I can't go back anymore. They're not going to just kick the bucket,
The mocking clown and the eyes of the prodigy.
—Bouto
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
September 2014
He was supposed to be asleep.
He knew he should have been, but it was lucky he wasn't. If he had been, he'd never have seen his mother hold a candle to the gasoline-soaked curtains of their dining room before fleeing the house along with his father and all of their most prized possessions.
Shuji almost stayed. He was so close to letting himself die right then, die the way his parents wanted him to. He was cursed—a demon, a prodigy, a monster.
In the end he only left because there were easier ways to die. He was the only survivor, according to everyone else. Shuji knew better, though. He knew his parents lived, just as he knew that despite his own survival, Tsushima Shuji had died that day.
Dazai Osamu left town the next day. He never went back.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
It wasn't often that Dazai dreamed of his past. When he did, it was in short flashes—the smell of gasoline, the heat of the flames that singed his pants when he finally made himself escape the burning house, the shrill sound of the sirens that followed—
Dazai found himself throwing up in the bathroom again. He was careful not to wake Chuuya this time. His mouth tasted like a disgusting mixture of bile and salt, and his vision blurred. It took him longer than it should have to figure out why.
He hadn't cried in so long. Sure, there were times when Dazai broke down inwardly, but he seldom let it show. Even when he was alone, staying in control of his emotional expression was a necessity. Dazai didn't want to know what would happen if he were to fall apart.
In the morning, it took a herculean amount of effort to push himself out of bed. He managed it in the end, though he made it to psychology more than a few minutes late, and likely looking as if he'd crawled out of his own grave. Dazai knew his eyes resembled those of a dead fish—a mackerel, if he wanted to be specific—and his clothes were in disarray and he just didn't care.
He sat stiffly in his usual seat behind Chuuya as Kouyou announced, "Today we'll be covering ADHD and ASD, otherwise known as Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and Autism Spectrum Disorder. The two have several similarities, and a myriad of differences, but both are under the umbrella term of neurodivergence. Essentially, autistic and ADHD brains function differently, both in social situations and thought processes."
Chuuya was tapping his pen, which made it extremely difficult for Dazai to focus. He was stimming as well, but he saw no reason why Chuuya had to be so loud about it.
"ADHD," Kouyou continued, "is characterized by forgetfulness, inability to focus, emotional dysregulation, disorganization, time blindness and stimming, along with many other things. Autism is more involved with social interactions and connections, which means it's often misdiagnosed as social anxiety. Stimming is also an autism trait, and sensory issues are a factor for both autism and ADHD."
Kouyou went to her computer and opened a slideshow. On the first slide was a venn diagram of ADHD and autistic traits. "As you can see—"
Dazai accidentally zoned out for a while. He was just so tired.
"Insomnia can be a trait in both—"
Dazai wished he could listen to music right now. His head was so loud.
"Stimming is often the result of anxiety, restlessness, or even exhaustion—"
Dazai's leg bounced idly beneath the table.
When Kouyou finally dismissed them, Chuuya stayed back as the room emptied out. "You didn't tell me you had a nightmare last night," he accused.
"What makes you think I did?" Dazai retorted.
Chuuya looked annoyed. "It's obvious. Your mackerel eyes are even more dead than usual today."
That was almost enough to make Dazai smile, but not quite. "As usual, your powers of observation astound me," he said sarcastically. He turned to go, but Chuuya grabbed his shoulder and spun him back around.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" He snapped.
"I didn't realize I was supposed to," Dazai said, tone icy.
Chuuya's hand dropped from his shoulder. "You really don't know how to ask for help, huh?" He remarked.
"I don't need help," Dazai replied as he turned away. Chuuya let him leave, which was a relief. He was too close already. Dazai didn't need him, and he certainlydidn't want him.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
Dazai slept slightly better Monday night, but somehow felt even more drained in the morning. Chuuya walked him to anatomy without a word. Dazai didn't say anything, either; Chuuya looked annoyed already, and Dazai wasn't in the mood to get punched (crazy, right?).
They took their usual seats in the anatomy lab a few minutes before class started. Yosano showed up soon after and went to the back of the room, stopping by Dazai and Chuuya's table. "You look awful," she observed.
Dazai attempted a charming smile that came out closer to a grimace. "You wound me, Yosano-sensei!"
"He hasn't been sleeping well," Chuuya informed Yosano.
Yosano glared at Dazai. "Dazai."
"Yes, Yosano-sensei?" Dazai replied innocently.
"Last time I saw you, you told me you were sleeping better," Yosano said, eyes narrowed. "That was Sunday."
Dazai waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, well, things are constantly changing, haven't you heard? Life really is nothing but a series of changes, the final change being our eventual deaths—hey!" Dazai yelped as Yosano conjured a spray bottle out of nowhere and nailed Dazai in the face. "I wasn't even talking about suicide this time!"
"You were thinking about it, though," Yosano accused.
"Well, yeah, but when am I not—stop that!" Dazai exclaimed, blocking his face as Yosano squirted him in the face a second time.
"So this is how you've trained him, huh?" Chuuya said to Yosano.
"Yes, this one responds particularly well to punishment," Yosano replied, smirking.
Dazai frowned. "Not true," he insisted. "I prefer rewards, thank you very much."
"How about your reward is not getting sprayed in the face?" Yosano suggested. "You'd have to earn that, of course."
Mori chose that moment to arrive, so Yosano gave Dazai one final warning glance before retreating to the front of the room.
Dazai had therapy at one, so he went to the cafe to grab a coffee before heading to Fukuzawa's a few minutes early. Fukuzawa opened the door nearly the moment Dazai knocked, and then opened it wide enough for him to enter.
"How are you this week, Dazai-kun?" Fukuzawa asked as Dazai took a seat.
"Fine," Dazai replied reflexively. At Fukuzawa's skeptical look he added, "Tired. Haven't been sleeping well, I suppose."
"I believe that is somewhat normal for this stage of exposure therapy," Fukuzawa told him. "I'm sorry you have to deal with it, though."
Dazai waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine. Not that much worse than usual, really."
Fukuzawa nodded and changed the subject. "What would you like to start with today, Dazai?"
"Can we just get into it?" Dazai forced himself to ask. "I don't really want to wait any longer."
"Of course," Fukuzawa replied. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"
"Sure," Dazai heard himself say.
Fukuzawa gave him a level look before asking, "Regarding the trauma, can I ask first how many times this has happened to you?"
Dazai hummed. "Depends on how you define 'this'."
Fukuzawa looked thoughtful. "Since Japan's laws are so outdated, I tend to base these sorts of definitions on those of other countries. The U.S., for all of its flaws, is somewhat better when it comes to defining rape and sexual assault. That's not to say that rapists are actually charged, of course."
Of course. "And what are their definitions?" Dazai asked.
"There's a variety of qualifications, as you might say," Fukuzawa answered. "Being intoxicated or inebriated, especially for an underage person, is usually grounds to consider a sexual encounter as assault or rape. In Japan, if the intoxication is voluntary on the part of the victim, then it's often not defined as rape. Also, in the U.S., a legal adult cannot have consensual sex with a minor, or anyone under the age of 18. In some states, if the victim is 16 or 17, the perpetrator must be at least 5 or 10 years older than the victim for the act to be considered sexual assault or rape. Being pressured, coerced or threatened into having sex—and of course being forced in any physical capacity—is considered rape as well."
