Fem SKK AU in which best friends Chuuya and Dazai have been sharing things with each other their entire lives: clothes, screenshots, bathrooms — you name it. The one thing they've never shared is /a kiss./
Until one night, they do, and everything changes.
Until one night, they do, and everything changes.
(What they don't know is that all the confusing, angst-ridden feelings that arise in the aftermath of that kiss? They're going to be the least of their problems.)
***
***
/It starts out with a kiss./
***
“So hey, do you wanna go and get some fresh air with me?”
"Uh."
***
“So hey, do you wanna go and get some fresh air with me?”
"Uh."
Chuuya's eyes twitch as she stares at the sheepish expression on Tachihara's face, the urge to immediately find one person and one person only -- one that is not the boy standing in front of her -- so big that she almost does turn away from him before remembering that he asked +
her a question. A very important one, actually. "Sure. I just need to go to the bathroom first, yeah?" Tachihara opens his mouth but she's already starting to walk away. "I'll be right back!"
"O-okay. I'll wait right... here then?"
"O-okay. I'll wait right... here then?"
If he says anything else, his words get drowned out by the noise of the birthday party around them.
Chuuya elbows her way through the thick crowd in the living room and towards the front door where Dazai’s currently standing with a few other people, an oversized denim jacket thrown around her shoulders, which means that she must have been outside the entire time. Smoking.
tw // mentioned drugs
The lingering smell of weed and cheap vanilla deodorant confirm Chuuya's guess when she finally reaches her.
/Traitor./
The lingering smell of weed and cheap vanilla deodorant confirm Chuuya's guess when she finally reaches her.
/Traitor./
“Hi,” Chuuya says into the round as she grabs Dazai’s wrist -- some stoners from their year that she only ever sees coming back from lunch breaks with red eyes and hazy smiles. “Sorry, but I’m stealing her.”
“Ah,” Dazai says in parting before stumbling after Chuuya. “I'm being stolen. Why am I being stolen?”
“I need to pee.”
“Heh, Tachihara wasn't entertaining? Color me surprised.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“I need to pee.”
“Heh, Tachihara wasn't entertaining? Color me surprised.”
“Oh, shut up.”
There are three guys waiting in front of the bathroom, and when it opens, Chuuya cuts the line, yelling, “sorry, girl problems!” when they start protesting, banging the door shut before they can do anything about it.
Dazai arches a brow once they’re alone. +
Dazai arches a brow once they’re alone. +
“I told you beer will make you piss every two seconds.”
“It’s not the /beer/,” Chuuya mutters even as she sits down on the toilet, making a face. “Well, not only. Tachihara has asked me to go outside with him!”
Dazai’s stupid long lashes flutter. +
“It’s not the /beer/,” Chuuya mutters even as she sits down on the toilet, making a face. “Well, not only. Tachihara has asked me to go outside with him!”
Dazai’s stupid long lashes flutter. +
“What, like now?” she asks, turning to the cabinet above the sink and starting to snoop shamelessly.
“Well, he's been trying for the last hour which you'd have known if you weren’t outside smoking all the time.”
“I'd have asked you to join but Chuuya doesn’t like my friends.”
“Well, he's been trying for the last hour which you'd have known if you weren’t outside smoking all the time.”
“I'd have asked you to join but Chuuya doesn’t like my friends.”
“They’re not your friends. They just provide you with free weed because they want to bang you.”
“Chuuya doesn’t like the people providing me with free weed because they want to bang me then.”
Reaching for the toilet paper, Chuuya rolls her eyes. +
“Chuuya doesn’t like the people providing me with free weed because they want to bang me then.”
Reaching for the toilet paper, Chuuya rolls her eyes. +
“Should have just asked me to go.”
“The prestigious Nakahara Chuuya smoking!” Dazai gasps out, shaking her head in mock shock. “What would the people say?”
“Don’t you ever get tired of being so annoying?”
“Not if it makes you glare like that, no.”
“The prestigious Nakahara Chuuya smoking!” Dazai gasps out, shaking her head in mock shock. “What would the people say?”
“Don’t you ever get tired of being so annoying?”
“Not if it makes you glare like that, no.”
Chuuya huffs, and gets up, flushing the toilet. “The prestigious Nakahara Chuuya wants to kick your fucking ass.”
“And she curses too!”
“Dazai! Focus on the important things!"
“And she curses too!”
“Dazai! Focus on the important things!"
“All right, all right,” Dazai relents, making space for Chuuya at the sink so she can wash her hands while Dazai opens creams and lotions left and right, even sniffing some of them.
“Tachihara finally made his move. Wonderful. Wasn't he number one on your list of /men I don't want to immediately murder/?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“But what?”
Chuuya scowls at Dazai in the mirror. “I don’t know. +
“Well, yeah, but…”
“But what?”
Chuuya scowls at Dazai in the mirror. “I don’t know. +
Do I really want to, y'know, hook up with him? He’s kind of stupid.”
“What’s wrong with that? You're talking to a stupid person right now.”
“You’re not stupid, you’re --” Chuuya makes a /you’re just you/ gesture with her hand, which makes Dazai grin goofily. +
“What’s wrong with that? You're talking to a stupid person right now.”
“You’re not stupid, you’re --” Chuuya makes a /you’re just you/ gesture with her hand, which makes Dazai grin goofily. +
Sighing, Chuuya turns off the faucet. “You're just burned out from being an over-achiever as a kid, so now you're numbing all your issues with drugs and alcohol.”
Dazai dramatically clutches her chest.
“Not the same thing,” Chuuya concludes.
Dazai dramatically clutches her chest.
“Not the same thing,” Chuuya concludes.
Shrugging, Dazai turns back to the mirror and fusses with her hair, short and tousled and yet still perfect in its chaos. It’s unfair how effortlessly gorgeous she is sometimes -- well, who's Chuuya kidding: most of the time.
(She does have her awkward angles, especially after nights like these.) “I think Chuuya’s looking for excuses.”
Chuuya’s stare melts off her face and transforms into an offended scowl. “Hah?”
“You’re nervous. +
Chuuya’s stare melts off her face and transforms into an offended scowl. “Hah?”
“You’re nervous. +
You don’t want anyone to see that you can be such a thing as nervous. You haven’t had your first kiss --”
“I did have my first kiss!“
“A peck on the lips doesn’t count,” Dazai points out. “That would make /me/ your first kiss.”
Chuuya huffs out an irritated breath. +
“I did have my first kiss!“
“A peck on the lips doesn’t count,” Dazai points out. “That would make /me/ your first kiss.”
Chuuya huffs out an irritated breath. +
“We were seven fucking years old, idiot, and it wasn't an /actual/ kiss.”
“That's why the peck you shared with your precious Thomas from Paris wasn't a kiss either.”
Chuuya crosses her arms. “So I haven’t had my first kiss yet. Big deal! I’m not nervous about that.”
“That's why the peck you shared with your precious Thomas from Paris wasn't a kiss either.”
Chuuya crosses her arms. “So I haven’t had my first kiss yet. Big deal! I’m not nervous about that.”
The wall of false confidence only stands still for so long. Then Dazai tilts her head knowingly, arching one eyebrow, reading every single thought inside Chuuya’s head with ease because, of course, she can do that.
The wall shatters into a tiny million pieces, and Chuuya’s shoulders sag under their weight.
“Okay, so I am nervous! You’re my best friend; you should be /supportive/ instead of bullying me!”
“Okay, so I am nervous! You’re my best friend; you should be /supportive/ instead of bullying me!”
“I’m just stating facts, and nothing I would say isn’t something you haven’t already told yourself a thousand times.”
Dazai's not wrong. Chuuya has told herself that something as stupid and irrelevant as a first kiss, or her lack thereof, shouldn’t bother her that much. She has told herself about a thousand times by now that it’s okay, that there’s nothing to be ashamed of.
And yet.
Here she is.
Chuuya’s hands curl around the edge of the sink. “Dazai, what do I do? What if he kisses me and I’m-- /bad?/” Chuuya can’t be bad. She’s excellent. She’s good at everything she does. Failing at something so human and natural can’t be how it goes.
Here she is.
Chuuya’s hands curl around the edge of the sink. “Dazai, what do I do? What if he kisses me and I’m-- /bad?/” Chuuya can’t be bad. She’s excellent. She’s good at everything she does. Failing at something so human and natural can’t be how it goes.
“What if he starts /laughing?/”
Dazai snorts softly. “As if you’d ever let that happen.”
“Dazai,” Chuuya whines. “I think I’m going to be sick. I can't do it. I can't.”
Dazai snorts softly. “As if you’d ever let that happen.”
“Dazai,” Chuuya whines. “I think I’m going to be sick. I can't do it. I can't.”
Two hands land on her shoulders, and with her heart beating inside her chest like crazy, Chuuya forces her eyes open, staring up into the mars-brown ones of her best friend since childhood. The person who has seen her at her /worst/, who has seen her curled up on the floor of +
the bathroom from emptying her stomach all night after their first stolen bottle of vodka, who has heard Chuuya scream in her closet after fights with her mother, and who stayed up with her to beat maths and physics into her brain for the test on the next morning, and somehow +
looking at Dazai, having her here when Chuuya is /this/ close to a nervous breakdown is enough to calm some of the nerves.
“First, you’re going to take a sip of this --” Dazai hands her a silver flask, and Chuuya doesn’t even have room in her head to be confused about where she got it from, greedily accepting it and taking a few desperate sips. /Fuck./ +
It tastes like shit but it burns good. She wipes at her mouth and nods. “-- then,” Dazai continues, “we are going to practice and make a kissing champion out of you.”
Chuuya feels the alcohol she inhaled hit her way too fast. “W-what?”
“Do you want to be a good kisser or not?"
Chuuya feels the alcohol she inhaled hit her way too fast. “W-what?”
“Do you want to be a good kisser or not?"
"Yes..."
“Do you trust me?”
“Yeah…”
“So I’m going to show you how it’s done.” When Chuuya keeps staring, Dazai offers her a lopsided grin. The world around them goes one, but the moment right here, right now stills as if stuck in a photograph. +
“Do you trust me?”
“Yeah…”
“So I’m going to show you how it’s done.” When Chuuya keeps staring, Dazai offers her a lopsided grin. The world around them goes one, but the moment right here, right now stills as if stuck in a photograph. +
“Just like the first time, remember? It’s really not that complicated.”
“You say that about everything,” Chuuya mutters weakly.
/Algebra? Oh, really not that complicated./
/Picking a lock with a hairpin? Easy peasy./
/Kissing?/ --
“You say that about everything,” Chuuya mutters weakly.
/Algebra? Oh, really not that complicated./
/Picking a lock with a hairpin? Easy peasy./
/Kissing?/ --
“Because nothing ever is,” Dazai replies with a shrug. There is still a decent amount of space between them, but she has that glint in her eyes -- Dazai's scheming face, Chuuya likes to call it; +
the one that Dazai gets when she has an idea that not even God herself could talk her out of. So it rests on Chuuya’s shoulders now. To make the decision. To say /yes/, or to say /no./
Did Chuuya ever imagine Dazai to be her first kiss whenever she wondered who it'd be? No.
Did Chuuya ever imagine Dazai to be her first kiss whenever she wondered who it'd be? No.
Does she mind that it’s Dazai? Not really. Does it make sense? Yes. Is it going to awkward? Kind of... then again, why should Chuuya make such a big deal out of a purely educational kiss? God knows they’ve done worse things together.
Fingers curling into fists, Chuuya gives her a valiant nod. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
“There she goes,” Dazai drawls, wrapping her fingers around Chuuya’s wrists until they slide lower, trying to get her to open her palms. “But I need you to /relax./ +
“There she goes,” Dazai drawls, wrapping her fingers around Chuuya’s wrists until they slide lower, trying to get her to open her palms. “But I need you to /relax./ +
This is supposed to be a lesson in kissing, not a fistfight.”
“Everything is a fistfight if you want it to be.” Chuuya’s voice is starting to sound strained even to her own ears. “C'mon, what are you waiting for?”
“So impatient..."
“Dazai!”
“All right, all right.”
“Everything is a fistfight if you want it to be.” Chuuya’s voice is starting to sound strained even to her own ears. “C'mon, what are you waiting for?”
“So impatient..."
“Dazai!”
“All right, all right.”
With a sudden tug on Chuuya's hands, Dazai makes her stumble forward until they're all tangled up in each other, Dazai’s fingers traveling up the length of Chuuya’s arm with nerve-wracking tenderness until they can cup her cheek -- grip it, really.
Chuuya’s not sure whether the pulse in her ears is her own heart trying to escape or the beat of the song that is playing outside the bathroom. It probably doesn’t matter anyway. “There has to be a right moment.”
“Huh?”
“A right moment. You have to be on the same page. +
“Huh?”
“A right moment. You have to be on the same page. +
If you're not even thinking about it and Tachihara’s suddenly shoving his tongue down your throat, it’s not the right one. It’s like this... magnetic pull deep inside your chest. Gravity will tell you everything you need to know.”
“Are you trying to teach me kissing or some physical formula?”
When Dazai laughs, Chuuya feels it on her face, weed, fruity, over-sugared gum, and a whiff of whatever liquor she’s storing in that flask of hers. “Chuuya’s the most terrible student I’ve ever had.”
When Dazai laughs, Chuuya feels it on her face, weed, fruity, over-sugared gum, and a whiff of whatever liquor she’s storing in that flask of hers. “Chuuya’s the most terrible student I’ve ever had.”
“You did this with others too?” The thought shouldn’t be so offending, but it is. Teaching someone how to kiss should be a privilege only granted to /best friends/, and that's /Chuuya./ No one else. +
“Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know. Just --” She gestures for Dazai to go on before Chuuya completely loses her goddamn mind.
“Okay. Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Chuuya is /not/ ready for Dazai to both lean down while tilting Chuuya's chin up because she ends up bursting out into breathless, nervous laughter, giggling against the corner of Dazai’s mouth as she tries to hang onto the last frays of her sanity.
Dazai laughs too -- quiet, warm laughter that helps Chuuya feel less bad about her reaction, Dazai's fingers rubbing reassuring patterns into the skin of Chuuya’s cheek before she turns her head ever so slightly and --
Dazai kisses her. /Really/ kisses her, this time.
Dazai kisses her. /Really/ kisses her, this time.
Her lips are soft and warm and slow.
Then Dazai kisses her again, putting a tinge more pressure into it, and Chuuya’s heart flutters wildly inside her chest. Kissing -- it’s not what Chuuya imagined it to be. It’s slicker, hotter, and way more intimate to be so close to +
Then Dazai kisses her again, putting a tinge more pressure into it, and Chuuya’s heart flutters wildly inside her chest. Kissing -- it’s not what Chuuya imagined it to be. It’s slicker, hotter, and way more intimate to be so close to +
someone, sharing each other's air. Not worse than her expectations. Not necessarily better either. Just /different./
Dazai pulls away to raise her brows questioningly.
Chuuya shrugs wordlessly.
So Dazai slots their mouths back together.
Dazai pulls away to raise her brows questioningly.
Chuuya shrugs wordlessly.
So Dazai slots their mouths back together.
It’s stranger, too, because somehow every movie and manga out there convinces you that it’s this super romantic thing, but this doesn’t feel all that romantic, more like a lesson and --
Dazai tilts her head, changing the angle, and Chuuya dies a little inside when her best friend’s lips slide against her in a new, very unexpected, very dizzying way. For once in her life, Chuuya's body operates on pure instinct. She doesn’t /think/ about what to do.
Instead, she does what her mind, body, and soul /need/ to do, and right now, she really needs to raise herself on her tiptoes, curl her hands around Dazai’s neck and get /closer/, get /more/ because whatever it is that they’re doing, it feels /so, so good./
She feels Dazai’s fleeting surprise against her mouth, and that only spurs her on because what is Chuuya, if not a chronic over-achiever?
Their relationship has always been a mix of blind, unyielding trust from sharing too many defining experiences over the last ten years, closeness since they not only spend 95% of their time together but literally live next to each other, and /competition./
So, of course, +
So, of course, +
when Chuuya gets the gist of doing this, of kissing her best friend -- it really isn't all that complicated -- Dazai is going to be a stubborn shithead about it.
The kiss becomes harder, a little more forceful, and someone starts walking until Dazai's back hits the door.
The kiss becomes harder, a little more forceful, and someone starts walking until Dazai's back hits the door.
The soft /oof/ that slips out of her is enough to make both of them pull away for a few breathless moments, Chuuya's chest heaving as she takes in the hazy gleam in Dazai's eyes, her /lips/ and what they look like after Chuuya and --
"I can hear you overthinking," Dazai says +
"I can hear you overthinking," Dazai says +
with an amused grin as her fingers play with one of Chuuya's loose strands. "Relax. You're doing good."
"I know I'm doing good," Chuuya mutters.
