Archive of Our Own

Despite the fact that Dazai has fallen into a ditch before, he is not, in fact, blind. Which means he can tell that Chuuya has clearly caught feelings for him. It wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure it out—and considering Dazai is a genius—it was only a matter of time before he was bound to notice the way Chuuya’s been behaving around him.

The redhead would steal a glance at him, bite his lip, and then rapidly look away when the brunet’s chestnut eyes would meet his azure ones. Chuuya would look like he’s got something to say but no words would leave his mouth, as if they were stuck in his throat.

And he would blush when someone brought up the topic of having a significant other. And if that wasn’t an indication enough that he had someone he likes (Dazai), when asked if he had a crush, Chuuya would turn beet red.

He’s also very clearly made the mistake of telling his middle school friends what’s-his-name-Shitrase and her-panties-are-the-color-of-her-hair-Yuan about his crush on Dazai. Because when they would run into each other outside of class—as the two were in a different one from Chuuya and Dazai—Chuuya would act like he hadn’t seen them. Then he would abruptly change directions when Shirase noticed him and gave him a grin that seemed to spell ‘I know what’s going on there’.

The gray haired teenager might as well have wiggled his eyebrows at Chuuya if he wasn’t already making it obvious enough that he knew about Chuuya’s feelings for Dazai.

But sweet oblivious Chuuya has no idea Dazai is already in the know, too.

They’re on their way home when Chuuya finally manages to get words past his lips. “Hey, idiot,” he starts with to get Dazai’s attention. When the brunet hums absent-mindedly and spares the redhead a glance, Chuuya continues, “I have something to tell you.”

Alarm bells instantly go off in Dazai’s head. Chuuya would never talk to him like that—softly, eyes darting between the scenery, like he’s nervous—instead of just blurting out what’s on his mind if he wasn’t about to confess.

And Dazai doesn’t want to make things awkward between them. Because he doesn’t like Chuuya. He doesn’t like men.

“Ah~ Chibi, I think I just saw a beautiful lady to commit double suicide with~~”, Dazai singsongs, his legs suddenly changing the direction he’s walking in and taking him towards the sidewalk on the other side of the road.

“You-! You bandage wasting machine! I had something to tell you!” Chuuya yells, obviously flustered by the situation.

Dazai hopes the redhead takes the hint and realizes Dazai isn’t interested in him. He’s fairly certain he’d already made it painfully obvious to Chuuya that he is straight.

“Have you started to hallucinate!?” Chuuya shouts, grabbing Dazai’s bag and pulling him out of the oncoming traffic before the brunet gets driven over.

Dazai pouts, exaggerating his words when he says, “She was so beautiful! Tall—“ Unlike Chuuya. “—black-haired—“ Unlike Chuuya. “—and had massive breasts!” Unlike Chuuya. “She was my ideal type,” the brunet moans, making a show about mourning the loss of a beautiful lady he could’ve died with.

Chuuya rolls his eyes and proceeds to insult him, whatever he was about to tell Dazai long forgotten.

And Chuuya must’ve gotten the hint. The redhead can’t be so dense he doesn’t realize by now that Dazai doesn’t like him.

•
.

Chuuya is so dense, Dazai realizes, when the redhead is stumbling over his words two days later, trying to confess to Dazai, again.

“I- I- I, um-“ Chuuya tries, swallowing his words over and over again.

It’s a little fun to watch, Dazai admits, seeing the usually confident Chuuya stumbling over his words and struggling to figure out what to say to Dazai of all people. Usually he just yells. Or punches. Or both.

Now, Chuuya’s voice is quiet, and it makes Dazai feel… weird. He doesn’t want Chuuya’s feelings for him affecting their relationship. It’s the only solid, comfortable thing Dazai has in his life.

“Aye, aye” Dazai mocks, making his best pirate impression and effectively cutting off the redhead’s pathetic attempt at confessing. “Did chibi finally decide what he’s going to be when he grows up? A pirate!”

Chuuya kicks him hard enough to make Dazai stumble and nearly fall onto the ground. “Stop being an asshat, you dickhead,” the redhead growls, looking genuinely hurt.

