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wine makes you weak

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When Chuuya finally blinks through the heavy fog of sleep and rubs the grit out of his eyes, he knows that nothing good could be happening. The lecture theatre is quiet. Deadly quiet. The history class he’d dragged himself to attend was long over, and the other students had already probably left the campus for a decent meal in the cold weather. A warm meal, warm heating and a good excuse to go to bed instead of studying. Fuck, he didn’t blame them.

But still, he’d dragged himself here in the hopes of actually paying attention for once. Of course it didn’t happen.

Chuuya drags a gloved hand over his face, groaning at the realisation that fuck, he’d slept through an entire lecture for the third time this week. And it didn’t help that the evening sun was already starting to set, and the chill of winter was going to bite at him when he could finally muster up the energy to stagger back to his dorm. For once, he was thankful for his glove fetish. No matter what anyone said. This time his hands wouldn’t freeze off, but the rest of his body might.

Perhaps he really should have taken that shitty cellist Dostoevsky up on the offer for a warm ushanka hat, no matter how hard it was to give up his own self appointed black top hat. Chuuya was nothing if not stylish.

Chuuya throws a glance at his watch with a frown tugging at his lips, just over an hour had passed since his class had finished. He’d been asleep for a whole hour, and was still tired. With a groan Chuuya stretches his arms above him and feels the knotted muscles of his back pull, small cracks echoing in the empty theatre as stiff tension releases from his spine.

Grabbing his crumpled papers, Chuuya leaves the room. Only stopping to quickly shrug on his thin coat, he sets off on the long walk back to his apartment.

He’ll make it back before it snows, he promises to himself as he rubs his gloved hands together. Soon, he’ll be able to roll around in a heavily blanketed bed and sleep all the stress away. If there’s a single promise he’s able to keep, it’s that.

But first, he needs wine.

“Chuuya!” a voice calls from behind him.

Chuuya awkwardly halts his step, but he doesn’t turn around.

He knows that voice. It’s the living, breathing reminder of why a stress fueled drunken hook-up with a classmate will never be a good idea. Chuuya has done an excellent job of avoiding this exact reunion for about three weeks now, but his luck seems to have run out today. Maybe he can still keep walking and try to act like he heard nothing. Chuuya takes another step forward and silently prays that Dazai will find someone else to harass for the time being. He’s only a few steps away from the liquor store and if anything comes between him and his wine, there will be hell to pay.

As it turns out, the universe does hate Chuuya, afterall.

“Rude, Chuuya.” the voice chirrups happily, as a bandaged hand plants itself heavily on his shoulder, effectively pinning him to the spot. Dazai pulls him by the shoulder until Chuuya is met with a face full of smiling, trench coated, suicidal asshole.

The one, singular fucking person Chuuya didn’t want to see. Of course it’s him. Somehow, he still looks pretty. Very pretty. Even when he’s being a shit and his cheeks are stained red from the cold.

Dazai has a lopsided grin on his face, one hand casually on his hip and the other resting on Chuuya’s shoulder still. His eyes are fixed down on Chuuya though, and Chuuya can see his own frowning, shivering reflection in that goofy face. He chides himself for not going to a bar instead to avoid this fateful meeting.

Chuuya brushes the hand off his shoulder because personal space, seriously, and puts his hand up to pause Dazai, “Stop. I’m busy. Please stop following me in and out of campus.” He finishes with a pointed look, shuffling his feet in the snow to retain heat. Couldn’t Dazai attack him somewhere warmer?

“Not happening again.” he grits out, placing a foot on the side of the road. Chuuya is on a mission, and that mission is currently being thwarted. He shivers and adds, “It’s fucking cold, how are you wearing that?” gesturing at Dazai’s bandages that somehow count as clothing.

Dazai beams, and Chuuya groans internally. Of course, giving Dazai any attention whatsoever is a bad, bad thing. And Chuuya mentally prepares himself to become forcibly deaf as Dazai opens his mouth, eyes twinkling. “Well, you see. I was freezing.” Dazai pouts and gestures at the snow on his boots, “But then I saw you, Chuuya!” and Dazai lifts his hands to knock Chuuya’s hat off, resting them on his head.