"Oh, forgive me for assuming after you almost had a mental breakdown over it two minutes ago."
"That... was a different me."
"I know I'm doing good," Chuuya mutters.
"Oh, forgive me for assuming after you almost had a mental breakdown over it two minutes ago."
"That... was a different me."
Dazai only looks at her, unimpressed.
Chuuya huffs, taking a step closer until their thighs are touching. Earlier Dazai said there is a /right moment/ but now even looking at her for more than one second makes Chuuya want to kiss her all over again. That means they're +
Chuuya huffs, taking a step closer until their thighs are touching. Earlier Dazai said there is a /right moment/ but now even looking at her for more than one second makes Chuuya want to kiss her all over again. That means they're +
doing something right, doesn't it? That's simply the magic of kissing?
"Can we...." Chuuya swallows, not used to asking for things, especially not with Dazai who usually offers her answers without Chuuya ever having to open her mouth. "... practice some more?"
"Can we...." Chuuya swallows, not used to asking for things, especially not with Dazai who usually offers her answers without Chuuya ever having to open her mouth. "... practice some more?"
"/I know I'm good/," Dazai parrots even as she cups the side of Chuuya's face and leans in again, smothering Chuuya's annoyed huff of breath with a kiss.
As their lips slide against each other, a small voice in the back of Chuuya's head wonders whether she perhaps likes it a +
As their lips slide against each other, a small voice in the back of Chuuya's head wonders whether she perhaps likes it a +
little too much. After all, this is /practice/ and once she feels confident enough, she's supposed to go out there and do this with Tachihara. That voice fades away into static noise the moment Dazai nudges her towards the sink, and somehow they manage to get Chuuya up there +
between kissing each other. It's not comfortable, but being the same height as Dazai adds an unexpected tug to the whole thing, makes Chuuya feel like she's floating as Dazai's hands show her every place they can touch.
There's something both /terrifying/ and /thrilling/ +
There's something both /terrifying/ and /thrilling/ +
about doing this with someone she knows so well, someone so close to Chuuya that it almost feels like breaking some kind of unwritten but logical rule they set up a long time ago.
Dazai's tongue swipes over her lips and as Chuuya lets out a surprised, ragged breath, she +
Dazai's tongue swipes over her lips and as Chuuya lets out a surprised, ragged breath, she +
wonders whether Dazai feels the same. Maybe that's why she suggested it in the first place.
Chuuya tries to press closer against her to --
A loud hammering on the door cuts through the room, bringing her back to the present like a bucket of freezing-cold water.
Chuuya tries to press closer against her to --
A loud hammering on the door cuts through the room, bringing her back to the present like a bucket of freezing-cold water.
"C'mon, you've been in there for half an hour! There are people who need to pee!"
Chuuya's brain is still too fogged to form coherent sentences, but luckily Dazai has a way with words -- and her tongue, apparently. "If you want my friend to puke all over the living room +
Chuuya's brain is still too fogged to form coherent sentences, but luckily Dazai has a way with words -- and her tongue, apparently. "If you want my friend to puke all over the living room +
be my guest!"
"Dazai!" Chuuya hisses.
She silently rolls her eyes.
"If someone's /that/ sick you should take them home instead of blocking the bathroom! Francis wouldn't appreciate --"
"Blablabla," Dazai mutters, "Americans are so stingy. Fitzgerald has, like, /eight/ +
"Dazai!" Chuuya hisses.
She silently rolls her eyes.
"If someone's /that/ sick you should take them home instead of blocking the bathroom! Francis wouldn't appreciate --"
"Blablabla," Dazai mutters, "Americans are so stingy. Fitzgerald has, like, /eight/ +
bathrooms."
Trying to straighten out her hair and make it look like someone /didn't/ spend the last thirty minutes driving their fingers through it, Chuuya shakes her head. "It's fine. I should be going anyway. I told Tachihara I'd be right back."
"Right. /Tachihara./"
Trying to straighten out her hair and make it look like someone /didn't/ spend the last thirty minutes driving their fingers through it, Chuuya shakes her head. "It's fine. I should be going anyway. I told Tachihara I'd be right back."
"Right. /Tachihara./"
His name sounds mocking out of Dazai's mouth, and it makes Chuuya frown as she hops off the sink.
"We're... still okay, right?"
Dazai hums, sliding a hand inside her jacket and bringing out her flask. "Wonderful. Why wouldn't we be?"
"We're... still okay, right?"
Dazai hums, sliding a hand inside her jacket and bringing out her flask. "Wonderful. Why wouldn't we be?"
"I don't know. It's just a weird situation."
Dazai takes a swig of the flask, then shrugs. "Now Chuuya is making it weird. Go on. Don't make Tachihara wait any longer."
It feels relieving to know that nothing has changed between them, that everything will remain as +
Dazai takes a swig of the flask, then shrugs. "Now Chuuya is making it weird. Go on. Don't make Tachihara wait any longer."
It feels relieving to know that nothing has changed between them, that everything will remain as +
always no matter what happened here in this room. Chuuya's probably making a bigger deal out of it anyway, what with this being her first kiss and all.
And Dazai? Well, she's high, tipsy, and always looking for some entertainment. Sometimes that entertainment is Chuuya.
And Dazai? Well, she's high, tipsy, and always looking for some entertainment. Sometimes that entertainment is Chuuya.
"Okay," Chuuya nods, grabbing the door handle, "thank you.... for this."
Dazai offers her a peace sign. "I live to serve."
Chuuya's smile as she unlocks the door and slips out of it is both a little confused and unsure. She comes face to face with some blonde asshole who +
Dazai offers her a peace sign. "I live to serve."
Chuuya's smile as she unlocks the door and slips out of it is both a little confused and unsure. She comes face to face with some blonde asshole who +
who gets all up in her face while glowering like she personally murdered his mother.
"WHat?" Chuuya snaps. "I was /sick./"
"For half an hour?"
"That's how being sick works." She doesn't wait around to hear his answer, already trotting down the stairs to see whether +
"WHat?" Chuuya snaps. "I was /sick./"
"For half an hour?"
"That's how being sick works." She doesn't wait around to hear his answer, already trotting down the stairs to see whether +
Tachihara actually stuck around waited for her. She does find him not far away from the last place they talked, and when he spots her, his face lights up and he immediately comes over.
If Chuuya feels her heart falling a little at that, she blames it on the fact that +
If Chuuya feels her heart falling a little at that, she blames it on the fact that +
she's still nervous. She wouldn't go as far as saying she's /in love/ with Tachihara, but he's cute in that dorky sort of way, and even though most of their conversations are painfully awkward, she knows that he likes her, and well -- she likes him, too.
It's not love. +
It's not love. +
A crush, though. That sounds plausible. So it's totally normal to want to walk in the opposite direction when Tachihara starts walking towards her even though she forces herself to meet him in the middle anyway. Or else, practicing with Dazai would have been for nothing.
"Hi," she says, giving him a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry that took longer than expected. My friend wasn't feeling well."
"Oh no, she all right?"
"Now she is."
Tachihara scratches the back of his neck. "Still up for hanging outside? I secured a few bottles of beer."
"Oh no, she all right?"
"Now she is."
Tachihara scratches the back of his neck. "Still up for hanging outside? I secured a few bottles of beer."
Someone behind them yells the name /Dazai!/ and Chuuya's tempted to turn around and look, spend the birthday party with Dazai instead because getting drunk with her is always the most fun. (Go back to that bathroom.)
Instead, Chuuya forces her grin to widen. "Let's go?"
Instead, Chuuya forces her grin to widen. "Let's go?"
In the end, Dazai was right once again. There is /that special moment/: their conversation, which is basically the two of them beating around the bush, trails off into a thick, loaded silence, and Tachihara looks at her, and it is /the/ moment.
It just doesn't feel right.
It just doesn't feel right.
The kiss doesn't either, not really.
Maybe it's because they're both so nervous, or perhaps Tachihara's even less inexperienced than Chuuya, but there's more tongue than necessary, and he never brushes her hair out of her face like Dazai did, and the entire time, +
Maybe it's because they're both so nervous, or perhaps Tachihara's even less inexperienced than Chuuya, but there's more tongue than necessary, and he never brushes her hair out of her face like Dazai did, and the entire time, +
she hopes that he will pull away and say /hey, sorry, but this simply isn't working./ Instead, Tachihara pulls her closer and kisses her again. She lets him.
At some point, they go back inside, fingers interlaced. Tachihara vanishes in the nearest bathroom, and Chuuya uses +
At some point, they go back inside, fingers interlaced. Tachihara vanishes in the nearest bathroom, and Chuuya uses +
the time to raid the kitchen for a new drink. Or three.
She wants to find Dazai and tell her about it. She wants to home, slip into her bed and reconsider her life decisions. She wants to get that bitter taste off her lips.
So Chuuya gets drunk.
She wants to find Dazai and tell her about it. She wants to home, slip into her bed and reconsider her life decisions. She wants to get that bitter taste off her lips.
So Chuuya gets drunk.
After that, the night is a blur.
There is more kissing, not so bad anymore, and there is dancing, two hands around her waist, and loud music playing, and then there is /puking/. and Dazai's voice murmuring, "oh, chibi."
***
There is more kissing, not so bad anymore, and there is dancing, two hands around her waist, and loud music playing, and then there is /puking/. and Dazai's voice murmuring, "oh, chibi."
***
Chuuya has always hated waking up after a night of drinking, and this time is no different. Her head swims; a sick, dizzying sensation is draped over her like a blanket; every muscle feels like jelly; and the dreams she was still having two seconds ago were /intense./
The only good thing is that Chuuya's warm, kind of comfortable even, and --
Her eyes flutter open to the sight of Dazai across from her, eyes squeezed shut as she sleeps, curled in on herself -- just like Chuuya is as well, she realizes dazedly.
Her eyes flutter open to the sight of Dazai across from her, eyes squeezed shut as she sleeps, curled in on herself -- just like Chuuya is as well, she realizes dazedly.
And somehow, she's using Dazai's arm as her pillow.
For a few peaceful moments, Chuuya lies there, letting her mind wake up piece by piece.
And then the memories start breezing in: distorted images tainted by the fog of alcohol without any context or logic.
/Tachihara./
For a few peaceful moments, Chuuya lies there, letting her mind wake up piece by piece.
And then the memories start breezing in: distorted images tainted by the fog of alcohol without any context or logic.
/Tachihara./
/His mouth all over her. Cigarettes. Her classmates' excited cheers. Being sick. Stumbling. Dazai./
/Dazai. Dazai. Dazai./
Stifling a distressed groan, Chuuya buries her face in the sheets.
/Dazai. Dazai. Dazai./
Stifling a distressed groan, Chuuya buries her face in the sheets.
(They smell like Dazai.)
Not a lot of things can make Chuuya feel so powerless, not /in control/, but /this/ -- waking up the day after and remembering all the things she did when it's probably only the half of it? It /sucks./
Not a lot of things can make Chuuya feel so powerless, not /in control/, but /this/ -- waking up the day after and remembering all the things she did when it's probably only the half of it? It /sucks./
Even when she's squeezing her eyes shut and trying to block out the sensation of slobbering all over someone just to prove a point to herself, the memories are /stronger/, invading her mind anyway.
After letting herself wallow in misery for a few minutes, Chuuya finally decides to sit up in bed. The world spins and shifts. "Jesus," she murmurs quietly, trying not to wake up Dazai. A glance to the side reveals Dazai is still soundly asleep, though.
Her hair is sticking up every which way. She still has most of yesterday's eyeliner on, so smudged it makes her look like a little raccoon.
Chuuya was lying yesterday. Dazai has no awkward angles. She's /always/ pretty.
Chuuya was lying yesterday. Dazai has no awkward angles. She's /always/ pretty.
She's struck with the sudden urge to reach out, slide her fingers through the hair, and maybe bother Dazai until she wakes up but --
No.
No, because Dazai likes her sleep since she gets so little of it anyway.
No.
No, because Dazai likes her sleep since she gets so little of it anyway.
No, because Chuuya's too dizzy to even breathe properly without a new wave of nausea drowning her.
No, because they're not like /that./ Those touchy, feelsy kinds of best friends who hug all the time and give each other cheek kisses or whatever.
No, because they're not like /that./ Those touchy, feelsy kinds of best friends who hug all the time and give each other cheek kisses or whatever.
And they're also not anything beyond that. Definitely not. So what, they kissed yesterday -- Chuuya's lips tingle all too vividly from the flashes of memories rushing through her head -- but it was /practice/ for the real thing. For Tachihara.
And Chuuya's not into girls as far as she knows -- sure, she has thought about it sometimes. Girls are pretty, and she does prefer the company of them --or, well, /one/ girl -- over that of men 99,9% of the time, but there was never any of that /wow, I'm in love with her/ moment.
Not even a mild, curious crush.
Dazai once said she doesn't give a fuck about anyone's gender as long as they're a pretty sight to look at and not boring, though, and Chuuya's glad that she's so open about it, but it's just not how Chuuya feels, and —
Dazai once said she doesn't give a fuck about anyone's gender as long as they're a pretty sight to look at and not boring, though, and Chuuya's glad that she's so open about it, but it's just not how Chuuya feels, and —
And she's /so/ overthinking this.
The room spins like a floorless rollercoaster when her feet finally touch the carpet, but Chuuya pushes through the nausea that rises in her chest like she pushes through most unpleasant things in life: +
The room spins like a floorless rollercoaster when her feet finally touch the carpet, but Chuuya pushes through the nausea that rises in her chest like she pushes through most unpleasant things in life: +
with gritted teeth and sheer power of the mind — well, that, and the promise of a greasy, hearty breakfast.
The room looks like Dazai's personality exploded all over it. Clothes in ten different shades of black scattered all over the floor, a few empty bottles of liquor lying +
The room looks like Dazai's personality exploded all over it. Clothes in ten different shades of black scattered all over the floor, a few empty bottles of liquor lying +
around, tote bags, eyeliners and concealers -- some of them without the cap on and probably dry as hell, stacks of dirty plates and bowls on the table -- it's like the bermuda triangle except that everything that gets lost in there lands /here./
Chuuya steps on something +
Chuuya steps on something +
/twice/ on her way to the bathroom although the buzzing in her head is too loud to even curse about it.
After washing her face, she brushes her teeth, not for the first time thankful that she has a tooth brush here, to get that gross aftertaste of alcohol out of her mouth.
After washing her face, she brushes her teeth, not for the first time thankful that she has a tooth brush here, to get that gross aftertaste of alcohol out of her mouth.
It helps -- a little. She still wants to lie down and perish, but at least she does so with fresh, minty breath.
Wobbling down the stairs, she hears the fridge door opening and closing in the kitchen which means that Mori, Dazai's aunt and legal guardian, isn't at work yet.
Wobbling down the stairs, she hears the fridge door opening and closing in the kitchen which means that Mori, Dazai's aunt and legal guardian, isn't at work yet.
Not ideal considering the sorry state Chuuya's still in right now, but not the end of the world either -- and worlds better than if she was at home and let her own mother see her like this. That's probably the reason why Dazai made her sleep over instead of bringing her home.
"Ah, Chuuya-kun," Mori says when she spots Chuuya passing the threshold. "I wasn't aware that you stayed the night here."
"Yeah," Chuuya says, scratching at the back of her tangled hair as she takes a seat at the table, still trying to adjust to the light that's streaming +
"Yeah," Chuuya says, scratching at the back of her tangled hair as she takes a seat at the table, still trying to adjust to the light that's streaming +
through the windows above the sink. "It wasn't really planned either."
Lowering her cup of coffee, Mori smiles subtly. "So I take it the birthday was fun?"
"Eh, it was okay. I got a headache at the end and didn't feel like making the trip home." When it comes to parenting, +
Lowering her cup of coffee, Mori smiles subtly. "So I take it the birthday was fun?"
"Eh, it was okay. I got a headache at the end and didn't feel like making the trip home." When it comes to parenting, +
Mori is definitely way more lax but she still talks to Chuuya's mother now and then and if possible, Chuuya would like to keep her night adventures involving liquor and throwing up out of those conversations.
"Make sure to drink lots of water," Mori says, already handing her +
"Make sure to drink lots of water," Mori says, already handing her +
a glass that Chuuya accepts greedily. "We have ibuprofen in the bathroom cabinet upstairs."
"Already took one."
"Good." Mori finishes her coffee and places the cup in the sink. "Make sure Dazai eats something, will you? I'll be home late tonight."
"Ohhh, hot date?"
"Already took one."
"Good." Mori finishes her coffee and places the cup in the sink. "Make sure Dazai eats something, will you? I'll be home late tonight."
"Ohhh, hot date?"
"I have an interview."
Chuuya hums around her glass before setting it down. "Huh, I didn't know you were looking for something new."
"I wasn't, but when a hospital offers you the position as chief of medicine," Mori's mouth curves into a feline smirk, "you consider it."
