Chapter Text
Jesus, why is it so hot in these damn classrooms, Chuuya thought while his quantum physics professors dragged the lecture longer and longer. Chuuya left the house in a hurry this morning, so he didn't have a hair tie on him. His neck was coated in sweat and he felt like he was just a few minutes away from passing out.
He bent over to search for some make shift hair band that could tie his hair up when he comes across the small gift bag he had recieved at work yesterday.
"Damn Chuuya, that's the sixth one this week," Lucy said after he exited the stage.
He'd been so busy last night that he didn't get the chance to look inside to see what it was. He had been receiving gifts every single shift this week, and even his friends were picking up on it. The past few gifts had been jewlery or makeup supplies. As he pulled the tissue paper out as quietly as he could, he noticed a metallic shine inside the bag. Grabbing the object carefully, he pulled out a dainty hair stick.
It had a long silver stem with pale blue flowers on the end. Hanging down from the flowers were two chains that held small spherical crystals. It was pretty and most of all it was a life saver in this moment.
Trying his best to remember how to use a hair stick, he wrapped his long hair around the stem, turning in clockwise to grab more hair from his scalp. He meticulously weaves the stick through his bun and it actually stayed.
Thank you, mom, for forcing me to wear these with my yukata at festivals, Chuuya thought, remembering how he once said hair sticks were too girly for him.
Now with his hair off his neck, he could feel a slight breeze on his skin. Class was coming to close but Chuuya needed to study in the library before going home and getting ready for work.
His study methods were chaotic, papers strewn everywhere, a thousands tabs open on his laptop, and a disorganization only he could sort through. Lucy had made fun of him countless times about it, said he studied like a mad scientist, which, to a degree, was a proper evaluation of himself.
He had studied like this since high school and while it was messy it worked. He was the top student in his class when he graduated, often being picked on by friends for caring so much about school.
The first time he studied in the university's library he had been yelled at for taking up the space of five people. They told him if he insisted on throwing his papers around everywhere, he should move to less popular area of the library. So, now he's claimed a small corner in DVD section. No one ever came back here, no one used DVDs anymore, but there was a conveniently placed work table which provided the exact amount of space he needed.
There was no natural light back here, only the glow of incandescents which gave him headaches from time to time. Some of his friends knew of his own little spot, but they rarely visited. Half of them didn't even know how to get there.
So it was a surprise when, an hour into his astrophysics homework, a tall familiar brunette stumbled into the aisles of blue plastic cases. He didn't notice Chuuya at first, so he watched as the figure looked through different movies and documentaries.
He was looking for something in particular, but was having trouble finding it. It didn't help that everything back here was heavily coated in dust.
After five minutes, Chuuya was still undetected and Dazai was still aimlessly searching the shelves. Silently moving from his seat, Chuuya made his way over to Dazai.
"Need help finding something?" Dazai jumped like a scared cat, hands curling up to his chest. Chuuya couldn't help but double over in laughter. The sight of an almost six foot grown man startling like a girl was funnier than most comedy movies he had seen.
Dazai looked at him, bewildered for a few moments before his expression shifted into a bashful embarrassment.
"I've been watching you look up and down the shelves for the last few minutes, but you dont look any closer to finding what you're looking for."
"How- where- what," Dazai stuttered, "where did you come from?"
"Over there," Chuuya points to his work space, Dazai face scrunches up from the mess, "I know, its a disaster, don't you dare say anythin," he smiled up at Dazai.
"How long have you been here?"
"Today? About an hour. But I've had this place claimed as mine for two years now. You're the first person I've seen come back here."
"My sister likes old movies, we have most of them at home but she wanted something different."
"Well you're in the wrong spot for classics, those are three aisles down, you see where the big ol' sign says '20th Century Hits'."
Dazai looks over, mentally slapping himself in the face for missing it. "I swear I checked over ther."
"No, you didn't, but I can help you find your movie, what is it called?
Dazai looks down at a smudge of ink on his palm, "Twelve Angry Men?"
"Oh, I know where that one is, I used to watch it a lot as a kid because I wanted to be a lawyer," Chuuya walks confidently toward where he knows the film is, Dazai stumbling behind him still processing what Chuuya had said.
