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Despite his initial misgivings, the new apartment was perfect. Not only was it in a great area, but he had also become very good friends with the people who worked in the flower shop downstairs. Kunikida-san and Atsushi-kun were both friendly had an admirable work ethic - something which Chuuya greatly respected. They often bonded over tea and Chuuya had taken to stopping by in the mornings to share a few friendly words with them. Within a few weeks, Chuuya had completely settled in and prepared to enjoy his new life immensely.
That is, until he walked into the shop one day to greet his friends before work as usual and was assaulted by the most nauseating smell he had ever encountered. Gagging, Chuuya made his way towards the counter where he was acknowledged with a curt nod by a rather harried looking Kunikida.
"Sorry about the smell, Chuuya-san. Our new assistant manager ordered some corpse flowers without anyone knowing - goodness knows why he decided to order them in the first place." Kunikida made a vague arm gesture towards the large purple flower which was exuding a putrid scent. "That's not even the worst of it; he's completely disappeared off the radar and no one has been able to contact him to tell him that the flowers have arrived. I had to send Atsushi-kun home because he looked like he was about to faint from the smell."
At that precise moment, the shop bell jingled and a man waltzed in with a large smile on his face.
"Kunikida-kun!! Oh! I see the flowers have arrived, aren't they beautiful? I knew everyone would love them!" The first thing Chuuya noticed about the man was the copious amount of bandages wrapped around the man; had he been in some sort of grave accident perhaps? Chuuya thought it would be impolite to ask.
"Dazai, where the hell have you been? And what in the world possessed you to order seven crates of corpse flowers? Did you even get them through legal means?"
"Ooohh!! A customer?" The man - Dazai, Chuuya corrected himself - ignored his colleague and turned the full force of his blinding smile on Chuuya. Chuuya blamed the overpowering stench of the flowers for the sudden urge to swoon. "And how may I help you today?"
As he spoke, Dazai bent down until he was level with Chuuya's face and suddenly all good feelings Chuuya may have felt towards this man evaporated. How dare this skyscraper sized man come in here and mock his height?! 5 foot 3 was a perfectly acceptable and normal height thank you very much! Anyone taller than that was just too tall! Chuuya gave Dazai his best glare (annoyingly, Dazai seemed amused rather than afraid), before wishing Kunikida well and leaving the shop. It seemed that all his plans for a quiet life free of rage had just disappeared.
The rest of the week passed by relatively uneventfully much to Chuuya’s relief. He saw relatively little of Dazai; the man in question seemed to be preoccupied with his own job (and quite rightly so, thought Chuuya). He was starting to wonder if he had overreacted to the whole ordeal and was actually starting to feel a little bit guilty. Surely Dazai wasn’t that bad? He continued to convince himself of Dazai’s merits (the only thing he could come up with was Dazai’s irritatingly nice face) as he entered the flower shop to buy flowers for Kouyou’s birthday. He had invited her over for a nice relaxing afternoon with tea and to give them a chance to catch up with each other. They hadn’t had properly talked in a long time and Chuuya missed his best friend very much.
The moment he entered the shop, Chuuya was bewildered at the transformation which had occurred inside. He briefly wondered if he should step outside and check if the shop he had entered was indeed the flower shop under his apartment before he saw Atsushi watering a vase of... dandelions? And were those garlic bulbs floating in the tub next to it?
"Ahh!! Chuuya-san! I haven't seen you in a while! I'm so glad to see you're doing well!" Atsushi waved Chuuya over happily before putting down the watering can. "Sorry about the mess, Dazai-san wanted to renovate and reinvent the shop aesthetic but no one is quite sure what he's trying to do! We've just stacked everything he ordered over there, plants and all. Kunikida-san looked ready to blow a fuse when everything just turned up yesterday."
Chuuya sent a quick prayer up for Kunikida before curiosity got the better of him. He had never even seen a lot of the plant species at the back of the shop before.
"Hey, Atsushi-kun, do you mind if I look through the plants which Dazai ordered?"
