting it off with Ango-san at Gakki over there?”
Dazai’s heart beat faster, his face going warm for the third time today.
How many times? Are you trying to kill me, Nakahara?
“Oh, Chuuya-san, yes. Dazai, this was the guy I wa- Dazai?”
Dazai had slipped away quietly, and started running the opposite direction, back to the market, the CDs still in his hands, beige trenchcoat billowing in the cold night air.
“OI! WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?!” He heard Chuuya’s voice after him, catching up.
A pale, cold hand grabbed his collar and dragged him back, as they both fell onto the pavement, beside each other.
“The fuck are you running for?” Chuuya’s face, up close, was truly so beautiful, littered with little sand-colored freckles and scars, his orange strands framing it. Up close, Dazai couldn’t tear his eyes away from this masterpiece made in heaven, a storm of contrasts, of perfections and imperfections that had set his heart aflutter.
“I saw someone.”
“That’s not true, but whatever.” Chuuya looped his fingers around Dazai’s, helping him up, Dazai grateful for the darkness.
“Hey, I’m Chuuya.” The ginger boy extended his hand toward Dazai.
“Dazai. Nice to meet you, Chuuya.” They shook hands.
“Aren’t you in my school? I feel like I’ve seen you around.”
“Yes. Your shortness really makes you stand out, you know.”
“OI! YOU BAS-”
“DAZAI!” Oda’s breathless voice shouted. “WHAT?! WHAT WERE YOU PLAYING AT?!” He sighed, careful not to scold Dazai too much, for fear of his brother retreating into his self-destructive shell. “Don’t run like that again.”
“Okay, Odasaku…”
Oda sighed.
“Sorry, Chuuya-sa-”
“-kun is fine, Oda-san.”
“Chuuya-kun, then. We’ll have to be off on our way.”
“Oh, okay, then. Genki de!”
“Bye, Chuuya~!” Dazai waved.
“See you around, bastard.”
Dazai giggled, as he saw Chuuya’s figure walk away into the bustling marketplace.
“You’re really strange, Dazai.”
Dazai simply laughed.
The next day, Dazai loitered into school with a spring in his step, attending classes for once and not teasing Kunikida whenever given the opportunity. He was nice to Akutagawa and sweet to everyone else — Akutagawa was still a prick, readers — and his face glowed, like a new life had taken possession over his body.
“Dazai, uh, are you feeling well?” Kunikida asked during lunchtime.
“Yeah, why?”
“I mean, it’s just that you’ve been so nice to everyone today, we were wondering if you had a fever or something,” Atsushi said, smiling nervously.
“Oh, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai sighed theatrically, “I can be nice when I want to.”
“Not really.”
“Mmm. Oh, by the way, do any of you know how to wrap gifts?”
“...what?”
“Is it a yes or a no?”
“I do, but I don’t see how that’s relevant.” Kunikida raised his hand.
“Yay! Here, wrap these.” The brunet pulled out the Official HIGE DANdism CDs and some blue wrapping paper out of his bookbag.
“What the hell?”
“Are those HIGEDAN CDs?” Tachihara had just arrived.
“I mean, I can try…” Kunikida reached for them.
Thirty minutes — and much screaming later — they had finished wrapping the CDs. Atsushi had tape stuck in his silver hair, and glue had fallen in Tachihara’s lunchbox.
“Here you go, and don’t bring wrapping paper near me again.” The blond student thrust the gifts into Dazai’s hands, wiping his own with a tissue.
“Arigatou, Kunikida-kun~”
“Whatever.”
Two days until Valentine’s Day.
Dazai popped his earbuds in his ears, scrolling down his playlist to play a song he enjoyed. On days he was indecisive, he would use the ‘Shuffle’ feature, however, today was a day he already had a song in mind.
As the bass kicked in, sending little shivers of excitement down his shivers, he descended down the stairs to the ground floor, where the end-of-day crowd packed the halls. The singer’s boyish, low voice erupted into his ears, and the brunet closed his eyes, slowly becoming more unaware of his surroundings.
In this almost drunken state of euphoria, he reached the front gates, the sun turning his chocolate-colored hair a shade of golden brown. His hand in his pockets, he turned the direction his house was in, lost in his world.
“OI! Watch where you’re going, fucker!” A voice snapped him back to reality, as he pressed the triangular shape in the middle of his screen.
“Oh, hello, Chuuya.”
A short — petite, Dazai called it in his head — boy stood in front of him, his orange hair even more vibrant, glaring at the taller student.
“Hey, Dazai!”
Dazai sighed dramatically. “Don’t you think you should be eating more, Chuuya?”
“What?”
“I mean, you’re so short, you should be getting the proper nutrients to grow.”
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?!”
“Chibikko, this is life advice I’m giving you right now, unless you want to be this height forever, which, that’s a bold choice.”
“Bandaged bastard.” Chuuya eyed Dazai’s bandages up and down.
“Eheheh.”
“Whatever, I have to go this way.” Chuuya pointed toward a street lined with trees. “See ya around.”
“Byeee, chibi!”
Dazai’s heart beat faster than it had ever done before.
One day until Valentine’s.
The sun rose, drowning Dazai’s room in a shade of golden brown, tinting the gift-wrapped CDs orange.
He lay in bed, fully awake, eyes closed, heart throbbing in anticipation of the day to come. He rolled over, unable to sleep, and then finally decided to pull himself out of bed. The alarm clock on his nightstand read ‘o6:52’.
Half an hour later, he was back to sitting on his bed, but this time, fully in uniform and holding the gift, with a note attached, in his hand.
Dazai took a deep breath, as he opened the door to his room and walked down the stairs, the gift in his bag.
“Hey, Odasaku, I’m leaving for school now!”
“Mmm, take care, Dazai!” came the reply from the living room, where Oda was currently studying.
Dazai walked to school in a state of almost electrifying suspense, hoping against hope that Chuuya himself would bump into him and he wouldn’t have to go find him on his own.
“Dazai-san!” Atsushi called to him, spotting him at the front gate.
“Atsushi-kun, hi~”
“Are you going to give chocolates to someone?”
“Mmm, no. But I will give a gift.”
“Eh, really?! Is it the boy from the hallway?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oooh, good luck, senpai!”
The next two hours passed for Dazai in a state of anticipation, his head throbbing with all the stress, but his heart feeling strangely light, as if he had drunk a bottle of some sort of elixir.
The lunch bell rang, and he began to meander to the spot where he and his friends congregate, under the big tree with a canopy that acted as a shield during the hot summer months.
As he walked there, his legs moving of their own accord, he bumped into someone.
“Ah, sorry. Chuuya?”
“Dazai?”
Flaming orange hair.
Cobalt blue eyes.
A pale face, so delicate, yet so misleading.
Like a star, he shone, illuminating Dazai’s dark world.
Chuuya Nakahara.
“Can you step out of the way, dude?” Chuuya made to leave.
“WAIT!”
“Huh?”
“Can you come over here?” Dazai led Chuuya outside, behind the building, under a tree that filtered out most of the sunlight.
“You gonna kidnap me or something?”
“What? No. Just have this.” The brunet thrust the package into Chuuya’s hands. “Happy Valentine’s, Chuuya.”
“Huh…?”
"I love you."