Chapter Text
It was a crisp Saturday night, the dark sky stretching endlessly above the city as the stars shone brightly overhead.
Chuuya couldn’t help but pause for a moment, staring up at the enormous building towering over him. It was constructed from old brick, its age obvious in the weathered walls, but what caught his attention most was the brilliant blue roof that stood out against the night sky. The building was clearly several decades old, yet it remained imposing and elegant.
Chuuya swallowed, feeling a strange flicker of intimidation before stepping through the large blue doors.
They shut firmly behind him.
As he ventured farther inside, he could hear the faint sounds of pointe shoes striking the polished floor, accompanied by instructors calling out corrections. The sounds echoed through the halls, creating an atmosphere that felt both unfamiliar and strangely exciting.
He followed the long corridor until he reached a spacious room lined with mirrors and bright lights. In the corner sat a large, beautiful piano.
Chuuya’s face immediately lit up.
He grinned at the sight of it, already imagining himself performing on it.
He approached the piano, only to pause when he heard footsteps behind him.
Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with a tall, rather skinny boy.
The boy wore a wide, mischievous grin. Chuuya’s eyes quickly dropped to his feet, where a pair of pointe shoes were partially hidden beneath thick white leg warmers.
A dancer, then.
“Dazai Osamu,” the boy introduced himself casually. His head tilted as he looked Chuuya over. “You’re awfully small. How old are you?”
Chuuya immediately frowned.
“I’m fifteen, and I’m still growing!” he snapped.
Dazai’s grin widened.
It was painfully obvious that he was enjoying himself.
“So you aren’t going to tell me your name?” Dazai hummed. “I suppose I’ll have to call you Slug, then.”
Chuuya glared at him.
“Nakahara Chuuya. And don’t call me Slug, shitface.”
He had to admit, normally he wouldn’t insult someone he’d only just met.
But, in his defense, the boy had started it.
Before Dazai could fire back, an old woman slammed her cane against the marble floor.
The sharp crack echoed through the room.
Chuuya startled, finally becoming aware of the group of dancers surrounding them. A faint flush crept across his cheeks as he quickly moved toward the piano and sat on the stool.
“Osamu, get to your position,” the old woman ordered sharply.
Dazai glanced back at Chuuya.
Then he winked.
Chuuya’s eye twitched.
Dazai turned and casually made his way toward the barre to begin his warmups.
Chuuya already had a feeling that Dazai Osamu was going to make his life a living hell.
The old woman turned her attention toward Chuuya and instructed him to play the sheet music placed in front of him.
Chuuya gave a small nod.
His fingers settled against the keys.
Then he began to play.
The soft melody flowed effortlessly from the piano. His fingers moved confidently from key to key, as though he had played the piece hundreds of times before.
As the music filled the room, Chuuya could hear the dancers moving along with it.
Eventually, curiosity got the better of him.
He looked up.
His eyes immediately landed on Dazai.
Dazai spun across the floor with effortless precision. Every movement seemed natural, fluid, almost weightless. He stood out among the other dancers, not because he was trying to, but because he simply couldn’t help it.
He was confident in the way he moved.
And, frankly, he had every right to be.
Chuuya hated how good he was.
More importantly, he hated that he couldn’t seem to look away.
His attention caught on every little detail.
The way Dazai’s skin seemed to shimmer beneath the moonlight spilling through the windows. The way his long limbs bent and stretched with startling ease. The effortless control behind every movement.
It genuinely surprised Chuuya that someone this talented wasn’t already known worldwide.
He became so absorbed in watching Dazai that he completely forgot he was playing.
It wasn’t until the room suddenly fell silent that Chuuya realized something was wrong.
He blinked.
Everyone had stopped dancing.
His face immediately burned.
“Sorry,” he muttered, quickly looking back down at the sheet music.
He resumed playing.
The dancers began moving again, and Chuuya kept his eyes firmly on the piano.
He wasn’t going to get distracted again.
Three hours later, rehearsal finally came to an end.
Chuuya carefully lowered the piano lid before standing and pushing the bench back into place.
He turned around.
Dazai was standing directly in front of him.
Chuuya jumped backward, clutching his chest.
“Jesus! What the fuck?”
Dazai burst into laughter.
“Ha! You should’ve seen your face!”
He reached over and poked Chuuya’s cheek.
Chuuya immediately smacked his hand away.
“Quit it.”
He grabbed his bag and walked past him, determined to ignore whatever antics Dazai had planned next.
Naturally, Dazai followed.
“So!” he chirped, walking alongside him. “Did ya enjoy your first day?”
Chuuya shot him an unimpressed glare.
“It was fine.”
He turned sharply around the corner.
Dazai started to follow, only to hear someone calling his name from back inside the rehearsal room.
He stopped.
A grin spread across his face as he glanced toward the direction Chuuya had disappeared.
“Well, see ya, Slug.”
With that, Dazai turned back toward the room, leaving Chuuya to make his way home alone.