A heart-pounding, heart-pounding
Feeling of corruption
—Nonsense Philosophy
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June 2014
Semi-trucks that were larger than they usually seemed rampaged about, toppling buildings and taking down anything that crossed their path. The air was smoky, the sky afire. Nowhere was safe—
Dazai had planned to sleep in on his birthday, but he ended up staying awake after waking up from that . He stayed awake, listening to Chuuya's soft snores as he zoned out. Someone knocked on his door around ten. By then Chuuya was up and getting ready for his class—he had economics at 11, Dazai had learned—so he went to open it before Dazai could get up. Dazai watched from his bed as Chuuya pulled the door open…and ended up with a face full of confetti.
"Happy birthday, Dazai," Ranpo drawled. "Oh, wait. That's Chuuya."
"You couldn't have waited until we saw who it was before assaulting him?" Ango said, exasperated.
"I thought it was pretty funny," Yosano spoke up.
Ranpo shrugged. "I'm sure Fancy Hat here doesn't mind."
Chuuya put a hand to his hat, frowning. "My name's Chuuya—"
"Yes, yes, I'm well aware of who you are," Ranpo said brusquely. "Anyway, where is our little asshole?"
"In bed, like most people would be on their birthdays," Dazai called.
Ranpo finally glanced at Dazai.
"Oh, I didn't see you there."
Dazai narrowed his eyes. Ranpo always noticed Dazai, usually before Dazai noticed him, which meant…
Dazai burst out laughing. "You knew Chuuya would answer the door, didn't you?" He guessed.
"Consider this the first and only time I antagonize Chuuya on your behalf," Ranpo replied.
Chuuya looked annoyed. "Any other surprises I should be aware of?"
"Nah," Dazai said dismissively. "The rest of our celebration will be at Oda and Ango's on Saturday. You're not invited."
"Thank god," Chuuya muttered, rolling his eyes.
Oda came over to Dazai and passed him a large coffee. "Enjoy your morning," he told Dazai. "I'll see you at work later."
"And we'll see you in class tomorrow," Yosano added. "Don't forget to study for the final."
"Both finals," Ango tacked on.
Dazai groaned. "Yeah, yeah."
Ranpo looked like he knew Dazai wouldn't study. It's not like Ranpo would, either. "Have a good day, or whatever," he said, waving as he backed out of the room.
"See you," Dazai replied, waving as his friends followed Ranpo out.
Once the door had closed behind them, Chuuya said, "I'm starting to understand why they're your friends."
Dazai grinned. "I knew you would say that eventually."
Chuuya scoffed. "Whatever." He left before Dazai could reply, and then Dazai was alone. He didn't mind, though.
He got up slowly, humming under his breath, and ate some leftover takeout for breakfast (it had only been in the fridge for a few days, so it tasted fine).
Dazai spent the remainder of his morning relaxing and listening to music. Times like these he thought it would be nice to have a speaker, since Chuuya wasn't around to be annoyed by his taste in music (not that Dazai wouldn't play music if he were in the room. Anything to annoy Chuuya). He'd finished Confessions of a Mask on Tuesday, and their final essay—critiquing and comparing Confessions and Kafka on the Shore— wasn't due until Tuesday, when they had their final lit class of the term. Dazai guessed they'd have most of the class time today to work on it anyway, so there was no point in starting any sooner.
Chuuya returned close to one. He ignored Dazai entirely as he set his things on his desk, got out Confessions of a Mask and began to read. Dazai could tell just from a glance that he was just over halfway through.
"You think you can finish that in two hours?" Dazai taunted. "Good luck with that."
A vein bulged in Chuuya's forehead, but he said nothing as he turned the page. Dazai rolled his eyes and gave up; Chuuya's procrastination habits were none of Dazai's business.
Surprisingly, by the time they left for class, Chuuya had made it nearly to the end of the book. Dazai supposed he'd finish it during their work period, which would leave him with less time to work on the essay, but it wasn't like that was Dazai's problem, anyway.
In class, Dazai ignored Kunikida's repeated requests for him to pay for the sink—he'd already informed Kunikida that no amount of nagging would lead to him paying—and got to work on his essay. He'd already decided to finish it by tomorrow at the latest so that he wouldn't have to worry about it over the weekend.
Despite his sharp memory and quick thinking, essays still took a lot out of Dazai. Halfway through the class, he went to Hirotsu's desk to ask for assistance. He'd been working on his laptop, but most of the class, including Chuuya and Kunikida, had left to work in the library, so the room was mostly empty.
"I'm exploring the theme of conscious thought within the two books," Dazai explained. "It seems to be pretty prominent in both."
"That is correct," Hirotsu confirmed. "From what angle are you approaching the essay?"
Dazai rambled on for a bit about the two protagonists' motivations, Hirotsu listening intently. After a while, Dazai's throat began to hurt from all the talking. Hirotsu must have noticed him subtly clearing his throat, because he offered Dazai his thermos. "If you don't mind sharing, you can have some," he told Dazai.
Dazai accepted the thermos gratefully and took a few gulps before realizing his mistake. Unfortunately, he'd already swallowed. He wiped his mouth, looking at Hirotsu in disbelief. "Is this vodka?" he whispered incredulously.
"Gin," Hirotsu corrected, taking the thermos back from Dazai.
Dazai already felt tipsy from just a few sips. He had no idea how Hirotsu functioned like this day after day, but he wasn't one to judge. "Thanks," he said, voice only slightly slurred. "I'm…gonna go write some stuff down now."
Hirotsu nodded seriously. "Good idea. Let me know if you need any help."
"Sure thing," Dazai managed before retreating to his desk.
He managed to write the introduction and several paragraphs of the essay before class ended. The gin slowed the process down somewhat, but Dazai enjoyed the slight buzz nonetheless. He had to go straight to work afterwards, so he resolved to finish the essay later tonight if possible.
Oda was already changed when Dazai arrived. He frowned when Dazai approached and said, "You smell like alcohol."
"Hirotsu," Dazai explained vaguely.
Oda's face cleared. "Ah. So you've discovered his greatest teaching secret."
Dazai's eyebrows lifted. "Alcoholism?"
Oda shrugged. "To each their own."
Their shift was relatively easy—the bar was mostly empty, likely due to finals. Dazai knew they wouldn't be so lucky the following week.
"How's your paper coming?" Oda asked Dazai once their shift had ended.
Dazai sighed, unbuttoning his work shirt sluggishly. "Alright, I suppose. I didn't get as much done today as I would have liked."
"Give yourself a break," Oda suggested gently. "It is your birthday, after all."
Dazai hummed. "I'll consider it."
"Did you enjoy reading Confessions of a Mask and Kafka on the Shore ?" Oda asked curiously.
"They were good," Dazai answered. "I preferred Confessions, I think. More relatable protagonist and all."
"I'm not surprised to hear you say that," Oda replied. "I thought of you when I first read it a couple years back."
Dazai wasn't sure what to make of that, so he changed the subject. "What time should I come over on Saturday?"
"Ango's making dinner around 7," Oda responded, "so anytime between 7:30 and 8 is fine. Yosano works until 9, so she'll come after."
"Oh, yeah, she told me," Dazai recalled. "I'm just glad she can make it at all."
Oda nodded as he picked up his bag. "I need to get going, since I'm not quite done studying for tomorrow's exam," he told Dazai. "I'll see you then."
"See you," Dazai replied, waving as Oda left.
He listened to Call It Fate, Call It Karma as he headed back to the dorm. Chuuya was seated at his desk, bouncing his leg and muttering to himself with a chemistry 101 textbook in front of him. Dazai had taken the course the previous year, and could easily offer to help Chuuya if he needed it. He wouldn't, though. He had his own things to do, and even if he didn't, he had no incentive to help Chuuya.
After a quick shower, Dazai got to work on his paper. A short while after he began writing the conclusion, Chuuya let out a loud groan, his head dropping to the desk. Dazai, who was seated at his own desk, gave him an annoyed look. He really should have just put his headphones on, but they were somewhere in his bed and Dazai was too lazy to find them. "Could you stop being so dramatic?" He said bluntly.