Chuuya hums around her glass before setting it down. "Huh, I didn't know you were looking for something new."
"I wasn't, but when a hospital offers you the position as chief of medicine," Mori's mouth curves into a feline smirk, "you consider it."
Chuuya's eyes widen. "Chief of medicine? That's /huge./"
"It's the least they can offer me."
"Well, good luck even though I'm sure you don't need it."
"Thanks, Chuuya-kun." Mori grabs her bag, her keys, and gives Chuuya one last goodbye-smile. "Tell your mother I said hi."
"It's the least they can offer me."
"Well, good luck even though I'm sure you don't need it."
"Thanks, Chuuya-kun." Mori grabs her bag, her keys, and gives Chuuya one last goodbye-smile. "Tell your mother I said hi."
Chuuya relishes the silence in the house for a few moments before getting to her feet and scanning the fridge for edible food. Sometimes the lack of it in a household with a grown adult woman and an almost-grown up seven-teen year old is astounding but Mori basically spends +
the majority of her time at the hospital and Dazai thinks iced coffee is an appropriate breakfast, lunch and dinner option, so Chuuya has gotten used to it. The fridge doesn't offer much except eggs. That's fine, though. Chuuya can work with that.
Waiting for the stove to +
Waiting for the stove to +
heat up, her eyes fly over the dry-erase board hanging on the wall next to the sink -- which is basically the main communication between Dazai and her aunt. Aside from a few shopping lists and school reminders, there's a little note scribbled down: /Left you some money on the +
counter to buy groceries. (Don't order take out again!)/
Chuuya snorts dryly. That money will /not/ be used for groceries.
Her eggs are nearly ready when she hears the flush of the toilet coming from upstairs before a pair of feet descends down the stairs.
It's an ordinary+
Chuuya snorts dryly. That money will /not/ be used for groceries.
Her eggs are nearly ready when she hears the flush of the toilet coming from upstairs before a pair of feet descends down the stairs.
It's an ordinary+
morning routine between the two of them. Nothing is different. Chuuya has spent the night here thousands of times by now. And yet, when she turns around, she is /not/ ready for the sight of Dazai stretching her arms over her head in nothing but an oversized band-shirt and +
a black thong. That in itself isn't an unusual occurence either -- /laundry/: another thing that this household hasn't quite worked out. It's the way Chuuya's stomach bottoms out that's painfully strange.
"Man," Dazai groans out, shaking her head, "I need a nap."
"Man," Dazai groans out, shaking her head, "I need a nap."
Chuuya spins back to her fried eggs, manhandling the poor pan perhaps a bit too forcefully to cover the buzzing in her head and in her stomach and -- well, /everywhere./ "You just woke up."
"And I want to go back to that glorious state of unconsciousness. +
"And I want to go back to that glorious state of unconsciousness. +
How are /you/ doing, by the way?"
Chuuya pointedly ignores the quizzical stare coming from Dazai as she discovers the cup of coffee that's already waiting for her with a delighted hum. "I'm perfectly fine."
"Last-night-Chuuya begs to differ."
"I have no idea what you're +
Chuuya pointedly ignores the quizzical stare coming from Dazai as she discovers the cup of coffee that's already waiting for her with a delighted hum. "I'm perfectly fine."
"Last-night-Chuuya begs to differ."
"I have no idea what you're +
talking about."
"/Dazai, I'm so drunk and sick please hug me until I feel better!/"
Chuuya feels herself stiffen.
"/Dazai --/"
"Okay, I get it! And I don't talk like that!"
"You do," Dazai says after taking a sip of her coffee. "When you're sloshed, you do."
"/Dazai, I'm so drunk and sick please hug me until I feel better!/"
Chuuya feels herself stiffen.
"/Dazai --/"
"Okay, I get it! And I don't talk like that!"
"You do," Dazai says after taking a sip of her coffee. "When you're sloshed, you do."
Chuuya rolls her eyes as she lets the eggs slide on two different plates. "Whatever. I made you food so now you have to shut up about it."
"You haven't even seen the bathroom mirror selfies."
"The what?"
"After you threw up." Shrugging, Dazai steals a plate, but instead of+
"You haven't even seen the bathroom mirror selfies."
"The what?"
"After you threw up." Shrugging, Dazai steals a plate, but instead of+
sitting down at the table, she steers towards the backyard. "Your mascara was smeared, and you looked like that girl from the TV show you used to watch. What was her name? Lexus?"
"Lexa," Chuuya corrects with a frown.
"Yeah, that one. You kept saying that you now look /and/ +
"Lexa," Chuuya corrects with a frown.
"Yeah, that one. You kept saying that you now look /and/ +
feel like her, and then you insisted we take selfies. I'll send them to you."
"No, thanks," Chuuya grumbles, sitting down. "I was just drunk." And after hearing all this, she makes a silent promise to herself to /never/ drink again because not only is this embarrassing, but +
"No, thanks," Chuuya grumbles, sitting down. "I was just drunk." And after hearing all this, she makes a silent promise to herself to /never/ drink again because not only is this embarrassing, but +
/not/ true. Chuuya does not feel... like that. Lexa was a lesbian character -- killed off in an extremely stupid way, at that -- and Chuuya is pretty sure she would have known by now if she was gay, too.
She was drunk and out of it. That's it.
With an innocent hum, Dazai +
She was drunk and out of it. That's it.
With an innocent hum, Dazai +
grabs her pack of cigarettes and slides two out. "Whatever you say, Chuuya ~." Then she offers her one.
Chuuya will have to take a thorough shower anyway before going home, so she accepts it and pretends that the roaring heartbeat in her ears is normal when Dazai leans closer +
Chuuya will have to take a thorough shower anyway before going home, so she accepts it and pretends that the roaring heartbeat in her ears is normal when Dazai leans closer +
to light her cigarette.
For a few minutes, a peaceful silence stretches between, but of course, nothing good ever lasts, especially not with someone like Dazai. "So," she says, fingers dancing across her coffee mug, "how was Tachihara?"
For a few minutes, a peaceful silence stretches between, but of course, nothing good ever lasts, especially not with someone like Dazai. "So," she says, fingers dancing across her coffee mug, "how was Tachihara?"
Chuuya deliberately focuses on the eggs in front of her. "Good."
"Good?" Dazai echoes. "That's it? All that drama and effort only for Chuuya to say /good/?"
"What do you want to hear? A grade?!"
"I mean, yeah." Chuuya rolls her eyes. "Good is disappointing. +
"Good?" Dazai echoes. "That's it? All that drama and effort only for Chuuya to say /good/?"
"What do you want to hear? A grade?!"
"I mean, yeah." Chuuya rolls her eyes. "Good is disappointing. +
Considering for how long he's been mooning over you, I would have thought he'd put more effort into it once you finally gave him the chance."
"I was drunk," Chuuya mutters, stabbing her food with a fork. "I barely remember anything from last night."
"The entire night?" +
"I was drunk," Chuuya mutters, stabbing her food with a fork. "I barely remember anything from last night."
"The entire night?" +
When Chuuya's eyes flicker to her like a moth drawn to flame, Dazai's head is tilted curiously. "Or, just the Tachihara part of the night?"
"Does it matter? It was embarrassing. All of it."
Dazai's mouth curves into a strange, awful smile as she nods slowly.
"Does it matter? It was embarrassing. All of it."
Dazai's mouth curves into a strange, awful smile as she nods slowly.
"Can I use your shower?" Driving her fingers through the mess of hair on her head, Chuuya makes a face. She both needs conditioner and this conversation to finally end. "Or my mom will collapse if she goes anywhere near me."
Dazai shrugs. "My answer never stopped you before."
Dazai shrugs. "My answer never stopped you before."
And well, Chuuya can't argue against that.
Living next-door to your best friend has many perks including taking a shower at their house when yours is occupied, or when the bathroom is being repainted for the 7th time because your mother needs /a visual change/, or when +
Living next-door to your best friend has many perks including taking a shower at their house when yours is occupied, or when the bathroom is being repainted for the 7th time because your mother needs /a visual change/, or when +
you're having a fight with said mother and camp out at the house next door for a week because you refuse to accept the half-assed apology.
Yeah, living a few dozen feet away from Dazai has its perks.
(Although soon Chuuya will realize that it comes with a few cons as well.)
Yeah, living a few dozen feet away from Dazai has its perks.
(Although soon Chuuya will realize that it comes with a few cons as well.)
After showering and blow-drying her hair into something decent enough to tie into a ponytail, Chuuya doesn't linger for much longer. Judging by the way Dazai, listlessly scrolling through her phone in the backyard, doesn't even bother to look up at her when she leaves, it's not +
Walking over to her house, Chuuya sends out a silent prayer, hoping that her mother is out doing groceries or visiting a friend so she can sneak in without much ado, but /nope./ The car is in the driveway.
/Great./
"I'm home," she calls out after closing the door behind her.
/Great./
"I'm home," she calls out after closing the door behind her.
"Finally," comes her mom's voice from upstairs. "Where have you been?"
"At Dazai's. I texted you." Chuuya's pretty sure it was Dazai who sent that text since there were no typos in it, but that's better left unsaid.
Her mother comes waltzing down the stairs in her bathrobe. +
"At Dazai's. I texted you." Chuuya's pretty sure it was Dazai who sent that text since there were no typos in it, but that's better left unsaid.
Her mother comes waltzing down the stairs in her bathrobe. +
"Honey, you look /awful./" She touches Chuuya's cheek with a scrutinizing frown. "I told you a thousand times that drinking will only make you gain weight and make you unhappy. Just like it did with your father."
Last Chuuya heard, her father is doing /perfectly fine./
Last Chuuya heard, her father is doing /perfectly fine./
"I always look like that when I wake up, mother," Chuuya says, slipping out of her grip and heading towards the stairs. "I'm going to take a nap."
"Make sure to put some lotion on your poor skin before you do. And use my face roller. It will help with the puffiness."
"Make sure to put some lotion on your poor skin before you do. And use my face roller. It will help with the puffiness."
It takes a mountain of effort not to slam her door. This morning is already bad enough without having to listen to her mother's unwanted criticism about things that don't even matter.
Chuuya all but flops down on her bed, exhaustion, annoyance and confusion draping over her +
Chuuya all but flops down on her bed, exhaustion, annoyance and confusion draping over her +
like a wet blanket that drags her down but doesn't let her fall asleep either. Every time, she closes her eyes, flashbacks of last night dart through her brain, and not the Tachihara part, as Dazai so kindly put it, but the one before that.
The Dazai part.
The Dazai part.
Chuuya lets out a low groan and presses one of her pillows against her face, hoping that will do the trick.
Nope.
More memories -- ones that she even had no recollection of this morning.
/Sitting on the sink, warm hands roaming her skin, the buzz of her lips when D--/
Nope.
More memories -- ones that she even had no recollection of this morning.
/Sitting on the sink, warm hands roaming her skin, the buzz of her lips when D--/
Chuuya grabs her phone from where it's charging on the floor and finally opens the text on LINE that she has succesfully blended out until now.
[Tachihara]: Heyo I had fun :D
[Tachihara]: I hope u and ur friend arrived home safe and sound
As far as she's concerned, these +
[Tachihara]: Heyo I had fun :D
[Tachihara]: I hope u and ur friend arrived home safe and sound
As far as she's concerned, these +
messages don't really require a reply. What is she supposed to say? /Thanks, I'm fine, can't say the same about the fun part, though/? No, that'd be rude, and although she knows that she doesn't owe him any more kindness that goes beyond human decency, Tachihara is actually one +
of the good ones. A little goofy? Mmm. Somewhat of a hypermasculine macho in front of his friends? Probably. Kind of pathetic for taking five months to ask Chuuya out? Yeah. But still good.
So what she does instead is simply answer one question while ignoring the other one.
So what she does instead is simply answer one question while ignoring the other one.
[Chuuya]: safe and sound and definitely feeling better than yesterday :)
She tosses the phone to the side, hoping that with this out of the way her head will finally shut up and let her sleep.
It doesn't; not really, but for now she will pretend it does.
***
She tosses the phone to the side, hoping that with this out of the way her head will finally shut up and let her sleep.
It doesn't; not really, but for now she will pretend it does.
***
Chuuya used to think that morning people naturally liked the physical pain of getting up at the ass crack of dawn with a smile on their face and a well of bursting energy inside them -- that is, until she, one day, decided to become one of them.
Now she knows that one can get +
Now she knows that one can get +
up early in the morning and still hate the actual act of /waking up/, which is why every day she gives herself exactly /three minutes/ to mope and bitch about how much she'd rather continue sleeping, but once the time's up? It's time to get shit done.
Needless to say, +
Needless to say, +
it's mostly Dazai's fault that Chuuya forces herself to go through this because getting dressed, doing her make-up, stylyng her hair, getting a few squats in here and there, preparing one slightly oversized bento that she will end up sharing is the easy part. The real work +
begins when she steps out of her house and runs next-door to wake up the sleeping monster starfishing her entire queen-sized bed.
Dazai's a raging insomniac which also means that she can get /mean/ when it comes to being robbed of sleep. Thankfully, Chuuya has mastered the +
Dazai's a raging insomniac which also means that she can get /mean/ when it comes to being robbed of sleep. Thankfully, Chuuya has mastered the +
art of taming the feral, sleep-deprived cat that's currently hugging an oversized potato pillow to her chest.
"Rise and shine, gorgeous," she says, throwing open the dark-velvet curtains. "Are you ready to start the day?"
Dazai lets out a muffled groan. +
"Rise and shine, gorgeous," she says, throwing open the dark-velvet curtains. "Are you ready to start the day?"
Dazai lets out a muffled groan. +
"'s literally just four in the morning."
"That's a lie. You're a liar. And I will not just wait." Walking over to the bed, Chuuya nudges a steaming cup of coffee against her best friend's cheek which, at last, makes Dazai sit up even when she does with a nasty glare. +
"That's a lie. You're a liar. And I will not just wait." Walking over to the bed, Chuuya nudges a steaming cup of coffee against her best friend's cheek which, at last, makes Dazai sit up even when she does with a nasty glare. +
Her hands reaching for the cup vaguely remind Chuuya of the Gollum and his precious ring, and it makes her bite her cheek to stop herself from bursting out into laughter — something that would only earn her even more scorn. “C’mon, up you go. +
We only have twenty-seven minutes left until first period starts.”
“I have a better idea,” Dazai mutters and stretches her arms over her head, loud and graceless, before flopping back down on the bed. “Why don’t we just skip the whole day and take three naps instead?”
“I have a better idea,” Dazai mutters and stretches her arms over her head, loud and graceless, before flopping back down on the bed. “Why don’t we just skip the whole day and take three naps instead?”
“I did not spend half an hour on my face to get sleep lines and smudged mascara on it.”
“Fine, I’ll do the — adadada —” Dazai’s eyes go wide like saucers when Chuuya attempts to take away her cup -- something that finally makes her slip out of bed, though.
“Fine, I’ll do the — adadada —” Dazai’s eyes go wide like saucers when Chuuya attempts to take away her cup -- something that finally makes her slip out of bed, though.
“You’re a cruel person, Nakahara Chuuya.”
“I am amazing,” Chuuya says and watches her best friend waddle to the bathroom. “And you know it.”
The door gets shut with a loud bang.
/She is amazing./
/Totally amazing./
“I am amazing,” Chuuya says and watches her best friend waddle to the bathroom. “And you know it.”
The door gets shut with a loud bang.
/She is amazing./
/Totally amazing./
When Dazai comes back, Chuuya helps her with the bandaging process — it’s way faster doing this together, saving Dazai lots of time and flabby, wrinkled parts.
They’ve done this so many times by now — Dazai peacefully stretching out one long runway-leg, Chuuya on her knees and a focused frown between her brows as she coils the white gauze around pale, scarred skin — that it should be as normal as brushing teeth.
Yet, Chuuya finds the silence that has fallen around them thick and strained with something invisible. She even catches her fingers shaking slightly at one point. Maybe she didn’t eat enough. That makes more damn sense than any other explanation.
Back on her feet, Chuuya brushes off her skirt and checks her phone while Dazai goes on to put some clothes, sniffing at a shirt before tossing it into a corner of her room.
There is a text from Tachihara on LINE that she pretends not to see right now — her reply yesterday led to a conversation that’s /nice/ but also incredibly /stiff/, and another few messages in the group chat with her friends, some discussion about going to the lake next weekend +
because the weather is supposed to be good.
When she looks up, Dazai’s finally dressed, now standing in front of her gigantic, sparkling mirror and lazily doing her eyeliner like she has all the time in the world.
“Oi, /Dazai/,” Chuuya snaps, feeling impatient.
When she looks up, Dazai’s finally dressed, now standing in front of her gigantic, sparkling mirror and lazily doing her eyeliner like she has all the time in the world.
“Oi, /Dazai/,” Chuuya snaps, feeling impatient.