Dazai swallows, his chest feeling funny because of the way Chuuya is looking at him. “Yeah…” Dazai breathes, his thoughts scrambling to form a sentence that doesn’t make Chuuya despise him. “What was I thinking. You’re never going to grow up!”

Chuuya punches him in the gut.

Next time the redhead finds the courage to speak up again, Chuuya doesn’t give him a warning. They’re at Chuuya’s house, doing homework, Dazai sprawled on the bed while the redhead sits crosslegged on the floor, seemingly deep in thought.

“I didn’t know there were physics equations so hard they could turn someone into a raisin,” Dazai states, mimicking Chuuya’s frowning expression.

The redhead frowns harder and glares at Dazai. The brunet is expecting a witty response. Or an insult. Or maybe a book flung into his face. What he doesn’t expect is for Chuuya to say, “I’m gay.”

A beat.

Another beat.

“Ah,” the brunet’s says in all of his intelligence, a litany of different reactions—’I know.’ ‘It’s obvious.’ ‘I’m not. I’m one hundred percent straight.’ ‘Why are you telling me this?’ ‘Hi Gay, I’m Dazai.’—all melting down on his tongue.

“And...” Chuuya continues, taking a deep breath.

Dazai wants to slap a hand over the redhead’s mouth. He wants to jump out of the window and pass out or, preferably, pass away. He knows what Chuuya’s going to say and it’s going to ruin their relationship—their friendship—and Dazai is going to end up all alone again-

“I think I like Shirase,” Chuuya confesses, nervously biting into his lip.

And all that comes out of Dazai’s mouth is, “Oh.” The brunet pauses, his heart sinking. “Oh.”

Chuuya looks at him expectantly, like he’s waiting for something more.

And yeah, Dazai realizes he should say something more, too. “Okay,” he says, and instantly wants to jump off the nearest bridge—more than he usually does, that is.

“Okay?” Chuuya asks, sounding irritated. “You don’t have anything more to add?”

“What do you want me to say?” Dazai asks in all of his sincerity, eyes slightly wide. He’s fairly certain he’s going to panic soon. Not because Chuuya confessed he likes him and ruined their friendship, but because Chuuya confessed he likes Shirase and Dazai feels like an idiot. Chuuya doesn’t like him.

“I don’t know,” Chuuya mutters. “You’re fine with it?” He asks. “Me liking… boys.”

And that is the last thing Dazai would be shocked about. He was so certain Chuuya liked him he never even stopped to think about the fact the redhead had never officially come out to him.

He realizes what an asshole he has been. Chuuya has been trying to come out to him multiple times already, and every time he has managed to gather the courage to tell him, Dazai’s been a piece of garbage about it.

“Yeah,” Dazai breathes, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady. “Yeah, I’m fine with it.”

He also realizes he might not be as fine with Chuuya liking Shirase as he’d like to be. Because he doesn’t realize why Chuuya still associates himself with his two friends from middle school who are obviously assholes—why he would ever like the gray haired teen.

“So…” the brunet continues. “Shirase?”

Chuuya swallows. “Uh, yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, his cheeks going pink.

Dazai has really been blind. Chuuya never liked him. He always liked Shirase. “He’s straight,” Dazai points out.

Chuuya’s lips press into a thin line as soon as the words leave Dazai’s mouth. “You can’t be sure,” he argues.

“But I can,” Dazai says. If the brunet is ninety-nine point nine percent straight, then Shirase is one hundred and one percent straight. And the said boy definitely likes Chuuya’s other middle school friend, fairy floss.

“You can’t,” Chuuya insists, headstrong as always. “He… might like boys…” Chuuya mutters, the confidence in his voice disappearing in a flash.

Dazai doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Chuuya and wonders why Chuuya likes Shirase. Why the redhead likes that idiot and not him.

“Uh… you’re straight, right?” Chuuya asks. Then he shakes his head, “Of course you are.”

So it seems the redhead is not, in fact, dense. That the dense one is Dazai. He’s also blind. And stupid. And-

“Have you ever… liked a guy? Or at least thought you could try dating one? You know, like, even a little bit? Tiniest tiniest bit?” Chuuya asks, drawing his knees to his chest and looking at Dazai expectantly.

’No’, Dazai thinks. “Yes,” he says.

