Chapter Text
Dazai Osamu didn't consider himself a person of good character, or the type who would wait for you to put your things in your backpack at the end of class. He would say that all of his actions were questionable, to say the least; that is, he was the type of person who, as soon as class ended, would already be flying out of the room as fast as possible. He didn't care about anyone.
The only person he would do anything to help—even if it took the slightest effort—was Odasaku, but his older brother didn't need to know that.
Oh, and of course, his dear and beloved childhood friend: Nakahara Chuuya.
And maybe his uncle Mori, although he didn't have a definitive opinion on him. Taking him and his brother in after their parents died had been a good thing, but he barely spoke to the surgeon, who was always busy and seemed never to sleep, so there wasn't much to say.
What made him think this way was the fact that he would never go to a party full of sweaty teenagers rubbing against each other of his own free will. Dazai loved Saturdays for one reason: he could spend hours in bed fantasizing about funny, painless ways to commit suicide, or maybe watch his favorite movies one more time, or even read his favorite books for the hundredth time. He was a simple man; if he had desires, they were few. If he wanted to have sex or kiss someone, he just had to call any willing girl.
But, of course, life isn't fair. Out of so many insignificant people in this world to care about, he had to care about the most annoying one he ever had the displeasure of knowing: Nakahara Chuuya.
It was because of that noisy redhead that he now found himself on a stranger's couch while a couple kissed right beside him.
Disgusting.
"Get a room, fuck!" the brunette exclaimed, backing away from the couple and making his usual grimace of disgust at the scene.
"Go fuck yourself, Dazai!" the guy cursed him. The taller one didn't even know who that bug was, so he walked away without caring about the insult.
Escaping the crowd of sweaty teenagers, Osamu looked for a red spark among all those dull, dark-haired heads. Crossing the living room and entering another slightly livelier room, where loud music was playing at such a deafening volume that it made him close his eyes in dizziness, he finally found him, dancing excitedly in the middle of all those people.
The two were like yin and yang or, for the nerdier ones, like two charges: one positive and one negative. However, according to chemistry and physics itself, these charges attract each other very easily.
As soon as he spotted the young boy with curly red hair, Dazai lost no time and dived into that madness of sweaty bodies just to see him, feel him... whatever it was. Seeing Chuuya was always a mix of emotions; it was as if, for a moment, he could feel everything and then some. As if little Nakahara was the only one capable of making the young brunette feel something. His feelings for him were like infinite waves. The short boy was like a hurricane that contaminated everyone around him. Osamu usually forgot to breathe around him, sometimes even forgot his own name, especially when he saw the redhead dancing with all his soul in that filthy room, his face flushed and his eyes highlighted by the eyeliner Dazai himself had bought for him a few days ago. It was indescribable to know that he actively participated in that boy's life and, man, how the brunette loved that boy.
Fluorescent Adolescent was playing at an absurd volume, making the whole room shake.
As Dazai approached his enemy, classmate, friend, best friend, or maybe even his soulmate, Chuuya fixed his bright blue eyes on him and focused on the tall silhouette of the brunette, who was drawing closer and closer.
Discarded all the naughty nights for niceness.
Landed in a very common crisis.
Nakahara swayed to the lively rhythm of his favorite band's song, smiling from ear to ear, snuggled up to his friend as if they had been made for each other. His friend had drunk a little more than usual, which was evident from his slightly flushed face and the clumsy way he danced. His movements were awkward, his hair a bit messy and stuck to his forehead because of sweat, his voice a little raspy, but above all, happy. The redhead seemed to be happy, enjoying that moment as if there were no tomorrow; and seeing that was all Dazai needed to know that every second in that smelly crowd was worth it.
In a black hole, everything is in order.
Nothing seems as pretty as the past.
"Didn't I tell you you were gonna like it?!" The shorter one shouted in his ear, without stopping dancing for even a second. Their bodies were already moving together, in perfect sync.
"The things I do for you, Freckles!" Osamu shouted back at the boy. The affectionate nickname made him laugh again, genuinely; and man, how the brunette loved that breathtaking smile.
That Bloody Mary's lacking Tabasco.
Remember when you were a naughty little rascal?