"Yes, of course! Make yourself at home!"
Chuuya carefully made his way through the shop. Thankfully the corpse flower (and the odour accompanying it) had been removed, although in its place, there were many beautiful flowers which caught his eye. Chuuya grudgingly conceded that Dazai was very good at decorating.
The plants at the back of the shop were even more incredible. In his excitement, Chuuya reached out to pick up a vibrant twisted red and yellow flower before a low voice murmured in his ear, "Nosy are we?"
In his defence, Chuuya was extremely startled and no he did not scream, it was more like a manly battlecry which happened to sound like a shriek. To his chagrin, he lost his balance as he turned around to confront his attacker and fell backwards amongst the plants.
This is it. Chuuya thought. This is how I die; buried alive by plants and buckets as I tried to buy flowers for Kouyou-san.
He could almost see the inscription on his gravestone. Nakahara Chuuya, killed by plants so that he may be broken down in the earth to become fertiliser for them.
It took a few seconds for him to collect himself and then he sat up so quickly that he became dizzy. The sunlight filtering through the window of the shop lit up the pollen so that it fell around him like yellow snow.
Dazai - that shit - was doubled over with laughter. The only thing merciful about the situation was that Chuuya’s hat had escaped somewhat unscathed save for the light sprinkling of golden dust coating the surface. As regally as possible, Chuuya restored his hat to its previous position and dusted himself down. His face felt very warm and he willed down the blush on his face before opening before opening his mouth, fully prepared to give his tormentor the dressing down of a lifetime. All that came out was a very kittenish sneeze. This and the fact that the blush on his face refused to go away only served to make Chuuya angrier. But first he had to stop this incessant sneezing. What was happening? Dazai was laughing so hard that he was wheezing and Chuuya himself was also very short of breath but for an entirely different reason.
“Chuuya-san! What happened? Your face is swelling up!” Atsushi cried, hovering over his friend anxiously. “I’m going to call an ambulance, please hang in there!”
Chuuya ran his hand over his face only to find what he had initially thought was a blush was actually a rash which was spreading across his face. He tried to call out to Atsushi to not overreact but his sneezing fit just would not stop dammit and it looked like Atsushi was already on the phone. Giving in to the ridiculous situation, Chuuya sighed and pulled out his phone to text Kouyou not to come over that day.
“If you were able to find out about an allergy thanks to this Dazai person you’ve been ranting about for the past hour or so, shouldn’t you be grateful rather than angry?” Kouyou set down her cup, looking rather confused.
“Absolutely not,” said Chuuya looking rather affronted. “I didn’t even find out which flower is was, all I knew was that it was one of the ones Dazai ordered in and it was all Dazai’s fault in the first place. He has ruined all hopes I had for a quiet and happy life in this apartment and I will never forgive him.”
“Why don’t you just move somewhere else?”
“I was here first! Why do I have to move? Why can’t they get rid of Dazai and then everyone will be happy? Dazai and his flowers have got to go.” He took another sip of his tea before continuing his tirade. “And another thing. Have I told you about how awful he is?”
“Yes, Chuuya. You haven’t stopped talking about him since I arrived.”
Chuuya looked rather thrown for a second before he recovered. “Well… Let me tell you about him anyway so you know how completely and utterly trashy he is. He might have a nice face, but let me tell you, he’s as shitty as he is pretty.”
Kouyou silently resigned herself to listening to Chuuya’s complaining for the remainder of her visit.
Chuuya had had enough. All of his friends were avoiding him for fear of being trapped in a never ending monologue about awful the new assistant manager in the flower shop below his house was, he had become exceedingly paranoid every time he entered the shop in case his allergy happened again and his kettle had broken that morning. Everything was Dazai’s fault. And thus, having reached the limits of his patience, he resolved to confront Dazai and resolve this conflict once and for all.
He lurked outside the shop all day (to both his and Kunikida’s annoyance, Dazai did not turn up) and was about to call it a day when the man himself came bounding around the corner almost knocking Chuuya over.