Chuuya's head shot up, and he glared at Dazai. "This stuff is hard! For normal people, anyway," he added, a tinge bitter. "I'm sure you'd be fine."
Dazai rolled his eyes, and then he said something entirely ludicrous. "Let me see it."
Chuuya's mouth dropped open. " Huh?"
It was too late to go back now, so Dazai grimaced and repeated, "Let me see it."
Chuuya looked confused. "You're gonna help me?"
"If you don't immediately prove to be unteachable, then maybe," Dazai answered. "Now are you going to let me see what you're struggling with or not?"
Chuuya wordlessly shoved the textbook at Dazai, expression murderous. "If you make fun of me, so help me god—"
Dazai's eyebrows raised. "This is the periodic table."
"Yeah," Chuuya grumbled. "We have to memorize the first 30 elements. Also, it came out of nowhere. All Kajii-sensei does is make things explode! We haven't even started covering the first 30 elements. I'm not actually sure what we're supposed to be learning right now."
Dazai snickered. "I had him last year. It was horrible."
"Right?!" Chuuya agreed. "Dude's a freak. Did you have to memorize the first 30 elements, too?"
"Yep!" Dazai chirped. "It was easy."
Chuuya glared at him. "You know what? You're a freak, too," he snapped. "Now are you going to help me or not?"
Dazai grinned. "Wanna know my secret?"
Chuuya squinted at him suspiciously. "What?"
Dazai's grin widened as he leaned into Chuuya's space. "Set the elements to a tune," he said, watching Chuuya intently. "Trust me."
Chuuya looked wary. "Like, make a song out of them?"
"You listen to a lot of music," Dazai observed. "That's something we have in common. I think hearing the words as if they're in a song could work for you."
Chuuya still didn't look convinced, so Dazai added, "Of course, I could just leave you to your own devices, if you're not willing to do things my way."
Chuuya growled. "Bandage-waster," he grumbled. "Fine, I'll try. What's the tune?"
Dazai cleared his throat theatrically before singing, "Hydrogen and helium, lithium beryllium, boron, carbon and nitrogen! Oxygen and fluorine, neon and sodium, magnesium aluminum and silicon. Phosphorus and sulfur, chlorine and argon, potassium, calcium and scandium, titanium vanadium, chromium manganese, iron cobalt nickel, and copper and zinc!" Dazai finished before bowing gracefully. "How was that?"
"It's a horrible tune," Chuuya said bluntly, "but I'll do anything, at this point."
Dazai smirked. "Great. Try the song yourself and see how much you can recall."
"Fine," Chuuya snapped, "but you're not allowed to make fun of my voice."
Chuuya's voice was quite nice. Dazai thought so, anyway. His memorization…not so much.
" Hydrogen and—lithium? Helium and manganese, iron cobalt nickel, argon, potassium—" Chuuya gave up with a drawn out groan. "This is impossible."
"Try the song again, but this time look at the textbook for reference," Dazai suggested. "Then keep practicing until it sticks."
"This sucks," Chuuya mumbled, but he obeyed nonetheless. He continued practicing for the next hour, Dazai giving him the occasional suggestion to help spark his memory. It was only after Kunikida banged on their door and yelled at them to 'shut the hell up and go to sleep, some of us have finals in the morning!' that Dazai realized it was close to midnight.
"Oopsie!" Dazai called back cheerfully. "My sincerest apologies, Kunikida-kun!"
Kunikida grumbled something Dazai couldn't make out and left as Chuuya put the textbook away. "Thanks for the help, I guess," he said begrudgingly.
"You're welcome, I guess," Dazai mimicked. "You should owe me another favor for this."
Chuuya scowled. "Fine, but only if you use the first favor by Sunday. I don't wanna owe you two at once."
Dazai was sure he could come up with something by then , so he said, "Sure."
Only once the lights were out did Chuuya speak again. "Happy birthday, by the way," he said gruffly, as if it took every ounce of his dignity to utter those words.
Dazai made sure to keep the smile from his voice when he replied, "Thanks, Chuuya."
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Their History of War final turned out to be pretty easy. It was mostly about weapons, which appeared to be the only thing Fukuchi seemed to be genuinely enthusiastic about teaching. There were a few questions about war tactics, and a few about historical battles and generals, but most of the questions were things like ' how could one potentially turn a gas stove into a bomb?' and 'how does one disarm an enemy in close combat'?
What a guy, Dazai thought, amused.
They were allowed to leave once they'd handed in their exam, so Dazai got out an hour before he usually would. Fyodor and Nikolai—both of whom had finished a few minutes before Dazai—were lingering in the hallway outside the room, presumably waiting for Sigma, who came out about a minute after Dazai did.
"That was a fascinating test!" Nikolai exclaimed as Dazai approached the three of them. "Very enlightening! What do you think, Dazai-kun?"
"It was pretty strange," Dazai agreed. "At least it was easy."
Sigma looked vexed. "Maybe for you people," he muttered. "I hated it."
"Sigma is a pacifist," Fyodor explained flatly. "War is a difficult concept for him to grasp."
"You make me sound like a child!"
"I see," murmured Dazai, remembering Sigma's immense aversion to war that had come up the first time they'd met. "Why'd you take the class, then?"
Sigma sighed. "It's for a required credit, and Nikolai talked me into it," he grumbled.
Nikolai looked gleeful. "Isn't it great, being forced out of your comfort zone and into open waters? The time has come for you to leave the reef behind, little fish!"
"For the last time, stop comparing me to a fish—"
"I want lunch," Fyodor spoke over Sigma. "Would you like to come, Dazai-kun?"
"Sure," Dazai replied. He followed the three of them out of the building—Nikolai still busy antagonizing Sigma—to the cafe Dazai frequented.
They had an interesting dynamic, Dazai observed as he ate the crab salad sandwich he'd ordered. Sigma was naive and childlike compared to Fyodor and Nikolai's mature—and borderline psychopathic—demeanors, but Dazai by far preferred him regardless. Sigma was like Atsushi; someone Dazai instinctively wanted to protect, because he deserved to be protected.
Nikolai and Fyodor needed no such protection, and neither did Dazai (even if he sometimes craved it).
"Have you sufficiently prepared for our philosophy exam?" Fyodor asked Dazai, speaking over Nikolai, who was busy winding Sigma up (again).
Dazai put his sandwich down and delicately wiped his hands on the napkin. "I'm not much of a studier, but I'm sure I'll do fine."
Fyodor hummed. "It's the same for me. I can recall most of the material easily, so I don't often need to study."
"You seem very engaged in philosophy," Dazai said curiously. "Is it your major?"
"Minor," Fyodor corrected. "I'm a theology major."
Ah. "Does that mean you believe there's a god?"
"It depends on how you define god, " Fyodor said pretentiously, and Dazai had to suppress an eye roll. "I believe such an entity exists, but I don't believe it is capable of saving anyone. In the end, we are all alone."
"Yikes," muttered Dazai. "Theology majors are the worst."
"At least I am not a philosophy major," Fyodor said, shooting a glance at Nikolai.
Nikolai grinned back. "Don't lie, you love my philosophical musings!"
Fyodor's lips tilted up slightly. "Don't flatter yourself, Kolya," he replied. "I hardly listen when you talk."
"Ah, does the cadence of my voice distract you from hearing the words I speak, Fedya ?" Nikolai said knowingly. "That's all right, I suppose I cannot fault you for such a weakness."
"Disgusting," Sigma muttered under his breath. Dazai instinctively agreed.
He ended up staying with the three of them until it was time to go to philosophy. He walked there alongside Fyodor, speculating about what Shibusawa would choose to include in the exam.
"Kolya's mentioned his exams are difficult," Fyodor commented. "It shouldn't be an issue for either of us, of course."
"Philosophy's easy," Dazai agreed. "I'd be surprised if either of us got less than a perfect score." Because as much as he found Fyodor to be pretentious, arrogant and annoying, Dazai couldn't deny he was intelligent to a devious degree.
Fyodor and Dazai split when they reached the philosophy classroom, Dazai heading to his usual seat between Oda and Ango.
"Were you hanging out with Fyodor?" Ango said, surprised.
Dazai shrugged. "I got lunch with him and his…people. It was interesting."