"Thanks, Zai! You know dad would never let me come alone!" he shouted once more, wrapping his arms around the other's neck. Dazai was slowly losing his mind as the smell of the shorter boy's shampoo invaded his nostrils. How could he be so perfect?
Ah, the boy's a bum.
The best you've ever had.
The two boys started singing together in unison. The redhead let his head fall back as he sang, and Dazai just admired the silhouette of his dance partner's neck.
He was screwed.
Completely.
The best you've ever had is just a memory.
And those dreams
weren't as foolish
as they seem, my love, when you imagine them.
.
Nakahara Chuuya's life couldn't be better.
The young redhead was born through surrogacy and spoiled from an early age by his French parents, who decided to move to Japan when he was only four years old. Little Nakahara didn't quite understand why he had to stop attending the daycare he was so used to, but as long as his parents were around, that was all he needed.
So, the atypical family moved to Yokohama, the second largest city in Japan and the capital of Kanagawa Prefecture. It was a drastic change, but his parents were willing to do anything; Paul had gotten a great opportunity to open a new branch in the city and wouldn't miss it for anything.
Chuuya might have been a little annoyed by the move at first, but as the years went by, he realized he was completely wrong. After all, he had met the two most incredible people in his life in that Japanese city that was now his home.
Ozaki Kouyou was a brat who tried to act like an adult when Chuuya met her. She was the youngest employee at his father's shop and, despite her delicate appearance—with long red hair and skin as white as snow—the young girl had a fiery temper and refused to talk about her problems until they exploded like a pressure cooker. Very much like the redhead; in other words, his parents simply put the pieces together and took in another troubled teenager. The young girl lived in a residential neighborhood of the city; her mother had passed away when she was still a child, and her father barely ever showed up at home—and when he did, he was drunk to the point of passing out.
Paul made sure to welcome her with open arms and treat her like a family member. Thus, she became a sort of older sister to Chuuya.
Besides Kouyou, he also made a rather peculiar friendship while living there.
At just six years old, he was already terrorizing the neighborhood with his antics. Chuuya was explosive, easily irritated, loved running, jumping, playing, and his energy seemed endless. He was smart and, at that age, already possessed a good command of his native language, trying to balance it with the Japanese he gradually learned at school. He also had an easy time making friends; he was practically friends with everyone in his classroom.
Well, with the exception of one person.
Dazai Osamu was an introverted boy who only spoke when necessary. Everyone saw him as a boring kid who didn't like to play and only cared about homework. The redhead never felt any dislike for the brunette; they just lived in a quiet competition for first place in the class, fighting over grades, races, and even the best drawing in art class.
They didn't talk, didn't look at each other for longer than necessary, just lived with the quiet rivalries imposed by the social conventions of their classmates.
Chuuya considered himself a competitive person, but saw no point in competing with someone who barely opened his mouth in class.
Until, on a rainy day, the redhead was forced out of bed—going to school in a terrible mood—and saw that same quiet boy cornered by four high school students. They were tall and had a clear physical advantage over the brunette.
In that instant, Chuuya had two options: ignore it completely and keep walking, or try to intervene and call a responsible adult.
"To hell with it!" he thought, dropping his umbrella and backpack in the middle of the street to intercept the fight about to happen right before his eyes.
"Hey, you idiots! Leave the kid alone!" Chuuya shouted, drawing everyone's attention. The teenagers looked at the redhead with a mix of curiosity and amusement, realizing they would have one more kid to beat up.
"Lucky us, another brat to..." said the long-haired teenager in an arrogant tone, before being interrupted by another voice.
"Chuuya, you bastard! Get out of here right now, you idiot!" shouted the brunette back at his classmate. "This fight is mine!"
"Huh! Have you completely lost your mind? They're gonna destroy you!" he shouted back, surprised by the other's nerve to curse at him when he just wanted to help. Chuuya thought to himself: what a strange creature that boy was.
"Get out of here right now, I won't repeat myself!"
"Can you shut up? I'm trying to help!" Chuuya exclaimed, frowning at the other's stubbornness.
"Shut up, you two brats! You're gonna get beaten up now..." Before the group's leader could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by a precise kick right in the middle of his face, delivered by the short-tempered redhead. The attacker staggered backward, roaring in pain from the impact.