Chuuya’s eyes brighten. “Really!? So! That means I might have a chance with him, right?”

And… and Dazai’s heart drops into his stomach. Because, he realizes, because he expected- he wanted Chuuya to like him.

“Then he might consider dating me, right? It’s not impossible he could like boys too, even a little?” Chuuya asks, his azure eyes sparkling like the ocean when sunlight casts its rays onto its surface.

And Dazai finds himself drowning. “Yeah,” he breathes, because he doesn’t want Chuuya to stop smiling. “It’s not.”

For the next few weeks—which feel like three whole eternities—Dazai is stuck listening to Chuuya gush about Shirase.

“His eyes are so fascinating.” “He’s so strong.” “Have you seen him playing soccer? He’s so cool.” “Remember the joke he told? It was-“ yada yada yada yadayadayada.

Dazai’s slowly been going insane listening to Chuuya talk about Shirase like he is a dreamy prince straight from a fairytale and not a smelly teenager who still thinks insulting girls will make them like him.

When it had become apparent Chuuya would not stop talking about Shitrase, Dazai had implemented his never-failing system of making it appear like he was actually listening. Meaning he repeated the phrases ‘What? Really?’ ‘That’s great.’ and ‘Keep going.’ while Chuuya would remain blissfully oblivious to the fact that Dazai was not listening to a word he had been saying.

The brunet had expected Chuuya to catch on sooner, but when the redhead finally realizes during week three that Dazai has not, in fact, been listening, Chuuya becomes angry at him for the first time in forever.

“Do you think I should just confess?” Chuuya asks.

“What? Really?” Dazai asks, completely unaware that Chuuya has directed a question at him.

“Yes, really. We’re graduating soon and I’d like to at least spend one summer with him to know if we’d be compatible,” Chuuya says, worrying his lip between his teeth.

Dazai eyes are strained on the way Chuuya’s bottom lip is glistening. “That’s great.”

“Yeah, but what if he doesn’t like me? I’m going to become a laughingstock with all of my middle school friends if he doesn’t like me! Maybe I should just tell them I’m gay, first,” Chuuya continues.

“Keep going,” Dazai urges, his thoughts filled with everything about Chuuya he’s found himself being fascinated about during the past few weeks. He still doesn’t think he likes men. It’s just that he likes a man. That he likes Chuuya.

Chuuya groans. “But, y’know, Shirase is a little bit of an ass, I can admit that even if I like him.”

“What? Really?” Dazai asks.

“Yeah. I know he seems like a great guy, but he has a mean side to him. It’s a little hot, so I don’t mind… But he’s definitely going to ask if I like one of them. If I like him. And what am I supposed to do then? Just confess?”

“That’s great,” the brunet says, but at this points the words leave his mouth on autopilot. After all, he has been busy counting the freckles on Chuuya’s cheeks.

“That’s not- Didn’t you say that just a moment ago? Oi, waste-of-bandages! Have you even listened to a word I’ve said?” Chuuya

“Keep going,” Dazai encourages, and Chuuya smacks him.

It startles Dazai out of his thoughts and his eyes finally focus on Chuuya’s azure ones. They’re flickering. He looks angry and hurt.

“Huh?” The brunet asks dumbly.

“Fuck you, Osamu,” Chuuya breathes, his words quiet.

The brunet knows it’s serious from the way Chuuya uses his given name. He refuses to acknowledge how the sound of it on Chuuya’s lips makes him feel. “I- uh, zoned out?”

Chuuya seems to be thinking about something—reminiscing about something. Then he huffs a breath. It’s downright livid, and Dazai knows Chuuya well enough to know the anger he’s feeling right now if stemming from the feelings of pain. “I thought you cared,” he whispers.

And Dazai realizes he should’ve switched up the three phrases he kept on repeating after the first week. “I do care,” he says quickly. Too quickly.

“Fuck you too, shithead,” Chuuya says before getting up and leaving.

Dazai had tried his best to be supportive. Meaning he had done his best not to be an ass. He’d let Chuuya like Shirase without trying to convince the redhead that the teen could never like him back (since the boy definitely, one-hundred percent, doesn’t like him romantically).