"So, hypothetically," Dazai started, "if a 17 year old had sex with a 22 year old—"
"That would be statutory rape, yes," Fukuzawa confirmed.
Dazai wasn't too surprised by that answer, or even disturbed. Mostly, he was annoyed that Oda and Ango had been right about that. "Huh."
"Dazai-kun," Fukuzawa said seriously, "is that hypothetical situation based on something you experienced?"
"No comment!" Dazai chirped. Fukuzawa gave him another look, and he amended, "Okay, fine, you got me. I guess that probably happened. I mean, she might have been 21. College seniors can be either, right?"
"Does that make it any better?" Fukuzawa asked.
Not really. "Maybe."
"And was that your only encounter?" Fukuzawa pressed.
"Of that sort, yes," Dazai replied.
"But not in general," Fukuzawa stated.
"I mean, I guess I got pressured a lot," Dazai said flippantly. "And I was usually pretty drunk. I said yes in the end, though."
Fukuzawa frowned. "Here, that would not be considered rape or sexual assault," he informed Dazai. "However, I disagree with those laws."
Dazai tilted his head. "I think I might, too," he said honestly.
"Can you tell me more about those experiences?" Fukuzawa asked. "If you're comfortable with that."
Dazai wasn't really, but he knew it had to be done. "Yeah, sure. Do we have to cover them all today?"
"We can start with the one you already mentioned," Fukuzawa suggested. "Tell me more about it, to start."
"Okay," said Dazai. He took a deep breath and began.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
On Wednesday, Oda visited Dazai after he got out of class close to three. He didn't so much as look at, let alone comment on, the mess on Dazai's side of the room.
Chuuya had returned from class a little while ago, so he was sprawled on his bed, earbuds in while he studied for their upcoming anatomy quiz. He glanced up briefly when Oda entered before returning to his work.
"How are you?" Oda asked Dazai as he seated himself at Dazai's desk.
"Do you want the short answer or the long answer?" Dazai replied.
"Whichever you want to tell me," Oda answered.
Dazai could have easily given him the short answer, but he knew he'd feel guilty lying to Oda. Damn you, Odasaku. "Exposure therapy is hard," Dazai whined. "I just want it to get easier already."
"I'm sure it will in time," Oda replied.
Dazai shrugged. "Maybe. Anyway, what's up with you?" In his peripheral he saw Chuuya sit up and remove his earbuds, but he forced himself to ignore his roommate.
"One of my old teammates asked me if I'd return to the rec team," Oda told him. "I said no."
"Don't you miss volleyball?" Dazai asked him, which caught Chuuya's attention. Oops.
"Wait a second," Chuuya interjected, looking at Oda. "You played volleyball?"
Oda glanced at Chuuya and nodded. "For many years. I haven't played in a few now, though."
"He was really good," Dazai chimed in. "Or he used to be, anyway. What was it that they called you again?"
Oda made a face. "My teammates called me 'Japan's Cannon'. I had a powerful serve, I suppose."
Chuuya's face lit up. "Can you still do it?"
"My serve?" Oda clarified, and Chuuya nodded. "I haven't tried it in years, so I'm not really sure."
Chuuya looked contemplative, which was never a good sign. "Hmmmm."
" Hmmmm," Dazai mimicked mockingly. "What kind of half-baked idea has your tiny doggie brain come up with this time, little fairy?"
Chuuya scowled. "Shut it, mackerel. I was just thinking it would be cool to try and receive one of Oda-san's serves, that's all."
"Are you a libero?" Oda asked Chuuya.
Chuuya eyed him warily. "Yeah. Did shitty Dazai tell you or are you just guessing that because of my height?"
"Neither," Oda replied. "You immediately brought up receiving, and you have very muscular calves, along with a balanced posture, which reminds me of most liberos I have met. I'm willing to bet you're good at it, too."
Chuuya looked surprised, and then proud. "Good guess. I'm—"
"Number two in the country," Dazai cut in, rolling his eyes. "We get it, you're a libero expert."
"Shut it," Chuuya snapped before turning back to Oda hopefully. "So? Will you serve for me?"
"Does he have a choice?" Dazai muttered.
"I will," Oda replied after a moment of consideration. "I might be a bit rusty, though."
Chuuya's eyes flashed. "That's fine, just give it your best shot," he assured Oda.
Dazai groaned. "I can't believe you agreed to this."
Oda shrugged. "It might be fun."
Ten minutes later, Dazai watched from the sidelines as Chuuya stood across the net from Oda, knees bent and arms in an odd, T-rex like position. He looked stupid.
"You look stupid," Dazai told Chuuya.
"Shut up," Chuuya growled, giving Dazai his most threatening glare.
On the other side of the net, Oda waited a few paces behind the line until Chuuya said, "Ready." Then he tossed the ball up high and took two quick steps before launching himself into the air. His arm drew back and then slammed abruptly into the ball. It happened so fast that Dazai could barely follow the action.
It should have been a service ace—a point scored by a serve alone, according to Oda—but it wasn't, because as soon as the ball crossed the net, Chuuya was there. The ball rebounded off of his prepared forearms and went up, spinning softly. It flew in an arc and hit the ground just before the net.
"Doesn't that mean he loses?" Dazai pointed out. "It landed on his side."
Chuuya huffed. "I was getting it to the setter?"
Dazai squinted at him. "That's a lame excuse. There's clearly no one there."
Chuuya gritted his teeth. "Well, maybe I wanted to pretend there was!"
"That was a beautiful receive," Oda cut in, looking at Chuuya. "You are very talented."
Chuuya puffed up, looking satisfied. "Thanks," he replied. Then he sneered at Dazai. "I'd like to see you try to receive a serve with half that force," he taunted.
"You're right, I probably can't," Dazai replied.
"You're not even gonna try?" Chuuya pushed.
Dazai stepped forward into his space. "Why, so you can mock me?" He said pointedly. "Or does Chuuya just want to watch me in action?"
Chuuya scowled. "To mock you, obviously."
"I will go easy on you," Oda offered.
Dazai pouted. "Odasaku," he whined. "You're supposed to be on my side!"
"Scared you'll look dumb?" Chuuya taunted.
"I know I will, which is why I won't do it," Dazai said, annoyed.
Chuuya stepped closer so that their faces were inches apart. "Not even if I owe you a favor in exchange?"
Dazai's brain whirred to a halt. Having Chuuya owe him really was a nice feeling, and Dazai was a little bit short on dopamine at the moment. "...What do I need to do?"
Chuuya stepped back, looking smug. "Receive the ball and get it to the place I did," he replied.
Dazai eyed him warily. "I get the favor whether or not I succeed?"
"Yes, yes," Chuuya said impatiently. "Go get in position." His eyebrow lifted. "Or do you need me to help you with that, too?"
The thought of Chuuya positioning his body affected Dazai to an embarrassing degree. "As if," he sneered before stomping over to roughly where Chuuya had stood.
"Move back a foot," Chuuya called from the sidelines. "Trust me."
