Chapter Text
There was only one person Nakahara Chuuya genuinely couldn't stand. No matter the place, the time, the condition of the weather—he swore to himself that he will forever dislike this man with every ounce of resent that resides within his being.
"Dazai!"
The brunette glanced over his shoulder as though he hadn't just been called from the other end of the hallway.
"Hm? Oh, it's you." That shit eating grin would probably be Chuuya's cause of death a few weeks from now. No, days. Maybe even hours.
"You stole my lunch again!"
Dazai's ears perked up, his gaze narrowing with amusement as he turned his back towards the redhead. "Ah, yes. Well, I was starving. PE class took a whole lot out of me, you know?"
"That was my food!"
"Non, non. It was our food." He corrected, rather incorrectly. If that even made any sense.
Not only that, Chuuya noticed more than anyone—the way a certain brunette used French to spite him more than he's supposed to. Well, he doesn't really have a limit either.
"Our? The hell are you talkin' about?" The redhead clenched his fist, pointing it towards Dazai with an exasperated expression mixed with fury.
"Our food. Haven't you heard? Sharing is caring."
Chuuya was going to kill him.
No—he'd been going to kill him since the first week of freshman year, when Dazai Osamu decided that irritating him was the funniest pastime known to man.
Every morning, there was something.
His chair disappeared.
His pen went missing.
Someone had tied his shoelaces together.
The back of his notebook was mysteriously filled with doodles of things that can be only thought of by a boy in his fourth year of highschool.
Dazai always denied it with the same innocent smile, making it harder for Chuuya to just land a hit directly on his ridiculously sharp features.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
He shrugged, looking at the redhead as if his accusation was completely baseless—ignoring the paper that contained a rather bold message like "Dazai's dog" stuck to the surface of his locker.
"Liar. There is no one else who would have the guts to fuck around like this other than you, shithead!"
"Hm, a big claim from a little—" Dazai decided to stop before Chuuya's clenched fist would initiate contact with any of his vitals.
"Well, then. Can you prove it?"
The shorter male stayed silent. He opened his mouth to try and say something, maybe a half-assed retort—although, nothing managed to slip out.
"No, right? That's unfortunate." Dazai places a hand atop his shoulder. Despite his cruelty, his touch was oddly gentle. Chuuya knew better than to complain or openly raise a suspicion.
Still, Chuuya knew he hated him.
He hated that stupid grin.
He hated the bandages.
He hated how everyone somehow found Dazai charming despite the fact that he was clearly a menace to society. To him, most of the time.
Lastly, what made the biggest deal of all—the way he addresses Chuuya with an extremely stupid nickname.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Chibi."
"Quit callin' me that, you son of a—"
...
By the time Chuuya got home, his social battery was nonexistent. Every ounce of his time and energy was divided into several parts.
A few for his academics.
A few for his friends.
A whole lot for Dazai and his antics.
He tossed his bag onto the floor, changed into an oversized hoodie, before collapsing into his desk chair with a sigh.
Computer on.
Discord open.
A familiar, welcome and most awaited notification appeared almost instantly.
From Shuuji. Even his name itself caused something inside him to stir.
Shuuji, his online friend—they met eachother 3 years ago right after he started freshman year. They've gone a long way, considering how most online relationships die pretty quickly.
He wasn't sure if the other man from behind the screen knew this, but Chuuya cared deeply for his online companion.
Even if they only ever bond through playing games or watching shows together through calls, he still managed to crawl into the redhead's... heart.
Yes. It was embarrassing to admit, but he had a crush on Shuuji. Someone he knows nothing of in terms of personal identity.
Everytime he's reminded of this crush, their relationship suddenly feels shallow.
Shuuji (nolongrhuman_)
« you're lateee ╯︵╰ »
Chuuya smiled before he even realized he was smiling. Damn. He's whipped.
Baki, his online persona. He knew better than to go around the internet revealing personal details.
Chuuya made an oath to completely separate his personal and online line after a certain incident a few years back. Jeez, fuck pedos on the internet.
Baki (ta1ntedsorrow)
« HAD TO DEAL W AN IDIOT ALL DAY BRUHH »
Shuuji (nolongrhuman_)
« sounds tragic »
Shuuji (nolongrhuman_)
« you really hate this guy, huh? »
Baki (ta1ntedsorrow)
« you have NO idea. this guy js pmo »
Shuuji (nolongrhuman_)
« tell me about him »
Chuuya rested his chin on his hand as his fingers flew across the keyboard. He made a promise to himself, sure—but he trusted Shuuji enough to tell him about certain bits of his life. Mostly about that prick.
Baki (ta1ntedsorrow)
« remember that guy from my class »
« bru hes the biggest chud i've ever met »
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then appeared again.
What could possibly be taking him so long to respond? Was he laughing his ass off at his predicament or something?
Shuuji (nolongrhuman_)
« maybe he's secretly in love with you＾3 ＾»
Chuuya snorted, the thought desperately clawed at him in a way that made him want to crawl into the nearest cave and end it.
Baki (ta1ntedsorrow)
« FUCK NO i'd rather uninstall life »
...
On the other side of the city, a certain brunette laughed loud enough for his headphones to slip off.
He adjusted them, grinning to himself before typing back.
Nights where it was just him and his friend through a screen inside his dimly lit room introduced itself as special moments to him.
Shuuji (nolongrhuman_)
« harsh ･ั﹏･ั »
The only difference between them is that he knew exactly who Chuuya was talking about.
He always did.
What Chuuya didn't know was that,
Shuuji, his crush—and Dazai Osamu, the annoying prick—were the same person.