colourful sailors washed up on the shore - astraltrain - 文豪ストレイドッグス (2024)

Chapter 1: put a little love into my lonely soul

Chapter Text

"This is f*cking boring," is the first thing Albatross says, five minutes after reaching their destination.

Chuuya, unfazed, reaches out and punches him in the arm.

"Quit your whining, asshole," he demands, "and skip some stones with us like a real man."

He groans, going limp against Chuuya's side. Because of his admittedly much larger height, it nearly sends him flying. "Can't we just go to the arcade?" he whines. His sunglasses dig into Chuuya's shoulder. "I'd prefer anything to the f*cking beach."

"Arcades cost money, Tross," Lippmann suddenly voices. He comes up behind them and slaps a hand across the younger boy's shoulder. "We don't have that. Unless you've been holding out on us."

The boy wails and slumps down to the ground in a pile of miserable teenager.

A cold sea breeze blows in, causing Chuuya to shudder, hard. He will admit that it is a bit miserable that he and his group of friends are so broke that they've got nowhere to hang out but at each other's cramped houses filled with siblings and parents, or at the beach on a relatively chilly day. Well, it's not that chilly. It's just… not warm enough to excuse going to the beach. But it at least means that there aren't many other people around. Just a few stray teenagers with nowhere else to go and some couples who've evidently decided that dead jellyfish washed up on the rocks and pieces of glass in your sandals are the peak of romance and have come to stare in each other's eyes while knocking their ankles together. Chuuya spots one such couple nearby on a bench and gags. Behind him, Albatross giggles, equally immature about topics such as romance.

"The day isn't that bad," Piano Man pipes up, eternally optimistic. Him and Doc have been struggling to try and make a pitiful sand castle even though most of the beach is just rocks and old cigarette butts. The plastic yellow bucket is possibly the brightest thing on the beach, apart from maybe Lippmann's ridiculous Hawaiian patterned shirt that he wore in an attempt to be funny. "We've got basically the whole beach to ourselves. Like, we can do whatever we want."

"What I want to do is go to the arcade," Albatross announces, and flops backwards into the rocks.

"Watch out," Doc warns, raising an eyebrow. "Jellyfish behind you."

Albatross sticks his tongue out, fiddling with the end of his straw-like braid. "Don't care. It's dead anyway."

There's a moment of relative silence in which no one says much of anything.

"Dead jellyfish can still sting you," Iceman says. He's sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest a couple metres away, closer to the water than the rest of them. He's also the only one not optimistically wearing shorts or a t-shirt in the hopes of the weather improving, instead dressed in black jeans and a long sleeve band shirt. "Their tentacles are covered in thousands of nematocyst cells which are filled to bursting with toxins that explode when they come under pressure. They can stay dangerous for as long as two weeks after death."

Another pause.

"Wow," Albatross mumbles. "Fascinating. Suddenly it was worth coming here."

"Man," Lippmann says, sounding a little annoyed. "You can walk home if you're gonna complain all day."

"Iceman wouldn't make me walk," Albatross says, pale blue eyes suddenly wide. "Would you, Iceman? You know how far away my house is, right?"

Iceman shoots him a deadpan look. Chuuya just squeezes his eyes shut and sighs.

He loves his friends to death. Really, he does. But it's close to summer break, now, the time after exams and end-of-year-tests, meaning that the six of them actually have the time to meet up outside of school, and of course they want to make the most of it. After all, this is going to be Doc and Iceman's last year before heading to whatever colleges or universities they pick. This might be the last summer they all have together as a friend group.

There is simply the obvious issue of none of them having the money to go out for food or to the cinema or even just to the local arcade every day. And it seems like everywhere they go, adults are convinced that any loitering group of teens is definitely going to start fights or shouting matches at any minute, so they can't even go to any of the nearby malls without paying for something. Hence the beach. As long as they aren't carrying around bottles of alcohol (or as long as no one sees them with them), they can't get kicked out.

It's just not a lot of fun.

Especially not today, in this grim f*cking weather. Chuuya contemplates just throwing up his hands and telling them they can come round to his place, but Ozaki and her girlfriend are there right now and God knows he doesn't want to accidentally walk in on something he'll never unsee. Lippmann has four siblings, so his house is never an option, a fact they all rue because he has the brand new PlayStation and a semi decent PC, the result of months of saving. Iceman's parents are in the middle of a divorce, and being there is always awkward. Albatross's older and younger sisters are constantly fighting and they can never have a moment of peace there. And Piano Man's family apartment is tiny, his room barely big enough to fit himself, much less five other people.

Doc never lets anyone round at his place. His parents are germaphobes. They all suppose that's fair enough, especially considering that his family's genes are fairly rough to the point where he's had to miss months of school due to being constantly sick. They've probably spent more time hanging out as a group at the hospital than they have anywhere else.

Chuuya's just about to make a joke about that when Albatross suddenly speaks up.

"Hey," he says, sitting up on his elbows without a care as to the rocks digging into his skin. "What's up with that kid?"

He nods in the direction of the person he's talking about, and they all glance over with the perfect synchronization of a group that loves drama and is often sh*ttalking somebody else.

There's a lone kid, down by the water. They're dressed in a white button up with faint blue stripes, dark brown combat trousers tied to their waist with a large belt. Short, messily cut brown hair flutters around their face in the breeze, making it so that Chuuya can't see their face.

He looks back to Albatross, puzzled. "What?"

"She - or he, I dunno -" Albatross starts, squinting as he peers down at the kid. "They've got, like, some kind of weird eyepatch on their face."

"Who gives a crap," Lippmann says. He bends down and grabs a rock off the ground, examining it to see if it's good for stone skipping. Evidently he decides not, because he tosses it away behind his head without a glance back. "Don't be judgy about sh*t like that, Tross, it's not nice."

"I wasn't," Albatross argues, looking rather put out. "I'm just wondering, like, what's up with that? And I think he - or they - I think they've also got bandages or something tied around their neck, too. Like a mummy."

Doc frowns. "I feel that's a rude comment to make."

"Yeah, stop being a dick," Chuuya mutters, slamming his elbow into Albatross's side. The boy wails in pain.

"Come on, we talk about other people way more meanly all the time," he complains. He yanks his sunglasses off his face and rubs the lenses clean on his orange tank top, shivering. "And I wasn't even trying to be mean. I was just pointing it out."

Chuuya ignores whatever his friends say next, because he's preoccupied with something. Namely, watching the kid. Not because he cares about anything Albatross had said, but just out of curiosity. Chuuya's like that - a people watcher. The human race endlessly fascinates him. And he has to admit, he'd love to know why a kid who doesn't look any older than himself is out here by themself on such a chilly day, skipping stones.

He watches as they reach down, searching the area around their off-white sneakers, before finding a perfect stone. They twist it around in their fingers, and Chuuya notices there are bandages on their wrists, too, and Albatross had been right about there being an eyepatch. It's white and covers their right eye. He wonders briefly how they see well enough to skip stones with only one eye, especially as he sees them lean in and toss the stone across the water one, two, three, four, five times.

That's impressive. Chuuya's never seen someone skip five in a row before, and their group hangs out on this beach a lot more than they'd like to.

"What'cha lookin' at?" someone says, far too close to Chuuya's ear, so much so that he yelps and turns to smack them in the face.

Albatross yowls like a cat and recoils. "Jesus! What's wrong with you, you're like a wild animal!"

"Well, you know Chuuya takes jujutsu," Doc says with a note of amusem*nt in his voice. He grins, showing off uneven teeth. "You ought to know better."

"Dick," Chuuya shoots at the boy beside him. His heart's racing for no real reason. He must have been deep in thought not to notice Albatross sneaking up on him. "I wasn't even doing anything. f*ck off and make a sandcastle with Doc and Piano Man."

Albatross raises an eyebrow and, to Chuuya's dismay, glances over to the kid down at the water. "Checking out that dude over there?"

"No," Chuuya snaps, feeling heat rise to his face. Albatross is his best friend and has been since they were babies, but God, if he doesn't want to punch him sometimes. "You know, me coming out as bisexual wasn't an invitation for you to start trying to set me up with everyone I look at for longer than three seconds."

The boy starts actually waggling his eyebrows, giggling. "But you weren't just looking. You were staring."

Chuuya lets out a large breath. "Jesus Christ, I hope you get hit by a bus. They just skipped a lot of stones in a row. It was kind of cool, it's whatever."

He's too busy being annoyed to notice what Albatross is doing until it's too late. The boy gets to his feet, sandals slipping on the rocks, and Chuuya is instantly in panic mode, reaching out to yank his ankles. "Get down!" he whisper-shouts. "Don't you dare even try and -"

"Hey!" Albatross shouts, cupping his mouth so his voice carries. "Hey, kid!"

Pretty much everyone on the beach turns to look at them, including the rest of their friends who had been paying more attention to Doc and Piano Man's sandcastle than whatever Chuuya and Albatross had been talking about. Oh, he wants to curl up and die. Immediately. He's never going to speak to Albatross again.

The kid at the water glances up at them, too. Unsurprising, because they'd have to be deaf not to hear Albatross's loud ass voice, but Chuuya had still hoped that maybe they'd ignore him. No such luck. They're staring over at the group of them, now, expression blank as they seem to be trying to figure out if they're the one being yelled at. Chuuya hides his face in his hands.

Albatross taps the top of Chuuya's head roughly, delight evident in his tone in his next words.

"My friend thinks you're cool!" he hollers.

Chuuya's going to throw himself in the sea and not resurface.

When he peeks through his fingers, he sees the kid looking hesitant, likely unsure as to whether they're being made fun of. They glance back and forth, seeing basically nobody else in the vicinity, and then point directly at themself, as if asking: Me?

"Yeah, you!" Albatross yells, bobbing his head and shooting thumbs up. "It's him! He thinks you're cool!"

He jabs his finger down towards the top of Chuuya's head. He can feel how red he's turned, and is already plotting revenge for this humiliating event. Albatross will suffer for this. He vows it now.

"I - I just thought your stone skipping was cool," Chuuya shouts down at the kid. How embarrassing it is that he has to clarify this. He's not sure what to do with his hands, so he palms his cheeks in a useless effort to hide how crimson they are. "Sorry about him, he's an asshole."

The kid stares for another long moment, but doesn't say anything. Eventually, they simply turn away, lingering for only a moment before they gather a few stones from the ground and head further down the beach away from them.

The second they've turned away, Chuuya punches Albatross's ankle so hard he tumbles to the ground with a howl of pain.

"You - jerk," Chuuya growls, pummeling his friend's side. The flush in his face will not be going down for a while. He's certain of it. "I'm going - to - murder you!"

"What was that all about?" Piano Man says, sounding as though he's enjoying the entertainment. Chuuya shoots him a glare that would make anyone else look away frightened, but only serves to make Piano Man's grin grow. "Did we miss a chapter?"

"Shut it," Chuuya says loudly, and lands a final blow on Albatross's upper arm. It will surely bruise, but he deserves it for what he just did. "You embarrassed that poor guy, you f*cking dickwad! Look, now they probably think I'm the freak, when it's actually f*cking you!"

"Well, it was rude of her - of them not to even say anything," Albatross says, pouting and slapping Chuuya's fists away. "Like, I was so nice about it."

Chuuya huffs with frustration. "Because it sounded like you were making fun of them, you ass!"

Lippmann, Piano Man and Doc are absolutely losing their minds with laughter behind them. Iceman, as usual, is very quiet, but even he's grinning and giggling softly into his hands. Chuuya narrows his eyes and gets to his feet, suddenly annoyed at all of them. "You guys f*cking suck," he announces. Somebody give me a hundred yen, I want an ice cream."

They all have the decency to look moderately ashamed. "Sorry, Chuuya," says Lippmann, and he drops a few coins into his awaiting palm. "You better give me a few licks, this is my bus money."

"I'm your bus," Iceman says, lip twitching. "There's no need for public transport when you have a friend with a car."

Chuuya stomps off the beach back onto solid ground, towards the fish-and-chips shop that sells cheap tubs of ice cream that the group of them eat religiously when they're here simply because they're so cheap compared to everything else. This is not one of Yokohama's nicer beaches, which is made obvious by the many jagged rocks and discarded trash, so their prices tend not to get much higher during the tourist seasons. He appreciates this. Ozaki once told him that if he kept eating nothing but ice cream, he was going to become lactose intolerant. Chuuya had thought she made this up until Doc had confirmed it was a real thing, and now he eats a little more carefully out of fear.

Speaking of Ozaki, he should check his phone and see if she's messaged him at all. She hasn't, but her girlfriend Yosano has - Chuuya swears the two of them text more than he does with his actual sister. She's sent him a picture of Ozaki, on the living room couch looking fondly down at a large, orange Shiba Inu on her lap. Calamity God and her loyal mistress, she's said.

Chuuya can't help but snort, cheered up by the silly caption. I swear Arahabaki likes Zaki more than me, he replies. After all I do for her (T^T)!

By the time he's gotten his ice cream and headed back down to the beach, it's actually gotten surprisingly sunnier, enough so that Chuuya can shrug off his varsity jacket and toss it on a nearby bench, stretching his arms out to feel the warmth seeping into his bones. The nicer weather doesn't make the beach look much prettier, but he doesn't hate being here as much when it's sunny out, at least.

"I'm back," he announces as he flops back down amongst his friends at their spot on the sandier part of the beach. "f*ckers."

Albatross peers into Chuuya's tub and groans when he sees it properly. "Is that bubblegum again? You're f*cking disgusting, man!"

Chuuya sticks his tongue out childishly. He won't admit that bubblegum isn't actually his favourite flavour and that he only buys it so that his friends won't all try and steal it. At least, it didn't used to be his favourite. He's grown rather fond of it as of late.

The boys are all significantly cheered up by the pleasant change in weather, and soon they're all down by the water skipping stones and kicking around with bare feet, even Iceman and Lippmann, the latter of which who swears he doesn't want to get wet but eventually joins in with the rest of them. More people come by, after a while, lured in by the newly sunny Sunday skies. Chuuya feels a little silly, playing around in the water while nearby there's a family with a six year old doing the same thing, but it's whatever, honestly. He's only just turned sixteen, it's not that embarrassing. If anyone's embarrassing, it's Doc and Iceman, who are getting way too into a game of catch with a bust tennis ball they found in the shallows. They're a whole seventeen years old, but don't even seem to care about the odd looks they're getting at all.

Iceman always comes out of his shell around Doc more than anyone else. They were childhood best friends the same way that Albatross and Chuuya were. Sometimes Lippmann and Piano Man complain about being the odd ones out of the ground, before Chuuya reminds them that they're at least lucky that their central group of friends only consists of six people and there isn't an uneven number, leaving somebody with no-one to complain about being left out with.

They've got more friends at school, of course, but they've been the closest for a long time. Lippmann even came up with a name for them, a couple years ago, after they'd known each other for a few months and had become more or less inseparable. "The Flags," he had told them proudly. "It's a reference to how the ancient Romans raised a flag to let the people know that they were unified and thriving, just like all of us! Isn't that super cool?"

Everyone had promptly called Lippmann a nerd and told him that he needed to drop Ancient History as a subject before he got any deeper into all this, but they accepted the name anyway.

Chuuya snaps out of his thoughts just in time to find a camera being shoved in his face.

"Get off, asshole," he snaps, on reflex. He pushes the thing away from him, but gently - he knows how expensive it was. "What are you even filming? I'm not doing anything interesting."

Behind the camera, Lippmann grins.

"It's just a cool shot," he says. He lowers his Canon, twisting the lens with a look of pure concentration. "You're going to be my star, Chuuya, whether you like it or not."

He huffs and flips the camera off. "I don't wanna be your f*cking star. Make Albatross the star. He loves being the centre of attention."

Albatross strikes a cheesy pose, flashing peace signs. "Film me, Lippmann. I appreciate your movie."

"Film me," Piano Man says. "I wanna be famous."

Him and Albatross dance at the edge of the water, and Lippmann laughs before raising his camera again. "I'm not sure where I'll fit this one in, but I'll manage."

Lippmann wants to be a filmmaker one day, he's always claiming. One who will direct and star in his own films. He's been trying to get it started for years, to no avail. Now that he's got this fancy new camera, however, he's been given the confidence to enter this awesome short film competition to try and win a twenty thousand yen prize. He doesn't know exactly what he's going to make his movie about yet, he says, so he's just filming whatever he can, trying to build inspiration. This has been going on for the last week, and Chuuya can't see it stopping anytime soon.

Well, it makes him happy. And Lippmann's joy is so infectious. He even manages to get Iceman to have a laugh sometimes.

"You're gonna have to get your sh*t together and figure out what you're making your film about soon," Chuuya tells the boy, despite this. "You're garbage with deadlines. And we're not gonna keep reminding you."

"Of course we will," Doc says, waving a dismissive hand. "He's got until the start of July anyway."

Piano Man frowns. "That is only, like, three weeks."

"Four," Lippmann corrects. He tosses a stone across the water. "Plenty of time. Although it is a shame that I won't be able to get any shots of EdPoe's summer break bash. I'll have to have submitted my project by then."

Albatross suddenly pauses his efforts to try and knock Chuuya's ice cream tub out of his hands while he thinks he's not looking and makes a face of pure, dramatic shock.

"EdPoe's having a summer break bash?" he yowls, eyes bulging out of their sockets.

He says this in the same tone that one might say, my dog's just been murdered?!

Doc and Lippmann exchange looks. "Uh, yeah," the latter informs him. "We've talked about this. Ranpo got us all an invite."

Albatross continues to look completely dumbfounded.

"How did I not know that we were invited to an EdPoe party?" he screeches. It draws the attention of a few passersby, who Iceman shoots dirty looks at until they glance away. "When did this happen? And why would Ranpo invite us? Does he know you guys are all total losers? Has someone let him know?"

Chuuya kicks him in the side before flopping back against the ground. "We definitely told you this, man. Remember, we found out Ranpo and Yosano are cousins and he said he'd get EdPoe to get us an invite because he thinks my sister is cool?"

Albatross's jaw drops. "You're lying."

Doc snickers, and reaches out to pet the bewildered boy's head. "It's ok, Albatross," he says sympathetically. "There's nothing wrong with being out of the loop."

EdPoe, real name Edgar Allen Poe, is a kid in the year above Doc and Iceman's who is insanely rich and insanely popular because of it. Despite this, he's a huge recluse, and even does most of his schooling online. But sometimes, he can be persuaded to host large events by none other than his partner, Ranpo, who manages to befriend just about anyone with ease. He never usually cares who shows up to them, and therefore tends not to send invites to them, per se. So to get one really was a bit crazy. Chuuya thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

Albatross is still stunned. "I don't get it," he says, shaking his head. He's propped his sunglasses up and is simply staring into the water. "So when was all this?"

"Last week," Piano Man informs him, cracking a grin. "When you were stuck in the lunch line."

At this, Albatross lets out a long, drawn out groan and palms his face. "Oh, f*ck that! It's not - That's so dumb! It's not my fault that the Technology department is five hundred miles away from the cafeteria, of course I would have - Augh! f*ck that!"

Everyone has a laugh at Albatross's despair, even Iceman. "Poor Tross," Chuuya snickers, licking the last of his ice cream off the wooden spoon. "Imagine taking Mechanics. Couldn't be me."

"Imagine taking Physics," the boy shoots back, an exaggerated sneer on his face. "Literally so cringe. You're going to regret this all year long."

Chuuya raises an eyebrow, and Albatross gives up and lies back on the ground. "So unfair," he whines. "You'll all take Drama for Lippmann but not Mechanics for me?"

"To be fair," Doc chimes in, looking far too delighted at the situation. "Drama is an easy pass."

Albatross stares at him like he's grown a second head. "You're studying to go to med school."

"Yes," Doc replies, smiling easily. "That's why I will need the easy pass. Besides, Lippmann is the only one of you that I can stand to share classes with. Apart from Iceman, of course."

"f*ck you," Albatross says, after a moment of clearly trying to think of a good comeback and coming up with nothing. "You suck."

Doc nods seriously. "Good one."

Albatross punches his arm, but not nearly as roughly as he would with any of the others. Doc bruises very easily, like a peach. He could probably blow away if too strong a wind hit. "Whatever. Anyway, where's this party? His place? I've heard about the ones he's had at his place in the past - apparently it's like a mansion." He sighs. "I'm still devastated that my mom wouldn't let me go to that last one. Apparently Kunikida Doppo pushed Fyodor Dostoyevsky in his pool."

"Yeah, we all know about that, Tross," Lippmann says. He sits down beside them, leaning on one open palm. He really is effortlessly good looking, to the point where it's unfair. "That's why Kunikida got transferred. 'Cause Dostoyevsky threatened to sue his parents, saying that if his anemia had kicked in he could have died. Huh! I wish. Can't believe we lost such a legend on the basis of a hypothetical."

"Kunikida wasn't a legend," Chuuya mutters. "He was a nerdy loser. Like Doc. Punching a teacher once doesn't make someone cool. I've punched two teachers."

"Having anger management issues doesn't make you cool either, Chuuya."

Chuuya ignores Piano Man's sly comment and answers Albatross's original question. "You won't believe it when I say it, but the party's actually gonna be here."

He points down at the ground. Albatross scrunches up his face. "Wha -?"

Lippmann, looking bored without anything new to film, yawns. "Yeah, he, like, rented out the whole beach so he can have a bonfire and sh*t. I dunno why he chose this sh*thole. Who gives a crap anyway. Ice- maaan, can we leave? I'm sick of sitting on these sharp f*cking stones, my ass hurts."

They all know after years of friendship that Lippmann only starts excessively cursing when he's getting crabby, so they all agree to pack it up and leave before it starts getting cold again.

Albatross doesn't shut up for the whole time they're gathering their things and heading to Iceman's car, still going on and on about the party invite. "It feels like that moment when Nick went to Gatsby's party and he was the only one there with an actual invite. You get what I'm talking about, right, Lippmann? You care about old American literature. See, it's even crazier because EdPoe is, like, a rich recluse as well. Which one of us do you think is gonna crash a car and kill someone's mistress?"

"I can promise you," Lippmann replies dryly. "Some rich high school kid inviting us to a beach party because his boyfriend's cousin is dating Chuuya's sister doesn't make us anything like Nick Carraway. Also, when did you even read that book? You hate old books. You claimed you were genuinely allergic to reading Fires on the Plain when you were assigned it last year and kept faking sicknesses every time you had Literature class."

Albatross pouts. "I hate books about war. They're dull as sh*t. I read The Great Gatsby because you said you liked it, dickhe*d, so I don't wanna hear you say sh*t, alright!"

Lippmann gasps, a hand flying to cover his mouth. "Aww! Albatross supports my interests!"

Chuuya decides to put his headphones in and ignore them as they go back and forth for the whole drive, positively squished into the window. Iceman's car isn't really big enough for the six of them, but they make it work. It is annoying, though, having no personal space, so Chuuya just blocks everybody out and pretends he's sleeping as they fly along the roads, the sun beaming down through the window.

Frankly, he's socially burned out. He loves his friends, and wants to hang out with them as much as possible, but they're always so loud and sometimes all Chuuya wants is some damn silence. Also, Albatross bringing up the beach party again and again has installed a sense of vague dread in Chuuya's chest. He's not looking forward to it nearly as much as the rest of the group is. He's bad with talking to people he doesn't already know, and his social battery is on a constant low, so he knows he's not gonna have as much fun as everyone else. But he doesn't want to be a bummer, so he keeps to himself about it.

Chuuya's been stressing about the end of the school year way more as of late. There's no real reason for it. Ozaki sometimes tells him he's like a fifty year old man in a sixteen year old's body, always grumpy and complaining about ridiculous things. He's never found that joke funny.

Fortunately, his house is the first one along the way, so he gets to be free of the smothering heat of Iceman's beat up Volkswagen way quicker than everyone else. They all lean out the windows, waving and shouting their goodbyes dramatically like he's going off to war or something. All he can do is roll his eyes. "You people are insane," he says. He's very conscious of the eyes he can feel piercing into his back from the house behind him. "I'll see you all at school tomorrow."

"Whatever, loser," Albatross says, flipping him off with both hands. "See you. Sorry about embarrassing you today, except I'm not really."

"Yeah," says Chuuya flatly, "I know you're not."

Regardless of this statement, he reaches out and rubs his knuckles rapidly across Albatross's skull, yanking strands of hair out of his braid.

While he's yowling, Iceman leans out the window. "Text us to let you know you got home safe," he says, in a completely serious tone.

The other boys all laugh as they pull out the driveway and Chuuya sighs, walking up the steps to his house.

"I'm home," he calls when he steps inside, as though the occupant don't already know he's there. "Alive and well, just like every other time I go out with my friends."

He's shrugging off his coat and shoes when another person walks in, lips pouted in a look of concern.

"I'm allowed to be worried about you, you know," she says, chin pointed to the sky. "You certainly give me enough reason to."

Chuuya snickers, finally pattering across the kitchen floor to meet his sister in the middle. "Yeah, I know," he says with a grin. "Love you, Zaki."

Chuuya's older sister is, frankly, one of the most intimidating people he knows, or would be if he hadn't seen her cry over videos of straggly kittens that were abandoned in boxes at the sides of roads before. She's the picture of elegance, a compliment that she absolutely hates but is entirely true. Her hair is much longer than Chuuya's, and has always been kept neater, too, pinned up with pretty hairpins. She inherited their fathers brown eyes, while Chuuya got a mismatch of blue and brown from each parent. Most irritatingly, she's extremely tall. And so are both their parents. In fact, everyone in their family is at least over five foot ten. Except him, of course.

A fact he will not stop resenting until he grows a little.

Behind Ozaki patters a large dog, waddling on little legs and panting happily. Chuuya bends down to pet her as she goes on her way to her food bowl. "Hi, Baki. Missed you too."

Chuuya sets about preparing something to eat for dinner, humming to himself as he does so. Ozaki dithers in the corner, watching him do this. "I was planning to make something," she tells him. "Gyūdon. I just got distracted with my studying."

He lets out a laugh at that. "Oh, I'm sure, with Yosano here -"

"Quit that," she snaps, and finally walks over to the table to sit down. "Be appropriate, for goodness sake. And you know you can call her Akiko. She's certainly asked you enough times."

Chuuya winces. "Yeah. It just feels weird. Calling my writing tutor by her first name."

Ozaki lets out a loud huff. He's sure she's blushing, embarrassed at her unprofessionalism. He can't help but crack a smile.

"I don't mind making dinner," he tells her, shooting her a fond smile. "I'm not super hungry anyway, I wasn't gonna eat too much."

He sets about making a sandwich, because he can't be bothered with much more than that. Ozaki doesn't seem to be doing much of anything, just sitting and staring away at all the wall. She does this sometimes, when she's working up the nerve to say something that she doesn't want to. Sure enough, five minutes later, as Chuuya is cutting his sandwich in half, she speaks up.

"Your friend's car doesn't look safe," she says.

Chuuya rolls his eyes while she's not looking. "It's not that old, and Iceman gets it checked up every few weeks. He's literally the most cautious one out of all of us. I'm frankly grateful it's him and not Tross who has a car, although I'm sure that'll change when he turns sixteen in a couple months. God help us all then."

Ozaki chuckles. "Oh, I don't even want to think about that boy on the roads. But his parents are lovely people, I trust they'll teach him well."

"Yeah, for sure," Chuuya says with a grin. "And you know Iceman too, kind of. You said he looked responsible."

Ozaki makes a face. "I suppose. Ugh. I guess I trust your judgement."

"How kind of you," Chuuya says in a dramatic tone, twirling his hands in front of him. "I will not let you down, dear sister."

He prepares to head up to his room. Ozaki sighs, tugging at her hoodie sleeves, and then follows him out the kitchen.

"Don't leave that plate in your room," she warns.

"I won't! I never do!"

"You do sometimes, and you always conveniently bring them down when it's my dishes day -"

"Hey! What are you accusing me of?"

"Oh, nothing. Sleep early, you've got school."

"So do you. So how about you sleep early, huh! Yeah, that's what I thought!"

They part ways and head into their separate rooms with smiles on their faces.

It's two am, just as Chuuya's about to head to bed - he should have slept earlier, Ozaki was right - when he realizes.

He left his stupid jacket on the f*cking beach.

This is annoying for an infinite amount of reasons, one being that he is for sure going to have to go back for it. The particular jacket he was wearing is special, an expensive Versace one that Yosano had gotten him for his sixteenth birthday. Ozaki would kill him if she found out that he'd lost it. So he has no choice but to heave himself out of his bed with a series of irritated grunts and get dressed, preparing to sneak out and take his bike back down to the beach to grab it.

His phone's basically dead, as he'd been planning to charge it overnight, so he has to grab an old fashioned flashlight so he'll be able to see. Once he's prepared, he slides open his window and slips out, clinging to the drain for dear life and then yanking his window down as much as it will go with the small block that Chuuya left in the sill keeping it from entirely closing. Then he shimmies down and lands perfectly in the grass. This is a routine he's fairly used to. Chuuya's sure he snuck out his window more times than he's gone out the front door.

Ozaki's sure to be asleep and won't wake until about seven, so he didn't bother making a pillow mould of himself. It wouldn't have fooled her anyway. He used to do that, back when he was a bit dumber and a bit more careless, and of course he'd gotten caught. But Ozaki had been less angry at him for sneaking out than she had been at him for thinking she was dumb enough to fall for a sleeping dummy. He hasn't tried it since then.

With fumbling fingers, he unlocks his bike and props the flashlight at the front before beginning to pedal down the roads at a much quicker pace than he ordinarily would. He's tired, and he wants to get this over with as quickly as possible before heading home. The thought of going to school tomorrow as exhausted as he is now spurs him on, and he finds himself at the beach in record time, pulled up at the gates and staring across the water.

He drops the bike and prepares to climb the fence. They have to lock this place at night in case of idiots having unauthorized bonfires or dumb teens going skinny dipping while drunk, but they're not allowed to electrocute the fence or anything, so Chuuya hops over easily. He nearly twists his ankle, but manages to stick the landing, so he walks it off.

This place is kind of terrifying in the pitch black with no people around. He feels like the dumb blonde in the cold open of every horror movie he's ever seen, he thinks as he picks his way across the rocks, trying to avoid stepping on any jellyfish and falling on his ass. His senses are on high alert, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, and now he's really wishing he had told someone he was coming out here in case he gets, like, brutally murdered. Not that he thinks that will happen. But the second the thought crosses his mind, it sticks, and now he's walking a little quicker, anxiety stirring in his chest.

Luckily, he finds his jacket on the bench where he left it with no trouble. It's draped over the back and covered in damp sand, which makes him think that someone knocked it off but then kindly left it for him to find, which he appreciates. If he had lost it, he doesn't even know what he'd do. He'd have to manifest some story to Ozaki where he got jumped by a gang with knives in an alleyway or something - but then he would have had to come up with an explanation for why they didn't take his phone or wallet. That is a difficult one.

Chuuya's making his way back to the fence and wondering to himself why he's thinking so in depth about this when he found his jacket, when he hears a sound from the water.

Instantly, his mind goes to the movie Jaws. Every kid his age has seen Jaws. In the cold open of that movie, there are two teens on a beach and one of them gets eaten by a great white shark that's taken up the area as a hunting ground.

Of course, sense immediately returns to Chuuya as he remembers that he lives in Yokohama, Japan and he's pretty sure there are no sharks living around here, and that whatever's making the noise is much more likely to be a murderer, stalking for unassuming kids on a late night.

Which helps quell his anxiety to a minimum. Definitely.

He's not planning to get any closer. But then the sounds of splashing continue, and the more Chuuya listens, the more it sounds like a struggle. Heart pounding in his ears, he makes the decision to take a few steps down towards the water and flick his flashlight in the direction of the noises, just to see what's up. If someone's being murdered, he thinks he can run fast enough to avoid being next. Being friends with Albatross has made it so that Chuuya's skills in running away from things like cops or angry storekeepers have been greatly improved over the years.

However, whatever he's expecting to see isn't what he finds.

There is a person in the water. Just one. But it's - a kid. And not only that, but as Chuuya walks closer, pace quickening now that he knows it's not a threat, he recognizes - it's the kid. The one from earlier, with the eyepatch and the bandages. They're halfway into the ocean, water rippling around their waist, and they're staring at Chuuya with a singular large eye, such a dark brown that it looks black in the light. Their sleeves are rolled up, revealing even more swathes of bandages, wrapped up their entire forearm and probably far beyond.

For a long moment, they just stare at each other like deer in each other's headlights.

Chuuya is the one to break the silence when he shouts - "What the f*ck are you doing?"

The kid doesn't say anything for a second, and then they break into an inexplicably large grin, as though what's happening is just some large joke. "Hey," they say, and their voice is extremely hoarse, like they haven't spoken in a long while. "You're the guy from earlier. The one who thinks I'm cool."

Despite the situation, Chuuya finds himself flushing. "What - I didn't even - Who f*cking cares! The hell do you think you're doing, huh? You scared the sh*t out of me! Get the f*ck out of the water, you're gonna drown or slip and crack your head open!" He waves the flashlight impatiently, waiting for the kid to move. All they do is smile wider, which instantly gets on Chuuya's nerves. "What's your deal, huh, are you trying to f*cking kill yourself or something?"

The kid just stares, smile glued in place, hands trailing absently through the water.

Cold understanding hits Chuuya like a truck. "Jesus," he breathes, "you are trying to kill yourself, aren't you?"

They only shrug, looking for all the world bored of the situation. "What's it to you if I am?" they ask, tilting their head. Dark waves fall into their face, choppy and damp. "You can pretend you were never here. There aren't any cameras."

It's spooky that they know this, and speak it with such confidence. Chuuya's blood is pumping through him so fast that he's scared for a second that he might be having an actual heart attack. "f*ck's sake," he manages to spit, trying to keep the hand that's holding the flashlight from visibly shaking. "I'm not gonna just - leave when I know there's someone here about to die! Don't you care at all about whoever's gonna find you here? It could be a f*cking kid or something, you'll be scarring them for life!"

Again, the kid shrugs, gaze darkening. "This beach is closed tomorrow," they say. "There's a group of community service members coming through to pick up trash, so it's closed until five. There won't be any kids there. Besides, school's are on tomorrow, too." They taps their temple, oblivious to Chuuya's horrified expression. "I've thought this out."

"But - But," Chuuya tries protesting. Against his better judgement, he takes a couple small steps forward. His shoes splash into the shallows of the water. "You're still gonna be leaving your f*cking body here to traumatize whoever stumbles across you! Does that not matter to you? That you'll be hurting people?"

"Death is inherently a traumatic event," the kid says, as eloquently as though they were older than Chuuya and don't look possibly even younger. "No matter how I died, whether I killed myself or not, people would inevitably get caught in the crossfire. Someone would have to find my body eventually, unless I threw myself into a volcano or disintegrated in some kind of large explosion, which are hard to come by naturally." The thought of this seems to make them laugh, eyes thinning despite the lack of amusem*nt in their voice. "There's no way to die without harming others. I'm just choosing to do it this way because it's easier."

Chuuya is in shock. How can someone so young have opinions like that? What the f*ck is wrong with this kid? His chest tightens painfully, and he wracks his brain, trying to think of something to say that might stop this from happening. He can't go home tonight knowing that some kid threw themself in the ocean and died and he didn't do anything to even try and prevent it.

"What about your friends and family?" he snaps, desperation heating him up from the inside. He takes another step into the water. It laps at his ankles, now. "Surely you've got someone out there who'd want you not to do this. Do you have parents or siblings or, like, even a pet dog or something? You know a dog won't even know you've died? It'll just sit at the door and wait for you, not knowing why you're not coming home! I've seen movies like that!"

He's rambling now, for sure, but he's really scared, not that he'd openly admit it to anyone. The thought that he might have to watch someone die, right in front of him, makes him feel sick to his stomach.

The kid's lips turn up even further at his words. A small spark of light enters their eyes. They still don't make any moves to get out of the water, but they look less like they're about to turn around and jump fully in, which is a start. However, Chuuya doesn't let down his guard. Fear is still prickling at his gut, painful and unrelenting.

It's a long moment before they say a word.

"I don't have siblings, or a dog," they tell him. "The only person who cared if I lived or died killed himself a few days ago. So that's a no on friends and family. Sorry."

Chuuya feels positively dizzy. "So what?" he shouts. "You're trying to follow him into death, is that it? Like a coward? This guy cared about you and you're gonna - throw that away?"

Their lip curls. "I am still a stranger to you, you know," they drawl. "A stranger standing at the edge of a cliff, essentially. It's not nice to call me a coward."

"Suicide is cowardly," Chuuya snaps. "I don't care if your friend or whatever did it or not, it's not my business -"

"None of this is your business, really -"

"- This is f*cking pathetic!" That's how Chuuya chooses to finish that sentence. And he means it, too. He takes another step. "Is this really how you wanna die, man? Drowning all alone, with no one to remember you, for your body to get manhandled and poked with sticks by a bunch of ex-cons in the morning after you're all bloated with water and covered in jellyfish goop?"

He has to take a large, shaky breath after that, his emotions having gotten the better of him. He's horrified to find his eyes are prickling with tears. Ozaki always told him he's too much of an empath. Of course, he thinks bitterly, of course he'd come out here to grab a forgotten jacket and find himself talking a stranger down from suicide. Only he could find himself in a situation like this. Only him.

For a good few seconds, there's silence.

"Get out the damn water," Chuuya eventually mutters. One more definitive step, and the bottom of his jeans are soaked, leaving him about a foot away from the kid. In the glow of the flashlight, he can see the scratch marks on their face, a couple small moles under their bottom lip, dark circles under their visible eye. They look like they haven't slept in weeks.

Finally, they shrug. "Yeah," they say. "I'd pretty much made my decision to postpone this the second you saw me. I just wanted to see what you'd say to try and talk me down."

The fear in Chuuya's chest vanishes, instantly replaced by a burning sense of pure anger. "You -"

But even as the kid laughs, their first step forward to get out the water lands wrong and they slip and they're flying backwards into the deeper end of the water almost faster than Chuuya can react -

Almost faster. Because Chuuya manages to shoot his hands outwards and grab onto the kid's arm, damp fingers wrapping around the soft material of their bandages, and pull as hard as he can to keep them from losing balance. They stop mid fall, inches away from plunging fully beneath the water, and with a little help, manage to get back in a standing position. They're shivering harshly from the cold as Chuuya drags them out the water and onto the safety of land, arms wrapped around themself. That dumb pinstripe shirt of theirs is so thin that Chuuya can see the outline of the vest they're wearing underneath.

Without thinking, he shakes off the jacket that he came here for and wraps it around the other's shoulders. They're bigger than he is, so it doesn't quite fit. Nevertheless, the way they stare at Chuuya afterwards with that moon-like eye makes him feel embarrassed, so he steps back and huffs loudly, teeth gritted together. "There! Now you probably won't die of hypothermia! I'm sure you're unhappy about that!"

Surprisingly, the kid shakes their head. When they grin, they reveal white braces, almost invisible if he didn't look too close. "No, I've researched hypothermia as a means of dying before. It seems really drawn out and painful. Besides, it'd be difficult to contract unless I had a large freezer I could lock myself in somewhere, and that's just too much work." Their eye thins further as they laugh softly. "I'd prefer to kill myself in a way that requires very little effort and doesn't get too complicated. That's why I decided to give up just now. I don't want some stranger to go home thinking they could have stopped me if I died."

Chuuya practically snarls, irritated by this sentiment. "So what now? You're just gonna go home and kill yourself there, then? After I went to all that work and got myself f*cking soaked, too!"

They giggle, clutching the front of Chuuya's jacket and pulling it closer around themself. They're really shaking. "W-well, you didn't have to do that," they say, shaking their head. "You must just be a regular Superman, swooping in to save me! Am I your little Lois Lane?"

Chuuya reaches out and grabs their arm. The kid winces at the pressure against whatever's under their bandages, but he doesn't let up. He's furious, frankly, and he hates feeling like he's being mocked. This whole situation feels like one big prank. He wishes he'd just kept walking, now, and let this asshole throw themself into the sea all he wished.

"Listen, punk," he says loudly, leaning in close so none of his words get lost in the sound of the sea. The other kid's eye is locked on his as they listen intently, which makes him feel a little uncomfortable despite wanting the attention. "This isn't a f*cking joke, and it's certainly not funny. I stopped to try and help you because that's what any good person would f*cking do, alright? But if you wanna go home and off yourself, that's fine by me. I don't have to see it or deal with the damn repercussions. So you do what you want, and I'm gonna go home and go to f*cking sleep like I've wanted to do all evening. Got that?"

To his surprise, the kid simply nods. Their cheeks are unnaturally red, and Chuuya can see the way they sway, clearly dead on their feet. All the arrogance they'd displayed in the water has pretty much dissipated, leaving them quiet and subdued. Chuuya feels his anger melt away, despite himself. It's not easy to be angry at a kid who just tried to drown themself.

"I ought to take you to hospital," he mutters, more to himself than anything. "You look like absolute sh*t."

The kid jolts at this, suddenly wide awake. "No, no, there's no need for that," they say loudly, letting out a strangled laugh. They pull away from Chuuya, even though it's clearly difficult for them to stand on their own, cold and waterlogged as they are. "I wouldn't want to trouble you any more than necessary. I don't need to hear more of your whiny complaints."

Chuuya ignores their obvious attempt to bait him into getting angry again and cranes his neck, trying to find another way to get the kid off this beach without having to go over the fence. He doesn't know if they can make it. "I'm definitely taking you to hospital," he decides, and turns to grab their wrist tightly. The kid gasps at the contact, and Chuuya loosens his grip. "It gets f*cking freezing this time of night out here, and you're clearly completely out of it -"

"I'm not," they suddenly interrupt, and pull themself out of Chuuya's grip. When he looks up, their eye is wide and full of something that looks close to panic. "Look, you can't - you can't take me to hospital. I can't be there. They'll - call my dad."

Chuuya gathers from the way they say this that their dad being called isn't the ideal solution. He still asks anyway. "What's wrong with that?"

The kid flinches, then laughs without humour. "I've run away. If you take me to hospital, he'll find me and take me back. I promise you, you don't need to worry about me now." They meet Chuuya's eyes. "I won't kill myself tonight, if that makes you feel any better."

It doesn't. "Why'd you run away?" Chuuya asks, because he doesn't know when to shut up. "And where are you going now, if you're not living with your dad? You look, like, my age. Surely you're not living on your own."

There's no reply apart from the scathing curl of the kid's lip.

Chuuya furrows his eyebrows. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen," replies the other kid, without much pause. "Sixteen in a few weeks."

"Right," Chuuya says, and thinks. Gnawing at his bottom lip as he does so, a bad habit Ozaki's tried to force him out of many a time. "Where are you living now? I have a bike, but it's big enough for two people. I can take you there. Give myself some peace of mind."

Again, no reply. Except for the way the other's eye drops to the floor, their expression suddenly neatly smoothed out so it can't be read. Chuuya realizes quickly. "You don't have anywhere to stay?"

The kid lets out a soft breath, suddenly looking smaller than before despite being taller than Chuuya. "I did plan everything out before I ran away," they say, sounding vaguely embarrassed, like they think Chuuya will make fun of them for it. "But then the person I was going to stay with after I left killed himself, and I figured I wasn't gonna stick around much longer, either. You don't need accommodations when you're dead."

Chuuya hears all of this, a thoughtful look forming on his face as he listens intently, and then he decides something. Completely out of the blue, as always. Chuuya has always been a terrible decision maker. He does whatever he fancies with no thought spared for repercussions - it's just easier. And it makes saying this easier, too, possibly the easiest thing he's ever done even despite the way this kid had played him and made him out to be a fool. He doesn't know why he cares. It's just impulse, to say what he says next.

"Stay with me tonight, then."

The other kid looks at him like he's f*cking insane, which maybe he is.

"You don't even know me," they say. Dumbfounded. "This could have all been a ploy to rob you for all you know."

Chuuya snorts, throwing up his hands. "I'd love to see you try and find anything of value anywhere in my house. We're poor as sh*t, to be f*cking honest. I'm telling you now, I wouldn't waste my time."

Their expression morphs strangely, lips pressed together as if deep in thought. "What about your parents?" they ask. "Surely they won't be ok with you taking in some random kid off the street to sleep in their home."

At this, Chuuya lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Trust me when I say my parents will be no problem," he says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "I have an older sister, but she'll be easy to handle. No one is gonna notice or care. Besides, I'm not leaving you here to sleep on the streets. I don't wanna be responsible for a news story on some homeless kid who got murdered. It's either my house or the hospital."

They stiffen, looking everywhere but at his face. "Huh… well, when you put it like that, I suppose I don't have a choice, do I?"

A grin breaks out on their face as they say this last part, a flash of something that looks like relief crossing them. Chuuya sags, grateful that this didn't take more effort than he'd worried it would. He isn't sure he would have had the energy to argue with this bastard all night if they'd refused.

"Great," he says dryly, and turns around to leave. "Well, let's go, then. You might have to climb the fence, I dunno any other way through."

The kid whoops, acting for all the world as though they hadn't been about to kill themself five minutes ago. "What an adventure this will be!" they say, practically skipping as he matches Chuuya's stride with ease. "Bunking with the world's smallest barking chibi dog!"

"Hah?" Chuuya cries, stopping in his tracks and whipping around to meet the other's face. They look delighted, much more alive than they did previously. "I'm not that small! I'm four foot eleven! I'll grow more, I'm only just sixteen! And I'm not a dog, either! I'm a f*cking person, dipsh*t!"

The other laughs, knocking into his side. "A tiny one, yes! And what else am I supposed to call you, again? I don't even know your name."

Oh. f*ck, that's true. Chuuya's offering to let someone stay in his home without them even knowing the most basic information that there is to know about a person from each other. Ozaki would smack him around the head for this, and he would definitely deserve it, too.

"Huh," he grunts, shoving his hands in his jeans pocket and setting off again. His trainers squelch as he walks. "I'm Nakahara Chuuya. Guess you ought to know that much."

The kid seems delighted by the information. "Nakahara Chuuya," they repeat, although the way they say it makes Chuuya shiver, for some reason. They speak the words as though they're precious, which is weird and he must be imagining it, so he pushes the thought out his mind. "That's nice. A perfect name for a shorty like you."

Chuuya's certain that they would have said that regardless of what he'd told them his name was.

"And you?" he asks roughly. "You got a name, or am I supposed to call you "Weird Kid" forever?"

They startle, like they hadn't expected to be asked the question in return.

"Oh," they say. "I'm Dazai Osamu."

Osamu. Chuuya turns the name over and over in his head, and then realizes he's going to have to just grit his teeth and ask the question that's been plaguing his mind outright.

"Are you a boy or a girl?" he blurts.

Dazai's eye widens, as does the grin on their face. "Haha!" they cry, sounding pleased. "Is it really hard to tell?"

Chuuya rolls his eyes, grateful it's dark and they probably can't see the flush of his face. "I dunno, you're pretty androgynous, I guess!"

This seems to satisfy them, enough for them to stop flapping their hands at their side and answer. "I'm a boy. Hee-hee, it's so much fun being confusing. Chuuya, do you want to see me do a cartwheel? I suddenly feel like I've gained so much energy!"

"Hell no," Chuuya says firmly, and reaches out to take Dazai's wrist again to keep him on track. He seems to be all over the place. Chuuya wonders if he's bipolar or something or if he's judging that off of a stereotype. "I'm not carrying you if you pass out. You're gonna have to hold onto me when we get on the bike, so save your damn energy."

Dazai smiles again, but it looks slightly pained this time. "Can Chuuya let go of my wrist?" he chirps. "It hurts. I can walk by myself, anyway."

Chuuya obliges, taking another curious look down at Dazai's bandages as he does so. What's underneath them is probably obvious at this point, but it's also not his business, so he won't bring it up. This situation is weird enough. Already, he's cycling through increasingly more elaborate ways to explain this to Ozaki. He figures a hey, dear sister, I picked up a homeless kid who was running away from his dad off the streets when I found him trying to kill himself and now I'm keeping him in my bedroom won't be good enough.

His cheeks redden when he realizes that the boy will definitely have to sleep in his bedroom if he's really going through with this.

It's probably too late to back out now, so Chuuya hurries onwards. "We gotta climb the fence, now," he says, and helps Dazai clamber over. He doesn't act like he's ever even climbed a fence before. His shirt has a rip in the shoulder by the time he's across to the other side, and he's breathing rather heavily. Chuuya hops over in a second, secretly pleased with the impressed look he gets from Dazai. He has to fight the urge to preen.

"That's your bike?" Dazai says, shattering Chuuya's good mood instantly. He looks wary, lip curled as he stares. "Is it purposely intended to be a deathtrap? Is this going to be a double suicide? I've always wanted to find a pretty girl who'd kill herself with me, but you don't quite fit the bill, I don't think."

Chuuya ignores this last part, pushing down the rush of annoyed anger. "It's a good bike, dipsh*t. I don't wanna hear complaints from a guy in a pinstripe shirt." He props the bike up and climbs on before looking back at Dazai. He looks just as unconvinced, face scrunched up. Chuuya groans. "Get on. I'm tired, I don't have all night to wait for you."

It takes a moment, and a lot of whining, but Dazai does eventually get on with Chuuya. He's wet and cold against Chuuya's back, even through the jacket that he'd given him. Chuuya shivers, and Dazai giggles, even as he tightens his arms around Chuuya's waist like a seatbelt.

This is weird. Chuuya should kick this guy off and bike as fast as he can, away from this whole situation, and then never come to this beach again, EdPoe party be damned.

But he takes a deep breath. "Ready?"

"Yeah," comes the soft reply. "Can we make a quick stop, though? Really, really quick. I'll guide you."

Chuuya grits his teeth, eyes screwed up, and then relaxes. "Fine. Whatever. Just - don't get us thrown off this thing. Just because you wanna die doesn't mean I don't have sh*t to live for."

And then he sets off. They're unsteady at first, but then they even out, and soon they're flying down the roads at fairly ordinary speeds. Chuuya's flashlight is still propped clumsily at the front of the bike, although he irritatingly notices that it's starting to get light out anyway. Whatever. Maybe he can plead sick and get out of school tomorrow so he can catch up on some damn sleep.

Dazai clings to him tightly and knocks the side of his face against his back, causing Chuuya's chest to tighten. This was definitely a bad decision. He gets the feeling he's one hundred percent going to regret doing this.

But he's doing it anyway, so might as well get it over with.

Chapter 2: then i know the twilight skies are not so broken hearted

Chapter Text

The place that Dazai wants to make a stop at turns out to be Yokohama's shipyard.

"You know, I have lived here all my life," Chuuya grumbles as he searches for a place to drop his bike. The ground here is wet and slippery and he's scared they'll topple over. "I know where things are. You could have just told me to come here."

He hears Dazai laugh. "Well, I didn't know that, did I?"

Eventually they find a place to stop and get off safely. The sky is getting lighter, revealing tens of rusty shipping containers stacked around the place in what looks like no specific order. It reeks, badly, of rotting fish and mold. Already, Chuuya's getting lightheaded. "Why did you wanna come here?" he asks, wrinkling his nose and clamping his sleeve over it. "It's disgusting. You're not gonna kill me here, are ya?"

Dazai doesn't seem eager to answer. He wanders around as if he's looking for something, eyes darting in every direction. Eventually he seems to find what he's searching for and marches towards it with purpose. Chuuya follows, too tired to whine about how annoyed he is like he ordinarily might. Between the smell and his lack of sleep, it's a surprise that he's still conscious.

They end up heading towards a red metal container that has the number 42 in bold lettering on the side. Dazai is attempting to wrench the doors open, but his time in the water has clearly had an effect on him too, and he's struggling. Chuuya drags his feet on his way to go help him, gritting his teeth in disgust at the feeling of the rusty door against his fingers.

"You surely aren't keeping anything here, are you?" Chuuya asks, despite the answer being obvious. "f*ck, it stinks. I'm seriously gonna pass out."

Despite this declaration, he takes a curious glance inside the shipping container to see what Dazai has inside. He isn't sure what to expect. But, as it turns out, all that's in there is a couple of small travel bags and a black backpack that looks full to bursting. Dazai steps inside, the floor creaking beneath his feet, and grabs one of the bags to sling over his shoulder.

"This one's got my clothes and stuff," he explains, shrugging as Chuuya watches him. "So you don't have to lend me anything. I've also got my Switch, my DS, and my Gameboy. It's literally impossible for me to get bored."

Chuuya's eyes flicker down to the other two bags, still lying on the disgustingly dirty floor. "What's in those, then?"

Dazai follows his gaze, expression flat. "Some more clothes. Some books. Just some stuff that I didn't wanna leave behind." He faces the front again, preparing to leave. "I'm lucky that I was able to take any luxuries at all, if that's what those count as. I thought I was gonna have to abandon some of this stuff before."

For some reason, this makes Chuuya's chest tighten with more weird anxiety. "Hey, wait," he says, right before Dazai's about to shut the door behind him. The other boy meets his eyes, mild confusion sparking in them at Chuuya's sudden urgency. He swallows and stares into the empty blackness of the container. "You're not gonna just leave this stuff here, right? Like, it's gross. And there are no locks on these doors. Someone could easily get in here and steal it."

Dazai lets out a snort. "If someone so desperately wants to take my wrinkly clothes and half used bottle of hand soap, so be it. I don't own anything that I care enough about that I'd need to rent, like, a storage locker or something. Besides, I don't have much money, so I couldn't do that anyway."

Chuuya gnaws on his bottom lip. "Why don't you take the rest of your stuff with you?"

"Well, I'm obviously not living with you permanently, am I," Dazai replies. He swings the door shut with a click, this time with no protest from Chuuya. "I'll just come back for stuff when I need it. Unless you're about to tell me that your place is miles away and you just biked back to the beach at three am like a madman for fun."

"No, I live nearby," Chuuya mutters. The skin on his arms is crawling, he feels it. He wants to be out of here immediately. "Come on, if you've gotten what you needed, then let's get going."

They leave the area, the bad smell fading from the air and being replaced with the distinct scent of the sea. Dazai's a bit heavier with his bag on his back, but he manages to keep his balance as he clings to Chuuya tightly and they start rolling through the streets again. It's way lighter out, now. Chuuya doesn't know what time it is, but he has to imagine it's maybe four am. How annoying. But it's his own fault for being too damn empathetic, really, so he can't be mad at anyone but himself.

"My sister will still be sleeping when we get there," Chuuya says to the boy over his shoulder, trying to simultaneously keep an eye on the road. "So as long as you're quiet, she won't even know you're there. If she somehow finds out, I'll just say you're a new friend from school. Speaking of, what school do you go to? I haven't seen you around before."

Dazai snorts. "I'm homeschooled."

Chuuya barely resists rolling his eyes. "Of course you are. So you just don't have anywhere to go during the day then, huh?"

"No-pe," Dazai says, popping the p. They turn a corner a little too harshly, the bike wobbling, and his grip tightens around Chuuya's waist. "I've pretty much just been hanging about at the beach for the last couple days. You're garbage at this, by the way. Did you take your training wheels off recently? I'd advise putting them back on."

The absolute audacity to be mocking his bike riding skills when he's offering this bastard a place to sleep tonight is so insane that for a moment Chuuya can't even speak. When he does, there's nothing short of pure astonishment in his voice. "You know, you really are kind of a piece of sh*t, huh?"

This makes Dazai laugh and knock his chin against Chuuya's back. "Yes! I'm going to make you wish you'd let me kill myself!"

"Jesus! You've got something wrong with you!"

The boy cackles even harder. "You're just realizing?"

Chuuya ought to stop the bike and throw this kid right off. It would serve him right.

But they're actually getting close to Chuuya's house, so he figures it'd just be more trouble than the situation is worth. Besides, this is just a one night thing - he can say goodbye to this weirdo tomorrow, or today if he's getting technical, and not worry about what he does with himself afterwards. Yeah. That sounds like a plan.

"Here we are," Chuuya mutters as he pulls them into the driveway. Ozaki's car is there, parked perfectly on the concrete. There is a big black splodge of paint beside it, faded after having been there for years and years. It was put there by Chuuya's mother after himself and a nine year old Albatross had gotten ahold of his sister's spray paint and written curse words all over until they'd gotten caught. They'd been grounded for weeks. It's a story the two of them still laugh about to this day.

Chuuya swings his legs over the bike and hops off unsteadily. It irritates him slightly that Dazai doesn't seem to struggle a bit, bouncing back onto his feet without even wobbling. "So what now?" the boy says, stretching his arms out in front of him and beaming. "Do your parents know you're out? I would imagine not. I feel like you're the kind of guy who has a very strict bedtime."

He ignores the bait and shoves his hands in his pockets, shivering harshly. Dazai's wet clothes have soaked his back, and it's cold this early in the day, so he can't even imagine how the other boy must be feeling. He doesn't look as though he's struggling at all, though, even though he's hugging himself loosely and shaking just the smallest amount. The sh*t-eating grin on his face hasn't lessened a bit. Chuuya is amazed at how cheery this kid can be after just having tried to off himself. He wonders if he's done this kind of thing before.

"My parents are dead," he says roughly.

"Oh," Dazai replies. He blinks. "Sorry I asked."

Chuuya takes a breath, fighting not to dissociate, and then brings himself back to the present.

"I just live with my older sister," he mutters, kicking the grass. "And we're not going through the front door, we're climbing the drain pipe up to my room. My sister's room is across from mine, so if you're gonna talk, whisper. If you get me caught, I'm screaming and pretending you're robbing us."

"Ahaha," Dazai cackles in response. His eyes are practically alight. "This is more my speed. I'm an expert at climbing drain pipes, Chuuya, watch me! Is it this one?"

He gestures, bouncing up and down on the spot. Chuuya grits his teeth, already losing patience. "Yes, but I said be quiet. You're so f*cking loud, man, seriously."

"Sorry," Dazai chirps, at a slightly lower level than before. "I'm autistic, just a fun fact about myself, and I'm rather terrible at volume control."

With that, he goes to start shimmying up the drain pipe.

"Hang on," Chuuya says, and darts over to smack the boy's hands off of the thing. "I'm going up first. I don't want you in my room while I'm not there, for all I know you could close it over and then start stealing all my sh*t."

Dazai grins. "True. You do have a key though, right? I presume you'd be able to get in after me."

Chuuya glowers.

The other boy raises an eyebrow. "You didn't take your house keys -"

"Shut it," Chuuya says, a little too loudly considering what he'd just been telling Dazai off for, and pushes off the ground to make the climb up to his room.

The cinder block is exactly where he left it, propping the window open just enough for him to be able to slide it up and jump inside. It's chilly in here, now, but will no doubt get warmer as the day progresses. Chuuya checks his weather app almost obsessively, and it's supposed to be nice out for the next three days. Maybe he'll make his friends go on a walk with him somewhere, just for something to keep them occupied.

Dazai follows Chuuya up the pipe moments after the older boy gets inside. He's surprisingly good at it, as he'd said, making his way in close to ten seconds. He does stumble coming inside, and nearly flips over and knocks into the pile of textbooks that Chuuya has stacked on the box underneath his window.

"Jesus, be careful," Chuuya hisses. He strains his ears to try and hear if Ozaki has stirred, but there's nothing. Thank f*ck. "Are you alright?"

The boy nods, looking mildly dazed as he gets back to his feet. "All good," he says, and then glances down at his feet. "Sorry, I'm still soaked. Good thing you don't have a carpet on your floor!"

Chuuya sighs. He can feel a headache building up. "It's - I'll go grab you a f*cking towel. You obviously can't have a shower now, but my sister leaves for college at seven thirty, so you can do that before you leave if you wanna. I don't really care."

Dazai looks at him strangely, his grin strained. "You really have way too much trust in strangers, you know that, right?"

"I do," Chuuya sighs. Then he straightens and crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes darkly. "So you better not f*ck that up for me by doing some stupid sh*t. I don't wanna be talking about you in therapy ten years from now."