"W-why did you change your mind?"
"I took a physics class," Chuuya says, smiling back at Dazai, drawing out even more blush.
"So you've always known what you wanted to do?"
"I wouldn't say always, but since high school, yes. Have you not?" Chuuya asks, stopping in front of an array if films from the 1950s.
"I still don't," Dazai nervously scratches the back of his head.
"But you're third year pre-med, seems like you committed," Chuuya runs fingers over the dusty cases.
"It's just what my father wants."
"Strange…found it!" Chuuya exclaimes, pulling the film from the shelf, a small metal object falling from his hair letting the tufts tumble down, "shit."
Dazai leans down to pick it up, "you're actually wearing it."
"Sorry?" Chuuya looks up at him with those big blue eyes, confused.
"The hair stick, this one, you're actually wearing it?" Dazai had spent forever picking out which one would suit the red head best. In the week since their last encounter, it was hard for him to bring himself back to the club. He wanted to see Chuuya so bad, but he was too nervous to go back. So he sent gifts everyday, hoping they would suffice.
Chuuya's face shifts in understanding, "of course, I never let a gift go to waste," he smiles and takes the hair stick from Dazai, twirling it around in his fingers. "Though, I'm not very great at using these."
"I can help you," Dazai blurts out before he's aware his mouth has even opened. It seemed to surprise Chuuya as well, but he only smiled and handed it back to him.
"Really? How gentlemanly of you," he turns around pulling his hair back from his shoulders.
Dazai hesitates to touch Chuuya but he manages to reach out, taking the hair into his hands. It's soft, softer than he had remembered. And now that he looked at it up close, it was a lot more of a strawberry blonde than a ginger.
"Do you dye your hair?"
"No, I just use colored spray to make it pop for the club, shit sucks to get out though."
"Then why do you bother?" Dazai pushes the hair stick through the tight bun he'd created.
"Because it gets me more tips," Chuuya spins around to look back at Dazai. When their eyes meet, neither of them look away, just searching for the something lingering between them.
"Well, I've got to get this back to my sister, she's impatient, you know how teenagers are," Dazai says, stumbling over his words and staggering out of the aisle. Before he can disappear entirely he hears Chuuya call out.
"Hey Dazai," he looks back to see the small boy looking at him with a childlike grin, "stop by the club sometime would you? I meant it when I said you're welcome back."
"I'll try to find some time."
A few days earlier…
Who knew the world of accessories was so large. Dazai had scrolled through pages upon pages of hair clips, bracelets necklaces, earings — did Chuuya even have his ears pierced — to no avail. How is one meant to pick just one gift among the hundred of options.
"You could always just give her more than one gift," A smooth voices comes from his shoulder. Dazai jumps at the intruder, whipping his head around to find Yosano bending down to look at his laptop.
"Jesus christ, you scared the shit out of me," exclaims Dazai over the bustle of the cafeteria.
"Well, who are you shopping for?" She asks, ignoring Dazai's previous statement. Her eyes glance up and down the webpage of feminine gifts.
"No one," Dazai replies shortly.
"Oh, so you plan to wear all that Jewlery yourself?"
"N-no," Dazai stutters over his words, taken aback, "but, it isn't any of your business who I shop for," he dramatically places a hand over his heart is mock distress. Yosano stares at him with a look of unamusement.
"Well, you should start by determining if she wears silver or gold," She takes a seat next to Dazai at the small table, pulling out a book she's been reading.
"Does it really matter?" Dazai asks, continuing to scroll through different gems and styles.
"Yes, it really does," Yosano looks down and rubs her forehead, "I know you aren't 'popolar' with the ladies, but I'd figured you had some common sense" Dazai shrugs in response.
"Is she fair skinned or dark?" Yosano continues on, dissapointment written on her features.
"Again, does it matter?"
"Well, if she's fair skinned, gold could wash her out so its better to go with silver. Contrastly, silver often clashes with darker skintones with warmer undertones. So you can make a good guess based on those factors alone."
