Chapter Text
author note: hi sorry havent posted here in a hot minute. got bored on a plane, here u go. was studying economics, if you couldn't tell.
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dazai pov
I honestly don't remember when I started feeling this way. When I started feeling like those annoying orange curls could actually be kind of.. beautiful?
The way they seemed to wrestle in the wind, and that no matter how hard they fought, the wind would always emerge victorious.
Maybe I should see a therapist.
Maybe.
Thinking these thoughts about that boy, or any boy, is out of the question. That's my rival. Not someone I should be thinking about this much, and certainly not thinking about what brand his sandalwood cologne must be. Or if he's gay.
I know I am, but it's still a bit awkward to say out loud. My focus should be high school, not this whirlwind romance I lay awake thinking about.
But every time I tell myself to stop thinking about Chuuya Nakahara, my mind just drifts back to him. About how his freckles seem to kiss his face in ways most people in our year only dream about. Or how his hair can be either wildly untamed or slicked back into a nice ponytail, or braid. Either looks beautiful on him.
Stop it.
Or maybe how his eyes, blue and brown, seem to captivate everyone.
He should consider being a model; I'm sure everyone would pay lots to see his face all over the city.
I know I would.
Okay, right where was I?
Economics.
Microeconomics test tomorrow.
Something about the law of demand, and something else about determinants.
And something else about how Chuuya's face would look so beautifully angry if I beat him at that test. He would scream and probably punch someone, and I'd get to see the sight of a line of blood dripping down his face in a captivating manner.
Holy fuck, Osamu, get your shit together. This is Economics study time, not fantasize about someone who hates your guts time.
I turn my head to the clock: 10:34 pm.
I have maybe 30 minutes left until I need to sleep. Need to get up at 5, so I don't miss the bus again.
Ringing.
Who the hell dares to call someone at this hour?
Let alone me?
I reject the call without even looking at who it was.
Ringing.
I answer the call and hear a scream, one that is all too familiar.
"Fucking idiot, how dare you reject a call from me?!" I toss my phone onto the desk as my ears are harshly attacked by the brutal reality of what Chuuya and I are.
Rivals.
Not friends.
Not even close to lovers or some situationship that authors write novels about.
"How did you get my number?" I state, bringing the phone back up to my ear cautiously, in case he screams again.
There is no response.
"Hellooooo Earth to Chuuyaaaa~" I say, giggling a little bit at the fact he hasn't screamed at me yet.
"I heard you loud and clear, commander idiot. Just didn't want to trace your ears with a reply."
"Awww, you think so highly of my ears to know they don't want to be cursed by the ridicule of someone under 5'5!"
I hear him grunting and trying his hardest to remain composed.
"Soooo, my dear slug, why did you feel the need to disturb me?"
"Econ."
"Yesss? What about it? Don't tell me you're panicking!~"
"What?!? I would never. Just wanted to tell, no,... uh, ask.Yeah,... ask. If you could come over to review with me right now....?" He sighs as he states this, and I can't help but chuckle at the thought of Chuuya struggling over this.
"Don't you dare fucking laugh, I'm being nice and trying to help you for God's sake!"
I sigh dramatically and state, "Well, maybe, but it's sooooo late, my parents would get mad if I came home at 12 or some crazy hour like-"
"So just stay the night?? Are you that dense. Get clothes, a toothbrush and those god awful bandages and be here in 20 minutes. If you're a minute late I won't open the door for you."
And with that, the rage lord himself hung up
on me.
"You could at least have told me your addresss idiot."
And as if he was reading my mind, my phone lit up with a message request
Chuuya Nakahara
9073 Turnip Place. Green house. Shouldn't be hard for your blind ass to see.
Dazai Osamu
K. Don't shrink more b4 I get there!~
dazai osamu has changed chuuya nakahara's name to sluggish moron.
Sluggish Moron
What the fuck?! What the hell did I ever do to you.
sluggish moron has changed dazai osamu's name to fishy idiot
Fishy Idiot
So you do know how to have fun, thought you were just a dense idiot~.
Turns out the slug actually has a heart.
Sluggish Moron
Hurry up and get here. 15 minutes.
Dazai chuckles to himself as he puts a pair of pajamas and clothes in his backpack and walks out of his room and over to his parents. "Hey. Going to a friends house to sleep. Will be home afterschool tomorrow."
He is met with an obnoxious moan, which he takes as permission to leave.
As he laces his shoes, Dazai begins to ponder what made Chuuya, the guy infamous for turning down any group study opportunity, ask him to study with him, at his house of all places.
Dazai opens the map on his phone and puts in Chuuya's address.
10 minute walk.
Dazai never knew that Chuuya lived so close to him.
Maybe they could hangout more often.
Who was he kidding, Chuuya has his friends and Dazai well,
has himself.
Well Mori always says that you are your own best company. And Fukuzawa, well he's just a man of few words.
As Dazai walks the few blocks to Chuuya's house, he notices how the moon seems to coat the trees and everything under it in such a beautiful way, and he wonders how Chuuya's curls would look under the moonlight. If they would still seem so obnoxiously vibrant, or would cool off in the darkness, like dipping your feet in the ocean and just letting the sound of the waves drift your mind away from all the worries one might have.
Dazai wonders if Chuuya likes the beach, or if maybe he can't swim. He's short after all. Yea, it's normal to think of people and wonder things like that, and to imagine a smile plastered upon their face to the feeling of maybe, just maybe, their hands being intertwined.
That's definitely normal.
And Dazai definelty hates Chuuya.
Before Dazai can drift further, reality pulls him back in as he finds himself in front of a moss green house. It really was a beautiful house, quite big. With a bay window that seemed to just glimmer from the dim lights nearby.
Fuck Osamu, you need to be a normal person and knock at a door and not just stare at peoples houses.
Dazai sighs and takes a few steps forward and lightly rings the doorbell of Chuuya's house, as though touching it too harshly would wake him from this dream.
He hears footsteps rushing down stairs and someone scream "Fuck!".
Chuuya opens the door, and Dazai feels as though life because there is Chuuya Nakahara, opening the door for him.
Chuuya Nakahara, a boy wearing a red oversized shirt, with a design and text Dazai just can't process in that moment. Wearing plaid boxers that surprisingly, don't clash with the shirt. His ginger curls were put into a messy bun, with any missed hair caressing his neck, face and shoulders. In the dim light of Chuuya's porch, his freckles shone better than anything else. He can tell that Chuuya is trying to talk to him,
he grabs his wrist and jolts him inside, but all Dazai can think about is how his heart seems to be jumping out of his chest as that short idiot's fingers wrap about his wrist.
Fuck. Dazai thought. I might be screwed.