But… Dazai’s not so sure anymore. Because Chuuya is… so easy to like. Chuuya’s laugh is the sweetest sound in the world and it makes Dazai’s heart flutter to the point that he doesn’t find himself minding the fact Chuuya’d been talking about Shitrase.

But Dazai is selfish. He wants to gatekeep that sound to himself, as he would like to have all of Chuuya’s romantic feelings directed to him.

Now that he is being ignored by the redhead, Dazai’s feeling petty. So he sits next to Chuuya in class in spite of the redhead’s glare—that would make a weaker man (Shitrase) shit his pants.

“I just don’t get what’s so great about him,” Dazai admits, trying his best not to make a gagging sound.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Chuuya tsks. “You’re straight.”

Dazai hums, as if deep in thought, and then he says, “I’m not.”

“What?” Chuuya looks bewildered.

“Straight,” Dazai clarifies.

“I got that, bastard,” Chuuya growls. “But… didn’t you say- Weren’t you-“

“You assumed, Chuu~ya~” Dazai notes, dragging Chuuya’s name on his tongue, making it stretch.

That shuts the redhead up. His lips purse and his face goes red, embarrassed. “Sorry,” Chuuya mutters, his voice quiet.

“It’s fine,” Dazai says easily, waving his hand in dismissal. “I just don’t get what’s so great about that asshole,” the brunet continues, realizing he probably should’ve kept his mouth shut when the glare returns onto Chuuya’s face.

“You don’t even know him,” Chuuya reminds. “And you would know what’s ‘so great about him’ if you had been listening to a word I’ve said during these past weeks, humph.”

Chuuya doesn’t say a word to him for the rest of the day, even when Dazai does his best to tease and irritate a reaction out of him.

It’s two days later when they’re walking home from school—or, well, Chuuya is speed-walking towards his house while Dazai follows him—when Dazai tries to talk to the redhead again.

“Chuu~ya~ Don’t be mad! I’m not saying it’s wrong of you to like him. I’m just questioning your type, as any friend would,” Dazai insists, taking long steps to keep up with Chuuya’s pace.

“You’re not my friend,” Chuuya huffs, not even bothering to glance back to the taller teen following him.

“But chibi!” Dazai yells, mock-offended. “How could you say that!”

“Why do you even dislike him so much, huh!?” Chuuya asks, stopping and turning around to glare and point at Dazai.

The brunet nearly runs into him, barely avoiding being jabbed into the ribs. “He’s…” Dazai’s trails off. Chuuya was right about the fact he didn’t really know Shirase. “…in love with fairy floss.”

“What? Shirase is not in love with Yuan.” Chuuya looks like he’s been struck by a lighting—not because he’s shocked but because what came out of Dazai’s mouth was so utterly stupid. “They’re cousins.”

“Ah,” Dazai says, wisely.

“Just… why do you hate him? You- you know I like him. And… I thought you were supportive,” Chuuya mutters, biting his lip.

Dazai suppose Chuuya wouldn’t. Feel supported, that is. Because Dazai has been… a bad friend. “I don’t hate him, per se,” the brunet admits.

“Don’t lie,” the redhead snaps. “I know you fucking hate him. Just tell me why.”

“I-“ Dazai starts, a smile on his face, but the words get caught in his throat. “I- Um- Ah, Chuuya. You don’t understand,” he settles on.

“Understand what?” Chuuya asks, a scowl on his face.

Dazai thinks he’s beautiful. He comps through Chuuya’s orange locks with his fingers, eyes strained on how the soft texture flows between his knuckles. It earns him a frown from the redhead. “Chuuya,” Dazai breathes.

“Wha- a- at?” Chuuya asks, his voice cracking.

Dazai shifts closer, his eyes moving from Chuuya’s hair to the redhead’s azure eyes. They’re filled with confusion—expressive as always.

“What do I not understand?” Chuuya asks, sounding distressed. His fingers circle around Dazai’s wrist, but he doesn’t pull the brunet’s hand away from his hair. Not yet, at least.

Dazai’s hand moves to cup Chuuya’s face. The redhead’s breath hitches and his fingers tighten around Dazai’s wrist. “I’m jealous, simpleton,” Dazai whispers, like it’s a secret.