Oda hummed. "He is a strange man."
Shibusawa called their attention then and informed them that they could leave once they were done with the exam. He passed out a thick packet of papers to each of them, drawing audible sighs from some of the students.
Even though Dazai had only skimmed the most recent readings, he had no trouble answering the test questions. Ango and Oda seemed to be doing okay as well, though Ango looked a bit anxious. He tended to psych himself out for exams, Dazai knew.
Dazai finished about 40 minutes after he'd arrived. He muttered a quick "see you Saturday" to his friends before heading to the front to hand in his exam.
"A word, Dazai-kun?" Shibusawa murmured to Dazai when he passed the paper over.
Dazai nodded and followed Shibusawa into the hallway. Fyodor was leaned up against the wall, unsurprisingly; he'd finished his exam just before Dazai.
Shibusawa shut the classroom door behind him before asking, "Have the two of you ever considered becoming philosophy majors?"
Dazai and Fyodor exchanged a glance, Dazai repressing a laugh and Fyodor—well, Dazai never could read him, but he did seem amused.
"I can't say I have," Fyodor replied first. "I happen to be…close friends with a philosophy major, and so I know from experience that becoming one myself would only make me more insufferable."
"Oh, so he is self-aware!" Dazai chirped, drawing a slight glare from Fyodor. "That being said," Dazai added, "I'm going to pass as well. Quite frankly, I find philosophy far duller an art than literature."
Shibusawa looked displeased, but he didn't try to convince them further. "Very well. Thank you for your honesty."
"It was no trouble," Fyodor answered for them both.
Shibusawa returned to the classroom, and once the door had shut once more, Dazai and Fyodor exchanged another glance.
"I would have liked to be ruder," Fyodor told Dazai.
Dazai laughed before he could stop himself. "Is it terrible of me to wish that you had been?"
Fyodor's lips quirked up slightly. "I don't think so."
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Dazai didn't see his assailant. All he knew was that there was a knife in his stomach and a stabbing pain radiating throughout his abdomen. Dazai felt for the knife, but found nothing. He bent over the side of his bed and vomited blood onto the floor. "Help," he tried to yell, but it came out too quiet, and anyway Dazai was alone. Still he tried. "Help—"
Dazai's own voice woke him. It was just as subdued as it had sounded in his dream, but still he had spoken. At least now the pain had receded to the ghost of an ache. The room was dark, though the edges of the blinds were light enough to tell Dazai the sun had already risen. Chuuya was still fast asleep, despite Dazai's sleep-talking.
He'd gotten back from Bar Lupin at 3, and it was just after 5 now. Dazai's shift only went until 2, but Ango worked the shift after his, so Dazai had stuck around to bother him for a while. He only regretted it a little bit.
He'd be seeing Ango, along with Oda, Yosano and Ranpo, in just a few hours. Well, 15 hours, technically. Dazai wished he could just skip to that part without needing to sleep. Why is sleep even necessary? Dazai wondered as he flipped over onto his stomach and pushed his face into his pillow. It shouldn't be. How bothersome, to waste such time unconscious, all but dead to the world.
Sleep was an escape to most people, Dazai knew. He only wished he could say the same for himself.
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"If I had to choose something to drown in, I'd choose this Merlot," Yosano announced. She was sitting next to Dazai, cheeks already flushed with the (three or four? Dazai couldn't remember) glasses of wine she'd consumed.
Dazai couldn't stop himself from replying, "I'd choose my own blood!"
Yosano sprayed Dazai, and the others groaned. "I knew he would say that," Ranpo claimed.
They'd been drinking for nearly three hours now, having started while they ate dinner, so it was almost eleven. Sometime around ten they'd migrated to the living room, which meant that technically Dazai wasn't talking about suicide at the dinner table, but he didn't mention that to Yosano. He was content enough to let her spray him with that silly little bottle, if only for tonight.
Dazai leaned back into the uncomfortable-but-warm sofa as Oda said, "Perhaps we should give Dazai his presents now."
Dazai perked up. "There's more than one?"
"There's two," Ranpo replied. "One from Oda and Ango, and the second from Yosano and I."
"Hit me," said Dazai, and Ranpo tossed a medium-sized, lumpy package at him. It couldn't have weighed more than a few pounds. "It's the wrong shape to be a noose," Dazai murmured to himself. He ignored Yosano spraying him again as he tore open the package, revealing…clothes.
Not just any clothes, though. These were black, and appeared to be compression gear—leggings and a matching long-sleeved shirt. They looked like they'd be tight even on Dazai's thin frame.
"It's not healthy to sleep in those bandages," Yosano claimed. "We decided to give you an alternative."
Dazai was genuinely touched. He'd known his friends were aware of his extreme sensitivity to textures, loose clothing in particular, but he hadn't expected this. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
Yosano shrugged, but looked pleased nonetheless, while Ranpo said, "Bet you 10,000 yen Chuuya will call it a catsuit."
Dazai scoffed. "I can assure you that won't happen."
"It will, and I'll know if you lie about it~" Ranpo sang. "So don't try."
"I won't need to lie, because you're wrong," Dazai declared. "Next present, please!"
Oda wordlessly passed him a small cube wrapped in newspaper and tied off with cheap red yarn. Dazai tore the wrappings off easily and stared at the box they'd covered. "A speaker?"
"Yep," Ango confirmed. "It's bluetooth, so you can still use your phone while it's attached as long as you stay within range."
Dazai was silent for so long that Ranpo nudged Yosano and whispered, " Is he gonna cry?" Then Dazai burst out laughing. His friends watched him with varying levels of amusement and concern as his laughter subsided. "Thank you for the presents," he told them. "They're wonderful." Then he smirked. "Also, I'm going to have so much fun pissing off the slug playing music in the dorm!"
"Real question: is he all you think about?" Ranpo asked, looking as if he already knew the answer (the wrong one, of course).
Dazai rolled his eyes. "It was an afterthought."
Ranpo smiled. "Sure it was."
"How have things been with Chuuya-kun?" Oda asked curiously.
"Mori gave them a ship name," Yosano said, snickering.
Ranpo looked interested. "Oh? I didn't know about that."
"He called them 'double black' because—"
Dazai interrupted her with a groan. "We just happened to both wear all black to class," he complained. "In my opinion, that does not warrant a nickname."
" Soukoku has a nice ring to it," Ango said thoughtfully.
Dazai screwed up his nose. "Ugh. No. Gross. Can we please change the subject?"
"We could play a game," Ango suggested.
Dazai hummed. "A drinking game?"
" Lame," Ranpo drawled. "Let's play set." Set was essentially a game of pattern recognition, and had been one of Dazai's favorite games growing up. Playing with Ranpo, though…
Everyone else groaned in unison.
"No way," Ango declared.
"Yeah, sorry Ranpo," Yosano agreed. "Playing with you is pointless. Dazai's the only one who can even come close to beating you."
"Oda's not bad either," Dazai pointed out.
"I can't compete with you two, though," Oda countered.
"Let's go one-on-one then," Ranpo proposed, eyes gleaming. "And just to make things interesting, the winner gets to ask the loser a question that must be answered with 100% honesty."
Dazai narrowed his eyes. "Can I drink instead of answering?"
"Nope," Ranpo declared. "What, gonna chicken out 'cause you're afraid I'll ask you something about Chuuya?"
Dazai scoffed. "No way."
The others ooooh'd as Ranpo silently got the cards from the drawer in the coffee table. "Who wants to deal?" He asked.
"I'll do it," Oda offered, accepting the cards from Ranpo.
"Shut your eyes, both of you," Yosano directed. Dazai obeyed, waiting until Oda said, "Ready, set, set!"before opening his eyes.
" Set," Ranpo called immediately.
Dazai stared at the cards in dismay as Ranpo gathered the set. " How?"
Ranpo shrugged. "Skill."
Dazai watched intently as Oda dealt out more cards. Even so, the next two sets went to Ranpo before Dazai even got one.
Ranpo won, of course. He took at least ten more sets than Dazai did, easy as breathing. Dazai huffed indignantly as Ranpo gave him a smug look and said, "I suppose I get to ask you something now!"