“Whoops sorry about that! But you’re so short that I didn’t see you!” Dazai said happily.
Chuuya took a deep breath and was determined to discuss this matter as calmly as he could.
“Listen up, you bandaged fuck,” he snarled. “I’ve had it with your awful flowers and you need to get rid of them. I can’t even enter the shop without feeling the urge to sneeze and it’s all your fault.”
Well. That could have gone a lot better. On the other hand, at least he seemed to have gotten somewhere. Dazai looked scandalised that someone had insulted his beloved plants.
“You can’t just expect a business to get rid of its stock because of the needs of one customer! That’s not how capitalism works! No way!”
“Ok fine! If you won’t get rid of them, then I suppose I have no choice but to write a letter of complaint to your manager explaining the difficulties your renovation has caused me. Maybe, I’ll ask Kunikida-san to help me with it and we can see if he has anything about your conduct at work to contribute to the letter!”
There was a pregnant pause before Dazai narrowed his eyes at Chuuya.
“I do not like you. You’re annoying.”
“I’m glad the feeling is mutual,” said Chuuya.
“But!” Dazai continued as if Chuuya had not said anything. “I am willing to compromise. I will help you find out which flower you are allergic to and will no longer stock it.” Chuuya opened his mouth to reply and Dazai pressed on quickly. “In return, you can pay me back in small favours. There, how does that sound?”
Chuuya mulled over the deal. He doubted that he would be able to dispute the terms and to be honest, as long as they stopped stocking that particular species… (Chuuya had been unable to open his window in weeks because of the delivery van carrying lethal amounts of pollen.)
“It’s a deal,” he said. “However-”
“Great!” said Dazai. “In that case, I can try and help you right now, give me a second!”
Dazai disappeared into the shop to Chuuya’s annoyance. He had wanted to ask what Dazai had meant by “small favours”. He hoped that it wasn’t anything like body disposal.
In a second, Dazai was back, pressing a bouquet of… something into Chuuya’s hands.
“Here you go! Luckily for you, this one was already made up!”
Chuuya turned his distrustful gaze from Dazai’s expectant expression to the bouquet in his hands.
“Oi, Dazai. Why have you given me a bouquet of grass? What the hell? What kind of florist-”
“I was just making sure it wasn’t hayfever. And at least I tried! I have to run for today but you can meet me at the park tomorrow! You can pay me back by distracting Kunikida-kun while I make my escape. I haven’t done my paperwork today, you see!”
“Wait a minute, you still haven’t helped me find the right flower yet. Come back!”
Kunikida burst through the shop door a few seconds later.
“Where did he go, Chuuya-san? Where is that bandaged maniac?”
Chuuya silently pointed in the direction where Dazai had run off to.
The two of them quickly fell into a routine. Every afternoon, they would meet at the park and Dazai would present Chuuya with a bouquet of bizarre looking flowers which Chuuya had never seen before. They had decided that the best thing to do would be to systematically go through each of the flowers Dazai had ordered and were in the shop at the time of Chuuya’s accident.
Chuuya had briefly wondered how Dazai had managed to order 37 different varieties of flower in the middle of winter and had quickly come to the conclusion that Dazai must be involved in some sort of underground flower black market.
He was still toying with the theory as he walked past the flower shop on his way to the office as always and almost missed Atsushi shouting his name. When he turned around, he was taken aback to see Atsushi running towards him with a bouquet of flowers in his arms.
Chuuya blurted out the first thing on his mind. “I’m sorry. I’m not interested in dating at the moment. I mean, eventually when and if I meet the right person then I would like to give it a try but as things stand, I only see you as a friend, Atsushi-kun and I hope you’ll accept my apolo-”
“These are from Dazai-san!” shouted Atsushi, trying to cut through Chuuya’s flustered babbling and inadvertently attracting the attention of a few startled commuters. He winced and lowered his voice. “Sorry. Dazai-san is busy today so he couldn’t give them to you himself but he made up this bouquet anyway.”
Chuuya took the flowers and gave them a cautious sniff. Nothing.
“Where is he anyway?” he asked.