This makes Dazai laugh, a real laugh that makes his eyes crinkle and a small dimple appear in his left cheeks. It's a better look on him than whatever darkness was lurking under his expression back on the beach, that's for sure. "Alright," he says agreeably, and tosses his bag onto the floor. "I'll do my best not to traumatize you."

"Good," Chuuya says harshly. He takes in Dazai's form, wincing at the dirty, soaked shoes on his floor. Luckily the bike ride has made it so he's no longer dripping as much, but there's still a mess there that Chuuya is going to have to clean. He reminds himself once again that it was his own stupidity that got him into this situation and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Stay right there and do not f*cking move, I mean it. I'm not in the mood to mess about. Let me grab that towel, and I'll show you where the bathroom is so you can get changed. I'll - dump your clothes in the washing machine, my sister won't pay any attention to them anyway."

He doesn't give Dazai time to answer before he leaves the room and heads to the airing closet in the hall. It's right next to Ozaki's room, so he has to walk quietly, grimacing when the door creaks in that annoying way that he's been meaning to fix for months. He grabs a fluffy blue towel and heads back, only realizing he'd been holding his breath when he crosses the threshold back into his bedroom and lets out a gasp, slumping against the door.

Dazai, surprisingly, has done exactly as he said he would and stayed where he'd left him before. He has a small smile on his face, and looks delighted as he scans the room. "Wow, chibi," he says, eye flicking up to the ceiling. "Your room sure has a lot of interesting decor."

He had expected a comment like this, honestly. Chuuya knows his room is odd. He's lived in the same house since he was a baby, so his walls are covered in green floral paper that his parents had put up way back when he'd barely been formed. As he'd grown up, he'd found it embarrassing, and covered it all up with posters and pictures. A lot of the pictures were taken by Lippmann, photos of their group from over the last couple years. There is a pinboard full of them hanging above his bed. The bed itself is a double, assembled specifically for sleepovers and Chuuya's normal nighttime sprawling that he does when he sleeps. Shelves line the room, covered in boxes and knickknacks, as few as a few jujutsu trophies won at various tournaments. His wardrobe stands tall next to his window, sleek and modern, full length mirrors covering the doors.

The strangest part is the ceiling, which instead of being flat, slants into a point where the roof of the house is. The light that's installed up there hasn't been used for years due to casting an ominous glow that had scared a younger Chuuya to death. Instead, he has three colourful lamps that he uses when he feels like it, which makes the room feel much more homely.

"Shut up," Chuuya says, squinting with annoyance. He shoves the towel in Dazai's direction, dropping it before he's even sure he has a hold of it. "Dump your shoes here and I'll take you to the bathroom. I dunno if I can wash them as well, 'cause if I leave them in the bath my sister will see and like hell am I putting our washing machine at risk for those ugly f*cking things."

"Huh!" Dazai exclaims, offended. He kicks his shoes off with much more vigour than necessary, leaving him in mismatched patterned socks. "Forgive me for not dressing in designer Versace on a regular basis."

Chuuya flushes as he realizes what the boy's referring to. "That jacket was a gift from my sister's partner, jackass, I already told you I don't have that kind of money. Now quiet when we get into the hall, f*ck's sake."

He shows Dazai the bathroom, which is at the end of the hall before the stairwell, and gives him a plastic bag from under the sink to put his clothes in before Chuuya washes them. The boy gives him a strange look as he's explaining this, but only states why when Chuuya demands to know what the problem is. "You don't really have to do all that," is what he says. He sounds mildly embarrassed by the whole thing. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I appreciate it, but -"

"None of that sh*t," Chuuya interrupts. He smacks Dazai's chest and pushes him fully into the bathroom. "You can pay me back by shutting up instead of being annoying, how about that?"

A smirk spreads across Dazai's face. "Well, I don't quite know how possible that is -"

Chuuya clicks the door shut in his face before he can continue.

When he heads back to his room, he has to take a moment to just - breathe. And try not to let panic overwhelm him, because what the hell was he thinking, inviting a total stranger into his home just because he had a sob story to tell? Chuuya is kicking himself now. Because while Dazai seems alright enough from a first impression, irritatingly compensating arrogance aside, he could still be a serial killer or something. He could be an escaped mental asylum patient. He could be in the mafia. Chuuya's heard whispers of there being evil forces hidden in Yokohama's underground, of organ trafficking rings and illegal weapon trading, sh*t like that. Of course, that's all bullsh*t made up by children - but it could be based in truth. Chuuya certainly wouldn't know.

But he's done it now, as he's been saying to himself over and over ever since he blurted out that he'd give Dazai a place to spend the night. He can't exactly kick the guy out now without looking like the world's biggest douchebag.

While he's waiting for him to return, Chuuya sets about making up a place for Dazai to actually sleep, since that was the original issue that needed to be solved. It's lucky that his friends sleep over here so often - his house is the designated hangout place whenever Ozaki hasn't already informed him that Yosano's staying over, due to the fairly large size of his bedroom and the coolness factor of him not having naggy parents. Or parents at all, but his friends have always half counted Ozaki as fulfilling that role. They just think she's cooler than all their parents are, and Chuuya, biased as he is, would have to agree.

So he already has a stack of futons in his closet that he whips out whenever the guys decide to stay over. Chuuya picks one off the top and drags it across the floor, thanking the Gods that he hadn't done something utterly humiliating like leave his socks or underwear on the floor for Dazai to see. Chuuya's usually very clean, something that he and Ozaki keep in common. He's suddenly grateful for all the teaching his parents had given them as kids on how to keep a tidy house.

Once he's set up the futon in the corner away from the window, next to the door, he starts pacing anxiously with nothing else much to do. He wants to change out of his current clothes so badly, but he doesn't want to risk Dazai walking in while he's half undressed, so he dithers about his bed instead, not wanting to sit down. He does grab his phone, though - it's nearly fully charged, in all the time it took him to get home. There are, as usual, five hundred texts from his friend's groupchat, because they never seem to shut up in there. No one's active now, because it's four thirty in the morning and they all have school tomorrow - today - and they're not all insane like Chuuya evidently is.

He considers dropping a funny text like hey, just picked up some strange homeless guy off the beach and brought him home, LOL, but then Dazai walks back in and he drops his phone like it's on fire, eager to get this evening over and done with.

Dazai's now dressed in a dark red hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants, along with damp, mussed hair and socks that actually match this time, and he looks wildly uncomfortable. He tries to settle his expression into one of neutrality as he walks in, but it's obvious in the stiffness of every one of his moments that he's unhappy. Despite this, he smiles as he waves the plastic bag of clothes in his hands. "Ta-da," he says, distinctly lacking the enthusiasm needed to make it sound genuine. "If you'd, uh, show me where your washing machine is, I'll put them in myself. Do you have a second bathroom, by the way? I was wondering why your machine wasn't in there."

"It's in our kitchen," Chuuya replies, and holds up his hands before he can get a reply. "I know that's weird. I've been told. In case you can't tell, this house is old and weird. Did you see the huge air vents in our bathroom floor? You probably didn't, because my mom had to cover those up with rugs when I was a kid because me and Ozaki kept dropping stuff in between the slats."

Dazai giggles, and if Chuuya isn't imagining it, seems to relax slightly. "Yeah, I didn't wanna say it, but this house is weird. Something was, like, rumbling in the walls when I was getting changed. I thought I'd been unconsciously led into the house of someone who was keeping a monster locked in his basem*nt and I was his next victim, doomed to die shirtless and alone."

"God, wouldn't that be cool," Chuuya laughs. Then he shakes his head and clears his throat, remembering he needs to be quiet. "Nah, our pipes are just weird and loud. Old house things. Alright, I'll take you downstairs and show you our washer and dryer. You can toss your clothes in, and… it'll take like half an hour to run. Ugh…"

He's more so talking to himself than Dazai at this point, but the boy seems to understand the problem Chuuya's struggling with. "It's fine," he says. "I'll put the stuff in the dryer when it's done if you'll show me how it works."

Chuuya looks at him skeptically. "What, I'm supposed to let you just run around the house while I'm sleeping?"

Dazai raises his eyebrows in amusem*nt. "Well, there'd be nothing stopping me from doing that anyway, would there?"

He has a point, again. That's so annoying. All Chuuya can really do about it is huff and lead Dazai back out of the room towards the end of the hallway, past the bathroom and to the stairwell. To his credit, the boy does manage to be dead silent, just as he'd been instructed to. Chuuya, again, thanks the Gods that it's still dark enough that the family photos lining the walls can't quite be seen, or maybe Dazai would burst out laughing and blow their cover.

Dazai sticks close to him as he guides him to the kitchen. His expression is unreadable in the dark, but he jumps harshly every time the walls creak, brushing up against Chuuya's side. He thinks the boy might even be holding his breath. He doesn't seem to relax even after they get into the kitchen and Chuuya explains in whispered terms how to use both the washer and the dryer, which are probably as old as the house itself with how weirdly complicated they are to use. Dazai seems to get it, though. He dumps his stuff in the machine and turns it on, barely stifling a yell when it rumbles to life, the clothes beginning to swirl with soapy bubbles.

"What would your sister do if she caught me here?" Dazai suddenly asks, before Chuuya even has the chance to say a word. He's breathless, one hand clamped over his heart.

Chuuya furrows his eyebrows, making a face. "Well, she's not gonna f*cking kill you," he says sarcastically. "So chill. I already told you, I'll just tell her you're a friend. Why are you so stressed? I'm the one who should be stressed about this."

Dazai blinks. His lip is quivering, but he injects a note of humour into his tone. "Ahaha, well, I happen to know the statistic for how many people like me get murdered each year, so forgive me for not being entirely comfortable with this whole situation. I didn't plan for this."

Chuuya isn't sure what he means by people like me, but assumes he's referring to the fact that he's currently homeless, which he supposes makes sense. "If I was luring you here to kill you, which I promise I'm not, by the way," he starts, "I'd have done it before I spent five minutes explaining how my washer and dryer work. And I'm sure you would have done the same if you were planning to kill me, so let's both chill a bit, yeah? Come on back upstairs, I've made you a bed."

He doesn't notice the longing look Dazai shoots towards his fridge, too caught up in his own exhaustion and need to sleep at least a few hours before school. So they head back upstairs, just as quietly, and shut the door behind them.

"Futon," Chuuya says lamely, gesturing towards the makeshift bed on the floor. He's thrown a pillow and set of blankets onto it, too. "So you, uh, sleep there. The washing cycle will be done in half an hour, so you can go switch it then, if you're awake." He rummages through his closet, looking for something to quickly change into. He's so tired. "I usually set my alarm for school for half seven, but I'm gonna set it for eight instead because I'm seriously that exhausted. I'll just have to have the world's fastest shower in the morning… and then, uh. Uh. We'll see what happens then."

Dazai reaches up and begins to unconsciously tug at the ends of his hair, gaze far away. Chuuya notices the eyepatch on his eye is a brighter white, and his bandages are, too - he must keep some in his bag. That explains why he took so long to get changed, if he was doing up all those bandages.

"Alright," Dazai says eventually. He sounds just as tired as Chuuya feels, his eyelids drooping. Chuuya wonders when he last had a good sleep, if he's really been on the run from his dad for the last couple days. "Ah… thanks for letting me do this. I mean, you're absolutely insane for it, and you're probably the only idiot in Yokohama who'd let some suicidal stranger in their house for a night. Although I guess that means I'm lucky to have come across you when I did."

"You're lucky anyway," Chuuya mutters. He heads towards the door, rubbing his eyes and biting back a yawn. "If I hadn't been there, you'd be quite literally sleeping with the fishes. That joke was sh*t, I know, I'm tired." He waves a hand vaguely. "Gonna go get changed."

He does exactly that. When he returns, now dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, he finds Dazai has seemingly already passed out. He hasn't even put the blanket over himself, and is simply cuddling half of it close to his chest like it's some kind of teddy bear. Chuuya stares for a moment, trying to determine if he's faking sleep so that Chuuya will let his guard down and he can strike, but then Dazai makes some soft snuffling noise and he decides that he must have actually been that tired and fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

Chuuya isn't sure how to feel about it. The events of this evening have been so f*cking insane that Chuuya feels dizzy. He was talking this guy down from suicide an hour and a half ago, and now he's… in his bedroom. Jesus, he really has something wrong with him.

He should have just taken the guy to hospital and been done with it. For all Chuuya knows, Dazai's bag could be stuffed with weaponry and he could be dead by the morning.

Now that he takes a look… Dazai's bag has actually been left slightly unzipped. It's dark, so Chuuya can't see inside, but - would it be wrong to look? Definitely, he thinks. He was the one to invite Dazai in here - if he was a serial killer, it would be on Chuuya for being too much of a trustworthy idiot. No, he won't look. It's not his business.

He simply flops into bed, sets his alarm, and passes out before he even has time to overthink his situation any further.

Chuuya does not feel any better when he wakes up.

He's still just as exhausted, and it drips from his bones, even as he struggles to sit up and fumble for his phone. It takes a couple tries for him to swipe the alarm away, and then he's groaning and dragging himself out of his bed, head spinning. It's only then that his eyes fall onto the futon on his floor and he remembers everything that happened last night, and he instantly wants to lie back down again.

Dazai is still there, curled up in his blanket with his lips parted, drool falling from the corner of his mouth. He stirs at the sound of the alarm, whining softly and then cracking his eye. "Wha -" he groans. "Who'ssat?"

"Wake up," Chuuya says loudly. He staggers to his feet and huffs. "My sister should have left for college by now, so you've got time to shower. Up you get, we don't have forever and I need a shower too."

The boy lets out a long, drawn out groan, dropping his hand onto his forehead, but then he follows Chuuya's lead and sits up. "Ugh," he declares. "Alright, alright, I'm up."

First things first, Chuuya has to check and make sure Ozaki has really left. She has, of course. Her bedroom is empty. Her purple bedsheets are neatly tucked into her mattress, her pile of stuffed animals stacked at her pillow. Chuuya cracks a smile at the sight and closes the door again.

"You're free to roam, mackerel," he shouts. "I'm grabbing you another towel. You put your clothes in the dryer last night, yeah?"

"Of course," comes the reply, less loud than Chuuya had been, because Dazai has wandered out of the bedroom and is taking curious glances around at everything now that it's no longer pitch black and he can see. "I haven't taken them out because I fell asleep. I'll go grab them now."

"Alrighty," Chuuya mutters, and begins to head down the stairs himself. "I'm making myself something to eat while I wait for you to finish up, then I'll shower, then I should leave. I don't particularly care if I'm late. Albatross usually is too, I always meet him on the way there no matter what time I leave the house."

He practically hears Dazai's confused look and turns around to meet him. "That's my friend who yelled at you yesterday, by the way. I promise he's not as arrogant as he portrays himself to be. He's just a regular class asshole like the rest of us."

Dazai hums, weirdly silent. Chuuya wonders why, until he sees what the boy is looking at - the many photos that Chuuya's parents had put up on the wall down the stairwell, long before they left. There are about twenty of them, in mismatched frames in mismatched sizes, slot together like a perfect little puzzle all the way down to the bottom landing. In one, Chuuya and Ozaki pose together against a white background in their school uniforms, chubby cheeks dented with tiny, crooked smiles. In another, Ozaki stands in front of the stage at her old school in a pretty red dress, an awkward grin on her face as she holds her violin before her. In yet another, a fat ginger baby is held between two well kept adults, a ginger woman in soft white clothes and a dark haired man in a green sweatshirt smiling politely at the camera.

There are many more. Albatross even appears on the wall twice. Granted, one of the photos is a class photo from when Chuuya was eleven and the two of them are sat together at the very front, where all the short kids sit, smirking mischievously, and the other is a photo from when Albatross's family had come with Chuuya's on a holiday to Marseille, and the whole group of them is squished into one picture. Ozaki is shooting the two boys a smile so fond and clearly full of love that it makes Chuuya's heart ache. At the back of the photo, under his parents arms, a blonde man is giving Ozaki a similar look.

Chuuya has been meaning to take down these photos. So has Ozaki, he knows. Neither of them have gathered the courage to do it yet.

He waits to hear what Dazai says. He prays that he won't ask about any of the people in the photos and will simply say something like -

"Christ, you were a fat baby."

He breathes out a sigh of relief.

"Yeah," he says, and bounces down another step, digging his toes into the soft plush of the carpet. "I was seriously enormous. I don't remember how big I was, but my mom always said the number in the most disbelieving tone, even years later. It's crazy, 'cause now I can't put on weight even when I try, but I guess that's just genetics."

Dazai lets out a snort. "Alright, no need to brag."

Chuuya shoots him a deadpan glare. "I promise it's not something you want. My parents wouldn't let me do sports as a kid because they were worried about me having osteoporosis. Also, in case you haven't noticed, I'm f*cking short. Apparently my metabolism is too fast or something and the nutrition of the sh*t I ate wasn't… sticking, or something? I'm not a doctor, I dunno."

"Huh," Dazai says. He can hear the smirk in his voice. "I thought Chuuya was just a dwarf changeling baby or something and that's why he's so little."

"I should have left you on the f*cking beach last night," Chuuya retorts, balling up his fists.

Maybe too mean a joke, but he's sure Dazai deserves it for that. The motherf*cker does nothing but laugh, anyway, so clearly he's not offended.

Once in the kitchen, Dazai grabs his clothes out from the dryer and bundles them in his arms. "Thanks for letting me do this," he professes, sounding like he really means it, which Chuuya appreciates. "Not having to pay a few thousand yen for just a wash cycle without even a dry cycle is really nice. Maybe I was wrong and Chuuya is much taller than he seems!"

Chuuya rolls his eyes, hard. "That's a weird f*cking way to say "thank you," but I suppose I'll take it. Now go shower, quick, because I still need one. Hurry it up."

He's sure that Dazai's gleeful expression as he opens his mouth definitely means he's about to make a terrible joke about how much Chuuya smells, but it's interrupted by the sound of claws on the linoleum floor behind them.

"Baki!" Chuuya cries. The pup spends most of her time in Ozaki's room, so he often forgets she's around unless she's demanding to be fed or taken for walks. "Hi, baby girl, you wanna come meet Dazai, huh -"

Arahabaki takes absolutely no time in racing across the floor and leaping up onto Dazai's legs.

"No, Baki!" Chuuya shouts. "You know not to jump up, get down!"

Then he hears Dazai, who seemingly had taken a moment to register what was happening, positively scream.

"Ah - no, get this thing off of me! Chuuya! Chuuya, Chuuya, get it off, get it off, Chuuya!"

Chuuya grabs Arahabaki by her collar and yanks her to the floor. "No!" he tells her firmly, wagging a finger in her drooling face. "Bad girl! You know not to jump on guests!"

Then he looks back at Dazai. "I'm sorry, man, she usually doesn't -"

Oh. Dazai doesn't look so good.

He's gone very pale. One hand has left his pile of washing and is clamped firmly over his mouth. His eyes are huge, pupils dilated with fear, and he's breathing very heavily, although the noise of it is mostly muffled by his palm. He's shaking, too, badly. Overall, he looks like he's just seen a ghost.

"Jesus," Chuuya says, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion and worry, "are you ok?"

"I'm fine!" Dazai squeaks, voice pitched three octaves higher than usual. "I'm going to take my shower! Bye!"

He says all of this in pretty much one breath before darting out the room like it's on fire.

Well. It's not hard to guess from that interaction that Dazai has a definite phobia of dogs, which makes Chuuya feel like an idiot. Arahabaki is such a staple of the household that he had completely forgotten to even think about mentioning her. No wonder Dazai had freaked out, he definitely would have too if he thought he was alone in a place apart from one other person and then suddenly there was a creature lunging at him. Even though Chuuya f*cking loves dogs, he can't imagine the experience would be fun either way.

He hopes Dazai's alright, but they are definitely nowhere near close enough for him to go knock on the bathroom door and ask when the other boy had clearly excused himself for a reason, so he sets about making breakfast for himself, Dazai and Arahabaki instead. "You're a menace," he tells the pup fiercely, even as he sets down her chicken meal in front of her and scratches her behind the ears. "You're living up to your name, you chaotic thing. You better apologize to Dazai when he gets out, yeah?"

The Shibu Inu wags her tail and thumps it off the floor, tongue lolling.

Ozaki's left a note on the fridge, as she does every morning. Walked Baki, it says, in her neat print. Feed her before you leave. Probably will be back early tonight, study is cancelled. Let Akiko in if she shows up. Love you, idiot. Try not to punch anyone today.

She's left a reminder to try not to punch anyone today in her morning notes for him every day since Chuuya's last major incident, which had been an altercation with Tecchou Suehiro for making a cruel comment about his friend Akutagawa when he thought none of them could hear. That was months ago. Ozaki's dedication to the bit is really impressive.

When Dazai comes back down ten minutes later, clutching his wet towel in hand, Chuuya isn't sure what to expect him to say. It isn't really surprising when all he gets is a, "Your shower is garbage, Chuuya. It kept changing temperature while I was under the water. Also, it makes a weird rumbling noise. I've got a headache now."

Of course, he's going to try and pretend the incident with Arahabaki hadn't just happened. Chuuya doesn't really care enough to chase it up, now that he knows Dazai's fine, so all he does is roll his eyes and push his food aside, preparing to run upstairs and shower as fast as he can. "It's temperamental," he says, scrunching up his face. "And everything in this house makes a weird noise when it does anything. Here, I made you a sandwich, eat that while I'm gone and gather up your sh*t. I'm leaving after that."

Dazai looks surprised by several of the things he's just said. "What - you made food for me?"

He sounds completely incredulous, like this is unbelievable. Chuuya has to laugh. "Yes, Dazai, I didn't offer you anything last night because I was about to drop dead with exhaustion and I couldn't be too loud without waking my sister. But I'm sure you're hungry, so eat, for f*ck's sake."

"What - wait," Dazai protests, just as Chuuya's trying to leave the room. He turns impatiently before noticing the slight look of panic on the younger boy's face. "Where's the - dog? I don't have to - look after it, do I?"

Chuuya sighs. "Her name is Arahabaki, and she's outside having a sh*t, probably. She usually runs free in the garden while I get ready for school in the morning, so you shouldn't have to worry about letting her back in. It's fine." He points towards the plated sandwich on the table. "Eat, we don't have forever. I have to go."

He darts upstairs without a second glance and showers at frankly record breaking speeds. His school uniform isn't that bad, consisting of solid black trousers and and a standing collar blazer that forms the traditional gakuran, but he tends to enjoy spicing it up anyway, hanging chains off his belts and wearing huge platform boots that have him arguing with members of staff almost every day. Not that Chuuya cares. Ozaki always sighs, on the rare occasion that she's home to see him head off to school, but she's never fought him on it. How could she, when she had been the same in school, rolling up her skirt and putting pins on her loose tie and untucked skirt?

Between the two of them, their parents had their work cut out for them. They must be grateful now, not having to moan at Chuuya on his way out the door every day.

When he gets downstairs, Dazai looks ready to leave, shoes and bag on and an empty plate that he's currently rinsing in the sink. He jumps when he hears Chuuya come round the corner, like he's been caught doing something embarrassing. "Figured this was the least I could do," he says with an awkward grin, and Chuuya notices that he's actually done all of the dishes. Not that there were many there, but it's Chuuya's dishes day, so he appreciates it. "To thank you, I mean."

"You don't need to keep thanking me," Chuuya says, feeling his cheeks heat up. The attention is making him blush like a schoolgirl, which is endlessly irritating. "Come on, I've got five minutes to make a ten minute bike ride, and I need to let Baki in."

So he does exactly that, noticing how Dazai shrinks back upon the pup once again entering the kitchen. Fortunately for him, Chuuya takes the liberty to guide her towards the living room where all her toys and favourite sleeping places are, keeping her away from the other boy. Arahabaki pads away obediently, as if terribly excited to waste the day away sleeping.

Chuuya wishes more than anything that he could do that, too, but if he skips school again then he'll have to bear witness to Ozaki's disappointed look, which he hates more than just about anything. His sister is difficult sometimes, but disappointing her is never the goal of anything he does. It always makes him feel like sh*t.

"Why do you need to let her in and out when she's got that dog flap?" Dazai asks. His eye is fixed on the dog flap in question, cut into the kitchen door that leads outside. Another weird thing about Chuuya's house - the front door leads into the kitchen. "Does she not know how to do it herself?"

"She does," Chuuya says, grabbing his schoolbag and slinging it over his shoulder. "She's just lazy. She only ever goes outside by herself when she needs to sh*t or piss. And the security 'round here is good enough that we don't have to worry about her being stolen, so win-win."

He feels Dazai's gaze shift onto his backpack as he adjusts its position. Chuuya's face heats up as he realizes that he's examining the various patches and pins that he's put on the thing over the past couple years - a lot of band related patches, some of which are in English text, a few stupid meme pins that Albatross and Piano Man have bought him, and, most recently, a small bisexual flag. That one, Iceman had ironed on a week or so after Chuuya came out, right in the middle of all the mess of the canvas.

"What?" Chuuya snaps, a little harsher than he would have liked to.

Dazai has the decency to look embarrassed. "Nothing. Nothing. Let's go, then."

So they do. It's warm, good enough weather for Chuuya not to have to worry about his bike rusting if it rains. He grabs it off the lawn and straightens it, swinging one leg over and grimacing. Pedaling is difficult in platforms, but it's worth looking less pathetic next to all his much taller friends. Besides, wearing these makes Albatross the smallest kid in their group, and that's too funny an opportunity to pass up.

"Well," Chuuya says, after a silent pause. "Uh. I guess this is goodbye?"

Dazai cracks a smile. He looks nice, in the warm sunlight, with his hair newly washed and skin flush with colour. "Yes, I suppose," he says, and takes a dramatic bow. "I owe to you, Nakahara Chuuya, a life debt."

"Har-har-har," Chuuya says in a deadpan tone, but he's smiling too. "Maybe I'll see you around one day, and you'll be the super rich owner of some huge tech company and then you can take me out to get lunch. You know, as payback."

A strange look crosses Dazai's face, but then he nods, crossing his arms across his chest. "I suppose we can hope. Now, quit dragging out this goodbye, you'll be late to school, God forbid."

"f*ck you," Chuuya says, and flips the boy off. Despite this, his tone softens. "I hope sh*t goes well for you, I guess. Bye, mackerel."

Dazai wrinkles up his nose. "Why mackerel? Of all things? I have to know this now, before we part ways."

Chuuya's grin widens. "Because you were swimming about in the ocean when we met, and because you've got creepy fish eyes, to boot!"

The other boy's eyes bulge as if to prove his point. "Huh! You think so? Well, if we see each other again, I'll have a nickname for you, too, so watch out!"

He starts heading off in the opposite direction, walking backwards so Chuuya can continue to see the way he's sticking out his tongue.

Chuuya laughs and begins to pedal down the street once again.

He's late, as he'd expected to be. He meets Albatross at the school gates, chattering with Iceman as the older boy smokes. Iceman's resting face makes him look rather bored, but they learned as they originally got to know him that he always looks like that, but he's definitely interested in what Albatross is saying. He's watching him intently, nodding along to show that he's listening as ashes fall off the end of his cigarette.

Neither of them notice Chuuya until he gets close, and then Albatross's eyes light up with pure delight. "Chuuya!" he sings, waving his hands. "You were so moody yesterday, I thought maybe you got your period and was staying home!"

Chuuya punches him real hard for that, in the upper arm. While Albatross is yowling, Chuuya plucks the cigarette out of Iceman's grip. "I want some," he says, and takes a drag that heavily stings in his throat. "Ooh, disgusting as always."

"You know," Iceman says, "if your sister finds out I let you smoke, she'll probably trash my car."

Chuuya waggles his eyebrows mischievously. "She definitely would. Better watch out and not let her catch you in the act, big man!"

Iceman rolls his eyes, a gesture he reserves soley for Chuuya and sometimes Doc or Albatross. "Uh huh. You're a brat, you know that? I can't believe I put up with you guys."

"I can't believe you let Chuuya smoke and not me," Albatross glowers from the side. He's slumped against the fence, pouting. "I'm only a few months younger. You guys f*cking suck."

"If you'd stop pouting like a toddler, maybe the shopkeepers would think you look older," Chuuya reminds him with a mock-shocked expression. "Ever thought of that?"

Albatross is the one to punch him this time, less rough than Chuuya does, because the joke was less mean. "Whatever, man, we're both banned from most of the places 'round here anyway. I think Lippmann is the only one allowed in old man Miyano's anymore."

Chuuya sighs. "Pretty privilege gets you everywhere… Ooh, there's the second bell. Why are you guys still standing out here?"

"Iceman asked me to wait until Doc showed up," Albatross says, making a face that shows exactly what he thinks of this. "I told him Doc's probably not coming in 'cause he was complaining about feeling cold and faint in the group chat yesterday. I'm kind of worried about him, honestly, I hope he's not seriously sick. He'd definitely tell us if he was dying, right?"

"Doc is not dying," Iceman mumbles. He looks significantly put out by the conversation, however, and drops his cigarette to the floor to squish it with the toe of his boot. "Let's just go inside, I don't want to be responsible for you two being even later. Lippmann will kill me, and if he doesn't, Chuuya's sister will. And I don't want to die until they drop season two of Jujutsu Kaisen."

"Shiiiit," Chuuya drawls, shoving his hands in his pockets as they begin to dawdle towards the school building. "sh*t, sh*t, sh*t. You've got garbage taste. Hey, unrelated, but I've got something interesting to talk about at lunch today, so Doc better come in. I'm not interested in explaining this story twice, but I promise you all wanna hear it."

Albatross lets out a scandalized gasp. "Ohoho, what was Nakahara Chuuya up to last night that was so important that he didn't reply to a single Tiktok I sent him all night?"

"I never watch your Tiktoks," Chuuya says, resisting an eye roll, "and you'll find out at lunch. So hurry it up and let's get to class, I've got Japanese Studies first and I'm actually enjoying that class despite everything I've been telling Lippmann."

Lunch rolls around quickly, and Chuuya finds himself at the same table his friend group sits at every day. It's one of the largest tables in the cafeteria, a wide, circular one on the bottom floor by the window that looks out to the outdoor eating area, which is also full in the summer heat. Because of how many people there are in Chuuya's group, one of them is always there to claim the table, so they've always got somewhere to sit.

Right now, the person claiming the table is Lippmann, with a bento box and large book sitting in front of him. He's entirely focused on that as he swirls his chopsticks around the box, completely blanking the group of girls from Chuuya's last class that pass by and giggle with pink cheeks as they pass the table. God, he's hopeless. Chuuya makes his way over and plops down in a seat across from his friend, thumping his own bento on the table.

"You need to get your face out of a book every once in a while and f*cking look around you," he demands.

Lippmann looks up in pure surprise, eyes wide and mouth dropped open. "Huh?"

It's a shock that people find him so attractive. They definitely wouldn't if they could see Lippmann at his stupidest like Chuuya and their friends have. "Those girls were gawking at you again," he says, jerking his head over to where they're now crowding into the lunch line. "Kaori and Shinju. It's so clear that at least one of them wants to ask you out, but you're too busy in your -" He reaches out and twists Lippmann's book around to see what he's reading before groaning loudly. "- A History of Japanese Political Thought, 1600 - 1901, to notice them."

Lippmann huffs and pulls his book back over to him. "If they wanna ask me out, they could try being interesting enough for me to want to get my face out of my book. Also, I'm not dating again until I'm in college. I've had enough of that."

Chuuya smirks. "Gogol scar you for life?"

"Shut your mouth," Lippmann says politely, and shoots him a look that could easily kill him in the daggers in his eyes were real."

"Woah," comes a voice from behind, and Chuuya glances around to see Piano Man, Iceman, and Akutagawa approaching from behind. Piano Man is smirking as he slides into a seat besides Lippmann, the other boys following suit. "Language, Lippmann, language. What's got your panties in a twist?"

Lippmann groans, clutching his head. "I'm going to murder you all."

While they bicker, Chuuya shoots Akutagawa a nod. "Hey, man," he says, clicking his chopsticks together as he unwraps them. "How was the weekend?"

Akutagawa smiles stiffly, shrugging uncertainly. "I didn't do much of anything. I mostly let Gin drag me around. She wants pretty summer clothes that don't "clash with her aesthetic." By that, she means she wants it all to be in black. It's a very difficult compromise to make."

Chuuya laughs, shaking his hair out his face. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Tell Gin I miss seeing her around, this school's no fun without her."

This makes Akutagawa relax a little, his smile looking a little more genuine. "She keeps asking when I'm going to follow in her footsteps and get kicked out," he says, a note of amusem*nt in his voice. "Although she actually said she thinks that you'll be the one to do it first. I'm sure you're more pleased about that than anything."

"I am!" Chuuya says, clapping his hands together with glee. "Tell Gin I'll do her proud, one of these days. I'll go out with a bang, although I don't know what will top the penis balloons. There's still a half deflated one on the ceiling in the physics classroom."

The table fills up with people within minutes, comfortably crowded. Chuuya ends up sat besides Albatross, as usual, and Higuchi, who's got her whole lunch spread out across the table as she chats loudly to Tachihara about some new show she's watching. Her blonde hair is pinned up in a pretty braid today, her glasses slipping off her face with every enthusiastic wave of her hands. Most of them are paying attention to what she's saying, because Higuchi's commentary is always so uniquely fascinating that they all love hearing it, and besides, she's usually so introverted that hearing her talk so much is unusual. Chuuya plays with his bento while she talks, jabbing the ends of his chopsticks into his egg.

"Alright," Albatross pipes up at one point, and Chuuya's head snaps up as he realizes that Higuchi must have finished her rambles and started eating instead, leaving the table open for conversation. "Chuuya. You said this morning that you had something interesting to tell us all about, and I've been thinking about it all day. It better be really good, or I'll cry, I will."

Chuuya chuckles and takes a glance around the table. "Where's Doc and Sigma?"

"Doc didn't come in," Iceman says. He looks very glum about this. "He's just at home, says he's gonna rest. He'll let us know if he has to go to hospital again."

"sh*t," Tachihara speaks up, looking troubled. "Is that really such a norm around here?"

Tachihara just started at this school in January, after Christmas break. He's Albatross's age, and he and Chuuya had promptly taken him under their wing. He's funny as hell, and also makes it so that Chuuya isn't the only ginger of the group, although they're all fairly certain Tachihara dyes his hair. Why, they can't understand.

"It is," Piano Man says glumly. He shoots a look in Chuuya's direction. "Sigma stayed behind in art, dunno what for. She asked me to save her my chips. I think she'll be down in a few minutes."

"Awesome," Chuuya says. "I'll save her half my potato salad. Ozaki always makes too much and it doesn't look like there'll be much left in the cafeteria by the time she gets down here."

Higuchi suddenly lets out a frustrated sounding huff. She's staring down at her phone, eyebrows knit together, but looks up with wide eyes when she realizes she's caught her friend's attention.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says with an awkward laugh. "The wifi here sucks ass, and my f*cking data's not working. Does anyone have a hotspot I can hook up to? I want to text my sister."

"I have a hotspot," Lippmann says, already pushing aside his bento box to bring out his phone. "What data service are you with? Out of curiosity."

"Mori Corp," Higuchi groans. She grimaces and leans on her fist defeatedly. "They do TV ads, so my mom signed me up. Apparently they're "the best in Yokohama," but I swear to god I never get signal anywhere."

"My older brother's with Mori Corp and he's never had problems," Tachihara offers. He shrugs. "Then again, who f*cking talks about what data service they're in. Or actually watches adverts and buys products because of them."

"My mom's old," Higuchi protests, pouting. "I'm too lazy to switch providers, anyway. My phone number is attached to everything."

"Everything, like your Instagram, your Twitter -"

"Shut up, Tachihara!"

"Doc's with Mori Corp," Iceman suddenly pipes up. He's lazily stirring his soup with a spoon, shivering despite the hot weather. "He data shares with me all the time and it's fine."

A few of them shoot him a weird look.

"Why do you even know what data plan Doc is with?" Chuuya questions.

Iceman snorts. "He's my best friend. Don't you know what data plan Albatross is with?"

"I don't think I could even tell you when Albatross's birthday is if you held me at gunpoint."

Albatross punches his arm. "Hey. You know damn well I am a Virgo."

Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Uh huh." He jabs a thumb in his friend's direction. "August twenty fifth, by the way. I'm not a bad friend."

Albatross practically preens, pursing his lips dramatically.

Before anyone else can say anything to interrupt the conversation, however, Chuuya suddenly spots someone making a beeline for their table. It's not Sigma. He blinks with surprise, not glancing away. "Uh. Ranpo Edogawa, incoming."

Everyone whips around in shock.

Chuuya is correct. Bouncing over to them is the man himself, jacket slung over his shoulders like a cape and hat askew over mussed black hair. He waves, grin spread across his face, and Chuuya mimics the gesture, more than moderately confused.

"What's he coming over here for?" Lippmann hisses.

There's no chance for an answer, because Ranpo has already pulled right up to their table and smacked his hands against it.

"Hey there, gang," is how he greets them. He bobs his head, meeting Chuuya's eyes. "Nakahara. How's it going?"

"Alright," Chuuya says with a shrug. It's very unusual that Ranpo's come all the way up to their table, but he's playing it like this is normal. He's sure there's at least one person at the table who isn't, though. An opportunity for payback. "Hey, my friend Albatross wanted to thank you for getting us invites to EdPoe's beach party. He's super excited, hasn't shut up about it since."

He can practically feel the look that Albatross is burning into his skull, but only smiles politely without acknowledging it.

"Yeah, uh, I meant to thank you," he hears Albatross say, sounding embarrassed. "It was super cool of you to do that. You didn't have to."

Ranpo waves a hand casually. "Eh, it's no biggie. Practically everyone comes to them anyway. Ed's met Akiko a few times, too, he adores her. He was more than happy to invite all you guys."

Everyone seems to have relaxed a little about having Ranpo around, although there are a few people shooting their table strange looks as the boy leans on his forearms, ass stuck out. He doesn't seem to care about how he looks, however, just drums his fingers on the table and grins wickedly at his final statement.

Lippmann speaks up next. "Tell him we appreciate it," he says with a nod. "But I do have to ask. Why'd he choose to host the party at that particular beach? I mean, he has to know it's a bit of a sh*thole, right?"

Chuuya wonders if he'll think that's a bit rude, but Ranpo just waves him off and laughs. "Oh, yeah. It definitely is. But you know how writers are, always romanticizing the most barren, miserable places. He thinks it's wonderful." The boy rolls his eyes, smile still squinting them half shut. "What a weirdo."

"We go to that beach sometimes," Chuuya offers. "It's less crowded, which makes it awesome. No adults telling us we're making a scene all the damn time."

"Amen to that," Ranpo says, as Albatross and the others let out small cheers.

Then Ranpo takes a glance around them, the kind that makes it seem like he has something more to ask, and Chuuya raises an eyebrow. The older boy seems to notice this and scrunches up his face, unashamed. "So I've got a question," he says, suddenly serious. "First off - can I get a quick pronoun check on your friend Sigma?"

"She-her," everyone pretty much unanimously choruses, bobbing their heads.

Ranpo grins. "Fantastic. I have to admit I stopped paying attention to Fyodor's gang a long time ago, so I was quite surprised to see her starting to hang out with you guys."

Nothing escapes Ranpo Edogawa, it seems. "We took her under our wing after Dostoyevsky started being nasty to her," Piano Man explains. "She's better off. That guy's a piece of sh*t."

"Agreed," Ranpo says, and even shudders. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to dislike someone easily, so Chuuya's surprised. "He's somehow hom*ophobic while also being bisexual. It'd be amusing if it weren't so sad. Anyway, I was leading up to ask something else, not just talk about that guy, wasn't I."

As he's speaking, he's digging around in his shirt pocket, looking for something. He pulls it out and clutches it in his fist. When he notices Chuuya looking, he shoots him a smirk, and he flushes and looks down.

"What's up?" Lippmann says.

Ranpo straightens and points a finger downwards at the table.

"Is Sigma single?" he asks.

Nobody quite knows how to respond to that for a moment.

"Uh," Higuchi says, tone soft and timid. "She is, yeah…"

"Wonderful," Ranpo says, and slides the thing that he had in his hand across the table to stop in front of the girl who'd spoken up. "Pass this along to her, will ya? I'm sure you can all guess what it is. If she's not interested, I totally understand, but hey. No harm in shooting my shot, right?"

He winks at their various stunned faces. "I'd ordinarily give it to her myself, but I've got to accompany this ninth grader to his building and I won't have time today. But I appreciate the assistance! Bye-bye, now!"

And with that, he's gone before anyone else can say a word.

"We, uh," Higuchi says, after a long pause. She looks like she can't decide whether to laugh or frown. "We did all think he was dating Edgar Poe, right?"

"Yeah," Albatross says, eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I also thought he was gay?"

"Maybe he's bi?" Lippmann suggests. He's already gone back to picking at his rice. "Good for Sigma, I guess - Speak of the devil, here she comes, she must have finished up. Hey, Sigma!"

Chuuya turns around to see the girl darting down the stairs in the centre of the cafeteria, carrying an enormous folder of what he assumes to be stuff for art class under her arm. Her split dye bob bounces around her face as she jogs over, grinning and waving with her free hand. Piano Man pulls out the seat he'd saved for her, and she flops into it gratefully, out of breath.

"Hi," she says. She drops her art folder onto the floor with disdain. "Ms. Takahashi had me stay back. What's up? You all look like a bomb hit."

"It did," Higuchi says, and lets out a small giggle. "Ranpo Edogawa was just here."

Everyone seems to find the odd amusem*nt in the situation at once, all rushing to explain. Higuchi passes Sigma the small, folded up paper slip that Ranpo had left, and she blinks, staring down at it like it's a real bomb.

"There's no f*cking way Ranpo's just left you his number," Chuuya says, still in disbelief.

"He did," Sigma says. She's unfolded the paper, leaving it in the middle of the table for everyone to see. "Holy sh*t. Isn't Ranpo eighteen?"

"No, no," Piano Man clarifies, shaking his head and knocking some beans off his fork as he raises it to his mouth. "He's supposed to be in eleventh year, but he was moved up to twelfth because he's, like, a genius."

Sigma lets out a sudden, shocked laugh. "And isn't he dating -"

"We were under that impression," Lippmann says, shaking his head. "Apparently not. Or maybe they're, like, in an open relationship or something. I dunno. They're both weird."

The girl shakes her head, looking dazed, but she tucks the paper neatly away in her breast pocket as she pulls out her lunch and Piano Man slides her his chips.

They all fall back into their own conversations again, but only for a minute before Albatross suddenly shouts. "Argh! I got interrupted last time, but Chuuya, what's that thing you said you wanted to tell us all? You're not getting away without explaining! I won't let you!"

Everyone turns back to Chuuya all of a sudden, attention reinstated. He groans as he remembers the whole situation, moderately embarrassed at how he'd handled it all. "I think I wanna keep it secret now," he says, dropping his face into his hands. "None of you deserve my secrets."

"Oh, come on!" Albatross explodes, and they all start waving their hands at him and begging for him to speak. Chuuya lets out a breath, shaking his head and trying to bite back a laugh. His friends are ridiculous. And he knows they're definitely not going to let up on this now.

"If everyone would shut it," he says loudly, rolling his eyes. "I'd tell you. But you have to promise not to judge me, or say anything stupid until I'm done explaining -"

"Oh, god," Lippmann exhales sharply. "What bullsh*t have you gotten yourself into this time?"

The rest of the group seems to share this same sentiment, groaning and palming their faces. Chuuya throws up his hands. "At least let me explain myself first!"

"Fine, then," Piano Man says, and makes a motion for everyone to settle down. Most of the group listens to Piano Man when he talks, so they do so, even though Akutagawa grunts with displeasure as he does so.

Chuuya takes a breath. "Ugh."

He buries his face in his hands again.

"So, last night," he begins. "A bunch of you assholes were with me while we were at the beach. For those of you that weren't, we were at the beach. All you need to know. And there was this kid, who Albatross was super rude to -"

"Was not," Albatross shoots back defensively. "Chuuya was staring at them and then he said he thought their stone skipping was cool -"

"Shut it, Tross," Chuuya says, biting back a smile as he flicks a hand in his direction. "Anyway, Tross was rude to him, and that was that, and then we left for the night. But, I left my jacket behind by accident, the super expensive one that Yosano gave me, so I went back late at night to get it."

"Jesus Christ," Higuchi mutters. She's fiddling with the tinfoil from her sandwich. "This story cannot end well."

"So I climbed the fence and found my jacket," Chuuya continues without missing a beat. "And that kid, from earlier - he was on the beach. Just… sitting there. In the pitch black, by himself."

He decides to keep Dazai's suicide attempt to himself, because it's not his business to share with everyone. It's unimportant, anyway.

"He spoke to me a bit," he says. His eyes are cast downwards at the table, lips pressed together. This is the part that's difficult. "He said he was homeless, he'd run away from his dad and he didn't have anywhere to go. He was living in a smelly old shipping container by the docks. And I didn't know what to do, because obviously it wasn't my business, but -"

"Oh, no," Lippmann suddenly lets out. His eyes are bulging out of his skull. "What did you do?"

Chuuya huffs. "I'm getting to that!"

"I don't believe this," Albatross says, covering the bottom half of his face. "You have got to be making this sh*t up. Don't try and tell us you took him home with you."

"No way," Sigma mutters, looking astonished. "Chuuya, you didn't take a random stranger home with you, did you?"

"You're all jumping to conclusions!" Chuuya whines, jutting out his bottom lip. "Stop judging me based on conclusions you've jumped to! God!"

Piano Man raises an eyebrow. "So what did you do, then, if not that?"

Chuuya looks up again and stares into the faces of all his intently listening friends.

"Um," he says. "Uh."

"No way," Piano Man groans. "Chuuya! Oh my god!"

"Listen," Chuuya says, through the excited chatter. "Ok, listen. None of you were there, you don't know how pathetic he was! I had to give him shelter for at least one night, he was literally sitting half in the water! And I know it was a bit of a dumb, impulsive decision -"

"Yes, you are the king of dumb, impulsive decisions," Albatross says. He sounds awestruck, shaking his head slowly. "So he stayed the night? And he didn't kill or rob you? Wait - did he rob you? Chuuya, did he rob you? Does Ozaki know he was there?"

"He didn't rob us," Chuuya groans. He's starting to regret trying to explain all this. "He was… ok. He was strange. Not strange in a super bad way, although he was really annoying, kind of like Albatross. Altogether, though, he was - nice. Like, nice in the way you'd expect from someone who you were letting stay in your house when you didn't have to. He didn't do anything wrong or weird, he was just - he was nice, ok! It wasn't a bad decision! I mean, if I had to choose, I'd do it again. I couldn't ever just let him sit there on the beach like that. And - and no, Ozaki doesn't know. She was asleep. It was whatever, it was fine."

There's a small pause before anyone speaks.

Albatross looks shell shocked. "Youpromiseyou're not lying?"

"Promise," Chuuya says, and crosses his heart for everyone at the table to see. "Promise on our friendship. I don't lie like that anymore."

"Huh," Albatross hums, evidently deciding to believe this proclamation. He leans on his elbow, a thoughtful look on his face. "Ok. Ok, ok."

Chuuya scrunches up his face. "Uh… what's with that reply?"

Albatross only flashes a large, wicked grin.

"I dunno what's up with him," Piano Man says, and reaches over to shove Albatross's arm off the table. "But I have to let you know, Chuuya, that if this is all true, then what you did was absolutely insane."

Chuuya lets out a groan. "I know!"

"I can't believe you'd let a complete stranger into your home like that," Sigma says with a laugh. She raises her arms to pull her hair back into a messy ponytail, then lets it go again. "I mean, I guess if it all turned out alright, it's fine, but like - wow. He could have killed you."

"Overexaggeration," Chuuya says, rolling his eyes and picking at his food with his fingertips. "He's fifteen and he's only, like, five inches taller than me and has the skinniest arms. Anyway, guys, I'm not an idiot. I promise I wouldn't have invited some random guy into my house if I thought he'd really kill me."

The others at the table all seem to have something to say about this, all except for Akutagawa, Iceman and Tachihara, the latter of which seems mostly confused about the whole situation. Chuuya had figured this would be the only way they'd react - his friends are loud people, and they always have opinions on everything. The good thing is that insane things happen to their group literally all the time. Even while he was trying to tell the story, Sigma got asked out by a popular kid who they all thought was dating someone else. They'll forget all about this eventually. It'll just be a funny story they'll talk about for months to come.

And then Albatross speaks up yet again and ruins Chuuya's life.

"So-o," he sings, leaning forward yet again. "Tell us about the guy. What's his name?"

Chuuya furrows his eyebrows. "Why do you care?"

Then he recognizes that look in Albatross's eyes and tenses, eyes wide. "No," he says, shaking his head. "No. Nope. Don't even start with that."

Albatross laughs, grin growing. "Ok, I just wanted to ask -"

"No!"

Higuchi leans over, squinting as her hair falls into her face. "Question. What's going on?"

Chuuya glares at his smirking friend across the table. "Well, ever since I came out as bisexual, Albatross has been trying to set me up with every guy I look at for longer than two seconds."

"I just think," Albatross starts, throwing his hands out across the table. "I just think that you should get to date guys now that you have the chance to!"

"You think I should date the strange homeless guy I invited into my house last night because I forgot my jacket at the beach and I felt bad about how pathetic he looked?"

"Well, I dunno, maybe if you want to -"

"I don't know if he's gay!"

"Everybody shut up while I give my opinion," Lippmann says. He's smiling, leaning forward on his arms like he's about to tell a secret. "Me personally, I think this sounds like the start of a cute romcom or something."

Chuuya throws up his hands in exasperation. "You all thought I was crazy two minutes ago!"

Across the table, Akutagawa snorts into his hands, throwing a hand in front of his mouth.

"You're all f*cking ridiculous," Chuuya says. He palms his cheeks, feeling how hot they are. His friends are embarrassing. "I just thought this would be a funny story to tell, I didn't think you'd all start getting all weird with me!"

To his surprise, Iceman is the one who interjects next.

"If Chuuya wants everyone to shut up about it," he says quietly, holding up a hand to prevent Albatross from speaking his next words. "Then you all will. And you'll quit being annoying. Especially in this one's case."

He jabs the finger he'd been holding up at Albatross, who at least has the decency to look moderately sheepish.

"Ok, I'll stop," he drawls, pouting dramatically. "Although I am just trying to revitalize Chuuya's very dead love life. Everyone should be grateful that I've taken up such a task."

"They definitely should not," Chuuya sighs. He's suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of tiredness, and yawns into the palm of his hand. "Nobody asked you to do that."

Albatross raises an eyebrow, even as he resumes attacking his food. "Well, it's necessary," he says, through a mouthful of ham sandwich. "You've been miserable over Yuan since Paul left. I don't wanna see my best friend resign himself to a life of being a depressed bachelor at the age of sixteen."

Chuuya shoots him a glare the second Yuan and Paul's names exit his mouth, but it's too late. While Higuchi, Sigma and Akutagawa might have enough tact not to say anything, there is one person at their table who's accidentally insensitive enough to ask, and he's sitting straight up now, attention drawn from his picked-apart meal to the conversation before him.

"Who're Yuan and Paul?" Tachihara says. He glances around the table, brown eyes blinking with curiosity. "Still new here, remember."

When a heavy five seconds pass without a reply, he seems to take the hint and bows his head in an awkward gesture mimicking the one that all the Flags had done upon hearing Tachihara's question.

Chuuya's suddenly in a very sh*t mood. He can't imagine why.

"Well," he says, getting to his feet without looking at anyone. "I'm gonna head to class early. I need to start working on my English essay that's due in literally less than a week or I'll fail it again, and then Ozaki's going to kill me."

Higuchi flashes him a strained smile. "It's ok, Chuuya. Nobody passes English."

"Except Lippmann," Piano Man mutters, and Lippmann elbows him lightly.

Albatross, who's looking rightfully uncomfortable, gathers his food up and follows Chuuya into a standing position. "See you bastards later," he says, flashing them a peace sign. "Good luck with Ranpo, Sigma."

"Thanks," Sigma says with a nod. She's looking between him and Chuuya with a vaguely puzzled expression, seemingly picking up on the very obvious tension that's suddenly overtaken the group. "Uh, bye then."

Everyone else murmurs their goodbyes as the two boys walk off. Albatross follows behind silently. Chuuya can practically hear him thinking, a mile a minute going by in his idiot brain.

Chuuya bets that he won't stay silent for longer than thirty seconds. This proves to be true, as he almost immediately starts talking as soon as they're out of the lunch hall and into the stairwell, heading for the Languages department.

"Sorry for bringing that sh*t up," he says meekly. "I forgot that Tachihara and Sigma and those guys don't know about all that stuff."

All the anger he'd felt two minutes ago had pretty much left him immediately. Albatross talks a lot, and most of the time without thinking first, so he shouldn't be surprised when he says dumb things at this point. Besides, he can never stay mad at Albatross. He's too pathetic, like a kicked puppy. "It's whatever," Chuuya sighs. His bag bangs off his thigh as he walks up the stairs, clinging to the bannister. "I don't even care that much. I'm just sick of explaining sh*t to people."

Albatross hums. Chuuya can see him making a face out of the corner of his eye, clearly unwilling to say more in case he blows up at him. It almost makes him laugh - his friend knows him too well. Although most people know to stay out of Chuuya's way when he's clearly pissed. That's what kind of reputation punching two teachers gets you.

"It's not even Yuan," Chuuya continues. He almost rolls his eyes. "I don't care about that. Blah blah blah, I had a girlfriend and I dumped her and it was a bit embarrassing - I'm sick of explaining Paul and my parents to people. Everyone just looks at me all sympathetically when I talk about him, and they do that voice. You know that voice." He puts on a high pitched tone that makes him sound like an old grandmother. "Oh, dear, I'm so sorry that happened, you must be so sad. I'm not an eight year old who's just found out Santa's not real. I don't like people being weird around me."

"Yeah," Albatross says, clearly eager to have something to say now. "I get that. I mean, you remember when Winter died and everyone kept coming up to me and telling me how sorry they were. Like, can't a man mourn his childhood pet in peace?"

Chuuya presses his lips together, but a laugh still slips through. "That's because you made an Instagram post about it, asshole!"

"Yeah, and Instagram is where it's supposed to stay! Leave a comment or something instead of coming up to me like that!"

They both giggle a little. "Fly high, Winter," Chuuya says in a mock mournful tone. "She's clawing apart couches in doggy heaven right now, for sure."

"Peeing on my school uniforms," Albatross adds on. He kicks open the door to the hall, smiling at Chuuya as he holds it open for him. "Eating my hats. Breaking into my mom's room to tear the bags of dog food to shreds."

When Chuuya doesn't reply after a moment, setting off down the quiet hallway without him, Albatross lets the door swing shut and jogs after him. "You're not mad, are you?"

"No," Chuuya says resolutely. "I was just annoyed already. Woke up in a weird mood." He reaches over to ruffle Albatross's hair, a grin gracing his lips when his friend yelps. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad, but then again, I'd love it if you'd learn to think before you speak."

"That'll never happen," Albatross replies cheekily. He bats Chuuya's hands away playfully. "Hell will freeze over first."

They stop outside the English languages classroom. Albatross scans the room, eyebrows furrowed. It's empty.

"You're not actually gonna sit in here and work on your English sh*t, are you?" he asks.

"Nope," Chuuya says, popping his lips. But he enters the classroom anyway, heading to his seat and plopping down. "But if a teacher comes in, that's definitely what I'm doing. I just wanted to be away from everyone else for a bit."

"Cool beans," Albatross says, and sits down beside him.

It's not a question of whether he'll stay. Albatross is undoubtedly loyal, like a little guard dog. He's been there for all the worst of Chuuya's bad days. They have the kind of unbreakable friendship that almost nothing could shake. The longest they ever stayed mad at each other was when they were ten and Albatross stole Chuuya's pocket money to buy donuts at the corner shop and didn't even share. It was only two days before they were talking to each other like normal, incident forgotten.

Such is the strength of their friendship. Chuuya doesn't know what he'd do without his best friend by his side.

A few minutes pass, with Chuuya playing a game on his phone and Albatross doodling something on one of his jotters, scrawling in green pen in the margins. Eventually, though, it becomes clear he wants to say something, glancing back and forth between Chuuya and his drawing anxiously. He decides to put him out of his misery and ask outright. "What's up?"

Albatross tenses slightly, blinking behind his glasses. "Ah, well… Do you actually want me to stop making jokes about setting you up with people? You know I'm mostly kidding about it."

Chuuya snorts, looking back at his phone. "I don't care. I don't take anything you say seriously anyway."

His friend seems to take no offense to this, instead tapping his pen off his lip thoughtfully. It leaves little green smudges on his skin, not that Chuuya's going to tell him that.

"So," Albatross starts, like he's just thought of it. "What happened with that guy, huh? Did he just leave this morning with no problem?"

He's staring at Chuuya, now, probably examining his reactions. Chuuya knows this, but still gnaws on his lip in response, uncertainty blooming in his chest.

"Yeah, he left," he says with a shrug. "He knew it was a one night arrangement."

Albatross snickers. "That sounds bad out of context."

Chuuya rolls his eyes absently. "I'm sixteen. I guarantee no-one is thinking that."

"Well, sorry," Albatross says, and then puts on a silly voice. "I've got a dirty mind!"

"Man, you're fifteen and also a loser virgin," Chuuya tells him, shooting him a look. "Quit being a weirdo."

"Basically sixteen," Albatross says, with a satisfied smirk and a wave of his leaking pen. "Back to the topic at hand. Tell me about the guy! What's he gonna do now that he's left? Did he tell you? Why'd he run away? I wanna know everything!"

Chuuya huffs and turns away again, trying to focus on what he'd just been doing on his phone. "I don't have to tell you sh*t!"

In truth, he just doesn't want to think about it. Because he doesn't know what Dazai's going to do now. Really, he doesn't have any reason to worry about it - this guy is still a stranger. Chuuya shouldn't care about the fact that he's still homeless and tried to kill himself last night. There's nothing he can do about it.

Albatross sighs. "Shame. You guys had a real meet-cute introduction. It would make for a great romcom or something."

"What kind of good romcom stars a sixteen year old? And before you answer, note that I said good."

"...Death Note."

"Death Note was not… a romcom."

"Not to you, maybe."

Chuuya sighs.

"I dunno what he's gonna do," he says dully. He bites down on the inside of his cheek, looking down at the table. "It's not really my business, either. I mean, he's gone now, I can't really do much for him now. It's not like I have money I can lend him, or… I don't know."

Albatross doesn't say anything for a moment, just purses his lips and taps his pen. Then he looks back at him with a purposeful expression, one that Chuuya knows well. Usually when he makes this face, he's either about to give some very good advice, or say something immensely dumb. He never knows until he says it.

"Chuuya," he starts. "You promise that you're -"

"Yes, Tross," he interrupts, already knowing where this is going. "I'm telling the truth. I swore it, didn't I?"

"Ok, then," Albatross says. He sounds very serious. "Well, I suppose it's really up to you as to what you wanna do. I mean, this guy is just a kid, alone on the streets. In Yokohama, where people occasionally go missing and there are rumours that the mafia runs amuck in the underground. Me personally, I would not survive out there. I'm too spoiled. I need to play Red Dead Redemption every day or I'll die." He shrugs nonchalantly, his braid falling over his shoulder. "I think, if you did like him - I don't mean romantically, I'm done joking about that now - I think you should maybe check in on him? Maybe try and convince him to go to the police or something about whatever's made him run away? Obviously, it's not your responsibility to do that. But I know you, Chuuya, and I know you'll feel super bad forever if you don't at least make sure he's not dead or something. Maybe make him a cheese sandwich to take out with him."

Chuuya's silent for a long moment.

"Your heart is too big, little man," Albatross continues. "I mean, this isn't even the first time you've taken in a stray off the street and hidden them in your room without telling Ozaki -"

"Baki is a dog, and a Shibu Inu at that, she wouldn't have survived a day!"