Dazai smiles, all teeth, “Your hair is like fire,. And I, like a moth to the flame.” He finishes by patting Chuuya’s head, fallen hat lying forgotten in the snow.

Chuuya gives him an unimpressed face.

“I would never have expected to run into you at a place like this.” Dazai adds solemnly, nodding his head at the sign next to him advertising discount alcohol. Cheap Tuesdays were a beautiful, and rare thing. Of course Dazai purposely sought him out to ruin it. Just like when he approached Chuuya last time in offer of a ‘study date’.

Clearly Dazai has no clue about the correct protocol of a one night stand.

Chuuya leans down to pick up his hat and reminds himself that the remedy to this is waiting for him inside the store. He grits his teeth and mutters quietly, “How has no one murdered you yet.” Because it is a very real question.

Chuuya stands up straight, clears his throat, “It wasn’t nice seeing you. Let’s never do it again. Bye.” He starts to walk off, trying to create some distance. And also, wine.

Instead, Dazai takes a large step and plants himself in front of Chuuya again, “I have an idea. Let’s drink. Together.”

Worst suggestion ever made. The last time Dazai had suggested they add beers after class Chuuya had woken up with only half his shirt on, his pants nowhere to be seen, and a naked, hungover Dazai in his bed. He’d taken one look at the unfolding situation, decided that it was too much for his Sunday morning brain to process, and promptly kicked the still half naked Dazai out. Then he proceeded to puke the memories out in the toilet.

It turns out Chuuya was a very, very suggestible person when uninhibited. And also, Dazai didn’t understand the meaning of ‘casual’.

So Chuuya gives him his answer.

“No.” The answer is final.

“I’ll pay.”

Chuuya’s mind instantly jumps to the meager savings he has in his bank account. He swallows uncomfortably as he remembers the price of rent that’s due this week. Still, any situations that involve Dazai and alcohol end in disaster, the whole campus acknowledges this fact.

Their current situation is a testimony of that.

He can’t let it happen again. So Chuuya grits his teeth, and prepares to give a well thought out list of why that is.

“Fine. But it’s all on you.”

Fuck. He’s too weak. The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Dazai beams at him again, “I knew you wouldn’t say no to me.” clasping his hands together with a face full of glee. Chuuya is already starting to feel the regret churning in his stomach. If this is going to happen, he might as well try to con Dazai into buying him a pack of cigarettes as well. This will be a productive night, Chuuya tells himself.

…….

Somehow they end up at Chuuyas apartment, cramped over the wooden kitchen table with the cheapest bottle of red wine shared between them. The dim hanging light that Dazai keeps knocking his head on is the only thing saving Chuuya from being able to see just how cheap the bottle’s label is. Chuuya’s stomach feels warm, and he can feel the heat slowly spreading to his neck and face.

It’s only when he stumbles to the toilet and misses the light switch does he realise just how fucking drunk he is.

Shit.

He should have known better.

Nothing comes for free when dealing with Dazai. Whether it’s class notes, or a fucking blow job, there is always a repayment that is meant to be magically procured.

That creep is going to take advantage of him. Again. In fact, it was probably his entire plan from before Chuuya even managed to fall asleep in his lecture earlier. Dazai was crafty like that, he had way too much time on his hands and quite possibly an illegal tracking device.

That bastard had probably been following Chuuya since he stepped off campus. So much for Chuuya’s meticulous avoidance strategy.

As he’s washing his hands, Chuuya looks up at the mirror and fixes his reflection with a glare, “Stupid, stupid” he slaps his hands on his cheeks, hoping to sober up. His palms are wet and cool on his face, but it does little to reverse the red warmth that’s spreading over his cheeks. The realization of how drunk he is coupled with will Dazai realise I’m drunk sends him into a panic.

Chuuya is an easily persuaded drunk. The fact that Dazai’s still here supports this fact. He needs to leave. Now. Before Chuuya says something stupid. Like about a blow job debt because last time— the only time, Dazai and been way too drunk to finish.

He leaves the bathroom and makes a beeline for the kitchen. He finds Dazai gulping down the wine there, resting his arms against the table for support. Chuuya reaches to grab a pillow off the couch and hurls it at Dazai, giving a smile when it smacks Dazai right in the back of the head.