Chuuya's foot was also throbbing with pain after the sudden impact, and he had already read about it: it was Newton's Third Law in action.
"Run!" shouted Nakahara, grabbing Dazai by the arm and dashing down the street. The other had no choice but to run through the wet streets of that neighborhood with all the strength he had left. They could hear the hurried footsteps of the teenagers behind them, but the duo didn't stop for a single second, giving their all in that escape.
Chuuya knew those streets by heart, so getting home wouldn't be a problem.
The real problem would be facing a furious Paul, asking why he was soaked, without his backpack, without an umbrella, and to make matters worse, accompanied by a skinny, dark-haired boy.
After explaining what happened in detail, his furious father tried to call the school where the boys studied, cursing them in French. It was an atypical and funny scene; Paul didn't usually lose his patience easily, but when it came to a risky situation involving Chuuya, his veins would bulge on his forehead and he would turn red with anger like a pepper. Rimbaud was still laughing at the scene while making hot chocolate for the boys, who were now warm under several blankets on the redhead's couch.
"Dazai-kun, I need your parents' phone number to notify them, they must be worried about you," Arthur said as he handed the mug to the child.
Osamu whispered his home phone number, and the adult started dialing it on his phone, while the redhead looked intently at the TV in front of him, watching his favorite movie, Brave. The princess with curly red hair reminded him of himself, and he loved watching the movie and seeing how brave the character seemed when defying her mother.
"Hey, Chuuya," called the brunette. The other finally shifted his blue eyes from the screen to the boy beside him. "Thanks for running with me, even though it was stupid. I could have gotten out of there by myself."
"Whatever, you pain in the neck," he grumbled, seeing the pride his classmate still showed over the whole situation, but soon went back to watching the brave princess shooting arrows at all the targets, thrilled by the feat.
"Hey, what's your name?" The redhead looked to the side, surprised by Dazai's question.
"Huh? You know my name!" He grumbled, sniffing.
"But Freckles, we've never met properly, I only hear about you. My mom says that when I like someone, I have to ask their name politely," the brunette explained, sounding quite convincing.
Rimbaud listened intently to the boy's speech, wondering why on earth the child sounded like an adult presenting a thesis. He chuckled quietly remembering the intrusive thought that came to him; children were quite difficult to deal with and unpredictable most of the time.
The redhead's eyes widened at the other's declaration. "You like me?"
"Of course!" replied Dazai enthusiastically.
Nakahara had never seen the boy smile, so to be honest, it was a little creepy. But it wasn't that bad. Seeing that scene, he cheered up and his blue eyes sparkled.
"Then let's be best friends, Osamu!" He shouted happily, jumping off the couch.
"Chuuya, calm down, you're gonna scare the poor boy like that." The older of the two huffed upon seeing his son running around like a little Tasmanian devil.
Dazai wasn't used to having friends, let alone one as hyper and loud as Chuuya, but it couldn't hurt to try, right? It was what his mother told him every day.
Thus, that infamous duo was formed. As the years went by, both grew up, got hurt, fought, and had a lot of fun. Like never before, and despite everything, they still held that title: best friends.
Even though they hated that title because they always claimed their parents paid each other to become friends.
And whenever possible, they were laughing at that joke together, since most people actually believed it.
This didn't limit itself to middle school; both boys had moved schools together for high school and were now attending their senior year together, and would probably take the college entrance exams the same way. Despite participating in different social circles at school, having distinct personalities, and usually clashing with one another, being close was no longer a regularity for them—it was a necessity. They could fight, insult each other, argue for hours on end, but they would still be that duo.
Once, Paul took Chuuya to France during summer vacation, and both boys became extremely mopey in their respective corners during that period. It was comical to see how their relationship had established itself up to that moment.
So it was no surprise that the infamous duo was sleeping in Chuuya's bed on a lazy Sunday morning, after attending Higuchi's party all night. After all, the redhead always insisted that a good party must be enjoyed until the very end. Perhaps it was an illusion created by him when he watched the series Skins and imagined his adolescence a bit like that, minus the disorders and traumas experienced by the characters in the fictional work.
Sleeping was the redhead's favorite pastime; whenever he could, he was sleeping, napping, or resting.