Atsushi bit his lip. “His friend was killed in an accident last night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dazai-san that distressed. Odasaku-san must have been very special to him.”
Chuuya fiddled with the wrapping on the flowers as he tried to think of something to say.
“Tell him,” he managed eventually. “Tell him that I’m very sorry for his loss and that if he ever wants to talk about it with someone, I can listen if he likes. Also, what sort of flowers are suitable for a funeral?” The last part came out in a rather embarrassed mumble but Atsushi seemed to have heard him anyway (judging by the smile on his face). “He’s still a shit though,” Chuuya hurriedly added as he tried to hide the blush on his face.
“Chuuya-kun, you seem to be much happier than the last time I saw you.” Kouyou looked over her friend with a critical eye. Her gaze lingered on the bouquets of flowers arranged all around the house and she hid a smile behind her hand. “Could it be that you’ve met someone?”
Chuuya choked on his tea and Kouyou had to pat him on the back several times to help him.
“No, what makes you think that?” Chuuya asked, after he recovered.
Kouyou only smiled and did not reply. It was only after she left that he realised that he had met someone - if only it was in the loosest sense of those words. Dazai had proven to be quite an interesting person to interact with, even if he had annoyed Chuuya immensely to begin with. Despite the happy exterior, he had deduced that Dazai had very little friends and Chuuya could not help but feel rather sorry for him.
Although some favours asked of him were rather ludicrous (Chuuya~ Be my wingman while I try to pick up that lady over there!) , most of the favours were reasonable, although they only served to highlight Dazai’s loneliness (Chuuya! There’s a new coffeeshop that just opened down the block! Please come with me!).
Dazai had been even more affectionate than ever after Chuuya’s awkwardly wrapped flowers (Atsushi had offered to help but Chuuya wanted the gifts to be from him and he was not going to be beaten by a piece of ribbon and some coloured plastic sheets goddamit). It was nice if he was being honest with himself. And so what if Kouyou was right and maybe Chuuya did have a little, tiny crush on a certain bandaged florist? That didn’t mean anything at all.
Chuuya smiled at the bouquet of pale pink arbutus he had received from Dazai that morning and in that moment, he decided that even if nothing could come of it, just having Dazai as a friend would be very nice.
“Goodness gracious, Chuuya-san! You look terrible! Should you be in today?”
Chuuya opened his mouth to reply with the affirmative but all that came out was a rather pained sounding croak. “Tachihara-kun,” he rasped. “I’m dying.”
“Chuuya-san, you should go home and rest! You must have caught whatever is going around. You have to be careful when it’s getting cold.”
“No,” said Chuuya, stubbornly. “I absolutely must get this paperwork to the boss today. Mori-san will have my head if these are late.”
“We can handle that! Just give those papers to me and go home.”
There was a scuffle as Tachihara attempted to wrestle the papers from Chuuya’s iron grip before eventually, he emerged victorious.
“Aha! I’ve won!”
Chuuya made a wild grab for the papers, only to double over coughing. “Ok,” he choked out in between coughs. “Ok, I’ll go home for today.” He peeled himself off the floor and turned to leave, before adding as an afterthought, “Do not call Kouyou.”
Kouyou was a very dear friend and lovely, but she could also be very smothering with her affection, especially when it came to Chuuya’s health. He could barely remember the journey back. The cold chilled his already shivering body and he was so grateful when he finally reached his bed. He pulled the blankets over himself and fell into the blissful oblivion of sleep.
Chuuya was woken up by a knock on his front door. The sun was beginning to set and although he felt a little better than he had that morning, he still felt like death. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped that whoever it was would go away after the first knock. No such luck.
“Chuuya~ I know you’re in there!”
Just the person he didn’t want to see when he was on the brink of dying. From previous experience, Chuuya knew that there was no way of getting rid of Dazai short of physically throwing him out and so he began to make the slow and painful journey to the front door.
“What?” he snapped waspishly the moment he threw open the door.
“Woah! Atsushi-kun was right! You really are sick after all!” Dazai said cheerfully.
