Archive of Our Own

For five years, Dazai had known Nakahara Chuuya. And for all that time, she hadn't been able to talk to her for more than five minutes.

Nakahara Chuuya was the captain of the volleyball team. Her ginger hair reached her lower back—slightly wavy, though she kept it in a ponytail most of the time. Her skin was softly sun-kissed, her face dusted with freckles, and her left eye was blue while the right was brown. Her long lashes brushed against her slightly puffy cheeks, and she wore a lip piercing: the so-called Snake Bites hoops. She was lean, but her thighs were thick—not that Dazai had been looking too much. She was also loud and sometimes rude, but she was loyal and cool most of the time, with a group of friends from the upper grades. And she was so breathtakingly beautiful…

“Close your mouth, you're drooling.”

Dazai closed her mouth immediately. “I'm not.”

“You were. You should, you know, actually talk to her,” Ranpo slurred, resting her cheek on her arm. “Maybe that's more effective than just staring.”

Dazai rolled her eyes and glanced toward the teacher, who was speaking, though every word sounded like a foreign language. “And what would I even tell her?”

“Normal things,” Ranpo paused and sat up, leaning closer. “Like, 'I wanna kiss you' or 'you're so hot I fin'—'”

“Ranpo-kun, Dazai-kun, do you have something you want to share with the class?” The teacher was suddenly much closer than Dazai had expected.

Dazai lowered her gaze to her desk, fidgeting with her fingers. She shook her head, feeling her face burst into flames.

“I was asking her if she could read the tenth line. I think I need glasses, Miss,” Ranpo lied smoothly, squinting ahead.

The woman nodded slowly before scoffing. “You're saying you asked Dazai-kun if she could see, when she isn't even wearing her own glasses? Dazai-kun, your parents were very emphatic with me that you need to wear them all the time.”

Ranpo chuckled quietly at that.

Dazai didn't like using her glasses. She needed them, yes, but they made her head ache after just a little while. She wasn't about to argue with the teacher, though, death before confrontation. She slid her glasses on and endured them for the rest of the class, but as soon as the bell rang, she took them off again. She didn't need 20/20 vision to look at Chuuya, anyway.

She liked Nakahara Chuuya; that wasn't a secret. All her friends knew it. She was really going to graduate without ever getting over this dumb crush. Dumb because it wasn't like she stood a chance with Chuuya—they barely knew each other, and all their interactions had been agonizingly awkward. Also… she didn't even know if Chuuya liked girls. Dazai had heard rumors about Chuuya dating boys, but nothing was confirmed, though it was likely. Not that the fact Chuuya liked girls would magically mean she'd ever like Dazai…

She didn't think she was ugly, no. But she just wasn't fit for Chuuya. That girl was simply too stunning; she needed someone just as pretty as she was.

“Stop tormenting yourself,” Ranpo said, wrapping an arm around Dazai's shoulders and pulling her down. “Why don't you buy her one of those things she likes? The chocolate milk, was it?”

Dazai looked down the hallway and swallowed hard. “That would be weird…”

Ranpo groaned and let her go. “Trust me. That's how Poe and I started dating.”

“She bought you sweets because you love them and accept them from almost anybody,” Dazai muttered, shooting her a look. “Chuuya… is not like that.”

“Fine, give me the money, I'll buy it and give it to her—in your name,” Ranpo said with a grin, extending an open hand.

“That is not better…” Dazai pouted slightly. “Let's just… ignore it. We'll graduate and never see each other again, and it'll be fine.”

Ranpo stared at her for a long moment before sighing. “I just want to help, silly. You need to use those lips for something other than pouting.”

Dazai frowned. “Ha ha. No.”

Recess wasn't a time Dazai particularly liked. She usually wasn't hungry, and the cafeteria was far too loud. Of course, she enjoyed spending time with her friends—especially since some of them were in different grades—but mostly, she just craved silence. Usually, she endured it. Sometimes she couldn't, though her friends never made a big deal out of it; Dazai knew they understood. That day, she ended up near the back of the building, though she had to wander a bit to find a spot where she wouldn't smell the other students smoking.

She sat on the ground, pressing her back against the wall. The sky was grayish, rain probably, and the air smelled faintly of wet earth. She buried her face in her knees, hugging her legs close. She didn't really care that all her friends had already dated someone, or that they had all shared their first kisses. Well, it stung a little, of course—it made her feel like she was missing out on some universal script—but it wasn't the end of the world. She just couldn't picture herself dating anyone. Let alone Chuuya.

…The mere thought made her face burn.

What kind of lover would Chuuya even be? Dazai imagined she'd be intense; after just a few days of dating, they'd probably be making out in the halls. Since Chuuya was loud and bold, Dazai was sure she'd take charge, pulling Dazai wherever she pleased. And Dazai wouldn't mind. She probably tasted like that mint lip balm Chuuya always seemed to have around. And since Chuuya was shorter, Dazai couldn't help picturing her wanting to sit on her lap… oh. Though if Chuuya actually asked her to, Dazai would…

Anyway, it was useless to obsess over things that would never happen.

When the bell finally rang, she headed back inside. Speaking of the devil—well, no, the fallen angel. She almost ran into Chuuya. Almost as in Chuuya was walking fast, nearly stumbled right past her, and then completely ignored her existence.

Dazai stood frozen in place for ten full seconds before she remembered she actually had a class to get to.

Most of the classes were alright. Dazai preferred math and literature since those didn't really require her to speak much, and she was good at them—though, truth be told, she was good at almost every class except P.E. Her marks in math, chemistry, literature, history, and arts were amazing; she usually placed first in her grade (mostly because Ranpo was too lazy, even though she was just as smart, if not smarter). But P.E. was pure torture.

First, she wasn't in shape at all, so every exercise felt like a punch to the stomach. And second, she felt like she was burning up with shame anytime she had to do anything remotely near Chuuya. Dazai felt like a broken leaf trying to move, while Chuuya was so fast, flexible, fit, perfect. Thankfully, they only had that class one day a week for two hours. And every week, the very next day, Dazai's body ached in places she didn't know existed.

That week, though, the teacher took them to the pool. Dazai didn't really know how to swim, but since she was tall enough that her feet easily touched the bottom, she didn't mind it. Her swimsuit was a simple one-piece, and she had to take off her usual bandages, but figures—no one would look at her if she stayed mostly submerged anyway. What made the day infinitely better was Chuuya. She was wearing a red swimsuit that showed off her legs and her soft, toned stomach, highlighting her incredible figure. While Chuuya wasn't an hourglass, she had such a pretty, athletic build…

“Are you okay?!”

Dazai blinked hard, rubbing her head. “Ouch… That actually hurt.”

Atsushi waded closer with the most concerned expression Dazai had ever seen. “I'm so sorry, Dazai-san! I didn't mean to—are you alright? Does it hurt too bad? Let me help you out of—'”

Dazai grabbed her hand and offered a small smile. “I'm fine. You basically rearranged my brain cells, but I'm fine… I think,” she chuckled softly.

Atsushi eyed her, clearly skeptical. “Are you sure? I'm so sorry, I totally didn't see you…”

“I wasn't paying attention,” Dazai shrugged. “I'll just stay by the edge.”

“Alright!”

Dazai swam over and sat on the edge of the pool, trying to look casual and normal, though her eyes immediately drifted back to where Chuuya was laughing with her friends.

“Go.”

“Oh my goodness, you startled me!” Dazai whined, pressing a hand against her chest. “Can you not do that?” After giving Ranpo a look, she went back to staring at Chuuya, who was walking away from her friends.

Ranpo laughed and gestured toward the water. “Look, she's getting out of the pool. It's your moment. Go, go. Make it look like a coincidence, like in a movie. Talk to her, tell her you have some chips in your bag, keep the conversation going.”

Dazai blinked at her. “Are you crazy? Talking is the hardest part! What do I even talk about?”

“It just flows, believe me.” Ranpo waved a hand dismissively. “Get up, quickly!”

Dazai took a deep breath and grabbed Ranpo's hand. Once she was on her feet, a wave of nausea hit her. “I can't do this.”

“You can. Come on. You're pretty. And hey, even if she doesn't like girls, at least you could be friends.”

“She's cool as fuck…” Dazai sighed, hugging herself as she watched Chuuya step out of the pool.

“And people love losers, don't worry.”

“You love a loser, but you're already taken,” Dazai mumbled, making a face.

Ranpo rolled her eyes and gave her a light tug. “Go. You got this. Just talk to her.”

She could do this. Talking couldn't be that hard. She could fucking do this. Dazai took deep, steady breaths as she made her way over to Chuuya, who was casually walking toward a table where her things were laid out. How was she supposed to make this look accidental? Dazai hadn't thought that far ahead, and before she knew it, she was standing two steps away from her.

Lord.

Chuuya didn't seem to notice her as she unzipped her bag and rummaged through it. Dazai swallowed hard, desperately trying to think of something smooth, but her brain went completely blank.

“Uh, do you need something?”

“You look really red,” Dazai blurted out. “Did you even put sunscreen on?”

Chuuya blinked at her, visibly confused for a second. “I was just about to.” She raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, do you need something?”

Dazai swallowed hard and shook her head. “No.” Then she nodded. “I mean, yes. No, wait, no… Yes. I need you—I mean, I need something from you.” If God existed, Dazai sincerely wished that deity would strike her down right this second.

Chuuya made a face, looking thoroughly baffled. “Huh…” She blinked a few more times and glanced back toward the pool. “So…?”

Dazai nodded once more and awkwardly patted the sides of her own thighs. “Ha ha, ha. You know what? Never mind. Ha.”

“Right, sure…” Chuuya snorted and turned back to her bag.

Dazai didn't wait a single second before turning on her heel and walking away. The pool was too close. She fled straight to the locker room.

She slid down the tile wall and hugged her knees to her chest. She knew it was a terrible idea; she would never understand how people could just walk up and talk to strangers out of nowhere. She was only friends with Ranpo because Ranpo had approached her first, and because they both loved Resident Evil, so it had just happened. It was the same with her other friends—it always started because someone mentioned a shared interest. But… what did Chuuya even like?

Oh, man.

What did Chuuya actually like?

Dazai had watched her for years. She knew Chuuya liked sports, and she’d overheard her mention playing random video games, but nothing specific. She knew Chuuya liked dogs, summer, rock music, math, and the colors red and blue, and that was about it. There wasn't a huge, defining interest that Dazai knew of. Ranpo loved Sherlock Holmes, Atsushi liked some really weird magical girl anime, Kunikida loved The Mentalist (even though she spent half her time complaining about how much she hated-loved the protagonist) and cooking, Oda loved one very specific book, and Ango loved true-crime documentaries.

What did Chuuya love?

That could have been a great place to start a conversation, assuming her earlier humiliation hadn't completely reduced her chances to absolute zero. But how on earth was she supposed to find out?

“Hey, what happened?”

Dazai lifted her head to glare at Ranpo. “I suck at human interaction, that's what happened.”

Ranpo winced sympathetically and sat down cross-legged in front of her. “How did you even manage to blow it? What did you say?”

Dazai clicked her tongue. “It doesn't matter… It was horrible.” She buried her face back in her knees.

“How can you be so bad at talking? You talk all the time,” Ranpo mumbled. “Actually, you talk just as much as I do.”

“Because I know you…”

“Well, you didn't know me at the start, and you were still talking a mile a minute like a wet parrot.”

Dazai stared at her, unimpressed. “A wet parrot? Is that really the best metaphor you could come up with?”

“Yep! Have you ever seen a wet parrot? They just squawk and squawk and squawk—”

“Point taken,” Dazai muttered, shooting her a dirty look before sighing. “It just happened, okay? You're crazier than I am anyway.”

Ranpo laughed. “Well, you should try a different angle with Chuuya. Find a topic she likes—”

“What topic?”

“—and be a total weirdo about it,” Ranpo finished, waving a hand. “Just stalk her. Don't you do that already?”

“No?” Dazai blinked, horrified. “You mean like, online?”

“Yes.”

“I don't stalk her…”

“Well, start. For research purposes, obviously.”

Dazai, of course, followed Chuuya on Instagram, though she hadn't paid it much attention since she barely opened the app anyway.

Ten posts | One hundred followers |One hundred forty following.

Her bio simply read: “17. We all will go to hell,” and that was it. All of Chuuya's posts were pictures of herself or her friends. Looking closer, Dazai noticed one photo featuring a paused TV screen with the title of a series visible: Game of Thrones. Dazai had no idea Chuuya liked something like that. Or did she? Maybe she'd just been watching it with someone else. Another carousel post showed Chuuya sticking her tongue out, with a Spider-Man movie poster blurred in the background—she'd clearly been at the cinema. Oh. Did Chuuya like Marvel? Dazai wasn't obsessed with superheroes, but she knew a thing or two.

The next post was just a selfie of Chuuya with a caption that read: “more horror, please.” Horror. Chuuya liked horror. Oh my goodness. That was something Dazai actually knew about. Ranpo, aside from her Sherlock Holmes obsession, loved a ton of horror movies and had forced Dazai to watch every single one of them. Dazai was practically educated in the genre.

Then she checked Chuuya's stories—one had been posted a few hours ago. It was a picture of a TV screen with a couple of people on it, and Chuuya had added the caption: “haunted asylum is super weird.” Dazai immediately looked it up. It was a movie—a Korean horror flick. Maybe, just maybe, if she was brave enough, she could talk to Chuuya about it tomorrow. How? She had no idea. But for right now, Dazai tracked down a very suspicious streaming site where she could watch the movie.

“So… what did you find?” Ranpo asked as she stretched out her arms and slumped into the chair next to her.

Dazai stared nervously at a piece of paper on her desk, where she had jotted down a few notes and thoughts about the movie just in case. She swallowed hard. “She likes horror.”

“Cool!” Ranpo seemed genuinely intrigued. “What's her favorite movie?”

“I don't know, but the other day she was watching one,” Dazai said with a sigh, leaning back in her chair. “This one. Have you heard of it?”

“Oh, yeah. That's a fun movie,” Ranpo chuckled, glancing at the paper.

“Fun,” Dazai echoed. “Huh…” She bit her thumbnail, staring at Ranpo for a moment. “Fun?”

Ranpo nodded.

“The actors were pretty good, I guess,” Dazai muttered.

“And? How are you actually going to talk to Chuuya about it?” Ranpo asked with a grin. “Do you feel brave enough yet?” she teased.

Dazai huffed. “Maybe… I'll try. If the right moment presents itself—”

“You have to create the moment, dummy. It's not going to just fall into your lap.”

“It's fine if it doesn't.”

“It is not fine. You clearly want this. Don't you always get what you want?” Ranpo waggled her brows. “Is Chuuya really that hard for you to handle?”

Dazai blinked. “Why are you so mean to me?” she pouted slightly. “I seriously shouldn't have listened to your advice. I bet Kunikida would have given me way better tips.”

“Okay, go ahead and reject my brilliant, genius advice,” Ranpo scoffed, tossing her hair. “My wisdom is simply too great for you, I see.”

Dazai rolled her eyes.

That day, Chuuya arrived late to class, earning a scolding from the teacher. Thankfully, the lecture kept Dazai focused enough that she managed not to stare at her too much. During the next hour, in math class, the teacher divided the students into groups, assigning everyone a number from one through four so that students with matching numbers formed smaller teams. Dazai wasn't sure whether to feel thrilled that Chuuya ended up in her group or utterly terrified.

There were only three of them in the group, which meant there was nowhere to hide. The silver lining was that since Chuuya was naturally great at math, they didn't really need to talk; they just divided up the problems and worked in silence. Or… was that actually a bad thing? Dazai wasn't sure. Part of her felt like she should try to start a conversation, but another part knew better. Being this close to Chuuya made her heart race so fast she couldn't think straight; staying quiet and focusing on the math was much safer.

Chuuya finished her section first, and Dazai didn't take much longer to finish hers, but their third groupmate was still working through the final problem. Dazai kept her eyes glued to her paper, terrified that if she looked up and caught Chuuya's eye, she'd combust on the spot.

“Hey… are you free this Saturday?”

Dazai's head snapped up. “What?”

“This Saturday. My niece is acting in a little play,” Chuuya said, her gaze darting from Dazai's face down to her own hands. “It's to… raise funds. For a local charity.”

Dazai nodded slowly, her chest tightening with a mix of relief and disappointment. Of course it was for a charity event. Her delusional hope that Chuuya was casually asking her out on a date vanished instantly. She didn't know why she'd ever expected that. “Oh. Yes, I'm free. I'll go.”

“Really? You can donate whatever you want,” Chuuya added quickly, glancing up with a raised eyebrow. “It doesn't have to be much.”

“Alright,” Dazai murmured, lightly folding the edge of her paper.

They stared at each other in silence.

“I'm done. Let's just staple this and get it over with,” their third groupmate chimed in cheerfully.

Fine, they hadn't talked about movies, but they had talked! That was something. Dazai felt proud of herself—she hadn't even stuttered this time. She spent the rest of the school day staring at Chuuya, only half-paying attention to her classes. Their conversation had been awkward and short, but they had actually exchanged words. It might not be a massive breakthrough, but it was lightyears better than nothing.

When the final bell rang, Dazai waited for Ranpo outside the school library because Ranpo was talking—and being all lovey-dovey—with her girlfriend. If Poe could manage a relationship, and Poe was notoriously shy, then Dazai definitely had a shot. She just had to try really hard.

“Hey!”

Dazai froze in place when she heard Chuuya's voice.

“Hey, I realized I never gave you the details,” Chuuya said as she stopped right in front of her, pulling out her phone. “Do you even have my number?”

“Yes… It's in the school group chat,” Dazai nodded rapidly.

“Oh, right,” Chuuya murmured, tapping at her screen. “Well, send me a text later so I have it. I'll shoot you the information about the play.”

“Got it. Thank you. Have a good day,” Dazai said, offering a polite smile while trying her absolute best to sound casual.

Chuuya blinked at her for a second, gave a little wave, and hurried off down the hallway.

“Oh my goodness, did I just see you two actually talking?” Ranpo asked, skipping over as they started walking toward the school gates. “What was that about?”

“She invited me to a charity event. That's all.”

“Oh, did she now? Look at you! It's the perfect chance to see her in a casual environment,” Ranpo said cheerfully. “Just make sure you wear something cute, okay? And don't forget your glasses, unless you want to spend the whole time squinting like a mole.”

Dazai snorted. “I don't think it's some grand romantic moment. She's probably going to be surrounded by her friends the whole time.”

“Dazai, you have to seize these opportunities,” Ranpo scolded, giving her arm a light punch. “If you get even a fraction of a second alone with her, you have to strike up a conversation.”

“Why don't you just come with me? It's this Saturday.”

“Nope, can't. I'm staying over at Poe's all weekend,” Ranpo replied instantly.

“Oh, come on.” Dazai stopped in her tracks and grabbed Ranpo's wrist. “You spend time with her every single day. Help me out here—your best friend. Your poor, suffering best friend.” She let out a dramatic pout.