Dazai, on the other hand, doesn’t bother to look at her. “Relax. We still have some time left.”
“Yeah, like /ten minutes/, and that’s how long it takes us to /walk/ to school.”
“Nothing happens in the first few minutes anyway.”
“And I don’t want Kunikida in my face.” +
“Yeah, like /ten minutes/, and that’s how long it takes us to /walk/ to school.”
“Nothing happens in the first few minutes anyway.”
“And I don’t want Kunikida in my face.” +
Chuuya feels herself growing irritated just thinking about it. “Next time he tries to tell me my heels are violating the dress code, I’ll snap his neck and step on it so he'll never say another word again.”
“I think it’s cute.”
Chuuya’s chin jerks up. “What? /Me?/”
“I think it’s cute.”
Chuuya’s chin jerks up. “What? /Me?/”
Dazai’s eyes crinkle with amusement as she, at last, turns around and lays her kohl liner aside. “No, Kunikida.” Grabbing her school bag that’s so suspiciously empty that Chuuya suspects half of her books are missing, Dazai offers her a brilliant, sunny grin. +
“You’re cute too, though.”
Chuuya ignores the blazing heat on her cheeks as she stomps down the stairs after her best friend, choosing to focus on the Kunikida comment instead. “I can’t believe you’d find someone like that /cute./ +
Chuuya ignores the blazing heat on her cheeks as she stomps down the stairs after her best friend, choosing to focus on the Kunikida comment instead. “I can’t believe you’d find someone like that /cute./ +
Isn’t he bugging you about anything and everything twenty-four-seven?”
“Oh, that’s because he likes me,” Dazai casually provides when she closes the door of the house behind her.
“Hah?”
“The universal love language is and always will be /banter./ +
“Oh, that’s because he likes me,” Dazai casually provides when she closes the door of the house behind her.
“Hah?”
“The universal love language is and always will be /banter./ +
It’s fun and easy and not as boring as being nice."
“That’s bullshit,” Chuuya says. “I banter with a lot of people, and not /once/ was it because I /like/ them.”
“You threaten to cut off people’s toes, Chuuya darling. That’s not banter. +
“That’s bullshit,” Chuuya says. “I banter with a lot of people, and not /once/ was it because I /like/ them.”
“You threaten to cut off people’s toes, Chuuya darling. That’s not banter. +
That’s verbal violence.” She holds up her finger before Chuuya can open her mouth to reply. “Not that it stops anyone. Half of our year fears you but is also attracted to you."
“If that keeps them away from me,” Chuuya mutters, raising her head, “good.”
Dazai nods and hums innocently. “Right. Chuuya is taken now.”
“What?” Chuuya scoffs. “No, I'm not.”
“So Tachihara hasn’t asked you out?”
Dazai nods and hums innocently. “Right. Chuuya is taken now.”
“What?” Chuuya scoffs. “No, I'm not.”
“So Tachihara hasn’t asked you out?”
“/No./"
“But if he does, you’re going to say….?”
“I don’t know. I’ll burn that bridge when I get there.”
“My, the odds don’t seem to be in Tachihara’s favor.” Chuuya feels Dazai’s gaze slide to her. “Any particular reason?”
“But if he does, you’re going to say….?”
“I don’t know. I’ll burn that bridge when I get there.”
“My, the odds don’t seem to be in Tachihara’s favor.” Chuuya feels Dazai’s gaze slide to her. “Any particular reason?”
That airy tone rubs Chuuya the wrong way, and her fingers tighten around her bag as she breathes out through her nose. “I didn’t say that it’s not looking good. I didn’t say /anything./ +
I’m simply not head-over-heels in love with someone after one damn night and therefore rightfully uncertain about anything further than that. Is that so wrong?!”
“No --”
“Then can we drop it?”
Dazai holds up her hands, and Chuuya lets out a frustrated sigh, rubbing her temple.
“No --”
“Then can we drop it?”
Dazai holds up her hands, and Chuuya lets out a frustrated sigh, rubbing her temple.
She’s not sure why the topic of Tachihara gets her so worked up every time. Back when Dazai used to make out with five people on the same night — it’s been a while since that happened, Chuuya realizes in hindsight — +
she wasn’t particularly shy about sharing information either.
After all, they’ve been best friends for ages now.
After all, they’ve been best friends for ages now.
A little chit-chat about guys and relationships are hardly the pinnacle of intimacy, but — but Chuuya doesn’t want to spend the rest of her high school career talking about this just because it took her a little longer to have her first kiss. /Big fucking deal./
She’s over it and ready to focus on more important things.
The rest of the walk to school is filled with mindless chatter about the way the clouds above them look like a giant hot dog, and the sports festival next week that Dazai intends to sit out once again.
The rest of the walk to school is filled with mindless chatter about the way the clouds above them look like a giant hot dog, and the sports festival next week that Dazai intends to sit out once again.
Chuuya’s not the biggest fan of academics, finding it hard to sit still and listen for several hours straight—not that it stops her from striving to be the top of the class and year anyway—but today, she’s glad for the distraction it provides. No confusing outbursts of emotions.
No worries. Just two back-to-back classes of mathematics and Japanese.
Of course, that only lasts so long.
The moment the school bell announces lunch, Chuuya’s friends crowd around her like hungry vultures looking for food.
Of course, that only lasts so long.
The moment the school bell announces lunch, Chuuya’s friends crowd around her like hungry vultures looking for food.
Of course, it’s her own fault for getting so drunk that she ended up making out in front of half of her class that was invited to the party, but it still makes electric tension flood her system.
“So,” Yuan waggles her brows, “are you, like, dating now?”
“So,” Yuan waggles her brows, “are you, like, dating now?”
“Was it good?” Shirase wants to know.
“I’m glad Dazai-san took care of you,” Atsushi is the only one to say -- god bless her. “I was a little worried that you’d end up tripping and breaking something.”
“I’m glad Dazai-san took care of you,” Atsushi is the only one to say -- god bless her. “I was a little worried that you’d end up tripping and breaking something.”
“I’m fine,” Chuuya says, tossing her textbooks into her bag, “and you are all in my way. Christ, at least, let me get some fresh air before starting the interrogation.”
“Yeah, yeah, try to act like you’re above it now,” Yuan teases as they make their way out of the classroom. “You were pretty loud about it a few nights ago.”
Chuuya swallows but doesn’t stop walking. “I was?”
“Yup, even gave us a live demonstration.”
Chuuya swallows but doesn’t stop walking. “I was?”
“Yup, even gave us a live demonstration.”
The smile that she presses out slices through her skin like paper.
“But really, did he ask you out? Because he seemed to be into you."
“No,” Chuuya says. “He was probably just as drunk as me anyway.”
“But really, did he ask you out? Because he seemed to be into you."
“No,” Chuuya says. “He was probably just as drunk as me anyway.”
“Or, he’s waiting to ask you when you’re sober,” Atsushi suggests when they arrive at the rooftop of the school.
Shirase elbows Chuuya. “You mean like right now?”
Shirase elbows Chuuya. “You mean like right now?”
Because there is Tachihara, talking to some of his classmates with his hands shoved into his pockets, but he turns his head ever so slightly and looks directly at Chuuya.
There is also Dazai, half-hanging over the handrail with her eyes peacefully closed.
There is also Dazai, half-hanging over the handrail with her eyes peacefully closed.
Chuuya knows where she wants to go, but her friends are already dispersing in different directions, Tachihara is already walking towards her with a small, dopey smile, and +
there really is nothing to do except go through this stupid conversation.
There are no butterflies in her stomach, no tingling in her chest or any spark of joy whatsoever at the prospect of being asked out, getting a boyfriend, and doing all the things that are expected of her—only this bone-deep feeling of wanting to be somewhere else right now.
“Hi,” she says first to get over with it faster.
“Hey Chuuya.” Tachihara nods at her awkwardly. “You look, uh, pretty today. And I’m glad that you feel better! Sorry that I didn’t accompany you home back then. I looked away for a moment, and /boom/ -- you were gone.”
“Hey Chuuya.” Tachihara nods at her awkwardly. “You look, uh, pretty today. And I’m glad that you feel better! Sorry that I didn’t accompany you home back then. I looked away for a moment, and /boom/ -- you were gone.”
That’s a lot of… words.
“It’s fine. Dazai made sure I drank my water and swallowed my pain killers.”
“That’s so nice of her. Tell her thanks.”
“It’s fine. Dazai made sure I drank my water and swallowed my pain killers.”
“That’s so nice of her. Tell her thanks.”
At the mention of her, Chuuya can’t help but glance in Dazai’s direction, not exactly surprised but still annoyed to find the damn busybody already watching the scene with cool amusement. “Anyways, I was wondering whether you, uh, want to grab a bite of food with me someday? +
In a cool place? Like… a date?”
Chuuya wanted to let him down as painlessly and uncomplicated as possible, but — but maybe she’s being hasty? +
Chuuya wanted to let him down as painlessly and uncomplicated as possible, but — but maybe she’s being hasty? +
Maybe it’s all the books and mangas and movies out there that are wrong because maybe falling in love doesn’t happen all at once but slowly, over time, as you get to know someone.
Chuuya has only ever talked to Tachihara in school and now at that dumb party that she barely remembers anyway, so of course, she doesn’t have feelings for him. The idea of falling for someone she barely knows is ridiculous.
So...
“A date,”Chuuya repeats and clicks her tongue.
So...
“A date,”Chuuya repeats and clicks her tongue.
“Sure. That sounds good. When?”
Tachihara’s eyes widen as if he expected a completely different answer. She can’t really blame him. “What about next weekend? On Friday?”
“Perfect. Should I pick the place —”
Tachihara’s eyes widen as if he expected a completely different answer. She can’t really blame him. “What about next weekend? On Friday?”
“Perfect. Should I pick the place —”
“I already have one,” Tachihara blurts out before scratching the back of his neck. “I might have been planning to ask you out for a while now.”
Chuuya offers him a smile. “Okay. Cool. Text me the details.”
“Sure!"
Chuuya offers him a smile. “Okay. Cool. Text me the details.”
“Sure!"
She’s pretty sure that Tachihara almost goes in for a hug at the end, but she is faster and already walking away, trying not to feel bad about it.
Her friends have settled not far away from Dazai — who insists that all of Chuuya’s friends are annoying as hell but still tolerates them when it’s necessary — but whatever discussion they have going on immediately evaporates into a bubbling silence as soon as Chuuya +
approaches.
Leaning against the railing, she starts unpacking her lunch. “We have a date next weekend, so I'd prefer if you guys stop staring at me like some damn zoo animal.”
Leaning against the railing, she starts unpacking her lunch. “We have a date next weekend, so I'd prefer if you guys stop staring at me like some damn zoo animal.”
It takes a few dozen more questions and remarks about /where/, and /when/, and /what are you going to wear/ before Chuuya can finally escape from their claws to wordlessly offer her bento to Dazai, who has been suspiciously quiet all this time.
Dazai accepts the box with a graceless smirk that flits over her mouth. “Looks like you sprinted over the bridge instead of burning it, Chuuya ~.”
Taking a sip of her orange juice, Chuuya shrugs. “The other side wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”
Taking a sip of her orange juice, Chuuya shrugs. “The other side wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”
The sun is loud and bright in the sky, and she lets her eyes fall closed for a few moments, feeling it warm her skin, hoping that it will warm the cold, hollow part inside her as well. “I figured I could at least give him a chance. See how it works out.”
“Well,” Dazai shoves a piece of crab — only there because Chuuya knew she’d end up sharing — into her mouth and softly kicks out her left leg. “I’m sure you will make delightful red-headed babies.”
Chuuya stops slurping to shoot her an offended scowl. +
Chuuya stops slurping to shoot her an offended scowl. +
“No damn baby is ever going to grow in /this/ uterus.” Not only does the entire pregnancy process terrify her, but motherhood doesn’t fit into any of her future plans for herself either.
There is no space for a screaming baby when she will be busy taking over the world and sipping margaritas at the beach — unless she lets some poor nanny raise the kid, but why bother getting a kid at all in that case?
“Ugh,” Dazai agrees with a visible shudder. “Thank god. +
“Ugh,” Dazai agrees with a visible shudder. “Thank god. +
I’d make a terrible mother.”
Chuuya blinks, a little puzzled. “/You?/”
Dazai nods like it’s self-explanatory. “Tachihara and you wouldn’t last long because red-heads are simply not meant to be together. /Duh./” Chuuya almost lets out a snort at that. +
Chuuya blinks, a little puzzled. “/You?/”
Dazai nods like it’s self-explanatory. “Tachihara and you wouldn’t last long because red-heads are simply not meant to be together. /Duh./” Chuuya almost lets out a snort at that. +
"And once you go through a long, tiresome divorce because Tachihara wants in on all the bank you make, you’ll marry /me./” Her shoulder bumps into Chuuya. “So please, no kids, although I do think we would make great aunts. +
You’d be the wine aunt, and I’d be the vodka one. Oh! Does Kouyou want kids?”
The last question almost escapes Chuuya since she’s too busy letting Dazai’s words echo through her head over and over. /You’ll marry me./
The last question almost escapes Chuuya since she’s too busy letting Dazai’s words echo through her head over and over. /You’ll marry me./
She knows it’s a joke — Dazai has been serious about something, perhaps, four times in her entire life — but now this alternate universe she just made up is out there, and Chuuya finds herself caught up in it. “Don’t be stupid,” she ends up murmuring.
“Hmh?” Dazai’s hand pauses with the chopstick inches from her face, eyes large and dreamy. “Weird. I was under the impression Kouyou’s been having baby fever for years now.”
“Not /that./ I meant, all the talk about us getting married.”
“You don’t want to marry me? +
“Not /that./ I meant, all the talk about us getting married.”
“You don’t want to marry me? +
I’m wounded.”
Huffing out a tense breath, Chuuya looks away. “Maybe in a dream universe of yours.”
“Personally, I like the idea of star-crossed lovers. +
Huffing out a tense breath, Chuuya looks away. “Maybe in a dream universe of yours.”
“Personally, I like the idea of star-crossed lovers. +
Me, waiting for you in every universe… you, being busy a man-hating criminal and running the mafia or something cool like that. But once you realize your true feelings, it’s already too late.”
Dazai flaps her arms dramatically before leaning her entire damn weight against Chuuya’s side and letting out a theatrical sigh. “You know, just like when we were kids.”
“Get off me, you damn mackerel,” Chuuya groans and pushes her away, perhaps with a little more vigor than necessary. “I’d have to truly hate myself to love someone as annoying as you.”
Dazai lets out a soft laugh and lowers the bento box to return it to Chuuya, most of it uneaten. “That’s probably the smartest thing Chuuya has ever said in her entire life.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come up with something new.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come up with something new.”
"Nah." Dazai rests her elbows against the hand railing and turns her head back to the sky. “Don’t want to.”
***
***
“So,” Kouyou asks, placing her phone on something that must be a shelf before rolling back on the chair and dribbling some foundation on her skin, “how are you doing?”
“Fine.” Chuuya’s lying on her bed as they face-time, chin resting on one hand. +
“Fine.” Chuuya’s lying on her bed as they face-time, chin resting on one hand. +
“Everything’s fine.”
Kouyou pauses for a moment to raise a brow into the camera. “That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. Is it mother? Is she bothering you about the university thing again?”
Kouyou pauses for a moment to raise a brow into the camera. “That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. Is it mother? Is she bothering you about the university thing again?”
“No, she’s been quiet about it ever since I threatened to pull a /you/ and never visit again once I’m gone.”
“Oh, that’s a good one.”
“Mmm.”
“So everything is good over there? You don’t need me to come?”
Chuuya shrugs listlessly. +
“Oh, that’s a good one.”
“Mmm.”
“So everything is good over there? You don’t need me to come?”
Chuuya shrugs listlessly. +
“Finals are in a few weeks, and my head is swimming with numbers and facts. That’s it.”
“Okay,” Kouyou says, still not sounding convinced. “If you don’t have any news, then I guess I have some.”
“Okay,” Kouyou says, still not sounding convinced. “If you don’t have any news, then I guess I have some.”
A few seconds pass as she finishes blending in the foundation, then she glances at the camera. “I met someone.”
Chuuya raises herself up to a sitting position, mouth curving into a curious grin. “Really? Who? Tell me everything.”
“Well, his name is Yosano. +
Chuuya raises herself up to a sitting position, mouth curving into a curious grin. “Really? Who? Tell me everything.”
“Well, his name is Yosano. +
He’s been nude modeling for me.”
A laugh bursts out of Chuuya. “Of course, /that’s/ how you met.”
“It’s not just because of that — although he is built… exquisitely. He’s insanely smart, and he asked me out. We’re going to a highlighter event tomorrow. +
A laugh bursts out of Chuuya. “Of course, /that’s/ how you met.”