Dazai rolled his eyes but obeyed, and it was a good thing he did, because Oda's serve—which was perhaps a tad softer than the last, but still far too forceful—came right at him. Dazai managed to get his arms in front of him just in time to save his stomach from caving in completely, and the ball ricocheted off his forearms, landing somewhere off to the side.
"Ow," Dazai groaned, holding his middle. He'd probably get a good sized bruise from the ball forcing his own hands into his ribs.
Chuuya burst out cackling. "That was pathetic," he wheezed, drawing a glare from Dazai.
Oda came over, looking concerned. "Are you injured?"
"Only my pride," Dazai said, mostly honest.
"You put in valiant effort," Oda told him.
"I wish I'd filmed that," Chuuya lamented.
"Oh, was the slug too stupid to consider using this as blackmail material?" He taunted.
"Yeah, well, not all of us immediately think of blackmail, you ass," Chuuya snapped. "Anyway, I'm sure Yosano-sensei will believe me without video evidence."
"Go ahead and tell her," Dazai bluffed. "She won't care."
Chuuya smirked. "I guess we'll see about that."
(The following week in anatomy, Chuuya told Yosano about the horrible receive. She proceeded to laugh for the next few minutes, and once she was finally done, invited Chuuya to her next wine night, which was normally exclusively for women. Dazai was a little salty about that, if he was being honest.)
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
When Chuuya returned from his Saturday practice sometime after 2 PM, Dazai was in the middle of cleaning his room while blasting Time Is Running Outon his bluetooth speaker and singing along in terrible English.
"Oh, so you do listen to genres other than that weird noise you usually play?" Chuuya said sarcastically, dropping his bag on the floor with a thump that was audible over the music.
Dazai stopped singing just to give Chuuya a withering look. "It's math rock. And of course I like Muse, everyone does."
"Not here," Chuuya pointed out.
Dazai shrugged. "Yes, well, I've been told I have quite the eclectic taste."
Chuuya hopped onto his bed, facing Dazai. "What other American artists do you listen to?" He asked, sounding genuinely curious.
"Muse, Paramore, The Strokes, Radiohead and occasionally Rihanna," Dazai listed off. "I know a few odd songs by other artists, but those are the ones I know best." He paused before adding, "Do you listen to American music, slug?"
Chuuya gave Dazai a threatening look. "I don't know many American artists, apart from the most popular ones," he replied. "I mostly listen to J-rock."
"I've gathered that," Dazai said dryly. "You listen to music pretty loud. Aren't you worried about losing your hearing?"
Chuuya scowled. "I don't play it nearly as loud as you do! And at least I don't listen to the same three songs on repeat."
Dazai gasped. "Chuuya! I listen to at least five!"
Chuuya lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
" See you tomorrow, virgin suicide, highway slope, no future for us and Decode, just to name a few of them," Dazai defended. "I know lots of music!"
"All of that sounds depressing as fuck," Chuuya said bluntly.
"Yeah, well, I'm sure all of your music's mostly just noise," Dazai accused.
" All music is noise, and my noise is better than yours," Chuuya snapped back.
"Prove it," Dazai retorted.
Chuuya put on Cage by Dir en Grey. Dazai put on Misery Business by Paramore. Chuuya put on Shiver by Gazette. Dazai put on The Suicide Circus, also by Gazette. They had that artist in common, at least.
Later, Dazai wasn't sure how they managed to take up three hours just listening to music. He migrated to Chuuya's bed at some point, and for whatever reason, Chuuya didn't seem to mind. They lay with their sides pressed together, every nerve in Dazai's body hyper aware of Chuuya's presence. Despite that, he felt more relaxed than he had in a long time
We break the moment that we're touched.
Wrong about everything, we close our mouths.
All of us used to be so innocent,
But then somehow we were typecast as monsters.
—Dramaturgy
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
October 2014
Dazai started wrapping himself in bandages when he was ten.
He'd always hated the way his clothes felt against his skin—with the exception of soft, skin-tight clothes, but Dazai didn't own a lot of those. He was living in an orphanage then, and would remain there for another full year before getting adopted. Even after he was adopted, his parents didn't buy Dazai many nice things. They largely ignored him, which was fine with Dazai. He only needed a guardian in name, nothing else.
He took 7 rolls of bandages from his adoptive family's medical supply kit when he ran away at age fourteen. They only lasted him a few weeks, and he didn't even change them every day. It was certainly a nuisance, but a necessary one. Dazai did what he did for the sake of his own comfort. Life was uncomfortable enough without having to feel rough fabric against his skin, and even though by age 17 he'd saved enough money to buy himself some less itchy clothes, the bandages stayed on.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
Sometimes the bandages weren't enough. Dazai realized that one day while he was kissing Chuuya, and Chuuya's hand wrapped around his wrist. Dazai's sleeves were rolled up, and he could feel the scorching heat of Chuuya's touch through the bandages. His lips were tingling, but not in a good way for once.
Dazai flinched back, and Chuuya released him at once. "What's wrong?" He asked Dazai bluntly.
"Nothing!" Dazai chirped. "I just remembered I have an essay to write."
Chuuya looked exasperated. "You mean the one for lit that we still have three weeks to finish?"
"Never too soon to start, right?" Dazai shot back.
Chuuya leaned against his bed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look," he told Dazai, "I'm not going to pry, but you can tell me if I did something wrong."
"Aw, is Chuuya concerned he upset me?" Dazai taunted. "Don't flatter yourself, you couldn't make me upset if you tried."
Chuuya frowned. "Let me rephrase that. You can tell me if something is bothering you, whether or not I'm the cause."
Chuuya really was too perceptive. "Whatever," said Dazai dismissively.
He didn't plan on telling Chuuya anything else, at least until Chuuya asked him, "Was it the kissing? Do you want to stop doing that?"
"No," Dazai said. He said it too quickly, then cringed inwardly at how desperate he likely sounded. "It's not that. It…it doesn't have to do with you. It's like…" he thought for a moment. "Sometimes my skin gets really itchy, and I can't stand to be touched, even by my own clothing. It doesn't get this bad, usually, but…" Dazai trailed off. It felt strange, being so honest with Chuuya, but it was better to tell the truth if it meant Chuuya would keep kissing him.
"The bandages," Chuuya realized. "They're not covering anything, are they?"
Dazai forced a smile. "Only a whole lot of beautiful, baby-soft skin!" He replied. "Wanna see?"
"Not if you're feeling like this," Chuuya replied.
Dazai didn't want to dwell on what a considerate remark that was. " Fine ," he answered dramatically. "I suppose I can wait to get naked."
Chuuya's ears turned red. "What makes you think I even want to see you naked?" He challenged.
Dazai gave him his best sultry look. "Oh, Chuuya," he sighed. "You think I don't notice the way you stare at me when I'm getting dressed?" In actuality, Dazai had no idea if Chuuya looked at him like that, so saying it was a gamble.
Sometimes gambles paid off. Chuuya's whole face flushed as he snapped, "You can't talk. You watch me just as much."
Dazai gave him a mocking smile. "Of course I do! You've got a nice body, for someone so shor—ouchie!" Dazai yelped as Chuuya pinched his upper arm hard enough to bruise. He did it through Dazai's shirt, so even though it hurt, the sensation didn't make his skin crawl.