He lets his hand drop away from Chuuya’s cheek, the redhead’s fingers that had gone slack slipping off his bandaged wrist with the movement.

Dazai takes a step back, turning his face to look into the distance. He saw Chuuya’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t want to see his actual reaction. Chuuya has his emotions neon-printed on his face in capital letters, after all.

“You’re-“ Chuuya starts. He sounds confused. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Dazai.”

Dazai laughs, “I told you you wouldn’t.”

“Do you… like me?” Chuuya asks, like it’s the last thing he’d expected.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dazai clears his throat when his voice threatens to betray him. “You like Shirase.”

“Osamu…” Chuuya says softly, and Dazai decides that he actually would like to go home, right now. He has homework to do and a stupid essay to finish. And, well, if he gets hit by a truck on the way, that’d just be a bonus.

The brunet continues on walking, not daring to glance back at Chuuya, afraid to see the redhead’s face.

This time, it’s Chuuya running after him, trying to get his attention. “Dazai,” the redhead says, his voice firm now. “Osamu. Look at me,” he demands.

Dazai starts humming a song, singing the lyrics underneath his breath. “Woah, woah, yeah~ Shinju wa / Hitori de wa / Dekinai~”

“Osamu!” Chuuya shouts, grabbing Dazai’s shoulder in an iron grip—which Dazai’s fairly certain nearly shatters his bones—forcing the brunet to turn around.

“Woah~ woah~” Dazai singsongs. When he forces himself to look at Chuuya, the song dies on his lips. Chuuya… looks gobsmacked.

“…Osamu,” Chuuya repeats, having said the name more times in a single succession than he has during the last year. The redhead looks unsure and worried—but still flabbergasted. “I, uh-“

“I’m fine,” Dazai says, a plastic smile still on his face.

Chuuya’s face says he doesn’t believe the lie even for a second. “You’re crying.”

Dazai blinks and he realizes that, yes, indeed, there are tears clinging to his eyelashes. And considering the way they’re slowly trickling down and pooling at his chin, he must’ve been for more than a second.

“Osamu-“ Chuuya sighs, but this time it’s Dazai who cuts the redhead off and not Chuuya’s own hesitation.

“See you tomorrow,” Dazai says and bolts. He hates running—hates any physical exercise on the matter—but he doesn’t think that he is strong enough to hear what Chuuya has to say just yet.

Dazai does not see Chuuya tomorrow. Not because he decided to skip school but because it’s the weekend and the brunet has not left his room. Usually he bothers the redhead during the weekends, either by going to Chuuya’s or going to Chuuya’s through the window.

Today, well, he’s fairly certain Chuuya’d let him in through the door, so there’d be no need to climb through the window because the redhead ‘doesn’t want to be bothered’.

But… a part of Dazai is afraid that Chuuya wouldn’t let him in, after all—wouldn’t want to see him. He fears that if he manages to gather the courage to go see Chuuya, the redhead won’t only let him in but will also lock the window.

It’s ironic, really. How Dazai didn’t want Chuuya to ruin their friendship by having unrequited feelings for Dazai. Turns out it was the other way around, in the end.

The brunet chuckles, flopping down on bed and deciding there’s nothing worth doing.

It’s Sunday when Dazai finally manages to gather up the strength to roll over in his bed. He then finds himself facing the rapidly approaching hardwood floor. The brunet groans when he collides with the surface, having fallen off his bed. He bangs his head against the hardwood.

His door creaks open and Dazai finds his ten-year-old little sister staring at him. “What do you want?” He asks.

“You’re noisy,” Elise states. “Rintaro says to come eat dinner, since you’re home.”

“Tell Mori I’m not coming,” Dazai cringes, rolling on the floor so his back is facing the door.

“He said he’s going to stick a tube into your mouth and force-feed you if you won’t come,” Elise continues, her voice far too chilling for a ten-year-old.

“He can try,” Dazai mutters.

Elise slams the door shut and Dazai can hear her yell, “Dazai’s being stupid again!”

The brunet groans, getting up from the floor and quietly skidding towards the window in his room. He grabs whatever shoes he happens to have lying about before lifting up the glass pane and making his brilliant escape by falling into the bush below his window.