“It’s not just because of that — although he is built… exquisitely. He’s insanely smart, and he asked me out. We’re going to a highlighter event tomorrow. +
It’s still casual, though.” She raises a threatening brow “Do not tell mother.”
“I wouldn’t dare to,” Chuuya murmurs with a lingering smile. “I… actually am going on a date too this weekend.”
“I wouldn’t dare to,” Chuuya murmurs with a lingering smile. “I… actually am going on a date too this weekend.”
Telling her sister about Tachihara was not on her to-do list for today — or any day, really — in case it remains just a date. It’s also one of the reasons why she hasn’t told her mother and doesn’t plan to either. But since they’re on the topic of sharing things, why not?
Maybe Kouyou knows a thing or two about /feelings/.
Her sister stills on the other end of the camera, though her expression screams /excited./ “Oh? Who are they?”
“Tachihara,” Chuuya says. “A guy from my year.”
Her sister stills on the other end of the camera, though her expression screams /excited./ “Oh? Who are they?”
“Tachihara,” Chuuya says. “A guy from my year.”
For some reason, it makes her sister look -- not exactly /disappointed/ but like she expected to hear something else. Chuuya feels herself frowning, but she pushes on. “We’re going to a restaurant, I think.”
“That’s great, Chuuya-chan. +
“That’s great, Chuuya-chan. +
Are you excited?”
“I… guess?”
“You guess?”
“I think I’ve sworn off dating and guys for so long that now it just feels weird doing it. He’s nice, and all, and I like him, but…” She trails off, shaking her head. “I’m not sure whether there is more than that.”
“I… guess?”
“You guess?”
“I think I’ve sworn off dating and guys for so long that now it just feels weird doing it. He’s nice, and all, and I like him, but…” She trails off, shaking her head. “I’m not sure whether there is more than that.”
“You realize that you don’t have to go out with him just because he asked, right?”
“Obviously, Ane-san. What year do you think I live in? The nineties?”
“I’m just saying. You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it. Did you tell mother?”
“Nope.”
“Obviously, Ane-san. What year do you think I live in? The nineties?”
“I’m just saying. You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it. Did you tell mother?”
“Nope.”
Kouyou hums and opens the lid of her powder. “Let him treat you to a nice, fancy dinner, and if you would like to go out again with him, then do it, but if not, then don’t.”
“That was the plan,” Chuuya says with a small huff of laughter.
“That was the plan,” Chuuya says with a small huff of laughter.
“How’s Dazai?” Kouyou suddenly asks.
“Good. Why?”
Kouyou’s gaze is downright insulting. “Because she is your best friend and basically your other half?”
“Dazai is doing fine,” Chuuya tells her, rolling her eyes, “and she is not my other half.”
“Good. Why?”
Kouyou’s gaze is downright insulting. “Because she is your best friend and basically your other half?”
“Dazai is doing fine,” Chuuya tells her, rolling her eyes, “and she is not my other half.”
“You know, when you were younger, you always insisted that you two were married. Mother had a mental breakdown every time.”
“I was /seven./”
“It was /cute/,” Kouyou says airily, “even if I despised her for constantly stealing my little sister back then.”
“You did?”
“I was /seven./”
“It was /cute/,” Kouyou says airily, “even if I despised her for constantly stealing my little sister back then.”
“You did?”
There is a small sigh on the other end. “It was a childish grudge, in hindsight, but you spent most of your time next door, and you know how much mother can be. We’ve always had our problems even before I came out to her and left for college.”
Obviously, Chuuya was always semi-aware that Kouyou’s relationship with their mother was always a little strained — pretty much everyone’s relationship in the family with their mother is — but it’s been, sort of, overshadowed by everything that happened a few years ago.
Kouyou came out as trans. Kouyou chose to study fine arts instead of going for the international business major that her mother has been trying to push onto her. Kouyou sided with their father in the divorce.
And well, mother didn’t like any of it.
And well, mother didn’t like any of it.
What Chuuya didn’t really ever think about, especially when she was busy spending all her free time with Dazai, was that her sister was alone at that time. Now that Chuuya is in the same position, utterly on her own in this damn house, she knows how suffocating it is.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I was a shit sister.”
Kouyou scoffs. “You were a child. It’s okay. I’m just glad that you still have Dazai.”
“Yeah,” Chuuya says, letting out a sigh. “Me too.”
Kouyou scoffs. “You were a child. It’s okay. I’m just glad that you still have Dazai.”
“Yeah,” Chuuya says, letting out a sigh. “Me too.”
Chuuya starts questioning how true that is in the days leading up to the weekend. Dazai has her times that leave her quiet and still, where she disappears to god knows where without letting anyone know, but usually, Chuuya is the exception to that rule.
Or, so she /thought/ because Dazai skips two days in a row, the house is all but empty, no one to find there, and the texts that Chuuya sends her go unanswered. It’s not /that/ uncommon, and yet Chuuya finds herself almost dialing the police three times.
The only reason that she doesn’t is that she sees Mori’s car roll into the driveway while she’s doing the dishes in the kitchen.
If Dazai isn’t in that damn car -- !
“Where are you going?” her mother asks as Chuuya stalks past her on the way out.
If Dazai isn’t in that damn car -- !
“Where are you going?” her mother asks as Chuuya stalks past her on the way out.
“And why are you running?”
“I’ll be back in five minutes!”
Dazai /isn’t/ in the car. The only person that climbs out is Mori, wearing a blazer and black slacks.
“I’ll be back in five minutes!”
Dazai /isn’t/ in the car. The only person that climbs out is Mori, wearing a blazer and black slacks.
She's busy typing something on her phone so that she only notices Chuuya when she’s right in front of her, slightly out of breath. “Chuuya-kun. Is something wrong?”
“No, no, everything’s fine.” Chuuya wills her lungs to calm down as she pulls back her shoulders. +
“No, no, everything’s fine.” Chuuya wills her lungs to calm down as she pulls back her shoulders. +
“I just wanted to ask if you’ve seen Dazai. I can’t get a hold of her.”
Shutting the door of her sleek-black SUV, Mori tilts her head. “I saw her this morning before school. She was not there?”
Shutting the door of her sleek-black SUV, Mori tilts her head. “I saw her this morning before school. She was not there?”
“No, she was,” Chuuya lies because even though Mori’s parenting style allows for many liberties, the only thing that she is stern about is education, and the only reason Dazai gets away for constantly napping and skipping classes is that her grades are impeccable, being +
the freakish genius that she is. At least, when she wants to be. “She /was/ in class. I just can’t get a hold of her /right now/, and I thought we had plans.”
“Oh, well.” Mori opens the door, and before she enters, she shoots Chuuya a small smile. +
“Oh, well.” Mori opens the door, and before she enters, she shoots Chuuya a small smile. +
“I’m sure she simply needs some time to think after the last few days. You know, how she gets.”
Chuuya’s too hung up on the fact that Dazai isn’t here to even properly listen, only nodding and telling Mori a quick ‘goodbye’ before she walks back to her house, barely avoiding the urge to slam the door behind her out of frustration.
***
***
Two and a half days are not the end of the world, but in a symbiotic friendship like theirs, it might as well have been two damn months, which is why when Chuuya finally sees that stupid tall girl with her stupid wrinkled uniform +
closing her locker, she stomps over there with the rage of a thousand blazing suns spurting her on.
What doesn’t help is the fact that Dostoevsky is next to Dazai, talking to her — or /was/, +
What doesn’t help is the fact that Dostoevsky is next to Dazai, talking to her — or /was/, +
since the girl only acknowledges Chuuya with a cool flicker of a resting bitch face before brushing past her and leaving the two of them alone and reunited, at last.
“Where were you?” Chuuya asks. +
“Where were you?” Chuuya asks. +
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for two damn days.”
Dazai props her shoulder against the locker and strokes her chin in mock-contemplation. “On the moon. In Tha Tako. Climbing Mount Everest. The world is such a big place, Chuuya!”
“Seriously?”
Dazai props her shoulder against the locker and strokes her chin in mock-contemplation. “On the moon. In Tha Tako. Climbing Mount Everest. The world is such a big place, Chuuya!”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Dazai confirms with a smile that only lives on her lips, not the vacant look in her mars-brown eyes.
Pushing away from the locker, she forces the topic to a full-stop, no right of way, and falls into line with the bustling crowd of students who are in a hurry to get to their classrooms.
It’s one of the most frustrating things in Chuuya’s life — and there are /a lot/ of them — to run into a wall made of Dazai’s silent, deathless war with the world and herself. Because no amount of stubborn-headed yelling, snapping or even punching can break through it.
It simply won’t budge. And Chuuya remains on the outside, knuckles all bruised up.
“What were you doing with Dostoevsky?” Chuuya asks, the click-clack of her heels against the school hallways echoing the racing beat of her heart. “I thought you two hated each other.”
“What were you doing with Dostoevsky?” Chuuya asks, the click-clack of her heels against the school hallways echoing the racing beat of her heart. “I thought you two hated each other.”
“Love and hate are two sides of the same coin,” Dazai tells her. These sure are /words/, but they are not /answers/, and they are certainly not /meaningful/ — another lovely attribute of Dazai.
“Right,” Chuuya huffs out. “Good luck with that.”
“Right,” Chuuya huffs out. “Good luck with that.”
Dostoevsky is one year above them, and aside from the fact that she comes from Russia and is part of the cello club here, every other aspect of her life is shrouded in foggy mystery.
Chuuya doesn’t really care, but Dazai tried to play detective as part of one of her weird games once upon a time. It didn’t end well. At least, that’s what Dazai told her when she came knocking at Chuuya’s bedroom window, her left eye covered in new bandages.
“She owes me a favor,” Dazai relents, probably since Chuuya doesn’t try to hide the brewing irritation on her face. “I wanted to remind her, so she won’t forget.”
First, this bitch goes missing for several days. Then she refuses to say where she was.
First, this bitch goes missing for several days. Then she refuses to say where she was.
And now she won’t even tell her what’s up with her and Dostoevsky. It’s like talking to one of those psychics at a bazaar that will make you pay /thousands/ of yen, yet deny you /any/ straight answer.
“Whatever,” Chuuya mutters as they enter the classroom.
Being left on the outside — /that’s/ what she is annoyed about. Dazai can do whatever she wants with whomever she wants.
Being left on the outside — /that’s/ what she is annoyed about. Dazai can do whatever she wants with whomever she wants.
She spends the rest of the school day brooding in silence, pretending to be too busy studying for the upcoming maths exam to talk about the date with Tachihara tonight. Dazai wanders off to god knows where during lunch.
It wouldn’t surprise Chuuya if she was with Dostoevsky again, considering that seems to be /a thing/ now. That's fine.
***
Tachihara picks out a classy restaurant with low-hanging lights and quiet, sober piano music running in the background.
***
Tachihara picks out a classy restaurant with low-hanging lights and quiet, sober piano music running in the background.
Although Chuuya does have a taste for filthy-expensive jewelry and shoes, she can’t help but wonder whether Tachihara can even afford a place like this. If he doesn’t, he keeps a stiff upper lip about it.
It’s… okay.
It’s… okay.
Chuuya feels a tangible awkwardness linger in the air for the first half of it, but it gets better with time. Tachihara might be trying hard, /too hard/, but there is a reason why Chuuya agreed to go outside with him that night in the first place.
He’s fun. Easy to talk to.
He’s fun. Easy to talk to.
And refreshingly honest. There is no mystery laced into every single one of his words. No enigmatic smiles that could have a thousand different translations, none of them the right one. No half-truths in the shape of silly jokes.
/Nice and simple./
/Nice and simple./
Chuuya’s probably even more surprised than Tachihara that she ends up having such a good time, the traces of a permanent smile etched into her face when they pay the bill and decide to take a stroll home.
So it surprises her even more when they’re almost in front of her house, having spent most of the walk talking about workouts and the weird people at their gyms, that her stomach flips over in agitation bordering on /dread./
It’s not like they haven’t kissed already.
It’s not like they haven’t kissed already.
Even though, yes, she was pretty drunk and barely remembers it — that kiss, at least. It’s supposed to be like riding a bike, though, so this sudden need to find an excuse to go home without any weird goodbye kisses is confusing, to say the least.
“So hey,” Chuuya says, fiddling with the straps of her bag around her shoulder, “I had fun tonight.”
Tachihara shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I sense a /but/ coming.”
Chuuya lets out a breath. “I have /plans./ +
Tachihara shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I sense a /but/ coming.”
Chuuya lets out a breath. “I have /plans./ +
I’ve known what university I was going to apply to ever since I was fourteen years old.” /A pinky finger-pact made between two best friends at two in the morning./ “And I am not going to change any of these plans now. We’re still young. We only have one year of school left. +
I have no idea what your plans are, and I’m not going to try to change them either, so, I guess, what I’m saying is,” she shrugs, “that we should keep it casual. Without all the expectations.”
Because /that’s/ why she keeps hesitating all this time.
Because /that’s/ why she keeps hesitating all this time.
She has a list of things to accomplish, and for the longest time, a high school romance had no place in it. That’s why she wants to run.
“I haven’t had a single plan in my entire life,” Tachihara jokes and points at himself. “Head empty. No thoughts.”
“I haven’t had a single plan in my entire life,” Tachihara jokes and points at himself. “Head empty. No thoughts.”
Chuuya rolls her eyes as her lips strain to laugh. “You never know what opportunities you might get in the future. I just don’t want anything to stand in the way of that.”
“That’s cool.” Tachihara flashes her a smirk. “And I don’t mind casual.”
Good.
That’s good.
“That’s cool.” Tachihara flashes her a smirk. “And I don’t mind casual.”
Good.
That’s good.
As Chuuya turns to face him, she can’t help but look for any lights in the house across from them, look for any sign that Dazai’s at home, spread out like a starfish on the floor as she paints invisible animal figures in the air. Then she lets her gaze slide back to Tachihara.
He won’t kiss her if she doesn’t want to, she’s pretty sure, but casual is supposed to mean no hard feelings, right? Not the other way around.
“Then…” Chuuya curls her hands into fists and leans forward, pressing her lips against his. Quick and simple.
“Then…” Chuuya curls her hands into fists and leans forward, pressing her lips against his. Quick and simple.
There and gone in an instant as she leans back to muster up the most casual smile in her repertoire. “I’ll see you at school.”
“Yup.” Tachihara lifts his hand to wave but ends up scratching the back of his neck. “See ya.”
“Yup.” Tachihara lifts his hand to wave but ends up scratching the back of his neck. “See ya.”
Swiveling around and walking towards her house, she blows out a strained breath. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Nope. All good. Thankfully, her mother is at a work event right now.
Chuuya never told her about Tachihara and any dates in the first place, but she’s pretty sure her mother would have somehow managed to spot the two of them if she was here and made it into a bigger thing that it is.
Inside, Chuuya doesn’t take off her jacket or go upstairs.
Inside, Chuuya doesn’t take off her jacket or go upstairs.
Instead, she heads through the living room to the backyard, then outside and to the house next door.
Dazai's house.
It’s empty. Chuuya’s pretty sure Mori is working, but a faint neon-red light shines from the room above, which means that Dazai is home.
Dazai's house.
It’s empty. Chuuya’s pretty sure Mori is working, but a faint neon-red light shines from the room above, which means that Dazai is home.
Chuuya lets herself in and pauses to wait for any noise before walking upstairs. There's none aside from the muffled sound of music.
“Dazai,” she calls a few seconds ahead. “You better be decent.”
“Dazai,” she calls a few seconds ahead. “You better be decent.”
“Sadly, I am,” someone says behind her, and Chuuya spins around, clutching a hand to her chest as Dazai, blank-faced, watches her have a heart attack.
“You fucking scared me,” Chuuya mutters.
“You’re the one here uninvited,” Dazai points out, strolling into her room.
“You fucking scared me,” Chuuya mutters.
“You’re the one here uninvited,” Dazai points out, strolling into her room.
“Well, I saw that you’re home. What've you been up to?”
Dazai lets herself fall onto her bed. “I tried to read a book but ended up reading Wikipedia articles about windmills for two hours instead.”
“Wow.” Snorting softly, Chuuya sits down at Dazai’s desk.
Dazai lets herself fall onto her bed. “I tried to read a book but ended up reading Wikipedia articles about windmills for two hours instead.”
“Wow.” Snorting softly, Chuuya sits down at Dazai’s desk.
It’s hard to find a place to rest her arm on since ithe surface is brimming with empty plates, bottles, textbooks, earrings, and whatnot. The opened page on her laptop is what catches her eye, though. “And articles about Osaka?”
Dazai hums. +
Dazai hums. +
"Yes. About /the moon isn’t real/ conspiracy theories, too.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re having so much fun.”
“Did you?” Chuuya slides a look her way. “On your date with Tachihara-kun, of course.”
She’s surprised Dazai even remembers.
“It was good. I had fun.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re having so much fun.”