"Fine," Dazai grumbled. "Ask away. I'm not afraid of your dumb questions, anyway."
"Sure," Ranpo said easily. Dazai braced himself for a question about Chuuya, or maybe about his own sexuality—which he was fully prepared to answer, thank you very much—but what came out of Ranpo's mouth was, "Are you being honest with your therapist?"
Dazai's mouth dropped open. "Huh?"
"Are you actually telling him what you need to tell him," Ranpo rephrased.
Dazai groaned. "I can't believe you're asking this, of all things."
Ranpo shrugged. "I can tell you're still having nightmares. That much is obvious. You clearly have some unresolved trauma to work through, and I'm willing to bet you haven't told Fukuzawa about any of it. Am I wrong?"
"No," Dazai mumbled sullenly. "I'm on medication now, is that really not enough?"
"You know the answer to that as well as I do," Ranpo replied.
"Dazai," Yosano said, voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Fukuzawa won't push you to open up, and he's not going to ask about shit unless you bring it up first. I know it's hard, but—"
"What?" Dazai said flatly. "What am I supposed to say? ' Hey Fukuzawa, I had a lot of questionable sex in high school, and my friends think it's giving me nightmares! Got any advice'?" Dazai rolled his eyes. "As if that would do anything."
"Actually," Oda chimed in, "that's exactly what you should say."
Dazai felt ill. "I don't want to talk about that, though," he replied.
"Why are you in therapy, then?" Ranpo asked bluntly. "You say you don't want to work through any of this, and yet you're seeing someone who can help you, if only you'd let him. So why don't you?"
" Because," Dazai emphasized, "I barely even remember half the stuff that happened to me anyway, so I doubt it would help to talk about it. Anyway," he added with a bright, fake smile, "it's not like it matters. It's really not that bad—" he broke off, frowning. "Why are you all looking at me like that? Stop that."
"What, stop pitying you?" Ranpo drawled. "Sorry, can't. Not my fault you're too pitiful even to see how pitiful you are."
"Ranpo," Oda chided.
"What?" Ranpo shrugged. "It's true."
Dazai hated pity, especially from his friends, but he knew Ranpo was right. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll try talking about that stuff. Only so that you stop pitying me, no other reason."
"Uh-huh," Ranpo said, sounding unconvinced.
"I don't know why you wasted a question on that, anyway," Dazai added.
Ranpo smirked. "What, were you hoping I'd ask about Chuuya?"
Dazai rolled his eyes. "Of course not. There's nothing to tell there, anyway."
"You know I can tell when you're lying, right?" Ranpo said pointedly.
"You don't know me," Dazai retorted.
Yosano snorted. "Even if Ranpo didn't, he can still tell when you're being a fake little bitch. Even I can see that much."
"Whatever you say," Dazai replied before changing the subject. "How's the book coming, Odasaku?"
"It's fine," Oda replied, not seeming to mind Dazai's deflection. "I'm a few chapters in, and I have most of the plot planned already." Dazai listened patiently as Oda talked about his book. Even after that, to Dazai's relief, none of his friends brought up Chuuya again. It was nice, not having to think about the slug for a little while.
He ended up staying at Oda and Ango's until one, when Oda decided he was too tired to host any longer. Ranpo and Yosano walked back to the dorm with Dazai, since both of their apartments were in that general direction, anyway.
"Good luck with Fancy Hat," Ranpo told Dazai with a sly smile as he and Yosano left.
Dazai rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."
"Wear your compression gear!" Yosano called after him, and Dazai waved an affirmative over his shoulder.
Since Yosano had asked so nicely—for her, anyway—Dazai swung by the bathroom on his way back to the room to remove his bandages and change into the compression gear in one of the cramped stalls. The clothes were surprisingly comfortable, with a soft, seamless feel, and the way they hugged his body with an even pressure made it easier for Dazai to breathe.
Dazai gathered up his clothes and returned to the room. As the door pushed open, Dazai realized there was a rolled up towel placed in front of it, as if to block out a smell. Dazai found out why soon after, when he was greeted by a strong, heady scent upon entering the room. Chuuya was seated on his desk by the window, joint in hand, exhaling smoke out the open window. He glanced at Dazai when he entered and raised his eyebrows at Dazai's getup. "What's with the cat suit?"
Damn Ranpo. "It's compression gear," Dazai replied. "Easier to sleep in than bandages, after all." Before Chuuya could reply, Dazai changed the subject. "Smoking in the dorm, huh? Didn't realize you were such a delinquent!"
Chuuya looked amused. "You gonna judge me for it? Didn't realize you were such a goody-two-shoes."
"I'm not," Dazai replied, setting aside his clothes before crossing the room to Chuuya's desk. "Let me take a hit." He batted his eyelashes at Chuuya beseechingly.
Chuuya scowled. "Hell no. I'm not letting you mooch off me."
"But Chuuuuya," Dazai whined, pouting dramatically. "It's my birthday!"
"Your birthday was Thursday," Chuuya replied.
"And you got me nothing," Dazai reminded him.
Chuuya stared at him for a long moment before groaning loudly. "Fine, you can have one hit. I'm sure that'll be enough to get a bag of bones like yourself high, anyway."
"Like you can talk," Dazai shot back, hopping onto the desk beside Chuuya.
Chuuya huffed. "At least I have muscle! That's more than you can say."
He wasn't wrong, but Dazai wasn't about to admit it. "Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively. "Now are you sharing or not?"
Chuuya rolled his eyes but passed over the joint. Dazai took a single, deep hit and immediately broke out into a coughing fit. Chuuya cackled as Dazai wheezed in a vain attempt to catch his breath. "I knew this would happen," Chuuya gloated. "I almostwant to let you take another, just to watch you choke again."
Dazai glared at him and answered hoarsely, "Chuuya really likes that, huh?"
"It is pretty entertaining," Chuuya agreed.
"Rude," muttered Dazai, but he couldn't be too upset. He could already feel the edges of his consciousness softening, after all. His limbs felt warm and tingly, his tongue looser than it was even when he drank. "I haven't been cross-faded in a while," he admitted grudgingly.
"Oh, right, you must have been drinking at your friends' place, huh?" Chuuya realized.
Dazai shrugged. "I was mostly sober at the end, so I doubt I'll be affected too much." He didn't feel overwhelmed or overstimulated, at least not yet.
Chuuya hummed. "So you're not a lightweight, then?"
"I'm not, but you are," Dazai stated. "Am I right?"
Chuuya's eyes narrowed. "None of your business."
Dazai snorted. "You totally are. Why are you smoking, anyway? I thought athletes weren't allowed to do that stuff."
Chuuya shrugged and took another pull of the joint, smoothly transferring the smoke to his nose in an unfairly attractive French inhale. Dazai watched his mouth as he said, "We only get drug tested if we get injured, and I don't plan on that happening."
"That's not something you can control," Dazai pointed out.
"Number two libero," Chuuya reminded Dazai. "I know how to fall without hurting myself."
"I thought it was cats that landed on their feet," Dazai replied. "Not dogs."
Chuuya scowled and put out the joint in an ashtray Dazai hadn't noticed before. "Stop calling me a dog."
Dazai pretended to think for a moment before saying, "Nah."
"Bastard," Chuuya grumbled, but he didn't kick Dazai off his desk like Dazai was expecting. Chuuya was oddly agreeable when he was high, or maybe it was Dazai's perception of Chuuya that was slightly warped. It made Dazai wonder what else he could get away with doing right now.
"Chuuya," Dazai said suddenly. Chuuya looked at him, and Dazai said, "I'd like to use my first favor now."
"Took you long enough," Chuuya muttered, rolling his eyes. "Whaddya want."
Dazai smiled, scooting closer to Chuuya. "I'd like a kiss!"
Chuuya froze for a full second and then sputtered, cheeks pink. "You—what?!"
"A kiss," Dazai repeated. "You know, that thing people do where they put their mouths together and—"
"I know what a kiss is," Chuuya retorted. "I just don't understand why you'd want one from me."
Dazai didn't understand, either, but he just shrugged. "It's my birthday, and I want to be kissed. Besides," he added with a pointed smirk, "if I squint just a little bit, you could almost be a girl."