That’s how Dazai finds himself sitting across the street from Chuuya’s house. He’s not sure what his purpose coming here is, but what he does know is that he desperately wants for Chuuya to like him back. Yet, he knows that’ll never happen if he keeps wallowing in his misery.

The brunet’s still simply staring at Chuuya’s house when a car pulls into the driveway. It’s Kouyou, Chuuya’s older sister.

“Dazai,” she calls, having noticed him instantaneously, sitting in front of her house like a fool. “Where’s your coat? You shouldn’t be sitting there in this weather. Come in.”

Dazai would like to stay rooted to the sidewalk, but because his blood hasn’t turned into concrete just yet and because Kouyou is… intimidating, his feet carry him to the other side of the street.

“Didn’t see you here yesterday,” she says while unlocking the front door.

“I had… things to do,” Dazai lies, flashing her a smile. He’s at Chuuya’s house so often he supposes it’s weirder for him not to be around.

“Things okay at home?” She asks, and he catches a little bit of hesitation in her voice. She’s never outright asked about his home life, but she must suspect something—what, Dazai doesn’t know—since he spends more time at their house than at his own.

“Yeah,” Dazai answers. It’s truthful enough. Things are okay.

She nods, heading deeper into the house and leaving Dazai standing in the hall. She knows he knows his way around the house, and since the brunet’s such a regular sight around, she knows he won’t do anything stupid.

Well, he’d like to do Chuuya, who is quite stupid.

Dazai chuckles to himself, finding himself opening the door of Chuuya’s room before he even realizes he has no idea what to say, what to do, or even why he’s here in the first place.

Chuuya’s head snaps around instantly when he hears the door opening. He’s sitting at his desk, hair pulled into a high bun, the loose T-shirt he’s wearing slipping off one shoulder, and his legs very bare as he’s only wearing a pair of shorts.

There’s also a stupid grin on his face, and for some reason it’s the one thing that makes Dazai’s throat go dry.

“Oh,” Chuuya blurts, his eyebrows rising and the grin on his face turning into a soft smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Dazai parrots, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him instead of awkwardly standing in the doorway.

“Where were you yesterday?” Chuuya inquires. He’s acting like everything’s normal, like they never had that awkward conversation which was basically a confession on Dazai’s part.

…Oh.

That’s how it is, then. This is how Chuuya’s choosing to act. Like it never happened.

Dazai shrugs, “At home.” He sits down on Chuuya’s bed.

The redhead turns in his chair to face him. “Osamu—“ he starts.

And okay. Okay, fuck. They are definitely not acting like it never happened.

“—it does matter,” Chuuya says. His voice is soft again. Dazai likes it. The way Chuuya’s voice sounds when he isn’t annoyed or angry. He likes Chuuya.

And he has no idea what the redhead is talking about. “Huh?”

Chuuya sighs, getting up from his chair and flopping down on the bed beside Dazai. He lies down on his back. “I don’t want to… assume again,” the redhead admits.

There’s a lump in Dazai’s throat. He doesn’t look behind him because, although Chuuya is beautiful and a blessing-to-the-eyeballs, Dazai’s uncertain he’ll be able to control his emotions—scared he’ll burst out in tears again if he sees the redhead’s face.

Chuuya’s asking him to confess again. Well, he’s asking that Dazai actually confesses. Just so he can reject him properly, without a doubt.

And that’s- “That’s cruel, Chuuya,” Dazai whispers. “It’s- You know already. That I…” The brunet trails off. “But you don’t like me.”

Chuuya hugs his middle, wrapping his arms around Dazai’s waist. “But I do like you.”

“Not like-! Not like that,” Dazai stresses.

Chuuya’s hands around him tighten. “Who’s assuming now,” he murmurs into Dazai’s back.

The brunet’s body twists around. He turns his head down to look at Chuuya, eyes wide. “You said- You like Shirase.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Chuuya laughs. He has the audacity to laugh. He turns his head and looks at Dazai. He’s smiling. The stupid grin is back on his face.

Dazai’s stomach drops. He supposes that’s just how much Chuuya likes the other teen-

“I liked you first. Like that,” Chuuya confesses.

“Huh?” Dazai blurts out, his brain short-circuiting because he is certain his hearing must’ve been damaged.