“What’s that for?” he slurs, rubbing his head like the sook he is.

“Alright, time to leave Dazai.” Chuuya says, gesturing towards Dazai’s coat hanging by the front door. He takes a seat on the couch to take his shoes off, adding an extra yawn to show Dazai that he’s tired. When he’s tired Dazai has a tendency of becoming bored, moving onto new people to harass. Chuuya’s hoping that Dazai will suddenly remember the joys of causing stress for his housemate, Akutagawa. That kid is the most uptight person Chuuya’s ever met, and Chuuya still isn’t entirely sure of the nature of Dazai’s relationship with him. The kid either wants to bone him, or be him. Chuuya hopes it’s the latter, for his own peace of mind.

Dazai leans back to look at him, “It’s too far of a walk back to mine in this snow, I’d get sick.” he says, his cheeks red from alcohol.

“You’re like a cockroach. You don’t get sick. Or die.”

Dazai scratches at his head, “Not true. Did you know that cockroaches can only die from being crushed?”, he frowns, “I don’t want to get crushed to death. That sounds painful.”

God, Chuuya had forgotten just how stubborn he could be.

Chuuya presses his knuckles to his temples to stop the oncoming headache. He’s reaching boiling point, “Look, I’ve got a presentation due tomorrow morning. It’s getting late and I need my sleep. I don’t want to wake up at 3am to find the fire brigade at my house just because you decided to stick your head in the oven and try to gas yourself.” Chuuya throws his shoe at the wall as he says it. Tonight is going to be tough.

Dazai stands, and for a moment Chuuya believes that everything is going to be just fine. Instead, Dazai takes a big step with his hand reached out towards his coat, misses by a mile and falls heavily onto the couch, pressing his face into the cushions.

“I forgot Chuuya can be so mean!” He groans, kicking his legs around like a beached whale. He rolls over to face Chuuya, bandages loosening around his arms, “Did Dostoevsky tell you to do this?” Dazai pouts. This is the most ridiculous thing Chuuya’s ever heard.

He literally has an overgrown, drunk baby rolling around his kitchen.

Unreasonable idiot. This is such a waste of time.

“For fucks sake.

Chuuya pinches the bridge of his nose, and chooses to ignore Dazai’s kicking and slapping over on the couch. Because Dazai is secretly a fucking child. He moves to pour himself another glass of wine, fingers gripping the bottle hard enough to go white, “Fine. Fine, you can stay - ” he forgoes the cup and holds the bottle of wine right up to his mouth, taking a huge gulp. “You get to stay right where you are. Sleep on the couch. If I wake up to find you in my bed, I will kill you.” He slams the bottle back onto the table with a thud.

He deserves points for enthusiasm. Because it’s bloody cold and Chuuya’s heating system doesn’t work for shit. Having Dazai in his bed is actually a good way to stave off frostbite.

But there’s no way he’s telling Dazai that. With his over inflated ego, it would just help solidify Dazai’s stupid belief that everyone on the university campus wants him. Because Chuuya definitely does not.

He’s been there, done that. Not worth waking up to an angry Akutagawa furiously pounding on his apartment front door, questioning him why Dazai hadn’t come back to their shared house last night, all the while Atsushi is trying to pull Akytagawa away by tugging the hem of his black coat with a “H-Hello Chuuya, please don’t worry about him! Akutagawa just needs a c-coffee and-” suddenly he tugs a bit too hard and Akutagawa’s arm hits Chuuya’s stomach to hold himself, he misses and Chuuya falls forward on top and he grabs at Atsushi’s shirt, ripping the fabric as Chuuya faceplants it into Atsushi’s crotch. Somehow all three of them end up on the floor, and Chuuya’s only in his briefs.

Yeah, no. Never fucking again.

Dazai has already brought him enough embarrassment from that incident. Whenever he walks past Atsushi’s scrawny ass in lectures, the kid goes wide eyed and manages to turn a shade of brighter red than Chuuya’s hair. Which would have been easy to ignore if he didn’t then see Atsushi frantically whispering to a small, blonde boy with a straw hat, both of them turning red with as they openly pointed at Chuuya with big eyes. What the fuck.