"Take that back, bastard," Chuuya snapped. "I'm not a girl, and I'm not even into guys anyway."
Dazai shrugged again. "Doesn't matter. It's just a kiss, even if it is as slobbery as a dog's."
"I'm a good kisser!" Chuuya fired back, annoyed.
Dazai raised his eyebrows. "I'm not seeing any proof of that."
"I hate you so damn much," Chuuya muttered, and then he leaned in to kiss Dazai.
Contrary to popular belief, Dazai hadn't kissed many people. Even taking that into account, he could tell this kiss was different. Chuuya kissed him with a surprising amount of gentleness, but no hesitance. Dazai's eyes fell shut as he leaned into it, instinctively bringing a hand to cup Chuuya's face. One of Chuuya's hands found the back of Dazai's neck and tugged him closer. It felt tremendously intimate in the silent room, and too vulnerable by far. Dazai knew it was a horrible decision, even as he kept kissing Chuuya.
But Chuuya kept kissing back, so maybe it wasn't such a mistake (that's what Dazai tried to tell himself, anyway).
Chuuya was the one to pull away first. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair askew thanks to Dazai's hands combing through it. Dazai missed the softness between his fingers already.
There was a pause as they stared at each other, and then Chuuya said, "Was that good enough for you?"
Dazai suppressed a manic laugh. All he said was, "Sure."
Chuuya didn't seem offended in the least. He rolled his eyes at Dazai, shoving lightly at his chest. "Whatever. I'm going to bed."
They climbed into their respective beds, and Chuuya shut off the light. Dazai lay there in the dark for a while, fingers pressed to his lips as he listened to Chuuya breathe. Usually, Chuuya fell asleep in mere minutes. Tonight, it took him at least half an hour.
When sleep finally found Dazai, his fingers were still against his mouth.
Chapter TextLet's look for an unending moratorium
Let's face our dreams together and survive
—Dr.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
July 2014
Sometime during the first week of July, Natsume hired a guy named Akutagawa. He was the brother of Gin, from Dazai's anatomy class, but the two were nothing alike. Gin was sweet and patient, while Akutagawa reminded Dazai of a stray dog—and not the cute, adoptable kind. No, Akutagawa was a rabid, dirty dog, complete with fleas and worms and smelly, slobbery breath.
The main reason Dazai disliked Akutagawa, though, was that Oda was assigned to train him, and Akutagawa, though reluctant at first, quickly took to Oda. Of course, that meant that Dazai didn't get to spend nearly as much time with Oda at work or in general, since Oda was often busy working on his thesis in his free time. He'd cut back on working quite a bit as a result, which was actually the main reason they'd had to hire Akutagawa, so technically, Oda's thesis was at fault.
Still, immature as it was, Dazai would rather blame Akutagawa. It was fortunate that he only had to put up with Akutagawa for one four-hour shift a week (though even that was still nearly too much for Dazai to handle).
He met up with Atsushi on Saturday of that week. Both of them had been busy with finals towards the end of the term, so neither of them had gotten the chance to wish the other a happy birthday. Dazai treated Atsushi to lunch—despite Atsushi's protests, Dazai was still pretty sure he owed Atsushi for something, even if he couldn't recall what, and it wasn't like Dazai's wallet couldn't take it.
They went to a popular izakaya near campus, and Dazai let Atsushi sneak sips of his sake, even though Atsushi was still technically underage and clearly nervous about getting in trouble. Dazai knew the place well, though, enough that he knew the staff were usually too inebriated to notice that kind of thing.
"So, Atsushi-kun," Dazai started once they'd ordered their food. "How was your birthday?"
Atsushi smiled. "It was good. I didn't do much, apart from celebrating with some friends." His smile softened, and he added, "Kyouka-chan gave me a handmade tiger plushie. It was really cute."
"That's sweet," Dazai remarked. He remembered Atsushi telling him about his love for large cats—especially tigers—the first time they'd gotten lunch together. "Speaking of tigers, have you decided whether you want to major in zoology? You have to declare a major next term, right?"
"Yep," Atsushi confirmed. "I think I'm going to do it. Nothing else really appeals to me, after all." He paused before adding, "How'd you decide on your major, anyway?"
Dazai shrugged. "Nothing else really appealed to me." It had been the obvious choice, given Dazai's penchant for both reading and writing. He really wasn't good at much else, sharp memory notwithstanding.
Atsushi hummed. "Do you like making up stories?"
"I always have," Dazai told him truthfully. "When I was younger I used it as a way to escape reality, but now I just enjoy it."
"Has your life been hard?" Atsushi asked, blinking at Dazai innocently.
Dazai laughed. "You could say that."
Atsushi nodded as if he understood. "I grew up in an orphanage," he admitted. "It was a horrible place, but at least I got to leave last year."
"You were there until you turned eighteen?" Dazai said, surprised.
"Yeah," Atsushi replied. "I never got adopted. I met Kyouka during my last year, and she got adopted shortly after I left."
"Oh, that's right," Dazai recalled. "Ranpo told me a bit about that. I still haven't met their adoptive father, you know."
"He's a good guy, but pretty introverted," Atsushi told Dazai. "Also, Kyouka-chan says he works a lot."
"Ranpo mentioned that as well," Dazai replied. "I wonder what he does?"
"I'm not sure, but I think he's in healthcare or something," Atsushi responded.
Knowing how busy Yosano was all the time, it would make sense that Ranpo and Kyouka's father wouldn't have much free time. "I wonder if he works with Yosano," Dazai mused. "She's never mentioned working with him, but I know she's familiar with him through Ranpo at the very least."
Atsushi just shrugged. "You should ask her."
"Maybe I will," Dazai murmured before changing the subject. "What kind of music do you listen to, Atsushi-kun?"
"Mostly J-pop," Atsushi admitted. "Kyouka-chan likes upbeat tunes, and a lot of her favorite songs really grew on me. What kind of music do you like, Dazai-san?"
"Japanese math rock, old J-rock, occasionally J-pop," Dazai replied. "Also American music, sometimes."
"Who's your favorite American artist?" Atsushi asked curiously.
"I like Paramore, Radiohead and The Strokes best, probably," Dazai answered. "Do you have a favorite artist?"
"Probably AKB48 right now," Atsushi said after a moment of consideration. "I like Electric Heart ."
"Good taste," Dazai approved.
They talked about music until their food came, and then their conversation turned to work. "I have a horrible new coworker," Dazai complained, stabbing his chopsticks aggressively into his fried rice. "Akutagawa's the worst. "
"Akutagawa Ryuunosuke?" Atsushi asked, surprised. "I know him."
"Do you have a class with him or something?" Dazai wondered. "Not sure how you could put up with him otherwise."
"He's my math tutor," Atsushi explained, sounding just a tad embarrassed. "He's kind of harsh, but my grades have improved a lot since he started helping me."
Dazai thought of how he'd helped Chuuya, then pushed the thought from his mind. "I could help you instead, if you can't stand to be around him any longer," he offered.
Atsushi smiled. "Thanks, but I think I can handle him. He's just a bit of a grouch, that's all."
"If you're sure," Dazai replied.
Atsushi had to leave for work soon after, so Dazai bid him goodbye before heading back to the dorm. Chuuya was out—Dazai was fairly certain he had volleyball practice until sometime after 1, so he had at least half an hour before he had to deal with him.
Dazai would be lying if he said that interacting with Chuuya took as much energy as it had when they first moved in. Sometimes it even scared him a little, how easy it was to be around him; it was too easy, despite their frequent bickering and glaring differences. Dazai hated how normal Chuuya's presence had become, and even more than that, he hated how noticeable Chuuya's absence was.
Chuuya returned sometime around 2, hair still wet from the shower. The scent of his shampoo was always slightly different when he showered at the gym, something like vanilla. Not that Dazai cared what Chuuya smelled like. He had a working nose, that was all.
He'd always been aware of Chuuya's physicality, but since they'd kissed, Dazai had been hyper aware. It was like he couldn't turn off the part of his brain that thought about Chuuya, noticed Chuuya, observed Chuuya. It was horrible. At this rate, Dazai wouldn't be able to focus on anything else once school started back up.