“I said what do you want, Dazai?”
“Here!” Dazai produced the bouquet of flowers with a flourish. “You weren’t at our meeting place and in the end I had to ask Atsushi-kun if he’d seen you! Now! Why don’t you let me in!”
“I’m closing the door,” said Chuuya flatly but to his chagrin, Dazai managed to step around him neatly and was already making himself at home on the sofa. “Don’t make yourself comfortable, geez!”
“Aren’t you pleased to see me at all?”
“No,” said Chuuya. “If these were the flowers I was allergic to, they could have finished me off. Unless… You’re actually a hitman who was hired to kill me.”
“Chuuya,” said Dazai as seriously as he could. “Do you think that someone who looks as innocent as me could possibly be involved in anything illegal?"
They stared at each other for a long time before they began to laugh. It would have been a nice moment had Chuuya not started to cough violently again. Dazai was at his side in an instant.
“Ok, you should go back to bed now. Be a good patient and get better soon.”
Chuuya allowed himself to be half carried back to his bed and was tucked in with surprising gentleness. Dazai smoothed the covers before leaving the room quietly.
“Wait,” Chuuya said. “Where are you going?”
“I made you some soup but I think you should rest some more first so I’m going to put it in the fridge for you to have later. It’s my speciality; I call it the “spirited chicken soup”! It can instantly restore your energy!” Dazai called back. “Also, I have to put the flowers in some water before they wilt on your floor and cause a mess.”
It was very comforting listening to Dazai puttering around his apartment and the sounds lulled Chuuya into a light sleep. He woke up again when something heavy sank into the bed and he looked up to see Dazai perched precariously on the side of the bed. He smiled when he saw that Chuuya was awake.
“I’m going to leave you to it, Chuuya. Next time I see you, I expect you to be full of energy as always.”
“The flowers,” Chuuya murmured drowsily. “I owe you for the flowers.”
“Consider it a gift from a friend,” said Dazai, taking one of Chuuya’s hands and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“We’re friends?”
Dazai looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think we are. Good friends who pretend to hate each other, maybe.”
“Who said I’m pretending, shitty Dazai?” said Chuuya. He struggled to stay awake but it was so warm and Dazai’s voice was very soothing when he wasn’t being an idiot and he was very tired after all. He heard Dazai’s laughter as if from a distance and a gentle hand brushing his hair from his forehead.
I hope we never find the flower so we can stay like this forever, Chuuya thought before he fell asleep.
It was barely a week later that the inevitable happened.
“Here,” said Dazai. “Try this one.”
Chuuya had barely taken the bouquet into his hands when he could feel his skin prickling with the beginnings of the rash.
“This is the one, I think,” said Chuuya delicately, sneezing as he handed the bouquet back to Dazai. His heart hammered in his chest as Dazai took the flowers back. What if Dazai no longer wanted to be friends with him now that they had achieved their aim? Regardless of how had acted previously, he enjoyed being around Dazai in more ways than one. He sneaked a look at Dazai and was not surprised to find that he appeared as nonchalant and carefree as ever.
“You sure? Maybe it’s your cold playing up again?” Dazai joked.
“No, this is it,” Chuuya said. He had a sudden urge to apologise for being allergic to this particular flower.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t order that many species in and there were only a few more for us to try anyway…” Dazai trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the flowers in his hand before his eyes snapped back to Chuuya's face. “Chuuya, please give me your number.”
Chuuya’s brain short-circuited. “Huh?” he eventually managed very eloquently.
“Your number,” Dazai said again. “As payment for today’s flowers. And also because I might like you a little?”
“Ah,” Chuuya managed. “Um. Ah. Yes! Ok.” After a few seconds of frantic searching, Chuuya produced a lint covered biro from one of his pockets. “Do you have any paper?”
“Nope! But you can write it on my arm so everyone can see that I had a successful evening.”
Dazai looked so smug that Chuuya suddenly had the urge to punch him in the face again. Instead, he took the offered arm and scribbled his number down on the bandages. He could feel the heat of Dazai’s arm through the white cotton and tried to ignore his own wildly beating heart.