“Yeah, but she's my girlfriend, and she's leaving for vacation soon,” Ranpo whined back. “I need to soak up every second.”

“Why are you so mean, cruel, insensitive to my plight?” Dazai dragged her feet as they reached the gates. “Terrible friend.”

Ranpo chuckled. “Just drag Odasaku along with you, then.”

“You think Odasaku is just free on a Saturday? She's probably working.”

“Just ask her, dummy,” Ranpo rolled her eyes.

“What time is the event?” Oda asked, picking up a stack of dirty dishes from a table. “I have to be back here by five in the afternoon.”

Dazai rocked back on her heels as she watched her. “Ah, the play starts at one p.m., so we can just stay for a couple of hours.”

Even though Oda was older and had already graduated, they had met back when Oda was student-teaching and had taken over classes for Dazai's grade last year. Dazai had found Odasaku genuinely interesting, and they'd naturally started talking after class. Dazai wasn't the type to chat up teachers—death before that—but since Oda looked young and easygoing, Dazai had felt… a lot more comfortable approaching her.

Oda hummed under her breath, carrying the dishes behind the counter. “Why me, though?”

Dazai waited for her to reappear, then leaned over the counter. “I just don't want to go alone! Plus, you're my friend, and we need to hang out!” She flashed a bright grin.

Oda blinked at her, wiping her hands clean with a dish towel. “If you say so.”

“How is your thesis going, by the way?” Dazai tilted her head.

“Terribly.”

“What?” Dazai pouted in sympathy.

Oda chuckled softly. “It's fine. Theses are always like that. Don't worry about it.” She let out a long sigh. “I'll go with you, though. Sounds like a good excuse to take a break.”

Dazai clapped her hands together once. “Yay! You're the absolute best! Don't worry about buying a ticket or anything, just bring your wonderful presence.”

“Alright, then,” Oda smiled lightly.

Dazai had never been to a formal charity event before. She had asked her mother about it that morning, which also resulted in Dazai receiving a check because her mother believed handing over loose cash just didn't fit the occasion. Her mother had even helped her get dressed. Dazai didn't mind the help; honestly, it was much better to let her mom choose the outfit. She ended up in a soft blue dress that barely brushed her knees, complete with white sleeves, a cute little bow in the front, and matching white shoes. As for her hair, her mother had neatly tied it up in a ponytail.

She waited for Oda by the gates of the building, constantly checking her phone. Oda arrived a few minutes past one. The place was crowded, though thankfully not enough to make Dazai feel claustrophobic. Everyone looked so elegant that Dazai couldn't help wondering if her clothes actually fit the venue. Near the entrance, she saw other attendees handing envelopes of money to an older woman, so Dazai decided to do the same—after Oda went first, of course.

After spending a while wandering around the room, overhearing snatches of conversation and doing absolute nothing while Oda was glued to her phone, Dazai spotted Chuuya in the distance. Impulsively, Dazai grabbed Oda's wrist and pulled her along as she marched straight over. She took deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart—maybe she should have just come alone, dropped off the money, and left immediately. Dazai pushed her glasses up her nose just before reaching out to tap Chuuya's shoulder very carefully.

“What—oh, hi.” Chuuya turned around, her eyes shifting from Dazai to Oda. “I didn't expect Oda-san to be here.” She offered a polite bow.

“I hope it's not an inconvenience,” Oda replied, nodding back.

“Not at all,” Chuuya smiled faintly. She glanced around the room for a moment. “Uh, the play starts in ten minutes. Do you guys want something to drink?”

Before either of them could answer, Chuuya flagged down a passing server holding a tray of glasses. Oda immediately grabbed one and murmured her thanks, and Dazai quickly mimicked her just because she didn't know what else to do with her hands. She took a tentative sip, wincing slightly at how bitter it tasted.

“If you want, I can help you two find good seats,” Chuuya offered, looking between them.

“Oh, we wouldn't want to bother you…” Oda murmured.

“It's fine, I'm kind of tired of standing around anyway. Follow me.”

Dazai hadn't quite realized it until now, but Chuuya was wearing heels—that explained why she seemed a little taller than usual. She wore a short black dress paired with a stylish jacket, her ginger hair tied up in a messy bun, and her makeup featured a light red lipstick and soft brown eyeshadow. Dazai tried desperately not to smile like a complete idiot, but it was practically impossible. Chuuya led them down a long hallway and into a dark auditorium, where the dim lighting was just enough to guide them to their seats.

Chuuya sat down first in the middle of a row and let out a soft sigh. Since Oda took the seat right next to her, Dazai decided not to overthink things or make life difficult for herself, moving to sit on the other side of Oda—except Chuuya subtly stretched out her leg to block the aisle space, preventing Dazai from passing, and gave a gentle, pointed nod to the empty seat directly beside her.

“They're putting on The Pied Piper of Hamelin,” Chuuya remarked casually, looking right at her. Dazai couldn't read any particular emotion on her face.

Still, since Chuuya clearly wanted her right there, who was Dazai to argue? She didn't fully understand why, but she sat down obediently, staring ahead at the velvet curtains.

“Which I consider a little… weird,” Chuuya continued under her breath. “Because isn't the whole story basically about children getting kidnapped?”

Dazai glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “…Well, it's a children's story, I guess…”

“Hm. Honestly, every classic fairy tale is deeply disturbing if you actually think about it,” Chuuya said quietly. “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs?” She let out a dry scoff. “More like her seven roommates with benefits.”

Dazai blinked, choking back a laugh. “Roommates?”

“Yes. And Sleeping Beauty? Just a bunch of guys kissing a comatose girl without her consent,” Chuuya sighed. “Don't even get me started on Cinderella.”

“You're right,” Dazai murmured. “It's hard to find a children's story that isn't… deeply disturbing, considering adults are the ones writing them.” She fidgeted nervously with her hands in her lap. “And since they're often based on grim realities, it's hard to keep them totally clean.”

Chuuya let out a soft, non-committal hum. “True. But some shows are just wild. Have you ever watched Gravity Falls, for example?”

Dazai turned her head slightly to look at her. “Who hasn't?”

“Well, I mean, at first glance you've got all the blatant Illuminati symbolism,” Chuuya raised an eyebrow. “And look, I'm not complaining, but it's supposed to be a kids' show.”

Dazai narrowed her eyes, considering it. “You can't shelter kids from everything forever, anyway.”

Chuuya shrugged. “My point still stands. Being a kid is hard enough when everything they throw at you has a weird double meaning.”

“Especially when questionable people are the ones controlling what gets produced.”

They stared at each other for a beat.

Then, a small smile touched Chuuya's lips. “That's why I prefer horror. At least with horror, you know you're walking into a movie full of disturbing shit.”

Dazai chuckled lightly. “So what's your favorite horror movie, then?”

Chuuya frowned slightly, tapping her fingers against her thigh in thought. “Man, I like so many… I like Ju-on, and Scream, but only the very first ones.” She paused, visibly debating. “And people talk trash about the Resident Evil movies, but they're cool.”

Even though Resident Evil wasn't occupying every waking thought of Dazai's mind anymore, hearing Chuuya say that made it take an extreme amount of willpower not to break into a massive grin. “Oh, people just expected a direct 1:1 translation of the games onto the big screen.”

“Yeah, they basically just wanted to watch someone else play the game,” Chuuya rolled her eyes. “What about you?”

Dazai blinked, caught off guard. “Me? Uh…” She swallowed hard. “I don't know. I don't think I have a single favorite.”

“So what do you like?” Chuuya tilted her head, her gaze locking onto Dazai.

Having Chuuya look at her so intently was a completely foreign experience. While Dazai's brain was mostly screaming about how gorgeous she looked in the dim light, it also made her feel like she was bursting into flames. “Well—I mean, um… I really liked Obsession, for instance. Or… or I'm kind of obsessed with the whole Backrooms vibe.”

Chuuya blinked, genuinely surprised. “Right? Isn't it wild that something like the Backrooms even became a thing?” She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “I mean, aside from all the creepy entities, liminal spaces are just so fascinating.” She smirked a little. “Haven't you ever thought that liminal spaces might exist in some kind of alternate framework—like, a different dimension, which is why our brains can't fully comprehend them?”

“I—”

“Not like a whole separate fantasy world, but a dimension in the physics sense? Does that even make any sense?” Chuuya leaned in closer, dropping her voice.

Dazai bit her lower lip, completely entranced. “I mean… they definitely have their own internal logic. I think it could be like that. At least for some of the levels.”

“What are your favorite levels?”

“Oh, you did not just ask me that,” Dazai giggled softly. “I love so many… Maybe the neighborhood level. The poolrooms are a classic, too.”

“I love the poolrooms as well, but you know what? What about the playrooms?” Chuuya smirked. “Those were scary as fuck when I first went down the Backrooms rabbit hole.”

“The more innocent something looks, the worse the implications are,” Dazai shrugged one shoulder. “What about level fifty? The desert one, I mean.”

Chuuya hummed under her breath. “I can't say I know that one off the top of my head.”

“It's an infinite desert,” Dazai pushed her glasses up her nose. “It's called Exodus—it's based on the ten plagues of the Bible.”

“Religion is literally everywhere,” Chuuya tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Though, honestly, aren't most religious concepts terrifying anyway?”

“Biblical angels are straight-up body horror,” Dazai agreed with a firm nod.

“Right? And in a lot of media, they always show up to basically format the hard drive of the world and destroy everything just to start over,” Chuuya said. “I mean, I know humanity is a mess, but since organized religion is mostly just about control and… you know.” She clicked her tongue, waving a hand dismissively. “Never mind. Anyway—do you ever think we actually exist?”

“What a heavy question to drop out of nowhere,” Dazai laughed.

“I mean, obviously we're physically here,” Chuuya quickly clarified. “But do we exist in the way we think we exist?”

“As in, are we living in a simulation?” Dazai tilted her head, biting her lower lip as she thought. “Because… maybe? Or maybe base reality is just too complex for our brains to process.”

“Right? Because what if the universe never even started? What if time is truly infinite? What does that even mean for us?” Chuuya leaned in even closer. “Can human minds even comprehend what infinity actually is? Or how time works? What if all of time is happening all at once, but because we're so… tiny and insignificant, we're just trapped looking at it one slice at a time?”

“Like hyper-dimensional geometry, or something,” Dazai murmured.

Chuuya nodded enthusiastically.

As more people filled into the auditorium—including some of Chuuya's friends—their philosophical deep-dive naturally tapered off. But Dazai felt completely euphoric. She could barely hear anything over the frantic thumping of her own heart as she stared straight ahead, watching the heavy velvet curtains rise to signal the start of the play. She couldn't stop thinking about Chuuya's expressions; the way her brows furrowed when she was really thinking, or how she looked at Dazai like what she was saying mattered.

She had just had a real conversation with Chuuya that easily exceeded five words. Granted, it was the most random conversation imaginable, but maybe Chuuya was just testing the waters to see what they had in common—hence why it had felt so fast-paced and chaotic. Still, it was incredible! Dazai had no idea why Chuuya, after all this time, was suddenly interacting with her, let alone geeking out over weird internet lore and alternate dimensions. Whatever the reason, she was grateful. She never would have pegged Chuuya as the type to enjoy stuff like that. It wasn't that being a volleyball captain meant Chuuya couldn't have niche interests, but… it wasn't exactly what people expected.

Finding out that her crush shared her exact brand of weirdness was nothing short of miraculous.

By the end of the play, Dazai had already taken her glasses off and stashed them away. Stepping out into the bright and crowded lobby immediately made her lose sight of Chuuya in a sea of blurry faces, and since Chuuya was on the shorter side, it took Dazai several panicked minutes of squinting to finally spot her standing next to Odasaku.

“I hope you two enjoyed the play,” Chuuya said, rolling her neck to the side with a slight wince. “All the donors get free food afterwards, but if you want any, I'd recommend getting over there now before the line turns into absolute hell.”

“I'd love to stick around, but I really have to get going,” Oda said apologetically.

“Wait, but you said your shift didn't start until five,” Dazai said, looking up at her with a pout.

“Something came up,” Oda gave her a sympathetic smile. “If I don't go deal with it now, it's going to be a disaster later.”

“Fine,” Dazai sighed dramatically.

“Take care of yourselves,” Oda waved at them both before heading briskly toward the exit.

“I've been abandoned,” Dazai muttered under her breath.

Chuuya leaned in slightly. “Did you say something?”

“Nothing important.” Dazai swallowed hard.

Chuuya blinked at her, then nodded. “Alright. So, do you want to grab some food?”

“I guess so.”

“Follow me, I might know a way to skip the line.” Chuuya smirked a little and reached out, wrapping her fingers around Dazai's wrist.

Oh my goodness. Chuuya was touching her. Intentionally, to boot.

They walked down a hallway until they reached a large room that looked a bit like a secondary cafeteria. The main line for the food was already massive, barely moving at all. Instead of joining it, Chuuya pulled Dazai all the way to the other side of the room and knocked on a side door. It was opened by a woman who looked down at Chuuya, asking what she needed; Chuuya simply flashed a knowing smile and said they just wanted to grab some food. They were waved through, walking down another short corridor until they reached a staff counter. Chuuya finally let go of Dazai's wrist and leaned over it.

Dazai hung back a step while Chuuya chatted with a young man behind the counter, who quickly returned with two boxed meals, pairs of chopsticks, and silverware.

“I honestly have no idea what's inside,” Chuuya whispered with a grin. “Come on, let's sit down over there. We have to keep it down, though—we're definitely not supposed to be back here.” She picked up one of the boxes.

Dazai grabbed her own box and followed her down the hall. They settled at a small table next to a tall window. The area looked vaguely like a waiting room for offices, though there was something slightly off about it that Dazai couldn't quite place—the whole backstage wing had a strange vibe. There was a lone vending machine nearby, so Chuuya jogged over to it and bought them both sodas.

“Does someone in your family work here?” Dazai asked once Chuuya sat back down.

“My older sister is one of the founders.”

“Oh.”

When silence stretched between them after that, Dazai opened her box. The cardboard was slightly damp from the heat of the food inside. The meal consisted of a generous portion of rice, a fresh salad, and a few pieces of crispy, breaded chicken. Dazai wasn't particularly hungry, but she figured she could eat a little now and take the rest home.

“I thought you had to wear your glasses all the time,” Chuuya commented after taking her first bite.

“I do…” Dazai murmured, swallowing carefully.

“Then why do you always take them off?” Chuuya tilted her head, chewing thoughtfully.

“Glasses are just annoying.”

“Hm…” Chuuya gave a slow nod. “You look good in them, though.”

Dazai stared intently down at her food, instantly feeling her face burst into flames. It was just a compliment! A normal compliment; there was no reason for her to be completely losing her mind over it. Dazai took a slow and deep breath, trying to keep her cool.

“So… what do you think about the uncanny valley?” Chuuya asked after a few quiet minutes.

Dazai was silently thanking every deity in existence for the abrupt change of topic. “I think it's terrifying.”

“Right? If I ever ran into something like that in real life, I'd drop dead on the spot,” Chuuya huffed out a soft chuckle.

“Anything that pretends to be human is inherently wrong. Like… why would it even want to look like us? It's just creepy,” Dazai said before taking another bite of her chicken.

“I heard it's basically an evolutionary instinct warning us that something is unsafe,” Chuuya said, gesturing slightly with her spoon. “Though I always wonder why we needed that specific reaction. Like, I get why danger sensing is cool, but why does it trigger so hard specifically around human-looking things?”

“Maybe it's just part of a weird sixth sense.”

“I think so,” Chuuya agreed. “People try to pretend we only have five basic senses, but I know we have some kind of internal radar that picks up on bad vibes before logic even has a chance to catch up.”

Dazai chuckled under her breath. “Or we're just really good at spotting ominous red flags.”

“Well, some psychologists say it's just our subconscious mind noticing tiny discrepancies way faster than our conscious brain does,” Chuuya sighed. “Which makes sense, I guess—since no living thing wants to die, our instincts are always on high alert.”

Dazai nodded thoughtfully as she chewed. “I read once that the genuinely sinister is just whatever has been hidden away, but we already recognize it underneath. So that would totally support the subconscious theory—we already know deep down what's wrong, but our conscious mind just doesn't want to admit it.”

Chuuya blinked at her. “What even is the subconscious, anyway? Why is it locked away from our main awareness? Why does it even function like that?”

Dazai shrugged helplessly.

“And what is the mind, to begin with?” Chuuya pressed on, getting more animated. “We obviously need a physical brain to have consciousness, but plenty of living things have brains without having human-level consciousness. So what makes us special? Do other animals even think? Do they have an inner monologue? Is thinking even necessary to exist?”

“Those are a lot of heavy questions with zero answers,” Dazai chuckled softly.

Chuuya made a playfully disgruntled face. “I guess. But why do humans always feel this desperate need to find answers for everything anyway?”

“I have no idea.” Dazai smiled, shaking her head. “I really don't, Chuuya.”

Chuuya stared at her in silence.

Dazai
[17:33] Ranpo, ranpo, ranpoooo
[17:33] you have no idea what happened
[17:34] Chuuya and I had a conversation. FOR MORE THAN 5 mins
[17:34] q(≧▽≦q)

Ranpo
[17:40] really?
[17:41] I knew you could do it :b

Dazai
[17:43] she talked about children stories being creepy and horror movies, and the backrooms!!
[17:44] uncanny valley and a lot of existential stuff

Ranpo
[17:45] really didn't think chuuya was into that
[17:45] cool
[17:45] i knew you two would get along
[17:47] why she invited you and all tho?

Dazai
[17:48] no idea, buuuuut it happened, ranpo, that's what matters
[17:49] is ths a dream
[17:50] aaaaaaaaaa

The following week at school didn't mean Chuuya was suddenly treating her like a best friend, but Dazai still got a small, acknowledging nod as a greeting every single time they passed each other in the halls! That alone was a victory. On top of that, Dazai discovered that Chuuya had finally followed her back on Instagram. Ranpo kept teasing her relentlessly about it both in text messages and in person, but Dazai didn't mind all that much. Ranpo had a very strange way of showing she was proud of her—it was either completely blunt or wrapped in sarcasm.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Dazai blinked, dragging her gaze away from Chuuya in the distance to look back at Kunikida. “Huh?”

Kunikida frowned, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “Why do you even ask me to help you study if you aren't going to pay attention?”

Dazai glanced down at the paper where Kunikida had been jotting down equations. “I'm sorry… it just happened, Kunikida,” she pouted dramatically. “I am paying attention. Mostly.”

Kunikida took off her glasses and rubbed a hand down her face.

“It's just that all this noise,” Dazai shrugged, vaguely gesturing at the crowded cafeteria around them, “is super distracting.”

Kunikida took a slow breath. “Just take the notes. I need to use the restroom anyway. See you later.”

“Okay… thank you anyway,” Dazai mumbled, watching the blonde pack up and walk away from the table.