"Whatever," Chuuya grumbled. "All I'm saying is, you stare an awful lot for someone who claims to be straight."
"So do you," Dazai fired back. "Are you sure you're straight, Chuu-yaa?"
"Course I am. The question is, are you?" Chuuya challenged.
"Obviously," Dazai lied. "And even if I weren't, you're the last person I'd be attracted to."
"Yeah, well, same here," Chuuya snapped. "Obviously."
Dazai felt off for the next few days, and Chuuya didn't touch him once. Even after Dazai began to feel better, Chuuya still wouldn't get close to him. It was pretty clear he wasn't planning on making any moves until Dazai asked for it, and Dazai was too proud to ask.
On Monday night, Dazai cleared his throat to get Chuuya's attention. "You know," he said loudly, "my skin isn't crawling anymore!"
Chuuya, who had been studying at his desk, glared at Dazai. "Why should I care about that?" He snapped. "Now shut up, I'm trying to read."
Dazai exaggerated a pout. "But Chuuu-yaa! Don't you think we should celebrate my return to good health?"
"I can't remember seeing you eat a vegetable, ever," Chuuya said pointedly. "I wouldn't say you're in good health."
"I ate a carrot last week!" Dazai argued. "Two carrots, actually!"
"Really," Chuuya said flatly, resignedly shoving his textbook to the side. "Yosano probably shoved them down your throat."
She had, actually. He'd nearly choked more than once. Still, he wasn't about to tell Chuuya that. "She didn't have to!" He replied. "I like vegetables."
Chuuya looked unimpressed. "Once again, why should I care?"
Dazai gave him an irritated look. "No reason," he replied. "Anyway, isn't there something we could be doing right now?"
Chuuya looked confused, and then after a moment rolled his eyes as he realized what Dazai was referring to. "You can just ask me to kiss you, you know."
Dazai scowled. "I'm not going to ask for it."
Chuuya shrugged. "Fine, then."
He returned to his studying, and Dazai's scowl deepened. "Chuuyaaa," he whined.
Chuuya didn't glance up. "Yeah?"
Dazai had two options now. He could wait for Chuuya to cave, but Dazai was fairly certain he wouldn't. He was entirely too stubborn, and Dazai was anything but patient.
That left him only one option.
Dazai sighed. "Chuuya. Please kiss me." The words felt like cement, heavy on his tongue.
Chuuya's head whipped up. "Eh?"
Dazai grimaced. "Please kiss me," he repeated, feeling pathetic. "And please don't make me say it again."
Chuuya's eyes were wide, but after a moment he smirked. "So you admit you want to kiss me?" He taunted.
Dazai groaned. "No more than you do! I'm so bored."
"Bored, huh?" Chuuya murmured. "I guess we can't have that. You'll just keep bothering me, after all."
Dazai snapped his fingers. "Exactly!"
Chuuya sighed. "Okay, then." He pushed back his chair and strode over to Dazai. "You sure you're feeling better?"
"Chuuya," Dazai said impatiently. "If you don't kiss me now, I swear to god—"
Chuuya kissed him then. Dazai would never admit, not in a million years, how much he'd missed the way it felt, even the past few days when he knew he wouldn't be able to stand the sensation.
Chuuya wasn't necessarily easy to be around—he still drove Dazai up the wall most of the time—but kissing him felt so natural, Dazai had to wonder why he'd ever thought it was a bad idea.
After all, a bad idea wouldn't feel this good.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
On the 25th, Dazai headed to Oda and Ango's close to 7 PM. They had plans to celebrate Oda, Ango andRanpo's birthdays, since they were on the 26th, 20th and 21st, respectively.
Finding presents for three people at once had been tricky, but Dazai had managed. In the end he'd bought Oda a new wallet with a plate of curry embroidered on the front—he'd had his current one for years, and it was falling apart at the seams—and bought Ango a new tie decorated with octopi. It was kind of a gag gift, but Dazai knew that Ango would feel obligated to wear it at least once. Dazai couldn't wait for that day to come.
For Ranpo, he'd put together a giant box of snacks and thrown in a t-shirt that read, ' I'm with stupid' in bold letters and arrows pointing in various directions rather than just to one side. Dazai was pretty sure Ranpo would find that amusing.
Oda let Dazai into the apartment and led him to the living room, where Ranpo, Yosano and Ango, along with Mushitarou and Poe, were seated in a circle on the floor.
"Hello everyone," Dazai chirped.
Yosano eyed the presents in his arms and said, flatly, "What the hell is that wrapping job."
Dazai grinned. "Oh, this?" He gestured at the presents, which were wrapped in white paper that Dazai had taken the liberty of drawing on. The drawings were horrendous, Dazai was unashamed to admit. Oda's present had a cow drawn on top, with large, dark eyes resembling black holes; Ranpo's present had a detective drawn on it, but Dazai had given up halfway through drawing it and hadn't bothered to give it legs; and Ango's had some sort of demon-like creature scribbled on the side.
Dazai passed the presents out to their recipients and watched as they looked over the drawings. Oda's face was impassive as he said, "This is a very strange cow."
Meanwhile, Ango looked horrified. "What the hell isthat?" He asked, sounding very much as if he was afraid to hear the answer.
Dazai gave him a sweet smile. "A friend of yours! It watches you sleep."
Ranpo squinted at his drawing. "Is that supposed to be a magnifying glass?" he asked Dazai, gesturing at the detective drawing. "'Cause it looks more like a microphone with all those lines scribbled on it."
"That's the reflection in the glass!" Dazai defended.
"Ah," Ranpo said, understanding. "You're a terrible artist."
Dazai pretended to be insulted. "Such a cruel thing to say!" He cried dramatically.
"Yeah, yeah," Ranpo said dismissively before ripping the drawing to shreds, revealing the box underneath. He opened the box and grinned when he saw the assortment of snacks inside. "Pocky!" Ranpo cheered, pulling out a slim box. He must have been feeling really generous, because he even offered some to both of his boyfriends. Poe looked nearly moved to tears by the gesture.
When Ranpo finally pulled out the t-shirt, he stared at it for a good thirty seconds before bursting into laughter. "Ha!" He crowed. "This is so true!" Before Poe or Mushitarou—who Dazai assumed were typically his impulse control—could stop him, Ranpo yanked the t-shirt he was wearing over his head and replaced it with the new one. "How's it look?" He drawled around the strawberry pocky sticking out of his mouth (how he'd gotten the t-shirt over it, Dazai had no idea).
"You look like you think everyone else is stupid," Yosano informed him. "So, like yourself."
Ranpo looked satisfied with that.
Oda opened his present next, and looked pleased when the wallet was revealed. "Thank you. I like it very much."
Dazai smiled. "I knew you would." He watched as Oda grabbed his old wallet and began emptying the contents—apparently he kept every receipt he'd ever gotten, or at least that's what it seemed like—before transferring the important things to his new wallet.
Ango looked grateful as well. "Thank you for getting that," he told Dazai. "I've been bugging him to get a new one for ages." He looked both exasperated and achingly fond.
Dazai laughed. "No problem."
Finally, it was Ango's turn to open his present. He unwrapped it carefully, as if to preserve the drawing that he claimed he didn't like. Weirdo.
When he pulled out the tie, he stared at it for a full minute before saying, "...It's really something."