The problem was, Dazai had no clue how to make it stop. He'd thought of everything—short of kicking Chuuya out of the room, since Dazai wanted to maintain their contract, at least for the time being. He'd tried ignoring Chuuya, but it wasn't easy. Chuuya was so loud that Dazai just couldn't tune him out, and it was impossible not to catch sight of him when they were confined to such a small space.
"Your bananas are rotting, shitty Dazai," Chuuya stated, pulling Dazai out of his thoughts and back to his unfortunate reality.
"And your hair is dripping on the rug," Dazai replied, eyes tracing the water droplets that fell from the ends of Chuuya's hair and trailed down his bare chest. Dazai wished he would just put a shirt on already. "Is Chuuya too stupid to dry his hair properly?"
Chuuya scowled. "Throw out your fucking bananas."
"Yeah, yeah," Dazai said dismissively.
Chuuya narrowed his eyes. "If our room starts stinking, I swear to god Dazai—"
Dazai watched Chuuya's lips move as he rambled on about all of the ways he'd kill Dazai for stinking up the room. They were objectively nice lips, so it was normal that Dazai would want to look at them, probably. It was probably also normal to wish he could feel them against his own.
"—grind your fucking brains into a pulp, got it?" Chuuya finished, glaring at Dazai. Dazai looked at him blankly, and Chuuya sighed. "You didn't hear any of that, did you?" He grumbled.
"Nope!" Dazai replied cheerfully.
Chuuya began yet another angry rant about the general cleanliness of Dazai's side of the room, and Dazai wondered if maybe the solution to his problem was the opposite of avoidance. Maybe, Dazai thought, maybe I need to kiss Chuuya again .
It wasn't like the kiss had hurt anyone, and it had certainly been cathartic—or something like that, anyway—so why shouldn't he do it again? It wasn't like there were any feelings attached on either side.
The real question was, how could Dazai get Chuuya to kiss him? He certainly couldn't ask for it—no, that simply wouldn't do. Either Chuuya would tease him relentlessly, or make false assumptions about Dazai's sexuality and the way he viewed Chuuya (okay, so maybe his sexuality was questionable, but he still hated Chuuya, and that was not up for debate). Dazai couldn't have either of those things happen, which meant he had to be smart.
That's it, Dazai thought, satisfied. I'll just have to make Chuuya think he wants to kiss me again!
"—and I'm pretty sure half of your canned crab is expired, by the way. Not that you'd care—you're probably hoping it'll kill you, huh?" Chuuya waited for Dazai to reply, and frowned when he didn't. "You really are a horrible listener."
And you're a horrible distraction, Dazai almost said. Instead he said, "I'm a great listener! I just don't particularly care about anything you have to say."
Chuuya growled. "I really can't believe you sometimes. Why don't you go eat some expired crab and die?"
Dazai smiled sweetly. "Better than conversing with you for a moment longer!"
Chuuya just rolled his eyes and went to get dressed. Took him long enough.
A few hours later, Dazai moved to his desk to get some writing done. He'd been hoping that maybe, if he tried to configure his thoughts on paper, he'd attain some level of clarity regarding the whole Chuuya Problem.
At the top of a fresh page Dazai wrote, Operation Make Chuuya Think He Wants To Kiss Me. Beneath that he scribbled a few ideas down, including 'pretend to drown so that Chuuya gives me CPR' and 'rig a game of spin the bottle', both of which seemed a bit difficult to pull off. After all, if he drowned himself, there was always the chance that Chuuya wouldn't bother to save him, and rigging spin the bottle was—
Dazai let his head fall to the desk with an audible thump and groaned. Every idea that came to him had at least one glaring weakness that rendered it unlikely, if not impossible, to work. Short of actually asking Chuuya to kiss him, Dazai honestly didn't know how to proceed, but he did know that he couldn't do this alone. He needed to consult Oda and Ango for this one; how else could he figure out how to get Chuuya to kiss him again?
I'll tell them tomorrow, Dazai resolved, letting his eyes fall shut. They'll know what to do.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
Oda stared at Dazai. "You kissed Chuuya," he repeated slowly, "and you want to do it again?"
"Well," Dazai hedged, "technically he kissed me—"
"Which you asked him to do," Ango interjected. "Do I have that right?"
"As a favor, yes," Dazai replied defensively. "Your point?" He wiped down the bar as he spoke, since he and Ango were both technically working. Oda had agreed to visit them to discuss Dazai's 'very important matter', and their conversation had been mostly uninterrupted by patrons, at least so far. It was lucky that the bar was seldom busy on Sundays.
Dazai had given them the short version of the Chuuya Problem, and although neither Oda nor Ango looked particularly judgemental, Dazai wasn't sure he wanted them to know how deep the problem truly went.
Ango sighed. "Didn't he give you a second favor? Why not just use that one?"
"Nah," Dazai said dismissively. "I'm saving that one .Besides, the point is to make Chuuya want to kiss me."
Oda looked perplexed. "Which you want…why, exactly?"
Dazai shrugged. "I'm bored." Partially true.
"You can't be serious," Ango muttered under his breath.
"So what you're saying," Oda broke in, "is that you want to kiss Chuuya because you're bored, but you want Chuuya to want to kiss you because…" he frowned. "You want to be wanted?"
"I'm not paying you to psychoanalyze me," Dazai said with a scowl. "I don't want to be wanted, I wantChuuya to kiss me, but that can't happen unless he thinks he wants to! Get it?"
"I really don't," Ango said, rubbing his forehead.
"I am lost as well," Oda admitted. "Is there a reason you can't just ask Chuuya to kiss you?"
"Well, if I do that, he'll think I want to kiss him," Dazai reasoned.
Ango gave Dazai a long look. "You don't?"
"No, I want him to kiss me," Dazai emphasized, exasperated. "How are you not getting this?"
Ango put down his drink and groaned. "Okay, look," he said directly. "I don't know why you're so obsessed with Chuuya—"
"I am not obsessed—"
"But," Ango continued, "I think you need to learn to communicate your needs. Haven't you ever asked someone to kiss you before?"
"Technically, I asked Chuuya when I used my first favor," Dazai pointed out.
Ango gave him a flat stare. "Apart from that."
Dazai shrugged. "Not really. There usually isn't any asking involved."
Ango and Oda exchanged a look, and Oda said, "Perhaps there should be."
Dazai tilted his head. "Do people like being asked?"
"Some people," Oda replied. "It varies from person to person, but I don't think it ever hurts to ask, especially when it comes to casual relationships."
Dazai frowned. "Not a relationship."
"Casual flings," Oda corrected.
"Not a fling, either," Dazai told them. "It's…a thing.Now do either of you have any real advice for me?"
"Apart from communicating directly?" Ango said pointedly. "No, we don't."
Dazai rolled his eyes. "Odasaku?"
Oda grimaced. "Sorry, Dazai," he replied. "I honestly don't know how to help."
Dazai sighed. "I expected this. Thanks anyway." He paused before adding, "Do you think there's any chance Chuuya would give me CPR if I pretended to drown myself?"
Oda's brow wrinkled. "Please don't do that."
"You're right, he wouldn't save me anyway," Dazai agreed glumly.
Oda finished his drink before sliding the empty glass to Dazai. "I have to go to the library, but keep us posted on your…problem."
"Will do," Dazai replied. Oda left, and Ango went to the back to restock their gin supply, leaving Dazai to man the bar alone.
The rest of the shift passed quickly, and Dazai made it back to the dorm just after 8. Chuuya was out, so Dazai took the opportunity to use his bluetooth speaker. He'd only used it a handful of times since he'd received it, but he greatly enjoyed being able to move about freely while listening to music without having to worry about being attached to his phone.
Dazai put on artsick by tricot and hummed along as he tidied up his desk area and got out a can of crab. Chuuya was definitely wrong about them being expired, probably, and Dazai wouldn't particularly mind death by canned crab, anyway.
Chuuya returned a few songs later, bringing with him the scent of oranges. He must have showered in the dorm bathroom, then, Dazai thought. He willed himself not to look at Chuuya and failed. As per usual, he wore nothing but a towel around his waist, and his hair was dripping on the carpet again.