“Why'd she leave?” Ranpo asked a few moments later, sliding her headphones off her ears.

Dazai leaned down and rested her cheek flat against the table. “Maybe the charity event was just a one-time thing… maybe she only talked to me because she's polite. We haven't spoken at all this whole week.”

Ranpo let out a hum. “She has her own friend group, Dazai. It's totally normal. Besides, you haven't tried to talk to her either. Relationships are a two-way street, you know.”

Dazai grunted softly, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don't wanna be annoying.”

“You have to be a little annoying, dummy,” Ranpo muttered. “You already found out you have a ton in common. Just try.”

“Why bother, though…?” she mumbled miserably. “Maybe she only talked to me that day because she noticed I stare at her so much. I know she looked genuinely interested, but… what if my answers made her think I didn't want to keep talking? I just didn't know how much to say. I didn't want to come off as… weird.”

“You are weird. Just embrace it. I did, and it makes life so much easier.”

“Nothing has any meaning,” Dazai whispered. “Nothing matters. We're all going to die anyway. Why is existing so hard…?”

After a few moments of quiet between them, Dazai felt a hand gently pat the top of her head twice.

“Some people make the whole existing thing a little better,” Ranpo said softly. “Maybe Chuuya will end up making your life a little better, too.”

“…Who makes your life better?” Dazai opened one eye to look at her.

“Poe,” Ranpo smiled, “and you—even though you're a total pain in the ass.” She stuck her tongue out. “Oh, and Kunikida, despite her stick-in-the-mud ways, she's silly.”

“I wouldn't exactly use the word silly to describe Kunikida.”

“We're all a bunch of weirdos on the inside, dummy.”

They sat in silence for a moment, so Dazai just closed her eyes again and tried to tune out the overwhelming noise of the cafeteria. She could hear the faint rustle of a plastic bag as Ranpo snacked on her chips, but it wasn't overly bothersome. Lately, Dazai had been doing basically nothing—not even watching her usual movies or series. It made her feel a bit miserable, though not because she was actively sad; she just felt guilty for being so unproductive.

She usually liked routines, but recently they felt suffocating, and she—

“Hey, are you sitting here alone? Where are your friends?”

Dazai sat bolt upright, instantly scanning the table. Ranpo was nowhere to be seen. “Huh? Oh, um… they went to the… restroom?”

Chuuya slid smoothly into the empty chair across from her. “I see…” She tapped her fingers rhythmically against the table, nervously picking at one of the hoops in her lip piercing. “Ah, by the way… is your group for the history project already full?”

Dazai blinked slowly, her brain stalling out. “I was planning to do it with Ranpo.”

“Well, I don't have a group yet,” Chuuya murmured, looking down. “So…”

“You can join us, if you want,” Dazai managed to nod. “I'm sure Ranpo won't mind at all.”

“Cool…”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Chuuya kept absentmindedly tugging on one of the rings on her bottom lip, while Dazai dug her fingernails into her forearm, rhythmically tracing the texture of her bandages over and over again.

“Okay. Thanks, Dazai.” Chuuya stood back up, gave her a small, tight nod, and walked right back over to her own table of friends.

…

Alright then.

Dazai swallowed hard, feeling like her heart was about to pound straight out of her chest.

The three of them agreed to start the project at Chuuya's house. They had to write an essay together; at first, Dazai had thought it would be easier to work remotely so everyone could go at their own pace, but Chuuya had insisted they meet up in person. And, well, Dazai definitely wasn't going to complain about an excuse to see where Chuuya lived.

The ginger's house was just a few streets away from Dazai's—not far at all. It was a charming two-story building with a small garden out front. On the ground floor, there was a spacious living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom; the bedrooms were upstairs. They didn't go up, but Chuuya mentioned the layout right as they arrived, letting them know her parents and siblings were home. Dazai already knew Chuuya had an older sister and an older brother because Chuuya had mentioned them in a school assignment years ago, though Dazai had never actually seen the brother, and the sister had only shown up for a few parent-teacher meetings in the past.

Dazai didn't want to be a total creep, but she honestly couldn't stop looking at Chuuya. She was wearing a simple t-shirt and shorts that barely covered half her thighs. Dazai was only human—she couldn't just not appreciate how gorgeous and athletic Chuuya's legs were.

“So, what topic should we even pick?” Ranpo asked, stretching out and leaning back against the couch cushions. “Should we go for something easy?”

“What are we even supposed to cover in two thousand words?” Chuuya muttered, tapping lightly on her laptop keyboard. “It's not that much space.”

“What about feminism, hm?” Ranpo suggested, propping her chin up. “You know, the whole debate about trans women that's been so popular lately.”

“I think that's way too big for an essay this short. We'd have to oversimplify way too much,” Chuuya said, leaning her cheek on her palm. “Plus, we'd have to properly explain the counterarguments, and I still don't even know how to articulate them.”

“Explain what?” Ranpo tilted her head.

“Gender. Some definitions are still super exclusionary,” Chuuya sighed, biting her lower lip. “Because you could argue that gender is just an internal feeling, so if you feel like a woman, you are one. But it's not quite that simple, I mean…” She hesitated. “It's a social construct, but it's still tied to biological sex in a lot of ways, and it leans heavily on stereotypes because humans need to classify everything into neat little boxes. So… having a strict definition makes a box, but saying there isn't one gets confusing—I mean, if there's no definition, how do we even talk about it?”

“Humans are just overly complex,” Ranpo frowned slightly. “Feminism can't afford to exclude people the way the patriarchy does, otherwise nothing actually changes. Gender is a social construct, and because it's social, it changes right along with society. Sure, it has stereotypes because people use them as shorthand for associations, which is…” She rolled her eyes. “Annoying. But since we're all just following cultural roles anyway, gender is basically an extra layer. It shouldn't be that hard to understand.”

“Maybe we should just pick a different topic,” Dazai chimed in gently. “What about the meaning of life?”

“And what would our thesis even be about that?” Chuuya asked.

“I don't know. What do you think it is?” Dazai blinked at her.

“Life's meaning is whatever you decide it is,” Chuuya said, shrugging one shoulder casually.

“Life is meant to be lived, and that's pretty much it,” Ranpo offered.

Dazai nodded slowly. “I personally think life has no inherent meaning, but yeah, you should probably live it anyway.”

“So…?” Chuuya narrowed her eyes playfully.

“Existentialism, then,” Ranpo murmured.

They managed to stay focused for about twenty minutes, quietly researching and gathering sources. But when Chuuya returned from the kitchen with a plate of snacks, the quick break naturally stretched into a full-on conversation.

“Wait, I didn't know,” Chuuya said, settling down on the edge of the low coffee table so she was sitting right in front of them. She took a casual sip from her glass. “I totally thought you were—no offense, Ranpo—asexual or something.”

Ranpo let out a loud snort, giggling. “I am asexual. That doesn't mean I can't have a girlfriend, you dummy. I'm deeply offended you think I'm dead inside.”

Chuuya rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright, my bad. I just thought you weren't… whatever. Nevermind. How is she, anyway?”

“Poe is tall, sweet, incredibly attentive, pretty—”

“Oh no, you shouldn't have asked,” Dazai whined dramatically from the other end of the couch. “Ranpo is going to spend the next full hour listing every single thing she loves about her.”

Ranpo slapped Dazai's shoulder playfully. “Shut up. Let me live. She's a senior, by the way.”

“Oh my goodness,” Chuuya smirked. “Wait, her name is Poe? I'm sorry, what kind of first name is that?”

Ranpo clicked her tongue dismissively. “I'm just used to calling her by it. It's actually her last name.”

“Hm, I think I've heard it before,” Chuuya nodded thoughtfully. “Does she have a brother? I'm pretty sure I've heard that surname used for a guy around school.”

“Nope, only child.”

“Ah, fine. Anyway, I hope you two stay together,” Chuuya said, her tone softening a bit. “You know how it is—once people graduate high school, they always seem to drift apart and go their separate ways.”

It wasn't that Dazai couldn't speak up or jump into the conversation if she wanted to, but her brain completely stalled out. She didn't know what to add. After a few minutes, she tuned out, letting her gaze drift around the cozy living room. It wasn't anyone's fault, but a small wave of bitterness pricked at her chest. Ranpo was sitting here chatting effortlessly about normal, everyday topics with Chuuya like they'd been friends for years, while Dazai felt entirely paralyzed.

“So what about you, huh?” Ranpo suddenly shifted topics, leaning forward with a knowing grin. “I heard some gossip about you and the soccer captain.”

“What? Gross, no way,” Chuuya instantly contorted her face in disgust. “Ew—sorry, but the guy is annoying, and completely repulsive.”

“I heard he slapped your ass in the hallway.”

“Exactly!” Chuuya scowled deeply, crossing her arms. “He has zero concept of personal space. He pulled that crap and immediately earned a very well-deserved punch to the face.”

“Oh, damn, the red fury strikes,” Ranpo teased, her eyes sparkling. “Can I call you that from now on?”

“Absolutely not!”

Ranpo burst out laughing.

“He's genuinely obsessed with me, it's sick. He stares at me all the time during lunch,” Chuuya groaned, looking entirely fed up. “He comes up to talk to me about the stupidest random stuff and even sends me weird pictures of himself. I punched him, okay? I think I made it crystal clear I want nothing to do with him.”

“What a nightmare of a situation,” Ranpo huffed sympathetically. “Have you talked to any of the teachers or administration about it?”

“I did. Let's see if the school actually does anything useful for once.”

“Is any of that rumor mill stuff even true, though?” Ranpo asked after a brief pause, her eyes glinting with amusement. “I heard a while back that you used to go out with a senior boy, and that you also low-key dated a teacher…”

“What?” Chuuya blinked at her, totally dumbfounded. “Where do people even come up with this stuff? I haven't dated anyone in, like, ages. I had one dumb boyfriend in fourth grade, and that was literally it.”

“Not even a situation-ship?” Ranpo pressed.

“Nope.”

“I heard…” Dazai cleared her throat, feeling suddenly brave. “I heard once that you were secretly dating one of your friends—the blonde girl who's always wearing sunglasses.”

“Albatross?” Chuuya let out a loud chuckle, shaking her head. “She's just my best friend. If anything, she'd be the absolute last person on earth I'd ever date. Oh my goodness, she's basically like my sister.”

Dazai nodded slightly, her fingers nervously picking at the hem of her sleeve.

“So, do you like girls, then?” Ranpo asked, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “Or what? Because you didn't say, 'I wouldn't date her because I'm not into girls' or anything like that.”

Chuuya glanced between the two of them, a faint flush dusting her cheeks before she shrugged. “I'm… figuring that out, I guess.”

“Figuring that out?” Ranpo leaned forward, highly intrigued. “As in, you're open to the idea of liking girls?”

Chuuya offered a small, nervous smile. “You could say that.”

“Well, if you ever need advice on how to pull girls, let me know,” Ranpo teased smoothly. “Though fair warning, I only actually know how to flirt with total nerds.”

Chuuya laughed, shaking her head. Then, her gaze shifted. “What about you, Dazai? Got anything going on?” She turned her body slightly to face her directly.

Dazai swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry, and simply shook her head.

“No? Really?” Chuuya raised an eyebrow, her expression softening. “You're really pretty, you know. I've heard guys say it around school all the time, so I kind of thought you'd have people lining up…” She trailed off.

“No, no, not really,” Dazai murmured, her face instantly turning the color of a tomato.

“Ah.” Chuuya nodded slowly, holding her gaze.

“I'm gonna use the restroom—is that the door down the hall?” Ranpo suddenly announced, standing up from the couch.

“Yeah,” Chuuya answered without breaking eye contact with Dazai.

She didn't want to make things even more awkward, so she forced herself to hold Chuuya's gaze. She couldn't fathom why Chuuya was staring at her like that, but should she just ask? What was she supposed to do? What could she even say? In her rising panic, Dazai ended up digging her fingernails a little too hard into her bandaged forearm.

“You look tense,” Chuuya murmured softly. “Is something bothering you?”

Dazai simply shook her head.

“Why are you always so quiet? Do words cost extra?” Chuuya teased with a small smile.

Dazai blinked. “Heh… I was just listening. I kind of prefer it that way.”

“Ah.” Chuuya stood up from the coffee table and moved over to sit right beside her on the couch. “Do you think Ranpo would mind if I sat over here?”

“I… I don't think so.”

Chuuya nodded, her eyes dropping down. “Oh, I hadn't really noticed before. Your nails look nice.”

Dazai froze for a second before tentatively extending her hand. “Thank you.”

Chuuya gave her a quick, questioning glance before sliding her fingers forward and gently taking Dazai's hand in hers.

Dazai was vaguely aware that Chuuya was still talking, but all she could actually hear was the deafening roar of her own heartbeat echoing in her ears. Chuuya's hands were surprisingly warm and soft—and Dazai had to fight every single survival instinct in her body to keep from squeezing back too tight. As if the sheer physical contact wasn't enough, Chuuya lifted their joined hands up, deliberately comparing them side-by-side. Chuuya's hand wasn't much smaller than hers, though Dazai's fingers were noticeably longer and thinner.

“So?”

“What?”

“I asked how tall you are,” Chuuya said quietly, still holding onto her hand.

“Ah… last time I checked, I was one hundred and seventy-five centimeters.”

Chuuya let out a soft whistle. “Seriously?”

Dazai nodded.

“Do you think you're still growing?”

“I honestly don't know,” Dazai murmured.

“God, I hope I am,” Chuuya pouted slightly.

“I think, at our age, you don't really grow much more,” Dazai pointed out. “So…”

“Don't say that,” Chuuya muttered. “I've always wanted to be taller.”

Dazai huffed softly. “How tall are you, anyway?”

“One-fifty-five,” Chuuya said, narrowing her eyes defensively.

“Shortie,” Dazai blurted out.

Chuuya scoffed, her jaw dropping. “What did you just call me?”

Dazai swallowed hard, instantly regretting every life choice that had led her to this exact second. “Uh…”

“I still have time to grow, you know! And even if I don't, well… it's an average height, right?” Chuuya crossed her arms over her chest, shooting her a faux-glare.

“Sure… totally average,” Dazai whispered, secretly terrified that she'd completely ruined the moment by teasing her crush about her height.

But honestly? It wasn't a bad thing at all. Dazai actually liked that Chuuya was shorter than her. She couldn't fully explain why, but she just did! Maybe it had something to do with her silly daydreams—fantasies involving her and Chuuya close together, with Dazai's hands wrapped around Chuuya's waist, maybe even having Chuuya's legs locked around her if Dazai tried to lift her up… though she wasn't entirely sure her noodle arms were physically up to the task. Anyway.

Yes.

When Ranpo finally emerged from the restroom several minutes later, breaking the spell, they quickly pivoted back to collecting information for their history project. Dazai was secretly very grateful they had a tangible excuse to focus. By six in the evening, they had officially divided the essay into three parts, one for each of them, and wrapped up the study session.

Later that night, after finishing dinner, Dazai casually checked her phone—and froze when she saw a notification.

[19:01] have you played this game?

Attached to the message was a hyperlink.

July 12th

Chuuya
[18:33] sorry, my parents need me, cya

Dazai
[18:34] it's alright! have a good night! q(≧▽≦q)

July 13th

Chuuya
[16:55] I'll have to start sending you reels here, i guess

Dazai
[16:59] Were you sending me reels? I'm sorry, I don't check my instagram at all
[17:00] ＞﹏＜

Chuuya
[17:01] oh, ok
[𝖣𝖺𝗓𝖺𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 ⭐]
[18:58] Do you think time machines can exist?

Dazai
[19:03] no, really. Why?
[19:30] ?

Chuuya only texted her every now and then, but Dazai still felt so happy whenever she did. They didn't talk much in person, but that was fine. Dazai felt a little more comfortable around her now, though she wouldn't go so far as to call them friends yet. Still, it was a massive improvement when it came to her crush.

Summer break was right around the corner, which meant the final days of classes were mostly a wash. The teachers had stopped teaching actual lessons and just kept piling on random homework. The only exception was the chemistry teacher, who for some reason was still pushing forward like normal. That Wednesday, he decided to turn the class into a game: he plugged all their names into an online roulette wheel to randomly assign groups of three, gave each group a speculative question "without a definitive answer," and set a twenty-minute timer for them to brainstorm a hypothesis.

As fate would have it, Chuuya ended up grouped with Ranpo, while Dazai was stuck with classmates who stared blankly at the prompt, completely lost.

The question was simple, really: What would happen if the Moon fell toward the Earth?

Well, maybe not simple, but it had logical, scientific answers. Dazai mostly tuned out her clueless group mates, scribbling her own thoughts down on a scrap of paper. But then she caught the sound of a soft laugh coming from across the room—in Chuuya's direction. Unable to fight her curiosity, Dazai glanced over and saw Chuuya's group whispering and giggling quietly among themselves. What was so funny? What was their assigned question? Surely something much more interesting if they were having that much fun.

Dazai let out a sigh.

Ranpo always looked so effortlessly natural talking and laughing with Chuuya, and a pang of jealousy twisted in Dazai's chest. She wished she could be that casual, but she basically turned into a stuttering mess of nerves the second Chuuya got within ten feet of her. At this rate, Chuuya was never going to look at her that way—not that Dazai genuinely expected her to, but… if there had ever been a chance, it felt like it was shrinking a little more every single day. Especially since, apparently, Chuuya already had a crush on someone else.

She couldn't help wondering who it was. Was she pretty? Was she confident and bold enough not to turn into a puddle of anxiety around Chuuya? Was she loud and vibrant, just like Chuuya herself?

“If you put one portal through another portal,” Ranpo announced when the teacher finally called on their group to share, “it would first create an infinite optical effect—like a mirror! Since the portals would constantly try to cycle objects through each other, it would just reflect light endlessly. And second, if you moved one portal, whatever went in would instantly loop right back out of itself. We actually made a visual representation.” She held up a sheet of paper with a messy little sketch on it and turned around to show the rest of the class.

Was that what they had been laughing about earlier? Dazai chewed anxiously on the back of her pencil, narrowing her eyes.

“Hi…” Dazai looked up, swallowing hard as her eyes locked directly onto Chuuya's.

Chuuya had placed her hands flat on Dazai's desk and hadn't said a single word for more than ten seconds. Even though Dazai wouldn't mind just staring at Chuuya forever—especially since she looked impossibly pretty wearing that soft blue eyeshadow today—standing there in total silence wasn't exactly normal, right? Then again, maybe she should enjoy every second she could get. Today was Friday, the absolute last day of school before summer break, meaning she wouldn't get to see Chuuya in person for months.

“Uh,” Chuuya blinked a few times, breaking the trance. “My friends have kind of a band, and we're going to be playing a few shows this summer.”

“We?” Dazai tilted her head to the side, confused.

Chuuya nodded. “Yeah, I managed to wriggle my way in—after a whole lot of begging, but I'm going to play rhythm guitar.”

Dazai's jaw dropped open. “You know how to play the guitar?”