“Did you?” Chuuya slides a look her way. “On your date with Tachihara-kun, of course.”
She’s surprised Dazai even remembers.
“It was good. I had fun.”
“You sure sound like it.”
“I /did/.”
“I guess congratulations are in order then.”
“Save your breath. We’re still not together.”
Dazai’s hair when she sits up is sticking up every which way. “Why? Do you need a second day to seal the deal? +
“I /did/.”
“I guess congratulations are in order then.”
“Save your breath. We’re still not together.”
Dazai’s hair when she sits up is sticking up every which way. “Why? Do you need a second day to seal the deal? +
A third, fourth one, maybe?”
Chuuya feels a stab of hot-flaring irritation in her chest. “We’re keeping things casual. That’s it.”
“So you’re friends with benefits then?”
“No.”
It’s evident that Dazai has opinions about that.
Chuuya feels a stab of hot-flaring irritation in her chest. “We’re keeping things casual. That’s it.”
“So you’re friends with benefits then?”
“No.”
It’s evident that Dazai has opinions about that.
However, she lets them evaporate into a fine mist, replacing them with a sardonic grin. “Heh. Okay.”
Chuuya decides to steer the conversation somewhere other than Tachihara and dating — the one thing causing her constant headaches in her life.
Chuuya decides to steer the conversation somewhere other than Tachihara and dating — the one thing causing her constant headaches in her life.
“You coming to the lake with us tomorrow?”
The unimpressed look Dazai shoots her makes Chuuya wince.
Right.
“We could go together,” she suggests instead. “Just the two of us.”
“I don’t care about your friends seeing my art works. +
The unimpressed look Dazai shoots her makes Chuuya wince.
Right.
“We could go together,” she suggests instead. “Just the two of us.”
“I don’t care about your friends seeing my art works. +
I simply have no desire sitting like a mummy in the sun.”
“No, I mean somewhere with /no one/ else.”
Dazai raises her brows. “And where would that be?”
“Say yes first,” Chuuya says, feeling a smile stretch on her face, “and I might tell you.”
“No, I mean somewhere with /no one/ else.”
Dazai raises her brows. “And where would that be?”
“Say yes first,” Chuuya says, feeling a smile stretch on her face, “and I might tell you.”
Groaning slightly, Dazai looks to the ceiling as if searching for patience. /Rude./ “Chuuya’s so mean. Just tell me!”
“Not until —”
“Fine. Yes. Stop looking like that.”
“Like /what/?”
“Like you’re happy.”
“Well, I am. Summer is here. School is ending soon. +
“Not until —”
“Fine. Yes. Stop looking like that.”
“Like /what/?”
“Like you’re happy.”
“Well, I am. Summer is here. School is ending soon. +
We can spend our entire days tanning and sipping self-made mojitos. Well, you can. I’ll have to keep studying on the side, but you know what? I don’t care. At least, we will have /time/.”
Judging by Dazai’s expression, she doesn’t seem to share the enthusiasm.
Judging by Dazai’s expression, she doesn’t seem to share the enthusiasm.
She rarely does, so Chuuya doesn’t think much of it.
(She should have.)
***
(She should have.)
***
Thankfully, the place Chuuya intends to take them isn’t far away enough that they have to ask someone to drive them since neither of them is of legal age yet. Chuuya’s going to start classes soon to finish them before college, and Dazai — well, she doesn’t plan to drive at all.
Knowing her, maybe it’s for the best.
The following morning, after texting her friends she’s busy helping her mother with an upcoming fundraiser event, Chuuya shows up at Dazai’s house with her bike and two bags full of necessities they’ll need.
The following morning, after texting her friends she’s busy helping her mother with an upcoming fundraiser event, Chuuya shows up at Dazai’s house with her bike and two bags full of necessities they’ll need.
Dazai comes out onto the porch with a single, near-empty tote bag and a goofy smile.
That’s okay. Chuuya saw that coming. Everything she needs Dazai can use, too.
“Get out your bike."
Dazai makes a face. “Eh, that’s not going to work. It's broken.”
That’s okay. Chuuya saw that coming. Everything she needs Dazai can use, too.
“Get out your bike."
Dazai makes a face. “Eh, that’s not going to work. It's broken.”
Chuuya balks. “You’re lying.”
“Am not. I was running late for school this one time, and there was a stupid pedestrian, and next thing I know, me and my bike were in the river.” Dazai glances at Chuuya’s bike instead. “Can’t you let me ride on the back?”
“Am not. I was running late for school this one time, and there was a stupid pedestrian, and next thing I know, me and my bike were in the river.” Dazai glances at Chuuya’s bike instead. “Can’t you let me ride on the back?”
“I have like a thousand things to carry. I can’t carry you as well.”
“I’m not that heavy. /I think./”
“Doesn’t Mori have a bike or something?”
“Have you seen her?”
Right. There is no way.
Dazai's face lights up with what must be an /idea./ “What about your vespa?”
Well…
“I’m not that heavy. /I think./”
“Doesn’t Mori have a bike or something?”
“Have you seen her?”
Right. There is no way.
Dazai's face lights up with what must be an /idea./ “What about your vespa?”
Well…
It takes some time to get out the rusty thing, check that everything’s okay, and somehow get most of their things, and most importantly, the two of them on it. Frankly, Chuuya finds the plain black thing /embarrassing/. It’s slow and small and incredibly boring.
She’d prefer a /real/ motorcycle. Maybe in a flashy pink color. One that’s preferably twice the size of her, and /fast/.
But she still has to wait a few years until she can even start her license, let alone save up enough money for it.
But she still has to wait a few years until she can even start her license, let alone save up enough money for it.
Not to mention that her mother would go mental. That’s a risk she is more than willing to take, though.
“Okay,” Chuuya says as she turns the keys, “you have to hold onto me.”
On cue, Dazai’s gangly arms slide around her waist.
“Okay,” Chuuya says as she turns the keys, “you have to hold onto me.”
On cue, Dazai’s gangly arms slide around her waist.
Chuuya is supposed to be focusing on the road, not on how soft and warm and perfectly fitting her best friend feels wrapped around her back. How she smells like strawberries, summer evenings, and cherry lipgloss.
The ride takes roughly ten minutes, most of it uphill, and the reason why Chuuya would have probably croaked if they had taken the bike. She might go to the gym three times a week, but she is not suited for /that./
By the time, Chuuya rolls the vespa to a slow stop, her heartbeat matching the pulse behind her, she feels herself buzzing with adrenaline and nerves. She can’t wait to feel the kind of kick she’ll get racing down the highway one day.
“That was fun,” she hears Dazai mumble behind her before she untangles herself from Chuuya. Something more challenging than anticipated since the basking heat has made their skin stick to each other with sweat. “Let’s walk home, please.”
Chuuya puts up the stand and gets off the bike with a snort. “We weren’t even that fast.”
“You’ll still want to consider walking later.”
Laying out her towel on the ground, Chuuya frowns. “Why in the world would I do that?”
Dazai gets two bottles of vodka out of her bag.
“You’ll still want to consider walking later.”
Laying out her towel on the ground, Chuuya frowns. “Why in the world would I do that?”
Dazai gets two bottles of vodka out of her bag.
“Because of this, of course ~.”
“Seriously? You couldn’t have told me that you brought booze /before/ I fucking drove us here with a vespa?!”
“It’s so hot,” Dazai whines, hiding the bottles in the bag again and sitting down on her towel, turning up her nose to face the sun.
“Seriously? You couldn’t have told me that you brought booze /before/ I fucking drove us here with a vespa?!”
“It’s so hot,” Dazai whines, hiding the bottles in the bag again and sitting down on her towel, turning up her nose to face the sun.
“I really didn’t feel like walking.”
“I hate you,” Chuuya murmurs, “I really do.” The sentiment gets quickly overshadowed by something else as she starts tugging at the hem of the sundress.
God knows the two of them have been swimming before in the past. It’s not that.
“I hate you,” Chuuya murmurs, “I really do.” The sentiment gets quickly overshadowed by something else as she starts tugging at the hem of the sundress.
God knows the two of them have been swimming before in the past. It’s not that.
It’s not that Chuuya gained some weight in the last few months either. She’s a chronic stress eater who finds relief in good food -- and school, life, and her mother /have been/ stressful lately.
Chuuya’s not going to deny that she finds herself glaring at herself in the mirror sometimes, finding pieces of her body that she wishes she could change, but she’s not spending entire days beating herself up about it either.
The issue right now is… this nervous flutter in her stomach that makes her feel all funny.
Chuuya decides to rip off the bandaid and simply get out of that damn dress before stuffing it into her handbag with more force than necessary.
Chuuya decides to rip off the bandaid and simply get out of that damn dress before stuffing it into her handbag with more force than necessary.
Her glare directs at Dazai when she notices a pair of amused eyes watching her.
“/What?!/”
“I’m simply wondering what that dress did to you to deserve such wrath.”
“Ha, ha.”
“/What?!/”
“I’m simply wondering what that dress did to you to deserve such wrath.”
“Ha, ha.”
Dazai, for her part, is still dressed and still mostly covered in her bandages, so Chuuya busies herself checking out whether any of the food she packed accidentally leaked — nope — and locating the sunscreen so she can cover herself in it.
Sunburns are no fun, but sadly, she’s highly prone to them.
Next to her, Dazai whistles to herself as she scrolls through her phone. She puts it away when a song starts playing, then starts unwrapping the gauze around her legs.
Chuuya’s almost finished with sun protection.
Next to her, Dazai whistles to herself as she scrolls through her phone. She puts it away when a song starts playing, then starts unwrapping the gauze around her legs.
Chuuya’s almost finished with sun protection.
The only issue is that her arms are simply not long enough to cover her entire back without missing a few essential patches of skin.
“Need a hand?” Dazai asks.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, but you gotta do me after I do you.”
“Need a hand?” Dazai asks.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, but you gotta do me after I do you.”
“Yes, yes,” Chuuya slaps the bottle into Dazai’s hand and turns her back to her, “get on with it already.”
“Always so impatient.”
“Always so impatient.”
Dazai’s hand is startingly cold and gentle when she starts rubbing it in, even making sure that some of the spots she already took care of are properly lotioned. Chuuya finds herself letting out a shallow breath.
“How’d you find this place anyway?” Dazai asks conversationally.
“How’d you find this place anyway?” Dazai asks conversationally.
“Kouyou and I used to go here.” Memories of childish, squealing laughter and water guns flash through Chuuya’s mind. “I’m pretty sure my father taught us how to swim here, too.”
Dazai hums. “How’s she doing?”
Dazai hums. “How’s she doing?”
“Kouyou?”
“Who else?”
This heat is frazzling her fucking brain cells. Chuuya pulls back her shoulders. “She’s fine. She met some guy that was nude-modeling for her.”
“College is starting to sound more and more appealing with each day,” Dazai says with a chuckle. +
“Who else?”
This heat is frazzling her fucking brain cells. Chuuya pulls back her shoulders. “She’s fine. She met some guy that was nude-modeling for her.”
“College is starting to sound more and more appealing with each day,” Dazai says with a chuckle. +
“I want to be someone’s nude model. Wait, no. I don’t. I want someone to nude-model /for/ me.”
“Worry about getting into college first,” Chuuya mutters.
“I’m sure Kyoto will love to have me. Have us both.”
“Worry about getting into college first,” Chuuya mutters.
“I’m sure Kyoto will love to have me. Have us both.”
Bullet point number three on Chuuya’s list of plans is getting into Kyoto University with Dazai. A promise made years ago but one that hasn’t changed ever since.
Blinking, Chuuya realizes that Dazai has been working on her back for ages now, and she twists her neck to glower at her. “Are you trying to put the sunscreen into my blood or something?”
“I’m merely being thorough. Chuuya should be thankful.”
“I’m merely being thorough. Chuuya should be thankful.”
“Just turn around!”
Dazai obediently presents her back to Chuuya, hugging her knees to her chest as she does so.
Dazai obediently presents her back to Chuuya, hugging her knees to her chest as she does so.
Out of the two of them, it’s not hard to see that Chuuya has more of pretty much everything -- hips, ass, stomach, boobs -- but she’s so used to seeing Dazai every day that she forgets just how fucking skinny she is sometimes.
Her shoulderblades basically poke Chuuya as she rubs the sunscreen over her upper back.
“Does Kouyou like Kyoto?”
“Yeah, she says it’s been great.” Then Chuuya frowns. “You haven’t changed your mind about applying there, right?”
“No. Have you?”
“Does Kouyou like Kyoto?”
“Yeah, she says it’s been great.” Then Chuuya frowns. “You haven’t changed your mind about applying there, right?”
“No. Have you?”
"No. I’ve had too many fights with my mother to do that now.”
“Wonderful," Dazai chirps.
/Yeah./ Chuuya frowns, waiting for a /but/ or /something else/ because Dazai sounds weird but nothing comes.
“Wonderful," Dazai chirps.
/Yeah./ Chuuya frowns, waiting for a /but/ or /something else/ because Dazai sounds weird but nothing comes.
Chuuya’s quicker with the process of lotioning, careful not to linger even when a part of her wants to take over the rest of Dazai's body too because she knows Dazai won’t be as thorough with herself as she was with Chuuya, which will result in a painful sunburn and +
endless complaining.
Once that’s done, she takes a couple of sips of water, already feeling like she has been roasting in a sauna for the last hour, and finally rises to her feet. “C’mon, this heat is killing me.”
With a whiny groan, Dazai flops back on her towel. +
Once that’s done, she takes a couple of sips of water, already feeling like she has been roasting in a sauna for the last hour, and finally rises to her feet. “C’mon, this heat is killing me.”
With a whiny groan, Dazai flops back on her towel. +
“Do we have to?”
“I didn’t go through all this trouble to spend all day /not/ in the water,” Chuuya snaps, leaning down to grab Dazai’s wrist. “Come with me, or so help me, god —”
“Fine, fine.”
“I didn’t go through all this trouble to spend all day /not/ in the water,” Chuuya snaps, leaning down to grab Dazai’s wrist. “Come with me, or so help me, god —”
“Fine, fine.”
// tw self-harm scars
Dazai gets up, albeit with a lot of huffing and puffing, her fingers unconsciously driving over her arms, covered in a myriad of cars, some thin, some thicker, some old, some new even to her. “Chuuya’s the worst for making me do this. +
Dazai gets up, albeit with a lot of huffing and puffing, her fingers unconsciously driving over her arms, covered in a myriad of cars, some thin, some thicker, some old, some new even to her. “Chuuya’s the worst for making me do this. +
I should have stayed home where I have a fan and wifi, and cold drinks and --” Chuuya gently pushes her into the water. “-- and this isn’t so bad,” Dazai finishes.
The water is refreshingly cold in the merciless midday sun and Chuuya dives into it, head and all, to ease the burning of her scalp.
When she reemerges and sees Dazai drawing shapes in the water, sun dancing across her face Chuuya thinks she could get used to a summer like this.
When she reemerges and sees Dazai drawing shapes in the water, sun dancing across her face Chuuya thinks she could get used to a summer like this.
***
The thing about a drunk Chuuya is that it’s a Chuuya who loses all her inhibitions and turns into a clingy, touchy, and emotional monster who hiccups every two seconds and thinks that sharing all her secrets and innermost thoughts is a great idea.
And Dazai loves it.
The thing about a drunk Chuuya is that it’s a Chuuya who loses all her inhibitions and turns into a clingy, touchy, and emotional monster who hiccups every two seconds and thinks that sharing all her secrets and innermost thoughts is a great idea.
And Dazai loves it.
“Never have I ever…” Chuuya squints like she’s trying to solve a complicated maths equation as she contemplates her following words. “Oh! Never have I ever /stolen a bike./”
Dazai smiles. “It’s not stealing if you return it. I /borrowed/ it.”
Dazai smiles. “It’s not stealing if you return it. I /borrowed/ it.”
“Drink!” Chuuya insists, though, stabbing her pointy, crimson-colored nail in Dazai’s direction. “You returned it two weeks later and only because you didn’t want to explain to Mori how you got it.”
“Technically, you were my accomplice, so you should --”
“Technically, you were my accomplice, so you should --”
“Fine, fine, I’ll drink too, but you should drink /more/!”
Lifting her hands, Dazai gives in and takes three gulps out of the bottle, both amused and slightly concerned because of how fast Chuuya is inhaling her liquor.
Lifting her hands, Dazai gives in and takes three gulps out of the bottle, both amused and slightly concerned because of how fast Chuuya is inhaling her liquor.
When Dazai decided to bring something to drink, it was because she needed a much-needed break from life, something to forget and blackout for a while, but it seems like she wasn’t the only one, and the reason for that will most likely spill out of Chuuya in two, maybe three +
rounds.
Not that Dazai doesn’t already have her suspicions.
She’s not that hard too read when she's sober either -- just ten times more stubborn about it.