Dazai smiled innocently. "You'll wear it, right?"
Ango sighed. "Yes, I'll wear it."
"Go on, put it on!" Yosano insisted, smirking.
Ango reluctantly obeyed. The tie looked just as ridiculous on as it did off. Ranpo snapped a photo with his phone before Ango could react, and snickered at the result.
"Well?" Dazai asked, batting his eyelashes. "Aren't I just the greatest friend you've ever had?"
Ango huffed a laugh, looking equal parts annoyed and amused. "You're up there, I guess."
After the remaining presents were opened, they cleaned up the mess of wrapping paper in the living room. Yosano brought out the cake she and Ranpo had picked out, since none of them could bake (Oda made cookies sometimes, but that was the extent of his baking knowledge). The cake was vanilla with chocolate buttercream frosting. It was only the second thing Dazai ate that day, which meant that he'd likely be jittery later, but he didn't mind.
After finishing their cake, the group migrated back to the living room, drinks in hand. Oda had whipped up some Moscow Mules for them all, and they were surprisingly delicious.
"So, Ango," Ranpo started, "how does it feel to be two whole years younger than us?"
Ango frowned. "I'm a year and a few days younger, and my birthday's tomorrow, anyway."
"You're 25, we're 27," Ranpo pointed out. "That's a two year difference."
"I believe that's not how it works," Oda commented.
Dazai couldn't hold back his snicker. "Wonderful reasoning as usual, Ranpo."
"I try," Ranpo replied, nodding sagely. He looked ridiculous, sprawled across Poe and Mushitarou's laps while sipping his mug of juice (Ranpo never drank or smoked. Dazai still wasn't sure how he did it).
Dazai had to admit the three of them looked very comfortable together, though. Before he could stop himself he asked, "How long have you guys been dating, anyway?"
Ranpo grinned. "Since March, technically. They both liked me before that, though."
"Ranpo," Mushitarou groaned. "Must you embarrass us so?"
"He's not wrong, though," Poe mentioned. "Though it did take us a long time to figure out that our so-called 'friendly rivalry' was something more."
"It took you a long time," Ranpo corrected. "I already knew."
"And you didn't say anything?" Poe exclaimed, distraught.
Ranpo shrugged. "You had to figure it out for yourself."
Yosano sighed. "I can't believe I'm the only single one here."
Dazai cleared his throat. "What am I, a piece of trash?"
"You are trash," Yosano replied, "but you're certainly not single."
Dazai frowned. "Yes, I am."
Ranpo snickered. "Sure, sure," he said mockingly. "I totally believe that."
"It's true!" Dazai insisted. "Last I checked, anyway."
"So Chuuya's hickies didn't come from you, then?" Ranpo asked, eyebrow raised.
"Nope!" Dazai lied. "I wouldn't touch that slug with a ten foot pole."
Yosano groaned. "Give it up, Dazai. We can tell when you're lying."
Dazai knew she was right, so he backtracked a bit. "Okay, sure, let's say I did give him those hickies," he proposed. "So what? Doesn't mean we're dating.Besides, Chuuya's not even gay."
Ango choked on his drink, and Ranpo began cackling uncontrollably. "Not—gay," he gasped. "That's the funniest thing I've ever heard. Congratulations, Dazai!"
"He said he's not!" Dazai said defensively.
"Did you tell him you are?" Yosano asked pointedly.
Dazai averted his eyes. "Not exactly..."
"So you both said you're 'straight'," Yosano guessed, making finger quotes. "Okay. That's…wow. Ranpo's right, you've really outdone yourself this time."
Dazai looked to Oda desperately. "Odasaku!" He whined. "They're bullying me! Tell them I'm right!"
Oda looked thoughtful. "How often do you kiss Chuuya?" He asked Dazai.
"I dunno, I don't keep track!" Dazai answered, exasperated.
"So, a lot," Ranpo deduced. "And you still think he's straight? Does he say 'no homo' every time you kiss or something?"
"Why would he do that?" Dazai asked, tilting his head.
Ango groaned. "This is ridiculous," he muttered. "For such a smart person, you are incredibly oblivious, you know that?"
Dazai glared at him. "I'm not that bad!" He argued. "Anyway, why does Chuuya's sexuality matter? It's not like things are serious."
"Yet," muttered Yosano. Dazai dutifully ignored her.
It didn't matter what his friends thought, after all. Chuuya and Dazai were not in a relationship. At best they were friends with benefits—though even that wasn't correct, because they certainly weren't friends. Dazai was sure of that much, at least.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
Halloween came up fast. Dazai was especially excited this year because Oda and Ango had agreed to throw a party at their place, and also given Dazai the go-ahead to invite 'whoever he wanted'.
And oh, did Dazai invite people.
The party was on Saturday, November 1st, since Oda, Ango and Dazai worked at Bar Lupin Friday nights. Technically Oda and Ango worked on Saturdays, too, but their shift ended at 10, so they'd given Dazai, Yosano and Ranpo permission to get the apartment ready and told everyone to arrive sometime after 10:30. Given how much most college students enjoyed pregaming, Dazai figured no one would have an issue with that.
They planned the party the Monday before Halloween. On Tuesday, Dazai invited Tachihara, Gin, Lucy and Kunikida. The first three said yes, while Kunikida gave Dazai a reminder to pay for the sink repairs and a very weak 'maybe' (that was fine, though. He could be a bit of a buzzkill).
On Wednesday Dazai invited Tecchou and Jouno, and texted Atsushi to let him know as well. On Friday, he invited Fyodor, Nikolai and Sigma. He made sure to let everyone he invited know that they could also bring people, since neither Oda nor Ango had explicitly told him not to say that.
He invited Chuuya last, even though Chuuya had already heard about the party from both Tecchou and Tachihara by that point. "You weren't even gonna invite me, huh, asshole?" He grumbled at Dazai when Dazai told him.
"Nah, I just wanted you to have the shortest notice," Dazai said cheerfully. "Get it? Short?" Saying that earned him a punch to the gut, but it was certainly worth it.
When Saturday finally came around, Dazai headed over to Oda and Ango's around eight. They had a lot of decorating to do, and Ango had instructed them to put away anything fragile or remotely breakable.
"Nice costume," Yosano said to Dazai after he picked the lock to get in. "What exactly are you supposed to be?"
Dazai was dressed in red from head to toe, and had a red bed sheet tied around his neck like a cape. He grinned and said, "Guess!"
Ranpo popped his head out of the kitchen and looked Dazai over before laughing. "He's a red flag," he told Yosano.
Yosano's eyebrows shot up. "Is he gaining self-awareness?" She wondered, sounding amazed. It was quite insulting, really.
"I've always been self-aware," Dazai shot back. It only made Ranpo laugh harder. "Anyway, what the hell are you?" He added, addressing them both. Ranpo looked like his usual self, while Yosano was dressed in a white, knee-length dress with short sleeves and a black apron on top. Her boots came up to the hem of her dress, and made her a good few inches taller than usual. She wore a wig as well—a long black one—and black gloves that went up to her elbows.
"I'm Asami Yamazaki," she replied. When Dazai didn't react, she frowned. "From Audition?"
Dazai still had no idea what she was talking about. "What's that?" He asked, confused.