The brunette, on the other hand, considered sleeping a completely relaxing activity, but hard to achieve; his medication almost always stripped him of sleep, and if he took the ones specifically for insomnia, he would probably walk around like a zombie at school, so it wasn't a viable option for him.
Waking up was an inconvenience for Osamu. Leaving the state of unconsciousness to resume his life was annoying, but when he slept at his best friend's house, the situation was completely different. Waking up in his bed, with their limbs tangled due to the small size of the bed, with Chuuya's hair completely wild close enough to his face that he could smell it, was like being in heaven. It was one of his favorite sensations, comparable to getting high and interrupting that train of thought that didn't stop for a single second.
Sleeping together was an old habit; ever since they were kids, they pulled all-nighters together, comforting each other if one of them had nightmares. Especially after the death of his parents, Chuuya would always hold him and hug him, whispering words of comfort.
Hearing his breathing and heartbeat was something so simple, yet extremely profound. Dazai could count them while absorbing the whole environment around him. That room was already cozier than his could ever be.
Too bad that waking up took less than a minute.
Chuuya tossed from the corner where he was, by the wall, blinking his eyelashes lightly to dispel that cloud of sleep that still persisted. The brunette watched the creature beside him waking up with care. He knew the shorter one was known for his short temper, and in the morning, it was a fact he would wake up in a bad mood.
He also observed how long the shorter one took to wake up, rising slowly and adjusting his vision to the sun entering his room. Letting out small grunts of annoyance and ridding himself of the sheet that lay over him.
"Osamu," the redhead called him, blinking his bright blue eyes at the taller one.
"Hmm," Dazai let out, trying to pretend he had woken up at the same time as the other.
"Stop staring at me. It's creeping me out," he said, blinking his eyes once more.
The brunette laughed at the comment and shifted his gaze to the ceiling. Being with his usual partner right now was torturous and a bit melancholy for him. Living a one-sided relationship had never been his greatest goal; however, the universe handed him unresolved pieces every day.
He was even used to everything going wrong and wondered if it would ever go right.
"Dazai."
"Yeah, Freckles."
"I'm spending tonight with Yuan," Chuuya blurted out, somewhat unexpectedly and indifferently.
"Huh?" Dazai grumbled, trying to decipher his friend's expression. "We always spend the eve of your birthday together, I don't see why that should change."
"Sorry, Zai. She's been pestering me a bit, saying I'm distant," he replied to the taller boy's complaint, poking his cheek. Osamu had a pout on his face, mad about the change in their years-long routine. "It's just for tonight, okay? I can spend the whole day with you, don't worry. Yuan was just upset because she didn't go to the party yesterday, that's all."
"Her problem."
"Osamu!"
"Fine! I get it, do whatever you want," he huffed, climbing out of bed. The redhead followed him, reaching for the brunette's hand to entwine their fingers. The movement, intimate on its own, piqued Dazai's interest.
Chuuya leaned his head on the other's shoulder, enjoying the moment.
They used to stay physically close almost all the time; as kids, it was annoying to hear their classmates' teasing about it, which Osamu always ignored or just answered with sarcasm. The redhead, on the contrary, picked countless fights; he thought it was unfair for people to judge him just because he liked hugging his friend. In the end, everyone knew that if they said anything or even made up a rumor, Nakahara would make sure to kick their ass.
"Thanks for not freaking out, okay? This is really important to me. She's my first girlfriend and I want it to be special for her."
"As you wish, my confusion," Dazai replied.
"You're welcome, my chaos," Chuuya smiled.
Speaking his native language was a reminder of who he was. Despite loving Japan, the redhead also loved France—the streets with yellow lights, the museums, the people, and the always fantastic energy.
He had always dreamed of taking Dazai there, and now perhaps he would also like to accompany Yuan to the city of love.
Knowing his best friend had made sure to learn his native language warmed his heart in a different way.
(To be honest, Chuuya was indeed disappointed because he was going to spend his birthday night away from his friend after several years of tradition, but he had promised Yuan after the girl insisted so much.)
He didn't want to be a jerk either.
The boy would hate not doing nice things for his girlfriend; he wasn't a womanizer like his friend, who usually left women crying. Nakahara genuinely liked the pink-haired girl and would do his best to please her.