"It's the same thing," Albatross says, raising an eyebrow. "Your heart is too damn big. I bet if it was a grumpy middle aged man shaking his fists at the clouds on that beach, you still would have wanted to find some way to help him, even if it took you all night."

He waits patiently for Chuuya to try and refute this.

God, it's so f*cking annoying when Albatross is right.

"I don't like seeing people suffer," Chuuya mutters. He casts his gaze down at the desk so he doesn't have to see Albatross's smug expression anymore. "I feel like if I'm not helping people, I'm not really doing much good, am I?"

He can feel Albatross's surprised look without even glancing up. It's not often that the two of them have actual serious conversations. They tend to avoid all emotionally sensitive topics as much as possible - topics like Chuuya's family, Albatross's worries about his own sexuality that he's brought up once or twice, both their mental health in general. Before today, neither of them had even mentioned Paul's name to the other in close to a year.

"You do plenty of good," Albatross tells him. His tone wavers a little, uncertain. "Listen, I'm sorry for bringing up Paul. That was a dumb move. It was just, like - reflex. I don't even know why, I mean - I should be used to him not… being here."

Chuuya shrinks even further into himself. "Yeah," he says dumbly. "No, it's fine. I just prefer to forget about him as much as possible and last night was a - weird time, emotionally. So being reminded of him just makes me feel weird." He lets out a soft laugh. "I mean, you know I'm not usually so…"

"Moody?" Albatross offers.

He receives a glare in return and snorts. "See, that's exactly what I'm talking about. That's the exact same look you've given people when you're in a mood every day since you were, like, eight. You're so consistent, Chuuya, it actually worries me sometimes."

"f*ck off," Chuuya says, but he has to fight off the urge to laugh, and the corner of his lip twitches. "The bell's gonna ring soon, you should get to your own class before the teachers start coming in and shouting again. They all think we're a bad influence on each other anyway."

Albatross scoffs, even as he's getting to his feet and gathering the remainders of his lunch into his bag. "Whatever! If anyone's a bad influence on anyone, it's Doc who's bad for us. He's the mastermind behind most of the sh*t we get up to, but he gets away scot free every time, just 'cause he's always sick! Isn't that f*cked, Chuuya? I ought to give him a telling off."

"Yeah, yeah, if you say so," Chuuya says. He can't hide the smile that spreads across his lips anymore. Albatross has never failed to cheer him up before. "Now shoo, scat, get. I'm sick of your ass."

"Quit looking at it, then," his friend says playfully with a stuck out tongue, but he leaves immediately after, away from the obscenities Chuuya shouts as a response.

The school day drags on.

Chuuya's not paying attention. His last classes of the day are easy, anyway, so by the time the bell rings, he's done all his work without even thinking about it and is darting to the school gates at top speeds. Usually he waits for Albatross at his locker, but today his mind is racing and he has something else he wants to do that he doesn't need the menace to be involved in.

However, he immediately wishes he had waited when he gets to the school gate.

"Chuuya," comes a slimy, drawling voice that instantly makes his skin crawl. "Hi, Chuuya, come over here! I'd like to talk to you!"

He resolutely ignores it, walking a little faster so his bag bangs even harder into his thigh. It's going to leave a bruise.

"Chuuya," insists that same voice, closer this time, and then he feels a hand closing around his wrist. He jolts, trying to yank himself away, and in doing so is forced to turn around and face the source of the irritating noise head on.

A tall, older boy, pale as death with veins that run blue against white skin, flat black hair falling in an unnatural looking wave down just above his shoulders. Droopy, solid grey eyes are fixated on him above a lazy smile, one that curls just so upon seeing Chuuya's expression. His uniform is tucked and buttoned just right, leaving almost none of that gross skin to be seen. But Chuuya knows - everybody does. Maybe, if this bastard shut up about himself for longer than two minutes, he wouldn't have to, but he is not that kind of person at all.

"Leave me alone," Chuuya says firmly, and yanks his wrist out of the grip of those five spindly fingers.

"Ow," says Fyodor, in a pleasant tone. His smile doesn't fade. "That hurts. I'm anemic, you know."

"I'm aware," Chuuya practically growls. He takes a step back, setting his jaw with irritation. "You don't stop talking about it, ever."

When he takes a glance behind the older boy's head, he can see Fyodor's little group, standing at the front of the gate. Well, it's not so much of a group anymore as it is a trio of freaks and losers, not since f*ckuchi Ouchi was kicked out of school for throwing rocks through the gym windows. The two remaining weirdos are whispering amongst themselves, although what they're saying is fairly easy to guess. Chuuya glares hotly at them. They both stare back, completely unashamed, eyes wide and lips twitching.

"Are you going to EdPoe's party?" Fyodor asks. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, tilting his head conversationally. "It's supposed to be a good one this year. I've heard he's hiring a bunch of people to run a barbeque and a fire pit and everything. I'm really excited, actually. I love grilled food. There's nothing that beats a freshly grilled hot dog with relish on the beach, is there, Chuuya?"

"Piss off," is Chuuya's reply. He takes another solid step back, eyes narrowed. "Stop talking to me like we're friends. I don't like you. Leave me the hell alone."

Fyodor blinks innocently, like he's actually hurt by this statement. "Chuuya," he says, jutting out his bottom lip. "You don't mean that, do you? I like you."

Chuuya rolls his eyes and turns on the spot, preparing to leave again. "I think we both know that's not f*cking true."

The boy's smile hasn't faded. In fact, it looks like it's only gotten wider, unnaturally so. It sends a shiver down Chuuya's spine, cold and sharp. He shudders without even meaning to.

"How's Sigma?" Fyodor asks. "I haven't seen him around very much since he decided to stop hanging out with us."

Chuuya lets out another warning growl. "She, asshole. Your best friend is nonbinary, you'd think you could at least try and make an effort."

Fyodor looks actually puzzled by this. "I don't have a best friend. I like everybody equally."

Then he makes a small bowing motion, eyes wide with sincerity. "And I am truly sorry - I don't mean to misgender Sigma. You see, she didn't tell us she was planning to transition, and we didn't know until she was no longer our friend, so I haven't had the chance to get used to her new pronouns yet. But I'll do my best in the future. Apologies, again."

A group of younger kids dart by, chattering loudly and garnering both their attention. Above them, the tree that looms over the front gate sways in a soft breeze. A single leaf falling from it could probably slice right through Fyodor's thin skin, Chuuya thinks. Then he'd bleed out and die. That actually is an amusing thing to imagine.

"Whatever," Chuuya spits, after a pause. "You shouldn't ever need to talk about Sigma again, anyway, since you're leaving her alone at her request. So it doesn't matter what you do anyway."

Fyodor laughs delightedly, as though Chuuya's just said something very funny. Then he leans forward, just slightly. He looks like a child who's about to tell a very delicious secret.

"You're very funny, Chuuya," he says brightly. His eyes glint in the summer afternoon light. "I'll let you get going, now, since it seems like you're really busy. Well, have a good evening! Bye-bye!"

The look on his face disturbs Chuuya enough that he wastes no time in scampering away, bag slamming into his legs as he goes. And even as he runs out the school, across the road and past the shops and towards the waterfront, he swears he can hear three different people's laughs ringing out joyfully the entire time.

Dazai's shipping container is empty, save for the same bags he'd had there the night before. His bigger bag is missing, which gives Chuuya at least a little hope that he hasn't decided to kill himself anyway despite all the work he'd done for him. He must have gone somewhere, but he'll certainly be back later for the rest of his stuff, and Chuuya will be damned if he isn't here for it. He already walked all this way, and he will not let it be for nothing at all.

The Flags group chat buzzes a few times, mostly with Albatross making jokes about Chuuya abandoning him, but in their private messages the same boy is anxious about his whereabouts. Chuuya quickly reassures his friend that he was not kidnapped, actually, and no, he doesn't need to call the police, but it's nice that he worries about him so much. Albatross replies seconds later with rows upon rows of the middle finger emoji mixed with quite the selection of curses, but he isn't actually mad. Albatross never gets mad at Chuuya for anything. He privately thinks that something like that happening would actually make him cry a little, but he'd never give Albatross that kind of leverage over him willingly.

More than once while he's sitting there, he sees other people going back and forth through the shipyard, people dressed in rumpled clothes that stare at Chuuya with hungry eyes. It becomes rather obvious to him that this place must be a hotspot among the homeless, which he supposes makes sense. He wonders why the local council haven't done anything about this issue, or why these shipping containers have all been abandoned here for long enough that people have started living in them in the first place. They're kind of an eyesore. He would've thought someone would have complained about them before now.

He's thinking about this exact topic when Dazai finally makes his reappearance.

The boy doesn't seem to notice Chuuya's presence at first, too preoccupied with rooting through his bag which he has slung over the front of his chest so he can look with ease. However, he seems to have some kind of sixth sense for intruders, because without Chuuya even making a sound, he suddenly snaps to attention, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. His mouth is covered by a black face mask, but Chuuya can imagine his lips forming a shocked O at the sight before him. Dazai's instantly as tense as a bowstring, and Chuuya can see that he's definitely going to bolt if he doesn't say something, so he scrambles to his feet and holds out a hand, letting him know it's ok.

"Hey," he says hoarsely. "I just wanted to see if you were alright."

Dazai continues to stare without moving a muscle, not even blinking.

Chuuya's unsure of how to proceed, so he decides to just keep talking. "I was a bit worried, considering the mindset you were in the other night," he says, and reaches up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. "I kind of wanted to make sure you hadn't, like - killed yourself, or something. So I came round to check, and you weren't here, so I just waited. I haven't been here very long, only about twenty minutes. I came here after school finished for the day."

He expects Dazai to maybe relax a little with that explanation, but the boy only gets more tense, shoulders practically reaching his ears. Chuuya can see his scuffed shoes very slowly inching backwards, probably not even knowingly, just as pure terrified instinct.

"Why?" Dazai says flatly.

The mask over his face makes it very difficult to register what emotion he's feeling, but his body language is enough. Dazai is scared, and Chuuya can't really understand why. He should know he doesn't have negative intentions, because why would he? There would be no reason for him to hurt him.

Chuuya swallows, trying to act more casual than he feels. "Well, 'cause I just wanted to know you were still doing ok after I helped you. I mean, you're super young to be out on the streets by yourself. I was just a little -"

"Are there cops here?" Dazai interrupts without warning. His eyes are huge and wild. "Don't even try and lie to me. I'll know. Tell me the damn truth."

Ah, Chuuya thinks, that's the problem. He supposes that makes sense. Of course Dazai would be afraid that Chuuya had gone ahead and made the decision for him that he would be safer in the hands of the law. This kid doesn't know him. Of course he would think that.

"Jesus, no," Chuuya says, shaking his head hard. "I f*cking hate cops, Dazai. I'd find it hard calling them even if it turned out you were an actual murderer. I've dealt with enough police sh*t in my life that I wouldn't wish them upon anyone, seriously."

This doesn't seem to do anything for Dazai, so Chuuya huffs and throws his hands on his hips. "Do you need me to f*cking prove it?"

When Dazai doesn't say anything, Chuuya cups his hands around his mouth and begins to yell, loud enough that anyone in the surrounding area would definitely be immensely confused upon hearing the words he's speaking into the void.

"Legalize medicinal drugs in Japan!" Chuuya shouts. "Raise the legal age of consent! Allow easier asylum for refugees! I stand with -"

"Ok, Christ," Dazai hisses, and then he's stepped forward enough that he can grab Chuuya's wrists and yank his hands away from his face. "I get it, thanks. You're gonna get me killed, shouting that crap out here. I believe you."

To Chuuya's utmost relief, there's actually a small smile sparkling in Dazai's eyes. "I didn't take you for someone who liked cops anyway," he admits. "But damn. I believe you. So what are you actually doing here if it's not to get me taken back home?"

"I told you," Chuuya says. He looks right at Dazai, staring him directly in the eyes so nothing gets lost in translation. "I'm here to make sure you're ok. My friends say I'm too f*cking empathetic for my own good, and I guess they're right, 'cause here I am."

Dazai inspects his face, eyes again narrowed with suspicion, but evidently finds that Chuuya is telling the truth, because he finally, finally relaxes and steps back, dropping Chuuya's wrists and crossing his arms across his chest.

"Alright," he says. "Well, whatever. I've been doing fine. I have enough money to get the food I need to get by, and I have water and shelter, so it could be worse.You don't have to check up on me. I'm doing just fine."

He walks right by Chuuya, yanking the door to his shipping container fully open and stepping inside before crouching down so he can dump his bag and open it up again, looking for something.

"Well," Chuuya says, feeling a little silly all of a sudden. "I mean, I - you know I don't mind checking up on you. I'm not doing this out of some kind of obligation."

"Mhm," Dazai says, sounding unconvinced. "You just want to make sure the time you spent talking some guy down from suicide wasn't a waste, yeah?"

The worst part about this sentence is that Dazai doesn't say it with any kind of malice or self pity. He simply states it like it's nothing but a fact, casually spoken. Chuuya can't believe it.

"No," he says firmly, recoiling in shock. "Man, I meant what I said. You're just a kid, you shouldn't be out in a place like this."

"You're a kid too," Dazai says. His face is hidden as he continues rummaging through his bag. "And yet here you are."

Before Chuuya can reply, the other boy is getting back to his feet and turning around to face him. He's pulled his mask down, so he can see the bottom half of his face, the downwards curl of his lip. In his hands he holds a wad of cash, held together with a ratty looking black hairtie.

"Here," he says. "For the night I spent, and for eating your food. I really did appreciate it. I'm just not good at showing it. So how about you take this, and then you can leave me alone, alright? You don't have to keep pestering me. I'll be fine on my own."

Chuuya looks between him and the money for a long moment, so honestly shocked he can't speak.

"Jesus," he says, as soon as he can speak again. "You really are f*cking stupid, aren't you?"

Dazai flinches, shoulders flying back up towards his ears. His expression is unreadable, but it's obvious he hadn't expected a response like that. He doesn't say anything, just stares and waits for Chuuya to explain.

"I'm not gonna take money," Chuuya says, slowly, so he'll understand, "from a homeless person. Christ, Dazai, I don't want anything from you. We don't have to be friends for me to want to check in on you, alright? Can't you just accept that I'm not trying to get anything else from you? Man, and I thought you seemed smart, too."

Dazai's expression darkens at that last sentence, which had definitely been an unnecessary addition, but Chuuya can't help but be annoyed. What kind of person has he taken him for, offering him money when he's living in a dirty shipyard? Chuuya's not a f*cking monster. He just didn't want to leave him here.

Albatross's words ring in his ears. Your heart is too big.

"I don't think you should stay here," he's saying, before he can even think about what he's doing. "This place is clearly crawling with creeps, man. You're going to get killed or worse if you stay here for long, not to mention the fact that this heat is absolutely insane and the walls of your shelter are made of metal. You're going to cook yourself alive in here, or give yourself third degree burns. Can't you book a hotel room or something with that money?"

Dazai rolls his eyes, or eye, because only one is visible still. "Clearly you're the idiot out of the two of us. I need this for food, like I said. Hotels in this area are all expensive, even the really bad ones. And I can't travel. I don't have my documents."

Chuuya begins gnawing on his lip. "And you don't have any friends you could…"

Too late, he remembers what Dazai told him last night when Chuuya had asked if he had friends or family who would worry about him, and trails off. Dazai seems to understand what's shut him up, and actually laughs, shaking his head and staring somewhere behind Chuuya's head, eyes glossed over.

"Just leave it alone, chibi Chuuya," he says. He's put on a playful tone, as if that's going to make Chuuya feel any better about the horrifying situation he's in now. "You don't look big enough to be able to handle all this stress. I don't want you to explode."

And usually, Chuuya would snap at anyone who made an unwarranted joke about his height, but he's got something else on his mind right now. Something stupid, something he should definitely think about more before he suggests it.

"Come back to mine," he says loudly. "Stay with me again."

He did not think about it. He just said it. Somehow, he doesn't even regret it, not when he looks up again and meets Dazai's openly shocked expression, his large, moon-like eyes and parted lips.

"That's an idiotic suggestion," is what he says, after he's quickly sorted his face out into one of pleasant neutrality. "One night was one thing, but more than that is too much. You don't mean that."

"I do," Chuuya says passionately, and he actually does, to his surprise. "You could sleep at my place at night, and then do whatever during the day. You could keep all your stuff in my bedroom so there wouldn't be a risk of it getting stolen. It'd be perfect. Think about it."

Dazai shakes his head, blinking like he can't believe what he's hearing. "Be reasonable. Didn't you say you have a sister? Wouldn't she be opposed to keeping a stranger in her home for whoever knows how long? And that's another thing - how long would you let me stay? I'm fifteen, it's not like I can buy a home or something. I can't work. I don't have any way of earning money."

Somehow, none of this deters Chuuya in the slightest. "We don't have to tell Ozaki you're staying with me," he says. When he's excited, he speaks faster, and he's doing exactly that now, alight with hope. "She's at college all day anyway, and she respects my privacy, so she'd never burst in on me without knocking and asking first. And we'd - we'd find a way to get you somewhere to stay eventually. I've been meaning to get a part time job anyway, I could buy in extra food and stuff and then we'll figure out what we should do next. Obviously it won't be forever, but for now, it'd be good, right? I mean, what could go wrong? You'd have a safe place to sleep."

"Supposedly safe," Dazai retorts. His lips are pressed tightly together, and he's not meeting Chuuya's eyes. "You could still try and kill me. Didn't I mention to you the statistic for how many people like me get murdered per year?"

Chuuya huffs, fists clenching. "Come on, man, I thought we got past the murder thing. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead, and it'd be the same the other way round. We've both had plenty of opportunities. Clearly, neither of us are going to kill one another."

"You couldn't have killed me before," Dazai says stubbornly. "I'm always on my guard. If you'd tried anything, I would have knocked you out and escaped. I used to do gymnastics."

Chuuya lets out a laugh. "Yeah, and I do jujutsu, so. I could definitely have taken you in a fight."

"Could not," Dazai challenges. "You fell asleep right in front of me. I could have bashed your head in."

"You know, you're not making a very good case for yourself -"

"I'm not trying to!" Surprisingly, Dazai looks actually distressed, hugging himself tightly. "I think you're making a mistake!"

"How?" Chuuya asks. He loosens his posture, wringing his hands together to try and get some of his energy out. "Tell me how this would be a mistake."

"I'm a garbage person," Dazai says fiercely. His expression is serious, the joking aura from before gone. "I suck. I make people miserable. I'm extremely bipolar and I make it everybody else's problem."

Chuuya furrows his eyebrows. "Are you using bipolar as an adjective, or are you actually -"

"I'm diagnosed bipolar," Dazai says with a huff. He's visibly digging his nails into his arms, the fabric wrinkling beneath the pressure. "So I get super manic and then I get super depressed and try to kill myself a lot. I also experience actual crazy person delusions and hallucinations that make me do insane things like cut myself up. And on top of that, I'm an insomniac, so you'll have to deal with me being ultra annoying even when you're trying to sleep. That's just how I work."

That's way too much information being thrown at him all at once. Chuuya almost falters, and he's sure Dazai sees it - he recognizes the way his body tenses even further, his pupils expanding, shivering even though the sun is burning above them.

In the end, however, all Dazai's words do is make Chuuya's heart clench further. How can a boy be fifteen and have all that sh*t wrong with him? Clearly, whatever he's running from is bad, and Chuuya isn't willing to do anything that could risk sending him back. Besides, someone that mentally unwell surely can't survive out here on the streets by himself. Especially not if he'd tried to kill himself on one of the first nights he'd spent out there.

"I don't care about all that," he says firmly, and delights in the surprise Dazai instantly displays. "My friend Lippmann is bipolar, too, and my friends Piano Man and Iceman have depression, and my sister has BPD. I'm used to things like that."

Dazai shudders, as if a cold wind has just gone through him. "Your friends have dumb names," is all he says. "Are you guys in a gang or something? There's no other reason for idiotic names like those."

Chuuya chooses to ignore him, instead asking another important question. "Are you medicated, or were you? It'd be good to know if you're coming off of something, I know that can be really difficult for someone to do."

"I'm medicated," Dazai says, after a short pause. "I have enough meds to last me a little while. But I can't get a new prescription without my dad finding out. I don't know what I'll do after that."

They're silent again.

"We would figure it out," Chuuya says.

"I don't think you get this," Dazai replies coolly. "There is no we in this. You have no reason to be involved with me. I'm a bad person. You will regret doing this. I mean it."

Chuuya rolls his eyes. "You're fifteen, you can't be that terrible."

"Try me," Dazai says, eyes hot and alive. "You don't have any idea."

"You're right," Chuuya says, and he shrugs. "You're right. I don't know. So is there anything important enough that I need to know about it? Any murder convictions hanging above your head, any gangs that you've wronged in the past hunting you down?"

Dazai only stares blankly.

"Alright then," Chuuya says triumphantly. He bounces back on his heels, unable to bite back a grin. "We've got a deal, then? You agree? We've got a deal?"

It's a long moment before he replies, and when he does, his voice is low and uncertain, like he's just now realized how serious Chuuya is about all of this.

"You'll realize how terrible I am and want me gone," Dazai says, like it's a threat. "I mean it, Chuuya."

Chuuya reaches out and takes his hand. It's cold and rough, smaller than Chuuya's own. He's suddenly overcome with the strange urge to intertwine their fingers and squeeze, the way his mother used to do when he was very, very little and was scared of crossing the street, the way she used to comfort him with.

He doesn't, though, because that would be insane.

Instead, he flashes Dazai a wicked smile and says, "Just don't be terrible and everything will be ok."

It takes a moment before Dazai to smile back, seemingly against his will judging from the way his face twitches. "Fine," he says, tilting his head oh-so casually. "If Chuuya's going to be so insistent, then I suppose I don't have a choice. It would be cruel of me to deprive him of my attention if he needs it so desperately…"

"Hey!" Chuuya cries, yanking his arm. "What the hell's with the sudden change in attitude, huh? Don't think you can fool me into thinking you're being blase about this, I know you're not! And why are you suddenly referring to me in the third person? What sense does that make?"

Dazai shrugs, pursing his lips. "Evidently you're extremely stupid, inviting a stranger into your house, so maybe you won't understand me otherwise -"

"Just get your stuff and let's go, man!"

So he does exactly that, gathering all the bags up and attempting to balance them all in his arms. Chuuya offers to take one, but Dazai insists on carrying them all, probably wary of giving up his belongings to someone else for the time being. Then they begin to walk, in relative silence, in the direction of Chuuya's house where he's leading them.

It's a while before one of them says anything.

"So do I need to know anything else before we get there?" Dazai speaks up. He seems to have found a comfortable way to carry all three bags, and is shooting Chuuya a glance over the one he's currently cradling in his arms. "I know you live with your older sister, and your parents are dead, but that's basically it. Do I need to know any more important Chuuya lore, or am I good?"

Chuuya flinches at the mention of his parents, and looks away, biting down on his bottom lip. "Ah," he says, pretending to think. "Well, my sister is called Ozaki, and she's dating a woman, Yosano, who used to be my writing tutor a couple years ago when she needed extra credit for college. Now, she's studying to be a doctor -"

"Hang on," Dazai interrupts. "Your sister's dating a woman?"

Chuuya's head snaps around to shoot Dazai an immediate glare so fast he almost gives himself whiplash.

"Yes," he snaps, a note of warning in his voice. "Why, is that a problem?"

Dazai shakes his head rapidly, eyes wide. "No! I was just surprised! I hardly ever meet gay people, so I was just double checking!"

He continues to glare for an uncomfortable moment.

"You better not be hom*ophobic, man," Chuuya warns.

"I'm not," Dazai protests weakly. "I'm not a total dick, I promise."

Chuuya decides to let him off, relaxing back to how he was originally and continuing his speech from before. "Anyway, Yosano is studying to be a doctor now. She's super cool, and I love her to death, honestly, she's a wonderful person. Ozaki always makes sure I know when she's coming round, so we don't both have too many guests over. There's also Baki - Arahabaki, my dog. You met Baki. She's the sweetest little dog in the whole world, Dazai. She wouldn't hurt a fly even if you held her right in front of it. Dumb as rocks, but I love her."

Dazai lets out a low groan, but when Chuuya looks at him, his expression hasn't changed, so he decides not to ask.

"Also," he continues, facing front again. "Don't bring up my parents or anything. Especially to Ozaki. She took their… she took their deaths the hardest, so. We don't talk about them. That should be obvious, but I just figured I'd add that in, so you know. Just… yeah."

"Got it," Dazai says, voice giving nothing away about what he thinks of that.

Chuuya, again, glances in his direction and remembers how Dazai had said his only other friend had killed himself. If Dazai had ran away just a few days ago, and he'd been planning to stay with this friend originally, then he couldn't have been dead for any longer than that.

He doesn't give off the vibe of someone who's deep in mourning, apart from the whole suicide thing. But maybe Dazai is just better at masking his emotions than Chuuya is.

"You saw my friends on the beach yesterday," he says. It's weird to think that that was only yesterday. It feels like a million years ago. "I already mentioned some of their names. They're my best friends, pretty much. I have more friends at school, but they're kind of the inner circle, I guess. Albatross, the guy that shouted at you - he's my best friend of all. We've known each other since we were basically babies. You'll probably meet them at some point, since they're always in my damn business." He spares the boy another glance. "I told them about everything that happened last night, although I left out the part about you trying to kill yourself, 'cause I figured that wasn't my business to tell. So they know you exist, at least. I just haven't told them that I'm taking you back to mine, because I didn't even know myself, frankly."

"Chuuya makes stupid impulse decisions," Dazai mumbles. The bottom half of his face is hidden against the bag he's carrying. "Most teenager's impulse decisions consist of drinking alcohol and having bad sex with idiots. You just take homeless strangers home and pray they don't kill you."

Chuuya frowns. "Well, maybe if you would have let me take you to hospital, that wouldn't have happened, but I wasn't gonna just leave you in the cold after a suicide attempt. And not all my impulse decisions consist of that kind of sh*t. I drink alcohol, too, and smoke sometimes. I know people that can get me stuff."

"Wow," Dazai drawls sarcastically. "How rebellious you are. I better watch out, there's a big man on campus."

Chuuya huffs, feeling his cheeks heat up. "Are you going to make fun of me no matter what I do?"

"Yeah, I'd imagine so."

Figures.

"Well, we're getting close to my place," Chuuya says, and it's true. They're turning onto the street that connects to his, where a corner shop marks the beginning of a new area of town. The cameras on top of the squat little building watch them as they go by. "Ozaki will probably be there. I'll introduce you as one of my school friends, she won't think it's strange."

"Oh, Chuuya's Mr Popular, huh? Should I be bowing down?"

If he isn't mistaken, Chuuya can pick out a note of nervousness in Dazai's voice.

"Shut it," he says, but tries to quiet down so he doesn't stress Dazai out more. He knows he can be too loud sometimes. "Listen, just be cool and don't give my sister anything to worry about and everything will be fine. She sometimes worries about the people I hang out with, so as long as you give her a good first impression, it'll be cool. I feel like she'll like you."

"Great," Dazai says, voice coming out slightly strangled. "That sounds fantastic. I'm very excited for this."

Chuuya sighs, gnawing on the inside of his lip yet again. Dazai's expression is flickering just a little, revealing the anxiety and doubt he's feeling plain as day. He can't exactly blame him. Going round to a friend's house and meeting their family for the first time is stressful enough, nevermind what Dazai's doing right now.

"You'll be fine," Chuuya says softly, softer than he's used to being. "Seriously, don't worry about it."

They're approaching Chuuya's house now, and he can see Dazai slowing, eyes darting back and forth like he's going to flee. Chuuya nudges him to get his attention, and Dazai jumps, staring at him with wild eyes like an animal. "Relax," Chuuya stresses, holding out both his hands before him. "Ok, what I usually do when I'm sneaking sh*t into the house is hide whatever it is in the bushes beside the house and then bring it in through the window later. We can do that with your bags. Come around here, I'll show you where. I do this all the time, nothing will get stolen or anything."

Dazai, however, seems more than wary. "I want to keep this bag on me," he says firmly, clutching the biggest one close to his chest. "It has all my important things in it. I won't leave it."

"Ok," Chuuya relents, and helps Dazai bury the other two bags amongst the thick leaves that make up the bushes. The inside of it has been pretty much hollowed out after so much of Chuuya sneaking alcohol and cigarettes in and out for himself and his friends, so not much work needs to be done for it to look convincing. They take a step back to have a look at it when they're done, and without the bags covering his body, Chuuya can now clearly see Dazai shaking. He can't even imagine how scared this all must be making him. Again, he thinks about Dazai's dead friend, and his heart pangs with sympathy for the guy.

"Are you ok?" he asks quietly.

Dazai jolts, and then plasters an unconvincing smile across his face, eyes dull and dark. "Yes!" he chirps, and he pushes past Chuuya to get back towards the front of the house where the path is. "Let's just get this over with! Come on, we don't have all day to dawdle!"

Helplessly, all Chuuya can do is lead Dazai to the front door. He wishes the boy would stop pretending and just admit he's f*cking scared, because it would make this whole situation a bit easier, but that doesn't seem to be something that will happen. So he takes out his keys and fumbles to unlock the door. His heart is racing loudly in his ears.

The door swings open after too many seconds of awkward jingling and silent cursing.

"Hey, Zaki," Chuuya calls, doing his best to sound extremely normal. "I'm back. I brought a friend."

"Oh, fun," comes the reply. She sounds like she's in the living room, not too far off. "Who is it? Hang on, I'm coming, I've got Baki on my legs."

Chuuya steps over the foyer and motions for Dazai to follow, but then sees the expression on the boy's face. He looks utterly frozen, and when he meets Chuuya's eyes, he can clearly see what's written in between the lines: I can't do this.

It's too late, however, as Ozaki has just entered the kitchen, her presence felt by them both instantly. She's dressed in her fancy college clothes still, sans her heels and sheer tights. A dark green skirt billows around her legs, presumably rumpled by Arahabaki's presence, and a white blazer is slung over her shoulders, neat and pretty. Perfect as always, making Chuuya feel like he's just emerged from a trash can in comparison. He doesn't really mind - he finds their differing aesthetics quite funny. Maybe one day, Ozaki will be able to teach him her ways and get him to care about his clothes more than he does now, but not yet. Chuuya has approximately three outfits that he likes wearing, and he'll be damned if he doesn't have those to fall back on.

He sees the exact moment that his sister's eyes travel over to Dazai in the doorway and their eyes meet. To her credit, she doesn't look nearly as surprised as he's sure she feels. "Oh-h," she says, lifting her chin. "I thought you would be Sigma, that girl Chuuya's been telling me about. So who's this? I usually hear about Chuuya's friends before he brings them around."

Dazai's mouth falls open, and for a moment, Chuuya is afraid he won't be able to summon the courage to speak.

But then the other boy draws himself up, offering Ozaki a charming smile and stretches out his hand for her to shake, which she does with a pleased smile. "It's lovely to meet you, ma'am," he says, polite as anything. "I'm Dazai Osamu, one of Chuuya's classmates. I just transferred schools - terrible timing, I know, what with it being the end of the year, but my parents wanted me to get used to the layout and the people before I officially started in September."

Chuuya blinks, surprised by Dazai's sudden confidence, but quickly gathers himself and smiles. "Yeah, we've taken him under our wing," he tells Ozaki. To prove how casual they can be around one another, he nudges Dazai's arm, leaning against him for a moment before straightening up again. "He's going to help me study. And no, it's not going to be like when Tross helps me study, I promise we'll actually get work done."

"Chuuya practically begged me to help him," Dazai says, batting his eyelashes with a simpering smile. When Chuuya shoots him a pointed glare, the boy only smirks at him sweetly. "He's terrible at writing essays, so I'm going to make sure he passes his exams next year. He told me he got terrible marks this year, so I figured he might need my skills!"

This time, Chuuya's glare is much more frantic, because he definitely did not mention his exam scores to Dazai and trying to guess what they were is an awful idea, but luckily, Ozaki only laughs. "Yes, he doesn't do well with that kind of thing," she says teasingly, reaching out to ruffle her brother's hair. Chuuya yelps, going red under her touch. "It'll be good for him to have a friend who's clever with words apart from Lippmann, it seems those two can't be together for longer than two minutes without getting distracted by something stupid. They once told me they were going to study and then almost immediately started very loudly memorizing some KPOP dance routine in Chuuya's room."

"Zaki," Chuuya says desperately, palming his cheeks. "You're an asshole, Zaki, stop making fun of me! Come on, Dazai, let's go, she'll stand here being annoying forever if we don't."

Dazai, who seems delighted by this situation, only grins. "Oh, but I'd love to hear more stories about Chuuya! That is the best way to become close with a person, isn't it?" He looks at Ozaki with sparkling eyes, faux innocence written across his face. "I think Chuuya is so cool, I want to know everything about him!"

"Quit your sh*t," Chuuya says, unable to hold himself back from snapping. He reaches out to grab Dazai's hand, trying to yank him inside, but he won't budge. "At least come in so we can close the damn door."

"Oh, yes, do come inside," Ozaki says warmly. Dressed the way she is, in her good-host tone of voice, she seems more like a mother than anything, gently teasing her son in front of a new friend. You wouldn't know she was only five years older than him. "Would you like something to eat? We've got a good selection of things, plenty of snacks and drinks and whatnot."

As Dazai finally steps inside, Chuuya catches a glimpse of the hunger written across his face. He wonders if he's even eaten anything apart from the sandwich this morning. "Can Dazai stay for dinner?" he asks Ozaki. It almost makes him grin, seeing the way Dazai startles out the corner of his eye. "Since it's my night to cook and everything."

"Ah, I'll cook," Ozaki says, gliding across the floor to the fridge where she peers inside, thoughtful. "Do you have any allergies, Dazai? I can make something fancy if you don't mind it taking longer, or we can just go with frozen pizza."

"Uh," Dazai says, genuinely taken aback. "I - uh."

He meets Chuuya's eyes helplessly and shrugs. Chuuya raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for him to answer.

Dazai looks away and swallows. "Uh, I don't - I don't think so?"

Ozaki glances over, looking mildly amused. "You don't seem too certain, so perhaps sticking with pizza would be best. An allergic reaction and a rush to hospital wouldn't exactly leave the best impression of us on your family, that's for sure. Do you like pepperoni or plain cheese, Dazai? We've got one of each."

Dazai shrinks back, leaving him standing very close to Chuuya, as if he's using him as a shield against something. "I - don't mind," he says, forcing a smile. Chuuya can hear the anxiety in his voice being pushed down. "Pepperoni is good."

Chuuya shoots him a smile, and then nudges the boy's hand with his as a comforting gesture. Their thumbs brush against one another, and Dazai's breath hitches.

Unfortunately, Ozaki looks back from the fridge at that exact moment. Chuuya can't move his hand away quickly enough. He sees his sister raise her eyebrows, and he internally groans, knowing what she must be assuming. That'll be a pain to explain to her later, but he won't worry about that now.

"Pepperoni it is," Ozaki says, glancing back as she tugs the box from the crowded fridge. "I'm glad you're not a vegan like Doc. I love that kid, but he's a pain to make meals for. I've never seen someone so picky about food before."

Chuuya then realizes that Ozaki's referring to his friends so casually because he'd told her that Dazai's met them. He'll have to tell him more about them later, then. "Doc's not picky, Zaki, he's just allergic to everything," he corrects his sister. "Anyway, we're going upstairs now. Thank you for doing dinner, I appreciate it. I'll need pretty much all year to fully understand the new reading we have for Literature, so the extra study time will be good."

As Chuuya begins to pull Dazai out the room, Ozaki shoots them both a small smile, less of one with hospitality-type politeness and more of a genuine one. "I'm glad to see you taking initiative, at least," she says warmly. "Good luck with the studying. And it's wonderful to meet you, Dazai, I hope to see you around here more often if you're going to be such a good influence on my little guy."

Chuuya flushes furiously at the affectionate yet utterly embarrassing nickname. "Good bye, Ozaki," he says firmly.

"Yes, goodbye," Dazai says, glee obvious in his voice. "Thank you for dinner. You're a wonderful host."

Chuuya pulls Dazai out of the kitchen and through the living room towards the stairs before they can continue making conversation.

"You're an ass," Chuuya hisses. "Assuming my grades were sh*t. She would have thought it was weird if you were wrong, you know."

Dazai shrugs nonchalantly. "You had a writing tutor. I assumed that meant you sucked at it."

Chuuya bites at the inside of his lip too hard and nearly yelps with the pain of it. Blood blooms in his mouth, and he sighs, suddenly exhausted. "Man, f*ck you. I've probably got dyslexia or something, I'm not, like, an idiot. Also, the school system sucks. I bet whatever homeschool tutor you had was better than half the teachers at my school."

Dazai shrugs again, giving nothing away. "I don't think you're an idiot. I don't know you well enough for that. But, you know, I really can try and help you study if you like. I'm a very good writer, and it's the least I can do, honestly."

"I don't need any pity because I'm bad at writing," Chuuya groans. The stairs creak as he starts staggering up them, slowly. "Anyway, subject change, what did you think? Not changed your mind about all this, have you?"

The other boy cracks a smile. "Your sister seems nice. She didn't even question that I'm not wearing a school uniform."

Oh. Chuuya hadn't thought about that. "Well, you - you had time to have gone home and gotten changed," he says uncertainly. "I doubt she cares about that. She seemed to like you, so she's not gonna look into any of your weird stuff with too much suspicion."

"What can I say," Dazai says, and he preens and flips his hair. "I'm a charmer at heart."

Chuuya doesn't reply, too busy pointedly avoiding looking at the pictures along the wall again.

He can practically feel Dazai looking at them, and he desperately wishes that he had just taken them down when he'd wanted to before. When he glances back, very casually, he sees a look on Dazai's face, and follows his eyes to the particular picture he's looking at before internally groaning. He probably hadn't noticed this morning, what with how quickly they had to get ready to leave and everything. That's so annoying.

The knowledge of what Dazai is definitely thinking right now weighs on Chuuya's mind, even as they get to the top of the stairs where his bedroom awaits and neither of them have to look at the photographs anymore. Maybe it'd be better to just get it all out there. That way, they won't have to talk about it again.

"You can ask, you know," Chuuya says. He stops where he is, refusing to look in Dazai's direction. "I know you want to."

"About what?" Dazai says cautiously.

"The guy in the photos," Chuuya says. He taps his fingernails on his room's doorknob, not opening it yet. "Every time I have someone new come around, they always want to ask, so."

"Oh," Dazai says. He lingers behind Chuuya, not stepping any closer. "Well, I would have ordinarily figured that he was just an older brother who moved out, but considering…"

He doesn't continue, leaving that thought hanging in the air.

Chuuya sighs again.

"Yeah, he's dead too," he says casually. Finally, he pushes the door open, kicking aside some clothes he left on the floor. in the hurry from earlier. "Awesome stuff that we don't need to discuss anymore. Just figured I'd get all my sh*t out in the open, just so it's not awkward later. Dead parents. Dead brother. Lots of fun for everyone."

He comes to a stop in the middle of the room and faces Dazai again, putting on a brave face and smiling wide, stretching his arms out wide to show off the room before them.

"So here we are," he says, in a tone too bright for the situation. "Our new shared place of residence, until we find somewhere that a fifteen year old can live on his own without being murdered."

Dazai, who'd previously looked a little uncomfortable, lets out a sudden bark of a laugh.

"Hooray," he says, and follows Chuuya to the centre of the room, where he holds his hand out for a handshake like he had with Ozaki downstairs. "Hopefully it'll be a pleasure living with you, Parasite style."

Chuuya cracks a grin, a real one this time, and grabs Dazai's hand to shake it roughly. "Hopefully so!"

Then they both let go and stare around the room, probably both suddenly coming to the exact same conclusion - this room really isn't designed for more than one person to live in it.

This is going to be… interesting.

Chapter 3: oh ocean, now i come again before you

Chapter Text

Chuuya spends the next several days trying to make himself believe that he does not regret his decision to let Dazai stay.

The fact of the matter is that Dazai Osamu is the most infuriating person Chuuya has ever known in his life. And he knows Albatross. He seriously never thought he'd meet someone more irritating than him, but here he is. Living with the most arrogant weirdo he's ever had the misfortune to meet.

Here is a list that Chuuya has been keeping of things about Dazai that really f*cking piss him off.

Number one: he is so f*cking lazy.

"Nooo," he whines, when Chuuya tries to make him get up on the first full day he stays over. "I wanna go back to sleep, don't make me move. This is so ev-illl, let me go back to bed, Chuuya!"

"I have to tidy my damn room," Chuuya snaps back. He crosses his arms across his chest and kicks the side of Dazai's futon. "And it's eight am. That's a perfectly normal time to get up."

Dazai groans, curling himself up further in the covers. His uneven curls peek out of the top, sticking straight up in the air. "A perfectly normal time to get up for a maniac," he says curtly. "I didn't even get to sleep until four in the morning."

"It's also a normal time to get up for a student," Chuuya reminds him. He kicks the futon again with an ounce more irritation behind it. He really is annoyed. He has to get to school soon and he doesn't want to leave his room in a state. "Which I am. And I don't care what time you went to sleep. That's not my business. Get up."

A singular dark brown eye and a white patch poke out, staring warily in Chuuya's direction. He sleeps in that thing? "I'm an insomniac," Dazai whines. Chuuya can practically hear the pout in his voice. "It's not my fault."

Chuuya doesn't budge. "Should have tried harder."

Dazai gasps loudly, sitting straight up and letting the covers pool around his waist. The buttons on the checkered red pajama shirt Chuuya had given him are done up wrong.

"That is a terrible attitude to have towards someone's mental health," he chides, wagging a finger like a disapproving parent. "If I killed myself today, would you come to my funeral and say I should have tried harder?"

"No," Chuuya says, and delivers one final kick to the futon before he turns around to grab his schoolbag and take a glance in the mirror to see if his hair looks at least vaguely acceptable. "I wouldn't go to your funeral at all. I'd stay at home and play Street Fighter with my friends and forget you existed entirely by the end of the night."

Dazai glares at him the entire time he's rushing about, clipping back his hair and hunting for his boots.

"You're a terrible roommate," he mutters, still pouting. But, at last, he finally begins to get up, stretching his arms above his head. "But fine. I'll just sleep in your bed instead."

Chuuya whips his head around to look at him so fast he finds himself seeing stars.

"You will not," he says loudly. "Not if you want to continue living in my house."

"You wouldn't kick me out," Dazai replies. For someone who had been so unsure just yesterday, he sounds very confident about this. "You've got too big of a heart."

The sarcastic way in which he says this pisses Chuuya off, but he doesn't have time to do anything about it. All he can do is bare his teeth at Dazai and stomp his large boots on the floor in a threatening manner. "Touch my bed and you die," he says seriously. "I mean it."

Dazai bats his eyes sweetly. "Promise?"

Chuuya doesn't bother offering up a reply as he slams the bedroom door shut behind him.

When he comes home from school that day, however, he comes up to his room after a quick conversation with Ozaki to find Dazai curled up in his bed on his phone.

"What the hell?" Chuuya hisses, and darts across the room to try and push the boy off onto the floor. But he clings to the covers with the intensity of someone who believes he'd die if he let go, and yowls like a cat so loudly that Chuuya is forced to stop shoving him and instead slap a hand over his mouth. "Shut up and get off my bed, man, Ozaki's gonna hear you and then what am I gonna say? That you were waiting in my room all day for me to come home?"

Instead of receiving a response, he gets an innocent, doe eyed stare and a disgustingly slimy sensation dragging across his palm.

"Eugh!" Chuuya shrieks. He recoils like he's just been burned and wipes his hand on his jumper, eyes bulging. "What's wrong with you, why would you f*cking lick me? You don't know where my hand has been!"

Dazai just shrugs.

"I was sleeping," he whines. "You woke me up."

"I did not," Chuuya retorts, irritation swelling in his chest. "You were on your phone. I'm not f*cking stupid."

"You sure look it," Dazai says with a shrug. He looks terribly self satisfied, spreading his gangly limbs out across the bed. "Didn't I tell you you'd regret letting me live with you, chibi Chuuya?"

Chuuya bites back an animalistic growl that threatens to leave his throat. "Yes, but I didn't think you'd make me regret it purposefully."

The younger just shrugs again and tosses his hands behind his head.

This is not the only occasion in which this happens. For two out of the three following days, Chuuya comes home to find Dazai on his bed. He's never actually asleep, but he claims to be each time, which is so annoying that Chuuya actually wants to throw him out of the window. And whenever he manages to actually get Dazai off, he'll spend the next couple hours complaining, rolling around on the floor and acting as though he'd been beaten.

In the end, it's just not worth it. So Chuuya reluctantly lets Dazai keep the futon out during the day, so if he wants to stay in the house while Chuuya's at school, he'll at least have somewhere to sit that isn't his.

Number two of the things that piss Chuuya off about Dazai: he's so obnoxious.

"Look, Chuuya," he says, on the second day of their arrangement. "I just caught a Bulbasaur outside your window."

Chuuya, from where he's studying at his desk, clenches his fist so hard he nearly breaks his pen.

"I swear to god," he begins, voice rising in pitch, "if you don't shut up about that f*cking game -"

"You ought to get it," Dazai interrupts. Chuuya can hear him clattering about behind him, and then he's pulling up and plopping down on the windowsill beside the desk. He's dressed in that ugly pinstripe shirt again, grinning like an idiot and revealing those dumb braces that line his teeth. "It's really good at making you do exercise. I used to have no motivation to get up and do stuff, but then I found this game and now I'm always going on walks so I can get more Scatterbug candies and do raids for Legendaries. I'd friend you if you downloaded it, Chuuya. I promise it's so much fun."

Chuuya wants to bang his head off the desk. "f*ck off," he says through gritted teeth. "I told you to leave me alone while I'm studying. And I also told you that I'd rather die than download Pokemon Go just to make you happy."

He won't tell Dazai that Albatross made him download that game about a year ago and that he already has an account full of Pokemon and special items somewhere on his phone. He'd never shut up then.

There's a few moments in which his pen is allowed to scratch across the paper before he feels Dazai's presence slowly getting closer as he leans in next to Chuuya's ear.

He waits, taking deep, calming breaths like his therapist taught him, and then turns to meet Dazai's eyes with an unimpressed glare.

The boy is much closer than he'd expected. Delight fills Chuuya at the way Dazai minutely jumps and flushes, clearly not expecting utter silence in response to his antics instead of Chuuya shoving him away or shouting at him. But he recovers quickly, flashing a toothy grin and giggling as he casts his eyes down to Chuuya's paper.

"That's wrong," he suddenly says, and prods his finger against the last line Chuuya wrote. "The rise of the samurai was during the Kakamura shogunate, not the Tokugawa shogunate." He purses his lips and bobs his head and drags his finger alongside Chuuya's text as he reads. "You got the dates right, though. What a clever boy you are, chibi!"

Chuuya curls his hand up into a fist and punches Dazai's hand away, feeling no sympathy for the way he yelps. "I f*cking know all this, jackass," he says angrily, and grabs his pen to scribble out his mistake with a little too much force. "If I didn't have some bastard blabbering on and distracting me, maybe I wouldn't get sh*t wrong. Ever think of that?"

He writes in the correct name and then turns to shoot Dazai a glare, snorting at the way he's pouting and rubbing his hand.

"Why'd you know that off the top of your head, anyway?" he mutters. He bites at the end of his pen absently as he speaks. "Strange bit of knowledge to have for no reason."

"Huh," Dazai grunts, looking displeased. "Just because I'm homeschooled doesn't mean I'm stupid. I know things too." He stands up straight again, and for a brief moment, Chuuya misses the warmth of his breath next to his ear. But that's weird, so he shakes that thought off as Dazai continues. "I enjoy the history of samurai. I think it's interesting. Do you know what seppuku is, chibi dog?"

Chuuya sighs deeply, rolling his eyes. "I get the feeling I'm going to find out whether I want to or not."

"Seppuku is a form of ritualistic suicide through the act of disemboweling oneself," Dazai explains. He's sat himself down on the windowsill again, twiddling his thumbs. (Number three on the list of things about Dazai that piss Chuuya off - the guy does not know how to sit still.) "It was originally used by samurai only as part of their code of honour, but lots of other people started doing it too after that. It was even a form of capital punishment at one point. Anyway, seppuku was used by samurai to be a more honourable way of dying rather than falling into enemy hands and being tortured to death. The people who did it tended to be decapitated afterwards, too, just to make sure they were completely dead and didn't have to bleed out in agony."

Chuuya wrinkles up his nose, suddenly feeling sick. "Eugh. Of f*cking course that's a fact you know off the top of your head. You're literally such a freak, you know that?"

Dazai only grins. Dark hair tumbles into his face, and he shakes his head sharply to remove it. "Yeah," he says simply. "I do know. Oddly enough, you're not the first person to have said so."

He suddenly gets back up, again, with a gasp and a wave of his hands. "I completely forgot, but I actually have a whole book on this," he tells Chuuya, delight in his voice. He darts across the room and yanks his bags out from under the bed to pull something out of one of them. It's a plain red and white book. It's clearly well loved, the pages visibly dog-eared and filled with coloured page markers. Dazai practically bounces as he makes his way back over. "It's The Complete Guide to Suicide. I know how gorey that sounds, but it's more or less just a history of all the different ways people have committed suicide in the past. It's utterly fascinating. Did you know that in 1977, some guy killed himself by allowing himself to be trampled to death by camels?"

He continues to grin despite Chuuya's clearly repulsed grimace.

"Jesus," Chuuya mutters. He shakes his head and spins back around in his chair. "You've got something deeply f*cking wrong with you. Clearly, whoever gave you that book literally hates you."

"I stole it from a library," Dazai says nonchalantly. He sits back down, again, at the windowsill, and pulls out his phone. "I was the only person who ever checked it out, anyway, so nobody even noticed. The librarian loved me, anyway, she never would have suspected me of stealing."

Chuuya scowls. "You were right. You are a bit of a garbage person."

Dazai pouts. "So mean. Is Chuuya going to kick me out now that he's found out I stole a library book once?"

"Obviously f*cking not," Chuuya says, and picks up his pen again. To his annoyance, he notes that the tip has mildly exploded and there is now ink all over his hand. Luckily, it seems to have mostly missed his paper, so he can clean it easier. "I used to steal library books all the time, but I was, like, twelve, and I didn't do it on purpose. I just forgot to return them. That was actually one of the things that got me diagnosed with ADHD, if you would believe it. My parents thought I was an idiot."

This is said with an unintentional note of bitterness that he hopes Dazai doesn't look too deeply into.

It seems that he doesn't, because he changes the subject. "Good for Chuuya. Why are you writing a paper when your school year is just about to end, anyway? Shouldn't you be drinking bad alcohol and bothering employees at the local malls right about now?"

Chuuya huffs. "It's extra credit," he mumbles, dipping his nose closer to the paper as he writes. "Because I got a sh*t grade in History and my teacher gave me a chance to rewrite the paper that I messed up on. But don't mention that to Ozaki. She'll be mad at me for not trying hard enough."

Dazai's silent for a moment.

"What are you good at in school?" he asks.

Chuuya shrugs, feeling his face go pink. "Physics," he says. "Maths. Not this writing, memorizing-dumb-sh*t stuff. I like stuff that makes a bit more f*cking sense. Like, I don't have to remember the symbolic representation for the change in gravitational potential energy. I just know it."

He thinks Dazai might make fun of him for that, but he actually doesn't. He tosses his weird suicide book aside and slides closer along the windowsill, an enthusiastic look on his face. "I could tutor you," he says with sparkling eyes. "I know all of this stuff. I could even just write the essay for you. I haven't written a good essay in a long time."

Anger flares up in Chuuya's chest at that, and he feels the tips of his ears begin to burn. "f*ck off," he says, gritting his teeth. "I'm not stupid either. I'm capable of writing an essay. If you want to write one, go ahead and do it in your own time. I don't need your help."

Dazai only shrugs. "Suit yourself."

They don't bring it up again after that.

Number four on the list of things about Dazai that piss Chuuya off: He loves to act like a helpless idiot even though he knows damn well what he's doing. All the time.

For instance, when he pretended to get stuck on the drain pipe outside Chuuya's room while Ozaki was in the house, just to see him freak out.

"Can't I come through the door?" he whines, as Chuuya leans outside his window with his foot hooked around his desk leg to keep from falling out. He makes no motion to help as Chuuya yanks him up, groaning under the weight of him. "You can just tell your sister that I'm here to help you study."

"You can't be - seen here - every day," Chuuya reminds him through heavy breaths. "She'll think it's weird - don't want her getting - the wrong idea -"

Finally, he heaves Dazai through the window and onto the floor. Unfortunately, this means that Chuuya loses his own balance as the entire weight of a skinny fifteen year old boy collapses on top of him, and he goes crashing to the floor, just barely missing hitting his head hard off the side of the desk.

"Ouch," Dazai whines, from where he'd landed hard on Chuuya's chest.

"You're saying ouch?" Chuuya grunts. He tries to push himself up, but Dazai doesn't seem keen on moving at all, and stays perfectly limp instead. "Your landing was cushioned by me, you dick. Get off of me. I can't f*cking breathe."

Dazai, instead of getting off of his chest, props his head up on his hands and stares at Chuuya's face. And for a moment, Chuuya really can't breathe, because there's a weird look in Dazai's eye that makes him look much younger. Not only that, but he finds himself noticing a couple things he hasn't seen before - that there is the smallest smattering of freckles across the bridge of Dazai's nose, that he has dimples when he smiles, that his eyelashes are long enough to bat across his cheek when he blinks.

He's pretty, Chuuya supposes. Not that he hadn't already been able to recognize that, but being this close confirms it. And isn't that annoying. Of course the prettiest boy he's met since discovering he was bisexual is the most irritating person who's ever walked the earth.

But of course, he has to go and ruin it.

"Chuuya thinks I'm fat," he wails, and drops his head onto Chuuya's chest with a thunk.

"I do not," Chuuya says, frustrated, and pushes Dazai off of him, hard enough that even his stubborn grip isn't enough to keep him from tumbling to the floor. He sits up and brushes himself off, ignoring the flush that's ignited on his face. "You actually look pretty underweight to me, not that it's my business. But even a skinny motherf*cker like you is heavy enough to hurt when you land full force on my chest." Then for good measure: "Asshole."

Dazai just blinks up at him from the floor, watching Chuuya get to his feet and head back towards his bed where he'd been sitting, watching a video while he waited for Dazai to return. He wouldn't admit it to Dazai, not ever, but he does worry when he's not there when Chuuya gets home from school. He doesn't exactly like Dazai, but he doesn't want to see his ass on the news after he threw himself in the river and died, either.

"Chuuya has to help me get up," Dazai laments quietly. "I don't know how anymore. All my bones shattered when Chuuya pushed me off of him like the brute he is."

"Uh huh," Chuuya says, unsympathetically. "Stay there, then, and shut up so I don't have to hear you."

Chuuya realizes a little later that he's never actually been that close to a boy who wasn't one of his direct circle of friends, which is weird. He's dated a couple girls in his lifetime, and he's kissed them, kind of, if the clumsy facial collisions that they had called kissing when they were little and in elementary school counted. That's probably why Dazai being an inch away from his face was so distracting. It's something he's never really gotten the opportunity to do before.

Number five on the list of things about Dazai that piss Chuuya off: the weird thoughts along that same vein that he's making Chuuya have.

It's not that Chuuya doesn't know he's bisexual, because he obviously does. He has for a few months - not that it was difficult to figure out. In fact, maybe he's known all his life. But it was only recently that he told his friends and family, all of whom were completely supportive, and finally accepted it entirely for himself. He's bisexual, and likes both boys and girls. That's fine and well with him.

However, that doesn't mean he's fine with the idea that he has a crush on Dazai.

Not that he does. Because he doesn't. Obviously. They barely know each other, and Dazai's so irritating that it practically negates his good looks. If Chuuya was going to have a crush on anyone, it wouldn't be him. For sure.

Anyway. He has more things he could list. Such as -

"If you're tired of hearing Chuuya talk about all the reasons why he can't stand his new roommate, say aye."

"Aye."

"Aye."

"Double aye."

"Aye!"

"You guys all f*cking suck, you know that?"

They're at the lunch table at school, and it's a Friday afternoon. There are approximately three more weeks of school. Which makes three more weeks to catch up on all his study, and fix his grades before Ozaki finds out he's failing everything and hires him another tutor. Which would just about be the most embarrassing thing in the world.

That's not his current concern, though.

"Why won't you just introduce us to him?" Albatross asks. His tie is loose around his neck, and he's tugging on the end of it, twirling it around his finger as he stares at Chuuya a little too intently. "We could get to judge for ourselves whether he really is the worst or if you're just being dramatic."

"Oh, come on, you know I'm not being dramatic," Chuuya scoffs. He shoves his bento box away from him across the table; he hasn't found himself with much of an appetite lately. "You all believe me, right? That he's the absolute worst?"

Lippmann pipes up before he's even fully finished his sentence. "Chuuya, there was no doubt about the fact that he's the absolute worst. We just think that, if we met him, maybe we would be able to understand him better and finally be able to give you better advice for how to handle the situation."

Chuuya's about to spit a hot reply before something about Piano Man's expression, from where he's currently trying to hide his mouth behind his hands, catches his attention.

"..." He narrows his eyes, suddenly slumping back in his chair with his arms crossed. "You guys are just making sh*t up so you can meet Dazai and make fun of me because Tross has been trying to convince you guys I'm into him, aren't you?"

"No-o," Albatross yowls, slapping his hands on the table. Beside him, Akutagawa sighs deeply and sinks further into his seat, face buried in his phone. The other boy takes no notice. "Chuu-yaaa, do you really think I'd do that to you -?"

"Yes," Chuuya says bluntly. "Absolutely. Don't you remember that the reason Yuan and I dated at all was because we bonded over making fun of how convinced you were that we had crushes on each other?"

Albatross's indignant scowl melts into a self satisfied smirk. "Well, yes, in fact I do. So, you see, I actually do have a fantastic radar for when you're into someone, and I should be trusted when I say you have a thing for Dazai -"

"A-ha!" Chuuya practically leaps out of his seat and stares pointedly at each person at the table with bulging eyes. He can feel some other students looking at him from across the room. "I f*cking knew it! You all think I'm a f*cking idiot!"

"Language, Nakahara-kun," comes a voice, and Chuuya jumps upon seeing one of his teachers, Shibusawa, passing by with raised eyebrows and arms crossed across his neat white suit. "The whole cafeteria can hear you."

Chuuya huffs and flops back down, cheeks blazing in silence until the teacher has passed by and vanished from their line of sight.

Doc lets out muffled giggles into his palms.

"I would like to state," Higuchi says after a moment, raising a hand. "None of us had an involvement in this whole thing. We're staying out of this. It was all them."

When she says us, she gestures towards herself, Akutagawa, Tachihara and Sigma. When she says them, she gestures towards the Flags, who all look equally guilty, as expected.

"Way to throw us under the bus, Ichiyō," Lippmann chirps lightly, but he's smiling, studying Chuuya's anger from where he's propped his face up with his hands. "Chuu-ya, we don't want to make fun of you. We just want to hang out with your new roommate!"

Albatross, having just stuffed an eggroll into his mouth, nearly chokes with the effort it takes to speak around it. "Yeah, and I wanna see his collection of Pokemon," he says, or tries to. Soy sauce dribbles out of the corner of his mouth. "If we became friends, I'd finally have someone new to trade and battle with. Wouldn't you prefer that, Chuuya? I could finally quit pestering you to play the game with me!"

Akutagawa, rolling his eyes, silently pulls a clean tissue from his pocket and passes it to Albatross, tapping the side of his mouth to demonstrate where the mess is when the boy only looks confused.