“I know enough to get by, I guess.” She shrugged offhandedly.

Dazai blinked a few times. Wow.

“Anyway, our first gig is next Tuesday, and we've got another little festival show later in the month, so…” Chuuya rolled her eyes, looking suddenly a bit more self-conscious. “I was wondering if you wanted to come. You can bring your friends, too—help us pack the venue a bit. It's an outdoor street festival, so there'll be food trucks and stuff.”

Dazai stared up at her, entirely paralyzed. “Yes. Of course. I don't have anything else to do anyway…” She offered a dumb smile.

“Really? Awesome.” Chuuya beamed. “We're still sorting out the setlist, but what's your favorite song? Maybe I can actually convince the others to play a cover of it.”

Dazai felt her face instantly catch fire. “Uh? What? No, what? I—I don't want to be a bother, no, uh… I don't know.” She swallowed hard, frantically looking down at her desk. “A song… Wait, what genre do you guys play anyway?”

“I dunno, mostly rock stuff, so I guess we fall under that umbrella,” Chuuya answered.

“Uh…” Dazai's mind went completely blank. In that single instant, she forgot every single song she had ever heard in her entire life. “I—I have no idea…”

The next thing she knew, Chuuya's hand was right against her skin, gently cupping her chin and forcing her to look right back into those bright eyes.

“Are you okay?” Chuuya tilted her head slightly, looking amused. “It's just a song, Dazai.”

Just a song?! Chuuya was offering to play Dazai's favorite song just for her?! Maybe she was being dramatic, but Dazai was pretty sure this constituted a legitimate emergency. And as if that wasn't enough to induce cardiac arrest, Chuuya lingered for a second, her thumb brushing softly across Dazai's jaw before sliding up to tuck a loose lock of hair neatly behind her ear.

Was she dreaming? Had she fallen asleep in class and slipped into some kind of fever dream? What is happening?

Dazai gripped the edge of her desk tightly with both hands, taking shaky, desperate breaths as the most aggressive swarm of butterflies imaginable tore through her stomach.

“Dazai? Is something wrong?”

Dazai could only manage a slow shake of her head.

“So…?” Chuuya prompted softly.

Dazai just smiled back helplessly.

“She plays the guitar, Ranpo!” Dazai grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a frantic little shake. “Can you actually believe that?”

Ranpo shoved her away lightly with a raised eyebrow. “Does she now?”

Dazai nodded rapidly, a dopey grin plastered across her face as she clasped her hands together. “Isn't she just the coolest?” she giggled, practically vibrating. “You have to come with me next week! She's in a band with some of her friends, and they're playing a gig.”

“Go with you?” Ranpo shrugged casually. “Sure, why not. I literally have nothing better to do since Poe is out of town for the summer,” she added, pouting dramatically.

Dazai reached out and patted Ranpo's head with mock sympathy. “There, there. A little loud rock music is bound to cure all your romantic sorrows.”

“Isn't that little ginger practically begging to be your girlfriend?” Ranpo swatted Dazai's hand away instantly, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I hate to get your hopes up, but I think—and you know I'm never wrong about these things—that there is definitely something going on,” she smirked. “She's interested, dummy. Every move counts from here on out, so don't blow it.”

Dazai blinked at her, her heart skipping a beat. “Wait, something?”

“Anyway, let's go home—actually, can I come over to yours? I'm so bored,” Ranpo cut herself off, pivoting on her heel and starting down the hallway. “I refuse to sit alone in an empty house and remember that my girl is miles and miles away,” she whined.

Dazai sighed, hurrying up to match her pace. “It's only for a few months, Ranpo.”

“That is an eternity!” Ranpo huffed. “She should be right here right now, snuggling me into oblivion.”

“Says the exact same person who physically recoils the second someone gets within three feet of her personal space,” Dazai rolled her eyes playfully.

“Shush your mouth!”

The walk to Dazai's house was short—which was probably half the reason Ranpo wanted to go there in the first place, since it meant AC without enduring a long trek in the summer heat. Besides, Dazai's parents had known Ranpo literally forever, so she practically lived there anyway. After raiding the pantry and smuggling a handful of snacks back to Dazai's bedroom, they cranked up the air conditioning and parked themselves right on the floor. They spent a good while playing on Dazai's Switch; even though Ranpo was genuinely good at video games, she was also lazy, meaning it was sometimes an easy win for Dazai, and sometimes an absolute sweep by Ranpo.

Eventually, they switched to something a bit calmer, but Mario Party turned out to be so slow-paced that Ranpo started yawning every two seconds. The only thing keeping her upright was the bag of chips she kept mindlessly munching on. Once those were gone, she slumped forward, resting her head heavily on Dazai's shoulder without even pressing a button when her turn came up.

“Ranpo.”

“…'s the cold—uh, playing… I…” Ranpo mumbled into Dazai's shirt, her words completely slurring together into an incoherent mess.

Sensing defeat, Dazai paused the game, slipped the strap off Ranpo's wrist, and powered down the Switch, trying not to jostle her too much. “Okay, come on. You can crash on my bed.”

“…'s too hot over there,” Ranpo groaned.

“I left the AC running, it's freezing in here now.”

“…no.”

Dazai smiled to herself, letting out a soft sigh as she leaned back against the wall. The cool air was starting to make her sleepy, too, though sitting upright on the floor wasn't exactly a long-term sleeping plan. Realizing that Ranpo's neck was going to be wrecked if she stayed slouched sideways, Dazai carefully slipped an arm behind Ranpo's back. The gentle movement stirred her just enough for Dazai to guide her down so she could rest her head comfortably across Dazai's lap.

She used to be terrified of getting too close because Ranpo kept subtly backing away. Back then, even though they shared the exact same brain cell, Dazai had half-convinced herself that Ranpo just plain didn't like her. But it turned out it wasn't personal at all, Ranpo simply despised uninvited physical contact. Over time, things had shifted. Ranpo didn't mind Dazai's presence anymore, though Dazai still made a point to respect her boundaries and let Ranpo initiate closeness on her own terms—unless Dazai was feeling mischievous, in which case she would intentionally shake Ranpo's shoulders just to earn a dramatic death glare (or a shove like earlier).

Eventually, though, Ranpo sat up, rubbed one of her eyes, and yawned. She stood up and gave Dazai's foot a light tap with her own.

“Up.”

“Up what?”

“To the bed.”

“You can go ahead, yes,” Dazai murmured, completely confused.

“Just stand up, dummy,” Ranpo muttered, rolling her eyes.

Dazai stared at her for a suspicious moment before finally getting to her feet. “Okay, what now?”

Ranpo turned toward the mattress and flopped straight down onto it. “Come're.”

“Oh, ho, look at you being all clingy,” Dazai teased instantly, walking over to the bed and swaying side to side. “I might just have to text Poe and let her know how incredibly needy her girlfriend is being.”

“Keep that up and I'll personally text Chuuya and tell her what a horrible person you are.”

Dazai let out a gasp and scrambled onto the bed next to her. “Why would you use the ultimate weapon against me?! That's dirty!”

“Because I'm mean.”

“I thought we were friends!” Dazai whined. “I thought we were bound by soul-sister magic!”

“You thought wrong,” Ranpo huffed, turning her back to face the wall. “Now shush and go to sleep.”

Even though Chuuya had told her they were going on at five, Dazai was already at the festival venue by three. She just wanted to scope out the area first, of course—and maybe, just maybe, catch a glimpse of Chuuya before the set started. She had ended up inviting Atsushi and Kunikida along, too, figuring it would be a fun way for everyone to hang out. The venue was a riot of yellow and blue decorations, with balloons of every shape imaginable, costumed performers walking around, mix of street food smells, music blaring from every direction, and a buzzing crowd.

With so much going on, it was a little dizzying, but having her friends around helped ground her. Ranpo, naturally, had spent way too much money on snacks; and while she tossed them the occasional handful, she had eaten the lion's share herself, resulting in a dramatic slump by twenty to five where she complained she was entirely too full to move another inch.

“We should probably go secure a decent spot,” Atsushi suggested, peering nervously around the thick wall of people. “It's packed out here. Once the music starts, it's going to be impossible to get close to the stage.”

“You're an absolute genius, Atsushi-kun!” Dazai immediately threw an arm around Atsushi's shoulders. “We need to be right up front, practically touching the barricade.”

“That is counterproductive,” Kunikida muttered, adjusting her glasses with a huff. “We won't even be able to see them properly if we're standing right underneath the speakers.”

“Ah, but we'll feel them, Kunikida-kun,” Dazai grinned mischievously.

“I do not want to 'feel' a high school indie rock band,” Kunikida made a face, pulling back in disgust. “That… sounds unsanitary,” she grumbled.

“Maybe we can aim for somewhere in the middle?” Atsushi suggested helpfully, before suddenly flinching and darting behind Dazai's back like a frightened kitten.

“Are you alright?” Dazai asked, glancing over her shoulder at her.

“Just keep walking…” Atsushi hissed in a whisper. “Please.”

“Who did you spot?” Dazai teased, though she kept moving forward.

“It doesn't matter,” Atsushi mumbled frantically.

“You don't need to hide behind people like that,” Kunikida scoffed. “Whoever it is, you have every right to be here. This is a public festival.”

They finally forged their way toward the stage, where stagehands and crew members were busy final-adjusting equipment. Since the massive crowds hadn't fully crammed into the viewing area yet, they managed to snag a few plastic chairs sitting near the front platform and collapsed into them.

“So you dragged us out here two hours early and you still haven't seen Chuuya?” Ranpo sighed loudly, flopping back in her chair. “Aren't you—”

“We were looking around,” Dazai cut her off quickly, flushing. “Besides, I was busy babysitting you guys.”

“Oh, right, the volleyball captain is playing today,” Kunikida murmured, looking around vaguely. “Why are we here for an athlete, again?”

“Because Dazai-san likes her…” Atsushi offered quietly.

“You cannot just broadcast my deeply classified feelings like that!” Dazai shrieked, extending a foot to kick Atsushi's ankle gently. “What if she's near?! Oh my goodness…”

“Don't be so dramatic,” Kunikida rolled her eyes. “Wouldn't it be better if she knew? It would rip the band-aid off quickly. If she reciprocates, it's literally the perfect moment.”

“Have you lost your mind, Kunikida-kun?!” Dazai gasped, clutching dramatically at her chest. “Death before confessing!”

Kunikida blinked blankly. “Huh?”

“That's not how it works, Kunikida-san,” Atsushi gently corrected, shaking her head.

“Why not?” Kunikida crossed her arms firmly over her chest. “Being direct and straightforward is always the most efficient approach.”

“You have to read the room first,” Atsushi pointed out. “And test the waters to see if it's safe.”

“And if the other person doesn't feel the same way—?”

“You perish on the spot!” Dazai declared with conviction.

“No, you simply accept the rejection and move on with your life,” Kunikida finished dryly.

“Yeah, just like you got over Ka—”

“Aha! I need to use the restroom!” Atsushi bolted upright out of her chair, her eyes wide. “Is there a bathroom nearby? I'll be right back… yep, totally back in a second… uh!”

Dazai slowly turned her head to look at Ranpo. “What was that about?”

“Not my circus, not my monkeys,” Ranpo hummed innocently, pulling another handful of chips out of her bag.

“You are always keeping the juicy gossip,” Dazai groaned, rolling her eyes.

They hung out by the stage for a while, watching the crew prep the gear and do last-minute sound checks. Dazai kept alternating between scanning the crowd and checking her phone; when the clock hit five on the dot, a wave of impatience started to crawl up her spine. The band still hadn't taken the stage. Just as she spotted Atsushi weaving back through the sea of people, Dazai hoisted a bag off the adjacent chair so she could sit down. But when she turned back around to greet her, she collided straight into a pair of blue-and-brown eyes and a shock of vibrant ginger hair.

“Chuuya,” Dazai breathed out, her voice instantly dying in her throat.

She hadn't seen any of the other band members yet, but she definitely hadn't expected this level of production. Chuuya had blue streaks woven into her hair, topped with a pirate hat tilted at an angle. She was wearing dark brown eyeshadow, a long and cat-eye flick, striking red lipstick, and a cute little black star painted right on her cheekbone. She had black corset top with a heart-shaped neckline, billowy sleeves, and a cascade of layered necklaces. Her pants featured bold black-and-white vertical stripes, flaring out where they met tall platform boots.

She looked absolutely breathtaking. And look, Dazai didn't mean to shamelessly ogle her, but it was physically impossible to look away—from the countless tiny freckles scattered across her shoulders, to the way the corset perfectly hugged her chest.

“You came,” Chuuya said, standing right in front of her with a pleased smirk.

Dazai swallowed hard, her fingernails digging into the bandages of her forearms. “Why—why wouldn't I? I told you I would.”

“Hey,” Chuuya added, turning her head to nod at the others.

“Good afternoon,” Kunikida greeted politely, dipping her head slightly.

“Hi there, little red,” Ranpo grinned lazily from her seat.

“Stop giving me stupid nicknames,” Chuuya glared down at Ranpo, crossing her arms.

“Oh, I don't think I will ever stop!”

Chuuya rolled her eyes, though the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. “Anyway.” She turned her attention back to Dazai. “We're going on right after the opening band finishes setting up, okay?”

“Got it,” Dazai managed to squeak out, nodding.

The second Chuuya turned around and disappeared backstage, Dazai collapsed, burying her face in her hands.

“Chuuya-san looks really pretty today,” Atsushi observed softly as she finally slipped into the empty seat.

“She is always pretty!”

“I actually ran into her near the restrooms,” Atsushi continued.

“Wait, why did you bolt away like a scared animal earlier, anyway?” Dazai asked, popping her head up and taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart.

Atsushi immediately looked down at her lap, suddenly finding her fingers fascinating. “I just… saw someone,” she murmured. “I think you know her, actually. Akutagawa.”

“Which one of the siblings?” Dazai tilted her head.

“Ryunosuke.”

“Ah,” Dazai chuckled knowingly. “What's the deal with her?”

Atsushi shrugged, her cheeks dusting with pink. “We're just not… on the best terms right now, that's all.”

“Are you two fighting?” Kunikida chimed in, frowning.

“No, no… it's not a fight, just…” Atsushi clicked her tongue nervously. “Stuff.”

“Oh, look at her, being all secretive!” Ranpo whined, leaning across the armrest. “We literally share our deepest, most embarrassing secrets with you, and this is how you repay us?”

Atsushi looked up at them with wide, pleading eyes, shaking her head. “No! I didn't mean—it's just—!”

“Relax, sushi-roll,” Dazai said fondly, reaching out to give her shoulder a reassuring pat.

“Sushi-roll?” Atsushi blinked slowly.

“Just tell us whenever you're ready,” Dazai finished with a wink.

A few minutes later, a man stepped onto the stage and took the mic to kick off the festival. Dazai didn't pay much attention to the announcements—she was a little too busy tracking Chuuya as she chatted with someone near the side wings before disappearing backstage. After what felt like an eternity of opening speeches, the man finally announced that the musical acts were ready to begin, starting with a band called The Black Lizard. Dazai stared blankly for a second, wondering where she recognized the name, before it suddenly clicked.

The Black Lizard was Gin's band! They were the ones who had torn the house down at the school talent show last year. Unable to help herself, Dazai beamed and waved enthusiastically at Gin, who was busy adjusting her guitar strap. Gin caught the movement, flashed a bright smile back, and gave a little wave before returning to her gear. Out of the corner of her eye, Dazai spotted Kaji on drums chatting with someone hiding behind the curtain, while Tachihara was awkwardly wrestling with a tangled mic cable. Then, she noticed a new addition: the band had always been a trio, but a blonde girl was currently stepping up to the front, adjusting the strap of a bass guitar.

When The Black Lizard launched into their first song, the surrounding crowd slowly began to swell and press closer to the front. Atsushi, meanwhile, looked like she wanted to shrink down to microscopic size the moment Akutagawa drifted anywhere near their section.

Barely fifteen minutes later, Tachihara was already shouting his goodbyes into the mic. Dazai had thoroughly enjoyed the energy and made sure to clap as loudly as she could.

A few minutes after that, a blonde girl wearing a pirate hat stepped out onto the stage. Dazai squinted—she recognized her from somewhere. As the rest of the band members filtered onto the platform, the puzzle pieces clicked. The Flags—that was what Chuuya had called them. They were all sporting coordinated pirate-rock aesthetics similar to Chuuya's, who casually strolled out last, looking cool. Not wanting to miss a single micro-expression, Dazai whipped out her phone and snapped a series of photos as they prepped their instruments. The second another blonde girl stepped up to the front mic, Dazai switched her camera over to video mode and hit record.

“We are so happy to be here!” the girl announced into the microphone with an infectious grin. “I hope you all love what we've put together for you!” She beamed brightly. “Please, call me Lady Lippman!”

“It's an absolute pleasure to meet you all, I'm Albatross!” the guitarist chimed in loudly over the feedback.

“Please call me Hana!” the keyboardist waved from behind her piano setup.

“We'll do our best,” the drummer added with a cool smirk. “I'm Ice… or Icy.”

“Hehe, let's rock this place!” the bassist giggled, plucking a bouncy, melodic intro on her strings. “You can call me Doc.”

Finally, Chuuya stepped up to her mic, her eyes scanning the front row until they locked directly onto Dazai. “I'm Chuuya,” she said. “We are The Flags.”

With that, Albatross struck the opening chords, and the music roared to life.

“What are you doin' here?” Chuuya asked, breathless as she finally stepped down off the stage and wiped a stray bead of sweat from her forehead.

“Chuuya was really good—all of The Flags, actually!” Dazai blurted out quickly, nodding enthusiastically. “Though with all your friends surrounding you up there, you looked just a little bit tiny—”

“What?!” Chuuya instantly scowled, her eyes narrowing. “Huh? Say that to my face, I dare you.” She stepped right up into Dazai's personal space, glaring daggers.

Dazai's face instantly caught fire, burning a vibrant shade of red. “Haha… hah… just a casual observation!”

Chuuya let out an unconvinced scoff and pushed past her toward the wings. Unsure if she had genuinely offended her or if Chuuya was just playing around, Dazai hurried to follow her straight into the backstage area, feeling out of place with the rest of the band members milling about. Still, she was buzzing with too much adrenaline to care—she had to let Chuuya know just how incredible she was, right?

Inside the makeshift green room, Chuuya tossed her pirate hat onto a chair, grabbed a bottle of water, and flopped unceremoniously onto a small sofa. Dazai hovered a few steps away.

“When Chuuya mentioned she knew how to play rhythm guitar,” Dazai chuckled nervously, wringing her hands, “I honestly didn't realize she sang, too!”

Chuuya blinked up at her slowly, a faint flush dusting her cheeks. “I was mostly just… doing backing vocals,” she mumbled, looking down to inspect her water bottle.

“But Chuuya literally took lead vocals on that last song!”