"It's a movie, " Yosano said, exasperated. "Those of us with taste would know."
"You know I don't watch movies," Dazai reminded her. He enjoyed the occasional movie, but typically had trouble sitting through anything longer than an hour.
"Still, pretty lame that you haven't seen Audition,"Ranpo drawled. "Even I liked it." Ranpo tended to be overly critical of movies, so he didn't typically enjoy watching them, either.
Dazai hummed. "I'll make sure to add it to my nonexistent list, thanks."
"Brat," Yosano muttered. "Uncultured swine."
"You know it!" Dazai said cheerfully. "Anyway, Ranpo, what are you supposed to be?"
"I'm not dressed yet," Ranpo replied. "I'm gonna be Sherlock Holmes."
Dazai snorted. "Which of your boyfriends is going to be Watson?"
Ranpo smirked. "Both," he replied. "I talked to them separately, so they have no idea."
Dazai couldn't help but laugh at that. "You're terrible."
"Yeah, yeah," Ranpo replied. "What's Chuuya going to be?"
"How should I know?" Dazai answered. "It's not like he'd tell me, even if I bothered to ask."
Ranpo and Yosano exchanged a look. "Right," Yosano replied.
"Anyway," Dazai said, changing the subject, "shouldn't we start getting this place ready?"
"I can put away the fragile stuff if you hang up streamers," Yosano announced.
"Aw, are you too short to reach?" Dazai taunted. "Even in those hee— oomph," he grunted as Yosano drove her fist into his stomach. "Rude," he wheezed.
Yosano eyed him, unimpressed. "You should know better," she replied.
"He's too used to teasing Chuuya about his height," Ranpo said around a lollipop that he'd procured from god-knows-where. "It's clearly not good for his ego."
"What is good for his ego?" Yosano pointed out.
"Okay, that's enough Dazai slander," Dazai decided.
"It's never enough Dazai slander," Ranpo muttered, but Dazai ignored him.
They got to work preparing the apartment. Yosano hid everything of value while Ranpo set up a table full of candy—it would likely be halfway gone by the time the guests arrived, at the rate he was eating it—and Dazai put up orange and black streamers around the perimeter of the room. They were kind of sloppy, but in a funny way, or at least Dazai thought so. Once he was done with that, he moved some chairs from the dining room into the living room, and tossed a few cushions around to make some extra seating.
Around 9:30, Yosano started mixing drinks in the kitchen while Ranpo watched curiously from his perch on the counter. Dazai stole a few swigs of vodka when Yosano wasn't looking, and Ranpo definitely saw, but he didn't snitch. He did give Dazai a long look the third time it happened, as if to say 'remember you're on medication now' (as if Dazai could forget).
It didn't stop Dazai, though.
Oda and Ango returned from work soon after 10 and immediately went to get dressed after giving the apartment a quick scan to make sure the three of them had done a decent job. Apparently they had, because neither Oda nor Ango had anything to say, even though the streamers were messy and the snacks mostly eaten already.
Yosano put out more snacks she'd kept hidden before while Oda and Ango changed, and Ranpo immediately went to town on them.
"Ranpo," Yosano reprimanded. "Save some snacks for the guests, will ya?"
"We'll sthee," Ranpo said around a mouthful of gummy worms.
Dazai got to work on the music—Yosano had grudgingly admitted that he knew more music than the rest of them combined—and made a playlist consisting mostly of pop, both Japanese and American. Oda and Ango emerged from their rooms a few minutes later, Ango dressed as a cop and Oda as a cowboy. Dazai had picked out both of their outfits, since he knew they'd be too busy with their studies to bother doing it themselves. Ranpo got changed as well, completing his detective outfit with a magnifying glass that actually worked and a pipe that definitely didn't.
The first guest to arrive was Poe. He brought with him a bag of candy, to Ranpo's delight. Yosano had some candy stowed away still, but Dazai figured that more was better where Ranpo was concerned. Poe's Watson costume resembled Ranpo's Sherlock one, though it was slightly more toned down.
Mushitarou showed up soon after, also dressed as Watson. He stopped dead when he spotted Poe, and the two of them stared at each other for a full minute as Ranpo cackled.
"Ranpo," Poe said miserably. "I thought I was your Watson!"
"This is just embarrassing," Mushitarou muttered. "You think this is funny?"
"Very much so, yes!" Ranpo replied. "Who says there can't be two Watsons, anyway?"
Poe and Mushitarou still didn't look convinced, but they were clearly too whipped for Ranpo to argue that point.
The next to arrive was Atsushi. He wore a white shirt and pants that had been painted with stripes, and Dazai would have assumed it was a prison outfit if not for the tail and ears.
"White tiger?" Dazai guessed.
Atsushi beamed. "Yeah! I'm glad you can tell, Akutagawa said I just look like a prisoner."
"Not at all!" Dazai lied. He wondered when Akutagawa had seen Atsushi's costume. Do they actually hang out?
Lucy came next, clearly dressed as Poison Ivy, and Akutagawa, Gin, Higuchi and Tachihara—who had kindly brought a tray of brownies—showed up shortly after that, followed by Fyodor, Nikolai and Sigma. As far as Dazai could tell, Akutagawa was a vampire—which, basic much?—and Gin was that one girl from The Ring, while Tachihara was some sort of gangster/delinquent type, and Higuchi was a…spy? Secret agent? Something like that.
Dazai recognized Sigma's costume as Howl from Howl's Moving Castle, but he had no clue what Fyodor and Nikolai were dressed as. Nikolai looked like some sort of clown with odd symbols drawn on each cheek, and Fyodor was similarly dressed but with a long, black wig.
Oda seemed excited by their costumes, at least. "I see you are Hunter x Hunter fans as well," he said to them both.
"Who the fuck are they," Dazai asked flatly.
Nikolai grinned. "Hisoka and Illumi of course!" He answered with a theatrical bow. "At your service."
"Antagonists," Fyodor clarified.
Ah. "Makes sense," Dazai said bluntly. "No offense." Full offense.
Chuuya arrived close to eleven. By then the party was in full swing; Ango and Yosano mixed drinks in the kitchen, and Poe and Ranpo were setting the table up for a game of beer pong.
Dazai burst out laughing the minute he opened the door. "Leprechaun," he wheezed. "You're a leprechaun!"
Chuuya scowled. "I'm the Onceler, asshole!"
"Uh-huh," Dazai said mockingly. "Should've dyed your hair if you wanted to sell it."
"I hate you so much," Chuuya grumbled."Anyway, what the hell are you supposed to be? A red flag?" It was clear he thought he was joking. When Dazai said nothing, Chuuya stared at him. "You can't be serious. A red flag? Have you suddenly gained self-awareness?"
"That's what I said," Yosano cut in, appearing at Dazai's side. "Hey, Chuuya."
Chuuya nodded at her politely. "Yosano-sensei."
"Please, just Yosano is fine," Yosano replied. "I just bought a bottle of Cabernet, want some?"
"I won't say no to that," Chuuya answered, giving her a genuine smile. Dazai was not at all jealous that Yosano was the one to receive it.
They went to the kitchen, and Dazai wandered into the living room. Sigma was seated across from Fyodor and Nikolai on some of the floor cushions. He didn't look very happy, which meant he definitelyneeded someone to entertain him.