Dazai gritted his teeth. He tried not to move—really, he did—but in the end he failed. He went over to Chuuya, grabbing his own towel on the way, and then roughly tossed it over Chuuya's head.
"Oi, what're you doing?" Chuuya snapped, voice slightly muffled by the towel.
Dazai rubbed his head roughly, ignoring his flailing limbs. "Drying your hair."
Chuuya clocked Dazai in the nose, and Dazai stepped back with a grunt. "You're messing up my hair, asshole," Chuuya grumbled.
Dazai removed the towel and tossed it into his hamper, since there was no way he was about to use a Chuuya-smelling towel on his own body. "Fine, catch a cold and die for all I care."
"You first," Chuuya retorted.
Dazai frowned. "That doesn't even make sense."
"Your face doesn't make sense."
Dazai stuck his tongue out at Chuuya and returned to his bed. His music was still blasting, the chaotic ups-and-downs of nigatsu no heitai filling the space. Dazai sang along loudly just to piss off Chuuya.
Chuuya glared at Dazai. "I'm gonna fucking kill you if you don't stop," he threatened.
Dazai stopped singing and grinned at Chuuya. "Oh, are you now?"
"Your taste in music is questionable enough without your awful voice screeching along," Chuuya fired back.
Dazai scowled. "The cabs are an excellent band," he defended. "It's not my fault you fail to recognize that."
"Turn. It. Off," Chuuya gritted out.
"Party pooper," Dazai replied. "Why don't you just use earbuds?"
"Why don't you?" Chuuya said pointedly.
"Why would I do that when I have a speaker?" Dazai shot back.
"Because your music is so loud that I'll hear it even with my earbuds in," Chuuya snapped.
Dazai shrugged. "Not my problem." He turned the music up a bit as Chuuya stalked over to Dazai's bed.
That was when Dazai realized his first mistake. Chuuya still wore nothing but the towel, and up close it was really hard not to stare—
"Turn it off or else," Chuuya growled.
Dazai pretended to consider for a moment before saying, "Nah."
That was his second mistake. In an instant, Chuuya had shoved Dazai off of his bed. He landed in a heap on the floor, groaning and rubbing his sore head. "Such a brute," he grumbled.
"I fucking warned you, didn't I?" Chuuya replied. Lucky for Dazai, he stood about a foot away, which was just far enough that Dazai couldn't have looked up his towel if he wanted to (which he didn't, obviously. That would be weird).
Dazai sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll use headphones," he conceded. "But only so that Chuuya will stop yapping."
"I'm not—"
"Yes, yes," Dazai said dismissively. "You're not a dog, I know." Chuuya looked surprised for a split second before Dazai said, "You're actually a slug!"
Chuuya looked pissed by that. "Oi," he barked. "Enough with the slug comments. Besides, you can't talk, you mackerel-faced bastard."
Dazai pushed himself to his feet and dusted himself off primly. "Mackerel are known for their beauty, you know. Anyways, better a fish than a slug."
Chuuya sputtered angrily as Dazai climbed back into his bed. "You're the fucking worst," he said finally before storming back to his own side of the room to get dressed. Dazai didn't look his way once, even though he kind of wanted to. Not because he wanted to see Chuuya naked—no, Dazai just hoped to find something about Chuuya he could make fun of.
After all, he had no such tastes in men.
(Sure, he'd fucked around with guys in the past, but he was never really into it. Most of the time he'd been too drunk to care whether he had a good time. Most of the time he hadn't wanted it in the first place, but they said he did, and what did Dazai know?)
Dazai couldn't identify his emotions on a good day. The point was, he didn't enjoy having sex with men. Ergo, he wasn't gay.
(If he was being honest, he'd never particularly enjoyed having sex with women, either. More often than not, physical contact felt repulsive to him. Sex was a transaction, a means to get what he wanted, and even when he wanted nothing, it was just easier to do what they wanted than it was to walk away.)
Sometimes Dazai wondered if he simply didn't have the emotional capacity for romantic attraction, or even attraction, period. For a long time it seemed that he didn't; he could fake it when he wanted to, but it never once had felt genuine. Truthfully, Dazai wasn't sure he'd be able to recognize attraction if it punched him in the face.
So the real question was this: why did he want to kiss Chuuya of all people?
It made no sense to Dazai. None of it did. He didn't even like Chuuya.
See, Dazai wasn't fond of making bad decisions. He'd made plenty of them in his life, and most had gotten him into situations he'd rather have avoided. Chuuya didn't feel like those situations, though. He felt dangerous, but not because he posed any actual risk to Dazai. No, Chuuya felt dangerous because Dazai could only predict 95% of his moves. It sounded like enough, but typically Dazai could read people with 100% accuracy (Fyodor, Oda and Ranpo being the three exceptions).
Chuuya was both volatile and impulsive, which made him more difficult for Dazai to understand, despite the fact that his brain wasn't incredibly complex. He certainly wasn't stupid—Dazai had been wrong to assume such a thing from the start—but he also wasn't complicated in the way that Fyodor and Ranpo were, or inscrutable like Oda was. He made no sense to Dazai, which made Dazai automatically wary.
It really was a shame Dazai couldn't seem to get rid of him. Dazai's life was so much easier before Chuuya was in it; by now it was far too late to escape his gravity.
(Dazai was beginning to wonder if he even wanted to.)
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
On Tuesday, Dazai had his fifth appointment with Fukuzawa. Annoying as it was, Ranpo had been right about Dazai's aversion to bringing up more serious matters. Still, despite Ranpo calling him out during his birthday party, Dazai had wasted his last session talking about arbitrary things, and he was determined not to do it again.
He arrived just before one, and went straight down the hall to Fukuzawa's office. Inside, Fukuzawa was seated at his desk typing something up on his computer, while Sensei lay in Dazai's usual chair. Fukuzawa glanced at Dazai when he entered and said, "Apologies for Mii-chan. I can move him if you'd like."
"It's fine," said Dazai, waving dismissively. "I'll take the sofa." He sat to one side, propping his elbow on the armrest, while Fukuzawa rolled his chair closer to Dazai.
"How are you feeling, regarding the medication?" Fukuzawa asked.
"No side effects," Dazai replied. "Well, my dreams are kinda weird, but they always have been." The previous night he'd dreamed that he was back in the theater, but this time it had turned into a strange, large house that took what felt like hours to explore. It reminded Dazai of his childhood home, except some rooms were based on other places, including Oda and Ango's apartment and his and Chuuya's dorm room. Very weird.
"Would you describe them as nightmares?" Fukuzawa asked.
"Not always," Dazai answered. "Sometimes, sure."
Fukuzawa hummed and made a note in his journal. "And in general how is your mood?"
Dazai shrugged. "Decent. I haven't had any episodes, as far as I'm aware."
Fukuzawa nodded. "That's good to hear. Is there anything in particular you'd like to talk about today?"
Dazai hesitated. Say it, he commanded himself. Just say it.
He couldn't. Instead he blurted, "Chuuya got mad at me for playing music in my own room."
"Don't you share a room?" Fukuzawa asked patiently.
"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean he should get to control my life," Dazai complained. "He could have just used earbuds like he usually does."
"Does he listen to music often?" Fukuzawa inquired.
"Almost as much as I do," Dazai informed him. "His taste isn't nearly as refined, though." Dazai actually had no idea what kind of music Chuuya listened to, but he wasn't about to admit that. He continued ranting about Chuuya and quickly lost track of time. Before Dazai knew it, there were only 5 minutes left in the session.
"Would you like to meet at the usual time in two weeks?" Fukuzawa checked.
"Yes," Dazai confirmed. He hesitated for a long moment before saying, abruptly, "Though I'm afraid I might be wasting your time."
"What makes you say that?" Fukuzawa asked.
Dazai shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. "We've met 5 times, and only spoken of superficial things. I have so much I want to say, but—" Ugh, why was this so hard to say? "I don't know."
"Why don't you give me a general idea of what you want to say, and I'll try to ask questions that let you speak about it?" Fukuzawa suggested. "Nothing too invasive, of course."