“Yeah, well…” Chuuya shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

“You guys all sounded amazing!” Dazai nodded eagerly. “And Chuuya was so energetic out there. She moves really smoothly, too. Does she have a dance background or something?”

Chuuya paused, glancing back up with a raised eyebrow. “Why on earth are you referring to me in the third person? I'm standing right in front of you.”

Dazai just offered an awkward smile.

Chuuya rolled her eyes, though a little smile broke through her scowl. “Thanks, I guess. I just… I've always liked movement. Of any kind, really.”

Dazai nodded rapidly. “I see.” She swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs.

The other members of The Flags quickly swarmed Chuuya to celebrate, leaving Dazai standing to the side. She offered a few polite nods and compliments about how great they'd sounded, but didn't want to intrude. Eventually, after a photographer wrangled the band for some post-show group shots, Dazai figured she should head back to find her friends—she didn't really want to hang around a bunch of strangers, even if Chuuya was among them.

Only problem? When she made it back to their designated spot, the chairs were empty. She scanned the crowd, but they were nowhere in sight. Pulling out her phone, she texted Ranpo, who replied a few minutes later explaining that Atsushi had suddenly bolted off with Akutagawa, leaving Kunikida and herself hanging out near a souvenir shop on the other side of the festival grounds. Dazai turned to go find them—

“Hey!”

“Yes?” Dazai spun around on her heel to find Chuuya jogging over to her.

“Um, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out with me and the band—we're gonna go grab some drinks and stuff.”

Dazai blinked slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Drinks? Chuuya, we're minors,” she pointed out with a playful look.

Chuuya huffed, rolling her eyes. “Well, most of my friends aren't,” she winked. “Come on, there's gonna be plenty of food, too.”

“I don't know… my parents would probably kill me if I came home smelling like a brewery,” Dazai muttered, instinctively hiding her hands behind her back.

“You don't have to drink alcohol.”

Dazai stared at her for a long moment.

She probably should have stayed put, or told Chuuya she was heading home to save herself the trouble. But she didn't. Instead, she quickly texted Ranpo to let her know Chuuya had invited her somewhere, and then she fell right into step beside Chuuya.

At first, it was a little intimidating; Chuuya's older friends were loud and unfazed by anything. But they were surprisingly welcoming, and eventually, Dazai found herself actually participating in the conversation. They had headed to a nearby restaurant, starting out with heavy plates of food before slowly transitioning into ordering drinks. Because the older members of the group were handling the ordering, they managed to blend right in without any awkward questions from the staff.

Okay, in hindsight, Dazai really shouldn't have started drinking. She only did it because Chuuya was doing it, and she desperately wanted to look cool and effortless! She knew that giving in to social pressure was dumb, but it was only a few glasses... and she had never been drunk before in her life.

After a few rounds, though, the alcohol caught up. Chuuya started giggling uncontrollably, frequently leaning her full weight against Dazai's shoulder as she talked. And while Dazai didn't feel particularly dizzy, she found herself laughing hysterically at literally everything Chuuya said. Was she drunk? She didn't care enough to check.

“Right, Zai?” Chuuya slurred happily, suddenly throwing an arm around Dazai's shoulders and pulling her in close. “Tross looks like she would literally fight or fuck everyone in a five-mile radius.”

Dazai glanced sideways at her, flushed. “Uh… I mean, probably,” she chuckled softly.

“See?!” Chuuya giggled, leaning her head right against Dazai's collarbone. “Don't try to deny it! What's even wrong with being bi, anyway?”

Dazai wasn't processing a single word the rest of the table was saying anymore. Chuuya was sitting so close she could feel the heat radiating off her skin, and Dazai was ninety percent sure Chuuya could hear the frantic, jackhammer rhythm of her heartbeat.

“Zai? She's just a friend,” Chuuya huffed out a breath. “A really pretty friend.”

Dazai let out a nervous giggle. “Zai?”

“What, don't you like the nickname?” Chuuya whispered, blinking up at her slowly.

“It's… fine,” Dazai mumbled, her face burning.

Chuuya grinned sleepily at her. “You look cute with your glasses on… why don't you wear them to school more often?” she mumbled.

“My head kind of hurts,” Dazai murmured, feeling overwhelmed by how close Chuuya's face was.

Chuuya pouted sympathetically. “Aw… well, you look gorgeous anyway,” she smiled softly, holding Dazai's gaze. “I—I really like—” She let out a hiccup, immediately bursting into a fit of giggles. “Oops. I like your big eyes. You look like a total dork.”

“A dork?”

“Hm… Doe-eyed? What's the—hm,” Chuuya slurred, waving a hand dismissively. “Whatever. Just keep looking at me.”

As if she could stop…

Dazai wasn't entirely sure how she even managed to make it home, but the instant she stepped through the front door and her mother immediately started chewing her out, she figured she must have survived the trip. Honestly, she couldn't bring herself to care about it or even the fact that her mom confiscated her Nintendo Switch for the foreseeable future. None of it mattered, because Chuuya had said all those things to her. Chuuya had looked at her like that.

Once she finally escaped to the safety of her bedroom and buried her burning face into her pillow, she wondered. Would a friend call her pretty? Well, yeah. Atsushi had done that before when she wore a nice outfit; completely normal friend behavior. Would a friend call her cute? Absolutely. Would a friend tell her to just keep looking at her? Okay, now that was considerably stranger. She felt a little lightheaded, so she wasn't entirely sure if her judgment was warped, but her gut immediately told her that wasn't a standard friend thing to say.

Sure, friends could call each other gorgeous or attractive; some people were just naturally affectionate like that. But…

Did Chuuya just mean she wanted Dazai to keep looking at her in that specific moment, or did she mean forever? Because, either way, Dazai would gladly oblige. It wasn't like she had a choice—she could never stop looking at Chuuya even if her life depended on it. Chuuya was simply breathtaking. How could anyone ever get tired of her?

Dazai managed to make it to another one of The Flags' gigs later that summer. It was a smaller, more intimate affair hosted as part of a restaurant event. Visibility was pretty terrible, though, mostly because she was still technically grounded, which meant her mother had insisted on tagging along to chaperone. Needless to say, the atmosphere was a little tense, forcing Dazai to actively suppress most of her energy.

“Can I go talk to my friend?” Dazai asked her mom the second the final set wrapped up. “Please, please! I promise I won't go anywhere far.” She flashed a pleading pout and gave her mother's arm a gentle shake.

“Fine. But don't go anywhere I can't keep an eye on you,” her mother warned, giving her a look.

“You're the best, love you!” Dazai blew a theatrical kiss in her direction and practically sprang to her feet.

She couldn't be entirely sure, but it almost looked like Chuuya knew Dazai would seek her out. The redhead was lingering near the side of the small platform, idly brushing her fingers over the strings of her guitar. Dazai took a few deep breaths and tried to keep her cool as she stepped up.

“Hi,” Dazai said, hovering a few feet away.

Chuuya glanced over, instantly stepping a little closer. “Are you okay? You've just been… replying to my messages super late lately…?”

Dazai blinked, a nervous chuckle slipping past her lips. “Ah… well, I'm grounded. So my mom only lets me have my phone for a few hours a day. And… she's actually here with me right now.”

Chuuya's jaw dropped slightly. “Oh. Oh man, I'm so sorry! I honestly thought you were just being dramatic that day.” She clicked her tongue, looking genuinely guilty. “I really didn't mean to get you grounded.”

“It's fine,” Dazai shrugged offhandedly. “Anyway, a girl's gotta have a little rebellious phase while she can, right?”

Chuuya let out a heavy sigh, tapping her guitar's neck against her palm. “I guess. Maybe I should go talk to your mother. It wasn't even your idea—I basically forced—”

“Chuuya, you didn't force me,” Dazai laughed softly, shaking her head. “I chose to drink. It's totally fine.”

Chuuya huffed, biting her lip. “…I should talk to her anyway,” she muttered, looking around. “Where is she?”

Dazai swallowed hard, her eyes going wide. “There's really no need for that!”

“Alright, alright,” Chuuya sighed, relenting. She glanced over her shoulder one more time before leaning in close, invading Dazai's personal space. “I'm really sorry, okay?”

“It's fine, Chuuya. Really.”

That clearly didn't satisfy her. Without warning, Chuuya reached out, placed a hand gently on Dazai's shoulder, and leaned in just an inch further to press the softest kiss against Dazai's cheek. Dazai froze, feeling her entire soul burst into flames. She briefly considered never washing the left side of her face ever again—though, on second thought, maybe that sounded a little less romantic and a lot more unhinged.

“I'm sorry,” Chuuya whispered against the air.

“Chuuya's… completely forgiven,” Dazai murmured, breathless.

Chuuya pulled back just enough to raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, is that all it takes for you to forgive someone? A kiss?”

Dazai blinked, tilting her head with a confused look. “What?”

“I gotta go!” Chuuya blurted out suddenly, turning on her heel with a bright grin. “Bye!”

The first few days of the new school term were brutal. Dazai had grown too accustomed to doing an absolute grand total of nothing all summer long, meaning she was ready to pass out from exhaustion after just three hours of classes. The only saving grace, of course, was Chuuya. Not only had she started sitting much closer to Dazai during shared periods, but she even fell into step right beside Ranpo and Dazai when they walked to class. And then there was the library incident. On Thursday, when Dazai decided to skip the cafeteria and escape to the library for some peace and quiet, Chuuya miraculously tracked her down.

It wasn't like Chuuya actually needed to be in the library at that exact hour, either...

“I didn't see you at the cafeteria,” Chuuya said, walking right up to the study table and resting her hands on the edge. “Ranpo told me you probably crawled in here to hibernate. Can I… sit?”

Dazai blinked up from her book. “Go right ahead.” She pushed her glasses up.

Chuuya pulled out the chair and sat down right next to her, barely leaving a couple of inches of space between them. It wasn't like she needed to crowd her, but Dazai certainly wasn't going to complain or move away.

“Are you still grounded?” Chuuya asked softly after a moment.

“No,” Dazai whispered. “I'm a free woman.”

“So… you can come over to my place after school today?” Chuuya glanced sideways at her through her lashes.

“I suppose I can manage that.”

And so she did.

Once they were settled in Chuuya's room, they immediately dove into video games. Chuuya seemed utterly obsessed with Mortal Kombat. It was a relatively straightforward fighting game, but Chuuya was good at it, which made total sense. Dazai, who hadn't touched a controller in months, was rusty, and Chuuya swept the first few rounds. Hearing Chuuya's triumphant laugh ringing out, paired with the way she shifted excitedly on the floor right next to Dazai, was heaven.

When she started turning the tables and winning match after match, Chuuya's laughter quickly devolved into outrage, punctuated by aggressive button-mashing and swearing. Watching Chuuya throw a tantrum over a video game was just as entertaining as hearing her laugh. As Dazai continued her winning streak, Chuuya resorted to giving her half-hearted shoves to the shoulder and loudly accusing her of cheating. Even though Dazai wasn't actually cheating, she kept her mouth shut, letting Chuuya wallow in her delightful annoyance.

Of course, a "grumpy" Chuuya didn't actually mean business. Between matches, Chuuya constantly checked to make sure Dazai had enough snacks, offered her water, asked if she was sitting comfortably, and checked if she wanted to queue up another round. Dazai quickly realized that Chuuya didn't hate losing to her, because it was all just part of the fun.

They naturally gravitated back to Mortal Kombat for a rematch.

“Chuuya should really pick a small character, you know? Something that matches her vibe,” Dazai teased, knowing full well how much Chuuya despised being called short. It was just too easy of a target.

“Huh?!” Chuuya whipped her head around, narrowing her eyes. “What's that supposed to mean? Small doesn't mean powerless, you idiot!”

“Did I say a single word about power? Nope! I said small, short, tiny, microscopic!” Dazai stuck her tongue out playfully.

“Right. Let's make a bet,” Chuuya proposed. “If I win this round, you never, ever call me short again.”

“What?” Dazai laughed out loud, leaning back against the couch. “It's just a adjective! Do you know what adjectives do? They describe things accurately!”

Chuuya flipped her off, shoving her hand right into Dazai's personal space to physically emphasize her point.

“Fine, okay. And if I win…” Dazai tapped her chin with a finger, humming thoughtfully. “Chuuya has to do whatever I want for—let me think… for one whole hour.”

“One hour?” Chuuya squinted suspiciously. “Alright. But don't get any weird ideas…” She pointed a warning finger right at Dazai's nose. “If you say something creepy, I'm kicking you out.”

“Aw, look at that, Chuuya is already conceding defeat before we even start!” Dazai grinned triumphantly.

Chuuya reached out and sharply flicked Dazai right between the eyes. “Shut the fuck up! I am going to beat you!”

As it turned out, Chuuya lost—though she didn't go down without a fight, pushing Dazai to her limits. The second the final KO flashed across the screen, Chuuya tossed her controller aside in disgust and stood up, leaving Dazai confused until she came back a moment later clutching a small juice bottle. She dropped back down beside Dazai, crossing her arms and scowling fiercely.

“Aw, don't make that tragic face,” Dazai hummed, resting her chin in her hand. “Chuuya honestly gave it her all.”

“I hate you so much right now…” Chuuya mumbled, glaring daggers at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Noooo, don't say that,” Dazai whined playfully, leaning in a fraction closer. She nearly reached out to grab Chuuya's arm and shake it, but stopped herself just in time. “I promise I'll be nice! I'm not going to order you to do anything terrible, I swear.”

“You better not…” Chuuya set her juice bottle down on the carpet and turned to face Dazai cross-legged, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Spit it out. What do you want?”

Dazai turned toward her as well, her eyes lighting up. “Since Chuuya has to do whatever I ask for a whole hour, my first demand is that she has to answer my questions.”

“Sure. Go ahead,” Chuuya shrugged lightly, looking unfazed.

“Okay… so, Chuuya mentioned before that she watched the Resident Evil movies, but I was wondering—has she actually ever played the games?” Dazai tilted her head, batting her eyelashes.

“I played the remake of the fourth one,” Chuuya admitted, picking at a loose thread on her shorts. “Just that one, honestly. The rest of them are kind of pricey, and trying to pirate them on my laptop was a nightmare, so I just gave up.” She scrunched her nose.

“Oh! Would Chuuya want to play them, then?” Dazai leaned in closer, a grin spreading across her face. “Because I actually own all of them. I—I mean, I could help her play through them! I've basically replayed every single title a thousand times.”

Chuuya raised an eyebrow, looking skeptically at her. “All of them?”

“My parents really don't care how many games I buy,” Dazai nodded airily. “Besides, they aren't even that expensive when they go on sale.”

“Oh, great, just casually rubbing your rich-kid status right in my face, are we?” Chuuya scoffed, rolling her eyes with a half-smile.

“What? No!” Dazai laughed defensively. “I'm offering to share my library with you!”

“Well,” Chuuya paused, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “I suppose that means I'm going to have to come over to your place sometime to check them out, then…”

Dazai's heart skipped a beat, though she tried her best to play it cool. “Of course. My door is always open.”

“So, what else do you hoard in that massive collection of yours, Lady Moneybags?” Chuuya teased, her lips twitching upward.

Dazai let out a chuckle. “Oh, you name it—if it exists, I probably own it…”

“Hm, there are actually a ton of games I've always wanted to try,” Chuuya murmured, hugging her knees to her chest. “Like, the last one I watched a full playthrough of was about the backrooms… wait, no, it was that other one,” she clicked her tongue, searching her memory. “Superliminal, that's what it's called.”

“The puzzle one where you can manipulate perspective to make things bigger or smaller?” Dazai tilted her head. “I think I've seen clips of it online.” She pulled out her phone and quickly typed the title into the search bar. “Oh, yep, right here. I haven't actually played it myself, though.”

Chuuya scooted a little closer, leaning over to peek at the screen. Dazai looked up, and for a second, their eyes locked. Well, at that point, Dazai really had no other choice. She pulled up the Steam store page, saw it was currently on sale, and bought it instantly. It was destiny! And if it happened to serve as a foolproof excuse to have Chuuya over at her house to play it together in the near future? Well, she certainly wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Oh my goodness, you literally just bought it,” Chuuya snorted, shaking her head. “Just like that.”

“Yes?” Dazai blinked innocently.

“I feel so ridiculous… you just dropped money on a game you've never even played before, all because I mentioned it,” Chuuya muttered.

Dazai laughed softly. “Oh, don't worry about it at all. Honestly, Ranpo is basically the exact same way—I've bought her tons of games over the years. I genuinely don't mind. If you ever want anything, seriously, just tell me.”

Chuuya blinked at her slowly. “I could never.” She quickly looked away, a faint pink dusting her cheeks.

“Why not? I'm giving you permission,” Dazai sang-songed, locking her phone and tossing it aside.

“No, no, no,” Chuuya shook her head firmly. “Your parents probably work so hard so you can afford all of this stuff, and here I'd be, just taking advantage of it for video games…”

“Well, I use it for video games”

“You're their daughter, that's different,” Chuuya muttered, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

“And Chuuya's my friend,” Dazai replied.

Chuuya shot her a look before finally letting out a defeated sigh. “…Since you already bought the stupid game, I suppose we have to play it together sometime… you know, eventually.”

Dazai grinned triumphantly. “It's a date—I mean, a playdate!” She nodded rapidly to cover her slip-up. “Anyway, I still have about thirty minutes left on my hourly prize. So… why doesn't Chuuya go get me a snack?”

“I'm going to bring you the worst, most expired thing I can find in my pantry,” Chuuya threatened, scrambling to her feet with a smirk.

“Hey!” Dazai whined, laughing as Chuuya darted out of the room.

Chuuya didn't poison her or feed her expired trash; she just tossed her a small bag of roasted peanuts. Dazai joked that Chuuya was lucky she wasn't allergic, and since sitting there eating dry peanuts by herself wasn't nearly entertaining enough, Dazai decided to exploit her winner's status. She demanded that Chuuya feed them to her. At first, it was just a funny power trip, and Dazai couldn't stop giggling at the death glares Chuuya was shooting her. But as the minutes ticked on, Chuuya's expression went blank, her gaze suddenly dropping down and locking intently onto Dazai's mouth.

Dazai's entire respiratory system instantly stalled. Of course, Chuuya wasn't actually going to kiss her or anything crazy like that... right? Still, the sudden shift in the air made Dazai's stomach flip. Thankfully, Chuuya broke the tension by flicking a peanut right at Dazai's face.

“So mean,” Dazai whined, rubbing her nose.

Chuuya just rolled her eyes, grabbed the last peanut, and lobbed it straight at Dazai's face again.

Dazai pouted dramatically, reaching out to give Chuuya's shoulder a light shove. “You evil little ginger!”

Chuuya's eyes flashed dangerously. “Little!?”

Dazai laughed, doubling down. “Microscopic.”

“You're not even that much taller than me, you lamp post!” Chuuya glared, leaning over to snap her fingers against Dazai's forehead.

“Ow!” Dazai cried out, clutching the spot. “Oh, is that how you want to play? Fine! As part of my prize, I officially order Chuuya to stand up.”