Dazai carefully goes to his cart to begin deleting the gold jewlery he had picked out. He tries his best to hide the screen from Yosano but fails.
"Fair skinned I see," She prunes, eyeing Dazai's full cart of items.
"Can you keep your nose out of my business?"
"I'm just trying to help here, what's her name by the way?" Yosano asks, disreagarding his complaints.
"That's none of your business, why are you even here?" Dazai asks closing his laptop half-way.
"Class got out early, thought I'd come to see my favorite roomate of my brother's," she replies, turning the page in her book.
"How lucky I am," Dazai groans, trying to slim his options down by sorting for silver jewlery.
"Get her a hair pin," she says, never looking away from her book.
"Huh?" Dazai asks confused.
"This school is ridiculously hot and a hair pin is cuter than a boring hair tie," Yosano reasons. Dazai types into his search bar quickly, a large catolog presenting itself almost immediately. There was still a plethora of options but some of the sticks were substantially nicer than the others which made it easier to make a choice.
Now Dazai had one gift secured, but he didn't feel like one gift was good enough. He wanted to shower Chuuya in gifts. Show his affection from afar so that he wouldn't get burned by the flame that lived inside the red head.
A smalll ding comes from Yosano's pocket and she deftly retrieves her phone, looking over the notification. Her expression is blank but quickly shifts to a smile when she looked back at Dazai.
"Looks like I gotta go, have fun shopping for the mystery girl," she waves as she retreats from view and turns the corner toward the exit.
So much for no one finding out.
One week and a couple million won later and Dazai had officially lost his mind. He'd sent so many gifts to Chuuya he started to lose count. They ranged from dainty chains to rings with large, expensive gemstones.
He wanted to show Chuuya that he appreciated what he did for him that night in the club, but he was too scared to go back there himself. He wasn't sure how things would go, would he be able to resist tempation or would he fall victim to his body's desires? He wasn't trying to find out.
But now Chuuya had asked him to come back with that look in his eyes, so how could Dazai say no? Perhaps he would be more prepared for the scene this time, having experienced it once before. Or thing could go terribly wrong and he could recognized, but he was trying to shove those thoughts away as he buttoned up his blazer.
He wanted to look nicer than the last time he had visited. Last time was a last minute decision with clothes thrown on hastily and shoes sliding on halfway out the door.
He looks in the mirror to assess himself, deciding to lose the tie as to not come off as too formal. He ruffles his hair slightly before leaving the bathroom.
The apartment is empty, Ranpo having left hours ago for some party. His footsteps echo against the walls and through his mind. One hand on the door knob and he thinks about turning back, never going to that club again, never sending anymore gifts, never seeing Chuuya again.
But the allure of Chuuya was stronger than the gravitational pulls Dazai learned about in high school, and he could not stop himself from opening the door.
A soft click comes from behind him when he shuts it, wiggling the handling three times to ensure it has locked. He takes a deep breath and takes the first steps out of the building.
He had considered getting a cab, but he was too worried about the possibility the driver knew him or his family in some way. The odds were unlikely, but it never hurts to be careful.
The streets become less and less populated the closer he gets to the club, and by the time he reaches the correct neighborhood, the only people he passes are those hiding away in back alleys. He thinks maybe it would have been worth it to call the cab, but if worse came to worse, he was confident he could defend himself. Plus, most of the lurkers were preoccupied with another body or substance.
The music from the club reverberated down the street, the bass of it palbable from even a block away. The lights from inside painted the opposite buildings in hues of pink, orange, and purple with the occasional strobe light thrown in the mix.
He walks through glass door, trying his best to evade his eyes from the chaos on the farther end of the room. Hurriedly, he makes his way to the bar to get the bartender's attention. He thought that this time, it would be best to get some alcohol in his system before seeing Chuuya.
An average height boy with hair darker than Chuuya's but red all the same walks up the him. Dazai makes note of his almost-but-not-quite correct posture and the stupid plaster across his nose.
"How can I help you this evening, sir?" the boy asks while shining a glass in his hands.
"A sangria, if you will," Dazai says, keeping his eye on the wandering performers, praying they wouldn't come his way.