"Your turn, Dazaaai."
"Never have I ever made out with a ginger... guy." She leans back on the towel they're +
Not that Dazai doesn’t already have her suspicions.
She’s not that hard too read when she's sober either -- just ten times more stubborn about it.
"Your turn, Dazaaai."
"Never have I ever made out with a ginger... guy." She leans back on the towel they're +
sitting on and watches Chuuya struggle to decide on how to react. It ends up being a grumpy huffy breath and a mumbled "unfair..." before she lifts the bottle to her lips.
Considering how much effort Chuuya has put into avoiding that topic--that night altogether--at all costs,+
Considering how much effort Chuuya has put into avoiding that topic--that night altogether--at all costs,+
it's a tame reply. Dazai isn't sure whether the thick, motionless weightthat lodges in the pit of her stomach is disappointment or satisfaction.
"Life's not fair, freckles."
She gets a light kick for that but the secret mile on Chuuya's face doesn't look all that annoyed.
"Life's not fair, freckles."
She gets a light kick for that but the secret mile on Chuuya's face doesn't look all that annoyed.
It takes exactly three more questions from both of them -- all of them very specific to make the other drinks which Dazai doesn't mind since he came here with that goal in mind -- before Chuuya's stubbornness cracks and she says, "Never have I ever been in love."
It's not a shot at Dazai. They both know that she hasn't ever willingly spent more than one week with anyone, let alone talked about love or feelings or butterflies.
What it is... is a /confession./
Perhaps even a /plea/ because Chuuya looks miserable as she restlessly +
What it is... is a /confession./
Perhaps even a /plea/ because Chuuya looks miserable as she restlessly +
fidgets with the sticker on her bottle.
"If anything," Dazai tells her and takes a quick sip, "you should be happy about that."
Chuuya's gaze snaps up to glare at her except her eyes are wide and shiny with emotions. "Well, I'm not! I feel -- I feel like something's wrong +
"If anything," Dazai tells her and takes a quick sip, "you should be happy about that."
Chuuya's gaze snaps up to glare at her except her eyes are wide and shiny with emotions. "Well, I'm not! I feel -- I feel like something's wrong +
with me because there's this guy and I am simply unable to --" Her speech comes to a sudden stop as she glances at Dazai, then at the bottle in her hands, and back to Dazai. "Wait. Did you just /drink/?"
Dazai was certain that would go by unnoticed.
Turns out she was wrong.
Dazai was certain that would go by unnoticed.
Turns out she was wrong.
"We are still playing, right?" Dazai goes for a nonchalant tone, pleasantly surprised that she actually pulls it off. "Or are we taking a break because of your mental breakdown?"
Chuuya's mouth opens and closes. "Who -- when the hell have you ever been /in love/?! With whom?!"
Chuuya's mouth opens and closes. "Who -- when the hell have you ever been /in love/?! With whom?!"
Another thing Dazai loves about drunk Chuuya? She would not shut up even if someone held her at gunpoint.
"Was it your dealer?! No. There's no fucking way you were in love with him. You literally texted me every time you were with him to tell me how annoying he was!"
"Was it your dealer?! No. There's no fucking way you were in love with him. You literally texted me every time you were with him to tell me how annoying he was!"
// tw drugs
Dazai almost laughs at that. No, she was not in love with Ivan. He did have good weed, though.
Chuuya continues desperately gaping at her like Dazai just confessed to her that she's suffering from a terminal disease. "I don't understand, Dazai, who was it and why +
Dazai almost laughs at that. No, she was not in love with Ivan. He did have good weed, though.
Chuuya continues desperately gaping at her like Dazai just confessed to her that she's suffering from a terminal disease. "I don't understand, Dazai, who was it and why +
won't you tell me! What --" Chuuya cuts herself off, mouth parting around unspoken words, as she looks at Dazai who pretty much accepts her fate right then and there because -- "It's /her/, isn't it?"
Dazai blinks. "Huh?"
"Dostoevsky. You -- you have feelings for her. +
Dazai blinks. "Huh?"
"Dostoevsky. You -- you have feelings for her. +
That's why you were with her in school. /That's why/ you disappeared because you were with her and now /you/ -- you're in love and I'm -- I --"
And then, for the second time today, something happens that Dazai didn't expect.
Chuuya breaks out into tears.
And then, for the second time today, something happens that Dazai didn't expect.
Chuuya breaks out into tears.
Loud, hiccuping and incoherent crying that leaves Dazai awkwardly frozen at first, not sure what to do here.
"Hey," she manges to say after a while. "It's okay."
"No, it's /not/!" Chuuya exclaims. "I'm going to be stuck /alone/ and /miserable/ for the rest of my life and +
"Hey," she manges to say after a while. "It's okay."
"No, it's /not/!" Chuuya exclaims. "I'm going to be stuck /alone/ and /miserable/ for the rest of my life and +
you -- you're going to marry Dostoevsky and forget about me --"
"Chuuya." Sighing, Dazai crawls forward to poke her forehead. "I could never forget about you."
"Then why didn't you /tell me/?" More tears welling up, Chuuya angrily wipes at her eyes, shaking her head. +
"Chuuya." Sighing, Dazai crawls forward to poke her forehead. "I could never forget about you."
"Then why didn't you /tell me/?" More tears welling up, Chuuya angrily wipes at her eyes, shaking her head. +
"She doesn't like me. She never did. That's why you didn't say anything, right? Well, don't bother anymore. You can sail off into the sunset with her. I'll be fine on my own!"
"I am not sailing off to anywhere." Dazai's smile is a little bitter, a little off-kilter because +
"I am not sailing off to anywhere." Dazai's smile is a little bitter, a little off-kilter because +
of the irony, but Chuuya's too busy crying to notice that right now. "Why don't you, uh," she blindly searches for the bottle of water in one of the bags, "drink something, take a deep breath and --"
"I am fucking calm, Dazai!" Chuuya snaps as more tears roll down her cheeks.
"I am fucking calm, Dazai!" Chuuya snaps as more tears roll down her cheeks.
"Forgive me for needing a minute after finding out my best friend's going to leave me!"
In the heat of this incredibly frustrating moment, Dazai grabs Chuuya's face and makes her look at her. "I am /not/ going anywhere. And you -- you're /not/ going to be alone either."
In the heat of this incredibly frustrating moment, Dazai grabs Chuuya's face and makes her look at her. "I am /not/ going anywhere. And you -- you're /not/ going to be alone either."
Chuuya's lips tremble. "But I --"
"You're not in love with Tachihara. So what? He's /one/ person out of billion of people, Chuuya."
"But I've never liked anyone except --"
Dazai feels herself still.
"I've never liked anyone," Chuuya says again with a sniffle.
"You're not in love with Tachihara. So what? He's /one/ person out of billion of people, Chuuya."
"But I've never liked anyone except --"
Dazai feels herself still.
"I've never liked anyone," Chuuya says again with a sniffle.
"You're 17 years-old. You literally have your whole life ahead of you."
"But I..." Chuuya's voice cracks and she slumps forward and into Dazai, and Dazai can't do anything but let her. It doesn't feel awkward anymore to wrap her arms around Chuuya, rub her back with one hand.
"But I..." Chuuya's voice cracks and she slumps forward and into Dazai, and Dazai can't do anything but let her. It doesn't feel awkward anymore to wrap her arms around Chuuya, rub her back with one hand.
It just feels right. It felt right that night, too, and not a lot of things ever do in Dazai's head. "I just..." Chuuya tries to say, voice muffled since she's pressed against Dazai's neck. "I just feel so /wrong/ all the time, and I -- I don't know /why./"
Dazai's hand seems to both soften and tighten around the nape of her neck. "You're perfectly fine as you are."
"I'm not." Chuuya stubbornly shakes her head. "I swear, I'm /broken/ or /defective/ or --"
"The only thing defective about you are your brain cells. And that's +
"I'm not." Chuuya stubbornly shakes her head. "I swear, I'm /broken/ or /defective/ or --"
"The only thing defective about you are your brain cells. And that's +
because you killed them off with all the liquor you drank, so now you're convinced there's something wrong with you even though it couldn't be farther from the truth."
Chuuya pulls away to scowl except she ends up half-laughing before more tears bubble up.
Chuuya pulls away to scowl except she ends up half-laughing before more tears bubble up.
The actual truth is much simpler than that.
At least, Dazai has a feeling it is.
What's complicated is telling Chuuya about it without accidentally letting her go off the deep end and bringing up something like sexual orientation now would achieve exactly /that./
At least, Dazai has a feeling it is.
What's complicated is telling Chuuya about it without accidentally letting her go off the deep end and bringing up something like sexual orientation now would achieve exactly /that./
So instead she settles on a different sort of truth, one in another color.
"Fact is that you're drunk, emotional and probably going to laugh about this tomorrow."
Sniffeling, Chuuya huffs out a breath.
"Fact is that someday you're going to meet someone and +
"Fact is that you're drunk, emotional and probably going to laugh about this tomorrow."
Sniffeling, Chuuya huffs out a breath.
"Fact is that someday you're going to meet someone and +
none of this will even matter."
"I just..." Chuuya's fingers curl in the hem of Dazai's shirt. "I just want to stop feeling like this."
"Here."
The bottle of liquor is all Dazai can offer to make her feel better. Chuuya accepts it and takes a swig before finally looking +
"I just..." Chuuya's fingers curl in the hem of Dazai's shirt. "I just want to stop feeling like this."
"Here."
The bottle of liquor is all Dazai can offer to make her feel better. Chuuya accepts it and takes a swig before finally looking +
at Dazai. Her tears have finally stopped, her face isn't crumpled in pain and confusion anymore, but something else has replaced it.
Something quiet and dangerous.
Something that makes Dazai's hyper-aware of how close they are, Chuuya's knees still pressed against her, +
Something quiet and dangerous.
Something that makes Dazai's hyper-aware of how close they are, Chuuya's knees still pressed against her, +
her fingers resting on Dazai's thighs, knotted in old shirt fabric, and her face bare inches away.
"I want to feel something," Chuuya repeats, voice a breathless whisper. "Something /good./"
And Dazai's not entirely sure whether another question follows because +
"I want to feel something," Chuuya repeats, voice a breathless whisper. "Something /good./"
And Dazai's not entirely sure whether another question follows because +
her brain shuts down the moment Chuuya's suddenly /there/, pressing her lips against her, tasting like salt and orange juice and vodka and --
Dazai has the strange sensation of being half-asleep.
She spent so many afternoons in school with her head on her desk, daydreaming +
Dazai has the strange sensation of being half-asleep.
She spent so many afternoons in school with her head on her desk, daydreaming +
about something as ridiculously impossible as /this/ -- a summer day spent together, just the two of them, listening to their favorite songs as they watch the sun bleed across the sky, and /Chuuya/ kissing /her./
The bathroom kiss was a drunk practicality. Only 68% selfish, +
The bathroom kiss was a drunk practicality. Only 68% selfish, +
and 32% to calm Chuuya down.
But /this./
Dazai can feel the desperation on Chuuya's lips, and oh, it's real, realer than life itself, and --
Chuuya shrinks back with a sharp inhale. "I'm sorry -- I shouldn't have done that -- you're --"
It's epic irony, at best, that +
But /this./
Dazai can feel the desperation on Chuuya's lips, and oh, it's real, realer than life itself, and --
Chuuya shrinks back with a sharp inhale. "I'm sorry -- I shouldn't have done that -- you're --"
It's epic irony, at best, that +
in a moment like this, Dazai's words suddenly fail her, but maybe, just maybe, that's her body doing her a favor because grabbing Chuuya's cheek and kissing her is /so much better/ than speaking right now.
Chuuya makes a whimpering noise in the back of her throat before she +
Chuuya makes a whimpering noise in the back of her throat before she +
kisses her back with the urgency of a dying breath. And perhaps Dazai was simply that good of a teacher, or, Chuuya's a natural talent, (or Chuuya had more opportunity to practice with Tachihara -- a one-brain-celled simpleton, of all people) -- whatever it is, Chuuya is +
exceptional, perfect, pushing Dazai back until she's basically sitting on her and blinking down at Dazai, chest rising and falling as she breathes hard.
"What about Dostoevsky?" she asks.
/What about her?/
Dazai was and never will be in love with Dostoevsky.
"What about Dostoevsky?" she asks.
/What about her?/
Dazai was and never will be in love with Dostoevsky.
She is an academic rival, at best, and flimsy entertainment, at worst, but the only reason Chuuya saw them talking was that Dazai needed her to ask a question about the university she was accepted into. It’s not Dazai’s fault that Chuuya likes to jump to conclusions like she's +
competing in a track and field race. So when Chuuya accused her of being in love with someone else… well, that was the more convenient answer.
Even now, though, the truth is not an option.
Even now, though, the truth is not an option.
Because Dazai’s not /blind./ Chuuya might be kissing her, but this is as much of a nervous breakdown as the emotional crying earlier. Dazai's just selfish enough to ignore it.
“Chuuya,” she says instead, squeezing her wrist gently. “Dostoevsky doesn’t matter.”
Chuuya opens her
“Chuuya,” she says instead, squeezing her wrist gently. “Dostoevsky doesn’t matter.”
Chuuya opens her
mouth like she's going to argue. After a moment in which Dazai’s heartbeat drowns out every sound of nature around them, she lets out a breath, though, and nods several times, probably trying to convince /herself./ “Okay. She -- it doesn't matter.”
It doesn’t.
It doesn’t.
Whether she really means Dostoevsky or /this/, the two of them, Dazai doesn’t know, doesn’t have time to wonder either because Chuuya’s already on her, slotting their mouths back together.
She’s not shy or tentative about what she does anymore either.
She’s not shy or tentative about what she does anymore either.
Dazai can taste her hunger, the trembling fervency radiating off her in feverish waves with each slide of their lips, and Dazai doesn't think she has ever been as happy to give Chuuya whatever little thing she wants and needs right now as /now./
Dazai’s arms get pinned against the ground, Chuuya’s fingers only relaxing around them when she must realize that Dazai won’t fight her on it. With time, Chuuya's weight on her hips starts to melt into her as well.
All that dreadful tension that Chuuya holds inside her all the time slowly bleeding out of her, and Dazai can feel the exact moment Chuuya simply — she /lets go./
“This…” Chuuya pulls away a few timid inches, her soft breathing ghosting over Dazai’s cheek. “It feels good. +
“This…” Chuuya pulls away a few timid inches, her soft breathing ghosting over Dazai’s cheek. “It feels good. +
How does it feel /so good/?”
Rolling her head to be able to look at her, Dazai waggles her eyebrows. “That would be /me./”
The quiet laugh is only a front. Chuuya looks just as frazzled by the realization as seconds before, so Dazai tries again.
Rolling her head to be able to look at her, Dazai waggles her eyebrows. “That would be /me./”
The quiet laugh is only a front. Chuuya looks just as frazzled by the realization as seconds before, so Dazai tries again.
“All this stuff is supposed to feel good, Chuuya. You’re not supposed to force yourself to like guys or —”
“I don’t /force/ myself,” Chuuya cuts in, voice a breath away from sounding defensive.
“Okay,” Dazai says because what else is there to do? Chuuya’s not ready.
“I don’t /force/ myself,” Chuuya cuts in, voice a breath away from sounding defensive.
“Okay,” Dazai says because what else is there to do? Chuuya’s not ready.
Maybe this isn’t the best time or place for that conversation either. Maybe she needs to figure this out for herself even if it would be so much easier to take her by the shoulders much and say: /you like girls. It’s okay./
Chuuya exhales a huffy breath, then slides her hands up the length of her wrists and interlaces their fingers. “I’m sorry. I’m just.. this is /a lot./”
“Hey, it’s all right. You don’t have to do anything. We can simply lie here and....” +
“Hey, it’s all right. You don’t have to do anything. We can simply lie here and....” +
Dazai drags her gaze from, objectively speaking, the prettiest view in the entire world to the starry sky above them. “... watch the stars, make up constellations.”
There is a moment of silence.
There is a moment of silence.
Then Chuuya’s hands press softly against hers, and she asks, “Actually, can we go back to, uh, the making out part?”
Dazai blinks.
“If you want to,” Chuuya continues and lets out a faint chuckle. “I kind of jumped you.”
Dazai blinks.
“If you want to,” Chuuya continues and lets out a faint chuckle. “I kind of jumped you.”
“Well, feel free to jump me again any time you want.” Dazai shrugs awkwardly and is thankful for her pulse only being audible to her own ears and not to Chuuya’s because if she heard it right now, she would know that none of this feels as casual as Dazai pretends it is.
“Consider me free real estate if you will.”
“Jesus, shut up.”
“Make m—”
“Jesus, shut up.”