Chuuya let out an aggressive huff and hauled herself to her feet. “What now?”

Dazai couldn't even fight the goofy grin plastered across her face. “I want Chuuya to dance. But not just any dance.”

Chuuya narrowed her eyes, instantly suspicious. “Then what kind?”

Dazai took a deep breath, though she was shaking with suppressed laughter. “Twerk.”

Chuuya blinked slowly, her lips parting, before she casually reached down and gave Dazai's ankle a kick. “I hate you. I hate you so damn much…”

“Wait, wait, don't panic! Let me queue up some music first!” Dazai held up a hand and scrambled for her phone.

“Oh my god,” Chuuya groaned, burying her face in her hands. “If you laugh at me for even a single second, I am going to rip your head off and mount it on my wall.”

“Aw, isn't Chuuya just a romantic?” Dazai teased, rapidly swiping through her playlist to find the right beat. “She wants my face on her bedroom wall so she can look at me forever.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?!”

“Found it! Start dancing!” Dazai announced triumphantly as the heavy bassline dropped.

For a few awkward seconds, Chuuya completely froze up, looking way too shy to actually go through with it. Dazai simply leaned back against the couch, crossed one leg over the other, and offered a smug little smirk while swaying slightly to the beat of the music. Staring daggers at her, Chuuya finally cracked a resigned smile and started moving—starting with a few very stiff hip swaying motions. Even if she wasn't exactly relaxing into the groove, she was definitely trying to twerk. Dazai wasn't one to judge—especially since Dazai herself moved like a stick insect whenever she tried to dance—but it was painfully obvious that Chuuya would rather be anywhere else in the universe.

“I know Chuuya can do better than that,” Dazai teased, resting her chin on her hand.

“You said twerk, and I'm fucking twerking!” Chuuya muttered through gritted teeth, glaring a hole straight through Dazai's skull. “It's not as easy as it looks!”

“Oh, I'm sure it's not. That just means you have plenty of room for improvement.”

Chuuya flipped her off with both hands, dropped lower into a crouch, turned slightly to the side, and aggressively bounced her hips back to the beat. Sure, it was wildly amusing to watch, but it was also a show. Chuuya was wearing shorts that hugged her legs perfectly, and combined with her fitted shirt, Dazai had a crystal-clear view of her silhouette.

“There. Are you happy?” Chuuya panted, shaking her head as she collapsed straight back down onto the couch. “Done.”

“Aw, but I didn't give the order to stop,” Dazai pouted, reaching over to pause the music on her phone.

“Well, I'm stopping,” Chuuya huffed, crossing her arms defensively. “Twerking is physically exhausting, and it's just plain awkward.”

“Is it now?”

“Yes!”

Dazai giggled. “Alright, fine. I suppose I'll let you off the hook. But since you still have time left, I want to see you move around. What else can you do? Are you even flexible?”

Chuuya shot her an offended look, hauled herself back to her feet with maximum dramatic flair, and took a deep breath. Without missing a beat, she dropped straight down into a flawless front split.

“Whoa,” Dazai said, completely feigning surprise as if she hadn't already seen this exact move from watching Chuuya stretch in PE class. “Okay, show-off. What else?”

Chuuya didn't stop there. She rolled onto her back, pulled her knees tight to her chest, and fluidly arched backward until her knees literally touched the floor on either side of her head. She held the contortion for a few seconds before gracefully rolling back up and sitting on the floor.

“What the…?! How does your spine even do that?”

Chuuya shrugged casually, looking completely unfazed. “I took self-defense classes and some mixed dance when I was a kid.” She stood up, and hesitated for a second before lifting one leg straight up into the air, holding her foot with her hand. “Though, honestly, I haven't practiced in a while, so I'm definitely losing my edge…” she mumbled, trying to stretch her leg even higher from behind.

Dazai's jaw dropped. “Seriously…? No way…” She blinked slowly.

Chuuya lowered her foot back to the carpet. “I actually wanted to be a ballerina when I was little,” she admitted, looking away. “But ballet is expensive as hell… and my parents thought it wasn't a practical career path. So they found this cheaper, local dance academy instead. I learned a lot of different styles there, though.” She offered a small nod.

“Okay, Chuuya seriously needs to stop right now,” Dazai threw her hands up into the air dramatically. “She's the star volleyball captain, she plays guitar, she sings, and she dances?! That's it, Chuuya is literally Barbie.”

“I am not,” Chuuya scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. “I—”

“And she's a genius at both math and literature,” Dazai eagerly chimed in. “At this point, I'm fully convinced Chuuya isn't even a real human being.”

Chuuya made an exasperated face, dropping her hands onto her hips. “First of all, dancing and volleyball aren't even that different—it's all about footwork and spatial awareness. And second of all, I don't dance anymore; I just took a few classes for a couple of years when I was a kid. I'm not a dancer.”

“Sure.” Dazai rolled her eyes playfully.

“And I only play guitar at a very basic level,” Chuuya continued, nodding firmly. “Math and literature just happen to make logical sense, so they're easy.”

Dazai offered a knowing smirk. “Of course they are.”

“So I'm not special,” Chuuya muttered.

“Chuuya is special. How on earth is one person supposed to be good at so many things?” Dazai tilted her head, her expression softening. “I certainly can't do all of that.”

“You're a massive nerd, that's your thing,” Chuuya pointed out.

Dazai let out a bright laugh. “Fair enough!”

“Well, not everyone has the same skill set,” Chuuya shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly.

Dazai waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway, back to this whole ballerina thing…” She cleared her throat, leaning forward. “Has Chuuya ever tried to do it? Do you know any of the… what are they called?”

“Not a full routine, at least,” Chuuya huffed, looking slightly embarrassed. “And most of the advanced stuff is hard…”

“Oh, come on! Why doesn't Chuuya show me something?” Dazai pressed her palms together in a pleading gesture. “Just show me anything. Please?”

Chuuya stared her down for a long moment before letting out a defeated sigh. “I hate you so much… alright, fine.” She stepped backward, creating a little bit of open space in the middle of the room. She stood tall, brought her heels together with her toes turned outward, took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and curved her arms gently in front of her waist. “First position.”

“That's it? Just standing like a penguin?”

“Yes, just that,” Chuuya snapped, looking away as a faint blush touched her cheeks. She shifted her feet slightly apart and opened her arms into a graceful curve. “Second position.”

“That one looks kind of funny.”

Ignoring the commentary, Chuuya slid her feet back into first position, bent her knees while keeping her torso upright, and then rose smoothly back up. “Demi-plié.” She crossed one foot neatly in front of the other and lifted both arms up into a rounded frame over her head. “Fifth position.”

“Why don't you just run through all the positions in order?” Dazai suggested, resting her chin on her hand.

“Silence, peasant,” Chuuya glared. She held her posture still for a few seconds before bending her knees slightly and giving a small, graceful hop to the side, landing back in fifth position—and repeating it once more. “Glissade.”

“Oh… Chuuya lands super softly anyway,” Dazai observed quietly.

Chuuya didn't say a word in response; she just kept her gaze fixed downward, gently turning her hands over to inspect her own fingers.

“Does Chuuya have a favorite move out of all those?” Dazai asked, tilting her head. “Because—like I said, I don't know anything about ballet, but I've always thought the little four-swan dance in Swan Lake looked really cool.”

“Ah, yeah, the Dance of the Little Swans? That one is gorgeous,” Chuuya nodded, a wistful smile touching her lips. “I always thought it was pretty, but...”

“Well, maybe Chuuya can still be a ballerina. It's not like it's too late,” Dazai encouraged, offering a smile. “Besides, you're ridiculously flexible.”

“I don't know…” Chuuya's expression faltered slightly, her shoulders drooping. She looked away, suddenly finding the carpet very interesting. “I mean… I've had a few bad ankle sprains from volleyball over the years, and… I don't even know if my body could handle it now anyway.” She offered a small shrug.

“Oh… well, if that's the case,” Dazai said, sensing the sudden shift in mood. She let out a soft breath and leaned back against the cushions of the couch. “Anyway, I think my one-hour prize is officially up. Chuuya is completely free now.”

“Finally,” Chuuya breathed out, a wave of relief washing over her face as she walked over and flopped down right next to Dazai on the sofa. She pulled her knees up to her chest. “Do you want to put on a movie or something? I'm kind of burnt out on video games for today.”

Dazai beamed, her heart doing a happy little flip at how naturally Chuuya gravitated back into her space. “I'd love that.”

“You still haven't updated me on anything, fake friend,” Ranpo muttered, eyeing Dazai suspiciously as they lined up on the gym floor. “Though honestly, I don't even need details. I can literally see with my own eyes that you and Chuuya are way closer now, right?” She waggled her eyebrows.

Dazai offered a smile. “I think so,” she mumbled, quickly crouching down to touch her toes. Since she had the flexibility of a plank, she naturally only made it about halfway down; the PE teacher certainly couldn't expect miracles. She straightened back up, twisted her torso to the side, and pulled one arm across her chest to stretch, anchoring it with her opposite hand.

“Very good. At least you'll finally stop hopelessly pinning over her,” Ranpo teased, putting forth absolutely zero effort into her own stretches as she lazily copied Dazai's stance.

“Why are you so mean to me?” Dazai whined, dropping her arms.

“That's just my love language,” Ranpo winked.

Dazai rolled her eyes.

They followed the instructor through the rest of the warm-up routine. Once that was out of the way, the teacher put them through a conditioning circuit. It was relatively straightforward for Dazai, but after a few minutes of jumping jacks and high knees, she felt like she was dying. Ranpo wasn't doing much better, but Dazai noticed that Ranpo somehow looked far less miserable than she did. It made zero sense! They actively avoided athletic activity with equal passion. Life was unfair.

Eventually, the teacher gave the class an ultimatum: soccer or volleyball for the remainder of the period. After an aggressive campaign of yelling from Chuuya to rally the troops, volleyball won.

The girls split into two teams, with the captains doing a snake draft to pick their rosters. Dazai honestly wanted nothing to do with it; she would have happily sat on the bleachers just to watch, but escaping wasn't an option. As players were called up, Dazai completely resigned herself to her fate, knowing she was going to be an anchor for whichever team got stuck with her. But to her shock, Chuuya called her name.

“Wait, no, Chuuya, abort mission, I'm a stick insect—!”

“You have to play on a team regardless,” Chuuya cut her off flatly, crossing her arms. “So you're playing on mine. Get over here.”

Dazai blinked at her before slowly shuffling over.

She ended up banished to the back corner position—setter, or back-row defender, or whatever, she honestly couldn't keep track over the deafening echoes of the gymnasium. She figured she'd be fine as long as the front-row did their jobs, and as long as the ball didn't violently murder her.

Naturally, the ball targeted her within the first two minutes.

After a brief volley back and forth, Dazai had actually started to relax, assuming the danger had passed her corner entirely. But out of nowhere, someone on the opposing team spiked the ball with the velocity of a cannonball. Dazai didn't even have time to register the trajectory before BAM—square in the center of her forehead.

She had raised her hands! She really tried! It just wasn't fast enough.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” Chuuya yelled, sprinting over from the net, entirely breathless as she grabbed Dazai by the shoulders.

“…Yeah,” Dazai groaned, blinking hard as the spot on her forehead began to throb. “Peachy.”

Chuuya yanked her down a bit to inspect the red mark, letting out a sharp huff of annoyance. “Don't just stand there like a statue! Move your feet! Keep your eyes glued to the ball!”

Dazai nodded rapidly, swallowing hard.

If the ball didn't hit her head, though, she still couldn't actually catch or return it. That pretty much summarized the rest of the match. She was deeply grateful that the rest of her team was skilled enough to carry her dead weight so they didn't completely lose points on her account. At one point, a stray ball slammed directly into her hand, stinging like mad; another time, it nearly took her nose off, though Dazai miraculously managed to duck out of the way just in time.

She was officially retiring from volleyball forever. She'd do anything to get out of it next time.

“How did you even manage to get hit that many times?” Chuuya asked, breathless and panting as she flopped down onto the bleachers right next to Dazai the second the whistle blew and the boys took over the court.

Dazai took a long sip from her water bottle before turning to look at her, wiping a drop of sweat from her cheek. “Pure skill. Flying objects just naturally gravitate toward my face.”

Chuuya huffed out a dry chuckle, rolling her eyes. “You never play, but I didn't think you were this hopeless.”

“Well, I live to shatter expectations,” Dazai winked, flashing a cheeky grin.

Chuuya sighed deeply, using her hand to fan her flushed face. “I guess you do.” She leaned down, unzipped her gym bag on the floor, and pulled out her own water bottle. She chugged half of it in seconds before leaning back against the metal bars of the bleachers with a groan.

She was sweating, her skin was flushed a brilliant pink, damp strands of hair were plastered against her forehead, and she was still catching her breath—yet Dazai found herself completely unable to look away.

Chuuya tossed her water bottle back into her bag and kicked it aside. The cooling air still wasn't doing the trick, so she grabbed the hem of her shirt and began using it to fan herself. Every time she lifted the fabric, it rode up just enough to flash a tantalizing strip of skin, offering a glimpse of her sports bra underneath. Chuuya's stomach was lightly damp with sweat, toned and firm yet somehow still soft around the edges.

Dazai would honestly give her entire college fund just for a single excuse to reach out and touch her…

While lost in thought, Chuuya absently started tugging at the small silver hoop in her bottom lip. At this point, Dazai couldn't tell if the lip-ring fidgeting was a nervous tick or just a habit. Their eyes suddenly locked across the gap between them, but Chuuya didn't break contact or stop tugging. Finally, with a soft huff, Chuuya sat up straight, let go of her piercing, yanked her shirt back down into place, and casually adjusted the strap of her sports bra over her shoulder.

“Hey, do you think time machines would actually work like they do in the movies?” Chuuya asked.

It took Dazai a solid three seconds to drag her brain back to reality and process the words. “Uh… hard to say. Probably not, though.”

“Right?” Chuuya frowned, resting her elbows on her knees. “First of all, how would they even calibrate where you go?”

“In movies, they just punch in a date and hit go,” Dazai pointed out, shaking her head. “But the earth is constantly rotating and orbiting through a moving universe. If you only went back in time without accounting for space, you'd probably materialize in the middle of empty vacuum and suffocate.”

Chuuya stared at her, blinking slowly. “Oh, right. Because a time machine isn't a teleportation machine.”

“Exactly. It would just shift your temporal coordinate, not your spatial one.”

“So… wait. How does the machine even know when you want to go?” Chuuya leaned closer. “Because, like… twenty-twenty-six is just a calendar system humans came up with, right? Time existed way before humans did.”

“Well, obviously.”

“So if you punch in, say, the year seventeen-ninety, wouldn't the machine just take you to that numerical date relative to the absolute beginning of the universe, or…?”

“And what if the universe didn't even have a beginning?” Dazai countered, arching an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “Maybe it's infinite. Then how does a temporal coordinate even work?”

“Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds,” Ranpo suddenly chimed in, strolling over with a smirk. “Pass me my bag, Dazai.”

Dazai blinked, glanced behind herself, and reached over to grab Ranpo's gym bag from the bench, handing it over.

“I'm going to go hit the showers and then head straight home, so I guess I'll catch you guys tomorrow,” Ranpo said, slinging the strap over her shoulder. “Have fun, you two!”

As soon as Ranpo disappeared into the locker room hallway, Chuuya stood up and stretched her arms high over her head, rolling her neck from side to side. “A shower sounds like heaven. Though the locker room stalls are probably slammed right now… Anyway, did you even stretch after that match? If you don't, your muscles are going to feel like broken glass tomorrow.”

Dazai blinked. “Ah… no?”

“Get your lazy ass up, then,” Chuuya ordered, shooting her a look as she bent one leg back to grab her foot for a quad stretch.

Dazai nodded rapidly and scrambled to her feet just ahead of Chuuya. She quickly stretched her arms out before trying to copy Chuuya's pose. She managed to mimic most of the routine, right up until Chuuya folded forward to touch her toes, resting her entire palms flat against the floor while Dazai hung midway down, barely grazing her shins. Cool, great, love that for her.

“I actually tried messing around with… some of those things,” Chuuya mumbled, straightening back up and rubbing the back of her neck. “You know, just following some beginner ballet warm-up videos on my phone…”

“Oh, really?” Dazai tilted her head, her interest piqued.

“Yeah. But like I said, my ankles aren't exactly in pristine condition. My left one started acting up during some of the pliés,” Chuuya made a face. “At one point, my leg shook so bad when I landed that I genuinely thought I’d sprained it all over again. Thankfully it's fine now, just made a really weird movement.” She scratched her cheek.

“Ouch… have you actually gotten that checked out by a doctor?” Dazai asked. “Maybe it never fully healed.”

“It didn't hurt until I started messing around with ballet stuff.” Chuuya waved a hand dismissively.

Dazai sighed, narrowing her eyes. “Maybe you should see a professional anyway, just to be safe.”

Chuuya shrugged, looking away. “Or maybe it's just a sign that it's not meant to be anymore.”

“A lot of professional dancers deal with injuries and still find a way back to the stage,” Dazai said softly, stepping a little closer.

“It's pointless,” Chuuya replied flatly. “And even if my ankle were 100% fine, I wouldn't have the time to dedicate to it anyway.” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I'm going to study Medicine in college, and I seriously doubt med school leaves much room for pirouettes.”

“Medicine?” Dazai blinked, her brows drawing together in surprise. “I didn't even know you liked science like that.”

“I don't particularly,” Chuuya clicked her tongue.

“Ah.” Dazai folded her hands behind her back.

She figured Chuuya had probably already heard every generic motivational speech in the book from her other friends, so she didn't bother offering them. More than anything, Dazai just wanted Chuuya to be happy and actually pursue what she loved—that was the universal wish for anyone you cared about. She just wasn't entirely sure if Chuuya would ever let anyone help her get there.

Without another word, the two of them turned and headed down the hall toward the locker rooms.

October certainly didn't start off on the right foot…

“Answer my messages, Dazai Osamu. Your mother just told me you aren't even sick!”

Dazai curled tightly into a ball, clutching the blankets up to her chin. She hadn't bothered looking at her phone since the weekend. She barely had the energy to exist, let alone scroll through notifications—sure, she’d lazily replied to a couple of random messages here and there, but that was it. Since her parents had both been out for work early that morning, she had easily skipped school. And when her mother had unexpectedly come home at noon, there hadn't been any explosive shouting; mothers just possessed some terrifying sixth sense for when their kids were falling apart. Dazai hated how well her mother could read her, even when they barely spoke two words to each other on a normal day. All her mom had done was tell her to eat some lunch, take a shower before evening, and pop in every now and then just to make sure Dazai was still breathing.

Now, though, she definitely hadn't expected Ranpo to physically show up at her house at… what time even was it? Dazai had no clue. The curtains were drawn, plunging her bedroom into perpetual twilight. Judging by when her mother had come home, it couldn't have been that late in the afternoon, but time had completely lost all meaning.