"Coming right up, did you want to start a tab or pay the one off?"
"I'll pay it off," Dazai says as he reaches into his pocket to grab his wallet. He reaches into the cash pocket and hands the bartender a wad of bills, "keep the change."
The bartender whose golden name tage reads 'Tachihara' counts the bills swiftly before his face flushes and he thanks Dazai in a nervous but grateful manner.
It only takes a few moments for the his drink to be handed to him. Dazai takes a sip and notes the fruity flavors. He doesn't often go for fruity drinks around family because that would be 'unmasculine', but by his lonesome, he preferred them to the bitter spirits.
Once he prepared himself, he walked up to one of the large men in black and requested Chuuya privately. The man gave him an odd look, similar to the one he'd recieved before he was told Chuuya wasn't available.
"Tell him it's Dazai, he knows I'm coming." The bouncer disappears behind the stage for what feels like forever before a small redhead comes running out behind the curtain. He wore a bright smile, but something about it was off — ingenuine.
"You came!" Chuuya exclaims, grabbing Dazai's arm lightly.
"You asked me to, how could I refuse," if Chuuya could feign cheeriness, Dazai could feign confidence.
"How sweet," Chuuya smirks, "will you come everytime I call for you?" Before Dazai can respond, Chuuya giggles and pulls him towards the private rooms.
Dazai felt his skip a beat as he entered the familiar hallway. He tries his best to focus on Chuuya's hand which has now moved down to his wrist. The touch feels warm and Dazai is able to put all his attention into the skin on skin contact.
What is different though, is the room they enter. Dazai was expecting to be back in the same room he was in a week ago, but this one was much larger. A large bed sat opposite the door — a door, not even a curtain — but there was enough space for a small coffee tables and two chairs in the stretch. On the left most wall was a full mini bar complete with all kinds of drinking glasses.
"Ta-da," Chuuya says, flaunting the room to Dazai.
Dazai wants to be excited, be happy for this kind of treatment, but all he's thinking is why Chuuya would have gone out of the way to bring him to this room. The other rooms didn't have beds, they didn't have thick wooden doors, and they didnt have mini bars. Chuuya had to be expecting something tonight. Something Dazai was not prepare to give him.
Chuuya seemed to notice the discomfort on Dazai face because he immediately jumped in to explain.
"Oh shit, I didn't bring you here to sleep with me," Chuuya looks guilty, "I probably should've led with that. This room is just the suite and no one will barge in like last time." Dazai looks into Chuuya blue eyes which look brown in this light, he can practically feel the sincerity in them.
It hadn't occurred to him that someone would stick they neck out just for his comfort. What had he ever done for Chuuya to do any of this for him. Surely it was a pain in the ass to reserve the room, Dazai hadn't even requested it.
But Chuuya had done it anyway, for him.
Glancing around at all the amenities, they no longer seemed demanded anything of him. Instead they comforted him, reminding him that Chuuya cared, even if he had no reason to.
It was an old feeling for somone to treat you well, Dazai realized. In the same moment, he realized that perhaps for Chuuya, this was a bare minimum. Perharps, it should be the bare minimum for Dazai too.
In the moment, looking at Chuuya's face in the low light, his heart fluttering and his stomach doing back-flips, Dazai had the intense urge to kiss him. He might've if it weren't for Chuuya prancing over to the mini-bar to pour himself a glass of…whiskey?
"I know it's weird, but I just prefer the stuff. I would've offered you one, but you seem to already have a drink," Chuuya says, stepping toward one of the arm chairs near the coffee table.
Dazai walks around the tables, keeping his gaze on Chuuya while making his way to the bed to inspect it. He pulls his eyes away to run his hand across the velvet blanket and then up the wooden posts. It was hard to tell the color of the wood under the light, nor distinguish the grain.
Chuuya seemed to be watching him, more specifically his hands as they explored the furniture. His expression was unreadable, something Dazai hated.
"So, really, why did you come tonight?" Chuuya asks, sipping on his drink.
"I told you, because you asked me to."
"That can't be it, I figured there was no way you were coming back here after the last time," Chuua says, still eyeing Dazai but now his eyes were roaming up and down.