“Chuuuuya.” Dazai’s whining breaks him out of his stupor. His face is still mushed in between the gap in the couch, and his arms are flailing above trying to catch Chuuya’s attention. “Help me, Chuuya!” as if Chuuya held the big secret to sobriety, when the opposite is actually the case.

Chuuya takes another gulp of wine and decides to throw his remaining shoe at Dazai’s back.

“Ow.” Dazai sits up to rub at his shoulder where the shoe bounced off, “See? You’re always so mean to me Chuuya.” His mouth settles into a small, mock frown.

Chuuya groans, “I am being nice. Nicer than you deserve, bloody hell. You’re the lunk of crap who refused to leave like a normal person!” He glares, and adds in “And I also know you were fucking following me.”

Dazai glances up at this, eyes wide and wine stained lips falling open and Chuuya thinks it’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. “Chuuya! I would never do such a thing.” He slaps his hands to his knees, “I merely asked Kunikida how to melt the ice in my heart,” Dazai adjusts imaginary glasses on his nose and puts on Kunikida’s voice “Find a fire, you imbecile! He told me”, drunkenly grinning and adds “So, indeed I did. Chuuya’s hair is the brightest flame I’ve seen!” He finishes by throwing his hands in the air.

“What the shit—” Chuuya throws another cushion at Dazai’s face, “is wrong with you?”

Dazai ducks under the cushion, “Well, it didn’t work. It’s still cold out there. So here I am.” He scratches his chin, pauses and opens his dumb, lying mouth, “Maybe I need to be kissed by fire.” He nods solemnly, poking at his lips.

Chuuya chokes. And for a few seconds he thinks the red dots in his vision are the bloodstain evidence of Dazai’s murder. He forgot that alcohol makes him less tolerant to stupid behaviour, and Dazai.

How did he not see this one coming? More importantly, why did he ever sleep this guy before?

“Are you listening to yourself?” Chuuya shouldn’t even bother asking, because the obvious answer is no.

“Yes. In fact, I think this is one of my best ideas as of yet.”

“...you wish.” Chuuya’s brain is too fuzzy and tired for him to muster up a proper come back. “I need to rest. Touch me in my sleep and I’ll tear your guts out and feed them to you.”

Chuuya walks off to grab a rug for the couch. If he didn’t, Dazai is sure to come and molest him in his sleep, under the pretense of “sharing body heat.” When he comes back he tosses the rug in Dazai’s direction and begins to shrug his jacket off.

“Stripping for me already? Last time you were shy to take it all off. I’m flattered.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m going to bed.” he pauses, “And so should you, Dazai.”

It’s when Chuuya goes to hang his jacket up on the wall, that Dazai shoots out a hand to grab his leg and draw him closer. Alcohol reflexes have turned his balance to shit, and instead he falls on top of Dazai, ass sitting on the edge of Dazai’s knee. It’s suggestive, and if Chuuya was more sober he would have instantly shoved himself up and away.

Dazai’s knee bounces and Chuuya is a few seconds away from headbutting him into oblivion.

Before he can move, Dazai is slowly leaning into his ear, “Just one kiss, for me.” There’s a smile on his lips, as though all he really wants is one singular kiss.

Chuuya blushes, and he’s unsure if it’s from embarrassment or annoyance. This is just like the time before. Hooking up with Dazai had seemed like a good idea at the time, because Chuuya was so fucking drunk. And despite how much of an annoying idiot he is, Dazai can actually be quite pretty. But still, Dazai is a distraction. He has enough shit on his workload right now. He doesn’t have time for Dazai’s hot and cold act. He never knows which one is the mask.

“Get some sleep.” Chuuya awkwardly pats Dazai on the head, rather than adhering to his request. He doesn’t know what it is Dazai’s exactly after, he’s unreadable. He was always unsure what to make of it after last time. Dazai had begun to trail behind him like a lost puppy, and Chuuya believes that Dazai has no understanding about the concept of drunken one night stands. It wasn't like they enjoyed each others company, just alcohol and orgasms. Chuuya doesn't know exactly where it was he went so wrong.

Chuuya pushes himself off of Dazai’s lap, “I’ll see you in class.” He avoids looking at Dazai's face, hiding his own confused gaze by looking away. And with that, Chuuya gets up to go into his bedroom, leaving Dazai on the couch alone. He feels awkward. Back there he had almost given in and kissed the idiot. He’s just glad he’d managed to get away.