“Open the door—oh, nevermind, thank you, Ms. Dazai!” Ranpo’s voice echoed clearly from down the hall.

Dazai didn’t even need to turn around to know Ranpo had successfully breached the perimeter, because a second later, a hand poked her shoulder through the blankets.

“Hey. Are you actually alive under there?”

“…Unfortunately, yes,” Dazai muttered. “You checked. I'm breathing. Now leave.”

“Wow, why are you so hostile?” Ranpo demanded dramatically, giving Dazai a firm shake. “Come on, roll over and let me look at your face.”

Dazai refused to budge an inch.

“Chuuya was asking about you, you know.”

Dazai let out a low huff into the mattress, but still didn't move.

“Not even a reaction to that? Wow, it's bad bad.” Ranpo snorted softly, before reaching down and aggressively yanking the blankets off Dazai's head.

Dazai squinted, blinking up at her. “Happy now?”

“You look miserable,” Ranpo observed. She shifted closer, her eyes scanning the room and lingering on Dazai for a long moment. “Uh… your mom didn't give me many details at the door, so… can I assume you're clean?”

Dazai shot her a glare. “Aren't you supposed to be a genius, Sherlock?” She rolled her eyes, turned back onto her side, and pointedly presented Ranpo with her back.

“…I'll send you pictures of the lecture notes from today so you don't fall behind,” Ranpo said finally.

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes. I mean—no. Leave.”

Some soft rustling followed as Ranpo stood up from the edge of the mattress.

“Alright. Text me later if you need anything at all.”

Dazai just let out a non-committal hum into the pillow. A few seconds later, the door clicked shut.

“Dazai? Wait, I thought you didn't even come to school today!”

Hearing that voice echo down the hall, Dazai sluggishly lifted her head, resting her chin on her knees as she pulled them tightly to her chest. It was recess, which meant she could officially kiss any hopes of peace goodbye.

“What are you even doing sitting out here?” Chuuya marched over, dropping her backpack onto the floor with a soft thud before crouching down right in front of Dazai with a scowl. “Why haven't you gone to any of your classes?”

Dazai really didn't want to deal with worried looks or drag Chuuya down into her fog. She had only forced herself to show up at school in the first place so her mother wouldn't stress out; she certainly didn't have the energy to sit through doctor appointments, explain what she was feeling, or risk getting sent back to a psychologist who would just try to adjust her meds. But actually sitting through a full day of classes felt like a nightmare, so she’d chosen to hole up in an empty section of the hallway instead. Teachers rarely bothered her—either assuming she was part of a different class with a free period or simply accepting whatever vague excuse she tossed their way.

What was she even supposed to say?

“Didn't sleep well… just wasn't really feeling up for classes today…” Dazai murmured, staring at the floor.

“You know you can get suspended for skipping like this, right?” Chuuya muttered.

Dazai blinked slowly. “Yeah. Only if they actually catch me…”

Chuuya let out a soft sigh, slid down until she was sitting directly on the floor next to Dazai, and shifted them both slightly out of the way of the foot traffic moving down the corridor. “Is something wrong? You didn't reply to any of my texts yesterday…” Chuuya tilted her head, her gaze searching Dazai's face. “I mean, it's not like you have to text me back immediately, but, you know…” She trailed off, biting her lower lip.

“I didn't even touch my phone yesterday,” Dazai whispered. “I just… wasn't feeling great.”

“And today…?”

“Mmh.”

Chuuya absently tugged at the small silver hoop in her bottom lip, looking away for a second. “Is it… because of something specific?”

Dazai gave a small shake of her head.

“Ah…” Chuuya exhaled quietly. “Do you want to go grab something from the cafeteria together? Since it's still recess?”

“I'm not hungry…”

Chuuya clicked her tongue, letting out a huff of frustration. “Well, okay. But seriously—if you weren't even going to go to class, why did you bother coming to school at all?”

Dazai just offered a non-committal shrug. Chuuya narrowed her eyes, studying her closely.

“Oh, wow, look who finally decided to grace the institution with her presence,” Ranpo announced brightly, strolling over with a cup of juice in hand. “How are we feeling today, princess?”

“I'm fine,” Dazai mumbled, leaning her head back against the wall and looking up at her best friend through heavy-lidded eyes. “Now shoo. I want to be alone.”

Ranpo blinked, instantly dropping into a dramatic pout. “So cruel. I was actually going to invite you over to my place after school to watch movies, but now I definitely won't.”

“Great. Because I wasn't going to go anyway,” Dazai scowled, turning her face away.

“Fine, be a little shit. Text me if you miraculously change your mind,” Ranpo sighed, patting Dazai’s head lightly before turning on her heel.

Dazai listened to Ranpo's footsteps fade down the corridor, burying her face back in her arms as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Are you two… fighting?” Chuuya asked cautiously a moment later.

“No.”

“…What was that, then?”

“Nothing.”

“…Ah, okay.” Chuuya let out a hesitant huff. “I—I'll leave you alone, then.”

Dazai heard the rustle of clothes as Chuuya shifted. When she cracked one eye open, she saw Chuuya already starting to push herself up onto her feet. Panic spiked through her chest—she didn't actually want Chuuya to walk away. She didn't want Ranpo to leave, either. But she also didn't have a single drop of energy left to talk. What was she even supposed to say to them anyway?

So Chuuya left, and Dazai simply stayed put, staring blankly at the passing shoes of the students walking down the hallway. She was just wasting time; this was completely useless. Or maybe she deserved this inescapable loop of nothingness because nothing made any sense anymore. That was what she was, a flower sitting against a wall, displaying open petals to the room while completely hollow on the inside; no one could ever see what was actually happening beneath the surface, because you couldn't talk to a plant. Plants didn't have a voice.

Actually, maybe even when she wasn't feeling like this, that was all she ever was. She was just a thing trying its best to mimic a human so it could blend in and interact with others. But why? She had no idea. She spent all her time doing absolute nothingness. She woke up for nothing, she got dressed for nothing, she ate, consuming her parents' groceries and wasting their money, for nothing; she came to school and sat in a chair to absorb knowledge she would never use; she had friends for nothing—could something like her even have real friends?; she slept for nothing, moved for nothing, breathed for nothing, she had been born for nothing.

Because she wasn't even that important to anyone. Her friends all had other people, those special few they actually clicked with. Ranpo had Poe, who was essentially her other half. Atsushi barely even talked to Dazai half the time. Kunikida had her own inner circle. Oda and Ango had their own crowd at university. Chuuya had her own best friends. They all just talked to Dazai because she happened to be there; just like everything else in this world, relationships existed simply because they occupied space. If she suddenly started avoiding all of them, Dazai honestly didn't think they'd care all that much.

And the worst part was, she didn't even feel sad about it anymore. She was just tired of knowing it and still having to drag herself through the motions of existing. If life had no inherent meaning, then death was meaningless too, but at least death would finally put an end to this exhausting loop of suffering.

“Dazai-san?”

“Hi, Atsushi-kun…” Dazai murmured.

Atsushi just stared down at her, her brows knitting together. Without a word of preamble, she crouched down right in front of Dazai. “You can totally say no. But… can I give you a hug, Dazai-san?”

Dazai blinked. “What?”

“…Is that a no?” Atsushi tilted her head.

Dazai swallowed hard, and let out a shaky breath. “Yeah… no, go ahead.”

Atsushi didn't waste a second. As soon as Dazai uncrossed her legs a fraction, Atsushi leaned forward and wrapped her arms gently around Dazai's shoulders, holding her close. Atsushi didn't say a single word. Dazai inhaled slowly, catching the faint scent of sweet vanilla perfume clinging to Atsushi. Slowly, Dazai raised her arms and hugged her back. After a few seconds, Atsushi pulled back, offering a small smile.

“You never really know when it'll be the last time you get to hug someone,” Atsushi said softly. “So you always have to make sure you hug your friends when you can.”

She didn't quite know what the pain in her chest meant, or why the world had suddenly blurred into a smear of tears. Atsushi was probably just doing what anyone would do when someone looked down—after all, nobody actually wanted someone to die, even if they only cared about them in passing. She felt pathetic, because those few words had attacked her.

Dazai buried her face in her hands, but it was already too late.

“Dazai-san?!” Atsushi gasped, her eyes going wide with panic. “What's wrong? Did I say something wrong? Did the hug make it worse?”

Dazai shook her head rapidly, sniffling as a stray tear slipped down her chin. She dragged the sleeves of her sweater aggressively across her cheeks, taking deep, shaky breaths until the burning sensation in her throat began to recede. When she finally looked back up, Atsushi was staring at her with deeply concerned eyes. Dazai forced a wet chuckle.

“Are you okay?” Atsushi pressed gently.

“Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?”

“I just thought it might have been something I said,” Atsushi shrugged helplessly, biting her lip. “Though… crying is fine, you know. Perfectly fine. Good, even. Great, even. Cry all you want.”

Dazai blinked slowly, a watery smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Or don't. That's fine too,” Atsushi added quickly, letting out a nervous chuckle of her own. “I just… wanted to say that whatever is going on, there's always a way through it. And if there isn't…” She pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “Well, then we can always just run away to the other side of the world together.”

“Aw, is Atsushi-kun offering to come with me?” Dazai giggled, wiping away the last of her tears.

“Unexpected international vacations,” Atsushi nodded solemnly.

“You're so sweet,” Dazai said softly, tilting her head as she looked at her, then she reached out, gently patting Atsushi's head. “Thank you, Atsushi-kun. Truly.”

“For what?” Atsushi asked, blinking in confusion.

“Butterflies can't see how truly beautiful their own wings are.”

“Oh… what?” Atsushi blinked again. “I mean, yes, that's a nice sentiment, but what does that even have to do with anything?”

Dazai laughed out loud. “It's okay to be a little bit of a ditz, sushi.”

Even though Dazai still didn't step foot inside a single classroom for the rest of the school day, she hung around near her friends' turf. She still felt a bit like a flower—maybe a sunflower—but the crying had definitely helped drain some of the pressure from her chest. So, when the final dismissal bell rang, it was totally a massive coincidence that she happened to cross paths with Kunikida right outside the door. (Of course, she definitely hadn't been lingering in the hallway waiting for her class to let out...)

“Oh, good, there you are,” Kunikida said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I didn't see you at lunch today, so I assumed you hadn't even come to school. How are you holding up? Ranpo mentioned you weren't feeling well yesterday. You look a little pale…”

Kunikida’s straightforward concern hit Dazai a little, it made her feel fragile, and the mere thought of trying to form coherent sentences was too much work. Instead of answering, Dazai just took a small step forward and dropped her forehead heavily against Kunikida's shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Kunikida asked immediately, her rigid posture softening instantly. When she received no verbal reply, she cautiously wrapped her arms loosely around Dazai's back. “Did you stay up all night gaming again? Look at the dark circles under your eyes, Dazai, they're terrible.”

Dazai let out a non-committal hum against Kunikida's blazer.

“I read about some natural sleep remedies recently, maybe those could help reset your bohemian rhythm,” Kunikida murmured, gently patting her back. “I'll text you the list later.”

“Thank you, Kunikida-kun,” Dazai whispered, pulling back just enough to look up at her. “Aren't you just the sweetest?”

“You need to eat more, too,” Kunikida continued, her brows drawing together. “Have you weighed yourself lately? I swear you look thinner than you did last week.”

Dazai pouted slightly, looking away.

“And wear your prescription glasses, for goodness sake,” Kunikida added, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want to end up wearing those goofy bottle-cap glasses?”

Dazai let out a chuckle. “I'll try…”

“Eat right, sleep a proper eight hours, and get some fresh air. You'll see, your mood will improve instantly,” Kunikida nodded firmly.

“Literally everything on that list is my enemy,” Dazai sighed dramatically, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “Though… I suppose I'll give it a shot, purely because a very pretty girl like Kunikida is telling me to.” She smirked, giving her eyebrows a cheeky wiggle.

Kunikida blinked. “Right. Well. Good.”

“Anyway, I should probably get going before she leaves,” Dazai said, offering a soft smile. She reached out to pat Kunikida's shoulder, stood up on her tiptoes, and planted a quick kiss right on Kunikida's cheek. “Thank you for everything.”

Kunikida froze, a faint flush crept up her neck and dusted her cheeks pink. “J-Just... take care of yourself.”

To be fair, Dazai's infatuation history hadn't exactly been a straight line. Her crush on Chuuya had hit plenty of slumps and dry spells over the years, since Chuuya was completely oblivious and Dazai had briefly pivoted her affections toward Kunikida instead. Sadly, Kunikida hadn't exactly been charmed by Dazai's chaotic brand of flirting, so that little endeavor hadn't gone anywhere. But anyway…

Dazai hurried down the hallway toward the classroom where Ranpo should have been, but the room was already locked and deserted. Figuring there was only one other logical place her best friend could be, Dazai headed straight for the library. Sure enough, she spotted Ranpo sitting at a corner table with Poe. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves—partially because she felt a twinge of guilt for being snappy earlier—Dazai walked over to their table.

“Oh, hey, look who it is,” Ranpo eyed her. “Did you finally decide to stop acting like a stubborn little gremlin?”

Dazai folded her hands neatly behind her back and dropped into a pout. “Maybe. Though, honestly, I could really use a hug right about now…”

“A hug?” Ranpo blinked, a look of skepticism crossing her face. Then she let out resigned sigh and stood up from her chair, stretching her arms high over her head. “Well, I suppose I'm feeling generous today. Come here, then.”

Dazai took a tiny step forward and practically threw herself into Ranpo's arms. Ranpo stumbled back a half-step under the impact; even though Dazai was taller, she was far too thin to have much heavy momentum, but it was enough. They both let out a small chuckle as Ranpo wrapped her arms securely around Dazai's back, pulling her in close. Ranpo was surprisingly soft and warm, and Dazai had this thought that she wished she could just stay tucked away right there forever.

“I just hope your girlfriend isn't getting jealous over here,” Dazai joked softly into Ranpo's shoulder.

“Nah… right, Poe?”

Poe simply looked up from her book, and she offered a little wave.

“See? She's completely unbothered,” Ranpo grinned.

Dazai sighed quietly, tightening her hold for just a second before resting her chin lightly on top of Ranpo's head. “…I just… I've really wanted to die so much lately…” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Ranpo's hand paused, then steadily began to stroke circles against Dazai's back. “I'm really glad you're here.”

“…If I ever actually do, though,” Dazai murmured, pulling back just enough to look Ranpo in the eye. “Don't feel gui—”

“Shut up, silence, absolutely not. You aren't allowed,” Ranpo whined, cutting her off instantly as she grabbed Dazai's shoulders and gave her an aggressive shake. “You're in the absolute prime of your youth, you can't just check out early! I mean… obviously if your time is genuinely up, that's different, but stay with us for as long as you possibly can, okay? I'd be devastated if you weren't around. Besides, who else is going to buy me expensive snacks?” She finished with a grumpy pout.

“Oh my goodness, I'm just a wallet to you,” Dazai laughed. “Besides, Poe is right there and she's actually wealthy.”

“Yeah, but she's… well, she's not you,” Ranpo huffed. Then, a wicked little smirk broke across her face. “Anyway, who's gonna take Chuuya out on cute little dates?”

Dazai groaned, her face heating up. “We… don't have dates…”

“She needs her four glasses.”

“Hey.”

Ranpo stuck her tongue out playfully. “Ah, relax, I wasn't actually mad at you earlier, you know.”

“Mmh. But Atsushi-kun did share some ancient wisdom with me today,” Dazai said, lifting her chin dramatically. “Something about always hugging your friends when you get the chance, so I felt deeply inspired.”

Ranpo giggled softly. “Well, your inspiration is noted.”

They traded one last quick squeeze before breaking apart.

“By the way, do you happen to know if Chuuya already left?” Dazai asked, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

“I think I saw her heading back toward the gym a little while ago, but I'm not totally sure,” Ranpo shrugged, sitting back down. “Sorry.”

“No, that's plenty. Thanks, Ranpo. Bye!”

She walked down the hallway toward the gym. By this point, the school was deserted, save for a few lingering students and teachers hurrying to leave. When she reached the gym, there was no sign of Chuuya anywhere, so she checked the locker room next. Completely empty. She wandered around the area for a minute, but nobody was in sight. Figuring Chuuya was probably already halfway home, she turned on her heel to leave; she could always just text her later, or catch her tomorrow.

As she pushed through the small crowd gathered near the main school gates to make it out to the street—

“Chuuya!” Dazai called out as soon as her eyes landed on that familiar, gorgeous face in the distance. Even though the afternoon sun made everything look a little blurry at the edges, she'd recognize Chuuya anywhere.

Chuuya paused, turning around and walking over to her slowly. “Hey.” Her expression was unreadable.

Dazai took a deep breath, dropping her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I... wasn't feeling great today.” She swallowed hard- “I didn't mean to ghost your messages or be so… well, however I was. To be honest, I'm still not feeling great…” She let out a nervous chuckle. “I just didn't know—I mean, I felt like I shouldn't even be—well, uh… I just didn't know how to handle it.”

Chuuya's scowl softened. “It's fine. But… is there anything specific I can do to help?”

Dazai bit her lower lip, staring down at her shoes. “Heh… I'm not entirely sure,” she muttered, looking away. “Maybe Chuuya could buy me a brand-new brain?”

Chuuya gave her a concerned look.

“Realistically, though…” Dazai scratched the back of her neck. “Maybe—I mean, only if you want to, nevermind, no, that's stupid, but if you actually want to, I guess… uh, er, but, um…” She babbled as she felt her face burst into flames.

Chuuya blinked a few times. “I'm sorry. I—I didn't quite catch that.”

“… hug me?” Dazai finally whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as she took a shaky breath.

She didn't really know why she was suddenly craving physical contact so badly; it just happened. Hugs were infinitely easier than talking, Atsushi was a genius. Scientifically speaking, hugs triggered all those nice brain chemicals that made you feel a little less hollow inside. And right now, she desperately didn't want to feel bad anymore—mostly because she felt like too much of a coward to actually give in to the darker thoughts circling in her head.

“Oh,” Chuuya murmured softly. “Why do you look like a tomato right now? It's just a hug, idiot. Come here.”

Dazai took one last deep breath, held it in, and stepped forward as Chuuya wrapped her arms around her. Only then did Dazai let the breath out.

Chuuya was so warm, she smelled faintly of a citrus perfume, holding her felt so grounding, it made Dazai's head spin. Dazai felt her heart melting straight in her chest; it didn't even matter anymore. She didn't need a heart anyway—she would gladly hand over any part of herself if it meant staying right here.

Chuuya squeezed her a little tighter, burying her face softly into the crook of Dazai's neck. “You're freezing.”

Dazai was pretty sure it was just the fact that Chuuya radiated heat like a tiny sun, but she didn't say a single word. She just closed her eyes and let Chuuya's warmth consume her entirely.