“Ok, there you go-” Chuuya attempted to take a step back before he found himself engulfed in a wall of tan coloured coat and clingy 22 year old child. The flowers tumbled to the ground, forgotten.
“Chuuuuuyaaaa~” wailed Dazai, nuzzling his face into Chuuya’s hair and mashing the shorter into his chest. “I’m so happy you like me too. I can’t wait for our first date and then I can move in with you and we can be happy forever-”
“Get off me! You’re covered in pollen, you shitty Dazai and if I end up in the hospital again because of you, I will end your miserable existence!”
It took a few minutes for him to disentangle himself from Dazai and even when he did, Dazai’s warm hand quickly found its way back to Chuuya’s. He pretended to be cross, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. They stayed that way as they walked through the park, making jokes at each other’s expense, until they reached the point where they usually went their separate ways. The streetlight above them poured a puddle of golden light onto the pavement and Chuuya could see every strand of Dazai’s hair in excruciating detail. To his annoyance, he had to look up if he wanted to see Dazai’s face.
“Like what you see?” Dazai teased.
“As if,” Chuuya scoffed. “I was just wondering whether the thin atmosphere at that altitude would explain your lack of brain cells.”
Dazai laughed. “Well, sometimes, I wonder what it’s like to see things at Chuuya’s height. It must be weird to so close to the ground all the time.” He crouched down until his face was level with Chuuya’s. “Oi, Dazai,” he said in a poor imitation of Chuuya’s voice. “You’re really cool and I don’t want to say it because I’m too shy-”
Dazai easily avoided the annoyed swipe Chuuya sent in his direction.
“I have no idea why I like you,” grumbled Chuuya.
“So you do like me,” said Dazai.
“So what if I do, you insufferable idiot,” Chuuya said fondly. “We’ve been dating for weeks and neither of us realised it.”
“Well then, Chuuya~” Dazai said in his singsong voice. “Would you like to start dating for real? I’ll be sure to bring flowers you aren’t allergic to!”
“I’d love to,” said Chuuya. “And before I forget, I still owe you for the flowers you gave me when I was ill.” He leaned up and planted a single soft kiss against the crest of Dazai’s cheek.
“Only on the cheek?” Dazai pouted, although Chuuya could tell he was beaming inside.
“The flowers weren’t worth that much, although, I am willing to consider bribes in the form of fine dining and wine.”
“Consider it a done deal,” Dazai said solemnly. “I will be waiting outside the restaurant on Kosho Road. Don’t be late.”
Chuuya tapped his foot impatiently against the floor. Half an hour had already passed since the time they had agreed to meet at the restaurant and Dazai had still failed to show up. At this point, most of the waiters (and other patrons) had been shooting him sympathetic glances, assuming that he had been stood up. So it was to his immense relief when heard the restaurant door open again followed by his name in a very familiar voice. Chuuya stood up and turned to face the entrance of the restaurant (and his useless date).
“Dazai! You’re late! What the h-” Chuuya was cut off by a pungent smell which seemed to have entered with Dazai. To his horror, he saw a large purple flower standing next to a very pleased looking Dazai.
“It’s not the same one as the one in the shop the first time we met but I managed to acquire another which was due to bloom today! See, isn’t it beautiful?” Dazai beamed, seemingly unaware of everyone else looking more than a little disgusted.
A waiter eventually gathered up enough courage to edge close to the pair.
“Sirs, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the establishment. We do not allow biohazardous substances on our premises.”
“Of course,” said Chuuya immediately, ignoring Dazai’s indignant splutters. “I apologise for the trouble. Come on.”
By the time they managed to remove the corpse flower from the restaurant (to everyone’s relief), Chuuya had already reached the acceptance stage of the five stages of grief. Dazai leaned until his face was close to Chuuya’s puckering his lips expectantly.
“I think it’s time for me to go home,” said Chuuya flatly. “Goodnight, Dazai.”