Dazai let out the breath he'd been holding, forcing his face to remain neutral. "That could work."
Fukuzawa hummed. "What is the most pressing topic you'd like to discuss?"
Starting with a difficult one, I see. Though for most people, Dazai supposed it wouldn't be such a hard question to answer. "Uhhh," he hedged. "Well…my friends suspect that my nightmares are being caused by some…stuff that happened to me in high school."
After a brief pause Fukuzawa asked, "Can you tell me what happened?"
"Not yet," Dazai admitted. "I mean, I want to."
"Would you consider what happened to be a traumatic experience?" Fukuzawa pushed gently.
Dazai shrugged helplessly. "I don't think so."
"Do your friends think so?"
"They're the reason I'm seeing you," Dazai informed him. "So yes."
Fukuzawa closed his notebook and looked directly at Dazai. "Are you ashamed to talk about what happened?"
Dazai considered that for a moment before shaking his head slowly. "It's not that. It's…I didn't realize what I'd gone through was considered trauma, I guess. I still don't, really. I'm doing this for my friends."
"Not for yourself, even a little bit?" Fukuzawa said, still watching him steadily.
Dazai hesitated. "I don't know."
Fukuzawa stood and said, "Unfortunately, we've gone overtime, and I have a meeting to attend this afternoon. However, I'd like for you to try writing down some of the things that happened to you. You can start with the ones that cause you less mental turmoil for now."
None of them do, Dazai wanted to say. "Do I have to share them with you?" Dazai asked instead.
"You don't, if you're not comfortable," Fukuzawa replied. "But I will listen when you're ready."
"What if I never am?"
Fukuzawa shrugged. "It's possible you'll find a way to process the trauma, or that its impact will lessen with time."
"It's not likely though, is it?" Dazai asked lightly.
"No," Fukuzawa agreed. "Still, I don't want you to feel pressured or rushed."
"Thank you," Dazai said sincerely. "I'll try writing. No promises though."
"No promises necessary," Fukuzawa answered. "See you in two weeks, Dazai-kun."
"See you in two weeks," Dazai replied.
As he headed back to the dorm, Dazai wondered if maybe he shouldn't have said anything after all. He didn't feel ready to open up to Fukuzawa, but he also wasn't sure he could put it off any longer. It's not like it would get any easier.
(It wasn't supposed to be easy, anyway.)
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
Dazai didn't know what to do with himself. He still had almost an hour before he had to leave for work, and he was bored. His default activity was usually annoying Chuuya, who had returned from volleyball practice about half an hour ago, but right now Chuuya was at his desk, earbuds firmly in his ears.
Dazai had tried reading, writing, doodling, even sleeping, but it seemed that nothing could cure him of his boredom. "Chuuuu-yaaa," he groaned, loudly enough that Chuuya's head lifted to glare at Dazai.
Chuuya tugged out one of his earbuds and snapped, "What do you want, asshat?"
Dazai blinked at him innocently. "I'm bored. Also, if anyone's the ass hat, don't you think it'd be yourself?"
"You're bored," Chuuya repeated incredulously. "What does that have to do with me?"
Dazai pouted. "As my roommate—"
" Unwilling roommate," Chuuya corrected with a scowl.
"Semantics," said Dazai dismissively. "Don't you think you ought to keep me entertained? I'm like a cat, you know. If I'm not kept entertained, I'll start pushing things off of every visible surface."
Chuuya stared at him. "You—"
"Watch this," Dazai continued, and then proceeded to hop out of bed, cross the room, and push the contents of Chuuya's desk—several books, a notebook, a few pens and a glass of water—onto the floor.
Chuuya's face contorted in anger. "What the fuck is your problem?"
Dazai thought about that for a moment before saying, "Come to think of it, I'm not sure!"
Chuuya stood so abruptly that his chair fell over. Dazai backed away slowly as Chuuya approached, expression murderous. "You probably got my notebook wet," he seethed. "I swear to god, Dazai—"
Dazai was grinning as he dodged Chuuya's fist. Then, while Dazai was still recovering his momentum, Chuuya grabbed him by the throat.
Dazai's grin widened. That's more like it.
"I hate that you get off on this," Chuuya grumbled, pressing his thumb into Dazai's windpipe. "Would you like it if I killed you right now?"
"Chuuya knows the answer to that," Dazai gasped. "Now are you going to do it?"
Chuuya's grip tightened incrementally. "What if I did? Wouldn't that ruin your plan to die by double suicide with a beautiful woman?"
Dazai smirked. "You're close enough, I suppose." Chuuya looked disgusted and loosened his grip as if to pull away. Before he could, Dazai's hand shot out and latched onto Chuuya's wrist, keeping his hand in place. "C'mon," Dazai insisted, or rather goaded. "Do it. Break my neck, crush my windpipe, I don't care."
Chuuya tried to pull his hand away, but Dazai refused to let him go. "Why should I give you what you want?"
What I want, Dazai thought deliriously. He was beginning to grow lightheaded. It was a nice feeling. I want Chuuya to kiss me.
Chuuya's eyes widened, and only then did Dazai realize he'd spoken out loud. Shit. "You want to kiss me?" Chuuya repeated in disbelief, finally succeeding in pulling his hand from Dazai's neck. "Why?"
Dazai took in deep gulps of air before replying, "Must there be a reason?"
Chuuya's hand hung in the air, as if it wanted very much to return to Dazai's throat. "I won't kiss you if you don't give me a reason."
"The reason is that I want you to kiss me," Dazai replied.
"But why?" Chuuya repeated.
Dazai rolled his eyes. "Stop thinking so hard about it. People kiss all the time, don't they?"
"People don't kiss people they hate," Chuuya fired back. "I think."
Dazai raised an eyebrow. "Ever heard of hate sex, hat rack?"
Chuuya sputtered. "I am not having sex with you!"
"I didn't ask you to," Dazai pointed out. "I asked you for a kiss. If you say no, I won't ask again." After all, Dazai might be an asshole, but he wasn't an asshole.
Chuuya still looked like he didn't trust Dazai as far as he could throw him, which, fair. "How am I supposed to know you won't just use this against me somehow?"
Dazai sighed. "Chuuya," he said impatiently, "do you really think I want anyone to know about this?" Chuuya shook his head, and Dazai added, "Don't get me wrong, I still hate your guts, and I know the feeling is mutual. But—" he paused. "I'm…bored."
Chuuya gave him a long look, and then his eyes widened. "You're lonely, aren't you?"
Dazai huffed. "I'm not lonely! I have friends, you know."
"You're touch-starved," Chuuya corrected.
"I'm not," Dazai insisted. "I told you, I'm bored."
Chuuya shook his head. "It's not just that," he muttered. "When's the last time you touched someone for longer than a second?"
"Three minutes ago, when you grabbed me by the neck," Dazai replied easily.
"That doesn't count," Chuuya argued. "I was doing that to hurt you."
"I liked it, though," Dazai reminded him.
"Yeah, because you're fucked in the head," Chuuya responded. "Doesn't mean it counts."
Dazai sighed. "Are you going to kiss me or not?"
Chuuya gazed at him for a long moment. "I don't get you."
"I don't get you," Dazai shot back.
Chuuya rolled his eyes. "Come here."
" You come here—" Dazai cut off with a yelp as Chuuya grabbed his collar and yanked. Suddenly their faces were centimeters apart.
"Just to be clear," Chuuya said, voice low, "I'm not doing this for you."
"I don't know what that means," Dazai said truthfully.
"It means I'm bored, too," Chuuya snapped, nose nearly brushing Dazai's, "and I'm restless, and for some reason, I think that kissing you will help. So I'm doing this for me. "
"Selfish Chuuya," Dazai murmured. "I suppose that's all right, as long as you make it good for me, too."
"Why wouldn't I?" Chuuya grumbled. "Now shut up."
Chuuya's mouth pressed against his before he could say 'make me', and every conscious thought left Dazai's head. One of Chuuya's hands found its way back to Dazai's neck and caressed the side of it, making Dazai shiver. Is he trying to kill me? Dazai wondered. If he was, Dazai wouldn't mind.
(This wasn't such a bad way to die.)