Since Chuuya didn't make any move to leave right away, Dazai figured it was the golden opportunity to invite her over to her house—and thankfully, Chuuya agreed without hesitation.

Upon their arrival, Dazai's mother had lit up with joy, greeting Chuuya like an honored guest; Dazai still wasn't entirely sure why her mother was so instantly charmed. Was it another one of her mother's psychic superpowers? Did she somehow figure out Dazai was completely head-over-heels for Chuuya in a single glance, despite Dazai never having mentioned her before? Or, more likely, her mother was just relieved to see Dazai looking a little lighter and less miserable than she had all weekend.

Either way, as soon as they made it to Dazai's room, they booted up Superliminal on Dazai's laptop. Chuuya was surprisingly invested, getting completely absorbed in the puzzles. But after a couple of hours, the game got progressively trickier, and Chuuya eventually hit a frustrating brick wall; deciding they both needed a break, they paused the game—which was the exact moment Dazai's mother knocked and swept in with another plate of snacks.

“And what is this absolute brick of a book?” Chuuya asked, perching on the edge of Dazai's bed and picking up the massive volume resting on the nightstand. “It's gigantic.”

Dazai looked up from her phone, blinking. “Oh, that? I guess so. But it's supposed to be divine.” She tossed her phone aside and scooted closer until her shoulder brushed Chuuya's. “You know… a Divine Comedy,” she joked, waggling her eyebrows.

“Aren't you a little pretentious?” Chuuya glanced sideways at her, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Reading heavy-duty classics like this…”

“I suppose,” Dazai smirked back. “But since it's practically required reading for literary nerds…”

Chuuya hummed under her breath, flipping the cover open and thumbing through the pages.

“It's split into three canticles, with thirty-three cantos each—except for the first part, which has thirty-four to serve as an introduction,” Dazai recited smoothly, resting her chin on her hand. “It totals one hundred cantos, because Dante apparently thought one hundred was a divine number representing God. Or something like that,” she waved a hand dismissively.

Chuuya turned her head, blinking slowly at her with wide eyes. “Ah. Wow.” She bit her lower lip, clearly at a complete loss for how to respond to that.

“And the number three is everywhere throughout it because, well, you know—the Holy Trinity and all that,” Dazai added, scratching her cheek sheepishly. “Plus, in the original Italian, it's written in hendecasyllabic meter using interlocking tercets.”

“Okay, nerd, calm down,” Chuuya chuckled softly, tilting her head. “And what's the actual story about?”

“Uh, well… to be entirely honest, I literally just started it, so I'm still figuring that out,” Dazai confessed, letting out a nervous giggle. “I just kind of like researching the structural context and history of a book before I actually dive into the plot.”

“Figures,” Chuuya nodded with a smile. “Well, let me know what you think of it once you actually get into it. I'm definitely not a classics person myself, so you'll have to be my designated book report provider.” She gently set the volume back down on the nightstand.

Eventually, they ditched everything and switched over to the Nintendo Switch, settling down on the floor with their backs propped against the footboard of Dazai's bed.

Since Dazai was far too lazy to trek out into the living room just to hook the console up to the big television—because staying tucked away in her bedroom felt more private and cozy—she settled for the console's smaller handheld screen. Which, in hindsight, might have been a mistake. Within twenty minutes, Dazai found herself squinting furiously at the tiny details, straining her eyes until a headache started to build behind her temples. Naturally, Chuuya caught on. After giving her a stern scolding, Chuuya forced Dazai to pause the game, stand up, locate her glasses, meticulously clean the smudged lenses, and actually wear them.

When Dazai finally crawled back onto the floor, Chuuya gave her an approving little pat on the head before casually leaning her shoulder against Dazai's side. Suffice to say, Dazai decided the temporary annoyance of wearing glasses was 100% worth it.

Dazai honestly couldn't pinpoint the exact moment they transitioned from playing video games to listening to music, but before she knew it, Chuuya was up on her feet, swaying softly to the beat right in the middle of the room in her stocking feet and school uniform. Dazai just sat back and stared, fully aware that she was wearing the biggest and dumbest smile known to humanity. But how could she not?

“Oh, wait, stop—do you actually know this one?” Chuuya suddenly paused, turning around with wide eyes as a new track began to play.

Dazai blinked a few times, glancing down at her phone screen before looking back up. “…Yeah?”

“Really?” Chuuya's entire face lit up with delight, a grin breaking across her features. “My mom is so sick of me constantly blasting EPIC on the speakers,” she admitted, practically vibrating with excitement.

Dazai tilted her head, letting out a chuckle. Chuuya clasped her hands together and batted her eyelashes playfully. Of course, Dazai didn't stand a chance, she couldn't possibly say no to that face. Besides, she genuinely loved EPIC: The Musical anyway. As the opening notes began to fill the bedroom, Chuuya apparently decided listening wasn't enough, so she darted forward, grabbed Dazai by the hands, and hauled her straight up off the floor, spinning them in small circles as she belted out the lyrics with joy.

At that exact moment, Dazai stopped thinking. She had completely been reduced to a helpless little puddle with Chuuya burning brightly right beside her.

…It was probably the sudden shift in the music that triggered it; Dazai's playlists were always a mess, and right as the EPIC tracks faded out, a classical piece began to play. Chuuya, taking full advantage of the atmosphere, promptly began using Dazai like a ballet barre to practice her positions and stretch. Dazai wasn't complaining in the slightest. In fact, whenever Chuuya attempted a pirouette and stumbled because her socks didn't slide smoothly enough against the carpet, Dazai conveniently found herself stepping in to catch her by the waist, steadying her balance. It was immensely helpful for Chuuya; for Dazai's racing heart, however, it was torture, because touching Chuuya was thrilling.

Chuuya kept giggling softly whenever she lost her footing or couldn't nail a movement, inevitably collapsing backward to lean against Dazai.

“I really do love to dance, you know,” Chuuya murmured a little while later, sitting on the edge of the bed as she slowly rolled her left ankle back and forth. “Not just ballet. Just… dancing in general.”

“Well, maybe Chuuya should just do it anyway,” Dazai said softly, reaching over to lower the volume of the speakers before flopping onto the mattress.

“My parents would never let me,” Chuuya made a face, her shoulders slumping. “Dancing isn't exactly a stable career path. It won't put food on the table, it'll probably just drain whatever money I have.”

Dazai bit the inside of her cheek, looking away. “My future is pretty much mapped out for me whether I like it or not. I'll just end up working at my parents' corporate firm,” she said quietly, her thumb absently digging into the bandages on her forearm. “I don't really mind. It's easy money.” She took a deep breath, turning her head to look at Chuuya. “Money that, realistically, I wouldn't even know what to do with anyway…”

Chuuya blinked at her, her brows drawing together. “Wait. You… you're not implying—?” She grimaced, crossing her arms defensively. “No way. Absolutely not. Why would you even suggest that? You might say that now, but ten years from now you're going to have a rich spouse who will throw a fit if they find out you're funding my dance career.”

Dazai bit her lip, dropping her gaze. She didn't want a rich spouse, she didn't want anyone else at all. If she had to spend her entire life trapped in some brain-numbing corporate cubicle just so Chuuya could afford to step onto a stage and do what she loved, Dazai would do it in a heartbeat. It would just be investing in her own happiness, however indirectly.

She kept her mouth shut, though.

By the start of November, Chuuya had fallen into a rhythm of coming over to Dazai's place almost twice a week—sometimes right after the final school bell, other times on the weekends. They had long since conquered Superliminal, blown through several Resident Evil titles, dabbled in random co-op games, binged movies, and subjected themselves to karaoke sessions where Dazai embarrassed herself trying to hit high notes. They talked about everything under the sun, from mundane gossip to conspiracy theories.

With the school year winding down to a close, they spent most of their time together either lounging in the classroom or wandering the hallways. Occasionally Ranpo would tag along, though more often than not she was busy hanging out with her girlfriend, leaving it just the two of them. Dazai wasn't entirely sure if she was just imagining things, but lately, she couldn't shake the feeling that Chuuya had grown noticeably… clingy. Not that Dazai was complaining, not in a million years; she loved every single second of it. But it still made her wonder: why did Chuuya lean against her shoulder constantly? Why did she instinctively grab Dazai's hand when she laughed? Why did she pull those sudden half hugs, or yank Dazai down into her space just to stare right at her?

“Eyes on the fucking ball, Dazai!” Chuuya yelled, hauling back and chucking the volleyball straight across the gym.

Since they had nothing better to do during a free period, they had ended up wandering down to the gymnasium. Chuuya had scrounged up a volleyball, and they were tossing it back and forth, though Chuuya was rapidly losing patience with Dazai's abysmal catching skills. Dazai fumbled, barely managing to scoop the ball up against her chest before it hit the floor.

“What was I just saying?” Chuuya muttered as she caught the ball when Dazai tossed it back. She cradled it against her hip, her brow furrowing thoughtfully. “Ah, right. Sometimes I seriously doubt outer space even exists. Like… what if Mars and Saturn and all those planets are just a myth? What if we're some entirely different kind of experiment?”

“Like a simulation?” Dazai asked, catching the ball on its return.

“No, more like… I don't want to sound like a total idiot, because that's what flat-earther weirdos sound like,” Chuuya scowled, crossing her arms. “But what if humanity has just been lied to this whole time? They control the weather, after all.”

Dazai lobbed the ball back to her. “Would it actually change anything if they did?”

“No,” Chuuya admitted, catching it in one hand and looking down at the worn leather surface.

“That's your answer, then,” Dazai shrugged, taking a few steps forward. “It genuinely doesn't matter whether we revolve around the sun or the sun revolves around us, or if the moon is an artificial satellite. It doesn't change our day-to-day lives.”

Chuuya shot her a sideways look. “That doesn't mean it isn't worth thinking about.”

Dazai raised her hands in mock surrender, a chuckle slipping past her lips. “Fair enough.”

Chuuya tossed the ball up. “I just don't know… What if this life is actually hell?”

“Are you implying the existence of a heaven, then?” Dazai asked as the ball drifted past her shoulder. She quickly pivoted and scooped it up from the floor.

Chuuya let out a long sigh. “I honestly don't know.”

“If we're sticking to theological classifications, I'd say this place is more like purgatory,” Dazai mused, rhythmically passing the ball from one hand to the other. “We hope for things—whatever stupid things we want—but we just keep hoping. Hell would be the complete absence of that hope.”

Chuuya blinked at her, she raised an eyebrow then. “So, following that brilliant logic, we're already dead and just don't remember what we're paying for.”

“Pretty much.”

“Then what is actual death, according to you?”

“The moment you finally graduate to either heaven or hell,” Dazai said smoothly, tossing the ball back across the gap.

Chuuya clicked her tongue as she snatched it out of the air. “Human existence is so damn weird.”

“Which is precisely why you're just supposed to live it instead of overthinking it into oblivion,” Dazai smiled. She took another step closer, sliding her hands behind her back, stopping just a few feet away.

Chuuya stared at her for a long moment before letting the volleyball slip from her fingers, leaving it to bounce dully against the gym floor. She looked away, biting her lower lip. “I guess… I guess that would explain why religion insists we're all born with inherent sin.”

Dazai rolled her eyes playfully. “Maybe.” She huffed. “Life is way too short and too absurd to spend your whole time repressing yourself.”

“Repressing?”

“Mhm. If you want to sing, sing. If you want to dance, well, for god's sake, dance. If you want to run, run.” Dazai nodded encouragingly. “You have to let yourself want things—and then actually go out and do them.”

“Wanting…” Chuuya echoed softly. She reached up, nervously tugging at the small silver hoop in her lower lip while keeping her eyes glued to the polished floorboards.

Silence fell over them.

Dazai looked at her, wishing she could reach out and manually strip away whatever invisible weight Chuuya carried on her shoulders; she wanted Chuuya to drop her fears, chase her love for dance, claim whatever future she actually desired. So she stayed quiet, letting Chuuya process her words, praying Chuuya understood what she was trying to offer.

Wanting was such an inescapable condition. You were born with the innate ability to want; it was hunger, thirst, pain, longing, an aching in the back of your mind; it was always there, clawing at your thoughts because humans were creatures of perpetual desire. Nobody had to teach a person how to want, yet society punished people for it anyway, as if mere yearning was a crime. Of course, human civilization had laws and rules to keep desire in check; thinking wasn't the same as acting recklessly. But as long as your desires didn't cause actual harm to anyone, they should be acceptable. Feeling wasn't a crime. Dazai was more than ready to help Chuuya cross the line from feeling into acting.

“So… what do you want, Chuuya?” Dazai asked gently after a long pause.

Chuuya's shoulders slumped. She slowly raised her head, her long eyelashes fluttering as her gaze locked onto Dazai's. “What does it even matter?”

“Maybe I can help you get it,” Dazai offered with a lopsided smile, tilting her head.

Chuuya let out a scoff. “Right. Sure.”

“Just say the word, and I'll try my best,” Dazai insisted, stepping just an inch closer. “What do you have to lose, anyway?”

Chuuya let out a shaky huff of breath, swallowing hard. Her eyes flickered away, then back to Dazai's face. “I want you.”

“Huh?”

“You. That's what I want.”

Dazai stared at her, her eyes widening.

Why did Chuuya want her? How could Chuuya possibly want her? What on earth did that even mean?! Why would she say something like that out loud?! Chuuya had been given an open-ended chance to ask for literally anything in the world, and her answer was Dazai? Wait. Was she dreaming? Had she fallen asleep somewhere between the classroom and the gym? Had she ever actually woken up this morning? What did reality even mean anymore?!

“Uh…” Dazai felt her entire face burst into flames. “How—how do you want me?”

Chuuya gave her a look that combined disbelief with exasperation. “What kind of stupid question is that? Aren't my words clear enough for you?”

Dazai gulped, frantically shaking her head.

Chuuya sighed deeply, rolling her eyes. Without another word, she closed the remaining distance between them, grabbed Dazai firmly by the collar of her school uniform, and yanked her straight down, their faces were inches apart now, so close that Dazai could feel Chuuya's hot, unsteady breath ghosting across her skin. “Say something.”

“…Something,” Dazai blurted out, flashing a dazed smile as she blinked slowly.

Like her. Chuuya liked her. And based on the tone, the flush, there was zero room for misinterpretation. This was romantic. Was this real? She begged every invisible deity in the universe to keep her awake, to prove that this was happening, that she was actually this impossibly lucky, that she was standing here listening to Chuuya confess her feelings.

Oh my goodness.

Dazai's mind went completely blank. All she could process was the distant and frantic thumping of her own heartbeat, the warmth of Chuuya's breath against her nose, the citrus scent of her perfume, the radiating heat of her body pressing close; it was making her head spin.

“Dazai.”

“Yes?” squeaked Dazai.

“Say something—and I swear to god, if you say the word 'something' again, I will headbutt you,” Chuuya muttered, her cheeks flaming red as she glared up at her.

Dazai swallowed hard, then sucked in a shaky breath. “I—I don't know… But—I mean, Chuuya can have me. She can have me in any way she wants… all of me…”

Chuuya stared up at her for a beat as she slowly licked her lips. “Does that… mean you wanna be my girlfriend?”

Dazai nodded immediately. “Please?”

Chuuya let out a breathless laugh, rolling her eyes. “God, you're so pathetic.”

Dazai blinked slowly. “Huh?”

Chuuya didn't bother answering. Instead, she gently cupped Dazai's cheeks in both hands, taking one last deep breath, her gaze dropped down to Dazai's lips for a fraction of a second, and right then, time stopped being real; the entire universe narrowed down to the exact point where Chuuya's lips finally pressed softly against hers.

Maybe it was the November contrasting with the heat radiating from Chuuya's skin, but every single hair on Dazai's body stood on end; she wasn't entirely certain her face could possibly get any hotter than it already was; as Chuuya moved her lips, Dazai felt little sparks dancing across her stomach. She felt like she couldn't breathe at all, Chuuya had completely consumed every molecule of oxygen in the room and left her to gently expire right there in her mouth. She only snapped back to reality when Chuuya pulled back just a fraction, panting softly against her lips, the air of her breath was antidote to every illness known to humanity.

Dazai hadn't moved a single muscle, half-afraid she'd break the spell or realize she'd somehow messed everything up. But as she looked at Chuuya, kissing her and openly admitting she liked her… Chuuya already knew what kind of loser Dazai was, and she was choosing her anyway. With a faint breath, Dazai pushed all her self-doubt aside and just stared, entirely mesmerized by how breathtaking Chuuya was.

“I was so… I wasn't sure if doing this was going to completely ruin our friendship,” Chuuya mumbled, letting out a shaky sigh as she brushed her thumb across Dazai's cheekbone. “But I don't know… I just, ugh, I haven't been able to get you out of my head ever since that day at the pool.”

Dazai blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, don't ask me why,” Chuuya huffed.

Dazai let out a chuckle, instinctively leaning her face deeper into Chuuya's palm. “Well, for the record, Chuuya really didn't have anything to worry about. I've liked her ever since we started studying together.”

“Back in middle school?” Chuuya blinked wide.

“Mhm.”

“What?!”

Dazai giggled, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. “So… let me…” She swallowed hard. “Let me help you. Let me spoil you. Let me fund your dance career. I don't care if it doesn't make a single cent. Yeah?”

Chuuya stared at her, her lips parted.

Some years later…

“Wait, what? Where are you even going?” Dazai whined, dropping her suitcase right in the middle of the entryway and quickly wrapping her arms around Chuuya's waist to block the doorway. “I literally haven't even had time to breathe in the apartment, and you're already walking out on me?!”

Chuuya made an exasperated face, giving Dazai a light shove against the chest. “Sorry, darling,” she said, her tone entirely unrepentant. “Sigma is waiting for me at the studio, and we need to run through the routine. I can't afford to look anything less than flawless next week.”

Dazai dramatically pouted, tightening her arms around Chuuya's middle. “Aw, but look at me—I'm exhausted, my back is killing me, and you look gorgeous right now…” she sighed into Chuuya's shoulder. “Surely you can just practice tomorrow morning instead.”

“No, I can't,” Chuuya frowned, patting Dazai's hands in a placating gesture. “Tomorrow I have a medical appointment, Sigma has other commitments, and our choreographer is booked solid. I can't just throw away a rehearsal slot when we're this close.”

Dazai scrunched up her nose, slowly loosening her grip and letting her go with a sigh. “Fine. Go ahead. Abandon your poor, helpless girlfriend all alone in this giant, freezing apartment.”

“I'll be back by ten, stop being such a dramatic baby!” Chuuya laughed, waving a hand as she stepped out into the hallway. “Love you! Oh, and I left dinner in the fridge—just pop it in the microwave!”

With a click, the front door shut tight.

Dazai dragged herself over to the living room and flopped face-first onto the couch with a long groan. At least she was going to have Chuuya all to herself for the entire weekend once rehearsals were out of the way. Right now, her back was killing her, and she just wanted to decompose into the cushions in peace. She would rather do it with Chuuya, but…