"You could really quit pestering me anytime," Chuuya says, mildly amused as he watches Albatross smear sauce around his face. "I'm telling you guys, you want nothing to do with Dazai. He's infuriating. Endlessly infuriating. It's like he was sent here from Hell to torment me for some crime I committed in a past life."

A snort from across the table draws his eye, and he turns to see Sigma stabbing her sushi with lilac patterned chopsticks, snickering to herself. "So we've heard," she says to him, raising perfectly shaped eyebrows. "But you're the one letting him live in your house."

"It's not like I have much choice," Chuuya says weakly. "He's homeless. I can't just kick him out. None of you saw where he was living before, it was so f*cking bad. He'll die out there."

"I'll agree with Chuuya in that it is a complex situation," Tachihara speaks up. He hasn't said a word for all of lunch until now, but apparently he's been listening, because he's sitting up now, eyes alight with interest. "He's said before that this guy, this Dazai, was probably in an abusive situation before, so police or social services aren't an option. Apart from that, the only other thing he could really do would be to leave him where he was and maybe visit him every so often, but even that's not such an easy choice to make. If he got hurt while he was out there, Chuuya would feel responsible. You all know how he is."

"Thank you, Michizō," Chuuya says, relieved to finally have someone on his side. Then he blinks. "Can I call you Michizō? I never thought to ask."

"Yeah, man," Tachihara replies. "I call you Chuuya. Might as well."

The others have all been quiet through this whole exchange, eyebrows furrowed as they think to themselves. It makes Chuuya relax a little, now that they're all realizing that his situation isn't as easy as they make it sound. He might know that he's not a complete idiot and that, like it or not, he's doing a good thing, but being laughed at every time he tries talking too much about Dazai hasn't been helping. It makes him wonder what the rest of his friends might have done, if they'd been the ones to find Dazai on the beach.

The fact that Dazai is mentally ill and actively suicidal is still a secret that he hasn't shared. Maybe if he did, maybe if they knew how scared Chuuya had been when he'd seen the boy in the water, about to slip underneath, they would understand. But he won't give away Dazai's private matters without his permission, because he'd feel wrong about doing so. The others will just have to fill in the blanks themselves.

"I still believe telling Ozaki would be the best course of action," Doc speaks up. His lunch has been nothing but picked at, and most of his bento has been placed on Iceman's plate instead, carrots and eggs and salad left in a sad, limp pile. Doc doesn't look bothered by his lack of lunch, hands folded underneath his chin as his gaze bears into Chuuya like twin lasers. "She has a clever head on her shoulders. I believe she would know what to do."

"That's the thing," Chuuya argues, a little frustrated. His boots tap anxiously off the floor. "There is no correct move to make in this situation. Getting authorities involved would be a betrayal of Dazai's trust, and would potentially put him in danger. And letting him stay indefinitely…"

He trails off, but Piano Man, ever the mind reader, picks up his train of thought and speaks it aloud. "If his father were to come looking for him, it could mean huge trouble for you."

Chuuya lets out a sigh instead of replying.

They've had this same conversation numerous times throughout this last week. It doesn't seem like they'll be coming to a reasonable conclusion anytime soon.

They eat their lunch quietly for a minute or two.

"I'd still like to meet him," Albatross says timidly into the silence.

"Tross," Lippmann says, smacking the side of his head. "Drop it, why don't you?"

But Chuuya has had enough messing around, and sits himself up with purpose, leaning forward so he can be clearly heard. "Ok, how f*cking many of you really wanna meet this bastard, huh?"

Albatross's hand shoots straight up, shameless as he is. After a moment, a few more hands slowly raise - Lippmann's, Sigma's, Tachihara's, Doc's and Piano Man's. A second later, and all of them have their hands in the air, except for Akutagawa. He is still focused on eating, not even looking up at the rest of them as he chows down on the wrap he bought from the cafeteria.

There's a pause before he notices what they're all up to and rummages for his earbuds, hidden underneath his hair, to remove one and make his intentions clear. "I have no interest in whatever the lot of you are doing."

"Oh, come on, Ryuu," Albatross whines, reaching across his chest to hold his arm in an upright position. "Don't you wanna meet Chuuya's new roommate? It'd be so much fun to get to know him, don't you think?"

Akutagawa blinks. "Is that what you're up to? Hm… Well, perhaps. I don't really care, though. And stop calling me Ryuu. Only my sister can call me that. I'm Akutagawa to you."

"Ok, Ryuunosuke, then," Albatross says, like it's a compromise. He turns to face Chuuya, delight on his face. "So? Yes or no?"

Chuuya scowls at the hope on his friend's faces.

"Fine," he snaps, returning his attention to his food and attempting to ignore their cheerful whoops. "If you all behave. If you don't, I'm never letting any of you near him again, ever, and I mean this so seriously."

"Hooray!" Albatross yells, punching his fist in the air. Behind him, Lippmann and Doc high five. "New friend! New friend! New friend!"

"Albatross-kun," they all hear Shibusawa shout from the teacher's lunch table. "If you would keep your voice down!"

Albatross laughs, too excited to even care. "Sor-ry, sensei!"

Chuuya regrets this already.

The second he gets in from school, he bolts upstairs to his room - Ozaki isn't there to be greeted like usual, but he doesn't care to question why just yet - and throws the door open.

Dazai is sitting at his desk next to the window, almost certainly playing that stupid game, slumped over with his chin on his arms. He glances over, almost bored, then promptly looks back at the phone screen again.

"Hey," he drones, his head jolting as he speaks. "Your sister hasn't been here yet. I've been listening. I suppose she's late today."

Chuuya doesn't answer, just slings his bag off and flops onto his bed to begin untying his shoelaces.

The silence seems to successfully get Dazai's attention, because Chuuya can practically feel his gaze bearing into him despite not facing his direction. He learned very quickly that Dazai hates the quiet, hates feeling like he's being ignored. But he's not doing it on purpose, this time - he's just thinking.

"What's up?" the younger asks, always eager to know all of Chuuya's thoughts so he can bother him with them. "Are you gonna be in a mood all evening?"

"I'm not in a mood," Chuuya mutters, and then swivels around on the bed to face Dazai. Despite the heat, he's drowning in a thick black hoodie with the name of a band Chuuya's never heard of before written on it. It's strange. Doesn't look like the kind of thing Dazai of all people would be into. He shakes the thought off and drops the bomb. "My friends want to meet you."

Dazai blinks. "Oh-h."

His expression has gone very blank, and stays that way for just a moment before he cracks a mischievous grin. "Have you been telling them what a terrible roommate I am? Are they in awe? I'm sure nothing you've said about me has been nice."

"Man, you are the f*cking worst," Chuuya says, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. He's getting a headache, probably from the combination of his red hair and the heat. "They know all about you and your sh*t. I frankly don't know why they would want to spend their time with you. Probably because they don't believe just how terrible you are."

The boy lets out a shrill giggle, sounding almost manic. He drops his phone to spin around in the chair, tugging at the strings of his hoodie. "So when I meet up with them, I should bat my eyelashes and pretend to be a perfect little angel so they all think you're crazy, right?"

Chuuya rolls his eyes, hard, as he yanks at his tie to try and shuck it off. "I wouldn't put it past you."

Then he pauses his movements, gnawing slowly at his bottom lip. "I… didn't tell them about your attempt. Or any of your mental health stuff. So - yeah. You don't have to worry about them knowing that."

He doesn't look at Dazai, but he can practically feel him stiffen in shock, and then relax again. "Huh," the boy murmurs to himself, a note of… something that Chuuya can't quite detect in his voice. "How sweet of Chuuya to keep that a secret for me."

Chuuya's about to clear his throat and try to find a way to segue the conversation again, feeling rather flustered, but then Dazai keeps going, grinning wickedly. "Is Chuuya embarrassed of my poor mental health -"

"Oh, shut up," Chuuya says loudly, balling up his tie and throwing it at Dazai's head. "You know that's not true, you dick. So, what do you think about it? Meeting up with my friends?"

Dazai hums noncommittally, and Chuuya is just about to chastise him for being purposefully annoying when there's a knock on his bedroom door.

They both look at each other like deer in headlights. Evidently, neither of them had heard the front door open. Has Ozaki been standing there for a while? How much had she heard?

Luckily enough, Dazai shouldn't need to hurry to hide. It's early enough in the afternoon that him being here is justifiable.

After silently confirming this with the other boy, who stiffly nods to affirm it, Chuuya clears his throat and tries to sound normal. "What's up, Zaki?"

"Can I come in?" is her response. The tone of her voice is, as always, unreadable.

Chuuya swallows. "Uh, yeah, that's cool."

The door swings open, creaking as it does so. Ozaki has very clearly just gotten in the door, still in her college friendly clothes, which currently consists of a pleated knee-length skirt and a pretty red top that somehow doesn't clash with her hair. She looks unsurprised to see them both, something that sends jolts of anxiety through Chuuya. A smile is painted neatly across her face.

"Hello, you two," she says. She taps her crimson painted nails off of the doorway. "I didn't know you'd be here, Dazai, I do apologize for busting in."

"No worries, Kouyou-san," Dazai says with a charming grin and a subtle bow from the chair he's still perched in. His entire manner changed when Ozaki walked in, as if he'd become a perfectly pleasant boy who would never hurt a fly. How irritating. "It is your home, after all."

Ozaki raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. Chuuya had instructed Dazai to use the name Kouyou after they met - their mother's maiden name, which Ozaki has claimed for her own use. He can tell hearing Dazai use it, especially with the pleasant san at the end of it, pleases her more than she'd admit. "Ah, haven't I told you that you can simply call me Ozaki? Goodness, Chuuya, this boy is so polite, he could even do Albatross some good, don't you think?"

Chuuya does his best not to mime vomiting like he so wants to, nodding instead. "He probably could."

His sister snickers and finally gets to the point. "Akiko's coming round. She's in the driveway just now. I figured I would let you know in case you wanted to be in the living room tonight - we'll both be in there watching a movie, but if you want to sit with us, we wouldn't mind."

Chuuya feels a smile cross his face. "Maybe I'll take you up on that offer," he says teasingly, "if you guys can avoid making out for that long -"

"Shut up," Ozaki says, unfazed. "You are disgusting. Dazai, you're welcome to join us as well. I'm sure you'd love Akiko - my girlfriend, if Chuuya hadn't told you. She's going to order us all takeout as celebration for passing all her final exams."

A shriek escapes Chuuya's lips before he has a chance to bite it back. "She passed?"

"Of course," Ozaki says, looking entirely delighted. "Did you really believe otherwise?"

"No," Chuuya says, unable to stop grinning. "But she sure did. I was worried she'd explode from the stress of studying while also trying to get me to understand Literature. I'm super happy for her, seriously, I know how much this means to her."

Ozaki slumps further against the doorway, relaxed and smiling. Chuuya loves when she looks like this. So effortlessly happy. "Well, you can tell her so when she comes inside. Make sure to come downstairs and tell us what you want for dinner around five or so, that's when we'll be ordering. Is that ok with you both?"

"Of course," Chuuya says, answering for Dazai too because he's can sense how tense the boy has gotten and knows he isn't about to speak. "We'll be down."

Ozaki eyes the room one more time before she leaves, clicking the door shut behind her. A few beats of silence pass while they wait for the familiar creak that signifies she's going downstairs, and then they both breathe again.

"That gives us something to do tonight, I guess," Chuuya says. He turns to take a look at Dazai's, who's oddly focused on something outside the window. "You'll like Yosano. She's really sweet. I wouldn't have passed my last year in school if not for her."

Dazai's still silent.

"Dazai," Chuuya says, frowning. Shuffling over, he taps the boy on the shoulders to get that large brown eye focused on him again. "What's up?"

It takes a moment for him to be able to open his mouth, regardless of how casual he's trying to seem about it all. His hands are knotting his hoodie strings over and over, tying and untying. "Well," he murmurs, looking somewhere just past Chuuya. "I don't wish to intrude. I can make up some excuse to leave and just climb back in the window later."

Chuuya's frown deepens with concern. "Dazai, no. Yosano is lovely, you'll really like her, I promise. She wouldn't think you were butting in, my friends are here all the time and she loves them all. I'm sure she'd be more than happy with the chance to get to know you."

Dazai clearly hesitates, and Chuuya can immediately see that something more is wrong. Alarm bells go off in his mind.

"Can you tell me what's really wrong?" he tries. "Come on. I don't want to keep them waiting down there."

Dazai inhales sharply, and his next exhale is rather shaky, played off with a small laugh and a casual looking shrug. "You, ah," he starts, still focused on his hoodie string. "You told me she's a med student."

"Yeah," Chuuya says slowly, not understanding.

The other boy's shoulders creep up towards his ears. "I don't like doctors."

That's all it is? Chuuya is rather relieved. Despite the fact that he's pretty sure by now that Dazai isn't hom*ophobic, he couldn't help but worry that the problem was going to be the active presence of a lesbian couple.

"Well, Yosano's not graduated yet, so she's not actually officially a doctor until next year," he says, as way of reassurance. He cracks a grin as he thinks of the perfect joke. "I promise that she won't be performing any non consensual lobotomies on you anytime soon - not that one would actually affect you anyway."

When Dazai doesn't reply, only chews on the cracked plastic of his strings, Chuuya can't help the small amount of disappointment that fills him at having wasted such a funny comment on an unappreciative audience. Albatross would have laughed.

“Come on,” he says, smacking Dazai's arm. “I promise she's nice. You'll have to meet her eventually, she's over here all the time.”

Finally, Dazai lets out a dramatic sigh. He still looks tense, but his words are casual, almost disinterested. “Alright, whatever,” he says with a shrug. “She doesn't own any dogs that I should know about, does she?”

“Nope,” Chuuya says, leaping to his feet with delight. He yanks at Dazai's hood in a gesture for him to stand, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he waits for him to slowly shuffle towards the bedroom door. “You'll be fine, Dazai, I promise, now hurry up. God, you take forever to do anything, don't you? Come on.”

“We're in no hurry,” Dazai grumbles, but follows Chuuya down the stairs anyway.

They hear Yosano before they see her, standing in the kitchen and chattering loudly. By the sounds of it, she's petting Arahabaki, cooing praises at the pup. Dazai seems wary about this, descending onto the landing with wide eyes, but Chuuya doesn't allow him to falter too much. Together, they head into the kitchen, a huge smile pasted on Chuuya's face.

Yosano is crouched on the floor with Baki beside her, but stands when she sees the two of them, grinning. Thick black hair brushes against her shoulders in a neat bob, a cute butterfly hairclip adorning the top of her head, and hazel eyes, thin with joy, peer out from under painted eyelashes. She's wearing a pink spaghetti strap top over denim shorts, showing off her legs full of tattoos, and a billion bangles jingle on her wrists. Chuuya's joked before that they act as a bell to let them know when she's coming.

“Hey, chibi,” she greets him, showing off crooked teeth with her smile. “It's good to see you haven't got into any fights recently. How's school been working out for you?”

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “You last saw me, like, a week ago, stop acting like it's been a million years. And school is sh*t as always. I'd quit if she'd let me.”

He nods in Ozaki's direction, making a face. She does nothing but stick out her tongue childishly, clearly holding back her long rants about why school is good for you - she knows they won't change Chuuya's opinion. And she's definitely tried.

Yosano laughs. “Oh, behave. School is a necessary evil.” Her eyes then slide over to Dazai, something flickering in her eyes. “And this is the boyf- this is the new friend I've been hearing about, yeah? Sorry, it appears I've forgotten your name, how rude of me. I'm Yosano, but you can call me Akiko if you like.”

Dazai had stiffened at the words hearing so much about, but Chuuya had been more preoccupied with Yosano's near usage of a different word to friend - what had she been about to say, there?

Luckily, it seems Dazai is able to gather himself in time to speak. “Dazai Osamu,” he says, smiling politely and holding out his hand just as he'd done when he'd met Ozaki. Yosano shakes it with a bewildered smile, and Dazai relaxes minutely. “It's pleasant to meet you. I've heard lots about you, as well.”

Yosano snickers. “Good things, I hope.”

In the background, Ozaki is unlocking the flap on the door to allow Arahabaki out, which seems to release the rest of the stress from Dazai's shoulders, a soft sigh of relief escaping him that no one else hears. Once she's finished, Ozaki claps her hands together with a smile. “Right!” she says, in a manner befitting of a teacher organizing a rowdy class. “Shall we do dinner now, or later? I was thinking five, but it's up to you all - Dazai, will you be staying?”

“Oh, that'd be great,” Yosano professes. “I'd love to get to know you better, Dazai, I always try to get well acquainted with Chuuya's friends so I don't mix them all up and look like a fool. He's too popular for me.” She brushes her hair out of her face, jingling as she does so. “I'd be happy to order for you. Money no object.”

As always when food is mentioned, Dazai clams up, blinking and opening his mouth like a fish. “I -”

“He'd love to stay,” Chuuya interrupts. He nudges Dazai's shoulder with his, not looking in his direction. “I wanted to congratulate you for passing your exams, by the way. I know you were super freaked out before you went in.”

“Really, you could tell?” Yosano laughs, then looks at Dazai again. “I don't know if either of these guys have mentioned, but I'm a med student, and I just did final exams. I was so stressed I could have died. Never study medicine, Dazai, really. Unless it's a passion of yours, in which case, go for it, but heed my warning - the coursework will try to break you. Don't give it the satisfaction.”

Dazai laughs, a forced smile on his lips. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“I'm going to go set up the movie,” Ozaki announces to no one in particular. She gives Yosano a peck on the cheek as she passes, towards the living room. “Find somewhere that we can all agree on to order from, alright? I personally am not picky. Dazai, feel free to make yourself comfortable wherever.”

She leaves them in the kitchen doorway, humming under her breath. That's not something she would normally do. Yosano's presence always makes her softer.

Chuuya's turns back and is about to speak up to suggest a takeout place he likes when Yosano interrupts. “You know, you actually look quite familiar. We haven't met, have we?”

Dazai jolts like an electric shock has just gone through him, but manages to straighten his expression in a millisecond, smiling sweetly. “No, ma'am. I just moved here recently, so I wouldn't have had the chance to make your acquaintance. But I've been told before that I look quite similar to some actor on TV, so you might be thinking of that.”

Yosano stands straight from where she'd been leaning against the washing machine, a thoughtful expression on her face. “That makes sense. My next question was actually going to be if I'd seen you on TV, so thank you for keeping me from embarrassing myself.” Her eyes crinkle further with mirth, dimples appearing in her cheeks. “So - dinner? What are we thinking? I'm a huge sushi fan, just throwing that out there. And I know Ozaki is too, she just pretends she doesn't have preferences because she thinks people will use them against her.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Ozaki calls from the living room, and Yosano laughs and flashes a cheesy grin in Chuuya's direction.

Chuuya, meanwhile, still can't help but wonder why Ozaki had been talking about Dazai to Yosano - she doesn't suspect something weird is up, surely? But he decides to go with the flow for now and worry about that later. “Sushi sounds good,” he tells the woman. “Are you up for that, Dazai? You can say no.”

Dazai nods quickly. “I like sushi.”

Yosano heads into the living room, giving Chuuya a moment alone with Dazai. He takes the time to ask if he's alright. “I know this might be stressful.”

The boy wrinkles his nose. “I'm not a little kid. You don't need to hover. By the way, did I hear correctly that Yosano calls you chibi?”

Chuuya groans and punches Dazai's arm. He knew that was coming. “Oh, shut your damn mouth and let's go sit, you freak ass mackerel.”

The movie they end up watching is the new Godzilla, a series Chuuya is particularly invested in - Yosano had apparently found a website to pirate it from, insisting that the cinema is a scam. Dazai seems delighted by this topic of conversation and quickly comes out of his shell, drawn in with the intention of spending a good ten minutes explaining exactly why he agrees and why pirating films can actually be more ethical. Chuuya and Ozaki exchange amused glances from across the sofa. It seems they'd both suspected that the two of them would get along.

They do end up ordering sushi, as they'd agreed on. Chuuya's basic, enjoying salmon nigiri with egg, which he gleefully drowns in so much soy sauce that Ozaki groans in disgust at his plate. Dazai, however, is apparently a fan of crab. Chuuya has never had crab in sushi before, so he steals a piece of the boy's temaki off his plate, squealing embarrassingly loudly when Dazai calmly rips open his wasabi packet and attempts to smear it around Chuuya's mouth in retaliation.

“So immature,” he shoots at him as he cleans up his face. “You could have just stolen some of my sushi. Now you've just made a mess.”

Dazai sticks his nose in the air. “I don't want Chuuya's sushi. Besides, the wasabi thing was funnier.”

“It actually was,” Yosano snickers. Her and Dazai are sat beside each other, with Ozaki pinching the bridge of her nose exasperatedly on her right. She's not really annoyed, Chuuya knows. She's dealt with enough of Chuuya and friend's antics over the years to be used to this. “And it was definitely deserved. I would kill anyone who stole my sushi. Go, Dazai.”

She holds up a hand for a high five and Dazai obliges, face pink and pleased before he turns to stick his tongue out at Chuuya.

He just misses Ozaki snaking a hand over to Yosano's plate and snatching one of her handrolls before taking a large bite out of the top.

Yosano gasps so loudly that anyone would think someone had been murdered, clapping her hand to her chest. “You evil rat!”

Ozaki just grins, soy sauce caught at the edge of her lip. More undignified than she'd usually let anyone see her. Chuuya wishes he had his phone - he has a folder full of silly pictures and videos of Ozaki, drunkenly performing the Just Dance choreography to Rasputin and laughing so hard soda flies out of her nose. Little reminders that his sister really isn't as serious of a person as she portrays herself to be. At all.

Instead of killing her like she promised, Yosano puts her plate aside on her tray and pounces on Ozaki, tickling her sides and kissing her face.

“No-o!” Ozaki wails, laughing so hard her breath comes out in wheezes. “Stop, you monster! You're - making me look like a fool! Sto-op!”

Chuuya cackles as he moves his sister's tray away so she doesn't punch it over with her flailing arms. “Nobody needs to make you look like a fool, Zaki,” he says fondly. “You do that to yourself.”

He then turns to Dazai, who's also silently giggling, amused by the spectacle. When Chuuya meets his eyes, they're glittering warmly, mirth clear in them. It's a good look on him, he thinks privately, better than the dull misery he'd worn during their first meeting. Joy suits Dazai well, fills him with light.

“You should be around when we play Just Dance sometime,” Chuuya tells him, grinning wickedly. “Ozaki is a master.”

“Oh, don't you try and embarrass me, boy,” comes Ozaki's voice. Yosano has let her go, and she's sitting up and brushing off her clothes as if the previous incident hadn't even happened. There is a stern glare on her face, although her cheeks are still flaming so red they almost match her hair. “I have stories I could tell. Far worse than whatever you may have on me!”

Dazai's mouth opens in a gleeful O, but Chuuya pushes him back into the couch before he can speak, still giggling. “Ok, fine, I relent,” he says, reaching out for another piece of sushi. “You win this round, but let it be known, I will win the war.”

In the end, none of them pay much attention to the movie, which is ok. It's not going anywhere. At the very least, Dazai and Ozaki are smiling, really smiling, and that's all that really matters to Chuuya.

Yosano bids her goodbyes an hour or so later, promising to be back soon and claiming that she'll write down a long list of conversation topics that she wants Dazai's opinion on, which clearly delights the boy as much as he tries to act blase about it. He pretends to leave not long after, but Chuuya knows he'll just take a walk around the block before climbing the pipe back up to his room. It's a very effective system.

However, Ozaki doesn't seem eager to let Chuuya go, making him wash the dishes while she lets Baki follow her out to the bins and sweeps the kitchen floor. She's not a very talkative woman, his sister, but Chuuya can tell when she just needs company instead of conversation. Ozaki is always quieter after Yosano leaves. And Chuuya always feels guilty.

He knows Ozaki would love to live with Yosano. He overheard them discussing it, once, when Ozaki was outside smoking and Chuuya had been planning to jump out and scare her when she came back inside. It hadn't been pleasant to hear. Of course, it isn't Chuuya's fault that Ozaki is stuck looking after him until he's old enough to live on his own. Still.

He tries not to think about it.

“Chuuya,” comes a sudden sharp tone, and Chuuya is snapped out of his thoughts in a moment. He whips around to see Ozaki in the doorway, brush and dustpan in hand. She's staring at him, a strange expression on her face. Chuuya swallows and flashes her a grin.

“That's me,” he says weakly. “Right here.”

She only continues to stare, making him feel even smaller than usual.

“You've been washing that same dish for five minutes,” she informs him. And f*ck, she's right. This plate has got to be squeaky clean by now, but Chuuya just hadn't been paying attention. He blinks, and Ozaki's eyes narrow. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, and then clears his throat and repeats himself in a slightly lighter tone. “Yeah. I'm good.”

He rinses the plate and neatly slips it into the dishrack. He can still feel his sister's eyes on him.

“Have you been taking your meds?” she asks, and he rolls his eyes while she can't see him. It's reasonable that she assumes this is an ADHD thing. Maybe it even is. Chuuya doesn't know which of his weird behaviours are caused by what.

“Yes, nee-chan,” he drones, speaking the honorific with a slightly sarcastic tone. “You would know if I hadn't. I would have punched someone by now.”

There's a smile in her voice when she next speaks. “Ah, I'm sure. But you've been doing well with that as of late. Your school hasn't called me in months.”

Chuuya's lips twitch. “Yeah, Albatross has been keeping me in line.”

There's silence for a moment, in which a few more dishes are cleaned and put away in the rack.

“Chuuya,” Ozaki says again. “Are you dating that boy?”

Chuuya drops the glass he's scrubbing back into the soapy water.

“What?” he says loudly, and turns around to meet Ozaki's eyes. She looks serious. “Dazai? Huh? Am I dating him?”

“Yes,” she says simply. She crosses her arm across her chest, expression neutral. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to, I'm just curious. The two of you seem sweet together.”

Well, f*ck. He should have seen this coming. God, Chuuya regrets the day he came out as bisexual.

“I'm… not dating Dazai,” he says, letting out a deep sigh. He goes back to washing the dishes, this time wary of Ozaki behind him. He hasn't heard her move yet. “I mean, we just met recently, Zaki. We're still getting to know each other as friends.”

He hears her hum. “But do you like him?”

She's teasing. Chuuya feels his face heat up. “Zaki!”

“Ok, I'm sorry,” she laughs lightly. Her clothes rustle as she comes up behind him, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair. “But he seems like a good kid. I like him better than I liked Yuan, that's for sure.”

He groans, shaking his head so Ozaki has to lean away. “Yuan was nice, Zaki, you just didn't like her because she was always chewing gum and referred to you by your first name without you telling her she could.”

“And she was constantly on her phone,” Ozaki reminds him. “She was very disrespectful.”

“We were all disrespectful,” Chuuya says. “That's how thirteen year olds are. Paul liked her.”

Ozaki lets out a hmph. “Paul's opinions were never to be taken seriously. He liked everyone you brought home.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Eugh, Zaki, don't phrase it like that. You make me sound like a whor*.”

His sister laughs heartily, tossing back her head. She's grabbed a towel and begun to silently dry the dishes beside him. “You know what I mean.”

A moment passes, comfortable and calm.

“Chuuya?”

“Yeah?”

“You would tell me if you started dating, right? Boy or girl?”

“Yes, Zaki.”

“Good. That's all that I care about.”

They're both smiling by the time the chores are done.

When Chuuya gets back up to his room, Dazai is already there. He's clearly just climbed back up, because he's panting and sitting on the floor under the window, eyes closed and head leaning against the sill. His choppy waves of hair fall around his face like a halo of sorts. Chuuya wonders who cut it. It looks like he did it himself, but he doesn't want to ask in case it's a touchy subject.

“So?” he says, instead of offering any sort of greeting. “What did you think?”

Dazai blinks his eyes open lazily, pretty brown irises shining upwards to scan Chuuya's expression. His face twitches, but ultimately remains mostly neutral. “Yosano is nice,” he replies, shrugging lightly. “Your sister has good taste. I liked that she let me talk about ethical content streaming without calling me a nerd, unlike some little chibi I could name.”

Chuuya groans. “You're not going to let the chibi thing go, are you?”

“Nope,” Dazai says delightedly. “I already knew you were an itty bitty chibi, but your sister's girlfriend using it for you as a nickname is very funny.”

“f*ck off,” Chuuya says, and kicks Dazai's leg for good measure. “You're a real ass. It's not my fault I'm short.”

“True,” the boy hums. “But if you didn't get so angry at all my jokes, I maybe wouldn't keep making them.”

Chuuya sighs and decides to set about gathering clothes from his cupboard to change into, ignoring Dazai from where he is still on the floor. He can stay there all night for all Chuuya cares.

But then he pipes up again. “Chuu-ya?”

Internally, he groans. Number six on the list of things Dazai does that piss him off: that tone of voice, that whiny way he says his name that never leads to anything good. “What?”

When he looks over at Dazai, he looks more serious, sat up and blinking slowly. Catlike.

“I'd like to meet your friends,” he says, tilting his head so it rests on his shoulder. Very catlike. “Having nobody but Chuuya for company for a week is driving me crazy. Crazier than I already am.”

Chuuya pauses his motions, hiding his expression behind his cupboard doors. That wasn't what he'd expected to hear Dazai say at all.

“Huh,” he says. “Ok. What do you think about tomorrow? Or Sunday, if anyone's busy?”

He can hear the smirk in Dazai's voice. “Either or. My schedule isn't actually full to bursting right now.”

Chuuya huffs, feeling his face warm. “Well, I don't know what you do during the day, do I?”

Surprisingly, Dazai goes silent after that. He looks lost in thought when Chuuya spares him another glance, and he decides against asking if he's alright, sparing himself the annoying, overcompensatingly cheerful chirps he'll receive in reply. He just goes to get changed, and then heads to bed, and Dazai does the same without fuss.

Before he goes to sleep, however, he sends one text to the group chat, the larger one that has all his friends that he sits with at school and not just the Flags;

Me (23:09): Hey who wants to meet up with Dazai tomorrow lol

Then he turns his phone off and passes out.

As it turns out, almost everyone is free to meet Dazai, even Higuchi, who'd originally been complaining about a dentist appointment but now says there are more important matters. All Chuuya can do is roll his eyes at this. Really, his friends are way too invested in this dumb little situation that he's gotten himself involved in. He tells Higuchi exactly this, and she sends him a three minute long voice note (that she's clearly recorded while doing her makeup, judging by the twenty second silence that comes when she applies her lipstick and the smacking noises that come after), telling him exactly why his thing with Dazai is the most interesting thing going on in her life right now. He tells her that's sad. She agrees, and sends a photo of a crying cat laying on the floor.

There is one problem that has come with waking up to all these messages clamouring to know where and what time they'll be meeting with Dazai. That problem is that Dazai, at some point before Chuuya woke up, slipped out of bed and vanished into the ether.

Of course, his first immediate thought is to text him, but then he realizes that like the idiot he is, he had never gotten Dazai's phone number. And he doesn't have any secondary ways of contacting him, either, because he's never needed them. Dazai is just always there when Chuuya needs him. So now what is he supposed to do? Text his friends and tell Higuchi she made her mom cancel her dentists appointment for nothing?

Apparently not. Before Chuuya can even work on a game plan, he's receiving a random DM notification on Instagram. Not on his main Instagram, the one where he posts all of his important pictures and videos that he wants to stay preserved, but his side Instagram. The rather embarrassing one that he has yet to delete or log out from. And of course, he can instantly tell who the message is from.

(dz1307397927937): Lollll of course you have an Instagram account for your dog

(dz1307397927937): Not surprised in the actual slightest

Chuuya wants to sink into the floor and die. He gets off his bed and begins to pace the floor, still in his pajamas, fingers angrily flying across the keyboard. Where the f*ck did you go, you asshole?

Had business to take care of, comes the reply. Is the thing happening today or tomorrow, then? I can do either just text me when and where to meet and I'll be there

What an irritating person. Chuuya calms himself down by imagining strangling him dead before he even thinks about texting back.

(arahabaki2018): I DON'T KNOW YET. because you DISAPPEARED so I didn't know if I should arrange a f*cking meetup

(arahabaki2018): Why are you texting me on a burner acc anyway. scared I'll see your ugly childhood photos or cringe fandom sh*t?

(dz1307397927937): No this has been my instagram for years it just looks like this

(dz1307397927937): Many a beautiful woman has blocked me because I look like a bot.. :(

Chuuya snorts and clicks Dazai's account. It's private, but it says he has no posts and, apparently, only one follower that Chuuya can't look at without requesting to follow him. His bio simply reads: big cheese. There is no name set.

(arahabaki2018): Ok whatever I'll give you my main and you can message me there instead of on the embarrassing and extremely cringe instagram account I made for my dog five years ago

(dz1307397927937): Yeah this is pretty embarrassing for you lol

(dz1307397927937): Surprised by the number of followers you have though.. and you haven't posted in three years? What about your 822 loyal fans who want to know how little Arahabaki is doing?

(arahabaki2018): Kill yourself man I was eleven

(dz1307397927937): This just in: internet celebrity Arahabaki the dog has just told a stranger on the internet to kill himself… screenshots leaked! cancel thread incoming!

Ok, Chuuya might have laughed at that. And maybe stopped stress-pacing and actually sat down again, a little more relaxed now that he knows Dazai is ok.

He sends Dazai a link to his main account without another word, and by the time he switches over there, Dazai has already followed him. This makes Chuuya's following-to-follower ratio uneven, which annoys him - and that is the only reason why he requests to follow Dazai back. The only one. He doesn't actually care about whatever he has on his account. He just doesn't like the asymmetry, is all.

Within minutes, he has another message.

(dz1307397927937): Wow Chuuya has so many posts

(dz1307397927937): What a popular boy you are

(nchuuya_): f*ck off man get a new damn username

He knows that he brought it upon himself, but he doesn't like that he's basically handed Dazai the key to everything he would ever need to know about Chuuya by giving him his Instagram. Not only does he now have access to all of his posts, but all his friends, too, found through tagged posts and the follower tab. Chuuya suddenly has the urge to scroll through his own account and try to imagine what it looks like to an outsider. Really, he wants to delete everything he's ever posted and disappear forever.

Luckily, Dazai says nothing about the contents of Chuuya's account. In fact, he goes silent for a few minutes, minutes that Chuuya spends biting his nails, knowing that Dazai is scrolling through all his pictures, probably screenshotting the embarrassing ones. But then he gets a notification. dz1307397927937 has accepted your request.

He hadn't expected that. He clicks on Dazai's account and looks at it anew. Nothing has changed, except now, he can have a look at Dazai's follower list and see who the other unlucky soul is who's found themself ensnared in the web of Dazai Osamu.

Their username is odasakuuuu07. Their profile picture is of a brown calico cat, and their bio reads: meimei stan account, with a string of emoticons following it. They have three posts. One is of a beach view, with an empty caption. Another is a slideshow of the cat from their profile picture, being pet and coddled in what looks like a pretty, white bedroom. The third is a dimly lit selfie. It's blurry, but there's enough for Chuuya to tell he's a ginger dude, tan, with a well set jawline and dark, narrowed eyes. The caption on this one reads: putting onan oscar worthy performance for my father so i can sneak out to see mei :3.

There are quite a few comments on this post. Chuuya clicks them, and then immediately wishes he hadn't, because he's instantly hit with a sea of: fly high, angel. You'll be remembered. Miss you already, big man.

Hands shaking a little, Chuuya scrolls back to the cat post. He hadn't looked before, but this one is captioned: hanging out with my favourite freak and loser <3. At first glance, it looks like he's talking about the cat, but another look through the photos presents Chuuya with an insight he hadn't had before. In the third picture, a mirror can be seen behind the cat, reflecting the taker of the photo, the dead boy, but also another person beside him. A kid in a dark red hoodie with the hoodie yanked over their ears, a huge grin on their face, eyes slit with mirth and more pure, genuine joy written in every inch of their blurry, reflected self than Chuuya could ever have imagined.

It's unmistakeably Dazai.

Chuuya closes out of Instagram and opens his messages with his friends instead.

Me (10:23): What do you guys think of Subway at one :P

“He'll be here, guys,” Chuuya says, for the five millionth time. “He promised. And it's not like he could just break that promise and then avoid me so he doesn't have to confront me, because we literally live together.”

“Huh,” Lippmann grunts. “I'm starting to think I got all dressed up for nothing.”

“You're always dressed up for nothing, Lippmann,” Piano Man reminds him, nudging his arm. “That's your thing.”

Albatross whines, slumping across the table. “I'm starting to think that Chuuya reallywas lying this whole time and he made this whole story up!”

Chuuya sighs.

They're at Subway, at one of the larger tables that is able to sufficiently hold them all. They go here often, hanging out after school or on weekends when they have money, so this is kind of their table, in their eyes. It's not special or anything - it's just big enough to just about hold them all. Just about. Sometimes, one or two people will have to sit at a booth behind or in front of them, shooting puppy dog eyes and trembling lips to the group to make them laugh about how dramatic their abandonment is.

The only people missing are Doc, who had a doctor's appointment and was very sad about not being able to go, and Akutagawa, who'd claimed he “couldn't actually be bothered, just give me the rundown on Monday and I'll catch up but say hi to my sister while you're there.” And also Dazai. Dazai is currently missing too.

“I swear, he's probably doing this on purpose to make me seem like I'm a liar,” Chuuya groans. They've been putting off ordering until Dazai got here, and his stomach is rumbling. He forgot to eat this morning, or more accurately, didn’t feel well enough to. He shouldn't have scoured Dazai's Instagram. Damn his curiosity. “But I swore to you guys, I don't lie like that anymore! He is real, he's just - a total ass. Argh, I'm going to kill him.”

He hates the unimpressed looks his friends are shooting at each other. He really hasn't been lying, hehasn't,but Dazai is making him out to be afool. This is terrible. Chuuya wants to sink into the floor.

At that very moment, however, everyone in the booth who's facing the door starts craning their necks, murmuring to themselves, so Chuuya whips around just in time to see the bastard casually stroll inside. Chuuya sags with relief at the sight of him. He's dressed in a pair of black jeans and a white button up, the sleeves of which drag past his wrists, his usual eyepatch covering his right eye. He flashes them a grin when he sees them, no nervousness visible on his face even though he surely must be feeling it. Everyone at the table is staring at him, seemingly unashamed of themselves.

“Hey,” he says nonchalantly. “I didn't realize there would actually be so many of you. Chuuya told me all your names and whatnot, but I thought he surely had to be making some of them up. Like, which one of you is Piano Man?”

Chuuya drops his head into his hands.

“That would be me,” says Piano Man, cracking a grin. He leans into his fist, eyes thin with amusem*nt. “It's a nickname, in case you didn't guess. “Piano Man” is not on my birth certificate.”

“It's because he likes playing with piano wires,” Lippmann jumps in, before holding out a hand for the younger boy to shake. “Hi, Lippmann here. That's my last name, but my first name is dumb as hell, so no one uses it. Here, scoot in and sit next to me, it's probably the only place you'll find any room. We could rearrange so that you could sit by Chuuya, but everyone in this Subway would start hating us if we even tried. We're so messy, I don't know if you can tell.”

“That's fine,” Dazai says, and slides in beside Lippmann gracefully, back straight and hands in his lap. He looks rather out of place amongst these people, a fish out of water. “I don't want to sit next to Chuuya anyway. Say, what is your first name? It surely can't be that bad.”

“Oh, it is,” Albatross pipes up. There are practically stars in his eyes, the way he's looking at Dazai. He mimics Lippmann's gesture and sticks his hand out. Dazai leans across the table and shakes it, and Albatross giggles. “It's so wonderful to finally meet you. I'm Albatross.”

Dazai blinks, lips dropping open in an O. “Ah. You're the one who yelled at me at the beach.”

Albatross's face deepens in colour, and the others at the table promptly begin to make fun of him with hums of oooh, Tross is in trouble! “I was hoping you wouldn't remember that,” Albatross admits, lowering his head. “Yes, that was me. Terribly sorry if I was being annoying.”

“You were,” Chuuya shoots over at him, and then reluctantly faces Dazai, who still looks rather stiff in his place, awkward smile frozen on his lips. “Ignore him. I'll tell you who everybody is rather than let them introduce themselves, we'll be here all day - shut up, guys, you know it's true! Then we need to actually order food. Just because Gin works here now doesn't mean we can just mess about, they'll boot us and we won't be allowed back ever again, seriously.”

So Chuuya introduces each friend to Dazai, who all wave or strike poses depending on how obnoxious they are. When he gets to Sigma and Higuchi, who are sitting next to each other in the corner, Dazai's smile widens and he offers them a mock little bow, which they both giggle at. Something hot sparks in Chuuya's chest at that, and he quickly moves on, eager to get this part over with.

Once he's done, Dazai nods and claps his hands together. “I'm charmed to meet you all,” he says sweetly. “As you might know, I'm Dazai Osamu. Happy to be here.”

At the sound of his name, Lippmann jolts in his seat, startling Dazai beside him. “Did you say Dazai Osamu?” he asks, incredulous. “Were you by chance named after the author?”

Dazai blinks, a strange expression crossing his face that's gone before Chuuya can suss it. “I wasn't, actually, it was simply a strange coincidence,” he says, tone unreadable. “I didn't think anyone else ever read his works. He's rather unknown, I've never met anyone else who's heard of him.”

“Lippmann's a Japanese and English Literature nerd,” Higuchi says with a laugh. She reaches over to poke said nerd in the arm, grinning. “He knows everything. And on top of that, he wants to be an actor and director. He'll probably ask you to be in his film sooner or later.”

“I think we can discuss Lippmann's film once we actually get our food,” Tachihara says. He gets to his feet, signaling for everybody else to do the same. “Chuuya's glaring at everybody and I'm scared of what he'll do if we don't do what he wants.”

“Oh, please don't take my children, Mister Nakahara, they're my dearest loves,” Sigma says in a mocking tone, but they do all start to get up and head to the line at the front of the store, drawing the attention of everybody else in the room. Chuuya flashes Tachihara a grateful smile. Sometimes being one of the more responsible members of their friend group feels like being a sheep herder, if the sheep were obnoxious and determined to do the opposite of everything he said.

Actually, he hates the sheep analysis. Just the word makes him feel a little sick to his stomach.

They get in line, but Lippmann continues chatting with Dazai, eyes alight. “So you're familiar with Dazai Osamu’s works?” he asks, hands squeezed into fists with excitement. “I loved his writing, it's such a shame there isn't more of it. My absolute favourites had to be The Setting Sun and No Longer Human. I get the feeling that, if he had ever made it big, those would have been his magna opera.”

“”Magna opera,”” Albatross mimics from behind them. “Chuuya, translate.”

“That's not French, dickass,” Chuuya says with a roll of his eyes. “It's Latin. So f*ck off.”

Dazai pokes his head around to look at them. “Chuuya is French?”

“No,” Chuuya says, at the same time at least four others say “yes” in a perfect chorus. He turns to glare at them furiously, but it's too late. He changes the subject. “Magna opera is the plural of magnum opus, anyway. Even I knew that.”

“It is!” Lippmann says gleefully. “Clever Chuuya. Anyway, I wish Dazai Osamu had written more books. I read them all when I was… thirteen, perhaps? I haven't stopped thinking about them since. They're my Roman Empire, if you will.”

“The Roman Empire is also your Roman Empire,” Iceman chimes in, speaking up for the first time this conversation. “That's why you called us the Flags. Now pay attention, you have to order soon.”

“So I do,” Lippmann says cheerfully. “Hey, Gin! Gin! Hi, it's us, did you see us?”

Behind the counter is none other than Gin Akutagawa. She rolls her eyes exasperatedly when she sees them, but it's obvious she's happy to see them, even with her face hidden behind a black face mask. Her spiky hair is flattened under a green cap and hair net, gothy clothes exchanged for a neat uniform, but she manages to look just as badass as ever despite it.

“I did see you,” she says, glancing around them. Her eyes catch onto Sigma and Dazai, thick eyebrows raising. “And I see you've multiplied. I didn't think you guys could fit more people into that stupid booth. Hi guys, I'm Gin. I'm Ryuunosuke’s big sister.”

“Ah, I see,” Dazai says, nodding seriously. “Ryuunosuke. Of course. Who else?”

Chuuya punches his back. “He's new here,” he explains to Gin. “This is Dazai, and she's Sigma. It's good to see you, it's been a while. How's Subway treating you? You must be so glad to be working at our go-to hang, you'll see us all the time.”

“The only reason I applied, of course,” Gin says dryly. She begins working on Lippmann's order, a smile crinkling the skin around her eyes. “Well, I'll admit it's a bonus. I know most of your orders by heart just because I've been here with you guys so much. But just in case, I'll need you to tell me anyway. Don't wanna mess up and get kicked out of another job in my first two weeks, the job centre was so glad to see the back of me when I got hired here and I'd hate to disappoint them.”

They all order and begin to trail back to the booth, piles of food and drink in front of them. Dazai pays for his own food, but Chuuya silently vows to pay him back later. He surely doesn't have the funds to be splurging on takeaway, judging by the fact that all he buys are a tub of nachos and a cookie. Eventually, they all find themselves back where they were originally, leaving Gin finally free. She catches Chuuya's eye and mimes wiping her forehead in relief, pretending to faint. He laughs to himself, feeling light. He likes Gin. School isn't the same without her.

“So, Dazai,” Albatross starts, and Chuuya immediately regrets inviting him, because Albatross has no concept of boundaries or knowing when to shut the f*ck up. “What kind of stuff do you get up to, huh? Chuuya says you're into Pokemon Go. Oh! Oh, we should be friends, I totally forgot I wanted to ask you if you would. I have loads of cool Pokemon that we could totally trade. I have a four star Xerneas that I don't need if you want it.”

Dazai's face lights up. “What - Chuuya didn't say his friends played Pokemon Go!”

Chuuya sighs. “They don't. It's just Albatross.”

“And Doc,” Iceman says, stirring his co*ke with his straw. “Although he doesn't take it very seriously. He just collects different event Pikachus whenever Tross tells him there's a new one.”

While Albatross opens his phone to get his trainer code, Dazai continues talking. “Well, I'm into more than just Pokemon Go. I'm a huge cat fan, so if any of you have cats, I'd love to see pictures. I also enjoy reading old literature, so I think we'll get along well, Lippmann, I really do.”

Those seem to be Dazai's more tame interests. Chuuya knows he's obsessed with a lot weirder things - the history of samurai, ethical consumption of media, strange suicide methods, weird foreign bugs. He's heard enough about it all to last him a lifetime. But he supposes Dazai's trying not to appear too abnormal straight away.

The group easily get into conversation while they eat, much to Chuuya's relief. He'd been so worried that Dazai wouldn't end up getting along with his friends, and that this really would be a big disaster, but it seems that his worries were unfounded as the next half hour passes. Lippmann is his current favourite person, absolutely determined to include Dazai in every new conversation they have and seemingly fascinated by the boy's whole demeanour. Gin continuously keeps an eye on them over the counter, smiling whenever Chuuya catches her looking and sticking her tongue out like a child.

It really makes him think about how much he missed her. Gin was one of their best friends at school due to how much of a hardass she was, never following the more ridiculous rules and always dressing however she wanted, with skirts hiked halfway up her waist and ties adorned with pins and slides. She was the first person in their group to come out as queer, specifically bisexual. Chuuya would never have had the courage to do the same without her.

And now she's left school and is working at their favourite Subway location - how small the world is.

He's still midway through his meatball marinara sandwich when the group decide to finish up and go for a walk around. Apparently Dazai and Albatross (who he definitely already regrets introducing to one another) want to do Party Play (whatever that is) and complete challenges together (whatever they are). It seems nobody else minds, because they get all their rubbish together and clean the table as best they can to leave less work for poor Gin before waving goodbye to the woman and leaving. She blows dramatic kisses at them over the counter, waving a napkin and fake sobbing like she's watching them go off to war. The door closes behind them just in time for Chuuya to see her manager come out behind her and say something that definitely looks like a scolding. He chuckles as they leave.

"I need a smoke," he hears Piano Man say, somewhere behind him. "Iceman, got a light?"

"You guys smoke?" comes Dazai's reply. Chuuya can practically hear the way his nose wrinkles with distaste. "Eugh. I'm just gonna go walk over here, then."

"Not a fan of the smell?" Piano Man questions. The lighter that Iceman must have passed him clicks. "Sorry, I'll keep away. I always try to be considerate of other people when I'm smoking anyway, I know a lot of people hate it."

"It's just so gross," Dazai says. "I don't understand the point of it, and the smell makes me nauseous. Do people seriously enjoy it?"

"Eh," Piano Man hums. "Not particularly. Frankly, I couldn't explain to you why I do it, or why anyone else does. Maybe I'll make it my resolution for next year to quit."

"That's the spirit, Piano Man," Albatross says cheerfully. "Put it off until next year so you forget about it and have an excuse to wait even longer. I believe in you!"

Chuuya can hear the playful collision of Piano Man's fist into Albatross's arm, and the resulting dramatic wail from the younger boy.

There's not really anywhere specific to go around here, so the group of them settle for aimless wandering, chatting amongst themselves. Chuuya's not all that into it. He's weirdly tired and not too up for conversation, so he settles for listening to Dazai and Albatross compare Pokemon stats while Lippmann, Piano Man and Tachihara theorize about some anime series and Sigma and Higuchi groan about different teachers at school. Only Iceman is also silent, but he usually is. He mostly talks when Doc is around, and more often than not these days, he isn't. Chuuya can't help but feel bad for the guy.

He drags out finishing his sandwich for as long as possible, knowing he'll be made to join some conversation or another once he's done, but finally bins his trash once he sees they're heading in the direction of the beach, yet again.

He hasn't been back here since he met Dazai. Luckily, Lippmann is a distraction, whipping out his camera and beginning to babble about needing new shots. “Act dramatic, everyone,” he instructs with a cheesy grin. “Like you're in a movie montage.”

“Ah, Lippmann, I can't be bothered today,” Chuuya whines. He really can't. He didn't shower this morning and he looks like sh*t. “Just crop me out of this one, I'll try and stay out of the way.”

Dazai speaks up then. “Is this your film that was mentioned earlier?”

“It is,” Lippmann grins. He steps back, adjusting his shot and nearly causing a car to swerve out of the way when he falls briefly into the road. He ignores their angry honking, too engrossed in his work. “It's for a competition. I'm going to direct my own film someday. This is just how I'll get started. If I win, I get prize money and exposure. Finally, real filmmakers will take notice of my work and realize my potential and then I'll get rich and move out of Yokohama and none of you bitches will ever see me again.”

“Naur, Lippmann,” Albatross says in a silly accented voice. “We'd miss you if you left.”

Chuuya immediately notices Dazai's discomfort, and is about to sidle over and ask him about it when he talks again. “Ah, so these clips are going to be shown to lots of people?”

“Yep,” Lippmann says proudly. “There'll be a huge festival where they'll show off all the winning films, one of which will definitely be mine. I'll have to rent a suit or something. And you guys will all be in the audience, cheering me on.” He giggles maniacally at the thought. “Black ties and hors d’oeuvres and little flutes of champagne…”

“Well, I hate to be a party pooper,” Dazai says with a small laugh. “But I'd prefer not to be filmed for this. I mean, I believe you all know my situation and can understand why I might feel that way.”

Lippmann drops his camera to his chest and claps his hands over his mouth. “Oh my god, I didn't even think. I'm so sorry. I'll get rid of any footage I have with you in it, I promise. I don't think I even took that much.”

“That's ok,” Dazai says with a dazzling smile. “If you want, you can just blur me out, I don't mind. As long as my face can't be seen, it's ok.”

“Of course,” Lippmann says, nodding rapidly. He's focused on his camera now, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Both himself and Dazai have that habit, Chuuya's noticed. “I'll work on that later.”

Dazai stares at Lippmann for a second longer, a strange expression on his face, before he looks away again.

They're getting closer to the beach now, and Dazai has given up on playing with Albatross in favour of skipping ahead with Higuchi and Sigma on both sides, deep in conversation about something or other that the two girls seem very interested in. Again, that ugly, hot emotion rears its head in Chuuya's chest, and he calls for it to quiet down, annoyed. He has no reason to be upset about Dazai potentially flirting with his friends. He barely knows the guy. It's not like they're close enough for him to be feeling this kind of thing.

The others fall into step around him, and Chuuya can see they're all watching Dazai and the girls with interest. He wonders what they're thinking. That fear that they can read his mind crosses his thoughts again. God, wouldn't his current train of thought be a pain to explain.

“He's weird,” Albatross suddenly says.

Chuuya snaps his head around to look at him as all his friends nod solemnly.

“What?” he says, a little too loudly. “No, he's - Well, he is, but it's not necessarily a bad thing.”

“Huh!” Albatross hums. “You're the one who originally said it.”

That's true, but - Chuuya doesn't like hearing them say it. It doesn't feel as good as he thought it would, not after seeing Dazai's sad, empty Instagram account, his singular follower who happens to be a dead boy. He doesn't want his friends to actually think badly of him.

“Of course it's not a bad thing,” Tachihara says. He has his hands shoved in his pockets, a slightly uncomfortable look on his face. “But he is strange, you have to admit that. Like, what is the reasoning behind the eyepatch and all the bandages?”

Chuuya has a very good idea behind the reason for the latter, but isn't going to tell them that. Instead, he crosses his arms and glares daggers into his friend until he looks away, lips pressed into a fine line. “You're being a dick for no reason,” he says. “You guys don't ask Doc for his medical history. Not to mention the fact that you all always tear apart anyone who questions it when he has to come in with an IV or something.”

They all look a little sheepish at that, proving that they'd all been wondering. This annoys Chuuya a little. “Dazai's history isn't any of your business,” he says firmly. “There's no conspiracy theory behind this.”

“Well,” Albatross starts, shrinking away under Chuuya's sharp look. “There could be. Don't you think it's weird how he reacted when Lippmann mentioned that he had the same name as that author? What if Dazai Osamu is a fake name that he chose so no information about him would come up if you Googled him?”

“f*ck off, Tross, seriously,” Chuuya says darkly. “Dazai's a real person, not a character you can f*cking theorize about.”

Albatross recoils, unused to Chuuya speaking to him quite so harshly. “I'm just saying,” he mutters sullenly. “You don't even know the guy, why are you defending him? He could be lying about everything you know about him.”

Iceman grunts, eyebrows furrowed. “He does look weirdly familiar for some reason.”

“I thought so too,” Lippmann admits. “Although I suppose he might just have that kind of face that looks like you've seen it before.”

Chuuya practically snarls. “Oh, you guys are just making sh*t up now for the sake of it. Lay off him, why f*cking don't you? He hasn't actually done anything to anyone, as much as I complain about him.”

Out the corner of his eye, he sees Lippmann and Tachihara exchange glances. “Well,” Lippmann says. “If you say so. We just don't want you to get hurt or anything.”

“I do jujutsu,” Chuuya reminds them with a huff. “Dazai couldn't hurt me if he tried.”

There's a silent pause.

“Just saying,” Albatross says, a little too loudly. “The guy's a weirdo.”

At that exact moment, Dazai turns around and glances back at them. They all freeze up, but then he's looking away again, speaking something to Sigma, who laughs and brings a hand to her face, covering her smile. Higuchi lets out a snort loud enough for them to hear it, dimples appearing deep in her cheeks.

Chuuya whips around to look at Albatross, immediately furious for reasons he can't even explain. “f*ck's sake,” he hisses, not just to him, but to all of them listening. “I thought you wanted to meet Dazai so badly because you thought you'd like him, not because you wanted to judge him and, subsequently, me for letting him stay with me. None of you know anything, ok? You don't know the whole situation, so don't pretend you do.”

“Chuuya,” Piano Man says. He holds out a hand to grace against his shoulder, an apologetic look on his face. “No one means any harm, and no one is saying your judgement is bad. We trust you. But we also want to look out for you.”

He relaxes, very minutely, but apparently enough for everything else to do the same. “Fine,” Chuuya mutters. He feels a little embarrassed about his outburst, now. “Ok. Whatever. I'm… sorry for getting angry. But I just wanna make it clear that there's more to Dazai's situation that you don't know about. I don't wanna just air his business to everybody. But he is just a normal, moderately annoying guy, alright? He hasn't tried to kill me yet.”

Finally, Lippmann cracks a smile, and a few of the others smile. “We know,” he says. “We trust you. Just stay safe, ok?”

They've arrived at the beach, now, and Dazai, Higuchi and Sigma have plopped down into the sand, still whispering to each other. Iceman instantly takes to the shore, searching for shells or flat rocks or sea glass, nobody knows. The others sit around, beginning to talk casually again. Only Albatross is still quiet, bottom lip jutted out, legs pulled up to his chest. When he notices Chuuya looking at him, he drops his face into his knees, flushed. He can't help but feel a little bad, and scoots closer, bumping up beside the boy.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I'm sorry for snapping at you. I shouldn't have been so mean.”

“It's whatever,” Albatross whispers back, voice miserable. “I don't care.”

“You do care,” Chuuya says. He frowns, reaching out to run his fingers through his friend's hair. They've always been this gentle with each other, Chuuya and Albatross. He really shouldn't have been so mean. He's just been in such a weird mood lately. That's not Albatross's fault. “I'm sorry, ok? I really am. I know you're sensitive.”

“f*ck off,” Albatross says, but he turns his head so his eye is peeking out at Chuuya. He's definitely smiling, now. “You can be a real dick when you're moody.”

“I know,” Chuuya says apologetically. “I'm the worst. Wanna skip stones?”

So the two of them follow Iceman to the shore and begin to search for stones, both determined to outdo the other as they smooth muddy sand off of their finds, holding them up to the sun as they examine them.

“Skipping stones?” comes a voice. Dazai's, as he walks down to meet them, followed by the girls. “I'll have a go. Someone find me a good one and I'll smoke the lot of you.”

“Here,” says Iceman, surprisingly speaking up and tossing a stone over Chuuya and Albatross's heads. Dazai catches it and admires it with an ooh and an ahh.

“That is a good one,” Sigma says, peeking over Dazai's shoulder. “Bet you can't get… seven.”

“Surely not,” Lippmann shouts from behind them. They're all watching when Chuuya looks, interest written across their faces. “I've never seen anyone get as high as seven before.”

Dazai grins like it's a challenge and prepares his stance, gripping the stone between his fingers and leaning backwards with determination in his visible eye. Squinting, he sticks his tongue between his teeth and tosses the thing with expert skill, leaving them to watch it skip - once, twice, three times, four, five, six, seven, eight, and nine.

Everybody cheers, even Chuuya, pumping his fist in the air as Dazai takes several bows, grinning so wide it might just split his face.

“What the hell,” Piano Man says. “That was so f*cking cool.”

“I know,” Dazai says, and he looks past Sigma, past Higuchi, past Iceman and Albatross, and looks right at Chuuya. Chocolate eyes meet mismatched blue and hazel, shutting everything else around them out. “So I've been told.”

Dazai and Chuuya leave a little while later, not long after Albatross gets a call from his mom asking him to watch his sisters and Iceman remembers he has to be at his dad's by five for dinner. They've all wound down by them, and nobody makes a fuss when they say goodbye. So they begin to walk back, side by side along the boardwalk. Seagulls fly by, searching for discarded chips and fries, pecking between the boards.

They're quiet for a bit, both engrossed in listening to the sounds of the sea. The birds, the jingle of the nearby ice cream van, the kids with their families squealing and running up and down in their floppy sandals. It's busy here on a summer Saturday. That's to be expected.

“So-o,” Chuuya says after a while. They're getting close to the fence, the gates of which are open. He glances towards the water where he'd first seen Dazai halfway under and watches the kids play with their half deflated beach balls. “What did you think? Did you like them?”

Dazai doesn't say a word. He's staring straight ahead of him, fixated on the path, and there is a small, plastic smile frozen on his face.

“Dazai?” Chuuya says, unsure of himself.

It's a moment before he speaks. “They don't like me.”