Probably.
Dazai beelined for him and threw himself onto the cushion beside Sigma's. "Sigmaaa~" He exclaimed. "How nice of you to come by!"
"Nikolai didn't give me any other option," Sigma grumbled in response.
Dazai tilted his head and shot a glance at Nikolai, who was engaged in some kind of weird eye contact/foreplay with Fyodor. Dazai repressed a shudder and asked, "What do they have on you?"
Sigma sighed. "Fyodor's the main reason I passed most of my courses this semester, so I owe him a favor or three. Also, Nikolai threatened to break into my apartment and move all of my furniture around if I didn't come," he added, face screwed up in irritation.
"That's quite annoying," Dazai agreed. He shot a glance at Fyodor and Nikolai and grimaced. They were still eye-fucking, faces just inches apart. Nikolai looked almost violent, as if part of him wanted nothing more than to tear Fyodor to pieces. "Ugh," Dazai muttered. "I wish they'd just get a room already."
It was kind of fun, talking shit with Sigma while Fyodor and Nikolai were only a few feet away. They were so consumed by each other that they didn't even notice, or if they did, they certainly didn't care .
Tecchou and Jouno were the last to arrive, close to midnight. Tecchou was very obviously Spiderman, while Jouno wore a t-shirt that read ' I am not Daredevil'.
"Matt Murdock?" Oda asked him.
"Gesundheit," said Dazai.
"That's me," Jouno replied, ignoring Dazai entirely. "Glad to see some people at this party have taste."
"Jouno," Tecchou scolded, swatting his arm. "Be nice to our hosts. He turned back to Oda and added, "I'm Suehirou Tecchou, and he's Jouno Saigiku. We're in psychology with Dazai."
"Sakunosuke Oda," Oda replied. "Pleased to meet you."
"I just said he has taste!" Jouno defended. "Dazai, on the other hand…"
"Matt Murdock is Daredevil," Oda explained.
"So the t-shirt is a mislead, then?" Dazai guessed.
"You could say that," Oda agreed.
"What are you, Dazai?" Tecchou asked politely.
Dazai smiled widely. "I'm a red flag!"
"Has he gained self-awareness?" Jouno quipped.
Dazai frowned. "Why does everyone keep saying that?" He knew why, of course, but he had to at leastattempt to preserve his dignity.
Jouno just smiled meanly in response. Tecchou drove an elbow into his ribs and said, "I apologize for him. He gets grouchy when he hasn't eaten in a while."
Jouno looked annoyed. "I'm not a toddler," he snapped.
"Stop acting like one, then," Tecchou challenged.
Oda cleared his throat. "Would you like something to drink? We have snacks, as well."
"That would be great," Tecchou replied. "Thank you."
The two of them followed Oda to the kitchen, leaving Dazai adrift. He'd already had a good few glasses of sake, and a couple shots of vodka as well. His head felt pleasantly floaty, his limbs limber and loose. Maneater by Nelly Furtado came through the speakers Yosano had put on each side of the living room, and Maneater by Daryl Hall & John Oates played immediately after that. Dazai thought he was very clever and cool for adding both.
Atsushi crossed his path next. Unfortunately, this time he was with someone Dazai would rather not interact with.
"Atsushi-kun!" Dazai exclaimed. "And…Akutagawa." He tried not to make a face; he had an appearance to keep up, after all.
"Dazai-san," Akutagawa replied curtly. "Good to see you."
"Ditto," Dazai said before turning to Atsushi, ignoring the dark look Akutagawa gave him in response to his short reply. "Atsushi-kun, how've you been? Started working at the library yet?"
Akutagawa mumbled an 'excuse me' and left, likely in search of Oda, while Atsushi answered, "Not yet, but I'm getting trained next week!"
Dazai grinned. "Ah, my little underclassman is going places!" He chirped. "How lovely. Perhaps next you'll find a girlfriend! Or a boyfriend, whatever floats your bridge."
Atsushi ignored the malaphor and cringed, looking embarrassed. "I'm not searching at the moment," he admitted.
Dazai raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? Have you already found someone?" When Atsushi remained silent, cheeks going red, Dazai's eyes widened. "You have? Who is it?" He said excitedly. "Ah, young love~"
Atsushi groaned. "I don't have someone," he insisted. "And I don't want someone, either."
Dazai could tell he was lying on both counts, but decided to be nice and not call him out.
Yet.
"If you say so," he said nonchalantly. "How are you in general?"
"Good," Atsushi replied. "I think."
"Wonderful," Dazai replied. "Your studies are going well?"
"As well as they could be going," Atsushi responded. "Akutagawa still tutors me in math, but apart from that I'm mostly okay."
Dazai felt his eye twitch against his control. "And how is Akutagawa-kun as a tutor? Is he treating you well?"
Atsushi shrugged. "He's mean, but effective," he replied. "And surprisingly patient. Well, sometimes. When he's not throwing pencils at my face to get me to work faster. It mostly works."
Dazai had to admit the technique sounded harsh, but if it worked, then what was he to say?
"Anyway," Atsushi continued, "how are you?"
"Fine!" Dazai chirped. "You know what? I think I could use another drink. Would you like anything?"
"I'm good," Atsushi replied. "I'm underage, anyway."
Dazai stared at him, appalled. "Atsushi-kun," he said slowly, "you're at a college party."
Atsushi looked confused. "Yes?"
"No one's going to get you in trouble," Dazai clarified.
"I know, it's just..." Atsushi fidgeted. "I would feel guilty breaking the law!"
Dazai burst out laughing and threw an arm over Atsushi's shoulders. "Ah, you really are the best, Atsushi-kun!" He exclaimed.
"Thanks, Dazai-san," Atsushi replied, sounding bewildered.
Dazai ruffled his hair in response before heading to the kitchen, where he proceeded to mix himself a vodka cranberry cocktail as he hummed along to Please Don't Stop the Music . When he turned to head back out, the plate of brownies caught his eye, and his stomach growled. He'd forgotten to eat anything that day, save for a few snacks while setting up and a banana earlier in the morning.
Might as well try one, Dazai decided.
The brownie wasn't the best he'd had, but it was nice and moist, and quelled his hunger for the time being. Dazai brought his drink back out and joined an incredibly disorganized game of truth-or-dare. There didn't appear to be any rules, except that they went around the circle, and oftentimes the questions were asked by the group as a collective.
"Truth or dare?" Tachihara and Chuuya yelled at Tecchou as Dazai took a seat on the floor.
"Dare," said Tecchou impassively.
"Take a shot of every condiment in the fridge combined," Higuchi suggested.
"Fools," muttered Jouno as Tecchou went to the kitchen. "You think this will faze him?"
"How could it not?" Nikolai chirped. "Even I couldn't stand such a challenge!"
Jouno looked disdainful. "The only challenge Tecchou faces is consuming foods of different colors."
Higuchi frowned. "Huh?"
Tecchou returned, holding a glass of some mixture that appeared to be part ketchup, part mustard and god-knew-what else.
"What's in it?" Tachihara called.
"Mustard, mayo, honey, vinegar, ketchup, sriracha and soy sauce," Tecchou replied before throwing it back. His face didn't so much as twitch as it went down, though he didn't look all that pleased, either. "That color mixture was awful," Dazai overheard him mumble.