"That was..improper of me, I'm sorry you had to deal with that," Dazai says, looking down at his feet."
"No need to apologize, I've seen crazier shit," whether Chuuya was lying through his teeth, Dazai couldn't tell. Part of him was glad for this fact, but the other part of him was increasingly annoyed by how well put Chuuya was.
"Perhaps, you could say I was curious," Chuuya's eyes finally meet his.
"About what?" His tone is playful, like he knows the answer but wants Dazai to say it outloud.
"About you," the words are muttered, barely audible but it's as if Chuuya could read his lips none the less.
He steps closer to Dazai, who is still leaning against the bed post, smiling mischeviously. Dazai expects him to flirt or touch him, but at the last second he plops down on the bed to look up at Dazai with bright eyes.
Dazai holds eye contact for a while, a silent conversation lilting in the silence. It felt like a challenge, not from Chuuya but from Dazai's own mind. He wanted to kiss Chuuya so badly, his subconscious screaming at him to pin the red head to the bed. But he was nervous, so so nervous because this isn't who he is…is it?
Chuuya's lips glisten in the lowlight, a gloss layered atop the pink skin. Dazai placed his hand down on the blanket, leaning toward the boy beside him. Chuuya smiled even wider as he towered over him. He reached his hands up to wrap around Dazai's neck as their faces grow closer and closer.
Before their lips touch, Dazai does his best to imagine he were kissing a girl.
Three Years Ago…
There is yelling coming from Mori's office when thunder strikes loudly not too far from the house. It had been raining all day, nature's relentless tears mocking the emotions of the day.
When Dazai woke up this morning, he was expecting the same boring routine he'd aclimated to all semester. Senior year was busy and rigourous, especially when your father cares more about your grades than you do.
Dazai awoke at 6:30am everyday to the sound of his alarming assaulting his ears. It took him three minutes and twenty-seven seconds to pull himself out of bed every morning. Making his way to the bathroom in the hallway, he brushed his teeth and combed through his curls. When he arrived back in his room, he pulled out his wrinkled school uniform and slipped it on, not caring to iron it. From there he studied until 7:10 and at that time he grabbed his school bag and left.
Mori was never there to say good morning or wish him a good day at school. No one had told him they loved him as he walked out the door in probably six years. By now, he barely even registered if another person said anything to him as he left.
The walk to school was boring. His classes were boring, His friends were boring. Everything in his life was a melancholic drag on an endless loop until he would graduate, go to college, and become the heir to the family head.
Perhaps when he walked through the door of his house that evening, he felt momentarily excited. There was yelling and slamming doors. It may not have been a good sign but it deviated from the normal trajectory of his day — in the least, it would entertaining.
Before he could finish taking his shoes off in the doorway, his father was grabbing his wrist hard enough to leave bruises. Dazai was dragged to the office and shoved into the chair across from his father's desk.
Beside him was the family's assistant and, unexpectedly, his grandmother who looked a mix of angry, disgusted, and disappointed.
"Did you know?" Mori accused more than asked Dazai, his looked pointed and sharp.
"Know what?" Dazai asked, rubbing his wrists.
"Don't play dumb with me young man. Did you know about your brother?" In corner his grandmother was looking down at the floor shaking her head slightly. To his left the assistant held a large notepad with numerous scribbles he couldn't decipher.
It wasn't uncommon for his father to scream and accuse his sons of things, but it was very obscure that his grandmother be present for the scolding. His grandmother was the current head of the family since his grandfather had passed away two years prior. She ran family affairs strictly and traditionally. While she wasn't the proudest of Mori in his life endevours, he was the eldest and set for becoming the next head.
"Akutagawa? I hardly speak to him these days, I'm too busy with exams," he felt guilty as he spoke. Him and his brother were close before their father became overly strict with Dazai's education. They used to watch movies together every friday night and play board games in his room when Mori was on one of his rampages. Now all his afternoons are spent at cram schools or studying in his room, he hadn't a clue how Akutagawa had been recently.
"You better not be lying to me boy," his father rumbled pointing a finger toward Dazai.