Chuuya jolts. “What - Huh? Dazai, yes they did. Lippmann literally wouldn't shut up when he realized you knew some of his favourite scriptwriters. And Albatross is apparently your new best friend because you can name more than three Pokemon that aren't starters or Pikachu.”

The boy hasn't gotten rid of that odd smile. “They think there's something wrong with me.”

f*ck. Chuuya stops walking and waits for Dazai to face him, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Is this because you heard Albatross say you were weird?” he says, desperate to try and fix this. “Because he didn't mean that in a nasty way, genuinely, Albatross just doesn't think before he speaks -”

“I didn't hear Albatross say anything,” Dazai interrupts.

Double f*ck. Chuuya's such an idiot.

He falters, feeling small and stupid. “Oh. I - Dazai -”

“Chuuya,” Dazai says. Sounding like he's talking to a child instead of someone older than him. “I don't mind. It's really my own fault. I don't know how to talk to people. I understand that I don't exactly speak or look at all normal.”

“They did like you,” Chuuya insists, wringing his hands together. He can taste blood in his mouth from where he bit his lip too hard. “And you don't have anything wrong with you. You're just -”

He trails off when he realizes Dazai's not going to finish the sentence for him.

The boy's smile widens a little, painted and fake. “I do have something wrong with me,” he says, a tinge of regret in his voice. “My dad always tells me that that's why I can't make friends. I'm no good at it. It isn't their fault, it's my own.”

The worst part about this is the way that Dazai doesn't even sound self deprecating or really sad. It's like he's simply stating facts. Chuuya hates it. Chuuya hates the way he currently looks closer to the miserable kid he'd seen in the water on this very beach than he has since he started staying with him a week ago.

“Your dad sounds like an idiot,” Chuuya says, fiercely, angrily. “You're a good guy, Dazai, and my friends do like you. Sigma and Higuchi didn't leave you alone for, like, twenty solid minutes. They'll all be wanting to see you again within at least a couple days.”

Dazai casts his gaze down to the boardwalk, humming softly. He doesn't seem to have a reply, and neither does Chuuya, unsure of where to go with this.

“Hmm,” Dazai says after a moment. “My dad always used to say I got none of his or my mothers genes. He said that I'm a changeling child who stole away his real baby in the night and that's why I don't act like a human being. Don't you think that's in any way true?”

He sounds like he's begging for an answer, finally looking up to look into Chuuya's face. As if he's searching for the truth in his eyes.

God, Chuuya would love to kick the sh*t out of Dazai's dad right now. So badly. Even Ozaki and Albatross wouldn't be enough to hold him back.

“Dazai,” Chuuya says, slowly. “You are a human being. There is no doubting that. And your dad is clearly a piece of sh*t. You told me yourself that you're autistic. That is literally a neurodevelopmental condition that makes it difficult to interact socially or understand people around you. From the sound of it, your dad is just an asshole who was unwilling to accommodate you when you needed it. Doesn't make you any less of a person. You understand that?”

Dazai blinks, his lips parting slightly. It takes a moment, but he does nod, seemingly uncertain of his own actions.

“Good,” Chuuya says. “So no more of that “not human” sh*t. Because you are. There's no doubt about that.”

“You have to think I'm weird too,” Dazai says quietly. He's tugging on the ends of his shirt cuffs, fingers moving rapidly around the little button holding them together. It's enough for Chuuya to tell he's upset. “I know you must have lots of questions about where I came from and why I'm here. I know you must have seen Odasaku’s Instagram. Don't you think it's weird? Chuuya?”

It takes Chuuya a moment to register who Odasaku is, and when he does, his heart drops.

“What's… what's weird about it?” he says. “It's not weird. It's sad. I'm sorry about what happened to him, by the way. I know it has to be super difficult for you right now.”

A seagull flies over their heads, one followed by a group of others, squawking and screaming through the blue summer sky. Some of the little kids in the water yowl, tripping over themselves and splashing each other with seawater.

“It is,” Dazai says. His voice wavers a little. “I don't mean to be weird about everything.”

“You're not,” Chuuya says. Without thinking, he takes a step forward and takes one of Dazai's hands in his, stopping him from accidentally tearing the button off his shirt like it looked like he was going to. “You're not weird, Dazai. And even if you were, there's nothing wrong with that. Normality is a f*cking social construct designed to make us all feel like we have to move out at eighteen and be married to the opposite sex and having kids by twenty five. There is nobody on Earth living a normal life, and if they were, I'd frankly feel sorry for them. It would have to be incredibly boring to live like that.”

It takes a second while Chuuya's catching his breath, but Dazai's smile softens, just a little, something genuine seeping into his expression. It instantly makes Chuuya's chest tighten, but in a different way than it had when he'd seen Dazai with Sigma and Higuchi earlier. It's a nicer way. It kind of makes him want to freeze and stay in this moment forever, this moment where Dazai is smiling and looking like he means it, sadness and grief melted away.

“I suppose Chuuya's right,” he says with a small shrug. “How utterly miserable we would all be if we were all going to college and living on a semi decent wage that left us with enough to buy a nice house and live there with a loved one who we knew we would marry -”

“Shut it,” Chuuya says, cracking a grin. “You know what the hell I was talking about. Like, imagine living the life of someone who didn't know anything about Pokemon and thought it was for little kids. Wouldn't that be grim? Imagine going through life only thinking about things that are real. It'd be terrible. Sometimes we all need to sit and play video games instead of wondering when we'll next need to pay off our electric bill.”

Dazai finally laughs, warming Chuuya up from the inside. “Ok, I understand you now. That would literally be terrible. Being a whole other person would mean I'd have to re-memorize which Pokemon types are effective against which and all the different stats and attacks of each one, and I just couldn't have that. I'd die.”

“Yeah, you get me! I couldn't imagine it. That's why I'd never choose to be anybody else, even if I could. I wouldn't be happy unless I was me.”

“That's very profound, chibi! Looks like you have some big thoughts in that little head!”

“Hah - little head? Little head?! I'll show you -!”

“Ack! Help, a chibi’s trying to kill me! Ahahaha, help! Hey, stop, I'm not even ticklish, you're just hurting me! Bad dog! Bad chibi dog!”

It takes them twice as long to walk home than it should. But in the end, neither of them mind.

Chapter 4: fall through space out of mind with me

Chapter Text

“So,” Albatross begins, a sly smile curling at his lips as he meets Chuuya's eyes. His heart sinks. “It's been a week now. How's our Chuuya coping with his new roommate?”

Chuuya drops his head into his hands. “Seriously, can't we ask somebody else how their life is going? Why does it have to be me?”

He stares desperately around the table, at the eager faces of his friends. “Come on, do not one of you have any interesting stories about how your weekend was or something?”

“Nope,” Piano Man says after a pause. “Our lives are terribly boring.”

They're at school, of course, sitting at the same lunch table as always. Ozaki had packed him a bento box full of onigiri, one of Chuuya's favourites, and he's been avoiding conversation for the whole of lunch by stuffing the rice balls into his mouth and chewing them as slowly as possible so no one would ask him any questions. But Albatross knows him well, unfortunately, and has patiently waited until he was finished before sneaking up and striking like a silent assassin who's hungry for gossip.

Luckily, it seems Lippmann decides to take pity on him, because he speaks up and draws the attention off of Chuuya. “I finally decided on a theme for my film.”

Piano Man's eyes light up, his mouth dropping open dramatically at the admission. “Oh, really, at long last?”

“Let me guess,” Albatross interrupts, mischief obvious on his face. He folds his hands under his chin and giggles. “Your theme is going to be… friendship. Summertime. Childhood.” He puts on a teasing tone. “Growing up and seeing the world differently than you did not too long ago…”

Lippmann scowls and flops back in his seat, a defeated look on his face.

“Well,” he scoffs. “Now I'm not telling you.”

“Why?” Higuchi pipes up. “Because it was one of the things Albatross listed?”

The budding actor's scowl tells it all.

“Of f*cking course it was,” he admits, throwing up his hands while the others laugh. “You assholes, I've done nothing but film us having fun and hanging out for like a month, what else was I going to do with all that footage? Yes, my theme is friendship, you absolute dickwads, and the next person to make fun of me doesn't get to be in the final cut!”

Albatross giggles and leans into Lippmann's shoulder, eyes thin with mirth behind his glasses. “Aww, Lippmann, I didn't mean to make you feel bad! Friendship is such a cute theme. I'm sure you'll be the only one to enter with that kind of idea in mind.”

Doc pipes up next, reaching across the table to swat Albatross's arm. Iceman moves his food to the side so Doc's sleeve doesn't drag through it. “Behave, you,” he scolds the younger boy, a mocking fierce expression on his face. He softens when he looks over at Lippmann, who seems utterly crestfallen. “It's a good theme. If nothing else, it will make for a sweet little movie. I am sure we will all cry at the preview.”

“What if it's really not unique enough?” Lippmann frets. He tugs at the cuffs of his sleeves. “Do you think the judges will laugh at it? God, I'd just about die…”

“I personally think it's good because it's easy to understand,” comes a voice from beside Chuuya. It's Tachihara, always the one to have decent advice. He leans against his fist and blows ginger hair out of his face as he talks. “Like, if you had a super complex theme and the judges couldn't understand it, they probably wouldn't like it. But friendship is an easy concept to convey. Video clip of a bunch of dudes hanging out - boom, that's friendship. Simple and easy. That's gotta get you some points.”

“Yeah, I didn't mean to actually insult you,” Albatross jumps in apologetically. A few strands of blonde fall into his face as he fiddles with his braid. “Michizō’s got a point. I didn't really think of it like that.”

“Plus,” says Sigma, who's just swallowed a huge mouthful of noodles and is neatly dabbing at her face with a napkin. There's a small, orange stain on her white shirt. “I'm pretty sure you could get multiple themes out of your footage, like the stuff Albatross said. Summer and childhood and whatnot. Leaves it up for interpretation.”

“Exactly,” Doc says triumphantly, and a few of the others nod.

This seems to have cheered Lippmann up again, as he's smiling and twirling his chopsticks in hand with a bright glint in his eyes. “Ok,” he says, “you guys make good points. I'll stick with what I'm working with, then, I think. If you're sure it's not gonna get me laughed off stage when they preview my film.”

Nobody points out the fact that Lippmann's piece might not even get selected to be previewed, because then he'll spiral even more and they'll be here all day. For all of the boy's confidence, he can be extremely hard on himself sometimes.

“You won't get laughed off stage,” Piano Man scoffs, and reaches out to ruffle Lippmann's hair. “Have some faith. They're going to love you. Seriously, who wouldn't?”

Lippmann swoons. “Well, yes, I suppose I am very loveable. Ryuunosuke, can I have your mochi if you're not going to eat it?”

Akutagawa, who had been tossing his mochi packets into his empty bento box, freezes and reaches up to pull a headphone out of his ear. “What? You want this?”

“Yes,” Lippmann says seriously. “Red bean mochi is my favourite kind of mochi, ever. Can you not hear us at all with those headphones on, by the way?”

The younger boy sighs and slides the mochi across the table towards a gleeful Lippmann. “I kind of can. I know when one of you is talking to me. You just all talk so much. Especially about Chuuya's new boyfriend who I am terribly sick of hearing about.”

Chuuya jolts as the attention is cast onto him, again, despite his best efforts to stay dead silent throughout the previous conversation.

“Oh my god,” he says aloud. “Dazai is not my boyfriend. I've known him for a week.”

Akutagawa shrugs. “He's living with you. Sounds like a boyfriend thing to do.”

Chuuya stares into the boy's unrelenting eyes with despair. “Have you been listening to anything I've said about this guy?”

“Enough to judge that you guys are definitely into each other,” Akutagawa says, and his lips twitch uncharacteristically. He's teasing. Chuuya can't believe this.

“You're terrible,” he says, knowing he's been beaten. Still, he tries. “How about we discuss your love life, man? What's the situation with you and the furry kid you were into a few weeks ago?”

Akutagawa is unshaken. “I never said I was “into” Nakajima. I simply looked at him a few times and you all assumed. Besides, he isn't actually a furry. He just really likes tigers.”

Lippmann raises an eyebrow. “And you'd know this how?”

Chuuya smirks at Akutagawa, who scowls and flushes a pale pink. “Because I spoke to him,” he mutters. “And he is dating someone already, so all of you can shut up now.”

“How'd you know that?” Tachihara asks curiously. “Did you ask him out?”

“No,” Akutagawa admits. “He just seems to take great delight in talking about his girlfriend. Nonstop. It was an awkward conversation.”

Higuchi gasps, clapping her hands together. “Who's his girlfriend? Is it that redhead that he's always hanging around with?”

“Lucy Montgomery,” Sigma says, twirling a bracelet around her wrist. “I've spoken to her once or twice. She's really into puppets. Ranpo told me she's a ventriloquist.”

At this point, Lippmann's eyebrows have shot off into the stratosphere. “Ranpo told you, did he?”

“Isn't Montgomery polyamorous?” Albatross suddenly says. “Isn't that what the flag on that pin on her blazer is? The yellow, pink and blue one?”

Akutagawa scrunches up his face. “I don't know. Nor do I care. I don't want to date Lucy Montgomery, especially not if she's a ventriloquist.”

“Why not?” Sigma questions. “Ventriloquism is so cool. You know, we should invite Lucy to sit with us some time. Her and Nakajima seem to spend most of their time by themselves when Ranpo's not with them.”

“Speaking of Ranpo,” Lippmann butts in, giggling like a schoolgirl, “are we going to discuss how you and him are talking right now?”

“Shut it,” says Sigma, with a good natured smile. “We're not talking- talking. We're just talking. Do you know him and EdPoe aren't dating at all?”

Half the table gasps. “Really?” Piano Man marvels. “That seriously cannot be true.”

“It is,” Sigma insists. “But they are apparently in some kind of arrangement, I forget what it's called -”

“Friends with benefits?” Albatross suggests.

Sigma snorts. “No talking from you, fifteen year old. No, it's like - queer platonic partners or something. I didn't even know what that was. But it apparently means they're not actually dating.”

Lippmann nods slowly. “Huh. Albatross, once you're done trying to figure out what flag Lucy Montgomery wears on her blazer, can you Google whatever the hell Sigma just said? My phone's dead.”

Albatross, who indeed had been on his phone searching something up, glances up at the rest of them guiltily. “Hey, listen, I'm nosy, ok? Let me live.”

Chuuya hears Akutagawa groan and stick his earbud back in his ear.

Then he feels Albatross's gaze on him, and looks over at him to see the wicked smirk he's receiving. “I think, in all the drama, we've forgotten who the real enemy is,” the boy says, peering over his glasses. “Chuuya Nakahara. We definitely have to discuss Dazai together now that we've met him.”

“Akutagawa and I did not,” Doc says, putting on a faux sad face. “But I would like to hear more. Lippmann, you're the only one of us who has ever succeeded in dating anybody for longer than three weeks apart from Chuuya, who doesn't count right now. Do you think him and Dazai will be dating by the end of June?”

“f*ck off,” Chuuya wails before Lippmann can answer. He pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning softly. “Guys, I don't even know if Dazai's into dudes. He sure spent enough time flirting with Ichiyō and Sigma.”

He waves in their general direction. At this, the girls look surprised, both glancing at each other and then back to Chuuya, snickering softly to themselves.

“Chuuya,” Sigma says, folding her hands in front of her. “You won't believe this, but Dazai wasn't flirting with us.”

“He was asking us about our phone plans,” Higuchi adds, and then laughs loudly, covering her mouth with her hands. “Of all the things to be interested in. We both told him we were with Mori Corp, and he said we should switch because it's sh*t. He said Docomo was way better. He was explaining to us how it not only has better signal and coverage, but it's actually way cheaper in the long run because local phone calls are free for five minutes monthly and “who even makes phone calls in 2023, anyway.” That's what he said.”

Chuuya is entirely thrown by this, fighting the urge to either laugh or simply shout, what? “That's… interesting,” he says, which seems to be the reaction of everybody else as well, who all have similar expressions of confusion. “I don't even know what to say to that.”

“Do you think he was just trying to start a conversation?” Piano Man says, sounding utterly bewildered. “I mean, that sounds like how Lippmann would try and flirt with someone he liked.”

“Hey,” Lippmann whines, clutching his chest. “I have game. Or I used to, at least, so f*ck off.”

“Maybe he's one of those tinfoil hat people who believe the government is tracking our every movement,” Albatross pipes up, wide eyed and leaning on his fists on the table. “I should ask him what he thinks of the Bermuda Triangle.”

“The government is tracking our every movement,” Tachihara says darkly. “Probably wouldn't even need our phones to do it, but I bet having them on us at all times doesn't help.”

“Huh,” Doc hums. “I have the sudden urge to stay offline for the rest of my life and live as a crazy cat man in a cabin in the woods.”

He straightens, his bones cracking as he does so. Chuuya sees Higuchi wince. “I will have to tell Dazai that I, too, use Mori Corp when I meet him. I would quite like to have a discussion with him to try and figure out his views on the government stealing all our data. Or, specifically, companies and organizations who swear they don't allow third party sharing and yet, somehow, the government has all our information. Why should I allow my phone to access my location? So a white van can come and pick me off the streets? I don't think so.”

“You are fascinating, Doc,” Sigma says with a titter. “Me personally, I don't wanna give Mori Ougai my parents money anyway. So I probably will switch. Who knows, maybe Dazai only dates girls who are with any one of his approved cell phone plans.”

She sticks her tongue out at Chuuya teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, embarrassed. He really had thought that Dazai had been flirting with Sigma and Higuchi, and for some reason, is weirdly relieved that he wasn't. He doesn't know why. He dismisses the feeling as simple protectiveness, not wanting his friends to get romantically involved with someone who they don't know enough about. Yeah, that makes sense to him.

“Maybe he works for Docomo,” Albatross suggests. “He could be, like, what's it called… an industry plant.”

“Pretty sure that's not what an industry plant is,” Chuuya tells him. “I have no idea what you're thinking of, but it's not that.”

“I mean,” Higuchi says, twirling her hair around her finger. “If this whole thing with Dazai was somehow orchestrated to be the world's most insane ad for a phone plan company, I'd have to applaud them. I don't know how morally ethical such a thing would be, but still.”

“Not very morally ethical,” Iceman mumbles, his first words all conversation. He goes pink when he sees people looking at him, covering the bottom half of his face with his sleeve. “I mean, if you think about it from a legal perspective. A company could get sued to hell and back for something like that.”

Chuuya looks down at his empty bento box and glares into it, suddenly annoyed with the topic of conversation. He feels like his head is going to explode.

Thankfully, Higuchi swoops in to save him, intentionally or not, he doesn't know. “You know, companies have been slacking when it comes to advertisem*nt in the modern era,” she begins, eyes ablaze with passion. “Companies used to have mascots and recognizable jingles, but nowadays, it seems that all they do is play whatever pop song was popular five months ago and get some J-pop idol to hold up a product. Not to even mention online advertising on websites and social media, which is a new whole can of worms. Lippmann, I remember you showed us that essay you wrote on that exact subject…”

Finally, Chuuya is free to zone out and not talk, while Higuchi and Lippmann entrance the rest of the group with their deep discussion on the history of product advertising. The bell rings not long after, and he shuffles off to class, but not without feeling weirdly disoriented, the way one does when an idea is planted into their mind that they just can't shake.

Ozaki is there when he comes home, slumped over on the couch looking as if she's half asleep with the TV murmuring in the background.

Chuuya frowns deeply, slinging his bag off and kicking his shoes to the side at the doorway. When he comes closer, he sees his sister is dressed down in a pair of sweatpants and a baggy pink hoodie that he's fairly sure he remembers Yosano wearing before, so she must have been home for a while. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap, but her head is tilted and leaning on her shoulder. She's still wearing makeup, painted eyelashes fluttering against her cheek.

He comes up beside her and shakes her shoulder gently. “Zaki,” he murmurs. “Zaki. Hey. Wake up.”

She stirs, a small yawn escaping her lips. Deep hazel eyes meet his, glazed over with tiredness. It raises a warm, protective feeling in Chuuya's chest that he knows well. In response to it, he reaches out and ruffles her hair, snickering at the annoyed sound she makes when she smacks his hand away.

“You're home already?” she sighs, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Damn, I was hoping to get a little more time free from your sh*t.”

“How cruel,” Chuuya laments. He crosses his arm, trying to decipher her expression. “Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at college?”

“My lecturer cancelled and I only had the one class today,” Ozaki tells him. She props herself up, yawning again. “So I came home early. I must have fallen asleep the second I sat down… and I had stuff I wanted to do this afternoon, too.”

A twinge of guilt passes through Chuuya's chest. “I'll help you,” he professes, trying for an eager smile. “Do you want me to make dinner?”

To his dismay, she shakes her head. “No, you shouldn't have to. You should be… relaxing, now that it's nearly summer, hanging out with all your friends.” Her eyes are dim and tired when she looks at him, the curve of her lips not matching her true emotions. “Act like a kid while you can, Chuuya.”

It goes unspoken - don't end up like me, wasting what should be the best years of my life looking after my little brother.

Well. Ozaki would never say that out loud. But Chuuya knows she's thinking it.

It's ok, because he also isn't going to tell her that he actually can't relax, not just because of his situation with Dazai, but because he's failing his classes and he has almost no time to make it all up to his teachers. She doesn't need to stress over that, too. Ozaki has enough on her plate without worrying about Chuuya's issues.

He's about to change the subject when Ozaki's eyes suddenly dip from his face to the television behind him, her gaze hardening at what she sees.

“I hate that man,” she voices, contempt clear in her words.

Chuuya turns around to see the face of one of the most recognizable men in Japan. Mori Ougai is on TV, on some kind of a video call with a smartly dressed interviewer. Thick black hair hangs around his face, too neatly to look anything other than uncanny. His dark suit is well pressed, and a crimson scarf lies loose around his neck. When he glances at the camera, Chuuya feels like those beady, hollow eyes are bearing directly into him.

“Agreed,” he says in response, pulling a face. “What's he doing?”

“Don't know,” Ozaki grunts, “don't care. He isn't killing himself, that's all I care about.”

Chuuya snickers at his sister's sudden aggression. She can be terribly nasty when she wants to be - the two of them fought a lot when they were much, much younger, when Chuuya was a bratty eight year old and Ozaki was twelve and angry about being the middle child. They both have scars from bite marks and nail scratches on their bodies, although Ozaki probably carries the majority of those. She always preferred to be cruel with her words instead of her fists. Chuuya had cried for an hour when she'd explained to him the legend of Hanako of the toilet and told him that she'd get him the next time he went into a bathroom at school.

He looks away from the TV back to Ozaki instead, not a fan of staring into the eyes of the creepy billionaire. There are rumours about that man - rumours that the alleged “mafia” that thrives underneath Yokohama are run by him, or by his company. Then again, those kinds of rumours are spoken about every billionaire CEO across the country. It's just that Mori is the one who looks most like he'd fit the bill of a mafia boss, at least to Chuuya.

“What's for dinner?” he asks.

Ozaki scrunches up her face. “Dunno. I'll take a look and come up later to ask what you want. Is Dazai coming round?”

Chuuya jolts, eyes widening. “Huh? Why? You're not still on that sh*t where you think we're dating, are you?”

She smirks teasingly. “I didn't say anything about that, did I? No, I just noticed he's been around a lot recently. Shut up, you, I'm not accusing you of anything. I was just saying. I haven't even seen Albatross in, like, a week.”

“He's around,” Chuuya says with a nonchalant shrug. “I've just been busy.”

All of a sudden, Ozaki's demeanour changes. He sees it in the way her shoulders tense, and her eyes narrow, and he swallows hard, knowing he's definitely about to be grilled.

“You'd tell me if something happened between you two again, right?” Ozaki asks. Seriousness lining her tone.

Chuuya nods rapidly. “Yes, Zaki. We're - we're fine, genuinely, there's just… you know, we're busy people.”

And there's a teenage boy living in Chuuya's room who doesn't have anywhere else to go. There's that too.

“Good,” Ozaki says fiercely. “I don't want a repeat of last time.”

“Well, there won't be,” Chuuya says, somewhat annoyed that she's bringing it up. “I'm fine.”

She studies him intently, hazel eyes burning lasers into him in a way that makes him squirm.

“Ok,” she eventually decides, relaxing slightly against the couch. “And you've been taking your m-”

“Zaki, yes!” Chuuya whines, twisting around to glance up the stairs. He wonders if Dazai's here or if he's still wandering around wherever he goes during the day. “You're helicopter parenting me, you know! That's what this is! Can't I just go up to my room without you pestering me?”

Ozaki smiles, although it doesn't quite stretch all the way to her eyes. “You've been listening to Jun too much. Alright, scat. Go do whatever it is that teenage boys do when they've got nothing better to do.”

He flips her off and grabs his bag, eager to dart towards the stairs and scamper up them. But before he can get past the first few steps, Ozaki speaks up again, and Chuuya stops dead in her tracks at what she says.

“Chuuya,” she calls. “You wouldn't lie to me anymore, right?”

He stares straight ahead of him, then flicks his gaze to the side, where the photos on the wall are hung. Paul looks right through him, gaze empty and plastic. In the picture, he has one arm slung around a tiny Chuuya's shoulders, a tiny Chuuya who looks happier than he could ever imagine feeling now.

“No,” he says without breaking eye contact with the photograph. “I wouldn't, Zaki. Don't worry so much about me, ok?”

He doesn't wait for her response before he heads upstairs and into his room.

Dazai seems completely unfazed when he walks in, barely looking up from his book. “Hey,” he says nonchalantly. “I heard you coming up the stairs. You have weirdly loud footsteps for someone so small.”

“Kill yourself,” Chuuya says, as way of greeting. “The hell are you even doing here this time of day, did you come in while Ozaki was here?”

“I never left,” Dazai groans. He sits up from the bed where he's sprawled himself as if he owns the place, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. He's wearing that same button up pinstripe top he'd had on the first time Chuuya had seen him, with a baggy blue sweater over it. “I was in the bathroom peeing earlier when she came back and I nearly had a heart attack. Couldn't even flush the toilet because of it, so sorry about that.”

He doesn't sound sorry at all. Chuuya lets out a huff and heads to his closet, intent on getting changed as soon as possible. The back of his neck itches. “You're disgusting,” he mutters, more as a reflex than anything else. “I'm sick of you. What do you even do when I'm not here? You better not be going through my sh*t, and I seriously mean that. I'll know if you do.”

“I haven't gone through any of your stuff,” Dazai says with a curt glare, annoyed at even the accusation. “I have much more suitable entertainment than whatever idiotic trinkets you've got strewn about the place, that's for sure. For your information, I'm reading.” He gestures to the book in front of him. “In case your chibi eyes can't see far enough into the distance to tell.”

“f*ck off,” Chuuya says, yanking clothes off the hangers with too much force. “Just - man, f*ck off.”

Dazai seems to notice something is off with him, because there is a silence before he speaks with a frown evident in his voice. “Chuuya's not at the top of his game today. Your insults are getting rather weak.”

Chuuya tunes him out and heads to the bathroom to get changed, irritated and hot in his uniform. It's a relief when he can rip the shirt over his head and lean against the wall, the cool tiles pleasant against his back. It's nice to be in a room that doesn't feel like it's staring at him. Everywhere in this house feels like that lately. Especially the f*cking staircase.

He gets changed quickly and heads back into the room, avoiding Dazai's curious gaze and opening his laptop. He needs to hand in that History essay he's been working on, but his head is starting to hurt. Pretty bad, actually. He can feel the incoming migraine throbbing insistently against his skull, swirling in his stomach like hot, heavy guilt.

It's a feeling he's too familiar with. Eventually, however, Dazai goes back to his book, facing away from Chuuya as if realizing he's not going to get any meaningful conversation out of him for a little while, and leaves Chuuya to breath, warm air fluttering against the palms of his hands as he covers his mouth with them.

Instead of opening his History essay and forcing himself to proofread it before he sends it like he'd promised himself he'd do all the way home, he opens Google instead.

Into the search bar he types: Dazai Osamu.

After one final check that Dazai's not looking in his direction, he hits the enter key. The results load within seconds. He isn't surprised to see that there are no pictures of his Dazai that pop up, but he is surprised to see pages of links that seem to be related to some author. The underrated author of The Setting Sun and other such works, says the first link. The man behind the pen - why Dazai Osamu isn't taught in schools, says another.

Ah. Chuuya had forgotten. Lippmann had said that Dazai shared a name with an author. What a strange coincidence - Osamu might be a more often heard name, but Dazai isn't. And Dazai knew the author, too.

Of course, it's possible that Dazai only knows the author because he'd known someone else like Lippmann in his time, someone who had pointed out the name. That's possible. But what are the chances that Dazai had just so happened to stumble across this apparently relatively unknown author on his own?

Maybe he had just Googled his own name at some point. God knows Chuuya and Albatross had done that every other week as little kids with nothing better to be doing.

As Chuuya scrolls, he sees that it really is only the first few articles that are about the author at all. The rest all seem to be links to buying his books from various sellers. There's barely any information about this man on the internet that Chuuya can find, but with a few minutes of scrolling, he finds the barest amount of information. He was born in 1909, had served in the war, had finished quite a few books that were apparently not notable enough to be named, and had died to suicide at about forty years old.

That part makes Chuuya shudder. The similarities are a little too real, a little too creepy. It makes his head spin, and he has to close the tab, dropping his head back into his hands, trying to ignore the waves of nausea that threaten to take him over in his stomach.

“Chuuya?” comes Dazai's voice, and Chuuya jumps, causing more pain to explode behind his eyes as he whips around to look at the boy. He's sitting up now, legs folded with his book leaning against his ankles. His expression gives nothing away.

“Yeah?” Chuuya says hoarsely, trying to look and sound as normal as possible.

Evidently, he fails, because Dazai leans in slightly with a suspicious squint. “You look pale. You're not sick, are you? Eugh, I don't want Chuuya's icky germs, I'm probably allergic to them!”

“If I was sick, you'd be getting it, too, like it or not,” Chuuya mutters. “You're in my room. But I'm not. I'm just… tired of schoolwork, is all. Can't wait for the year to be over.”

Dazai simply hums and says nothing. Chuuya expects him to call him out, but he doesn't. He's thankful for that. He really is stressed about schoolwork, at least a little. It just so happens that at the same time, he has about a hundred other anxieties building up on top of that.

His head really hurts.

He goes downstairs to get some water only to find that Ozaki had slipped into her room at some point without him hearing. It's silent here. Once upon a time, it was louder, constantly full of life with people bustling about at all times. There were more than two people here, and they were certainly happier, then, as if that means much of anything. There hadn't been ghosts lurking in every corner.

Paul's smiling face lurks in Chuuya's line of vision as he starts back up the stairs to his room.

“Stop looking at me,” Chuuya says aloud. His grip on his glass of water tightens. “You f*cking asshole.”

There is no reply, as was to be expected.

“It's not my fault,” Chuuya tells him. A shiver runs through him, down his back. “It's not my fault. You should have stayed. Dick. You knew what you were doing.”

In Chuuya's mind, it feels like Paul's smile only gets wider.

A sudden wave of dizziness nearly knocks him breathless, and he has to slump over, resting his forehead on the rim of his glass. It's cool and wet. His hands feel rather numb against his legs.

Paul would be so terribly disappointed if he knew about what his little brother was doing with his life. Chuuya can't really bring himself to care.

He stands up again after a few minutes, finally able to do so without his legs giving out on him. One last time, he glares at the photograph. It doesn't glare back.

“I hope you're happy,” Chuuya mumbles. “Hope you're f*cking happy.”

He then puts on the face of a normal person and heads back into his bedroom without another word.

It isn't long before Chuuya's friends want to hang out with Dazai again. He had kind of expected this. It is the end of the year, after all, and basically everybody except Chuuya has been winding down on schoolwork, hanging out around town instead of staying indoors. So when he reluctantly asks Dazai if he wants to go see a movie with his friends, promising to pay for his ticket (“I can pay for my own ticket,” Dazai says, looking rather annoyed, “I'm not an actual charity case.”), he tells him he'd be more than delighted to.

Piano Man, ever the superhero nerd, had advocated for seeing Across The Spiderverse, and they'd all pretty much agreed. Chuuya had seen the first one in cinema with Albatross years and years ago - Paul had taken them, not that he wants to think about that right now - so he's actually pretty excited for this. Despite having told Dazai he'd pay for him, he doesn't have any money, so he has to beg Ozaki to give him a few yen so he can buy a ticket and get some snacks. Of course, the snack money would actually be for Dazai, but it's ok. He can make Doc or Lippmann buy him snacks. They won't mind.

Ozaki is reluctant to give in, but after Chuuya's sworn to washing and drying dishes for the rest of the summer, a task he certainly won't actually be made to carry out, she relents. “Just because you've been so well behaved lately,” she tells him teasingly. “You deserve a reward for having gone so long without punching somebody.”

They meet up at the entrance to the cinema downtown, where Albatross, Lippmann and Higuchi are already waiting. “Hey,” Higuchi says when she sees them, waving a pale hand in their direction. “Did you see the group chat? There might be less of us today than planned. Apparently Doc and Iceman aren't showing up, and neither is Akutagawa, again. Hi, Dazai.”

Dazai's lips quirk up at the acknowledgment, mischief in his eyes. “Afternoon, Higuchi. Tell me, will the beautiful belladonna Sigma be joining us today? I messaged her earlier, but alas, I received no such reply.”

He does a dramatic swooning motion that makes the others snort. However, Chuuya is more interested in something else. “Wait, what do you mean, you messaged Sigma?” he says, unable to hide the small hint of annoyance in his voice. Also - “beautiful belladonna?” Who says that? “When did you guys even exchange numbers? What the hell?”

“Oh, we didn't,” Dazai says, straightening and looking rather amused at Chuuya's red face. “I don't have a phone number. I just gave her my Instagram.”

Lippmann makes a weird noise in the back of his throat. “You don't have a phone number?”

“Nope,” Dazai says. “I don't believe in them. The government's tracking us through those, you know.” He turns to smile at Chuuya cheekily, hands casually tucked into his pockets as Lippmann and Albatross exchange looks behind him.“It was when we were on the beach. Didn't you hear us talking about it?”

“We saw you guys making goo-goo eyes at each other, that's for sure,” Albatross says, folding his arms across his chest. He's wearing one of Chuuya's t-shirts, he notices, an old Paramore one that he'd thought he had lost. Figures that Albatross would have stolen it. “Five minutes in the ground and Dazai's already stealing Sigma away from us.”

His eyes deliberately flick over to meet Chuuya's, one eyebrow raised, and Chuuya flushes further when he realizes what the boy is trying to do. Chuuya scowls harder, turning away to try and get his expression under control. He doesn't need his friends thinking he's upset about the fact that Dazai and Sigma are flirting in their Instagram DMs. Why would he care? Let Sigma take Dazai into her home and deal with him twenty four-seven, and see how she likes him then.

“Anyway,” Higuchi says, thankfully interrupting the silence. “Sigma is coming, she should be here soon. Piano Man and Michizō should be too, if they're not lying liars. I know Michizō has to take a train, so he might be late.”

“Brilliant,” Chuuya mumbles, mood put out. He slumps against a poster for the new Ant-Man movie and pulls his phone out of his pocket, determined to distract himself. Unfortunately, there's nothing much to do on there, and Chuuya's already running out of data for the month despite June barely having just started. So he just flicks back and forth between old photos, pretending he's doing something worthwhile while Dazai and the others have a pleasant conversation about something that Chuuya can't be bothered to listen into.

Piano Man arrives within the next five minutes, and then Tachihara, who clearly ran here and does his best to pretend he's not annoyed by the fact that he could have walked and still made it in enough time. The movie's close to starting by the time Sigma trods up, dressed in a loose cardigan and spaghetti strap pink top over a denim skirt. “Hi, gang,” she greets them through the hairband that she has in her mouth. She grins wickedly, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail and nodding in Dazai's direction. “Hi, Dazai.”

“Sigma,” Dazai says, and he pretends to bow. “What a pleasure it is to see you again. I've dreamt of this day arriving.”

“Oh, quit it,” Sigma scoffs, rolling her eyes. Evidently, the two of them have gotten well acquainted since they last spoke in person, more so than Chuuya had assumed. He bites down on his lip so hard it stings as Sigma greets the others and marches to the doors of the cinema. “Let's hurry in, I don't want to miss the ads or trailers. That's the best part of the whole thing.”

Chuuya is so annoyed that he forgets to pester one of his friends into buying him snacks until they've all paid and are making their way into the correct screen, which dampens his mood even further until Albatross skips towards his side and presses a bag of popcorn into his side.

“Figured you'd want some,” he says cheekily, grinning wide. “It's salty, don't worry. You absolute freak of nature.”

Chuuya is so touched he could really cry. “You didn't need to do that.”

“Yeah, well,” Albatross shrugs, tossing a greasy handful of his own snack into his mouth. “I know you and Zaki are short on money right now, and I saw you paid for Dazai's ticket when he wasn't looking, so.” He knocks into Chuuya's side, snickering. “Popcorn for my bro. My best bro in the whole wide world.”

A smile finally crosses his face, a genuine one. “Alright,” he says reluctantly, nudging Albatross back. “I suppose you're my best bro too. I suppose.”

They find themselves sitting next to each other inside the screening - Chuuya looks to his other side to see Lippmann and Tachihara there, and has to crane his neck behind him to see that Dazai, Sigma and Higuchi have all sat together. He turns back around with a huff, ignoring the fact that Albatross is clearly staring at him and trying to get his attention, probably so he can laugh at him. Chuuya chooses to do the thing that will make him least miserable and focuses on the giant screen instead.

The movie is good. Extremely good, in fact, probably one of Chuuya's favourites of the year. Not that he watches many movies in theatres, being as broke as he is. But whatever. They stick around for a bit while the credits roll, chatting and waiting for an extra scene, and when there isn't one, they decide to just gather up all their trash and leave.

“Best movie this year,” Albatross gushes on the way out. His face is pink with excitement, and he hasn't stopped smiling since the first song had played. “Oh, we all have to go see the next one together, it's such a shame Doc, Iceman and Ryuu couldn't come.”

“I did miss having Doc along,” Sigma admits, nodding solemnly. “He's such fun to have around during movies.”

She then turns to Dazai at her side with a smirk. “Doc loves pointing out the inconsistencies in things we watch together,” she informs him. “He's the f*cking worst. He's seriously insufferable. I love him to death, but he would have complained the whole time.”

“This is true,” Piano Man confirms. He stops them at a bin, dumping his slushie cup and sweet wrappers. “I tried watching The Sixth Sense for the first time when Doc was hanging at my house one time. Jesus. Never f*cking again.”

Chuuya's about to jump in with an anecdote of his own about the time Doc had just about had a fit watching The Maze Runner with him, when he senses an unfortunate presence nearby that makes his skin crawl.

Albatross has sensed it too. Chuuya can tell, because the boy has tensed up at his side, freezing in his tracks and staring straight ahead of him. Chuuya follows his eyes until, to his utter dismay, he catches onto the source of the bad feeling he'd been receiving, standing in the middle of the lobby, looking at the snack menu.

“Fu-uck,” Lippmann groans from behind them. “Not those bastards, please.”

“What?” Dazai says. He looks confused, reaching forward to tap Chuuya's arm. “Who are those guys?”

There's not really any time to explain before one of the teens seems to notice the group staring at them and turns around with wide, grey eyes.

“Chuuya?” Fyodor calls. There is a huge grin on his face, neat, white teeth flashing. “Ah, Chuuya, it's so good to see you here, hi! I missed seeing you around! Bram, Kolya, come over here. Chuuya's here with his friends!”

“No, don't f*cking bring them over here,” Chuuya says loudly, but it's too late. The trio of freaks is already making their way over, delighted to have entertainment. He feels Albatross shrink back the closer they get, hiding half behind him as if it was possible for all one hundred and seventy centimeters of him to remain unseen behind the hundred and forty that Chuuya sports. He feels a warm, rough hand fumble for his, and he clings to it tightly, glaring the group down the closer they get.

“Hi, guys!” Fyodor laughs with a small wave. He's dressed in a thick white jacket and grey slacks despite the summer heat, making him stand out against everyone else in the lobby. His greasy looking hair is held back with bobby pins, leaving his unnaturally pale face free to be cringed at. “What a coincidence that we'd run into you here!”

“Hiii, Lippmann,” Gogol coos from where they've come up behind Fyodor. They couldn't be dressed any differently from Fyodor, wearing a heavy looking white dress with frills and black lining down the front, pink fishnets matching their pastel clown-themed makeup that coats their entire face. Tall, heeled boots make them tower over their friend. “I've missed you!”

Lippmann cringes, hard, colour flooding his face. “Hi, Nikolai,” he deadpans. “Good to see you too.”

Gogol pouts, painted red lip jutting outwards. “Not Niko anymore?” they tease. “So cruel, Lippmann, but I suppose I'll accept it.”

Bram, the third member of this ridiculous trio, doesn't say a word. He doesn't usually have to - his height alone, standing at well over six feet at only seventeen years old, makes him insanely intimidating. He's dressed in all black, more chains and belts than Chuuya and Akutagawa combined could fit into an outfit practically smothering him. Again, not really dressed for the summer weather. Long, white hair cascades down his shoulders, tangled and unparted. His expression is flat and bored, jaw moving rapidly as he chews on what must be several wads of gum at once. He looks rather like a snake.

The three of them stand in a way that rather reminds Chuuya of that American high school movie that Yuan had made him watch in a bad Japanese dub once. He doesn't remember the name of it, just that they'd enjoyed wearing the colour pink on Wednesday's for some reason. It's almost hysterical how well they fit the image of a bully-trio stereotype. He'll have to remember to make a joke about it later, when this situation doesn't pose a direct threat to him and his friends any longer.

“f*ck off,” he says, scowling at the trio. “None of us want anything to do with you.”

“That's not true,” Gogol simpers. They blow a kiss in Lippmann's direction. “Lippmann's still in love with me.”

“I promise you I'm not,” Lippmann says, sounding rather desperate. He is very red, arms crossed tightly in front of him as if to shield himself. “You're the worst person I've ever dated. Especially since you hang around with this f*cker.”

He nods in Fyodor's direction. The boy gasps and claps a hand to his chest. “What? What problem do you have with me? I don't recall ever having done anything to you, Lippmann.”

Then he locks eyes with Albatross, who immediately stiffens, and giggles. He waves with the tips of his fingers, teeth like a shark's. “Hi-i, Albatross.”

Albatross doesn't say a word. Anger flares up in Chuuya's chest. “Listen, man, go see your f*cking movie and f*ck off -”

But Fyodor's attention has shifted from him to, Chuuya realizes with a shock of dismay, Dazai. Steel eyes light up with interest. “And who might you be?”

There's no time to tell Dazai not to bother replying, because he just goes ahead and does it. “Dazai,” he says, and there's intrigue in his voice, too, studying Fyodor like he's an organism underneath a microscope. He looks wary, cautious, but his visible eye is wide.

Fyodor hums. “What's your given name?”

“You don't need to know that,” Lippmann starts, but Dazai's already replying before he can finish.

“Osamu,” he says. “And you are?”

Fyodor tilts his head with interest. “Dazai Osamu… Haha, like the author. Has anybody ever told you that you share a name with an author, Dazai Osamu?”

“Strangely, yes,” Dazai says. His jaw is set in place. “But I asked your name, not for you to tell me about mine.”

“Oh, alright,” Fyodor says enthusiastically, bouncing on his heels like he's a child. “I'm Fyodor Dostoyevsky, and these are my friends, Nikolai and Bram! Say hi, guys, be polite!”

Chuuya grits his teeth and makes a motion to try and dart around Fyodor, but then Gogol is in his way, several feet taller than him and smiling viciously. “It's not nice to run away while people are talking to you, you know!” they say cheerily, and Chuuya wants to scream.

“Come on, Fyodor,” comes a voice - Sigma, stepping forward from around Piano Man, who Chuuya now realizes had stepped forward to protect her when he'd first seen Fyodor, bless him. There's a dull look of annoyance in her eyes, not giving away any nervousness. “Don't be an ass, not right now. There's a ton of people here who can all see you blocking our way out.”

Chuuya sees Higuchi grab Sigma's arm protectively, eyes narrowed in the trio's direction. Sigma relaxes slightly, knocking their hands together.

Fyodor's smile only twitches upwards. “Hi, Sigma,” he draws, instead of acknowledging anything else she said. “You look good.”

“Oh, yes,” Gogol pipes up, clapping their hands together and cooing. “You look seriously so cute, Sigma. You should have transitioned earlier, I could have picked some really adorable outfits from my wardrobe for you!”

“Uh huh, thanks,” Sigma says, looking both bemused and irritated by the compliments. She's clinging to her own sleeves, knuckles white. “Let us by, please.”

Gogol lets out a laugh. “Ok, ok. Fedya, let's excuse them, step aside - you too, Brammy!”

That seems a little too easy, a thought which is confirmed to Chuuya when he realizes that, even without the trio in their way, they can't get out of the theatre. The stairwell here is always roped off so as to prevent people from darting in without tickets, apart from one small area where a woman stands at a ticket booth, ready to check everybody who comes in. Unfortunately, it's also their only way out, and it's currently blocked off by a group of about seven or eight young kids and two tired looking adults, fumbling in purses and pockets for money.

What a f*cking pain. Chuuya really could scream.

Beside him, Albatross digs his nails into the palm of his hand, a clear sign that he's definitely going to freak out if they don't get out of here soon. If Chuuya was here by himself, he'd definitely just jump the rope barriers and risk getting banned from the cinema for causing a scene. However, he knows his friends are not all as athletic as he is. Lippmann never shuts up about how troublesome it will be to find a stunt double “as beautiful as he is” to play the more strenuous scenes in the films he'll one day star in.

“f*ck you, man,” he says aloud, bearing holes into Fyodor's face. “If you don't go away and stand somewhere else, we're just gonna spoil the movie for you.”

A childish move, but if that's what it takes - apparently, though, it's not the right play. “The new Transformers movie?” Fyodor says, eyebrows raised. “Oh, dear, don't spoil that for us, please! We've been so excited to see it for so long!”

His tone is deadpan in a way that gives away the fact that he knows they weren't just in Transformers, and also that he probably doesn't care about spoilers. Chuuya wouldn't be surprised to find out that he looked up a summary of it before coming here. What a freak he is.

“You're a real dick,” Piano Man says coolly. He looks more pissed off than Chuuya usually seems him, given that the man is always so composed. “We're just not talking to you anymore. Seriously, piss off. We can report you for harassment if you don't leave us alone.”

His statement goes completely ignored as Fyodor suddenly frowns, again looking over at Dazai, blinking and squinting as if it will help him see any better.

“I know you,” he announces, and points directly at Dazai.

Chuuya recognizes the slight jolt of Dazai's shoulders, but he manages to keep himself together. “You probably have,” he says with a shrug. “I live in the area.”

Fyodor continues to stare. “No,” he says, with a note of finality. “Something else.”

At that moment behind them, the group at the ticket booth slowly begin to clear out. Chuuya hears a breath of relief from Lippmann. Not one of them wants to stand here any longer.

Fyodor's eyes flicker behind him, almost bored, and he sighs. “Well, I guess we'll see you all later. Unless you want to ditch your group and come hang out with us now, Chuuya? It'd be fun. Bram’s buying us all hot dogs.”

“I'd rather set myself on fire,” Chuuya spits, fury rising in his chest at just the question.

A grin rises on Fyodor's face. “Ah-ah, Chuuya, but it seems you're already on fire, if you'd look down!”

He nearly actually does look down, making a total fool of himself, but he manages to avoid it. As it is, hot embarrassment flares across his face, anger and humiliation mixing together to create the most painful co*cktail in his stomach. However, the ticket gateway is clear now, and they waste no time heading through as quickly as possible without sparing the ticket lady a single glance.

And even after they've gotten to the doors and heaved them open, they can still hear crows of laughter and Gogol's delighted shrieks of, “Chuuya's pants are on fire! Help, Dostoy, Brammy, call the fire department before it's too late!”

They walk several blocks before any one of them speaks up.

“I'm going to kill that guy,” Lippmann says. His tone is pleasant, like he's discussing the weather, but his voice is trembling somewhat. “It'd be so easy. All you'd have to do is bruise him once and he'd bleed out internally and die.”

There's another couple moments of silence.

“I must admit I didn't understand the joke about Chuuya being on fire,” Sigma murmurs. She looks rather pale, staring at the ground before her while she walks. Higuchi is still clinging to her, steady enough for the both of them, keeping the other girl upright. “I don't think he really thought that one through. How terribly stupid.”

Albatross is squeezing Chuuya's hand so tightly that he's probably cutting off the blood circulation there. His head is hanging downwards, clearly trying to hide his face. Chuuya doesn't look at him too long, not wanting to upset him further.

Eventually, Sigma lets out a sigh and turns to Dazai. “I imagine you must be confused.”

“A little,” Dazai admits. He catches Chuuya's eyes briefly before looking away, making a face. “But it wasn't really difficult to figure out what was going on.”

“Mhm-hm,” Sigma hums, finally straightening and smiling at Higuchi to let her know she's alright. Her eyes are still darker than usual, but she looks closer to herself again. “Fyodor is a huge piece of sh*t, which I'm sure you gathered. He's antagonistic, petty, pathetic, and all around evil. His favourite thing to do is goading people into getting angry and snapping at him so he can use his mega-rich parents to get them into huge trouble. And Chuuya kind of has a reputation of getting into fights for the dumbest reasons, so Fyodor's been after him for a while, just trying to see how long he can go before Chuuya goes after him.” She glances at Chuuya with amusem*nt. “I'm surprised you've lasted this long. Even I want to kick the sh*t out of that asshole.”

Chuuya just smiles weakly and faces front again, heart thumping.

Sigma continues explaining as the group of them walk aimlessly, no particular destination in mind. Fyodor's presence has really dulled all of their moods. “In case you didn't figure it out, I used to be friends with Fyodor. I moved to Yokohama three years ago and ended up in this awful group of older boys who I thought liked me but, as it turns out, they were into some nasty sh*t and needed me to be a scapegoat for them. Then Fyodor swooped in and got me out of there, and I thought he was so great, but as it turns out, he wasn't any better.”

A wry smile crosses her face. “He's an extremely controlling person,” she tells Dazai. “He hates it when people don't listen to him, and he has weird rules over what things you're allowed to do when you're friends with him. He's extremely cruel, and he always looks at you like he can read your mind, and every time you see him it feels like he just got done making fun of you behind your back. All in all, awful, awful vibes. I'm super lucky that these guys picked up on me and got me away from there. I probably wouldn't have been brave enough to do it on my own.”

“Jesus,” Dazai says, after a pause. His nose is wrinkled with distaste. “Why do people stand that guy?”

“Because he's rich,” Lippmann sneers. He smooths back his hair with his hands, examining his reflection in a shop mirror to see if it's neat. Consistent as always, even when he's angry. “He can offer people things to make them either leave him alone or stay by his side. Even some teachers tolerate his sh*t because they're afraid of the influence his parents have. Shibusawa-sensei is the worst about it. He sucks up to Fyodor so bad it's disgusting.”

“He's not popular, don't get us wrong,” Piano Man jumps in. “He's exactly the opposite. Nobody likes him, except his little clique. As far as I know, Gogol was a childhood friend of his, so I guess that's why they stick around. Bram, nobody knows. He just showed up some day. There used to be another guy, dude called f*ckuchi, but he got expelled a while ago. I'm pretty sure he's in juvie or something right now, last I heard.”

Sigma cringes, yanking on the ends of her ponytail. “When I was friends with him, he gave me a bunch of stuff, too. I mean, he knew my family was struggling money-wise, and he got me a job waiting tables at a casino that his cousin or somebody works at. They never even asked for my ID or any proof of age. It was kind of cool.” She shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “I quit when I stopped hanging around with them. Figured it'd be less embarrassing than getting fired, or anything else Fyodor could pull strings to have happen.”

She makes eye contact with Dazai. “Also, getting this out of the way now, but I'm trans. Figured that since Nikolai kind of outed me back there, I'd just make that clear.”

Dazai nods. “Yeah, I got that. Sorry they did that to you.”

“What a sh*tty thing to do,” Piano Man seethes. He has his mouth morphed into a permanent scowl, cheeks pink with silent fury. “Gogol might not be as bad as Fyodor, but they're still a f*cking freak. Seriously, they're sad*stic and nasty and don't give a crap about other people's boundaries. They seem to enjoy scaring the living bejesus out of people.”

“Stop looking at me,” Lippmann says, covering his face as Piano Man pointedly glares. “They weren't that bad when I dated them. Besides, it was only for three months. It wasn't that bad.”

“What was that relationship like?” Tachihara asks, and both Chuuya and Albatross jump. He hasn't spoken in so long that they'd practically forgotten he was there. Then again, it makes sense. Tachihara is new around here, and has no stakes in the game. There wasn't really a reason for him to say anything when he barely even knows who Fyodor and his gang are.

Lippmann groans. “Full of clowns. Too many clowns.”

He suddenly stops, and looks up at the sign for the restaurant they've come up to. “Guys, can we go to McDonalds and stop talking about Fyodor now?”

They are in front of a McDonalds, Chuuya sees now. He hadn't even noticed where they were, so lost in his own head as he was.

“I wouldn't mind eating,” Sigma says. “I need a f*cking nasty ass milkshake to take my mind off of things.”

“Yeah, I could f*ck up a burger right now,” Higuchi agrees, and with almost everyone agreeing, they begin to file into the restaurant, into the cool air of the air conditioned interior.

However, Albatross has barely moved and hasn't spoken a word, so Chuuya speaks up before they go in. “I'm just gonna - I told Ozaki I'd call her. Give me a few minutes, ok?”

He pulls Albatross aside as everybody else nods and goes in. Dazai shoots him a questioning look, his gaze falling onto Albatross's unresponsive form, but Chuuya just shakes his head and gestures for him to go with the others before taking out his phone and pretending to make a call.

Of course, he doesn't actually have to. Ozaki's probably at college right now, or out with Yosano. He just needed an excuse to stay outside with Albatross.

He sits down on the small ledge outside the window. One of his hands is still linked with Albatross's, and he squeezes it gently, just letting the boy know he's here.

“You ok?” he asks quietly. “Not talking?”

Albatross shakes his head, which is at least some form of a response. That's alright. Chuuya's used to Albatross going nonverbal under stress. He just nods and runs his thumb along the side of his hand, comforting.

“Sorry,” Chuuya mumbles. “I should have just ignored him from the start. Do you want me to call your mom?”

His friend shakes his head even harder, this time, and suddenly dives into his pocket for his phone. Opening a fresh notes page, he begins to type rapidly. This is their usual form of communication when one of them is too overwhelmed to speak. It's a relief that Albatross is at least trying, and isn't still frozen and unmoving. It probably means he'll be ok.

are YOU ok? Is what he's typed, in the middle of the page. Chuuya swallows and smiles as confidently as he can, bobbing his head.

“Yeah,” he says. “Fyodor can't faze me. That guy's not scary. I could take him down any day.”

Don't though. you'll get kicked out of school.

“I know,” Chuuya murmurs. “I know.”

The pants on fire thing was a stupid joke by the way like that was seriously so f*cking dumb. I hope he feels embarrassed thinking about it later on

A smile makes its way onto Chuuya's face. “Yeah, he fumbled that one, didn't he? f*ck that guy. Can't even insult someone correctly.”

I hope the transformers movie is terrible and he regreys spending his money on it and I hope Nikolai dumps co*ke all down their dumb ass clown outfit and Fyodor's stupid jacket too and it stains them permanently and then clown music starts playing from the speakers really loud snd everybody points and laugjs at them

He finishes typing this with a note of finality, and when Chuuya looks at him, there's at least a smile on his face. Chuuya laughs, even though they both know that Albatross's manifestation is pretty dumb, just because they're both relieved that they're both able to make jokes about the whole thing.

“Yeah,” Chuuya says. “Yeah. Me f*cking too. Do you wanna go inside, then? I have a few yen left, I can get you something cheap if you want. Sorry that I don't have anything more.”

Albatross snorts. You don't have to worry about paying me back or whatever the f*ck man yoy should know this by now. But yes you can buy me fries. Thanks o(^▽^)o

Then he hesitates, and adds something else on. If the other guys asks whats up with me just tell them im really tired ok tell them im super cranky cause i didn't get my beauty sleep last night

Chuuya knows their routine. But still, he nods. “Yeah man, of course. You don't even have to ask me. I'm your number one shooter, remember?”

He knocks against Albatross's side. At this point, he's entirely given up the presence of being on a phone call, so he just hopes none of the others are watching them through the window. Not that he really cares. He knows that no matter what, none of his friends would ask any questions if they knew Chuuya didn't want them to.

Albatross nods and gets to his feet. But when Chuuya turns away, he yanks on his sleeve and shows him the last thing he's written at the end of the page.

You should come to mine this weekend. I know my sisters are a pain but you havent been around in forever and my mom is starting to think you died.

Chuuya chuckles, remembering what Ozaki had said a few days ago. Him and Albatross really do spend most of their time together, possibly too much so, if a week and a bit of absence from each other outside of school has their families so worried. “Yeah, maybe. I'd like that. I've missed Jun, I've been going through withdrawals from her baking.”

Albatross grins, and to Chuuya's surprise, pulls him into a quick hug before shoving him away almost immediately and spinning around to dart inside the door.

He stands out there for just a moment longer, reeling slightly from everything that had happened today, and then puts on a brave face and heads inside with everybody else.

Albatross is pretty much nonverbal for the rest of the evening, which nobody takes any question to, because it's pretty normal. Albatross is either the loudest bastard around, or he'll be dead silent for three days straight. Usually, his periods of quiet are broken when Chuuya's around, always managing to scare the sh*t out of him. He remembers an occasion in which Albatross hadn't spoken in nearly a week until one day he'd been hanging out in Chuuya's bedroom, dropped his phone on his foot and shouted the loudest “f*ck!” that he had ever heard in his life. He had seriously thought he was going to have a heart attack.

Tonight, however, the group separate without a word from Albatross, and Chuuya walks the boy home with Dazai at his side, just because he lives close enough to Albatross that it only makes sense to do so. When they get back to Chuuya's place, Dazai nods at him and heads around to the side of the house to start the climb into his bedroom while Chuuya unlocks the front door. Really, he thinks, it's a blessing that nobody has lived in that old house next to them since he was basically a baby. He thinks the place is haunted. Sometimes, he thinks he hears weird noises coming from it at night.

Ozaki's left a note on the fridge. At Akiko's tonight, will be back late. Texted you but got no reply as per usual… check your phone every once in a while, you heathen. What kind of teenager never checks their phone? For goodness sake. There are some microwave meals in the freezer - I know it's nothing fancy but you'll just have to SUCK IT UP. See you by ten-ish probably. Don't punch anyone while I'm gone. Feed Baki.

It makes him smile. He goes over to Arahabaki's food bowl and fills it, causing the dog to come sprinting from the living room to get some. “You lazy dog,” Chuuya scolds her as she jumps up on his legs, panting. “You won't come when you hear me enter the house, but you'll come when you hear food? Greedy. Greedy dog. You'll need to go on a diet soon.”

By the time he goes upstairs, Dazai is already there, slumped against the wall under the windowsill. “Hey,” he says nonchalantly, hand flopping in a weak wave. “Don't mind me. Just on your floor.”

Chuuya snorts. “So you are. You're free to roam until ten-ish, by the way. Ozaki's out with Yosano.”

Dazai sits bolt upright. “So you're telling me I didn't have to climb the pipe?”

“Well, yeah,” Chuuya replies, holding back a laugh at the look on Dazai's face. “But I figured you need the exercise.”

“I exercise plenty!” Dazai screeches. He pounds his fists on the floor like a small child. “I play Pokemon Go! Chuuya, you're so very mean to me. I should just run away and never speak to you again for this kind of blatant mistreatment!”

“Do what you must,” Chuuya says gravely. He faces away from Dazai, hiding his small smile as he folds his school clothes. “You overdramatic baby.”