After snuggling into each other for a while, Chuuya decided to pick up his phone for the first time in a few hours, knowing he would have several messages, tags, and updates on what had happened yesterday. It was common since he had many friends.
Scrolling through blurry photos he didn't even remember taking—many of Dazai himself, who always made sure to fill his storage with photographs of the two of them—some missed messages on Snapchat, and notifications from Twitter, he hovered over the messages received in the early hours of the morning.
One specific message, however, gave him a morning headache.
[12:48 AM] Yuan: Can you give updates on how things are going there?
[01:46 AM] Yuan: Just send the fucking text, Chuuya.
[02:56 AM] Yuan: Shirase said he saw you on the dance floor with Dazai, I told you not to overdo it.
[04:46 AM] Yuan: Shirase didn't see you leaving the party, I hope you're happy for not letting me know for even a minute.
[04:48 AM] Yuan: Whatever.
[09:48 AM] You: Sorry, princess.
[09:48 AM] You: I drank a bit and got carried away.
[09:49 AM] You: I didn't even look at my phone.
[09:49 AM] You: I'll pick you up at 6 PM, okay?
He sighed, tossing the phone aside.
"ChuuChuu! Your dad made pancakes, I'm not leaving any for you!" Dazai shouted from downstairs.
"If you don't leave any for me, I'm gonna beat you up, you idiot!" The redhead shouted back, rushing down the stairs quickly because he knew the brunette was fully capable of eating everything.
"Language, Chuuya!" Paul shouted while serving more pancakes onto his husband's plate.
"Your dad would never let you beat me up under his roof," Dazai teased.
"I'll drag you outside, bastard!" He barked, arriving at the breakfast table. Though he spoke with a certain fury, the redhead was far from being annoyed, hiding a smile from ear to ear. Walking across the kitchen, he gave his parents a kiss on the cheek.
"Your son takes after you with that choice language, my dear," Arthur said, holding his mug printed with the phrase "world's best dad" filled with hot chocolate.
"Come here, I'm gonna make you swallow all those pancakes!"
"Just try it, you jerk!"
Paul sighed, giving up on making the two boys behave. He was already used to the domestic scene.
"Boys," he sighed, sitting down next to his husband while serving himself some fruit and yogurt.
"Dazai-kun, did you take many pictures yesterday? I'd love to see how my son was doing," the man with long dark hair said. "Chuuya wouldn't stop talking for a second about how much he wanted to go to the party."
"Absolutely! I'll send them all to you, sir," Dazai said, raising his hand in a playful gesture, as if he were obeying a commander's orders.
"I hope he behaved himself," Paul added.
"Dad, I'm not a damn child!" Chuuya grumbled with his mouth full. "I can look after myself without this walking mummy."
"Oh? How can a dog walk without a leash?"
"Shut up!"
"Guys, calm down," the other spoke once more. "Your dad and I know you can look after yourself, my dear. But it's always better to be accompanied."
The redhead went quiet at his father's statement. Arthur had always been calmer than the blonde, and that showed a lot in their daily life.
Paul always wanted to know where he was, when, or why, and was always worried that the red spots Chuuya had once had would suddenly return and he would end up in the hospital again.
"What is that on your neck?" The blonde questioned as he looked at his son.
Immediately upon hearing the question, the redhead placed his hand over his neck to cover the damn hickey his girlfriend had given him. He had completely forgotten about it.
"Chuuya. Take your hand off your neck. Arthur, look there, it's red again. Doesn't it look just like when the Purpura started two years ago?"
Chuuya rolled his eyes, his face burning with embarrassment, while Dazai suppressed a laugh beside him.
"Dad, for God's sake, it's just a mosquito bite! Stop with the drama!"
Rimbaud, taking a sip of hot chocolate calmly, placed his hand on his husband's shoulder. "Calm down, Paul, the doctor said it was an isolated case... and please, put down that corticosteroid, we're eating."
"This boy is gonna give me white hair," the other sighed, letting his head rest on his partner's hand.
"Don't worry, Mr. Verlaine! I'll always keep an eye on my favorite coat rack."
"Shut up, Dazai!"