Looks like Jouno was right, thought Dazai. They really do know each other well.
"Dazai," Chuuya said, loud enough that Dazai almost flinched. "Truth or dare?" He was smirking in an unfairly attractive manner, cheeks flushed from the wine.
Dazai thought for a minute before replying, "Truth."
"Bo-ring," Ranpo booed.
Tachihara grinned, shark-like. "I can work with this. Hmmm…okay, Dazai, if you could hook up with anyone in this room, who would it be?"
Dazai wrinkled his nose, resolutely not looking at Chuuya. He scanned the circle, eyes falling on Sigma. Then he smiled. "Sigma-kun~" he cooed. "You look like you could use some help relaxing!"
Sigma looked horrified. "Please tell me you're joking."
Dazai hummed. "I might be!" He made the mistake of glancing at Chuuya then. Chuuya's expression was entirely unidentifiable, which was unexpectedly disappointing. The game moved on, but Dazai's eyes remained on Chuuya. Chuuya glanced at him occasionally, but never for more than a second. It was frustrating, to say the least.
Then Nikolai dared Chuuya to kiss Tachihara, and Dazai realized that he had not been frustrated before, or at least it was nothing compared to the way he felt watching Chuuya stick his tongue down Tachihara's throat.
Dazai left without a word before they were done kissing. His head felt light and floaty, and the vibes were off. He needed a break.
He considered the bathroom, but it was currently occupied. Instead he went to Ango's room and shut the door behind him. He didn't bother turning the lights on; the moon was bright tonight, illuminating half the room with a dim, bluish glow.
Dazai took a deep breath, savoring the quiet. His head was spinning less now, but still felt oddly light. He must have had more to drink than he'd thought.
The door swung open suddenly, and Dazai turned to look, eyes half-lidded against the light. Then the door closed again, and Dazai made out that the intruder was Chuuya.
"Knew you'd be in here," Chuuya muttered.
"I bet you said the same thing when you barged into Oda's room looking for me, too," Dazai replied.
Chuuya didn't deny it. Instead he said, "Why'd you leave?"
Dazai shrugged. "I don't enjoy party games."
"Is that why you left last time, too?" Chuuya asked.
"You could say that," Dazai replied nonchalantly. "Now is there something you need?"
Chuuya narrowed his eyes and came over to the bed. "You're acting weird," he accused. "Are you high?"
Dazai laughed. It sounded abrupt and awful, but he couldn't help it. "Why would I be high? No one brought drugs here, as far as I know."
Chuuya looked at him incredulously, and then his eyes widened. "Did you eat one of Tachihara's brownies?"
Dazai's tongue felt thick in his mouth. "Yeah. Why?" He felt like he should know what Chuuya was getting at, but his brain was unusually sluggish right now.
"Dazai," Chuuya said slowly, "those are weedbrownies."
Dazai stared at him blankly for a moment as he processed that. Then he said, "Oh."
Chuuya sighed, sounding exasperated. "I can't believe you didn't know."
"No one told me!" Dazai defended.
"Yeah, but we're at a party," Chuuya retaliated. "Brownies at college parties are never safe."
"Noted," Dazai mumbled. "Anyway, why are youacting weird? Did you eat one, too?"
Chuuya made a face. "Nah."
"Okay, then," Dazai said impatiently, "what's your deal?"
Chuuya's eyes flashed. "Nothing," he insisted.
Dazai pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly. "Okay, then, I guess there's no problem."
"I guess not," Chuuya replied. Dazai waited, and Chuuya looked at him warily. "What? You want a kiss or something?"
"After Tachihara's tongue was in your mouth? No thanks," said Dazai, rolling his eyes.
"It was one kiss!" Chuuya pointed out. "I bet his spit's gone by now, anyway."
"Oooh, you wanna kiss me so bad," Dazai taunted. "I bet you were wishing Tachihara was me."
"No way," Chuuya snapped.
Dazai stepped closer and put a hand on Chuuya's neck to feel his pulse. "Say it again and maybe I'll believe you."
"Shut the fuck up—" Chuuya muttered before grabbing Dazai's collar and dragging him into a kiss. The force drove Dazai back, and he ended up sprawled on Ango's bed with Chuuya on top of him. Chuuya leaned down to kiss him again, and it felt criminally good. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the weed.
Maybe it was just Chuuya.
He moved his hands to Chuuya's hips and tugged him closer, drawing a noise out of Chuuya. "Chuuya," Dazai gasped, head spinning. "Remember when you offered to fuck me?"
Chuuya pulled back, sputtering. "I did not— "
"You said 'fuck you'," Dazai reminded him.
"I was insulting you!"
"So?" Dazai replied. "Does that mean you don't want to fuck me, then?"
Chuuya groaned. "I didn't say that."
"So?" Dazai repeated.
Chuuya gave him a look. "We're in Ango's bed," he emphasized.
"I know, can you imagine his reaction when he finds out?" Dazai said gleefully. "It'll take at least a year off his life, I'm sure of it."
"That doesn't make it better, even a little bit," Chuuya stated. "Anyway, you can barely walk straight. I'm not having sex with you when you're like that."
Dazai frowned. "Why not?"
"Because that would be pretty shitty of me, don't you think?" Chuuya shot back. "I'm not a fucking creep."
"We kissed when I was cross-faded," Dazai reminded him.
"You said you were mostly sober," Chuuya fired back. "You're way worse tonight, I can tell."
"It's not like you drugged me," Dazai argued. "In Japan—"
"Our laws are fucking archaic," Chuuya interrupted. "Which you'd know if you hadn't run off during Kouyou's lecture on sexual assault."
"So?" Dazai drawled.
"So I won't fucking do it," Chuuya snapped. "I'm not gonna do anything with you when you're like—like this."
"So?" Dazai repeated, tone vicious. "Never stopped anyone before." He could feel himself smiling, and it felt horrible, but he couldn't seem to form any other expression. He watched as Chuuya put it all together, as his anger morphed to something like horror. When he opened his mouth to speak, Dazai cut him off. "Don't look like that, Chuuya," he said, voice sickly sweet. "I can't stand pity."
"But—"
"I said don't," Dazai said sharply. He was still smiling as he said, "Now, if we're not going to fuck, then I don't particularly want you here, so run along, little pup!"
Chuuya's nostrils flared, and Dazai briefly thanked whatever god existed that he was too dumb to see Dazai was lying through his teeth.
"Fine," Chuuya snapped. "I don't give a shit about you, either. Deal with your trauma alone, you fuckin' asshole." He stormed out of the room, slamming the door forcefully behind him.
"It's not trauma if I don't care," Dazai yelled after him, childishly.
He flopped back on the bed, feeling suddenly exhausted. How the fuck am I going to deal with this mess? He wondered, thoroughly irked. Sure, it didn't really matter if he was on good terms with Chuuya. Nothing about their arrangement was serious or made to last, anyway.
Still, there was a part of him screaming that he couldn't lose Chuuya. It made no sense, because he didn't even like Chuuya all that much, but for some reason the idea of his absence made Dazai feel sick. No one was supposed to affect him like this.
Especially not someone who pissed him off the way Chuuya did