Dazai's quiet, and Chuuya turns around to see what he's up to. The boy is just kind of staring off into space, no particular expression on his face. He looks lost in thought. When he notices Chuuya looking, he presents a cheesy smile, but it quickly dissipates. Chuuya gnaws the inside of his lip so hard it stings.

“What?” he asks. “Stop thinking, it makes you look stupid.”

Dazai snickers softly, and finally gets off the floor, hauling himself up just so he can pace around the room, tapping one hand against the other. Chuuya's noticed that Dazai stims a lot, and that he hates his stimming being referred to as such, and also that the second another person notices him doing it, he gets massively defensive about it. So he glances away and doesn't say anything, suddenly exhausted for no reason.

“So,” Dazai finally says. “What was all of that with Albatross?”

So he'd noticed. Of course he did. Dazai is too observant for his own good. Chuuya sighs and flops down onto the bed, blowing air from his cheeks so his hair flutters upwards and settles back in front of his ears. Dazai watches him, still pacing.

“Well,” Chuuya begins, and he practically hears Dazai's ears perk up. He has to force himself not to roll his eyes. “Sigma wasn't a hundred percent correct when she said Fyodor likes tormenting us because he wants to get me to snap and hurt him so he can get me in trouble. That's partially true. But it's not - it's not exactly the whole story.”

“Ok,” Dazai says. He's stopped moving, standing still by Chuuya's bookcase. “You don't have to tell me.”

He wants to know, Chuuya can tell. And Chuuya - kind of wants to talk about it. Even if it's to Dazai. He doesn't talk about this kind of stuff to many people. The only people who know are Ozaki, his therapist, and of course, Albatross. Albatross knows everything about him. Always has.

Chuuya swallows. “You have to promise to never bring this up to any of the others. Or anyone at all.”

“I don't exactly have anyone to tell,” Dazai says, a note of amusem*nt in his voice. “It's just you. I mean, I could type it in Odasaku's Instagram DMs, but he'd never read it.”

The joke is told in a very deadpan way, even though he has a smile fixed on his face. Chuuya bobs his head, feeling like a bit of a dumbass. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely, “yeah, ok. Well, I - back in elementary school, Fyodor and I used to be friends. Shocker, I know. But it wasn't exactly - he was different, then.”

Dazai's listening very intently, hands folded behind his back. Chuuya wants to interrupt himself and tell him to just get his bed out and sit there, or find a place at his desk if he wants, but he doesn't bother. Dazai does what he likes anyway. Knowing him, Chuuya telling him to sit would just make him stand around longer.

“Albatross and I were basically friends from birth,” he explains. “You know the old, cliche story where the mothers meet in hospital and their kids grow up best friends. That was us. Anyway, we were friends in elementary school, and Fyodor joined in our second year. He was a lonely seeming kid, but he liked me. He always wanted to hang out with me, and he shared his fancy lunches with me, and he invited me to his house and let me play on his expensive games consoles that I couldn't ever imagine owning. It was crazy. Anyway, we became relatively good friends. There was just one problem with that.”

Dazai nods solemnly. “He didn't like Albatross.”

Chuuya doesn't bother telling him off for interrupting. “Yeah. He didn't. They didn't get along at all. But you know, we were eight. Kids don't like each other for the most ridiculous reasons. We all still managed to be civil towards each other, as much so as a little kid can.”

His phone buzzes. He ignores it. “Anyway, you might have realized this about Albatross, but he's autistic. He was diagnosed when he was four, and it kind of messed him up socially. So the problem with this whole situation was that Albatross didn't really have… any other friends apart from me. And I was hanging out with Fyodor, and I was trying my best to include him, but Fyodor wasn't having it. He just didn't like him, for no reason at all. They just couldn't get along.”

God, speaking this much is tiring. Chuuya's already getting another headache. They seem to spawn in multitudes lately, and they don't go away for hours. Chuuya's in for a rough evening, it seems.

“I thought that was all there was to it,” Chuuya says. He doesn't look at Dazai anymore, not particularly wanting to see his expression. “But it wasn't. We got close to entering third grade, and I was seeing Albatross less and less, both in school and out of it. I couldn't figure out why. Every time I saw him, I'd pester him about it, but he never told me. He just told me everything was ok and not to worry about him. I thought maybe the problem was his new baby sister, that maybe he was just upset about receiving less attention because he wasn't the youngest anymore. So I didn't keep pressing, because I thought it was fine.”

Chuuya takes a shaky breath, dragging his fingers backwards through his hair and yanking the hairband holding up his ponytail out in the process.

“I figured it out when I caught Fyodor following Albatross home, taunting him, shouting the most nasty sh*t I'd ever heard in his direction,” he continues. He hates this part. “And Albatross was just taking it. He wasn't looking up, wasn't paying attention, was just staring at the ground with empty eyes while Fyodor ran around him and tried tripping him up and sh*t. And I just - I freaked the f*ck out, I ran over and I pushed Fyodor over and I ran all the way back to Albatross's place with him. Just left the guy on the ground, didn't say a word to him. I was too scared to. I didn't understand what was going on.”

He sighs darkly, staring at his knees. “Turns out Fyodor had been bullying Albatross for pretty much the entire year, every time I was out of earshot. And Albatross - Albatross hadn't told me because he didn't want to ruin the one friendship I had outside of himself with his own problems. And I felt so terrible, knowing this had been going on behind my back all that time. I mean, I was - I was nine years old. What was I even supposed to do?”

He's silent then, lost in memories, until Dazai speaks up. “So what did you do?”

Chuuya comes back to himself and shakes his head, ridding himself of unnecessary thoughts. “I stopped hanging out with Fyodor, of course. I made sure Albatross was ok and I made him promise that he'd tell me if anything like that ever happened again, and then we were fine. Fyodor transferred schools not long after.” He sighs. “But then, of course, he came back in high school with Gogol and the others, and that was that. Albatross still freaks out whenever he tries to interact with us. Which I suppose is understandable.”

Dazai hums, nibbling at his thumb. “Yeah,” he says. “Jesus. This guy sounds like the absolute worst.”

Chuuya nods gravely. “The worst part of the whole situation is,” he continues. “Albatross still hasn't fully told me everything that Fyodor did to him during that time. He says he has, but he's lying. And it upsets me, knowing that he's still trying to protect me from that knowledge because he knows I'll feel guilty about it.”

He picks at the bedsheets absently, chest tight and heavy. Dazai lets out another hum, this one lower than before, showing that he's listening.

“That's a really sh*tty situation for a little kid to have been in,” he says. He turns around to come and sit on the opposite end of the bed, crossing one leg over the other. “Did you ever get any adults involved?”

Chuuya shakes his head. “Albatross's mother worries too hard. She would have pulled him out of school, or worse, tried to fight against Fyodor's parents. Even as little kids, we knew that was a bad idea.” He twists around to face Dazai, even though the other boy isn't looking directly at him, putting his legs in a basket in front of him. “My parents - weren't an option either, unfortunately.”

Dazai doesn't ask more about that. “What about your older brother?” he tries. “Or Ozaki? Does she know?”

Chuuya hesitates. They're heading into dangerous territory, now, discussing Paul and his parents. He doesn't enjoy talking about this. “Paul was - Paul was strange. He wouldn't have been any help. And Ozaki was only fourteen at the time, and she'd just been diagnosed with BPD, and she had enough on her plate. She didn't need to be involved.”

He swallows, feeling as though something is stuck in his throat. “It's ok,” he says, half to Dazai and half only to himself. “There would never have been anything we could have done anyway. And it's - well, it's ok. Albatross goes to therapy. He's ok.”

It's rather silent for a moment, too silent.

“You can't blame yourself,” Dazai says. His back is still to him. “You were nine. You didn't know.”

“Yeah,” Chuuya replies. “Yeah.”

Finally, Dazai turns around to face Chuuya and mimics his pose, crossing his legs together so their knees brush against each others. “If I may ask one more question,” he says, leaning back on his hands. “What was with the joke about you being on fire?”

Chuuya groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Argh… Fyodor invited me to his ninth birthday party and I accidentally dropped a candle and set my pant leg on fire.”

Dazai lets out a gasp of laughter. “No way that's true. Absolutely no way.”

“It is,” Chuuya insists, giggling behind his hand. “It was so bad, the sprinklers went off and we all had to evacuate while we waited for the fire department. Everybody was so mad because their party outfits had all been ruined. Looking back, it's actually really funny. At the time, though, I was crying so hard. Half my pant leg was gone.”

Dazai is cackling, head thrown back so far he's nearly tipping backwards off the bed. “Ahahaha! That's so funny, oh my god, I wish I could have been there! Chuuya, next birthday party you go to, invite me along, will you? I have the funniest thing ever that I want to do.”

“Hell f*cking no,” Chuuya shoots back, but he's grinning. “You're the worst. Ok, everything aside, Ozaki's left me some frozen meals downstairs. Do you wanna come decide on something and we can sit in the living room and play something on the Xbox? I've got everything on there. We could play Call of Duty.”

Dazai pretends to consider, tapping his lip. “Do you have Fortnite?”

“We're not playing Fortnite,” Chuuya says with finality. He spins around and gets to his feet. “Come on, now, I'm bored and I want to play something. Discussing Fyodor always give me the urge to shoot some guy in a video game.”

For a moment, Dazai hesitates, thrown by the change in conversation topic. “Is that dog going to be down there?”

Chuuya blinks. He'd forgotten about Arahabaki. “Yeah, but I'll - I'll keep her away from you, if you want. You don't have to go near her.”

Dazai's still, and then he nods, standing slowly and stretching so his bones crack. “That sounds alright, then. I don't need to get my nice, good clothes covered in fur.”

And he knows damn well that that's not why Dazai doesn't want to be around Arahabaki - Chuuya remembers his reaction to the pup the first time he'd seen her - but he doesn't press, because Dazai hadn't pressed when he'd been talking about Fyodor and his parents and there's nothing particularly wrong with keeping certain things secret. God knows Chuuya does. Dazai's still mostly a stranger, after all, an irritating, smug, loudmouth stranger. He doesn't need to know absolutely everything.

They head downstairs, Dazai thump-thump-thumping down each step. “Ah, Chuuya, do you think I could slide down the bannister?” he asks, a grin in his voice. “It'd maybe hurt when I got to the wooden bulb bit on the bottom, but I think it'd be fun. I bet you've done that, Chuuya, haven't you - Chuuya?”

Chuuya's stopped midway down the steps. That photo - that same photo as the last few times. It's looking at him, watching him as he goes. The hairs stand up at the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” he says, forcing himself to tear his gaze away. “Yeah, what, huh? What's up, sorry?”

Dazai's looking at him oddly. He's frowning, eyebrows furrowed, and then he's casting his gaze back to that photo. Chuuya's family smile back, little Chuuya's and Albatross's gap-toothed grins wide, Paul's hands on Chuuya's shoulders and a warm glint in his eyes.

“Can I ask something else?” Dazai voices, and doesn't wait for a reply. “How'd they die?”

Chuuya figured he'd ask eventually. “Car crash,” he says simply. “They were taking Paul shopping. Me and Ozaki didn't - didn't want to go. We had things we wanted to do at home. But Paul was always such a suck up. Such a suck up that… he left us alone, that total asshole.”

He breathes out, suddenly a little embarrassed by how spiteful he'd sounded speaking those words. “Sorry. That was cruel.”

He's not sure who exactly he's talking to when he says that.

“It's ok,” Dazai says. His eyes are wide and sincere. “I'm angry at Odasaku all the time. I spend most of my time angry at him, actually. I think that's normal.”

They lock eyes at the same time, and for a moment, it feels like something passes between them.

“How do you deal with it?” Dazai asks quietly. He sounds significantly more subdued than before. “Being angry.”

Chuuya snorts, glancing down at his socks against the plush carpet. “I don't, really. I just - get angry, and then I sit in it, and then it goes away. Eventually, after a while. I don't know if that's what you're supposed to do, but I suppose it's better than compartmentalizing everything.”

“”Compartmentalizing,”” Dazai repeats, smirking slightly. “Huge word.”

“Yeah,” Chuuya replies with a nonchalant shrug. “They make you go to therapy after a family member dies when you're a kid. You learn some new stuff in there.”

He glances over the side of the staircase, at the living room below. He used to be small enough that he couldn't peer over, that he had to poke his face through the slats to see his family gathered underneath him, watching TV, playing some board game, talking quietly. His mother used to sit on that chair, the one Ozaki always sits in, and sew, read the paper when it came through the door. His father used to sit over there, listening to the radio like an old man, commentating on the news in a gruff voice. Paul used to curl up at his feet with a book or, more often, his DS. He liked the Sonic games. He completed them over and over, wiping his saves and starting again, getting faster and better. He wanted to be a speedrunner. Their mother told him he should buck up and become a lawyer instead, like his parents.

“Sorry my advice is sh*t,” Chuuya murmurs.

“It's ok,” Dazai replies. “Which Call of Duty games do you have? I like Black Ops best. I was insane at that game a few years ago, I wanna see if I've retained any skill whatsoever.”

A smile finally breaks Chuuya's face, the heaviness in his stomach slowly dissipating.

“Well,” he says, “let's find out, yeah?”

The evening passes quickly, likely because Chuuya, for the first time in a while, is really enjoying himself.

Playing video games with Dazai is actually fun. Yes, he's pretty sure Dazai's messing with the controllers or something, because he definitely doesn't remember being so bad at this game the last time him and Albatross had played it. Yes, Dazai is utterly insufferable each time he wins. But it's a change of routine, something Chuuya desperately needed. In fact, maybe Dazai's presence in general was what Chuuya needed all along. Maybe all he needed was a fresh start.

Chuuya loves his friends to death. But when he's at school, when he's hanging out with them outside of it, he can't help but constantly feel a little disconnected.

It's not their fault. It's Chuuya's. He knows he's not like the rest of them.

Dazai, however - Dazai feels closer to being like Chuuya than anyone else ever has, and it makes Chuuya feel so free. So normal. So human.

A little while into playing games, they stick a pizza in the oven and split it between the two of them, neither boy really feeling any of the microwave meals that were left. Greasy fingers punch buttons on controllers, cheese dripping down their chins as they laugh, shouting insults at each other over the sound of gunfire. And it's normal. Really normal. Chuuya hasn't felt this normal around anybody since Paul and his parents left him.

It's just - so nice to be around somebody who doesn't know everything that's wrong with him. Even if it's Dazai.

A few hours later, Ozaki texts him to let him know she's coming home, so he turns the TV off and takes Dazai back upstairs, resolutely ignoring the photos on the wall. Both of them are still smiling, pink in the face from all the shouting and laughing they'd been doing. Dazai flops down at the desk, and Chuuya is breathless for no reason, just observing the boy in his space with the wonderment that a child reserves for Santa Claus or storybook fairies. He suddenly feels wide awake.

“Hey,” he starts to ask. “Are you good for me to go to Albatross's house for a bit this weekend? Just to hang out, you know.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dazai says, furrowing his eyebrows with a snort. “Actually, no, Chuuya, you can't go to Albatross's house. I've decreed it to be so.”

“f*ck off,” Chuuya laughs, throwing a piece of crumpled paper from his bedside table at him. “I was just asking because if I'm not here, you probably won't be able to be either, unless Zaki’s out this weekend. dickhe*d.”

“Ah, that's fine,” Dazai says, waving him off. “I've got places I can hang out and get free wifi. Just text me when I can come back and I'll be fine.”

Chuuya looks at him with interest, remembering something from earlier. “By the way, do you really not have a phone number or were you joking?”

“I don't,” Dazai admits. He spins around in his chair. “Sorry to disappoint. You have my Instagram for a reason, anyway, you don't need to text me directly.”

“Instagram sucks,” Chuuya says. “I hate it.”

He flops down on his bed. He needs to get changed, of course, pee and brush his teeth and make sure he has his clothes ready for tomorrow, but he just feels too tired to do all of that right now. Just a few minutes, then he will. And he wants to say hi to Ozaki when she gets in.

He hears Dazai setting up his bed, leaving the room to get changed, coming back and lying down. Eventually, Chuuya hauls himself up and does the same, when he hears the front door open and Ozaki come through to the living room.

She looks warm, face pink and arms heavy with bags. Chuuya wonders what she was doing. “Hi,” he says to her, peering down at her over the staircase. Hazel eyes snap up to meet with his.

“Hi,” she says. “Doing good?”

“Yeah,” Chuuya says. “Had pizza for dinner.”

“Great,” Ozaki replies. Her hair is mussed, and there is a lipstick stain on her cheek. “That's great.”

Chuuya heads to bed and waits for sleep to take him in silence.

Albatross is back to normal when Chuuya next sees him, at the school gates before the morning bell rings. He's as chatty as ever, discussing things for them to do when he comes around at the weekend. Apparently, his mom's baking a ton for a friend's birthday party and, if they're really nice and suck up just enough, they might be able to get their hands on some freshly baked goods. This sounds like a plan to Chuuya. Albatross's mother is a wonderful baker.

The couple following days are a bit of a blur, just because there's so little happening and even the original thrill of hiding Dazai from Ozaki has worn off. It's not like it's really all that difficult - Chuuya's sister is out of the house a lot of the time at college or with her girlfriend, but mostly the former, and she never comes in Chuuya's room without permission. Not only that, but she's been distant as of late. Or maybe she has been for a long time. Chuuya can't be angry, though. He knows he's just the same.

On Saturday, however, he wakes up feeling different, light. Himself and Dazai had spent the night prior playing Mario Kart on Chuuya's Switch, and while they'd had to be quiet, it had been a kind of childish fun that Chuuya doesn't often let himself experience. The knowledge that he's also going to Albatross's today just makes him feel that much better.

Dazai declines breakfast and climbs down the pipe as usual, waving off Chuuya's concerns and claiming that he'll find a cafe to sit in. For once, Chuuya isn't inclined to argue. He's been really excited to see Albatross's family again, even though it hasn't really been that long, it just feels like it. He's practically bouncing off the walls by the time he's dressed and downstairs, dropping bread in the toaster and hunting for jam in the fridge while Ozaki watches his enthusiasm from the kitchen table with suspicious curiosity.

“You're awfully cheery today,” she says with narrowed eyes, lifting her cup to her lips. Ozaki has a tea set for every day of the week. Her Saturday one is pink and gold, exquisite coils and loops painted neatly on pale china. “Are you going out?”

Chuuya hums in response, his lips twitching at just the thought. “Yep. Going to Albatross's.”

“Oh,” he hears her say, a pleasant note of surprise in her voice. “Well, say hi to Jun for me. It's been forever since I've seen her.”

He doesn't reply, too busy unscrewing the lid of the jam and desperately trying not to remember how close his and Albatross's family had used to be, a few years ago. He doesn't need reminding of the reasons as to why things are different. It'll only make him miserable.

But Ozaki keeps speaking. “We should invite her and the girls over sometime, don't you think? Mizuki used to like my tea parties, although I'm certain we're both too old for those now. Perhaps Kiko would enjoy it. How old is she, ten, eleven?”

“Ten,” Chuuya murmurs. “Her birthday was last month.”

“So it was,” Ozaki says, nodding slowly. The teaspoon clinks against the cup as she spins it around the steaming orange liquid. “She was so little last time I saw her. I remember when you and Albatross were that small. I threw you guys tea parties too, do you remember?”

His lips twitch, but he doesn't turn around. “Yeah. Except you made Tross hot chocolate because -”

“I couldn't find him a tea he liked,” Ozaki finishes, a small laugh leaving her lips. “That was terrible. Hey, I can always try again. Tell Albatross he should come around sometime and I'll make him some good tea, yeah? He's always welcome here, I hope he remembers.”

Chuuya bobs his head, spreading jam across his toast with unnecessary precision. His face feels warm. “Yeah, Zaki, he knows. I make sure he knows.”

When he finally turns around with his plate, he sees a small look of disappointment cross Ozaki's face. “Is that all you're having?” she asks, disapproving. “Toast?”

“Yes, Zaki,” Chuuya drawls, sitting down at the table. “I'm not hungry.”

He feels her gaze on him. “You never seem to be hungry lately.”

Chuuya just shrugs and takes a large bite so he doesn't have to answer any more questions.

They finish eating in silence. Ozaki tries a few more times to make conversation, casual small talk that used to spawn hours of conversation between the two of them when they were supposed to be leaving for school or, at the weekends, jujutsu and violin classes. These days, there's not much of that. Maybe Chuuya's been the problem between them all along.

He ruffles Arahabaki's fur before he gets up to leave from where's she's wandered in and flopped down under the table at his feet. “Good girl,” he tells her. “Good, good girl. You look after Ozaki for me today, alright?”

He looks up at his sister's face when he says that, and it's like a peace offering. His way of saying - I'm sorry I've been distant, but I do still love you. It's just scary to say aloud.

And she smiles as if she understands. “Baki’s such a good guard dog,” she jokes, dragging her finger along the rim of her cup. “I trust that if someone broke in, she'd jump up on their legs and then waddle away for a nap if they didn't feed her. I feel so protected in her presence, Chuuya, you needn't worry about me.”

Her way of telling him that she heard his words, and echoes the same sentiment herself. The two of them really should just talk sometime. Maybe tonight, he'll sit down and try and have a conversation, just him and her, to try and recreate the days when they were closer.

That's a comforting thought. So Chuuya makes the decision: tonight, I'll sit Ozaki down and have a conversation with her about how I've been feeling lately, and maybe we'll be able to be normal like we used to.

He heads out the door and begins the walk to Albatross's with that firm declaration fresh on his mind, making him lighter.

His and Albatross's families have always lived quite close, one of the biggest reasons as to why they've managed to be good friends for so long. So it's only about five minutes before he's at the doorway of his friend's house, knocking at the peeling red paint of the front door. The bell’s been broken for as long as he can remember. They used to have a custom sign, one that read BELL DOESN'T WORK, JUST KNOCK. Some teenagers stole it a few years back and threw it on the rooftop of the house.

Chuuya gets agitated after a minute without anyone coming, but just as he's about to knock again he hears shouting from behind the door. “Kiko! Did you get the door?”

“No!” comes the shrieked reply. That's Kiko, alright, Albatross's younger sister and absolute pest, which Chuuya says with love. He snickers hearing her voice. “I'm playing Roblox and I just got the chance to be the killer after, like, ten rounds!”

“I was peeing! I don't ask you to do much, you know!”

There's a few thumps that signify Albatross is jumping down the steps two at a time before the door swings open to reveal his face flushed behind his glasses, his undone blonde hair making a rare appearance and spiraling around his shoulders. “Hi,” he deadpans. “Lovely weather we're having.”

“Lovely weather indeed,” Chuuya says with a smirk as he steps inside, kicking off his shoes and sliding on a pair of guest slippers. Well, not really guest slippers - they're his, technically, he's here enough that they basically belong to him. “How was your piss?”

“It was a fantastic piss, thank you very much,” Albatross announces. He's still half in pajamas, tartan bottoms on underneath a yellow Portal t-shirt. “How about you, had any good pisses lately?”

“Gro-oss, talking about your piss like a freak,” comes the voice of Kiko, who's just come around the corner from the living room into the hall. She's wearing a pink nightgown with a unicorn pattern, and giant purple slippers that definitely don't belong to her. Black hair is tied up at the back of her head with a crocodile claw clip. She lights up when she sees Chuuya, grinning with gappy teeth. “Hi, Chuuya, hi! I've missed you!”

“What happened to your oh-so important Roblox game?” Albatross says with a sarcastic eye roll.

Kiko throws a hand on her hips and mimics the gesture, so ridiculous it makes Chuuya laugh. “I got kicked because the wifi is literally terrible in the living room. Trossy, can I use your PC -”

“No,” Albatross says decisively, swatting at his sister's face as he passes by towards his bedroom at the end of the hall. “Me and Chuuya are gonna be on it, probably. Also, I don't have Roblox on my PC anymore. I uninstalled it so I could get the Minecraft update. Hey, quit whining, it's my PC, you know!”

Such a siblings-typical conversation that it feels achingly familiar to Chuuya. He used to be like that with Ozaki, always pestering her to let him use her DS or her Switch or anything else she might have had in her hands at the time. He thinks there can't be a set of siblings in the world that aren't like that. “Hey, maybe if you're nice to Tross, he'll let you play Minecraft later,” Chuuya says to the girl's pouting face. “Like he said, there was just that new update.”

“I wanna play Roblox,” Kiko moans. “I want to get a chance to be the killer.”

“Where's Mizuki?” Chuuya suddenly asks. He's just noticed her bedroom door is cracked open, and she'd certainly have ran out to see him if she heard his voice. “Is she out?”

“With her friends,” Kiko says with a dramatic sigh. She slumps against the wall, drumming her fingers along it. “They're seeing the new Miles Morales movie. I wanted to come too, but apparently I'm a loser, just ‘cause I'm younger. She's a huge meanie. I'm not talking to her anymore.”

Kiko and Albatross's older sister by six years, Mizuki, are always getting into arguments like this. Chuuya's very used to the dynamic of their household. He does wish Mizuki could have been around, so he could say hi. Her and Ozaki used to be friends. Unfortunately, that relationship hadn't been as long lasting as his and Albatross's had been.

He feels a little sympathy for the younger girl, remembering what it was like to be scorned just for the crime of being the youngest. “Hey, Kiko, how about this,” he says, trying not to sound condescending. Kiko enjoys acting older than she is, and being treated that way too, mostly. When it suits her. “We'll play with you later if you leave us to hang out on our own for a bit, ok?”

She instantly grins, little fists curling up and pumping up and down. “Yes! I'd love that! Chuuya, you should be my brother instead of Albatross. I like you way more.”

“Hey!” Albatross barks as the girl darts back down the hall to the living room. “I let you steal my tamagoyaki this morning, brat, and don't you forget it!”

The kitchen door swings open, and Chuuya's heart leaps at the familiar voice. “Is that Chuuya? Albatross, is Chuuya here?”

“Jun,” Chuuya greets warmly as Albatross's mother emerges from the kitchen and comes down the hall to wrap him in her arms, warm and tight. Jun, dark haired and already wrinkled at her younger age, is one of Chuuya's favourite people in the whole world. She smells like chocolate and cinnamon even when she's not baking and she always has a sweet treat to offer him when he comes around. Her presence was a lifesaver for both himself and Ozaki, when everything happened a few years ago. Just a couple weeks without seeing her has made hugging her now feel like coming home.

“Ah, darling, I missed you,” she croons against Chuuya's neck. She's unfortunately rather tall, and has to bend down to do this, but she doesn't seem to mind. “Trossy told me you've been busy as of late. Have you gotten a job yet, is that why? Or have you got a competition on?”

“Neither,” Chuuya chuckles, clapping his hands together at his thighs. “Ozaki's told me not to job hunt just yet, and I -” He doesn't want to tell her that he doesn't really go to his jujutsu class anymore. “We've not had any competition announcements for a while. I've just been - doing stuff. Making sure I'm ready for my next year of school.”

She pulls away (and Chuuya would never admit how he tries to follow her, to keep her holding him) and chuckles, ruffling his hair so it catches out from his ponytail. “Well, that's good. That's very good. Do let me know if your class ends up in any competitions though, ok? I'd be more than delighted to go, and I know Kiko and Mizuki would too. Mizuki’s at the cinema, by the way, but I'll tell her you said hi.”

“Mom,” Albatross whines, grabbing at Chuuya's hand to intertwine their fingers. “We're going to my room now, so leave Chuuya be! Oh, but can we have some of the cookies you're making?” He grins wickedly. “We have to taste test in case they're bad, otherwise your reputation will be ruined!”

Jun throws her head back, her laugh loud and cheerful, practically echoing off the walls. She could fill rooms with her laugh. “Ok, ok, but only one for you, Trossy, I know what you're like. If Chuuya likes, however, he can have two - because he hasn't been around in so long, Albatross, don't you complain! Now shoo, you two, I have to go out to the shops and get caster sugar before my icing sets!”

They head to the kitchen, both giggling softly, and take cookies off the cooling racks where Jun had left them. They hear Jun shouting to Kiko that she's going out, and then the front door clicking as she exits. At the sound, Albatross cheekily grabs another cookie, blowing air out of his cheeks so it cools enough to touch. “She'll never notice,” he says, sticking his tongue out through his teeth. “Let's go, hurry, before Kiko notices and tries to tattle on me to Mom when she comes back.”

Albatross's bedroom is, subjectively, much nicer than Chuuya's. Blue walls covered in silver star stickers, a large double bed with plenty of space even though it creaks and groans when you lay on it, a darkwood desk and an old PC that's hooked up to a monitor Lippmann had given him when he got his new one. There are bundles of stuffed animals all over the room, making it seem rather childish, but Chuuya knows each plushie is terribly important to Albatross and would definitely never make fun of him for it. In fact, he's sure he bought the boy a bunch of them in the past. There's so many that he can't even remember which ones.

“Sorry about her pestering you,” Albatross says, sidling inside and dragging his hand along the desk before he flops onto the bed. “I don't think she knows you don't go to your jujutsu classes anymore. Although I definitely think you still should, not that my input on that matters.”

“You are correct,” Chuuya says, pointing at him accusingly. “It does not. Go to lessons yourself if you want so badly. You've had enough time sitting in the sidelines watching me to know how sh*t gets done.”

Albatross shudders. “I'm literally the pathetic, glasses wearing nerd stereotype, Chuuya. They'd eat me alive. You know damn well I'm not athletic.”

Chuuya laughs and drops into Albatross's gaming chair, a secondhand Christmas gift from a few years ago. “Yeah, if we were, like, secret agents or something, you'd be my guy in the chair. Or my getaway driver.”

“Definitely the getaway driver,” Albatross agrees. “The second I turn sixteen, I'm making Iceman teach me.”

“I know,” Chuuya says. “You've told me a thousand times. Funnily enough, I don't once recall hearing Iceman agree to this.”

Albatross shrugs and leans back on his hands, cookie crumbs falling from his mouth. “He will. I'm his favourite. Say, Chuuya, which game do u wanna finish while you're here today? It Takes Two, Detroit: Become Human, Metal Gear, or do you wanna just play PUBG and shoot some bots? I'm personally down for shooting bots. I don't think my brain can handle anything that's puzzle-y. Or a bad metaphor for racism.”

“Well, just say you want to play PUBG then, dick,” Chuuya says, but he's already scooting forwards to plug in a controller. “Can we play Phasmo later?”

“Chuu-ya,” Albatross groans. “You know I'm a puss*.”

“Yeah, well, get over it and hunt ghosts with me, f*cker!”

It doesn't take them long to get into the swing of things. Chuuya and Albatross's friendship is such that they could stop speaking to each other for six months and still, minutes after interacting again, they would be the exact same as always. So within minutes, they're lost in the game, a situation so familiar Chuuya could do it in his sleep. Really, on paper, all that's changed since they last did this was the arrival of Dazai in their lives. And that doesn't affect them here, in Albatross's cute little bedroom. All that is outside stuff.

He does wonder where Dazai is now, but it's not important. Chuuya doesn't need to stress about that now on top of everything else.

“Hey,” Albatross suddenly says. He's looting some guy's body, rifling around for ammo while Chuuya keeps watch. “How's, uh, your History essay coming along?”

Chuuya swallows, avoiding Albatross's eyes. “It's going good. Hey, watch out, on your left. He's got a sniper.”

Albatross dives behind a building, but despite the small distraction, Chuuya can still feel him looking at him. “Is it really going good or are you talking sh*t?”

Chuuya fires his SLR and hits their attacker square in the head. However, he can't even celebrate, now that they're having actual conversation. How annoying. “I'm talking sh*t,” he admits, leaning back further into the chair. His legs are pulled up to his chest, controller resting on his knees. “I've been meaning to submit it for days, but it's not going well. Neither is my Literature one. f*ckuzawa-sensei is going to have my head.”

“Well, he won't have your head, per se,” Albatross says, a grim note in his voice. “You'll just fail your classes. Why haven't you told Ozaki yet?”

“I told you,” Chuuya says. “I don't need her hiring another tutor for me. It's embarrassing. I'm good at the important stuff, which is really all that matters. Like, I'm good at maths and physics. Isn't that the stuff that people want you to be good at? That's the kind of stuff employers look for, you know? They're not gonna care if I have a Japanese History or Literature grade, no offense to Lippmann, who I love dearly and don't wish to offend.”

“Telling Lippmann you said that through our telepathic connection as we speak,” Albatross informs him. Their two avatars start making their way across the path, sufficiently stocked up on loot and making their way towards the safe zone. “Anyway, I'm just asking ‘cause if you need any help with it, I'm willing to put some time in. I'm probably better at both subjects than you are.”

“Like hell,” Chuuya says, shooting Albatross a look. “You hate reading. You bullsh*t it every year. And I don't need your help with schoolwork, ok? I'm the older one out of the two of us. I should be looking after you.”

Albatross snorts, shifting forwards so they're closer together. “You're three and a half months older than me. Don't try and act like you're a big man and I'm just a little baby. You know I'm not trying to be condescending, right?”

“Of course I do,” Chuuya says, softening slightly. He's too close to the edge lately, too willing to start a fight over nothing. “Neither am I. I just - I wanna do this stuff by myself. I'm not helpless.”

“I know you're not,” Albatross says. “Man, I know best of all that you're not. Remember when you kicked the sh*t out of Tetchou Suehiro for being mean to me?”

A flash of embarrassment goes through him, but Chuuya sheepishly grins regardless. “Point proven. I'd do that again, by the way, any day.”

“That's sweet,” Albatross replies, amused, “but you shouldn't. You'll get expelled. That's why Fyodor won't leave you alone.”

Chuuya jolts, nearly dropping the controller. He hadn't expected his friend to bring up Fyodor unprompted.

“Yeah,” is all he says. “Yeah, I know.”

They play in silence for a few minutes, taking out other duos and hiding out in the safe zone, waiting for the win. It's too easy. Way too easy. Chuuya can't believe they're really going to win, first game.

“How's Dazai been?” Albatross asks, and Chuuya jumps again. He's been too damn jumpy lately.

“Alright,” he replies tentatively. “I mean, as well as he can be.”

There's a pause, while Albatross's avatar wiggles across the floor. “You still don't know what you're going to do about him, do you?”

Chuuya hesitates.

“As I've said,” he mumbles, bringing a fist to rest against his mouth. “It's a difficult scenario.”

Outside of the room, Chuuya hears a loud noise start up, music and someone speaking. Kiko must have gotten bored of Roblox and started up a Youtube video. The volume is really loud. Albatross will probably get sick of it pretty quickly and make her turn it down, so he ignores it for now.

From the bed, Albatross shuffles, restless. “Um… how have you and Zaki been?”

Something cold coils in Chuuya's stomach, and he turns around to meet Albatross eyes. “Man, what the hell are you asking all this sh*t for, huh?”

Albatross is unfazed by the annoyance in his voice. “You seem stressed, and I'm your friend. I should be asking you stuff like this more often. Especially considering what time of year it is.”

Chuuya grits his teeth. “Well, don't. We aren't emotional people, so save it. Leave it to Lippmann to pester me about my feelings.”

“Yeah, well,” Albatross says smoothly. “You don't honestly answer Lippmann when he interrogates you about your well being. Or anyone else, for that matter. I'd be willing to bet that you even lie to Dr. Page.”

“Omitting a truth isn't lying,” Chuuya says without missing a beat, like he's reciting a mantra. Maybe he is. It only feels correct to say.

Albatross seems to pick up on that, and is silent, watching Chuuya stew. The sounds of gunfire echo from outside their shelter. Kiko’s video rings in his ears, some annoying Youtuber voice pitched ridiculously high for a child's ears.

“It's not,” he continues, squirming in his seat. “Genuinely, it's not. And I'm not lying anyway, or anything like that, so it doesn't matter. Ozaki made me promise to be honest with Dr. Page, so I am. Tross, I'd tell you if something was wrong with me.”

“There's lots wrong with you,” Albatross says in a mildly teasing tone. “I already know it all, no need to tell me.”

Chuuya snorts. “Don't know what you're talking about. I'm perfectly normal.”

“I know,” Albatross says, and reaches out to kick Chuuya's chair, causing him to spin slightly. “I… don't want you to stress yourself out too much, ok, big man? I know you will if someone doesn't look after you. That's why I'm pestering you. It's ok for us to have serious conversations every now and again. I promise it doesn't make you any less manly.”

“f*ck off,” Chuuya says, snickering and drumming his fingers along the buttons. “I know it doesn't. Just trust me when I say I'm doing good, yeah? Stop talking about me. Let's talk about you instead. Let's psychoanalyze you instead, Tross.”

Albatross punches the sky and lets out a dramatic keening sound. “Ah, if you insist… it all started on the day I was born…”

They both laugh, relieved that the difficult conversation seemed to be over. Chuuya's even just about to make a joke pertaining to this when Albatross says one final thing. “Ok, but honestly, don't worry so much about Dazai, Chuuya. Things always work out for good people, and you're one of the best that I know.”

And that's - that's what stops him. That simple sentence. Things always work out for good people.

He doesn't agree with that sentiment. Chuuya knows plenty of people who are good, far more good than he could ever be, who have lost important things in their lives, who have suffered far more than someone like them should ever have to. Albatross is one of those people. Ozaki, too. Ozaki's life was ruined when she had to take care of Chuuya at only eighteen years old. How will things work out for her? They won't, not unless Chuuya dies or moves out sometime soon.

In his mind is a young boy, a smiling, ginger boy clutching a cat, and an Instagram comment section full of well wishes and tearfully written send-offs. He had to have been Dazai's age or younger. Too young to really be a bad person. Too young to deserve what happened to him.

Had he not been good enough for things to work out for him, if that's the sentiment Albatross is going with?

And if Dazai insists that he's a bad person, and Chuuya knows that he himself is, then what does that mean for them?

Albatross would surely tell Chuuya that he was wrong, if he voiced these concerns. Tell him that he is good, that he is deserving. But Albatross doesn't know everything that Chuuya does. Albatross will never fully understand the kind of person Chuuya is. No one could. What a terrible thing it would be, to understand Nakahara Chuuya. He imagines that would be nothing but a curse.

Guilt hits him so hard he feels faint. You're one of the best that I know.

A sudden round of gunfire sounds in Chuuya's ears, and he's too stricken to do anything but watch as his avatar drops down to the ground, the words BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME! appearing in bold font in the corner. From where he fell, he can see the duo that had shot him stepping over his body to kill Albatross, too, one stopping to loot his body and take his medkits and good weapons. A lot of good they did him, in the end.

Behind him, Albatross wails loudly, throwing his arms up in the air. “Chuuya, my man, my main man! You were supposed to be lookout, were you not even paying attention? What the hell? Did you get bad at this game in the two and a half weeks since we last played it?”

Chuuya just barely manages to open his mouth, lips so dry he feels his skin tear and bloom with blood as he does so. “Couldn't - couldn't let us just win first round, man,” he says, trying to sound as jokey and blase as he can. “We need more of a challenge than that.”

Thankfully for Chuuya, at that moment, he hears the front door swing open, keys jingling, and Kiko rushing from the living room shouting “Mom! Mom!” This provides a sufficient distraction, enough so that Albatross gets to his feet and stretches, staring at the death screen with amused disdain.

“I suppose you've got a point,” he says ruefully. “We gotta make the other teams think we're not a threat, and then we'll strike, we'll get ‘em good. Alright, it sounds like my mom has a ton of bags and she's also been gone for way longer than she said she would be, so I take it she's got a lot of shopping that she'll need help putting away.” He steps over the cord for Chuuya's controller, doing a silly little twirl that ordinarily would make him laugh, but doesn't now. “Set up another game for us, Chuuya, will you? I'll be back in a few.”

He isn't even given a chance to respond before Albatross is simply gone. He hears him talking to his mother in the hall, Kiko’s voice mixing in with the other two, all blending into one noise. Chuuya - Chuuya feels so dizzy all of a sudden. It's probably just the noise giving him a headache. Albatross has sound canceling headphones on the post of his bed, but Chuuya doesn't want to touch them without permission.

Breathing shakily, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone for the first time since he arrived here. He'd really just forgotten to. The only messages he's received are from the Flags group chat - Lippmann sending some photos he took, Iceman popping in to compliment them, and Piano Man making a joke about seeing Albatross and Chuuya online playing PUBG. Are the legendary players back to take down the new season all by themselves?

It's stupid. Chuuya and Albatross aren't even good at PUBG. It was just a pure coincidence that they'd nearly won this round.

And Chuuya had ruined it, of course. But that's not what he's freaking out about, is it? What is he freaking out about? Is he even freaking out at all? What the hell is his problem all of a sudden?

He can hear Paul's voice in his mind, all of a sudden. Breathe. Inhale for two, exhale for four, and if you feel faint, put your head between your legs and alert an adult, ok, little man?

It's been a while since Chuuya's heard Paul's voice with such clarity. It makes his head spin further, and then suddenly he's pitching forward and nearly falling off his chair. He feels as if something is rapping on his skull behind his eyes, so hard that when he brings his hand to his face he can practically feel it. But his hands, his cheeks, are suddenly numb and buzzing unpleasantly, and he can't hold onto himself without the sensation doubling and bringing bile from his stomach up his throat.

Ok, so this is happening. This is actually happening. But Chuuya can get it under control - Chuuya always gets himself under control. Nobody ever sees Chuuya fall apart until he's reached the peak of his struggle, and he doesn't think he's quite there yet. Not that there's a struggle in the first place. There's nothing wrong with him.

Chuuya Nakahara is so f*cking normal. If anyone else thinks differently, they're wrong. Chuuya is always in control of himself.

Suddenly, the room door swings open again. “I got more cookies,” Albatross loudly announces, although his voice is muffled behind what Chuuya presumes is more cookies in his mouth. “Got them for being such a good boy and helping my dear mother put the shopping - Chuuya, hey, what's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Chuuya tries, but it comes out as a gasp. He tries to sit up, not even having realized that he'd sank down in the seat with his feet to the floor and his head hanging between his legs, but as he does, everything spins and suddenly he doesn't know where he is, can't keep control of his surroundings. He fumbles blindly, eyes screwed shut, and grabs at the armrests for support.

Then he feels Albatross coming up to him, dithering beside the chair, his worried gaze bearing holes into him. “Chuuya, should I - should I get my mom? I don't - Chuuya, I don't know what's set you off, did something happen when I left?”

Chuuya shakes his head and immediately regrets it, dizziness taking over his entire body and causing him to shake so hard he hears the chair rattle. He lets go of the armrests and hugs his stomach, praying the pressure will make this all go away, praying the day is still salvageable. Praying that he hasn't just ruined everything, again, by freaking out for no reason. That would be just like him. Chuuya is a person who ruins things.

“Chuuya,” he hears. “Chuuya, please say something, or I'm going to get my mom.”

He lets out a sound that crosses between a wheeze and a sob, curling further into himself so his nose touches his jeans. It's uncomfortable. He can barely breathe. f*ck, he really can barely breathe - that's nearly hysterical, when he thinks about it. A few stupid, misplaced words and Chuuya's so worked up that he's going to suffocate and die on Albatross's gaming chair.

A cough wracks his chest, harsh and painful, and he thinks that's what triggers Albatross to leap up and run to the door. Faint cries of “Mom! Mom, help, come here!” reach his ears, to wherever Chuuya is right now. He groans silently, wishing he had more hands so he could clap them over his ears and over his mouth and over his eyes so he could be completely hidden from the world and not have to see it in turn.

Paul had taught him how to handle these. Once he left, Ozaki had taught him, too. But neither of them are with him right now, talking him down, holding him. So Chuuya holds himself.

There is a faint commotion, and then there is someone before him, again. A softer presence, this time, and they're speaking to him, but Chuuya isn't comprehending.

He doesn't know how he spiraled this quickly when he was doing so well.

“Chuuya,” says the presence - Jun’s voice, gentle and soft, just like the rest of her. Chuuya nearly sobs. “Hey, sweetheart, hey, it's just me. You're having a panic attack, ok? Do you think you can breathe with me?”

He shakes his head so hard that he thinks he briefly blacks out, because when he's aware of himself again, he's slid to the floor and there are warm arms around him, Jun’s, protective and comforting, like a mother's should be. He falls into them like there's nowhere else to go.

“Chuuya,” comes her voice, so kind, so light. “You're ok, sweetheart. Should I call Ozaki to come pick you up?”

This is enough to snap Chuuya out of his silence. “No,” he sobs, shivering as he tries to push himself up, but speaking has stolen more breath from his lungs and no matter how hard he gasps, he can't get any. “No, d-don’t call my sister, please, I don't -”

“Mom,” he hears Albatross whisper urgently, and Chuuya crumples further, knowing his best friend is witnessing this weakness right now. Watching him break like this. It's so pathetic it makes his stomach stir. Chuuya is supposed to be stronger than this.

“Ok,” Jun murmurs with a soft exhale. “Ok, I won't call your sister. But can you try to breathe with me? Just like this. In, and out. In, and out.”

Chuuya tries, he really does, it's just - there's nothing in his lungs. There's black spots dancing in front of his eyes, and he's suddenly so scared of fully passing out, because what if he has to go to hospital - what will happen to Dazai, where will he go? Ozaki would have to go all the way out to the hospital to see him. She'd have to get a lift from Yosano since she doesn't have a car. All of Chuuya's other friends, the Flags and all the others, would know something was wrong with Chuuya again, and then they'd never look at him the same way, just with pity, because they'd know he was insane.

A hand runs along his back, gently gracing the fabric over his spine. “It's ok,” Jun tells him, even though it's not ok, not at all. “You're doing ok. You're doing so well, sweetheart.”

Chuuya seriously wants to die. This is so embarrassing. He doesn't want Albatross to see him like this.

It could be worse, his mind helpfully supplies. It could be Dazai.

It could. Or it could be Ozaki. He can't decide which is worse.

But even as he's thinking like this, Jun’s voice soothes him, bringing him back from the depths of his mind. She doesn't say much, she just encourages him, tells him he's doing ok, calls him a sweetheart, and Chuuya just sags, his body losing the momentum needed to keep the cycle of panic going. He's just too tired. Too tired to even cry, not that he would, because Chuuya doesn't cry. He doesn't. He won't, not if he doesn't want to.

Finally, the air returns to his lungs in one fell swoop. He gasps for it greedily, coughing hard into his sleeve as he makes yet another attempt to sit up through the waves of heavy dizziness, aware of himself enough now to feel more ashamed of his actions. But his head is too heavy, aching painfully, unable to stay straight, and he burrows himself back into Jun’s chest, shaking hard.

“Momma?” he hears, and jolts upright, because that's Kiko’s voice and she definitely shouldn't be here, seeing him in this f*cking state. But she is. She's in the doorway, worry lining her little eyebrows, and a glass of water held in both hands. She's trembling, too. Chuuya must have scared her. “Momma - for Chuuya.”

Albatross scrambles up from his kneeling position and takes it, murmuring something softly to her that Chuuya understands must be a thanks and an order to leave so as not to embarrass him further. Too late for that. Definitely too late for that.

“Thank you,” Chuuya croaks as the girl scampers away. God, and he'd promised to play with her later, too. That won't be happening today. He is just the absolute worst.

“Thank you, darling,” Jun calls after her, a quieter echo of Chuuya's words.

Now Albatross is sitting again and presenting the glass to him. He must recognize how Chuuya's hands are still shaking too hard to be able to hold it by himself, because he helps bring the rim to his lips and hold it there so he can get some water down his dry throat. Chuuya stubbornly fumbles to try and grab the glass himself, but he really shouldn't. He knows he needs help right now. But that's the worst part about this whole thing of Chuuya's. Needing help.

At least he feels a little less lightheaded. He can open his eyes fully, now, and take in his surroundings, not that he wants to. He really doesn't want to. He feels so f*cking sh*tty and he has no doubt he's ruined both his own and Albatross's day. What a dumbass he is.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles, when he can speak again.

“Don't be sorry,” Albatross says loudly, at the same time that his mother says “no, sweetheart, don't apologize for this. Don't apologize at all. You've done nothing wrong.”

All he wants to do is sink into the floor. He fumbles, and this time he finds Albatross's hand and squeezes it. His friend squeezes back. It's grounding, comforting, and he feels himself relaxing. Knowing Albatross is here for him is nice. It's nicer than it would have been if he had to suffer through that alone.

Jun and Albatross are wearing twin expressions of concern when he gains the courage to look up at them. It could make him laugh. They're so similar it's ridiculous. Chuuya was never like that with either of his parents. He never felt like he really belonged to them.

When he was younger, Chuuya used to secretly wish that Jun was his mother. Thinking like that always made him feel insanely guilty, however, so he forced all thoughts like that away and never told anybody about it.

“Sorry,” he whispers again, helpless, useless.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Albatross tells him fiercely. “You didn't do anything wrong. Don't f*cking apologize for having a panic attack.”

“Language, Albatross,” Jun reminds him, although it's in a whisper, and she's still looking at Chuuya, as if unsure of what to do. She probably is. Chuuya and Albatross are so similar yet such different people that it'd be impossible to treat them the same in emotional situations. “I'm going to get you some more water, Chuuya. I'll be back in a moment, ok?”

She gets up, leaving Chuuya longing for more contact, shivering without it, and leaves the room. Chuuya feels like the world's biggest idiot, close to tears on Albatross's bedroom floor because he misses his mommy like a baby. Everything aches. He raises his arms and hugs himself tight, not wanting to look around him anymore.

Luckily, Albatross, wonderful Albatross, his best friend in the whole world Albatross, understands what he needs and shuffles closer to throw his arms around him. Albatross, who avoids human touch on the best of days unless it's something small that he's initiating. Chuuya could cry, right here. He seriously could.

“You don't have to,” he whispers, voice wavering against his friend's neck.

“I want to,” Albatross says certainly. He sounds so calm, now. “I know what helps you feel better. I'd hug you forever if it helped.”

Chuuya is so lucky. He couldn't have asked for a better friend in the world.

Albatross's voice softens when he speaks again. “I haven't… I haven't seen you freak out like that since - for a pretty long time.”

He knows what he means. Since you lost your parents and all that insane sh*t happened with you for the months that followed.

“Sorry,” Chuuya whispers again. “I don't know what set me off. It wasn't you. I don't know what it was.”

He really doesn't. It could have been f*cking anything.

“Don't apologize,” Albatross reminds him. His breath is warm and ticklish on Chuuya's ears. “It's ok. Don't worry about anything, ok? I've got you right now.”

Chuuya sniffles. “Don't tell Ozaki,” he begs. “Please don't tell Ozaki.”

“I won't,” Albatross says immediately. “I would never. Not without your permission, I would never.”

Jun comes back into the room, looking flustered, holding a plastic cup this time for Chuuya to drink from. So it doesn't smash if he drops it, he thinks, and nearly laughs. He really does appreciate it. “Thanks,” he tells her honestly. “I'm - thank you so much for - for -”

She cuts him off, shushing him softly. “Hey, hey. No need for that. You're ok, alright, sweetheart? I promise you're ok.”

Chuuya nods shakily and takes a few sips of the water. The plastic rim of the cup is rough on his lips, and he wants to tear it away. He doesn't. He doesn't think he even could.

Dark brown eyes stare down at him, Jun examining him with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. “Do you want to spend the night here, Chuuya? I could ask Ozaki to arrange it if you'd like.”

“He can't, mom,” Albatross interrupts before Chuuya has to speak. He's tugging at his hair, twirling it around his fingers anxiously. “He's got - something on tonight, so he can't. It's ok. I'll walk him home.”

Chuuya opens his mouth, but a cough escapes him before anything else. Pain shoots through his chest. “I don't have to leave straight away,” he says quickly, holding a hand in front of his mouth. “I - I don't - I mean, it's up to - if you want me to -”

“We're not trying to kick you out, idiot,” Albatross tells him, a laugh in his voice. He's still clinging to Chuuya's hand. “You can obviously stay if you want. Do you wanna watch something instead of playing a game? I'm down for anything. You can even watch me play solo Phasmo if you want, try and guess the ghost before I do.”

That sounds nice. Watching Albatross play video games over his shoulder and backseat gaming him until he tries to punch him is a routine of theirs. And Chuuya really doesn't feel like playing anything himself right now. “Yeah,” he says, nodding slowly. “That sounds good. If you don't mind me being annoying every time you mess up.”

“That's normal for you,” Albatross smirks, and Jun chuckles, clearly relieved that the situation seems to be taken care of now. She takes the cup from Chuuya's outstretched hand, smiling down at him in a way that makes his chest clench. He still feels a little dizzy, but not as badly as before. He could probably stand up if he wanted.

So he pushes himself to his feet and props himself up on Albatross's bed, only swaying the tiniest amount as he does so. He sees his friend smile, and he tries to do the same, realizing how suddenly tired he is. He had forgotten how draining a panic attack can be. Chuuya feels as though he's been wrung out like a wet towel.

Jun dithers in the doorway, clutching the plastic cup in wrinkled hands. Her old wedding band shines dim gold against the bright yellow. “Do you need anything else just now, Chuuya, Trossy?” she asks. Clearly trying to sound like she isn't worried. He wonders if Kiko has gone back to her videos, or if she's still in the hall, waiting for her mother to come back out.

“No,” Chuuya says quietly, politely. “Thank you. Really, thank you.”

Albatross cracks a grin. “I'd like more cookies, if that's on the table?”

One thing Chuuya loves Albatross for is the way he'll make jokes to lighten the tension when he understands that it's necessary. He's so good at that. Chuuya never has been. He knows that if Albatross had just had that freak out, he wouldn't know what to do about it.

“No more cookies for you, sir,” Jun says playfully. “They're for Liza’s birthday and I think you know you've already had more than I said you could.” Then she's serious again, eyes thinning. “If you do need anything, either of you, just call and let me know, ok?”

Chuuya knows that she mostly means him when she says that. Still, he can't bring himself to care all that much. He's rather exhausted now.

Jun clicks the door shut behind her, plunging them into near silence. Chuuya can't even hear the TV in the living room anymore. He wonders if Kiko turned it down when he was panicking, and hopes that's the case, that she's still sitting in there watching Youtube and not worrying about him. She's too young for that.

Really, Chuuya doesn't need anyone worrying about him. He's usually so well put together. This was just a one off incident.

Albatross comes and sits beside him on the bed, propping himself up at the head of the bed. Without a word, Chuuya slides over and lies down so his head rests on his friend's knee. Neither of them say anything about it. They don't have to.

In fact, neither of them bring up Chuuya's panic attack at all for the rest of the day. They just stay where they are, lost in their game. Eventually, Chuuya starts talking again, teasing Albatross for dying early in the game and yelping when he gets jumpscared, and even joins in for a few rounds himself. By the time it's five pm, he could have forgotten that anything happened at all.

That is, if it weren't for Kiko in the living room when he leaves Albatross's room, poking her head out into the hallway. “Hi, Chuuya,” she says, almost timidly. “Do you feel better now?”

Hot shame boils inside of him. “Yeah,” he says, nodding too quickly for his head not to spin a little. “Yeah, I'm good, I just wasn't feeling all that well earlier. Thanks, though. Sorry I didn't play with you like I promised.”

“It's ok,” Kiko says, nodding with sparkling eyes. Her hair has mostly fallen out of her claw clip, dancing around pale shoulders. “Next time, though, you have to. I want to play Among Us with you and Trossy again, but you'll have to convince him.”

“Ugh,” Albatross groans, from the end of the hall where he's trying to tug his trainers on without undoing the laces. “I got so sick of that game when playing it became all we did during the lockdown. Can't you pick something else?”

The girl grins, the same mischievous look that Albatross often wears. So similar. “Nope. It has to be that one. Trossy, get me some liquorice from the shop while you're out, ok? I asked Mom to get me some earlier and she forgot, so you have to.”

“I'm not going to the shop!” Albatross shouts as she skips away. “Kiko! Don't be expecting anything, because I'm not going to the shop!”

Chuuya can't help but smile. He knows Albatross will definitely go to the shop on his way back. He loves his sister too much not to.

Jun sees them off. “Come back soon, Chuuya,” she tells him as they exit the front door into the warm heat of the late afternoon. “I'll make a fresh batch of swiss rolls just for you.”

She's too kind to him, Jun. She always has been. Chuuya's never deserved the love that she offers him.

They head towards Chuuya's house in silence. The sunlight burns against his orange hair, so he throws a hand in front of his eyes, trying to see better. At his side, Albatross whistles annoyingly, the theme tune to some anime Chuuya doesn't fully remember the name of.

When they reach Chuuya's door, Albatross gives no warning before he pulls him into his arms for a hug.

“You know where I am if you need me,” he tells him firmly. “For anything. Don't doubt me. I'll kill a man if you need me to do it.”

He knows. All of Chuuya's friends are like that. He knows that if they needed him, all of them would instantly be at his side, on questions asked. It just so happens to be that Albatross is the most fiercely loyal out of all of them.

“Thanks,” he mumbles against him. “I'd do the same for you.”

Albatross snickers and pulls away, firing double finger guns before he starts off again. Chuuya watches him go before he heads inside. He's suddenly so desperate to see Ozaki that it aches. He takes his sister for granted far too much. All he wants to do now is hold her and tell her just how much he loves her.

He steps inside to near silence. Arahabaki is asleep under the kitchen table, but she barely stirs upon hearing him enter, only rolling over to her other side with her tongue lolling out stupidly. Ozaki's tea set has been put neatly away in her ornate cupboard, lined up with all the others, as perfect as the woman who owns them.

There is another note on the fridge.

Going out with Akiko and some friends this afternoon, hope you don't mind. I figured you'd be at Albatross's all day so it would be fine. Don't punch anyone while I'm gone. Feed Baki. :P

Chuuya stares at the note for a long time, something cold and heavy welling up in his stomach. It's nothing he can describe. It's never anything he can describe.

But he does as his sister says and feed his dog, because he's nothing if not obedient when it's necessary.

Dazai's not upstairs, as expected. Paul is, though, staring down at him from the wall. Chuuya swears that the photo just gets more prominent with every new time he passes by it, these days. That those blue eyes just get sharper, that they can see into the depths of Chuuya's mind.

The cold disappointment and sadness in his gut replaces itself with another familiar feeling, one he far prefers. Anger stabs through his flesh from the inside, eating him alive. Chuuya and anger are very close acquaintances. He's lived side by side with it all his life.

When Ozaki comes home, much later in the evening, she finds Chuuya on the staircase.

“What are you doing?” is the first thing she says to him. He doesn't turn around to look at her, but he can hear the confusion in her tone, hears her shaking off her jumper and hanging it up on its hanger as she watches him. “Chuuya? What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he snaps, biting down on his lip so his fury doesn't leak out from inside him where it's supposed to be kept. “I'm getting rid of these f*cking photos. We've been saying we'll take them down for years and I'm seriously so sick of seeing them. They're awful. I hate looking at their stupid f*cking faces.”

Ozaki hates cursing. He expects her to reprimand him before instructing him to put the photos back up where they belong. He's half prepared for another argument. He has all the words he wants to spit written along the tip of his tongue, just waiting for their cue to fall.

What Chuuya does not expect is for Ozaki to silently make her way to the staircase and up the steps, towards the middle of it where Chuuya has two large boxes, one of which is already nearly full. She takes the full one from where it's balancing on the step behind Chuuya's leg and lifts it in her arms, all the way to the bottom landing. Then she comes up beside him again and, without a single word, takes one photo off of the wall where it hangs in a beautiful wooden frame and stares at it. It's a picture of her and their mother, from when they'd gone to see The Lion King at the Shiki Theatre Natsu in Tokyo. Ozaki, even as beautiful and poised as she consistently is, looks small and awkward against the grace of their mother. None of the three siblings could ever have lived up to her if they tried.

There is a silent longing, a grief in Ozaki's hazel eyes as she gently places the photo into the remaining box. Just as carefully as before, she starts picking more photos off the wall, paying no attention to the contents of them as if she, like Chuuya, could get lost in the ache, the missing, that looking at the brings, and putting them away.

Chuuya is stunned.