“Make m—”
Chuuya’s softer this time, slower too, taking her sweet time to kiss Dazai precisely like she wants to, exploring each and every slick press of lips, every brush of tongue, every sharp ex- and soft inhale so thoroughly and meticulously like Dazai’s her object of study and +
Chuuya is trying to carve her into her memory. (Like she knows that she’s not going to get another opportunity to do this soon.) The drunk desperation bleeds out of her little by little, like someone stuck a needle into her and let all the air escape.
They end up with Chuuya half-rolling off her so that they’re facing each other.
Dazai can’t say that she didn’t enjoy Chuuya’s weight on top of her, feeling her thighs press against her and her body move whenever she shifted or leaned closer or tilted her head. But there is something nice and lazy about being able to lie side by side.
Dazai rarely ever feels sleepy. Dully awake? Yes. Permanently exhausted? Pretty much. But sleepiness is not a friend that comes to visit her very often, so it’s both a curse and a blessing to feel her lids grow heavy and tired /now/ of all times.
When Chuuya lets out an equally tired, muffled laugh against her cheek, Dazai decides that it’s a good thing. A blessing rather than a curse.
“Am I boring you to sleep?” Chuuya murmurs, the smile that Dazai doesn’t quite see is evident in her tone.
“Yes, Chuuya’s /so/ boring. +
“Am I boring you to sleep?” Chuuya murmurs, the smile that Dazai doesn’t quite see is evident in her tone.
“Yes, Chuuya’s /so/ boring. +
That’s why I spent the last eleven years hanging out with her every —” A yawn quite literally muddles her entire point. Dazai blinks in the darkness. “Every day.”
Chuuya’s silent for a moment. “I would tell you to go to sleep, but we’re literally outside.
Chuuya’s silent for a moment. “I would tell you to go to sleep, but we’re literally outside.
I’m pretty sure sleeping here is illegal. And lowkey dangerous.”
Eyes falling closed, Dazai hums. “Mmm.”
“Please don’t leave me,” Chuuya whispers, and something about the words makes Dazai force her eyes open again, "not before we decide what to do.”
Eyes falling closed, Dazai hums. “Mmm.”
“Please don’t leave me,” Chuuya whispers, and something about the words makes Dazai force her eyes open again, "not before we decide what to do.”
“I could call a friend and make them pick us up with their car,” Dazai suggests because she’d rather hang up a /live, love, laugh/ sign on her wall and become one of /those/ people than walk home right now.
“I don’t want to see any of your friends right now.”
“I don’t want to see any of your friends right now.”
Dazai should probably put that particular sentiment aside for dissecting for later, but sleep is a funny thing. A strong, insistent soldier that muddles with her head. “I could call Mori. +
She’d send over one of her residents if I told her that we’re drunk and came in a vehicle.”
“Or we could just sleep here,” Chuuya suggests instead.
“We could,” Dazai says because right now, it sounds better than any of the options she listed.
“Or we could just sleep here,” Chuuya suggests instead.
“We could,” Dazai says because right now, it sounds better than any of the options she listed.
“If we don’t freeze to death in our sleep, that is.”
“I did bring a blanket…”
Dazai waits.
“And myself,” Chuuya adds with a loaded pause at the end of the sentence. “For body heat, you know when —”
“I know.”
“I did bring a blanket…”
Dazai waits.
“And myself,” Chuuya adds with a loaded pause at the end of the sentence. “For body heat, you know when —”
“I know.”
There are all kinds of shrill and screaming alarm bells going off in her head alerting her that maybe, just maybe, Dazai’s being stupid clinging to this shred of... hope.
Chuuya has always been more clingy and open and emotional when she’s drunk, and right now, that side of her is just another facette of it.
But after a lifetime of hollow, colorless emptiness, the act of wanting is like a /drug/, like instant relief rushing through her veins and filling all the empty spaces with sprinkles of blazing red flames and the devastating blue sky shortly before night swallows it whole.
It’s overwhelming with a hint of too-much, and Dazai, who has always had the tendency to get addicted to anything that makes her feel good, wants to pump her blood full of it until she’s /drowning/ in it.
“I’m not going to be the big spoon, though,” she finally says, a way of screaming /yes; yes, to anything that you want me to do./
She hears Chuuya laugh in the dark, then the sound of shuffling. “I can be the big spoon, don’t worry. Hey, can you put the phone flash on? +
She hears Chuuya laugh in the dark, then the sound of shuffling. “I can be the big spoon, don’t worry. Hey, can you put the phone flash on? +
I can’t see shit.”
With a sigh, Dazai sits up and spends a few moments searching for her phone, completely forgotten over the last hour, before she finds it and lights the flash.
With a sigh, Dazai sits up and spends a few moments searching for her phone, completely forgotten over the last hour, before she finds it and lights the flash.
Chuuya’s small, drunk grin is the perfect amount of flushed, glossy lips and sharp curve, even while being illuminated by an iPhone flashlight as she looks for the blankets.
She gets them out with a murmured “/ha/” and crawls back to Dazai before throwing them over the two of them.
Dazai tosses her phone to the side and exhales deeply as Chuuya makes herself comfortable next to her.
Dazai tosses her phone to the side and exhales deeply as Chuuya makes herself comfortable next to her.
She’s never been a fan of filling the silence with pointless words, but this one feels demanding and magnetic in its stillness.
Then Chuuya’s hand slides down Dazai’s thigh, making the brittle thing inside her chest freeze to absolutely /zero/ beats per minute.
Then Chuuya’s hand slides down Dazai’s thigh, making the brittle thing inside her chest freeze to absolutely /zero/ beats per minute.
Somehow they both move at the same time, molding to each other like puzzle piece to puzzle piece, Chuuya wrapping around her back (like a little jetpack), and Dazai relaxing back against the sugary warmth that envelops her.
“I can’t even remember what I was so upset about,” Chuuya murmurs against the bare skin of Dazai’s shoulder, eliciting a shiver because her breath tickles.
“/I/ can,” Dazai replies. “You were freaking about not being able to love.”
“/I/ can,” Dazai replies. “You were freaking about not being able to love.”
The arm that’s casually resting over her hip draws back to pinch her. “I didn’t ask, asshole.”
“Technically, you implied me to a — okay, okay,” Dazai relents because Chuuya’s fingers can be cruel. “Let’s pretend that Chuuya didn’t have a meltdown less than an hour ago.”
“Technically, you implied me to a — okay, okay,” Dazai relents because Chuuya’s fingers can be cruel. “Let’s pretend that Chuuya didn’t have a meltdown less than an hour ago.”
“I didn’t. That was drunk me.”
“You’re still drunk.”
“Slightly drunker me then.”
“Well, I wonder what sober Chuuya will do,” Dazai murmurs, and the thing is — she wonders, but she doesn’t particularly want to actually know. Not this time.
“You’re still drunk.”
“Slightly drunker me then.”
“Well, I wonder what sober Chuuya will do,” Dazai murmurs, and the thing is — she wonders, but she doesn’t particularly want to actually know. Not this time.
Pain, after all, is not something she seeks out voluntarily.
Maybe Chuuya thinks the same. Maybe she’s just sleepy and drunk and pumped full of endorphins and dopamine.
Maybe Chuuya thinks the same. Maybe she’s just sleepy and drunk and pumped full of endorphins and dopamine.
She nuzzles her face against the back of Dazai’s shoulder and lets out a breath. “Let’s not think about that and just sleep.”
***
“/Oi, what are you doing here?!/”
***
“/Oi, what are you doing here?!/”
Dazai’s eyes barely manage to drag open with how sticky they are.
“You’re not allowed to camp out here! I’m gonna call the police!”
“Dazai.”
“You’re not allowed to camp out here! I’m gonna call the police!”
“Dazai.”
And this time, it’s Chuuya’s voice, thick with sleep but stern enough to force her brain to untangle from the cotton-fluff fog of sleep and step back into reality. “We have to go. /Now./”
Sitting up, the first thing Dazai sees — and hears — is a short, bald man yelling at them to get the fuck out of here. Behind her, Chuuya’s already frantically shoving things into her bed and muttering insincere apologies to the man.
The sun isn’t entirely out yet.
The sun isn’t entirely out yet.
It’s chilly.
“Sir, show a little /compassion/,” Dazai finally says and stretches her hands over her head before rubbing her eyes so she can give the man her full attention.
“Sir, show a little /compassion/,” Dazai finally says and stretches her hands over her head before rubbing her eyes so she can give the man her full attention.
“You see two poor, freezing homeless girls sleeping on the ground, and the first thing you do is yell at us to move?”
The man falters. Chuuya doesn’t stop packing, but Dazai hears the snuffed out snort that almost slips out of her.
The man falters. Chuuya doesn’t stop packing, but Dazai hears the snuffed out snort that almost slips out of her.
“People like you are the reason why the world will never change,” Dazai continues shamelessly. “Why it is like that, in the first place. I bet you sleep like a god on your bed. With heating. And food on the table every day. And people that respect you instead of treating you like
worthless trash."
“I — I didn’t —”
“Didn’t what? Didn’t /mean it/?” Dazai scoffs theatrically. “Oh, I’m sure you did, good sir. After all, we’re only just two homeless girls, right? Not allowed to even have a decent night of sleep?”
Chuuya tugs at her hand. “Show's over, Zai."
“I — I didn’t —”
“Didn’t what? Didn’t /mean it/?” Dazai scoffs theatrically. “Oh, I’m sure you did, good sir. After all, we’re only just two homeless girls, right? Not allowed to even have a decent night of sleep?”
Chuuya tugs at her hand. “Show's over, Zai."
Dazai glances around to see that Chuuya managed to pack up everything in that time. Wonderful. Just as expected. She steps closer to the man instead of following Chuuya though, looking down at him with woeful eyes and a delicate, disappointed shake of her head.
“I wish you a good day, sir. Yours will certainly be better than ours.”
The man can’t even look her in the eyes. So he fishes his hands into his pockets instead. “I can’t take back what I said, but I — I can give you this.” He holds out two thousand yen to her.
The man can’t even look her in the eyes. So he fishes his hands into his pockets instead. “I can’t take back what I said, but I — I can give you this.” He holds out two thousand yen to her.
“You can, at least... buy yourself a hot meal with this.”
Dazai accepts it without even blinking. “Thank you so much. May the Lord bless you.”
“/Dazai!/” Chuuya snaps somewhere behind her.
“Coming ~”
Dazai accepts it without even blinking. “Thank you so much. May the Lord bless you.”
“/Dazai!/” Chuuya snaps somewhere behind her.
“Coming ~”
Dazai doesn’t dare to look back, not when she’s strutting right to Chuuya’s fancy motorbike — certainly something two homeless girls wouldn’t have — and climbs on it, immediately looping her arms around her best friend. “Drive.”
“Hey, wait — !”
“/Now/,” Dazai says.
“Hey, wait — !”
“/Now/,” Dazai says.
Chuuya kicks off the dirt road, the howl of the engine overshadowing the angry voice trying to get them to stop.
But they’re already gone.
“Did you seriously take his money?!” Chuuya asks, voice almost lost in the wind.
“Sure I did. +
But they’re already gone.
“Did you seriously take his money?!” Chuuya asks, voice almost lost in the wind.
“Sure I did. +
It’s the least he could do after being so rude.”
Chuuya laughs, loud and happy and clear — the opposite of what Dazai imagined her to be today when she fell asleep — and it’s like her favorite songs being played over and over.
Chuuya laughs, loud and happy and clear — the opposite of what Dazai imagined her to be today when she fell asleep — and it’s like her favorite songs being played over and over.
// tw suicidal ideation
For someone who was still utterly intoxicated less than six hours ago — and for someone who probably isn’t even wholly sober yet, Chuuya's driving is nothing less than stellar — and even if it wasn't, Dazai wouldn't mind going out like /this./ Together.
For someone who was still utterly intoxicated less than six hours ago — and for someone who probably isn’t even wholly sober yet, Chuuya's driving is nothing less than stellar — and even if it wasn't, Dazai wouldn't mind going out like /this./ Together.
When the dully familiar shapes and colors of their neighborhood come into view, Dazai feels something heavy and sour settle in her stomach. The disappointing drop after a skyscraper-high. The song that comes after her favorite one.
The inevitable return to the monotonous, bland reality after getting to taste the cherry-rush of Chuuya’s lips.
It’s something Dazai is already familiar with, but she doubts she'd ever get any better at it, even after a thousand, after a million times.
It’s something Dazai is already familiar with, but she doubts she'd ever get any better at it, even after a thousand, after a million times.
Somehow Chuuya has that effect on universal laws and rules — they don’t apply to her.
“Home sweet home,” Chuuya murmurs after she takes off her helmet and runs her fingers through her sleep-tousled hair. “I’m surprised we made it in one piece.”
“I’m not,” Dazai chirps. +
“Home sweet home,” Chuuya murmurs after she takes off her helmet and runs her fingers through her sleep-tousled hair. “I’m surprised we made it in one piece.”
“I’m not,” Dazai chirps. +
“I am a few thousand yen richer now, though, so technically we could extend this little journey and….” She trails off because the look that falls over Chuuya is as clear of a /nope/ as any words could ever be.
Too much.
It’s too much. Chuuya said so herself yesterday.
Too much.
It’s too much. Chuuya said so herself yesterday.
“I really need to take a shower before my mother sees and kills me.” She makes an awkward face because they both know it’s more than just that. “And I am definitely not going out with that thing on my head. I don’t even want to know what my face looks like. +
Unacceptable, probably.”
Dazai has the insistent urge to tell her that she still looks fit to walk on the runway. She always does, but that would fall into the category of /way too much/, which would only make Chuuya retreat a hundred steps back.
Dazai has the insistent urge to tell her that she still looks fit to walk on the runway. She always does, but that would fall into the category of /way too much/, which would only make Chuuya retreat a hundred steps back.
So ignoring the impulse to break every single one of her own laws, Dazai musters up a blinding smile, lighter than the soft morning breeze, before she grabs her tote bag.
"Understandable. You do look a little rough around the edges,” Dazai says and is satisfied when the painful tension seeps out of Chuuya like air does out of a popped balloon, a scowl replacing it.
“/Hah?/”
“/Hah?/”
Dazai only lifts her hand in goodbye after she turns to make her way down the neat, narrow path home. “See ya ~”
Carrying a key is too bothersome.
Carrying a key is too bothersome.
Right now, she doesn’t have a hair pin either, the one she was wearing last night probably lost between blades of grass — hopefully, Chuuya will get her another pack for christmas — but thankfully, Mori doesn’t enjoy the surprise of discovering that her niece has slept +
outside on the canopy swing, so there is a spare key under a crusty frog statue that Dazai uses to let herself in.
The aromatic smell of coffee greets her, so instead of heading straight for her room, Dazai makes a stop in the kitchen first.
The aromatic smell of coffee greets her, so instead of heading straight for her room, Dazai makes a stop in the kitchen first.
Mori places her mug down to look at her, already dressed in slacks and a blouse. “Rough night?” she asks, probably meaning the state of Dazai’s appearance.
(Dazai passed a mirror on her way here. It did not look good.)
(Dazai passed a mirror on her way here. It did not look good.)
“The ground was rough, yeah,” Dazai replies, heading to the fridge, "but the night was actually good.”
“You should eat something. I can make you —”
“Don’t let your patients wait on my behalf,” Dazai cuts in with a soft snort. Her aunt’s concern is sweet but misplaced.
“You should eat something. I can make you —”
“Don’t let your patients wait on my behalf,” Dazai cuts in with a soft snort. Her aunt’s concern is sweet but misplaced.
If anything, she is a master at curing hangovers. Not that she’s dealing with one right now. It’s more like /withdrawal./
“My patients can wait.”
To make a point, Dazai makes a show of opening shelves and grabbing rice, eggs, and tofu.
“My patients can wait.”
To make a point, Dazai makes a show of opening shelves and grabbing rice, eggs, and tofu.
“Just because they can doesn’t mean they should.”
Mori exhales loudly and lets it go. Instead, she opens another can of worms. “Have you already made a decision?”
Mori exhales loudly and lets it go. Instead, she opens another can of worms. “Have you already made a decision?”
Dazai’s fingers continue moving, but she finds herself doing the silly thing of wishing she should have just let Mori lecture her about proper eating habits. “I am working on it.”
“That’s all right. +
“That’s all right. +
It’s a big thing to ask but remember that I need to have an answer until next Friday.”
“And since it’s only Sunday right now, that still leaves me plenty of time.” Dazai smiles, wondering if it looks as empty as it feels on her face.
“And since it’s only Sunday right now, that still leaves me plenty of time.” Dazai smiles, wondering if it looks as empty as it feels on her face.
“So I don’t see why we should waste precious breathing air talking about it /now./”
Mori places her cup in the sink, grabs her bag, and gives Dazai one last parting look. “Friday, Dazai-kun.”
/Friday./
***
Mori places her cup in the sink, grabs her bag, and gives Dazai one last parting look. “Friday, Dazai-kun.”
/Friday./
***
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