"Perhaps he is telling the truth and one of your sons isn't a total failure," his grandmother chimed in, "some faith could be beneficial."
"How am I to have faith when I've just discovered my sone is one of them," Mori spat the last word, anger twisting his face.
"What's wrong with Aku? Is he alright, is he hurt?" Dazai asked worriedly.
"He wish he was hurt," Mori paused, pacing, before looking at Grandmother for a nod of approval.
"Your brother," Mori continued, "do you know his friend, Atsushi he met in grade school?" Mori asked, attempting to keep his expression calm.
"Of course, he's been here almost every weekend since Aku was little. What happened?" Dazai searches the room for hints of the disaster that could have occurred while he was gone. His brother was on the rebellious side — he couldn't count how many times he had brought someone over before asking or purposefully played music too loud to annoy Mori — but he obeyed when he needed to.
"Today I went to fetch your brother and I found them," Mori takes a deep breath, struggling through the second half of his sentence, "together."
Dazai was still confused. Those boys had been inseperable since the day they met. The only person Aku spent more time with than Atsushi was Dazai himself. Even if Aku had snuck Atsuhsi into the house when father told him no it wouldn't have caused this much ruccus.
"I'm sorry, I don't get it, when are they not together?" Dazai asks. Mori scowls at his before hissing an explanation.
"They were together as lovers are."
There wasn't one particular thought that crossed Dazai's mind at this information. It was a total absence of thought before a tsunami of questions. He didn't even know Aku was dating, let alone having…he didn't want to think of his baby brother like that. Worst of all though, with another man? With Atsushi no less. How long had it been like this, how long since his brother was, like that.
Dazai's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but he never did find something to say. Fortunately, his shock seemed to be proof enough to Mori that Dazai was as out of the loop as anyone else was.
He wasn't asked any more questions after that, but he wasn't dismissed either. He wasn't sure how long he sat there while the adults around him talked. Though he was eighteen, an adult himself, he felt like a child, entirely unequipped to handle the implications of the situation. So he just stayed there, not listening, not ignoring, but trying to piece everything together for himself.
After so long, Dazai spoke up and his voice was rougher than he'd expected it to be, "am I excused?"
The others in the room stopped in the middle of their conversations, seemingly having forgotten him. His father dismissed his quickly, resuming his sentence without a second thought.
Dazai's feet were heavy as he moved toward his brother's room. He wishes he could say he went their to comfort his brother, or to see if he was doing alright, but he wasn't. He entered the room searching for answers.
When the door swung open, his eyes found Aku immediately. He sat in the corner of his bed, curled into himself softly crying. When he looked up at Dazai his eyes were red and his hair was a mess. Dazai hoped his hair was messy because he didn't brush it that day, but the baggy clothes that weren't his own only confirmed the suspicions lurking in the recesses of his mind.
Aku got up quickly, running towards Dazai to hug him and cry. Dazai did not hug him back.
"How long?" he croaked out.
Akutagawa looked up at his, glossy eyes confused, "what?"
"How long?" Dazai said, more anger in his voice. Akutagawa seemed to understand now, stepping back from Dazai a few paces. His eyes refilled with the tears he had wiped away.
"No," he said quietly, "no, please don't do this, Dazai."
"How long?" Akutagawa stumbled back to his bed, sitting on it and placing his head in his hands.
"Can you please just be my brother right now?" he began crying again, the stray tears dripping onto the sweatpants he wore.
"How. Long." Dazai enunciated the words, demanding an answer rather than asking for one.
"Why does it matter?" Akutagawa sobbed, sniffling and wiping away the flowing tears with his sleeve. Dazai had never seen his brother look to so foreign to him.
"Because I need to know how long he's been doing this to you!" Dazai yells back, making Akutagawa flinch before he begins sobbing again.
"He didn't do anything to me, you sound like dad." The cieling fan creaks in the silence that follows, the breeze periodically pushing the hair from Dazai's face. After a few minutes of Akutagawa's sobs being the only response to his questioning expression, he turns to leave. Before he takes his last step out of the room he hear a small sound from his brother.
"Two years." Dazai winces and slams the door behind him.