“Aren't you going to stop me?” he asks.

Ozaki smiles sadly, keeping her eyes on her task. “No,” she says simply. “Like you said, we've been talking about taking these down for forever. I suppose there's no better time than now.”

All the anger in Chuuya's chest melts away, leaving him empty. He feels like all the wind has just been knocked out of him.

Without another word, he starts working alongside her again. It only takes them a few minutes to clear the wall, with two of them on the job. With someone by Chuuya's side to keep him from sliding to the floor, losing himself in the memories.

When they're done, the both of them examine their work. The wall looks so… bare, without anything on it but nails and rectangular patches, free of dust, that show off what had been there previously. It feels so final. Like this empty wall means for certain that it really is only Chuuya and Ozaki, now. The last of the Nakahara-Kouyou bloodline.

“I'm tired,” Ozaki tells him. Her expression is strange, lighter than he's used to. Maybe she got some closure out of doing this. God knows Chuuya didn't. “Do you wanna order some pizza?”

Chuuya blinks, swallowing the lump that's built up in his throat.

“I could f*ck up a Dominos right now,” he says airily. “Can I get stuffed crust?”

Ozaki's lips twitch. “Yeah,” she says. “You can get stuffed crust.”

At about ten pm, Chuuya finds himself back in his bedroom. In all the chaos of everything, he'd really forgotten all about Dazai, and he's wondering if he's back. It'd be good if so. He left some pizza slices for him, and he's sure even Dazai, as weird about food as he is, couldn't refuse a good stuffed crust Dominos.

Dazai isn't there, however. Dazai doesn't come back that night at all.

For the first time in two weeks, Chuuya sleeps alone, restless, with one eye open and watching his window.

Chapter 5: all we are is dust

Chapter Text

When Chuuya wakes, it's because he can hear Ozaki talking downstairs.

He doesn't think anything of it. Ozaki and Yosano spend a lot of time on video calls, even early in the morning, so he hears his sister chattering away to her phone more often than not these days. He's about to go back to sleep when light footsteps travel up the stairs, and three polite knocks are laid out on his door.

“Chuu-ya,” Ozaki sings from the other side. “Dazai's here for you.”

Instantly, Chuuya is awake. He scrambles to sit up, scrubbing at his face with his hands, combing through his hair with his fingers and finally stumbling to his feet. Dazai is here. That means he's safe, thank f*cking God, and Chuuya can safely shout at him for leaving without a word last night. He's already planning what he's going to say as he throws open the bedroom door and marches past Ozaki in his bare feet, heading downstairs through the newly empty hall and to the front door in the kitchen.

Dazai is standing there, dressed in a button up and slacks as usual with a sh*t-eating grin on his face.

“Wow,” he drawls, looking Chuuya up and down. “I've never seen a slug with hair that sticks straight up before. I must say, it's quite the bold statement.”

Chuuya feels his face flush, and he flattens his hair as best he can before grabbing Dazai's hand and dragging him inside without another word. Ozaki is in the kitchen doorway, watching this exchange with interest. Her eyebrows are raised, arms crossed over her chest. She's fully dressed, of course, hair tied up and fringe falling over her eyes. Perfect as usual, just the total opposite of Chuuya himself.

“Well, good morning, Dazai,” she says, lips twitching at the corners. “It's unusual for someone to manage to get this one out of bed before one pm on a Sunday. I must commend you for that.”

Dazai snickers, holding up his free hand in a wave. “Thank you, Kouyou-san, I do my best.”

“Shut up,” Chuuya snaps at him, although he's sure the pout on his lips and the fact that he's in Scottie dog patterned pajama bottoms and a rumpled band t-shirt takes away from his menacing aura. He turns back to Ozaki with a glare. “Didn't you say you were gonna make tamagoyaki for breakfast sometime this weekend?”

Ozaki has the decency to look somewhat guilty. “I forgot to get eggs.”

Chuuya sticks his tongue out and makes to exit the room, pretending his heart isn't pounding in his chest. “That means you have to do it when we next have them. You promised. I'll hold you to it!”

“I know you will,” he hears her say. There's a smirk in her voice. “You boys behave, alright? Leave the door open a crack?”

“I hope you explode and die,” Chuuya shouts, praying Dazai doesn't look too deeply into that comment as they head up the stairs and up to Chuuya's room. He also hopes Dazai doesn't ask where the photos in the hall went. He can't be bothered to explain.

The second they get into his room, Chuuya drops Dazai's hand and turns around fiercely, glaring holes into his face.

“Where the f*ck were you?” he asks, before Dazai can get a word out.

The smile on Dazai's face instantly falters. Chuuya's sure he'd been about to make some kind of joke to make this situation seem more casual, but he didn't give him a chance. He's not letting Dazai get out of this without an explanation.

“Ah,” Dazai starts, shrugging and flashing a grin that Chuuya sees right through. “Would you believe me if I told you that aliens -”

“No,” Chuuya interrupts flatly. “I wouldn't.”

Dazai frowns, seemingly sensing Chuuya's real anger. “Ok,” he says, suddenly serious. “I'm sorry. My phone died and I had nowhere to charge it and I couldn't text you. I promise I would have if I could.”

He looks so down that Chuuya can't help but sag. Dazai doesn't look well, face pale and eyes ringed with darkness. Like a sad, wet cat. Chuuya lets out a sigh. He can't be mad at him for long, not when he looks so pathetic.

“Why didn't you just come back?” he asks. As he does, he heads over to his bed and sits down, yawning loudly. He really does hate being awake this early when he doesn't have to be. “I waited for you. I was scared you'd died. Do you know how high the crime rate around here is?”

“I do,” Dazai says, sounding sheepish. “I really was trying to find a place to charge my phone. Then I missed the last train, and I obviously couldn't text you.” He grimaces. “I really am sorry to have worried you.”

Chuuya opens his mouth to speak again, but Dazai continues before he can, voice quieter than before.

“I wanted to visit Odasaku,” he murmurs. “I - couldn't go to his funeral. And I don't know where his grave is because of that. I spent the whole day trying to find him, and I couldn't, so… yeah.” He wrings his hands together, examining his fingernails with too much interest. “That's that.”

Chuuya doesn't know what to say.

Dazai's stomach makes a sudden sound, and he wraps an arm around it as if to suppress it. He looks moderately embarrassed. “Don't mind that,” he says with a soft laugh, and then promptly marches over to the window. “Anyway, shall I open these curtains? Unless Chuuya's just going to go back to bed instead of entertaining me like a total loser. It's eight am, you should be long awake by now!”

When Chuuya doesn't reply to his weak subject change, Dazai turns around, meeting his eyes and stiffening. “What?” he says, defensiveness seeping into his voice. “What, what's wrong? Don't just stand there staring at me, if you want me to leave, I suppose I'll -”

“Do you want something to eat?” Chuuya asks knowingly, interrupting Dazai's nervous rambles.

Dazai freezes, before hesitantly shaking his head. “Ah, I ate so much last night, I couldn't -”

“Dazai,” Chuuya says sharply.

Finally, Dazai sags. Clearly, he doesn't have the energy to keep the facade up. “If the slug’s desperate to make me breakfast, I suppose I shouldn't say no.”

Thank you, goes unspoken. Chuuya rolls his eyes.

“Where did you sleep?” he asks, too curious not to. “The train station?”

Dazai rubs the back of his neck, making a face. “I didn't.”

Chuuya gapes. “Well, no f*cking wonder you look so awful.”

He hadn't meant for it to come out so mean, but Dazai only laughs, shaking his head. “Gee, thanks, Chuuya, and you look so beautiful right now yourself.”

“I mean it,” Chuuya says, knocking his head against the bedstead. “You look like you're dying. If you're sick, I don't want you anywhere near me.”

Dazai glowers. “I'm not sick, I'm just exhausted. Dick. Why don't you look in a mirror before you think about insulting me?”

Chuuya only flips him off, unfazed. “Go for a nap, you big baby, I'll make you a bowl of cereal or something.”

“No bacon and eggs?” Dazai whines childishly. “No avocado toast or little cut up strawberries?”

“You're lucky I feed you at all,” Chuuya says airily, before sitting up again, preparing himself to go downstairs. “Frosted Flakes or granola?”

“Frosted Flakes, I'm not an animal,” Dazai replies smoothly. Then an innocent smirk crosses his face. “Chuuya, why did Ozaki tell you to keep the door ajar?”

Chuuya picks up a rubber band ball from his bedside table and throws it as hard as he can in Dazai's direction. He dodges it easily and it whacks off of the window ledge before rolling away under the desk.

Dazai snickers. “Careful, you could smash the glass next time.”

“Bastard,” Chuuya growls, and gets to his feet. “Ozaki, just like all the rest of my friends, think that just because I'm bisexual, that means I'm into every guy I make eye contact with. Open the damn curtains, will you, don't just stand there being annoying about it!”

Dazai looks surprised, but does as Chuuya asks, flooding the room with light. Chuuya squints, groaning softly. Dazai sits himself down at Chuuya's desk chair with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Huh,” he says. “So Chuuya wouldn't date me?”

“Not in a million years,” Chuuya shoots back, feeling his face turn crimson. What the hell is he playing at, asking a question like that? “You're disgusting and I'd rather die. I'm going to go make your stupid breakfast now, so sit still and don't mess around with my sh*t!”

Dazai scrunches up his nose and scoffs. “Well, I'd rather die than date you, too! Hope you fall down the stairs and break your neck!”

Chuuya flips him off again as he goes out the door. “I hope you fall out the window and die in agony!”

“I hope your awful dog gets rabies and bites you!”

“I hope you fall in front of a train and get crushed!”

“I hope your head explodes!”

When he gets downstairs, Ozaki is still in the kitchen, looking at him weirdly.

“What are you looking at?” Chuuya snaps.

“Ah, nothing,” his sister says with a faint smile as she glances away, watching something out the window. “Nothing at all.”

Albatross meets him at the gates of the school on Monday.

“Hey,” he says, taking the lollipop that he's gnawing on out of his mouth and waving. Chuuya can see he's taken chunks out of the thing. “How's it going?”

There's a hint of nervousness in his tone. Like he's worried that one little incident has made Chuuya shatter. He can't help but roll his eyes. “Fine, as usual. Don't look so anxious, it makes your face look stupid.”

“Bitch,” Albatross says, but he sounds relieved. He punches Chuuya's arm as they head through the gates and up the path to the main building. “I'm allowed to worry about you. It's not my fault that the idea of being cared for makes you shake in your boots.”

“It doesn't,” Chuuya says roughly, and then promptly changes the subject before Albatross starts bringing up examples. “Has Lippmann texted you at all this weekend? I messaged him, like, two times and he didn't reply. I think he might be dead.”

Luckily, Albatross lets the switch of conversation go without issue. “Man, you need to start backreading the groupchat. He and his parents were seeing a musical this weekend and you know how they are about family time and spending time off of screens and whatever. He said he was gonna use the time to come up with new concepts for his film.”

“He needs to be done with that film already,” Chuuya sighs. He holds open the door for Albatross to slip through, then for a few more stragglers who nod and smile in thanks as they hurry by. He lets it swing shut and follows after Albatross once he's free. “Seriously, I bet every other participant has already started or even finished editing theirs.”

“Don't tell him that,” Albatross says darkly. “He'll have a panic attack and start doubting himself and then he'll never get anything done.”

They find the rest of their friends at the table next to the vending machines where they usually hang out before classes start. Chuuya can see Piano Man helping some very embarrassed looking seventh grader get something out of one of the machines, while seemingly not having very much luck. None of the others are rushing to help him, only watching with mild amusem*nt and laughing amongst themselves.

“You guys are monsters,” Albatross scolds them as they get close. He swings his bag off his back and leans on it on the table. “Why is nobody helping him?”

“He was just so confident when he went over,” Doc says with a wheezing laugh. His eyes are thin with mirth. “He was saying, “hey, little man, do you need some help? I've been at this school for years, I know how to use these -” and he very much does not. It is terribly funny. That poor child.”

Chuuya decides to spare Piano Man the pain and heads over, punching the side of the vending machine and freeing the kid's drink. “There,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That's how it's done.”

“Ah - yes, exactly like that,” Piano Man says, seemingly flustered at his failure. He nods seriously and taps his finger in the air. “Just keep that in mind next time.”

The kid ignores him and instead smiles up at Chuuya gratefully with gap teeth. “Thank you,” she says with a bow, and vanishes into the crowd of kids behind.

Chuuya turns to Piano Man and snacks him in the arm. “f*cking idiot.”

“Oww,” Piano Man moans dramatically. “Well, now you've just made me look like a fool.”

“You make yourself look like a fool,” Chuuya tells him flatly, and they get back to the table just as the bell rings.

“Aww, man,” Lippmann whines. He's dressed nicely today, with a soft white jacket over his uniform that looks too fancy for their school. “Chuuya, you need to get into school earlier in the morning so we can gossip properly. I missed you all weekend.”

“We have our first class together,” Chuuya reminds him. He sees Albatross heading the opposite direction in the crowd, and nods at him reassuringly. Albatross smiles and shoots him a thumbs up before he vanishes, and Chuuya turns back to Lippmann. “I heard you had a “no screens” weekend. What was that like?”

“Terrible,” Lippmann grumbles. “There was an argument as to whether my camera counts as a screen. And all my siblings ganged up on me to try and make it so I couldn't use my camera because they were all mad that they had to leave their tablets at home, the little monsters.”

Chuuya snickers. “Well, did you have to leave it?”

“No,” Lippmann says. “They let me take it. I got plenty of beautiful shots, too. I did spend the whole time we were in the theater terrified that someone would sneak into our hotel room and steal it, but it was all fine in the end. Terribly dull.”

“I'd imagine,” Chuuya says, raising an eyebrow. They enter the stairwell and begin to head up to the third floor. “What musical?”

“Lés Misérables,” Lippmann sighs. He grips Chuuya's arm when some kid coming the other way nearly barrels him over. “It was pretty good. Chuuya, if I ever die on one of these stairwells, either by toppling over the side or by being crushed to death, sue the school in my memory.”

“But of course,” Chuuya grins. “I've been looking for an opportunity.”

Lippmann laughs, but he doesn't sound very focused. They reach the top floor, but he pauses before they head down to their class. “Chuuya, did you finish that extra assignment for Shibusawa-sensei?”

Chuuya tenses, but scoffs as if he doesn't have a care. “Yeah. Well, no. I did, but - it wasn't good enough. I was gonna start over, but then I - didn't.”

“You're going to get in trouble,” he hears Lippmann say. When he looks up at him, he's frowning. “You promised you'd do it. To Shibusawa, and to Ozaki.”

Chuuya swallows, glancing away so Lippmann can't read his face. “It's not your business, man. I'll talk to Shibusawa.”

“You better,” Lippmann says grimly, adjusting his bag on his back. “I really don't want you to fail your classes, Chuuya. And Ozaki doesn't either. I don't mean to get on at you, I just know she'd be upset and that you wouldn't want her to be.”

That's true. Chuuya's been deliberately not thinking about it.

Once in the class, they head to their seats, ones next to the window where it's warm and bright. Chuuya exhales and begins arranging his things on the desk, trying to ignore the looks from Lippmann beside him. He's too exhausted to think right now. He barely slept last night.

While the class is still settling down, his phone pings, and Chuuya reaches for his pocket, wondering if Dazai's texting or if it's just Albatross, proclaiming in the group chat that he's already bored in class. But it's neither of these. Instead, there is a notification from an unknown number. Chuuya frowns as he clicks it, imagining it's either a wrong number or some kind of scam bot, which seem to be ever more prevalent these days.

Unknown Number (08:32): I think you'd appreciate seeing this.

Below it is a link to a Youtube video.

Chuuya scrunches his face and nudges Lippmann's arm. “Hey, man,” he says quietly. “What the f*ck is this?”

Lippmann leans over his shoulder to look and snorts. “It's one of those scam things. They send you what looks like a Youtube link and tell you that you've got, like, naked pictures that feature in it or something, but it's actually a website that steals your money. It's obnoxious, don't fall for it.” He lets out a laugh. “Not that you have any money to steal anyway.”

“f*ck you, asshole,” Chuuya says in response, but he's still more confused than anything. He glances down at my phone. “They didn't tell me I have naked pictures. Just had an ominous tagline that would actually make me less likely to click that link than anything.”

His friend shrugs. “I don't know, but it's definitely a scam thing. Maybe they're giving up on the nudie pics and are trying for a curiosity angle - get people to click without telling them why they need to, I don't know. But seriously, do not fall for that sh*t. Ozaki will throw a fit.”

“Excuse me, Nakahara-kun, Lippmann-kun,” comes a voice, and they both snap to attention guiltily as their teacher glares at them from across the room. He crosses his arms across his chest, eyes fixed specifically on Chuuya and making him tense. “I think you both know that there are no phones in class. I'm aware that it's close to the holidays and we're all so excited to get out and do whatever teenagers do these days, but that's no excuse for slacking off. Phone in your bag, Nakahara.”

Chuuya nods quickly and slips his phone away. However, Shibusawa’s eyes don't leave him. In fact, they narrow even further as he examines him, and Chuuya gulps, knowing exactly what the problem is now.

“If you could see me after class, Nakahara,” Shibusawa eventually says, before turning back to the rest of the class without any further discussion. “Now, we all have our books ready, correct? If we could turn to page sixty seven…”

Chuuya ducks his head, face hot as he does what his teacher asks. His heart is racing. He can practically feel Lippmann's sympathetic look, which he's sure, while genuine, also contains within in a slight eyebrow raise - I told you so.

After a few moments, he feels someone's eyes on him and glances up again, ready to shoot daggers at whatever nosy asshole is staring at him. However, the second he does, he makes direct eye contact with none other than Fyodor, on the entirely opposite side of the room. Chuuya had almost managed to forget he was in here. The boy's expression is almost owlish, his eyes huge and unashamed to be caught looking. There's a familiar sad*stic spark in his eyes that Chuuya knows well.

Asshole. He probably thinks that the fact that Chuuya is in trouble is funny. Subtly, and once he's made completely sure that Shibusawa isn't looking, Chuuya flashes him the middle finger.

But Fyodor's expression doesn't change, not at first. It takes a moment, but then his lips stretch into a large smile. The weird thing about this is that his eyes don't change with his mouth. They stay wide and open, where they would usually grow thin with his smile. It gives him an unnatural, puppet-like look. It makes him look inhuman.

Chuuya recoils, a shiver running down his spine, and buries his face back in his textbook.

When he glances over again, Fyodor is listening intently to Shibusawa as if nothing had happened.

Chuuya gets home later that night, later than usual, and slips through the door quietly, hoping no one will notice him.

But they do. “Evening, Chuuya. What's got you home late? You didn't text.”

Ozaki is standing in the kitchen, cooking something that smells sharply of onion and garlic over their largest wok. Her hair is a frizzy, unkempt mess, unusual for her, and her makeup is slightly smudged. Her college clothes are rumpled, black skirt and turquoise top all out of place.

Chuuya stands in the doorway, teeth snagging at the inside of his lip. “I was with Albatross.”

His sister glances over at him, and Chuuya feels as though he's under a microscope with the way her gaze is practically an examination. Those hazel eyes bear through him like lazers, capable of stripping every one of Chuuya's secrets from his skin like bark.

“Ok,” she eventually says. There's an edge of uncertainty to her tone. “That's nice. I'm glad you're still - managing to have fun.”

Her voice pitches very slightly as she struggles to turn the contents of the wok over. A small amount spills over the edge and sizzles as it hits the burner. Ozaki's lips tremble, and Chuuya is immediately slinging his bag off and darting forwards, taking the spatula from her hands and resuming her work himself. It's a stir fry, he realizes. She's making a stir fry. It smells gorgeous. She must have been at this for a while.

“Sorry,” Ozaki says. Her hands are trembling, as are her lips, the gloss painted over them smeared over her cheek. “Sorry.”

“It's ok,” Chuuya reassures her. He realizes he hasn't even taken his shoes off yet, but Ozaki hasn't noticed. She looks rather far away.

Chuuya finishes the job for her, then hands her the spatula back as he removes his shoes and slides his slippers on instead. Ozaki's hair is falling in front of her eyes, making it very difficult to see her expression. Chuuya tries, he does, but he can't see a thing. It's like his sister is invisible, deliberately hiding herself away from him. It's likely that she is.

“What's wrong?” he eventually asks her.

Ozaki makes an odd sound, then laughs in a manner that contains no humour. “What's wrong?” she echoes. “Nothing. It's just been too hot. You know I've never liked the summertime, even before everything that happened -”

Her voice rises in volume at that last word, and it's then that Chuuya understands, like a total f*cking idiot.

“Oh,” he says lamely. “I forgot about Paul.”

The kitchen is silent for a long moment, apart from the sizzling of meat and vegetables and noodles on the hob.

“I wish I had it that easy,” Ozaki murmurs.

It's like an ice block being dropped down the back of his shirt.

When Ozaki looks back at him, however, there's a gentle smile on her face. Like nothing happened. “Chicken and watercress,” she says, waving a hand in the direction of the wok. “I'll call you down when I'm ready to plate up.”

Chuuya nods wordlessly. Ozaki's smiles thins, and she looks back at the food, busying her hands with spices and spatulas, no longer paying attention.

He leaves the room silently and heads through the living room and up the stairs. The house looks more bare than ever. He feels a bit dizzy.

He swings his bedroom door open to the sound of a shriek.

Immediately, he slips inside and slams the door shut, in case Ozaki hears a voice that definitely does not belong to her brother in their house and freaks out, but then he finds himself faced with a much worse problem. The problem being that he's seemingly walked in on Dazai changing, because he's sitting on the futon, shirtless and clinging to a rumpled hoodie that he's using to hide himself with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” Chuuya says rapidly, “sorry, I would have knocked but Zaki’s here and she might think it's weird that I'm knocking on my own bedroom door…”

Even as he's speaking, he finds his voice trailing off into nothing, because against his better nature, he's staring at Dazai.

Dazai has bandages lining his arms and throat. Chuuya knows about those, has seen them a million times. Has been able to guess with pretty much one hundred percent certainty what is being hidden underneath them. But he's never seen any of the rest of his body. There never would be any reason for him to.

Dazai is covered in small, round red marks that Chuuya almost instantly identifies as burn scars from a cigarette. He knows this because Iceman has a few of those on his wrists from where he'd accidentally burned himself while he was high a couple years ago and hadn't felt any of the pain. But this is more than a few. There are tens of them, all across Dazai's shoulders and the front of his chest, which is mostly hidden by the tight beige vest that he's wearing - Chuuya has to imagine that they go below it as well.

And there's not only burn marks. Chuuya's not so stupid that he doesn't recognize animal tooth shaped bite marks - one of them on each of Dazai's arms, halfway covered by the bandages that are forced to stop where his armpits are.

“Stop staring at me,” Dazai demands. His voice is slightly pitched, a note of something Chuuya doesn't recognize in it. “Chuuya's a total pervert!”

Chuuya does look away, but the images of those marks are burned into his mind. There were so many of them. Some of them seemed fresher than the others. As if they'd just recently been done.

Dazai must take his silence as some kind of personal offense, because as soon as he's pulled the hoodie over his head and covered himself entirely, he's getting to his feet and glaring daggers in Chuuya's direction, practically forcing him to turn around and look at him. Chuuya can't help the way his eyes drop to Dazai's chest, as if automatically searching for the marks that he knows are now hidden. As soon as he catches himself, he looks away, but it's too late.

“What?” Dazai snaps. He's tense, defensive, in a way that Chuuya hasn't seen before. “What's the problem?”

Chuuya meets his eyes, trying to keep them fixed there as if he's not wondering what other strange scars cover the rest of Dazai's body. “I was - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been staring.”

Dazai doesn't say anything. He looks as though he's waiting for something.

Chuuya swallows, and glances across the room so he doesn't have to see the other boy's expression. “It's just - your scars. They're quite noticeable.”

“Yes, Chuuya,” Dazai says in a moderately scathing tone. “They would be, wouldn't they? Why do you think I cover them up?”

It takes a moment before Chuuya looks back over at him and gathers the courage to ask the question that popped into his head the moment he came in.

“Did you give those to yourself?”

There's a silent pause.

“What a stupid question,” Dazai says hollowly. His face is entirely blank. “Of course I did. It's called self harm, idiot chibi dog, it's what people who are depressed do to themselves when they want to die.”

But there's something hidden in the emptiness of his expression that gives Chuuya pause. It looks like fear.

He presses, because Chuuya is nothing if not someone who knows how to test a person's limits. “You don't smoke. I know you don't smoke. You said you hate the smell of it more than anything.”

“I used to smoke,” Dazai says sharply. Still defensive. “That's why I don't like people who do it. Because I've tried it and it's bad.”

Chuuya meets his eye. “What fifteen year old has tried smoking for long enough to give themself that many scars -”

“You know, maybe dogs don't speak for a reason -”

“-And then gave it up? Some of those scars look old, Dazai -”

“Chuuya.”

The sudden serious tone from Dazai makes Chuuya shut up instantly - the expression on the boy's face even more so. He looks tired. He doesn't look like a kid right now, not like he should, not at all.

“Leave it,” Dazai finishes. He flops back down onto the futon, casting his gaze onto his bags, sitting next to him. “Just leave it.”

Chuuya feels like such a fool, standing there with his hands limp by his sides, no idea what to do.

“You don't need to defend him,” he says.

He instantly regrets it the second Dazai whips his head around and meets his eyes. Clearly, he'd thought that Chuuya knew when to quit and wouldn't continue to push the issue, and maybe Chuuya should stop, but he doesn't know if he'll ever again get another opportunity to discuss the obvious elephant in the room. Now is probably the best time he'll ever get.

Dazai sets his jaw. “Defend who?”

Chuuya should back down. Chuuya should shut up.

“Your dad,” he says instead. “I know you ran away from him for a reason. You would have gone back by now if you had just had a petty fight. And you told me that - that you and your friend had planned your escape. That means you didn't - it wasn't impulse.”

He trails off lamely, grimacing as he tries to understand Dazai's suddenly empty expression.

“Sorry for pushing,” he mumbles. “I was just - I've been worried about you. Because obviously, you living here can't be - permanent. But if your dad - if your dad is - you can't just go back to him.”

They stare at each other for what feels like the longest silence of Chuuya's life. When Dazai speaks again, it feels like salvation.

“My family isn't any business of yours,” he says. His voice is flat and dull.

“Of course,” Chuuya says, nodding quickly. “Of course. I know it's not. I'm not just trying to be nosy. I mean, I really don't want - I don't want you to have to go back home to somebody who hurts you.”

Dazai blinks, slowly, like an old cat.

“I'm not going to the police,” he says after a moment. Chuuya's heart drops at the silent confirmation.

“But you could,” he says, without really thinking. “You have evidence that he's abusive all over your body, Dazai.”

Dazai lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Chuuya, I'm suicidal. I'm diagnosed bipolar. To anyone on the planet with eyes, it looks like self harm. I don't have any real evidence to hand over to a cop. Why do you think I just ran away and didn't do anything earlier? I'm not stupid, Chuuya.”

“I know you're not,” Chuuya says, and then he's getting closer, walking up to Dazai and sitting down beside him on the futon. Dazai flinches with the movement, and Chuuya stills, trying not to startle him. “But there surely has to be a way that you could -”

“The police are useless,” Dazai interrupts. His eyes are dark, like tunnels. “In every scenario, but especially this one. Didn't you tell me you hated cops, too? You ought to know damn well that they wouldn't be able to help me unless I walked in with a signed confession from my dad, and even then, it's unlikely. I'm a suicidal kid who's known to experience delusions - basically, I'm beyond saving in the eyes of the law. I'd get laughed right out of there.”

Chuuya doesn't take his eyes off of his face, barely breathing.

Dazai continues, lips curling up sourly. “My dad is more powerful than you might think. There isn't a cop or a lawyer on the planet who could help me.”

There's yet another long stretch of silence.

“Sorry for pushing,” Chuuya says, once he feels like it needs to be over. “I really am. It wasn't my business.”

“It's ok,” Dazai says. Weirdly, his tone sounds lighter, now. “I haven't - I haven't ever spoken about it with anybody other than Odasaku. It's nice to talk to someone who's living. Even if all I'm really doing is reaffirming how stupidly helpless I am.” He scoffs, staring at his knees. “I'm sorry for dragging you into all this.”

Chuuya blinks, startling. “What? Dazai, don't you be sorry. You haven't done a thing wrong.”

“You don't know what I've done,” Dazai says quietly. “I've done evil things, Chuuya. Really evil things.”

“Oh, come on,” Chuuya says. “You're fifteen. You're not capable of evil.”

Dazai's very quiet.

“I am,” he says. “I am.”

“No,” Chuuya replies firmly, “you're not, Dazai.”

He inhales before letting out a shuddering sigh. This has been a very emotionally heavy conversation, and it's made his head hurt a bit, quite frankly. Chuuya's not good with stuff like this. It's why he and Ozaki never talk about the things that they need to. They're both so similar, cut from the exact same cloth.

“What were your parents like?” Dazai suddenly says, out of absolutely nowhere.

Chuuya jolts, blinking himself back to the present. “What?”

Dazai shrugs, nonchalant. “I figured you've gotten a bunch of personal information from me, maybe you could share your own. You don't have to, I'm just curious.”

Alright. It makes sense - Dazai does know very little about Chuuya's family. He takes a breath and blows air out from his cheeks. Wondering how to start.

“Well,” he begins slowly. “They - they were good people. They cared a lot about their family, always doing everything they could to make sure we were looked after. My dad was the one who inspired me to take up jujutsu, years and years ago. He was always really - really encouraging about it. He would always tell me that he believed I could do whatever I set my mind to. And my mom was a genius. She was extremely popular, well liked by everyone. She loved music. Whenever we woke up on a Saturday morning and heard old French tunes playing from the radio, we knew that meant she was cleaning.”

He can feel Dazai looking at him, and glances up to meet his eyes. “She was French, by the way. You probably figured that out already, since you can clearly see from photos that she's not Japanese.”

“Yeah,” Dazai says. “I figured.”

Chuuya bites the inside of his cheek and continues. “When - when Ozaki was diagnosed with BPD, our parents were super supportive and helped her every step of the way through it. They were pretty much always there when we needed them. Every jujutsu tournament I participated in, they came to. Every art show Ozaki participated in in high school, they went to. It was like - they never ran out of time for us. Like the love in their hearts was infinite. I never felt bad when I was with them. They made me feel like just being near them made everything safe. You know that feeling you have when you're a little kid and you think your parents can protect you from anything in the world?”

Dazai titters softly. “Not particularly.”

Chuuya stiffens, remembering himself. “Sorry.”

“No problem,” Dazai says. He's staring across the room out the window, face hidden. “Keep going if you like.”

“I don't…” Chuuya hesitates, then trails off. “I don't know what else to say.”

“That's ok,” Dazai tells him, and then he turns back around and smiles. It's a more genuine smile than Chuuya usually sees on his face. “They sound like they were really lovely people. It's nice that you had that kind of support growing up.”

Chuuya freezes, then nods stiffly. “Yeah.”

He feels a bit sick all of a sudden. Really sick, actually. The lunch Ozaki made him for school stirs in his stomach, sloshing from side to side as it rises up to his throat.

“Hey,” he faintly hears, and then there's a hand gracing his sleeve, very gently. “Hey, I'm - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.”

Chuuya wonders what Dazai means for a moment, and then his vision blurs and he realizes that his eyes are wet, unshed tears clinging to his lashes stubbornly, refusing to fall. The sick feeling in his stomach intensifies tenfold.

“It's fine,” he manages, and then he's leaping up from the futon and bolting for the door, into the hall, the bathroom, and landing on his knees in front of the toilet just in time to throw up.

It isn't pleasant. Chuuya has always hated throwing up more than anything, always used to make his illnesses worse in his childhood by holding back from vomiting for as long as possible even when Ozaki would plead with him, telling him that it would make him feel better once he was done with it. It doesn't make him feel better now. All it does is make his throat burn, his chest tight, his mouth water weirdly and his head spin like someone's just socked him with a bowling ball.

The worst part is that, in his haste, he didn't close the door, and now Ozaki is darting up the stairs and he can't hide himself away fast enough. “Chuuya, are you ok?” she's saying, and then she's kneeling down beside him on the gross bathroom floor and pushing his hair back behind his ears, holding it there gently. “Hey, Chuu, talk to me, what's wrong? Did you eat something bad at school today? You should have told me you didn't feel well when you came in, lad, I would have offered to make something lighter for dinner.”

Guilt festers in his stomach like spoiled milk, like rotting meat and molding fruit. “I'm fine,” he chokes out. “Sorry. I'm fine. Just - felt a bit nauseous all day, I guess I should have expected this.”

He feels like sh*t, not just because of the vomit, but because he's also just left Dazai sitting in his room, alone, probably wondering what's wrong with him. Dizziness overwhelms him so harshly that for a moment he fully believes that he's going to faint.

“Here,” Ozaki says, and she helps him to his feet, clinging to him when he sways unsteadily. “Go wash your hands, ok? I'll make something lighter for dinner. I should have asked this morning what you wanted to eat tonight, really, I just wasn't thinking -”

“It's ok,” Chuuya says hoarsely. He stumbles towards the sink, splashing cold water over his face to bring some life back to him. “I'm still fine to eat the stir fry, seriously, Zaki, it looked really good. Thank you so much for making it, you didn't have to go to so much effort -”

“It was nothing,” Ozaki interrupts. Her cheeks are pink, and her hands tremble as she flushes the toilet and joins Chuuya at the sink. “It was nothing. Don't fret about it.”

She hesitates, and Chuuya tenses, knowing what's coming next.

“Did he call you again?” she says softly.

Chuuya doesn't need to ask who “he” is. He swallows and shakes his head.

“Not recently,” he mumbles. He watches the water run over his tan, callused skin. “That's not - I really do think I just ate something a bit off today. I had some of Iceman's lunch that he got from the cafeteria and it tasted a bit funny but I thought it was just my imagination.”

Ozaki runs her hands down his back sympathetically. The touch sends shivers through him, and for a moment, he considers begging her to stay here with him, to hold onto him for longer, to not let go.

“That f*cking school,” she says instead, an uncharacteristic swear word slipping from her lips. “I swear this is not the first time those incompetent people have made you sick. Don't eat anything else from there, ok, Chuuya? It's just not worth it.”

Chuuya nods, watching Ozaki's slim fingers turn the tap off and scrub themselves with a towel, shaking the water droplets free.

Her eyes are full of concern when he meets them. Gently, she reaches out and touches his cheek, for the briefest of moments. “Do you want to come downstairs and get something to eat?” she asks, so soft, so warm. “I was just about to call you down.”

Chuuya just nods again fiercely, having lost the ability to form words. Ozaki smiles, and Chuuya's heart skips, his bloodstream pounding in his ears.

Together, they go downstairs and Chuuya plates up a huge helping of stir fry. Ozaki watches him, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Are you sure it's good to eat that much after you've just been sick?” she ponders. “I know you hate throwing up. You're usually so cautious about it.”

There's no way to tell her the reason why he needs so much food, so he just nods. “I'm hungry,” he says with a false smile. “And it smells so good.”

Ozaki is silent after that. However, when he grabs cutlery and goes to take his plate upstairs with a few more thanks falling from his lips, she speaks up, tentative and quiet, as if afraid of his response.

“You could stay down here,” she says. “We almost never eat meals together anymore. It might be nice, you know. With the anniversary coming up.”

Chuuya stops where he is, heart rate skyrocketing. f*ck, he's waited so long to hear Ozaki say those words. To extend her hand after so long of the both of them pushing each other apart.

But he can't, he realizes with a cold wave of dismay. He can't, because Dazai is still upstairs, and he hasn't eaten, and Chuuya was never actually planning to eat all this food himself. He can't stay down here with her, as much as he wants to. Because he's lying to her.

He might just throw up again. He wants to scream.

“Sorry,” he says weakly. “I've got - work to do. Sorry.”

He doesn't wait around to see her expression or hear her response, because he doesn't think he could handle it. Instead, he bolts from the kitchen up the stairs, only slowing when he reaches his bedroom door and hesitantly sliding it open.

Dazai is sitting back on the futon, a book in his hands. Chuuya recognizes it as his Guide to Suicide, or whatever it was called, resting against his knees from where they're pulled up to his chest. He glances up when he hears Chuuya enter, his visible eye wide and waiting. His face is completely unreadable.

Chuuya grins weakly and holds up the plate in his hands. Luckily, Ozaki had been too preoccupied to notice him grabbing the second set of cutlery. “I've brought stir fry.”

In the end, Dazai doesn't say a word about Chuuya's brief meltdown, and Chuuya doesn't bring it up, either. But they eat together at Chuuya's desk, and Dazai steals all the chicken whenever Chuuya's about to pick some up, and they spend the evening in relative calm.

Everything is fine.

Ozaki is barely home the next few days, so Chuuya spends a lot of time with Baki, sitting downstairs and watching TV and feeling awful for no particular reason. Dazai refuses to join him when he does this, making up excuses even though it's obvious why he doesn't want to. Chuuya didn't dare ask about the bite shaped scars on his arms, but suddenly, his fear of dogs makes an infinite amount more sense.

And everything is fine.

Chuuya may be so stressed out that he feels physically nauseous almost every second of every day, but in the end, it's on no one but himself. He got himself into this. He's the one who has to suffer with it.

He's the idiot who thought he could handle all of this.

On the fifteenth, he has a therapy appointment. He doesn't tell Dazai where he's going, he just goes, because it's less complicated and embarrassing. He walks himself to the train station and heads to the doctor's office, bag banging off his thighs, sun beating down on his head and making him sweat.

Dr. Page is nice enough. He's an intimidatingly tall, stern looking man, but his voice is kind, and he's almost always smiling underneath thick, rectangular glasses. Chuuya likes him. They've gotten down to fortnightly sessions. It saves him a lot on train fares.

He's there in his office, waiting for Chuuya with the door open, head down towards his computer with fingers flying across the keyboard. Chuuya knocks anyway, feeling a little small and silly the same way he does every time he comes here. The doctor blinks and glances up to meet his gaze, a smile blooming across his face as he sees who's here. Chuuya kind of wants to run away, but that's not an option. Ozaki would get a call if he missed a therapy appointment, and that's not a lecture he needs right now.

“Hi,” he says weakly, waving like an idiot. “I'm not too early, am I?”

The doctor chuckles, getting up from his seat. “You're actually two minutes late, but I won't chastise you for that. Come in, sit down.”

Chuuya creeps in tentatively, deliberately not looking at the pale blue walls or framed degrees hanging above a messy desk, covered in papers and colourful jars of candy. This is the first therapy appointment he's had since Dazai arrived in his life over two weeks ago, and he's… unsure of what to say, frankly. A few days ago, Chuuya had the first panic attack that he's had in many months over something small Albatross said. He freaked out and took down all the photos of his family off the wall. Most recently, he threw up from just thinking about his parents.

Slinging off his bag and sitting at the rickety black chair across from Dr. Page's sleek swivel one, he feels more pathetic than ever being in here. He's always hated it. He doesn't understand why Ozaki enjoys her own therapy sessions so much. She still does weekly ones, in between college lectures. It confuses Chuuya to no end.

Dr. Page smiles at him, crossing his legs casually. Chuuya can see his own file pulled up on his computer screen. Scans the words that are written there until they become a total blur. Feels sick just at the sight of them, sick at the fact that every embarrassing piece of information about himself will be forever immortalized on this man's computer.

He wants to go home so badly right now. Maybe he'll buy himself a boba when he leaves as a treat for getting through another arduous session of nonsense.

“So, Chuuya,” says Dr. Page. He minimizes the window he has open on his computer, rather too late. “It's been a bit over two weeks, and it's pretty much time for the summer holidays, isn't it? How's that make you feel? Are you excited? I know I would be if I was still in school.”

Chuuya shrugs, fighting not to bite the inside of his lip. Dr. Page knows his idiosyncrasies well. “I'm excited. I'll be spending a lot of time with my friends.”

Dr. Page must pick up on a tone, because he sits up, although he's still trying to look as casual as he can. “That's nice, that's very nice. How have they all been lately? I know when you last came in here, you were worried about your friend Albatross.”

Pink floods Chuuya's cheeks. “I'm always worried about Albatross. There's nothing unusual about it. But he's fine. Doc's fine too, before you ask. His assessment came back ok. Apparently his doctor told him his tests showed signs of improvement in his lungs, which is really awesome. We all went out for ice cream to celebrate.” He kicks his feet, loathing how they don't touch the floor. “Lippmann decided on a theme for his film, at long f*cking last. He wants to make it about friendship, which sounds cringe, but I trust him to make it good. He's been super nervous about it, but he'll do great. He just doesn't have a lot of confidence in himself.”

He takes a deep breath and continues. “Um… Ozaki's been hanging out with Yosano a lot lately, which is super nice. I like it when she gets to go out and do nice things. So I've been looking after Baki. She's a super lazy dog, so getting her to go for walks is a pain. I've been lucky it hasn't rained. But Baki’s fine, too, apart from that. She is getting pretty fat, though. Zaki keeps saying we need to put her on a diet, but I think if we did, we'd, like, unlock some terrifying power within her and she'd flip the whole house upside down.”

Dr. Page is giving him that look. A bad feeling creeps over Chuuya. “What?”

“Nothing,” the doctor says smoothly. “I've just noticed that you've been in here for five minutes already and you haven't spoken a single word about yourself.”

Chuuya flushes, defensiveness rising before he realizes - he's right. sh*t. Chuuya hates these stupid sessions.

“I don't have anything to say,” he mumbles.

He just really wants to be out of here already, because if he was really going to talk about how he was feeling, he'd have to bring up Dazai. He'd have to tell his therapist how he found a homeless kid about to commit suicide by drowning in the ocean in the wee hours of the morning and now he's secretly living in his house because he doesn't have anywhere else to go, thanks to the friend that was supposed to be helping him run away killing himself before he could. How do you explain that in simple terms? Even more importantly, how does he explain this in a way that won't get Ozaki involved?

He feels a little dizzy now.

Dr. Page is staring. “You must have something to say,” he says, leaning back nonchalantly. He's twiddling a pen between his fingers, and it's so incredibly distracting. “You haven't been here in two and a half weeks. Even if it's something small, tell me something that's happened with you. Can you do that?”

“I met a boy,” Chuuya blurts out, before he can even stop to think about it.

This makes Dr. Page raise his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Chuuya holds his breath, feeling his face heat up further. Why did he have to go and open his mouth? He doesn't know why he does anything that he does.

“I just…” he starts, and then trails off lamely. “Saw him on the beach a couple weeks ago. I think it was the day of our last appointment, actually. He was - skipping stones out on the water by himself. And he… I don't know. I don't even know why I'm bringing this up.”

His hands come together to wring around each other anxiously, something Dr. Page certainly is taking mental notes of, but he doesn't point it out. He just watches Chuuya with sharp brown eyes, expression entirely unreadable.

“What did you think of him when you saw him?” he asks. “What about him caught your interest?”

Chuuya's shoulders shoot up to his ears, and he stares away at the window instead, watching the tops of the trees lining the parking lot sway outside in the breeze. “I guess I thought he was good looking,” he mumbles. “I haven't - I mean, I don't even think about romance anymore. Not since I broke up with Yuan and she moved away, and that was three whole years ago. If that even counted as a relationship, and it barely did. But… I don't know. He was just really pretty, I guess, and I haven't thought of any guys that way since I came out. So he caught my attention.”

Dr. Page is nodding, tilting his head back as he continues to examine him. “Yeah? So what did you do about it?”

What did he do, indeed. Well, Dr. Page, I didn't do anything because I'm scared of romantic commitment, but then later that night I realized I left my expensive sweater on the beach and went back for it only to find that same guy from earlier, trying to drown himself. And now he's living in my house. But I can't tell you that, because then social services will be at my door and God knows Ozaki doesn't need to deal with that sh*t anymore. I've put her through enough.

“I - I went and talked to him.”

Dr. Page hums, lips quirking up. “And what did you say?”

Chuuya meets his eyes with a deadpan expression. “You're getting too invested in this.”

“I'm your therapist,” Dr. Page says with a shrug. “That's my job. Continue.”

He screws up his face, but he does as he was told. “I… told him he was good at stone skipping. And we, uh… started talking, I guess. We've talked a lot since then. I've gotten to know him pretty well.”

He trails off. Dr. Page taps his pen off of his desk in a quick rhythm. “That's still pretty vague, Chuuya. What did you talk about that made the two of you become friends?”

“I don't have to tell you everything,” Chuuya snaps. The back of his neck is hot. “We just talked. About stuff. Then he gave me his Instagram and we talked a bunch more. And I…” He hesitates, judging how badly this next sentence might go down. “I think there might be something wrong with his home life.”

The way Dr. Page hums suggests that this has made everything Chuuya's said so far slot into place.

“I see,” he says softly. “If I may ask, how so?”

Chuuya swallows thickly. His leg is bouncing against the chair without his permission. “He's covered in cigarette burn scars,” he says quietly. “He tried to say he gave them to himself, but he's never smoked, he told me so already. Then he basically admitted that it - that it - wasn't him who gave him them. And he - well - he -”

He shouldn't have brought this up at all. He doesn't know what he was thinking. All he wanted was maybe, hopefully, just a smidgen of advice on what he could potentially do in this situation he's found himself in, but he can't even explain enough about Dazai's situation without getting them both in trouble. He can't explain that he stopped Dazai from committing suicide, or that he's ran away from home and is secretly living in Chuuya's bedroom, or that Dazai's father is apparently “powerful” enough that taking court action against him for his wrongdoings wouldn't be effective. There's no way to convey to Dr. Page just how serious all this is. It barely makes sense to himself.

When he looks up again, words lost in his throat, the doctor has a very serious expression on his face and is pinching his chin between his thumb and forefinger, clearly thinking. Chuuya flinches when he looks back at him, anxiety flaring up in his chest at the thought of the potential responses he could receive.

“Alright,” is what Dr. Page eventually says, after an agonizing three seconds of silence that stretch on for millennia. “I understand that it must be stressful to be in such a situation, Chuuya, and I'm truly sorry that you've had to endure that much mental strain. I also know that, for your friend's safety, you might not want to say any more about his situation to someone like me.” He peers above his glasses at Chuuya, lips set. “All I can say in regards to that is that I trust your judgement. If you would feel comfortable giving up more information about this, then we will do as much as we can for your friend. But child abuse situations are incredibly serious.”

Chuuya stiffens and nods. “I - I know. But I don't want - I couldn't betray his trust like that.”

Dr. Page bobs his head. “I understand. You have my number, Chuuya, you can contact me any time.” A smile cracks his face. “Preferably within reason. I do need to sleep occasionally.”

Finally, Chuuya manages to relax again and leans back in his seat. “Yeah. I know. Thank you for - not being weird about it. I promise I'll let you know if anything happens that I might need your help with.”

“Of course,” Dr. Page says with a gentle smile. “I'm always here.”

Chuuya hums and casts his gaze away from the doctor's face, feeling as though he's been staring a little too long. As he does, his eyes instead land on a set of photos on the man's desk, sitting on either side of his computer monitor. Photos of Dr. Page and another man, tall and dark skinned with a brilliant smile. In some others is a girl, a sweet girl with blonde hair tied in braids and braces on her teeth. She looks about ten years old. Chuuya's spent a lot of time in this office staring at Dr. Page's photos. The man has never minded. They wouldn't be there if he did.

“Something on your mind, Chuuya?” Dr. Page says after a pause. “Anything in particular you want to bring up?”

“Not really,” Chuuya murmurs. He doesn't look away from the young girl's smile. “Sorry.”

Dr. Page shifts in his seat, and then reaches over his desk for a Rubik's cube that was sat beside his papers. He tosses it to Chuuya, knowing he'll catch it. “How's your sister been? I've missed seeing her, it's been a while since she walked here with you.”

“Yeah,” Chuuya says quietly. He tears his gaze away from the photos and starts solving the cube absently, gnawing on the inside of his lip. “I'm old enough to do it myself now. I don't need my big sister to do everything for me. She's got a life of her own too.”

“I know that,” Dr. Page says gently. “I didn't mean to upset.”

With a jolt, Chuuya realizes how bitterly he'd spat his previous words. “Oh. I know. Sorry, I'm in a - weird mood.”

Dr. Page nods. He twirls a pen between his fingers, which Chuuya watches in between sliding coloured cubes from place to place, searching for the correct one. “That's understandable. It's a rough time of year for you, isn't it?”

“I don't want to talk about Paul or my parents,” Chuuya says flatly. Leaving no room for discussion.

“Alright,” Dr. Page replies. He never sounds annoyed or disappointed when Chuuya sets a boundary - always understanding, always so understanding. “Noted. Do you want to talk about Ozaki?”

“I always talk about Ozaki,” Chuuya mumbles. “Nothing ever changes.”

“The two of you still haven't talked yet?”

“About what?”

“When you were last here, Chuuya, I recall you saying you were planning to sit her down and have a conversation about some things. Things regarding your own feelings towards your situation, and what you believe her feelings are. You were quite adamant about it.”

Chuuya presses his lips together and focuses on the cube all the more intently.

“It's not easy,” he says hotly. “Telling my sister that I think she resents me because I ruined her life.”

“Chuuya.” The tone still isn't what it should be - just slightly chiding, correcting him for a simple mistake. “Don't you remember the discussion we had about this exact subject before? We both agreed that what happened was in no way your fault.”

Chuuya snorts harshly. “I always believe it was my fault. Ozaki shouldn't have ever been left to parent me. Now she has to come home from college to me every single day, and she can't live with her girlfriend like she wants to because I'm not eighteen yet. She spends all her time making me dinners and lunches and helping me with homework and cleaning up my messes whenever I f*ck up and it's not fair that she should have to. It wasn't fair of them to leave us. It wasn't f*cking fair, and they were selfish for it, because now Ozaki can't stand me anymore because I represent the loss of her freedom.”

He takes a deep, shaky breath, and looks up to meet Dr. Page's eyes.

There is never pity there, which Chuuya is always immeasurably grateful for. Dr. Page never looks at him like he's a pathetic child - always just like he would any other patient, with gentle sympathy and calculation. Chuuya never feels like he's being looked down on in here, even when he's being insane. He would never go otherwise.

“I know it's difficult,” Dr. Page tells him. “Your situation. But I do believe that you and Ozaki desperately need to have a conversation. You've been dancing around one another for far too long, and there's no way that it wouldn't do you both some good. I'm sure she'd like to talk to you, too, but both of you struggle with unpacking your emotions to each other. It's scary to be vulnerable.” He taps his pen against his stubbly chin, raising his eyebrows. “But sometimes it's necessary for progress. In your case, especially so.”

Chuuya swallows and glances over at Dr. Page's photographs again. This time, he feels the man's eyes follow him, watching what he's doing. He suddenly feels terribly overwhelmed.

“Dr. Page,” he says. “What's your husband like?”

He sees Dr. Page blink with surprise out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn't hesitate to respond. “He's wonderful. I've never met a man as incredibly creative as he is. He always has fantastic new ideas, always bringing home craft supplies and rubbish to turn into something fun. He managed to get Anaya to start eating vegetables by cutting them up into hearts with cookie cutters. It's her favourite shape. He bought lots of differently shaped ones in case she ever wanted something new.”

Chuuya's lips twitch. “He sounds super nice. You don't talk about him much.”

“Well, it's not my job to talk about my husband, is it?” Dr. Page says with a note of amusem*nt in his voice. “It's my job to help you.”

Chuuya nods slowly. His mouth tastes like copper. “What's Anaya like?”

Dr. Page frowns slightly, but still answers. “She's our whole world. So lively, so clever for her age, always exploring and never hesitating to ask questions about what she sees around her. She's taken to spending lots of time outside in the garden with her papa these days, not so much helping as she is making a bit of a mess, but neither of us could ever fault her for enjoying nature. It makes her happy, and seeing her happy makes me happy, too.”

After a brief pause, Chuuya glances back at the Rubik's cube again. Fiddling with the corner of a red sticker that's peeling off the plastic. “And you guys love her? More than anything?”

“I would say so,” Dr. Page says. “Chuuya, may I ask why you're asking these questions?”

Chuuya laughs softly. “Just wondering. Because you and your husband, right, you chose to have Anaya, right? You told me about it before. How you spent years searching for a donor, and it was like some higher force was smiling on you the day you found the perfect one. How holding Anaya for the first time felt like your soul had just completed itself for the first time.”

“You have a very good memory,” Dr. Page says, after a slight pause. His expression is unreadable. “We had that conversation over a year ago.”

“Yeah,” Chuuya says. His smile is sour and dark. “I was curious about this same thing back then, too, but I didn't wanna say it to you in case I sounded awful.”

Dr. Page leans back in his seat with a slight creak. “Curious about my husband and daughter?”

“Partially, but not just that,” Chuuya replies. “Curious about how it could be possible to want a child so, so much and then - and then hurt them. Abandon them. Leave them alone in the cruel, f*cked up world you brought them into, willingly, as if they're a toy you bought and decided you didn't want. Do you know what I'm saying, Dr. Page?”

He doesn't take his eyes off the toy in his hands, but he hears the understanding in the doctor's voice, like he's pieced together a puzzle. “I do. But I thought you didn't want to discuss -”

“My friend got me thinking,” Chuuya interrupts. There's a frantic tone to his voice, his fingers flying faster across the cube. “He got me thinking about how a parent could ever possibly treat their child like that. Every adult in the world has been a child once. They live either knowing what it felt like to be surrounded by the love and support of the adult figures in their own life, or they live knowing what it felt like to be cast aside, treated like sh*t with nobody to be there for you. So why would you ever want to hurt the kid you brought into the world? Your own flesh and blood? What could possibly make you not love them, even if you maybe didn't want them when they were born? It's never made sense to me. What could make a parent want to treat a helpless child like they're nothing. To leave them when they really need you most.”

He's breathless by the time he finishes. The Rubik's cube has been almost entirely completed. There's one incorrectly placed line left. Chuuya runs his thumb over it, licking blood out of the inside of his mouth.

“Chuuya,” says Dr. Page, and his tone of voice is entirely unreadable. Again, there's no pity, just understanding and sorrow. “Are you really talking about your friend right now?”

Chuuya only frowns and stubbornly clicks the last piece of the Rubik's cube into place without an answer.

“I don't want to watch Terminator, Chuuya.”

“Man, you f*cking suck. I guarantee this movie is twenty times better than whatever you want to pick.”

“There's nothing wrong with Ring.”

“There is, and it's the fact that it's a horror movie, Dazai. I'm not watching a horror movie with you of all people.”

“Because you're a scaredy-dog? You're a weak little baby who can't stand a few scares?”

“Can you just die already?”

Chuuya and Dazai are sitting on the bed together, so far apart that they're both nearly falling off, and flicking through the movie selection of Netflix for something to do. So far, it's been fifteen minutes and has resulted in nothing but irritating, childish bickering, mostly spawning from Dazai's mouth. It seems he's determined to disagree with everything Chuuya says.

“It's not my fault you've got awful taste in quite literally everything,” Dazai complains. They'd made popcorn before coming upstairs to find something to watch, and his bowl is already nearly empty, which Chuuya knows means that he'll be pawing at his the second they actually put something on. “Your clothes, your favourite bands, the food you like, the movies you watch -”

“You are deliberately pretending to hate everything I enjoy because you're a gigantic asshole,” Chuuya deadpans. He leans over to smack Dazai's arm with the remote, delighting in his dramatic wail of pain. “There is no teenage boy on the planet who doesn't like Terminator.”

Dazai sulks, jutting out his bottom lip. There's butter stains all over his faded Def Leppard hoodie, which seems to be his favourite thing to wear. Chuuya swears he almost never sees him without it. “Some of us have never seen it, Chuuya, the world doesn't revolve around -”

Chuuya interrupts him, gaping. “You haven't even seen Terminator?”

“Why?” Dazai scowls. “So what if I haven't? Is Chuuya going to accuse me of not being a real man -”

“No,” Chuuya says loudly, already flipping back through the millions of movies they'd already argued over and eventually dismissed. “We're going to watch Terminator right here and right now.”

Ozaki is out with her friends, so Chuuya's thankfully been left with the freedom to mess around while Dazai's here, not having to sneak him around or have him prepare to hide every time the stairs creak. They spent about an hour downstairs playing Call of Duty, but got bored not long after they started and moved back upstairs to familiar territory. In all honesty, it's been pretty nice, just getting to chill with Dazai without worrying about Ozaki. He'd been a little shaken after his therapy appointment yesterday, and he couldn't help but feel like she was tiptoeing around him for the entire evening. It isn't a pleasant feeling. He doesn't like it when Ozaki can tell that he hasn't had a good day. It just makes him feel a bit pathetic.

So getting to come home and relax with the one person he can trust to never ask a million annoying questions about his well-being after a stressful day at school is pretty decent.

“I don't want to watch it,” Dazai whines. He kicks the bedsheets with the heel of his socked foot. “It looks terrible.”

“It's iconic and I'm frankly insulted that you would talk about it that way.”

“What ever,” Dazai says with a huff, crossing his arms across his chest. “It's just another garbage robot movie from the 1990s. There's lots of those. What makes this one cool?” He turns to Chuuya with challenge glinting in his eyes. “Convince me.”

“Ok,” Chuuya says, and props himself up fully, crossing his legs over each other. “So the basic premise -”

“He's sitting up,” Dazai says in a dramatic tone. “Oh, god, you know it's getting serious when he sits up!”

“Shut your mouth,” Chuuya scolds him, and smacks him with the remote again, this time over the head. “The basic premise is that this robot, this cyber assassin, is sent back in time from the year 2029 -”

“Wow, that's only a few years away, I can't wait for them to make the Terminator real -”

“- To 1985 to kill this woman who's unborn baby is gonna do some real important sh*t and save humanity,” Chuuya continues, ignoring Dazai's taunts. Then he furrows his eyebrows together, thinking. “No, 1984. I'm pretty sure it's 1984. Like that novel Lippmann was explaining to me a few weeks ago.”

“Chuuya doesn't even know the movie he's pitching to me,” Dazai sing-songs. His mouth is full of popcorn, and little flecks of the kernels fly out the corner of his mouth. “What a silly boy he is.”

“Let me explain!” Chuuya screeches. “Jesus Christ… Ok, so basically, the Terminator is sent back in time to kill this woman. From the same time period, another guy is sent to the same year, except this guy's a human soldier called Kyle Reese. Both of them have similar objectives - the Terminator wants to kill this woman called Sarah Connor, and Reese wants to save her.”

Dazai wrinkles up his nose, still rubbing his head where Chuuya had hit it. “That's stupid. What, are they having a race or something?”

Chuuya takes a deep breath, trying to recall the details. “Basically, Sarah is going to have a baby who, in the future, leads a revolution that saves the entirety of humanity from a great evil network called Skynet. This makes her very important. The Terminator is a cyborg created by Skynet who Skynet sent back in time to kill Sarah so she never gives birth to her son and therefore, there's nobody to take down Skynet. And the soldier, Reese, he's here to save Sarah so her son will be able to, you know, do his thing.”

When he looks at Dazai again, he's delighted to see the thoughtful expression on his face. “Huh,” he says, stroking his chin like he's an old age philosopher. “I guess that does sound kind of interesting.”

“I knew it!” Chuuya crows, pumping his fist in the air and nearly spilling his bowl of popcorn all across the bed. “I f*cking knew it, I knew I could convince you -”

“Pause,” Dazai says, holding up a finger and waggling it in Chuuya's direction. “How beautiful is this Sarah woman, and how much screentime does she have? I don't wanna watch a movie with nothing but big ugly men shooting at each other in it.”

“She gets plenty of screentime, I'd say,” Chuuya says, frowning. “And you're crazy to say Arnold Schwarzenegger is ugly. Women literally love that guy.”

Dazai shrugs. “I don't know nor care what he looks like. Most men are ugly. That's why Ring is good. It's mostly women in the cast. Also, there's evil entities that crawl out of TVs. That's so much cooler than a robot guy who travels through time.”