“I- uh, actually, I was happy when you- when you acted like that. Jealous, you know,” Chuuya declares, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

Dazai gapes.

“I didn’t know it would be possible for you to like me, Osamu.” Chuuya takes a deep breath, his cheeks turning redder. “I realized I was projecting my feelings onto Shirase because I thought you would never like me back.”

“I do. Like you. I like you, Chuuya,” Dazai nearly exclaims, staring at the redhead’s azure eyes like he’s never looked into them before.

“Yeah. I realized.” Chuuya smiles, and it’s the most brilliant smile Dazai has seen. His heart skips a beat. The redhead continues, “I thought it was impossible, so when it became possible, I was just… happy.”

Dazai nods. ’Happiness looks good on you,’ he thinks. He can barely breathe underneath the assault of Chuuya’s smile. But- how can Chuuya like him?

“I- I uh… I realized the reason why I was talking about Shirase like he was the greatest person I had ever met to your face was because I was being petty,” Chuuya confesses, clearly embarrassed. “I wanted to show you—myself—that I had moved on. And I… I desperately wanted Shirase to like me because I wanted someone to like me.”

Dazai nods, a lump in his throat preventing him from speaking.

“Even- even when you said you could like boys, I didn’t realize that meant I could have a chance with you.” When a door which was locked shut suddenly opens, unexpected feelings would undoubtedly sprout out. Because just as suddenly, hope was allowed. “After all, it’s been a long time since I convinced myself I like Shirase,” Chuuya chuckles.

“How- how long?” Dazai asks. He’s unable to move, like someone truly did pour concrete into his veins. His heart is beating too fast, and he can barely hear his own words underneath the rush of blood.

“Since the summer between our first and second year,” Chuuya admits.

And- and that is a long time. They’re sannensei now, which means Chuuya has liked him since more than a year ago. That he deemed his feelings for Dazai unrequited over a year ago and decided to like Shirase instead.

“I like you, Osamu,” Chuuya professes. “I never liked Shirase,” he promises with a laugh on his lips, like he can’t quite believe it himself either—that, just a few days ago, he was still convinced he really, really did like the grey haired teen.

“I don’t believe you,” Dazai breathes, shocked. His brain is certain this must be a one massive joke Chuuya’s playing on him. But then again-

Dazai was certain Chuuya liked him. All the signs were there. He just failed to take into account the fact that Chuuya was apparently projecting the feeling he does have for him onto Shitrase.

He failed to take into account that Chuuya had probably been just as scared of ruining their friendship as Dazai. He failed to realize Chuuya hates mental suffering just as much as Dazai hates physical pain. He forgot the redhead took other people’s feeling into account instead of blurting out what he thought, unlike with his actions where the consequences were damned.

“You should believe me,” Chuuya says, sitting up. His body is pressed against Dazai’s. His breath fans on Dazai’s cheek, and the brunet’s breath is caught in his throat.

Chuuya grabs his chin so that they’re facing each other, eyes locked and lips inches apart. There’s unwavering certainty in Chuuya’s azure eyes, but his body language is telling the brunet he’s nervous.

“You should believe me,” Chuuya repeats. He then closes his eyes and kisses Dazai.

Chuuya’s lips are soft when they meet his, and the way they’re slightly wet from the redhead having bitten on them makes Dazai swallow. He finds himself able to move again, and he places his hand onto Chuuya’s waist, holding the redhead closer.

The kiss ends too soon, but the way Chuuya’s eyes sparkle make the brunet feel like this won’t be their only kiss. If it’s up to him, it definitely won’t be.

Dazai’s staring at the redhead like an idiot. He might be one, he realizes, but if he is an idiot, that makes Chuuya an even bigger idiot. They’re both idiots, but Chuuya’s at least two times the idiot Dazai is.

“You didn’t take your shoes off,” Chuuya points out, wrinkling his nose and giving Dazai’s shoes—which he’s wearing inside the house Kouyou meticulously keeps clean—a look.

“I forgot,” Dazai laughs, a grin on his face.

Chuuya shakes his head. “You’re stupid.”

Dazai smiles. “I know.” He may be a genius, but when it comes to Chuuya, he’ll never stop being an idiot.

•
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[END]