“He doesn't just travel through time,” Chuuya argues. “He has sick weaponry and he has some of the coolest lines in the movie, like -” He puts on a deep voice. ““I'll be back…””

Dazai bursts into peals of laughter, falling back against the bed. “What the hell!” he cackles, clutching at himself as he loses it. “I don't even have to watch the movie to know how terrible that was!”

“You can't make fun of me until you do watch it, though!” Chuuya yowls, and drops backwards to meet Dazai against the pillows as he punches his arm repeatedly. He feels his face burning red. “You total jackass! God, you are just the f*cking worst!”

Dazai continues giggling, wiping at his face. “Ow, Chuuya, ow, you're so mean to me! Fine, fine, I'll watch your stupid movie that you like so much! How can one chibi slug be so violent? I ought to throw salt over you!”

Chuuya's so busy swinging at Dazai that he forgets about the bowl at his feet and accidentally slams into the side of it with his foot, sending the thing toppling over and spilling popcorn all across the floor.

“Oh, man,” Chuuya wails with dismay as he scrambles up to examine the mess. “Look what you made me do!”

“I didn't make you punch me,” Dazai says as he sits up slowly, rolling his arms to try and act as though Chuuya in any way actually hurt him. “That's Chuuya's own fault for always resorting to violence… argh, stop smacking me, I did nothing to you!”

“Go get the broom, asshole,” Chuuya tells him fiercely, landing one final swat on Dazai's arm before he slumps back, eyeing the few pieces of popcorn he has left in the bowl moodily. “It's propped up against the wall in the kitchen, or it's behind the couch in the living room. Stop whining, you made me kick it over!”

“How cruel,” Dazai grumbles, although he does get to his feet and start dragging himself towards the door. “I'm being made to do chores as a punishment like Cinderella… does that make Chuuya my evil, ugly stepmother?”

“I'm certainly evil, that's for sure,” Chuuya says scathingly. He waves a hand towards the door. “Scat. I'm sick of your face!”

When Dazai opens the door, however, he immediately leaps backwards when Baki trots inside like she'd been waiting for someone to let her in.

“Christ!” he shouts, clapping a hand to his chest. He's shot halfway across the room, visible eye wide. “How long was she standing there? Chuuya, your dog is literally the devil!”

“Oh, she is not the devil,” Chuuya scoffs, reaching out to steer Baki away from the popcorn mess on the floor and pet her behind the ears. “She probably heard us fighting and came up to see what the fuss was. Go get the broom, I'll send her back out once you come back. She's probably missing Zaki, aren't you, puppy? Aren't you missing Zaki? Yes you are, and I bet you want more dinner too even though I just fed you an hour ago, yes I did, yes I did!”

Dazai grumbles something about how Chuuya talks to his dog nicer than he talks to him, but before Chuuya can retort, he's already vanished. If Chuuya knows him at all, he'll probably lurk downstairs for a few minutes longer than necessary to try and calm himself down after Baki scared him, and he's not going to call him out for that. Dazai's phobias are not his business.

Baki jumps up against Chuuya's legs and whines. There's something like distress in her voice, and Chuuya's heart pangs. “Aww, poor baby,” he coos, scratching her scalp and pressing a kiss to her damp nose. “Is Dazai so, so scary? Don't worry, he's more scared of you than you are of him, I promise you.”

He turns to grab the remote and search for Terminator on the TV so it'll be ready for when Dazai comes back. He feels Baki’s paws leave his legs, but he doesn't question what she's doing, too distracted for a moment until he remembers the popcorn kernels on the floor. His head snaps around, a scolding ready on the tip of his tongue, only for Baki to be nowhere near the popcorn. She's actually half underneath the bed, whining shrilly. Chuuya sets down the remote and drops to the floor on his knees, wondering if some of the popcorn had spilled under here too, if that's what's gotten Baki’s attention.

It hasn't. Baki is growling softly in the direction of one of Dazai's bags. It's the one that Dazai keeps on him at all times, the one he even drags around the house with him as if he'd ever need to make a sudden escape. Chuuya's never questioned it - of course the kid who had to run away from home for his own safety is bound to have some trauma about leaving things behind, and probably doesn't want to accidentally lose the last few important things he has in his possession. But now, Baki's staring at it with furious, slit eyes as though it's an enemy. Dazai must have been petting a cat or something recently, if the bag smells like something that Baki wants to fight with.

“No, Baki,” Chuuya scolds her softly, and reaches out to grab her collar and drag her out. “That's not yours. You can't chew on Dazai's stuff, only yours, ok? Or mine, if you really have to. Come on, out you come.”

She continues growling, slightly muffled now, claws scrabbling for purchase on the floorboards. Chuuya yanks a little harder, trying not to hurt her, but gasps when he realizes that Baki has actually grabbed the side of Dazai's bag in her teeth and is gnawing at it like she's trying to take a chunk out of it.

“No!” Chuuya shrieks. He grabs Baki with his other hand, too, trying to peel her mouth off of the polyester material. “No, Baki, that's so naughty, stop it! You're going to really upset Dazai and then you're gonna be banned from my room forever! Stop - it - let go, Arahabaki, you're gonna get me in trouble!”

She barks loudly, which causes her teeth to slip out of the bag and gives Chuuya a window to grab her snout and pull the bag away. However, in his haste, he doesn't move his hand far back enough that he's not in her line of fire, and finds himself wailing as Baki’s teeth come down on the back of his hand.

It stings like f*ck, and when Chuuya examines the damage, eyes watering from the pain, there's already blood sprouting from the wound. Fortunately, it seems shallow, and he's able to divert his attention back to Baki, who immediately lunged for the bag again the second Chuuya let her go. She's got the thing bundled up in her teeth, and she's shaking it back and forth like it's a chew toy, and Chuuya's life is flashing before his eyes as he imagines how Dazai is going to possibly react to coming upstairs and seeing this. Seeing a dog tear through his most precious things. He's going to freak the f*ck out, and Chuuya feels a little faint at the possibility.

“Baki,” he pleads, grabbing her collar and yanking at the fabric of the bag, trying desperately to get it out of her grasp without further injury. “Baki, please, just - let - go -”

Finally, he manages to tear the bag from her, and he pulls her away as far as he can so she can't reach it as he picks up the bag and places it on the bed to inspect the damage.

There's a tear in the side, he realizes with a jolt of pure dismay. f*ck. Dazai's going to flip, Dazai's going to be so upset and it's his fault for not being able to control his own dog -

Then Chuuya freezes as he spots something through the torn folds of the fabric.

It looks as though the bag is full of books. Books, and a framed photograph, which Chuuya can see clearly. There's a young girl who looks a lot like Dazai, wearing a blue yukata and grinning. Her arm is around a boy who's just a little taller than her, dressed similarly to the girl, except in red. Chuuya would recognize that face anywhere, after the way it had burned into his brain the first time he'd seen it. It's Odasaku. Smiling and sporting two thumbs up, the acne on his face and the braces on his teeth proof of just how young he really is.

That's not what's caught Chuuya's attention, however. It's the thing lying half in front of the photo. It's slim and solid black, the matte material extending outwards and jutting through the material of the bag. Even though all Chuuya can fully see is the shaped handle of it, even though he's never seen one in real life before, it's obvious what the thing is. Obvious what that shape is. It's completely unmistakable.

Still, he has to know, so he pinches the handle and drags it out slowly, past the photograph and out onto the bedsheets. A sloped trigger makes itself visible, a smooth barrel, a hollow muzzle, and Chuuya actually has to leap to his feet and stumble back until he nearly hits the doorframe.

Baki's barking increases in volume, and Chuuya tightens his grip on her collar, nausea expanding in his stomach. Bile climbing up his throat. Eyes so wide it hurts his face, but he's afraid to close them in case blinking and seeing the thing still there will make everything all the more terribly real.

Slowly, he steps forward again, his knees brushing against the mattress. He picks up the thing in his hands, feeling how heavy it is, how solid the metal is beneath his touch.

He doesn't hear the creak of the stairs signaling Dazai's approach.

“What's the dog freaking out about?” Chuuya hears him say, and he goes motionless, not daring to turn around and face him. “Is she angry? Is she going to eat me? If she's going to eat me, can I at least get a last meal of my own first, you really burned that popcorn and I don't know how -”

He goes dead silent, because he's gotten close enough to see what Chuuya has in his hands.

Slowly, Chuuya turns on heel, raising his eyes from the thing in his hand to examine Dazai's face.

He's never seen the boy look more scared than he does now.

“That's not mine,” Dazai says hollowly. He's taken a step back, both of his hands raised to the sides of his head. “Chuuya, it - it's not mine.”

“This is a gun,” Chuuya says. “Dazai, this is a gun, and it was in your bag.”

Dazai shakes his head, expression frozen in one of pure wide eyed fear. “It's my dads. I stole it when I left. I never would have ever used it on anybody other than myself. That was all I planned to do with it. I promise.”

Chuuya is shaking so hard it hurts his joints. He drops Baki's collar and raises his trembling hand to clamp over his mouth, trying to hold back the vomit that threatens to come up. At his feet, Baki is still, staring up at him and whining lowly with the fur on her back standing on end.

“You,” he says, and a small gasp escapes his lips without his permission, “have a gun in your bag, Dazai.”

Dazai is trembling too. He's moved back far enough that he's hit the edge of the open door. “I never would have hurt any of you. I promise. I promise, Chuuya, I - I didn't - I wouldn't have. It was a mistake to take it in the first place, I - I just wanted to have a - a way out, if I -”

“You needed a quick and easy way to kill yourself?” Chuuya says, a little too loudly. The blood is rushing past his ears so loudly he can't hear himself think. “You had to carry it around with you at all times?”

“I'll leave if you want me to,” Dazai says. His hands drop from the pleading position they'd been in before to cover the bottom half of his face. His eye has glassed over, no longer watching the gun in Chuuya's hand. “I'll leave. Just please don't - don't - don't call the police on me or anything, please, I'll leave you alone if you don't -”

“You're insane,” Chuuya says, and it comes out as a desperate sob. He feels so sick. “What the hell, Dazai? What the hell am I supposed to do now? Do you know what could happen to me and Ozaki if this thing is discovered in our house that on paper, you don't even live in? I don't know how long we'd go to jail for, but we would go to jail, Dazai, or at least Ozaki certainly would. What the f*ck were you thinking? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn't,” Dazai moans, muffled behind his hands. He shakes his head fiercely, squeezing his eyes shut. “All I was thinking about was using it to kill myself. I didn't account for - for you - for you saving me, and inviting you into your home, ok? You think I would have - I would have taken it if I knew?”

A wave of horror crashes over Chuuya. “Oh my f*cking god,” he groans, swaying on the spot. “You weren't planning to drown yourself, you were gonna - you were gonna walk out to sea and shoot yourself in the f*cking head?”

A strangled laugh escapes Dazai's throat. “Do you seriously think I would have allowed myself the possibility of not dying and getting sent back to my father?”

Chuuya can't take it. He drops back down onto the bed, breath knocked out of him, and sets the gun down facing away from the both of them.

Instantly, Baki starts barking again, and Chuuya is hit by such an intense wave if nausea that he nearly immediately projectile vomits all down himself. As is it, he has to swallow back sick and reach out to push Baki away. “Ok,” he says, and breathes out sharply, trying to regain his bearings. “Ok. I'm taking Baki downstairs, and you're coming, don't you dare try and argue. I'm not - leaving you alone in my room with a f*cking gun.”

Dazai stiffens, eyes fixed on Baki as she squirms in Chuuya's grip, but he doesn't argue. “I'm not gonna shoot myself the second you leave the room, you know.”

Chuuya doesn't grace that with a response. He just grabs Dazai's arm with his free hand, stuck in the awkward position of leading the taller boy and the much smaller dog out of the room without a free hand to close the door with, but luckily Dazai does it for him without asking. He doesn't dare meet Chuuya's eyes, keeping them trained on the floor in front of him.

“You're bleeding,” he murmurs, and Chuuya realizes that the hand he's clinging to Dazai with is the one Baki bit. “Did she hurt you?”

“It's fine,” Chuuya mutters, swallowing hard. “It's just a surface wound. She barely grazed me.”

Going down the stairs is difficult, with Chuuya having to guide Baki and keep ahold of Dazai both at once, but he manages it. Once in the kitchen, Chuuya goes for Baki's food cupboard with shaking hands and pours her a bowl of kibble. She's just eaten not long ago, but he needs her to calm down and forget about what she'd been freaking out about upstairs and food is a good way of doing that. Once he's finished, he gets back to his feet and looks over at Dazai. He's standing in the doorway, looking entirely miserable, lips quivering with the force of his upset.

Chuuya walks over, and Dazai flinches like he's about to be hit, but still doesn't look up. Sorrow swells in Chuuya's chest. He wonders what they did in a past life to deserve this.

“Hey,” he says. “Can I hug you?”

Dazai's head snaps up, eye wide with fear and anxiety, but he nods slowly after a moment of consideration. Chuuya mimics the gesture, then throws his arms around Dazai gently, holding the taller boy close against his chest.

Dazai doesn't move for a moment, as if scared to, but then, hesitantly, his arms come up to rest around Chuuya's shoulders. His head drops down against his neck, and he hides his face away, shaking hard enough that Chuuya can feel it.

“We're gonna figure this out,” Chuuya says softly, against Dazai's ear. He still feels a little faint, a little nauseous, but somehow it feels like everything is closer to being under control. “The both of us are going to figure this out. We're going to get rid of that f*cking - thing - and we're never gonna have to worry about it again.”

“You're serious?” he hears Dazai choke out. “You're taking responsibility for this with me?”

“Yep,” Chuuya says, and holds Dazai tighter. “I am.”

“Why?” Dazai says. “Chuuya, I don't understand, why? This doesn't have to be your business. You could get in trouble. You touched the gun with your bare hands.”

Chuuya breathes in shakily, then exhales again. “Because I'd frankly rather have to be burying this gun somewhere with you than have come across your dead body on a beach several weeks ago. I like you, Dazai. I really do. And I am so f*cking glad you didn't kill yourself, ok?”

Dazai stiffens and buries himself deeper against Chuuya's neck without responding.

Chuuya gives him a few minutes to hide his face. God knows he needs it too. The events of the last ten minutes have been more than he can handle, and he needs the time to calm down. In the corner of the room, he can hear Baki scarfing down her food, and the familiar sound relaxes him.

Eventually, Dazai pushes him away, a shudder running through him as he ends the contact. His face is pink, but he doesn't look as though he was crying or anything, which is good because Chuuya does not know how he would have dealt with that. He's still stiff and rigid, arms crossed and holding himself. His breaths aren't coming out quite right.

“What now?” he says. He sounds so very small.

Chuuya inhales and nods to get his brain moving. “We have to get my fingerprints off that gun, ideally. Then we have to bury it. There's a public woods about twenty minutes from here on foot, and it's getting dark soon, so there'll be nobody there. I can grab, like, a gardening shovel or something that's small enough to put in our pockets and we can take it out there. Put it deep enough in the ground that nobody will likely stumble upon it.”

Dazai swallows and hums in agreement. “Yeah. Wiping fingerprints off a gun is easier than it might seem. If we spray it with some kind of cleaning spray and scrub it really well, you should be fine. When it comes to burying it, we, um, we shouldn't put it anywhere where someone could stumble upon it or where the elements could pick it up. The ground has to be as compact as possible afterwards. Do you own pepper spray?”

Chuuya splutters, very much thrown by the question. “What? Huh? I think, maybe… you know that's a super suspicious thing to ask after I just found you with a gun, right?”

“It's not like that,” Dazai rushes to explain, voice rising in pitch with anxiety. “If we dig a hole, we have to make sure no animals will come along and dig it up, so spraying it with something that will naturally deter them is a good idea. I wouldn't - I wouldn't actually -”

“I know,” Chuuya says, and reaches out to squeeze Dazai's hand. The boy stiffens, then relaxes again, gaze softening slightly. Chuuya's mouth is dry. “I know. f*ck, let's - let's figure this out before Ozaki comes home. We should hurry, before it gets too dark for us to walk there.”

“Wait,” Dazai says, when Chuuya tries to take his hand away. He encircles Chuuya's wrist gently and brings it up towards his face to examine it. “You'll need to put a bandage on this. I'll handle cleaning the gun if you clean your wound, ok? I know it's not deep, but that getting infected would suck and I don't want you to have to explain it to Ozaki.”

Chuuya nods. Then his gaze drifts over to Baki, who's finished eating and is now laying on the floor lazily. “We'll have to bring Baki,” he says with a wince. “Ozaki would hang me at dawn if she came home and I'd left her alone after promising to look after her.”

Dazai's lips form an O. “Alright,” he says, after a moment. “Yeah, that makes sense. We'll just be…. two guys out on a late night dog walk.”

“Yeah,” Chuuya says. “Yeah, we will.”

Despite the confidence in his words, he's never felt more uncertain of anything in his life.

It's fully dark by the time they arrive at the forest.

It's barely a forest - it's a public park, but with only a few scatterings of picnic beaches and barebones wooden maps. This is mostly a place where junkies and drunks hang out on weekends, and most parents avoid taking their kids here. Sometimes, when Chuuya had been almost too young to remember, he'd come here with his family and he'd watched Paul and Ozaki climb trees like monkeys from the safety of his mother's lap. That's nothing but a blur, now.

Dazai has been silent since they started walking. Chuuya figures it's because of Baki, who he's trying to keep on the opposite side from Dazai, but she keeps twisting and turning nonchalantly and every time she gets too close, Dazai squeaks and jumps back before pretending like nothing happened. Chuuya keeps murmuring apologies, and Dazai keeps not replying to them, and the anxiety in his stomach just keeps building. Within his hoodie pocket, the packaged gun seems to grow heavier and heavier.

Dazai had promised the safety was on and that he'd removed all of the bullets, which he's keeping in his pocket right now, wrapped in several layers of bags. Chuuya just has to trust him.

The park gates are locked by now, but there's a small hole for Baki to fit through and it's easy enough for Chuuya to jump over - not so easy for Dazai, which reminds him of their first meeting, in which Dazai tore his shirt climbing the fence to get off the beach. He's better about it now, only slightly slipping but managing to hang on until he drops to the other side. Where Chuuya would ordinarily make a snarky comment, he doesn't bother. He's afraid of saying a word.

They head deep between the trees, away from the paths, until they slow to a stop in an area that Dazai must have deemed good enough. Baki's lead is tied up to a tree, which she seems fine with, content to just lie on the ground and fall half asleep. Chuuya and Dazai get down on the ground too and remove the trowels they'd taken from their pockets, which don't do much but are just going to have to be good enough. Chuuya doesn't even know if Ozaki even owns a shovel. It's enough of a surprise that they own trowels, hidden at the bottom of a cupboard.

They dig in silence for what feels like a hundred years before Chuuya breaks it.

“What's up?” he whispers. There's no one around, but he's whispering anyway. “You've been so quiet.”

Dazai looks up at him with startled eyes. Before they'd left, he'd hidden the bottom half of his face with a black mask, so half of his expression is unreadable. And with one of his eyes covered, Chuuya only has one eye to go off of. It's still enough to show how he's feeling now.

“So have you,” he whispers back. “If I'm being quiet, it's because we're currently buying my illegal suicide weapon in the middle of a public park right now, so excuse me for not being delighted about this situation.”

Chuuya huffs. “Neither of us are happy with this. But like I said, it's better than all the alternatives.”

Dazai mutters something that sounds like for you, maybe, but his voice is too muffled for Chuuya to be sure.

“I'm just -” he starts, and then hesitates. His digging pace slows a little. “Have you ever heard of Chekhov’s gun?”

That was unexpected. Chuuya blinks and shakes his head. “I don't know? It might sound familiar. How is this random other gun relevant to this one?”

“Chekhov's gun is a literary trope,” Dazai says. He keeps his eyes on the hole, which is slowly hollowing out. “It basically references the fact that, in a story, every element of it must be necessary to the greater plot. The example that gives the principle its title is that if a writer features a gun in their story, that must mean that it's important in some way, and that at some point before the end, it has to be fired.”

There's a long period of silence after that.

“Well,” Chuuya says, jamming his trowel against a rock and shimmying it out of place. “That sounds f*cking stupid. Can't there just be a gun for no reason? Why does every element of the story have to be important? Can't some things just be?”

“This is why you're failing your Literature class,” Dazai says, with a note of dry amusem*nt. “It's a method for good story writing. As it is said in the famous quote - “It's wrong to make promises you won't keep.” You don't want to lie to your readers about an object, character or scene's importance to the story. If something is shown, it has to mean something. For example, you shouldn't include a character who will never show up again, because what's the point of that? Everybody and everything is a building block in the tower that is your story. If it's useless, take it out and build around it.” He sighs darkly. “A good writer should never draw attention to something or make it seem as though it may become important if it never will.”

Chuuya tries to meet Dazai's gaze, but he's determinedly staring down at the hole, not looking up. “Dazai,” Chuuya says. “You're forgetting something very important here.”

Finally, Dazai's eyes flicker up to meet his. “What?”

“We're real,” Chuuya says softly. “We aren't characters in some story. You and I are human beings living real, human lives. There's no reason as to why a literary principle should affect us.”

He can see Dazai swallow. “But -”

“No buts,” Chuuya says, and he reaches out to touch Dazai's wrist with his gloved hand. “I mean it. There will be no Chekhoving of this gun.”

Another pause.

“It's actually called Chekhov's gun because of the Russian playwright Anton -”

“No more discussion of literary tropes or principles or anything else. We bury the gun and go home.”

So they do exactly that. By the time the gun and its bullets have been tucked away under layers of compact dirt and sprayed with enough pepper spray to knock out a grown man, an hour and a half has passed since they left the house. They really should be getting back. Ozaki is probably worried.

Chuuya's knees ache from kneeling on the ground, and his wrists do, too, from all the rough ground he'd shoveled. He's sure it'll hurt so much more in the morning. Nevertheless, the deed is done, and Chuuya's never been more grateful to have one less thing to worry about. But when he looks at Dazai, dirt stained and shivering as he is, he doesn't look too well. He's pale, lips pressed together tightly. He looks as though he might faint at any minute.

“Hey,” Chuuya says softly. He reaches his arm out for Dazai to take, letting him choose how he wants to be held. “You look a bit sick. Don't pass out on me.”

“I feel a bit sick,” Dazai says faintly. His voice sounds far away. “Sorry, I - sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Chuuya frowns, alarm bells going on in his mind. “Dazai, you don't have anything to be sorry for.”

“I do,” Dazai says, and grabs at his face despite the dirt coating his gloves. He sounds almost hysterical. “Chuuya, I've ruined your life. I've ruined yours and Ozaki's lives. Even if I manage to find somewhere to stay and leave you alone, this is still something that you could be connected with in any number of year's time and it would be all my fault. I did this to you. I did all of this to you. You're miserable and it could not be any more clearly all my fault.”

“No,” Chuuya says fiercely, and he reaches out to take Dazai's wrists in his hold. “Dazai, Jesus, don't be stupid. If anything - if anything, you've made my life better, and I mean that, Dazai, I really do.”

Dazai laughs harshly, shaking his head. “That's bull and you know it. I don't improve people's lives. I drive them to suicide.”

“I'm certain Odasaku didn't kill himself because of you,” Chuuya says, surprising himself with his own boldness. He doesn't take his eyes away from Dazai's tunnel-dark one, round and wide. “From the way you talk about him, it sounds like the two of you really loved each other. I don't believe what happened to him was your fault.”

Dazai lets out a high pitched sob. “You don't know that! You don't understand! You don't understand what I was like with Odasaku! If you did, you'd realize that I drove him to it!” His breath catches, and he takes a few puffs of air, regulating his voice so he sounds more stable. “He wasn't depressed before he died, Chuuya, he'd never shown suicidal tendencies, but then he just - he just - he h-hung himself in his room, and he never said goodbye, and I know it was because of me. I know it was because I was too difficult and demanding and I wasn't an easy person to be around. He wanted to escape me so badly he killed himself. That's what I do to people, Chuuya. That's what I do to people.”

Chuuya shakes his head slowly. “I don't believe that's true.”

Dazai's gaze shifts somewhere behind Chuuya, his mouth opening and closing before eventually deciding on giving him. He looks so lost. Looks so much younger than he usually acts.

“You'll see,” he murmurs darkly. “You'll see when I do it to you.”

“You won't do it to me,” Chuuya says with a shrug. “It just won't happen. I'm already insane enough without having you in my life.”

“No, you aren't,” Dazai says, and he stares down at him with pursed lips. “You're so normal. You're the most ordinary person I've ever met.”

This time it's Chuuya's turn to be a little speechless, words evading him for way too long. “You think so, huh,” he says once he's found them again. “You'd say that to the guy you just buried a gun with?”

Dazai cracks the smallest grin. It's shaky, but it's real, his first smile since they were discussing movies hours ago. “You got me there, I guess.”

They untie Baki and shake off their gloves and hoods, heading off again back out of the park. Dazai clings to him the whole way back. He really doesn't look well. Despite the fact that they're out of danger, now, he hasn't quite stopped shivering.

They're close to Chuuya's house when he stops walking, and Chuuya turns around just in time to see him vomit on the sidewalk.

“sh*t,” Chuuya curses. He orders Baki to sit and goes back to where Dazai is, folded up and clinging to a lamppost that shines down on him from above as he gags. He steps around the sick pool and reaches out with gentle hands to stroke Dazai's hair out of his face and hold it back behind his ears, keeping it out of the way.

But Dazai flinches harshly at the action. “What are you doing?” he demands roughly, voice trembling badly.

“Holding your hair back,” Chuuya explains, not removing his hands from the back of Dazai's neck. “So you don't get sick on the ends of it.”

“Oh,” Dazai says, and coughs up a glob of thick spit into the puddle on the floor. “That's nice. I've never had anybody do that for me before.”

Once he's done, Chuuya guides him over to sit on a nearby garden wall. Baki nudges his legs, resting her head on his knees and staring up at him expectantly. Chuuya trains his eyes on her, combing his hands through her fur, mind going a mile a minute.

“Just anxiety?” he asks Dazai, after a minute. “Or are you sick? I ought to make sure.”

“I'm fine,” Dazai says, which isn't an answer. He's clutching at his stomach, face contorted in pure misery. “I don't - I don't think I can climb the drain pipe tonight.”

“O-k,” Chuuya says slowly, worry bubbling in his chest. “You didn't hurt yourself and not tell me, did you?”

Dazai lets out a sound that's half a laugh, half a sob. “No,” he says. “It's fine. This is normal for me.”

“Feeling sick from anxiety and stress?” Chuuya asks, because he's really not sure. Dazai has been acting weird for days, ever since that night that he didn't come back to Chuuya's with no warning. He'd wondered if he was sick, but didn't feel like he should ask. “I'm like that too, which sucks, because I really hate throwing up. I know most people do, but it's especially bad for me - I have, what's it called, emetophobia or whatever, I think. Anyway, I wouldn't judge you for it, especially when I know you've been in such a stressful situation and everything. I'm honestly surprised you haven't -”

“It's not anxiety,” Dazai interrupts. He ducks his head downwards so he's completely folded over, nose touching his knees. “I'm just on my…”

His voice trails into a mumble. Chuuya scrunches his eyebrows up. “You're what?”

“I'm on my f*cking period,” Dazai says loudly, sitting back up and staring off into the street. “I'm transgender and I've literally just started my stupid, f*ckass period. Figured you should just… know that now before it gets exposed somehow in a much more embarrassing way.”

Oh. Oh. Chuuya's a f*cking idiot.

“f*ck,” he says aloud, wracking his brain because there is surely a correct thing to say right now and he honestly, truly does not know what it is. He remembers when Sigma came out to them - they'd been in a whole group, then, and it was different because that was the start of Sigma's transition. Dazai's already started his - Chuuya just hadn't realized somehow, and it's too late to say congratulations after he's been presenting as male for so long. sh*t. f*ck.

The longer the silence stretches, the more Dazai shrinks into himself, hugging himself tighter. Chuuya needs to just say something.

“Do you, um,” he starts, and reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. “Do you want me to make you a hot water bottle when we get in?”

It's extremely lame. But when Dazai looks up at him, slightly startled before bursting into peals of laughter, Chuuya knows he's done something right.

“Yeah, actually,” Dazai says through his giggling, wiping at his face. “That would be really nice. Thank you. Seriously, thank you.”

Chuuya's not sure what's so funny. Maybe it's just the pure relief of Chuuya having accepted him, as if that was ever in doubt. And it wasn't. Chuuya likes Dazai regardless of what his body's like. He'd like him no matter what.

What a scary thought that is. That Chuuya really, truly does like Dazai. Likes him in a little more than platonic way, even. He isn't so sure he'd have managed to be so calm about having to bury a gun if it were for anybody else but Dazai.

Dazai's eyes are screwed up with laughter, expression warm and carefree for the first time in hours, and all Chuuya can think is - sh*t. f*ck. Oh, f*ck. Oh, f*cking sh*t. Oh, I'm so f*cking screwed.

He jumps when Dazai finally reaches out and takes his hand in his. He feels warmer than usual.

“Is it ok if we go now?” he asks. The white streetlamp beats down on him, casting his face in shadow, but Chuuya can still see that wide chocolate eye peering out at him. “When I say I'm on my period, I mean, like - I'm pretty sure it just started. Like, right now. And this is not really a place where I want to be dealing with that.”

“Yeah, course,” Chuuya says quickly, leaping back to his feet. He takes Baki's lead in his free hand, guiding her away from Dazai as they set off again. “If you - need anything - um, Zaki’s got stuff in the bathroom. I doubt she'd notice anything go missing, but just in case, I'll go out and get you stuff tomorrow if you need it.”

Dazai laughs, warm and light. “How sweet of a sluggy little puppy to offer to carry out such an embarrassing task for his master. It's alright, though, I have pads and pain medication. They're, ah, in my bag that Arahabaki tore through.”

Chuuya winces. “Sorry. I don't know what made her do that. I've never seen her like that before.”

“Ah, well,” Dazai says with a shrug. “I do pet a lot of cats in my time out of the house, so perhaps she smelled them on the bag and it made her angry.”

A grin spreads across Chuuya's face, and he lets out a laugh too. “It probably was that, oh my god. She can't stand cats. There's one that sits on the wall beside our house sometimes and Baki always goes crazy at it, and it's so funny because the cat's never even fazed. It just sits there and bathes while Baki barks and cries and howls until we make her go inside.”

Dazai snickers. “Now I know to keep my stuff out of reach of her. Although I have to admit I am kind of grateful… that thing was really weighing heavy on my chest and I was super scared because I didn't know what I was going to do about it.” His smile fades. “I really appreciate you helping me. I don't know if I could have managed to get rid of it by myself.”

Chuuya can read in between the lines on that one. I don't know if I could have kept myself from using it.

“You've got me now,” he says, and squeezes Dazai's hand without thinking about it. His cheeks flush pink, and he hopes Dazai doesn't notice now that they're not under the streetlights anymore. “You ought to know by now that I'm kind of a ride-or-die sort of guy.”

“Yeah,” Dazai says, smiling softly. “I did figure that out.”

The lights are on in the living room when they get to Chuuya's house. He unlocks the door, dragging a slightly reluctant Dazai behind him and doing his best to keep Baki from tearing away at top speeds before he can undo her lead. “I'm home,” he calls out. “Dazai's with me. He's spending the night.”

Ozaki's in the living room, splayed across the couch with a book on her knees. She looks rather annoyed when she sees him, although her expression softens when Dazai follows behind him. “Hello, Dazai,” she says warmly, and then turns to Chuuya with a much harsher tone. “Where have you been? You didn't leave a note. We agreed that if one of us was going to be gone, we'd leave a note, always. You didn't even text. Do you have your phone on you?”

“Don't have any data left,” Chuuya says sheepishly, clapping his palms together and bowing. “Please don't kill me, onee-san, I was picking up Dazai and we got sidetracked. I didn't plan to be gone for long.”

Ozaki raises an eyebrow, and Chuuya reads her expression loud and clear. f*ck, he had just made his absence sound so suspicious - but he'd rather his sister thinks that he was getting up to mischief of a romantic nature with Dazai than think he was burying a gun in the woods.

He grins up at her, aware of the way he's flushing. She looks entirely unimpressed, gaze shifting to Dazai, who's still clutching his stomach but tries his best to look polite. A deep sigh escapes her, and Chuuya knows he's won.

“Next time, leave me a note,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Even if you're not leaving for long. That's what all those paper pads on the fridge are for.”

Chuuya laughs. “We're singlehandedly killing all the trees, nee-chan.”

“Oh, that's not us,” she says darkly. She sits up, folding over the corner of the page she's reading like a heathen before sitting it down on the coffee table and getting to her feet. She stretches, wincing at the crack of her bones. “That's the billionaires, dumping oil into the sea. Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk and Mori Ougai are surely having tea right now, laughing as they look down on the little ants that are the people that consume their products, scuttling about on the earth they're slowly destroying.”

Chuuya nods seriously. “Oh, I'm sure.” Then he turns to Dazai and whisper-shouts, “Don't get Ozaki started on Elon Musk or, god forbid, Mori Ougai. She'll never shut up.”

“And for good reason, too,” Ozaki barks, crossing her arms and practically gliding across the floor towards the kitchen. “Did you hear about the new phone line Mori Ougai is putting out?”

Dazai pipes up beside him, voice hoarse. “The what?”

“New phone line,” Ozaki says. She pops her head out of the kitchen, lips pursed. “He's expanding his business, allegedly. Like when Google started making phones. You really haven't heard? Chuuya, I'm disappointed. You need to watch the news more. You can't expect to get every piece of important information about the world from me.”

“But you're such a good source, Zaki,” he calls back cheekily, and then looks back at Dazai and frowns. The boy looks way paler than he did a minute ago, almost green, actually, lips quivering. Chuuya had almost forgotten he wasn't well. He immediately feels like a bit of an asshole.

“Hey,” he whispers to him, causing Dazai to jump. He smiles at him lightly and gestures towards the stairs with his hand. “Go wait upstairs. I'll bring you a hot water bottle. Do you need anything else?”

Dazai shakes his head a little too quickly. “I'm fine,” he says quietly. “Thank you.”

He heads upstairs, and Chuuya slides into the kitchen to watch Ozaki put the kettle on the stove and bring out her good china tea set. She always drinks out of it, even when she's in a rush. “Hey, Zaki,” Chuuya says, bouncing on the balls of his heels. “Can I borrow one of your hot water bottles?”

She turns to look at him with concerned eyes, scanning up and down his body. “Why?” she demands. “Are you sick?”

“No, Zaki,” Chuuya says, swatting away her hands when she tries to come near. “I just cramped my side while I was walking up. Probably a bad stitch or something. I'm not dying, stop playing doctor just because your girlfriend is one!”

“Just checking up on you,” she says, and reaches up to smooth her hands down the sides of Chuuya's face. He allows her, embarrassed by the way he practically melts into the gentle touch. Her expression softens, lips twitching at the corners, but her next words immediately negate that. “Stupid boy that you are. You're old enough to know not to run after you've drunk something. Go into my room, and they're in the first drawer to the right of the door. Mess with my stuff and I remove your toes, one by one, with a blunt katana.”

He nods quickly. “Will keep that in mind.”

Ozaki's room, across from their parents' old room, is very girly and pink, a remnant from when she was young. The bed is piled with plushies, neatly stacked, and the cotton candy wallpaper is covered in as many places as possible by band posters and photographs of her, Yosano and her college friends. There's even a few photos of Mizuki, who looked so much more like Jun and Albatross when she was younger than she does now, old enough to access bright hair dyes and grungy clothes. Her and Ozaki had almost swapped aesthetics through the years - in this particular photo that Chuuya's examining, Ozaki is dripping with eyeliner, lips painted black and clothes dark and torn. He'll never not make fun of her for it.

When he heads back downstairs, water bottle in hand, Ozaki is still in the kitchen. “Let me,” she says, holding out her hand. “I'll fill it. I don't trust you.”

“Nee-chan,” Chuuya groans. “I'm sixteen -”

“And last time I sent you to make me a hot water bottle when I was incapacitated -”

“That was over a year ago!”

“- You gave yourself second degree burns.”

Chuuya glowers. “Whatever,” he says, and shoves the floppy bottle into her hands. “I'll just stand here and wait, then.”

So he does, and hopes Dazai's ok upstairs. He knows that he'd said he didn't need anything else, but he knows that chocolate is something people usually appreciate on their periods, so he grabs a chocolate mousse pot from the fridge and stuffs it in his pocket when Ozaki's not looking. He doesn't like them himself, and he doesn't want her connecting the dots in case Dazai's not ok with her knowing.

Once she's carefully filled the bottle up, not spilling a drop as she seals it carefully, he dives forwards and hugs her tightly before he can change his mind and then pulls away with a cheesy grin.

“Thanks, love you, bye,” he says, and sprints from the room.

Upstairs, he finds Dazai lying in the dark on his side on the futon. He's curled up into a little ball, which isn't unusual for him, but the crumpled expression of pain on his face definitely is. When he sees Chuuya, however, he relaxes with relief, smiling warmly when he's handed the heavy bottle and he can squeeze it tightly against his stomach.

“What a good doggy,” Dazai grins, which seems to mean that he's out of that weird mood from earlier and is finally back to acting like himself again. “Running around doing tricks for his master like that. I ought to get him a treat.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever makes you feel better,” Chuuya grumbles as he stalks over to his bed and is about to remove his hoodie before remembering. “Oh. Got you this, too. It's one of Ozaki's mousse pots, but I don't like them, so if she notices it's missing she'll probably think she ate it and forgot about it.”

Dazai accepts it with wide eyed grace. “I can't believe you've resorted to gaslighting your sister,” he snickers. “Thanks. Spoon, perhaps?”

Chuuya makes a noise, then palms his face. “I didn't grab a f*cking spoon. Jesus Christ.”

“Ah, it's just fine,” Dazai says, and to show just how fine it is, he peels the lid off of the cup, tips his head back and starts squeezing the chocolate into his mouth. A small chunk of it drips onto his cheek, and he starts wiggling his tongue around wildly, trying to get it off.

Chuuya can't help but laugh, wheezing as he collapses against his bed. “I could have just went to get you one!” he cackles. “For f*ck's sake. You're such a child.”

The stairs suddenly creak loudly, and both himself and Dazai freeze before relaxing as they remember that Dazai's allowed to be here now. Both of them listen as Ozaki goes into her room and clicks the door behind her.

Dazai giggles softly behind his hand. He really is good looking, Chuuya notices, especially when he's smiling in that way that squints his eyes and scrunches up his nose. It makes his heart skip weirdly, and he sticks out his tongue at the other boy to try and make it go away.

“Eh?” Dazai says, making a face. “What's that for?”

“You suck,” Chuuya simply says. “Dazai, come over here. I'm not letting you sleep on the futon near the floor while you're in pain.”

This seems to actually surprise Dazai. His lips part, face flooding with pink. “What? I'm not gonna make you sleep on the futon.”

“It's my room,” Chuuya says indignantly. “I can sleep on the futon if I so wish.”

Dazai looks a little embarrassed, pretending to scratch his nose so he can hide his mouth with his hand. “I don't - I could get blood on your bedcovers.”

“That's fine,” Chuuya shrugs. “I don't care. Once I banged my mouth on my bedside table in my sleep and bled all over the place and then just went back to sleep. There's probably still bloodstains on my mattress from that.”

Dazai visibly swallows. “That's different.”

“How so?” Chuuya challenges. “Tell me how that's different. It's just blood either way.”

He watches Dazai fight with himself, before finally getting slowly to his feet and dragging himself over to Chuuya's bed, scowling and carrying his blankets and pillow with him. “Fine, then,” he says, and plops down on the bed beside him. “If my dog's so eager, I suppose I'll give him what he wants. But if I bleed on the bed, it isn't my fault, let it be known.”

He slumps back next to Chuuya, buried in all his blankets, and lets his head fall against Chuuya's shoulder. Chuuya's cheeks burn, but he lets it happen. “I wouldn't have been mad at you anyway. I'm not a total ass.”

Dazai's face is hidden from his view, but his voice is light. “Thanks for not freaking out about - about any of - anything.”

Chuuya glances out the window. It's pitch black out. “It's ok, Dazai, seriously. I know that you would never have used that thing to hurt me. It was just - a bit insane. But I know you wouldn't have.”

“You're a little too trustworthy,” Dazai tells him. “I could have killed you a hundred times by now if I wanted to, gun or not.”

He lowers his voice when he says the word gun, as if Ozaki could possibly hear. Chuuya huffs out a laugh. “I could have killed you, too. Believe me, I've thought about it so many goddamn times.”

Dazai twists his head around and smiles up at him, and God, Chuuya's so f*cked. “So why hasn't Chuuya done it yet?”

Chuuya's mouth is so dry. He bites down on his lip, pain blooming. “‘Cause I like you,” he says nonchalantly. “Don't get me wrong, you're so f*cking annoying. But I like you. I wouldn't keep you around if I didn't.”

They're quiet for a moment.

“Thanks for not being weird about me, either,” Dazai mumbles. He sounds tired. “Being trans, I mean.”

“I don't care about stuff like that,” Chuuya scoffs. “Most of my friends are LGBT. I'm LGBT.”

“Not every queer person is cool about trans people,” Dazai says, and makes a motion that is probably supposed to be a shrug, but is lost in the sea of blankets. “That's why I don't tell people. I only started actually presenting as a guy after - I ran away.”

Chuuya blinks, lips parting softly. “Oh. Seriously?” A thought hits him. “Am I the first person you told?”

Dazai snorts. “No. Don't flatter yourself, chibi. Odasaku knew.” His tone darkens. “He could just never use the correct pronouns for me because I couldn't let my dad find out. And he, you know, died before I picked a new name.”

“I'm sorry,” Chuuya murmurs, and Dazai only grunts in response, clearly done with the conversation now.

Chuuya leans back against the pillows, sliding further down on the bed and half-dragging Dazai with him. They find themselves both laying on their backs, only slightly propped up and leaning into one another. Dazai's eyes are closed contentedly and despite the previous conversation, there is a small, relieved smile on his lips.

Chuuya hums, unable to stop his lips from twitching upwards at the sight. “Do you wanna watch Terminator now?”

Dazai groans loudly, eyes still closed. “I thought I got out of that.”

“Hah?” Chuuya cries, elbowing Dazai's arm gently. “You agreed to watching it!”

“That was then,” Dazai says, although he's still smiling. “This is now. I'm a different man than I was then.”

“Different, my ass,” Chuuya scoffs. “Are you just gonna go to sleep?”

Dazai snorts. “I wish it was that easy. No, I'm gonna sit here and complain for a few more hours until I eventually pass out from pure agony. You can just leave me to that if you want.”

Chuuya shakes his head. “f*ck no. I'll sit here and endure you for as long as I have to.”

Dazai shuffles closer to him, lying against his chest. “What a good doggy you are. Fine, we can put it on. But if it sucks then I'm never letting you pick the movie again.”

“Huh!” Chuuya grunts. “As if. This is my house.”

But he puts the movie on. The heat from Dazai's hot water bottle burns into Chuuya's hip, but he doesn't care, even though he's surely sweating beneath his pants because of it. As long as Dazai's comfortable, and it looks like he is, cozied up against Chuuya as he is. It makes Chuuya's face burn, and he hopes that if Dazai notices, he dismisses it as being because of the water bottle. In the silence of the room, the opening begins to play, and Dazai lets out a soft little sigh.

Without really thinking about it, Chuuya raises a hand to stroke Dazai's hair. It's fluffy and smells a bit like coconut. Chuuya's so f*cked.

However, after a few minutes, he's too engrossed in the movie to even think about the events of the evening or the pretty boy splayed across his chest. It takes until the police arrest Sarah and Reese before Chuuya even notices that, despite his protests, Dazai has fallen fast asleep against him.

Great. So now Chuuya's stuck here.

Somehow, he's not as upset about that as he maybe should be.

When he wakes, Dazai's eyes are already open, although he hasn't made any moves to get off of Chuuya's chest. “Morning,” he says without taking his eyes off his phone once he notices Chuuya stirring. “You drool in your sleep.”

Chuuya whines and pushes himself up into a sitting position, which knocks Dazai off him and flat onto the bed. “Hey!” the younger boy shrieks. “Give me some warning next time!”

“Guh,” Chuuya groans in response. He rubs his eyes and glances over at his clock. “Oh, man. I was having such an awesome dream.”

Dazai glances up at him curiously. His face is covered in lines from where Chuuya's shirt had been pressed against him, and his hair is sticking up in all directions. It's cute. “What was your dream about?”

Chuuya shrugs. Whatever it had been is already leaving his mind, like grains of sand blowing away on the wind.

“Think I fought a dragon,” he grunts. “You were there too. There was, like, some massive tower, and everything was super fuzzy, and I'm pretty sure…” He squints. “I'm pretty sure Ryuunosuke was there too, for some reason? Wearing a weird black costume. And also… Arnold Schwarzenegger. I vividly remember that part.”

“Wow,” Dazai says, raising his eyebrows. “No more movies before bed for Chuuya.”

“Probably a good idea,” Chuuya admits, before swinging his legs around the bed and stretching. “Do you want me to make you another hot water bottle before I go to school?”

Dazai blinks, gaze soft. “I'd like that.”

Chuuya nods, trying not to smile. “Breakfast, too?”

“My dog's making me breakfast in bed?” Dazai says. His eyepatch has slipped off during the night, Chuuya notices. He probably shouldn't have slept with it on, but Chuuya didn't want to wake him. “What a good boy he is.”

Chuuya raises an eyebrow as he gets to his feet. “Have you noticed that you increase the amount of bad dog jokes you make whenever you're embarrassed or feel awkward about the fact that somebody else is taking care of you?”

Dazai flinches. “I'm not embarrassed. I'm not even capable of feeling that kind of emotion.”

“Uh huh,” Chuuya says, and reaches out to take the water bottle off of Dazai's stomach. His fingers accidentally brush the bare skin of his stomach underneath his hoodie, and he swallows roughly, hoping Dazai didn't notice. “Whatever you say.”

He makes Dazai a new hot water bottle and some toast with tea, reading the note that Ozaki left on the fridge as he does so. It's just one of her usual ones, telling him she's left for college. Chuuya smiles as he heads back upstairs. For some reason, despite all the sh*t that happened last night, he's in a weirdly good mood.

Dazai accepts Chuuya's offerings with grace. “This is barely toast,” he whines in lieu of thanks. “It's just warm bread.”

“Suck it up and eat it,” Chuuya says, rolling his eyes. “I'm going for a shower. You should try and do that too sometime before Ozaki comes back, too.”

“I don't need too,” Dazai mumbles. Despite the large plate that Chuuya gave him to lean over, he's eating the toast over the bed, spilling crumbs across the pillows. “My hair's not even greasy yet.”

“You should not be monitoring whether or not you need to take a shower by how greasy your hair is.”

“I'm depressed, Chuuya!”

“Still.” Chuuya grabs his uniform and heads out of the room. “Think about it!”

After his shower, he heads in to say goodbye to Dazai while rapidly drying his hair. “Don't die while I'm away, will you?”

“Try not to,” Dazai says. He's curled up in the bed with the blankets all slung over him, his eyes barely peeping out. “If you come home to a corpse, bury me at sea. Actually, cremate me and sprinkle my ashes at sea. That'd be nice.”

“Will do,” Chuuya says, and leaves before Dazai can go on about his death any longer.

School passes slowly, time trickling by like melting treacle. Chuuya feels like his mind is mush by the time he's trudging home, dragging his feet in the hot summer sun. He's so close to being done with all this. Just a couple more weeks.

Ozaki isn't home yet, and Dazai is still in Chuuya's bed, looking as though he hasn't moved an inch all day. His eyes are shut, and for a moment, Chuuya thinks he's asleep. Then Dazai looks up, blinking against the sunlight that's flooding the room, and yawns. He's taken off his eye bandage, Chuuya notices with a heart stopping slam to the chest. He looks much more symmetrical like this. Two chocolate eyed peer out of the blankets, and Chuuya has to bite his lip to stop himself from saying something he might regret.

“Chuuya's home,” Dazai says, with fake excitement in his voice. “Hooraaay.”

“Shut up,” Chuuya replies, on reflex. “Did you shower?”

Dazai nods. “I'm all clean now. Chuuya doesn't need to worry about me making his bed dirty.”

Chuuya just rolls his eyes at this. “Sit up, man, I'll make you a new hot water bottle if you need it.”

A small smile twitches at Dazai's lips when Chuuya says this. “Are you this good to Ozaki when she has her periods?”

“Duh,” Chuuya says, accepting the bottle when Dazai hands him it. “Ozaki always has me running around after her when she's not well. I'm used to this sh*t by now.”

He brings up a fresh water bottle and tea, for the second time today - take that, Ozaki, I'm capable of using the kettle - and then slides onto the bed next to Dazai. “Wanna play a game or something?”

Dazai shrugs, expression tight. “I might not be a lot of fun today. I feel kind of like I've been run over by a train and then peeled off the ground, swung around and slammed against the floor again.”

“Very specific,” Chuuya says with a grin. “That's fine, I'm not demanding your company. You can just sit there and complain to your heart's content while I play something in the background.”

Dazai sighs, eyelids fluttering shut. “That sounds like heaven.”

So that's exactly what they do. True to his word, Dazai doesn't talk very much, only occasionally letting pained noises slip or whining about something to break the silence. Chuuya lets him, losing himself in his game as the light shifts around in the room. He can see clouds gathering outside, darkening the sky. This must be the storm Piano Man was warning them all about at school today - he'd made them all promise not to go out once it started getting cloudy in case of lightning strikes.

“Ooh,” Dazai hums, his first words in a long while. “Water types are boosted in the rain. Maybe I'll finally catch a decent IV weather boost Magikarp.”

“You have to be aware that your words are gibberish to me,” Chuuya says. He doesn't take his eyes off of the match he's participating in. For once, he's close to winning. “Like, you seriously have to know this by now.”

Dazai nods, letting out a soft giggle. “I know. I'd explain if you asked.”

“I don't wanna know,” Chuuya tells him. “It's too complicated for me.”

After a few more minutes, Dazai gasps. “Oh my god. I forgot it was raid hour. I need to do Heatran raids. Chuuya, have I told you that there's a gym right outside your window?”

“You have,” Chuuya says tiredly. “On many an occasion. What happened to you being quiet, huh? It was so peaceful.”

Dazai scowls, then suddenly moves to try and smack the controller out of Chuuya's hands. Luckily, Chuuya's faster than he is, and moves away before he can touch him.

“Not this time,” he says with a mischievous grin. “I'm gonna win this match.”

Right as he says this, he hears a phone start to go off. It takes him a moment to realize its his, sitting on the bed next to him. “Dazai, will you see who's calling me? I can't take my eyes off of this.”

He listens as Dazai rustles around, looking for the phone, then pauses. “It's labeled as DO NOT ANSWER in all caps?”

Chuuya's fingers slip off of the controller, and he nearly drops it. As it is, his character on screen fumbles, and he has to slam a few buttons to stop himself from being instantly killed.

“Ah-h,” he says, once he's no longer in virtual danger. “That's my - my dentist. I've been avoiding appointments for ages, that's probably what the problem is.”

He worries that Dazai won't believe it, but then he snickers, shaking his head. “Chuuya's got rotten teeth, how terrible.”

“Don't wanna hear it from you, metal mouth,” Chuuya says, and promptly shoves the controller into Dazai's lap. “Here. Play for me while I take this. Don't let me die.”

He grabs his phone and speeds out of the room, with Dazai's stunned cries of, “What? Chuuya, what? What game even is this? I don't know what I'm doing!” following behind him.

Heart pounding, he goes into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him before sliding up to accept the call on the last ring. He really shouldn't. He doesn't know what's compelling him to when he doesn't have to. Silently, Chuuya slides to the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest, waiting.

It's a moment before the line crackles. “Hello?”

Chuuya says nothing.

“Chuuya? Is this actually Chuuya this time? Come on, don't make me waste my money, international calls are so expensive.”

Again, Chuuya says nothing.

“Man.” He hears the person on the other end moving around before setting their phone down somewhere. “You really are the most stubborn person I've ever known, you know that?”

Swallowing, Chuuya breaks the silence. “I know.”

There's a pregnant pause, and then the caller sighs in obvious relief. “Chuuya. Hey. I almost didn't recognize your voice there.”

Chuuya stares off into the distance with a blank stare, watching the wind whip the trees around outside the window. “Well, maybe you would if you called more.”

Another sigh. “I - it's not like I don't try, Chuuya. I called you on Christmas, and you didn't answer. I called you on New Years, and you didn't answer. I called you on your birthday, and you did answer, but instead of actually talking to me, you just put Baki's dog bowl on top of your phone and left her alone with it so that all I could hear was really loud, really obnoxious slurping and crunching until I eventually gave up.”

Chuuya snickers at this. “Hah, I did do that, didn't I? Should I go downstairs and bring Arahabaki up here with me? I'm sure she'd love to talk to you.”

“Chuuya.”

Chuuya ignores the pleading tone, annoyance swirling in his gut. “So what's the special occasion this time? It's just a regular Wednesday as far as I can figure.”

“Does there have to be a special occasion for me to call you?”

“Uh, yeah.” Chuuya rolls his eyes, even though nobody can see it. “That's how you've always done this. You only call me on New Years or my birthday or whatever because you feel bad about missing out on sh*t.” He holds the phone away from his face to give himself a moment to breathe shakily, closing his eyes before bringing it back. “So what do you want?”

“I just - wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“Just because. It's been… a while.”

“I don't want to talk to you.”

“You answered the phone.”

That's true. Chuuya did answer the phone. Nausea roils grossly in his stomach, and he hugs himself tightly to try and nullify it.

It's a moment before either of them speak again. Chuuya considers just hanging up. His mind is moving so fast that he feels a little faint. Faintly, rain starts tapping against the window, building up a rhythmic pace as it dances across the glass.

“How are things?” the caller asks timidly. “Has anything new happened with you?”

Chuuya shrugs. Blood pounds in his ears, anxiety thrumming in his chest. “I dunno.”

“Chuuya -”

“I'm bisexual,” Chuuya says hollowly. He opens his eyes again to see that the room has gone dark with the storm outside. “You're the last person to find out, just so you know.”

“Oh!” The caller sounds shocked, but delighted at the same time. “Chuuya, that's wonderful. I'm really glad you told me.”

“Uh huh,” Chuuya says. “Again, you're the last to know. Everyone who actually stuck around in my life and really matters to me already know.”

“Chuuya -”

“Paul.”

The rain continues to beat down on the window. The vent on the wall clatters with the force of the wind.

A sudden, small laugh from the other end of the lines reaches his ears. “I bet Mom and Dad would be delighted to find out that all three of us are queer, ha. Although I'm sure if they heard you were bi, they'd praise the lord at the fact that they've still got a chance at grandkids.”

Chuuya stays deliberately quiet, letting Paul think about that one on his own.

“Ok, that was dumb,” he says after a bit. “Mom and Dad - they don't know, do they?”

Chuuya heaves out a sigh. “Are you f*cking stupid? No. How would I have told them? Maybe if I sent a letter via carrier pigeon and instructed it to pluck one of eyes out, they might pay some attention.”

“Don't be so harsh on them,” Paul pleads. “They - they only want -”

A rush of pure, hot anger hits Chuuya square in the chest. “Only want what, Paul?” he snaps, sitting up against the wall and balling up a fist. “What's best for all their children? I'm sure. Tell me why they don't call, then. Tell me why they haven't made an effort once since they left me and Ozaki.”

“It's not like you try either, Chuuya,” Paul says, and he suddenly sounds annoyed, which makes Chuuya angrier because he has no f*cking right to be. “You don't call either. You don't bother. You don't even pick up my calls half the time, even when I'm trying.”

Chuuya breathes in, and out, and holds the device away from his face again because he needs to calm down before he ends up with another broken phone. He smashed his old one the last time he spoke to Paul. Ozaki will be upset if he does it again. She won't show it, but she will be. That's how she always is.

Eventually, he brings the phone back to his mouth, speaking into it slowly. “I am sixteen years old,” he says. “I'm not even an adult now, three years after you guys f*cked off and left us. Reaching out to my sh*tty f*cking family members isn't my responsibility. And if you'll recall, Paul, it took you a f*cking year to call either of us after you left because you were so f*cking ashamed of being such an asshole. Do you know how hard Ozaki cried after she finished talking to you, then? She was so upset she physically threw up, and even then she was telling me that she was fine, that I should leave her be and not worry about her problems.” His voice trembles with rage. “You guys did that to her. Not me. I was the one here for her. You're the one who gets to gallivant off with our sh*tty, useless parents and not think about the consequences of what you did -”

“Ah! Chuuya! Chuuya! You'll never guess what I just caught!”

Chuuya jolts, eyes flying open as he hears Dazai's joyful shouts from the hallway where he's come out to speak to him. He cracks open the bathroom door and stares ar him with wide, expectant what do you want? eyes, gesturing towards his phone. Dazai grimaces, tugging at his collar and swallowing exaggeratedly, and Chuuya, despite everything, has to resist the urge to laugh. He watches Dazai disappear back into the bedroom, tail hanging between his legs.

“Who was that?” he hears Paul say, sounding confused. “That didn't sound like Tro- Albatross. Have you got a new friend round?”

Chuuya clicks the door shut again and digs his nails deeply into the palm of his hand. He can't even hear the storm anymore, not over the rushing of his own ears, and his vision has gone so red it's all he can see. He's lost the ability to be calm that Ozaki had trained into him so very well. He doesn't care anymore.

“Yeah, that's one of my new friends,” he says, trembling badly. “And I hate you so f*cking much I told him you were dead, you total jackass, and I wish it was true, too.”

Then he ends the call and slumps back against the wall.

-

“Hey,” Dazai says sheepishly when Chuuya reenters the room, taking the time to make sure the door is closed behind him. “Sorry for shouting when you were on your call, I entirely forgot that that was why you'd left the room. My brain doesn't function very well on the best of days. I'm kind of like a goldfish. Did you know that goldfish can only remember up to three -”

Then Chuuya turns around and Dazai's smile slips, his eyes flashing with alarm. “Were - have you been crying?”

“Pshaw,” Chuuya scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “No, I get super bad allergies in the summer. It's annoying because it makes my eyes water like nothing else, and people think I'm crying all the time when I'm not. Ozaki gets it too. She complains about it all the time.”

Dazai still looks suspicious, but he relaxes a little, just enough. “Alright. What was your call about?”

“Nothing important,” Chuuya says, and flops back down on the bed next to Dazai. “What were you shouting about, huh? What did you catch?”

Dazai claps his hands over his cheeks. “Oh, I'm embarrassed to say, now!”

“You are not,” Chuuya scoffs, reaching out to punch his arm. “What happened to embarrassment not being an emotion you could feel?”

Dazai sticks his tongue out and blows a childish raspberry at him. “Shut up! Look at what I caught.”

He shows Chuuya his screen. It's a weird red creature surrounded by sparkles.

When he glances up at Dazai, he's grinning. “Caught a shiny Heatran at the gym outside your window.”

Chuuya raises his eyebrows. “Wow. Impressive, I think?”

“Yes, impressive,” Dazai says triumphantly. He smiles at his screen like it's displaying a photograph of a loved one. “It's so lovely… oh, you died in your game, by the way. I was trying to figure out the controls and I accidentally dropped a grenade that blew you up. Sorry about that! Anyway, now that you're dead and you can pay attention to me again, I wanted to show you - Chuuya? Hey, Chuu-ya, where did you go?”

But Chuuya's not really listening. Chuuya's staring out the window, watching the rain fly diagonally by the glass, wind roaring as it crashes the trees together and whips the bins off the sidewalk, sending them careening into the road. It sounds like someone screaming, long and pitched and never ending. It sounds like evil approaching.