He blames it on Dazai’s stupidly attractive face. He almost looks like a girl.

Chuuya lands on his bed with a thud, and groans into the pillows.

Why did Dazai have to be as annoying as he is pretty?

Chapter Text

When Chuuya wakes up, he instantly wishes he hadn’t.

He’s alone, still fully clothed with drool staining his white pillows. He has a splitting headache pounding behind his eyes and his mouth tastes like something died in it. Fucking lightweight. He misses the luxury of youth that allowed him to drink a whole bottle to himself without feeling like he’s been hit by a truck.

Speaking of trucks, Chuuya hopes Dazai has been hit by one on the way to class.

He decides to roll out of bed, eventually. He has to grab his papers for morning lectures, and find a spare minute to prepare himself for presentations. Plus, there’s always a strong possibility Dazai has managed to tie a noose around the fan.

Or jump off the balcony.

It’s a lovely thought, but is accompanied by a tonne of paperwork of which Chuuya has no intention of fulfilling. The Dazai-free life sounds like a great idea, but like all things orchestrated by Dazai, involves a hefty level of stress and disaster that somehow gets laid onto Chuuya.

When Chuuya finally motivates himself to stumble out of his bedroom and into the kitchen he is unable to see any sign of Dazai.

Weird, but not unwelcome.

The couch is made, with the blanket he provided neatly folded up to the side. The cushions and pillows are all neatly realigned as well, to the point where it looks like no one had even slept there. Chuuya stares dubiously for a few seconds before he moves to pick a cushion up, checking whether Dazai had puked behind it and was using it as a makeshift cover.

Nope. It really is clean.

When Chuuya looks to the left he sees Dazai’s shoes are gone as well. Which is strange. He had been fully prepared to wake up to find his apartment on the internet with half his belongings auctioned off, possibly with photos of him in his bed being advertised as a discount escort service. Because Dazai is charming enough to do so.

Chuuya is definitely welcoming this change in events.

He goes to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee, raking through his piled up unwashed dishes to find something, anything, clean. He deserves some caffeine after this hell.

It’s as he’s bending over that he hears the front door open. The sound of heavy footsteps heading towards the kitchen table and a plastic bag being set down. When he looks up he sees Dazai pulling out a seat for himself, looking as chipper and awake as the morning sun.

It’s not fair.

“I thought my door has a lock.” Chuuya says, because it’s early morning and his brain is failing to function like normal human.

“Oh! I borrowed your key. I just had a spare one made as well. In case you lose yours.” It’s spoken so innocently that for a moment Chuuya fully believes that Dazai made him a spare key out of the goodness of his heart. That moment is shattered though.

“So I can crash here if I need to.” Dazai smiles. “Your place is a lot closer to the campus than mine. And it’s always good to have a place to take naps in during class breaks.”

Chuuya contemplates the clean up of throwing a glass mug at Dazai. It’s too much work, he decides.

“So you got a key cut to my apartment. Without my permission.”

He shouldn’t even be surprised.

“That’s illegal, I think.” Chuuya adds, glaring at the offending key that Dazai’s proudly holding up.

Dazai takes a seat, “I think it’s quite smart, and also logical.” He fumbles through the plastic bag he set on the table. “I know Chuuya can be quite angry when he’s hungover. So I brought you breakfast.”

Chuuya peers over the kitchen top to inspect. It’s a bag of lollies and an apple, coated with toffee. “That is not breakfast.” He declares, because who in their right mind enjoys rotting their teeth on a Wednesday morning. Maybe Dazai. Definitely Dazai.

“But I bought it just for you!” Which sounds like bullshit. Dazai has always been the shitty little fuck who brought sweets into class and shoved the wrappers into Chuuya’s pockets when he was unaware. One time Chuuya had gone to the bathroom only to find melting toffee in his hair. Dazai had laughed when confronted, and proceeded to dance out of punching line when he suggested that Chuuya was now an edible piece of man candy.

“Wrong. You bought it just for you.”

Dazai’s eyes go comically wide, “Chuuya! Don’t be so negative. I thought of you as I bought it. Plus, I also got you something that I thought you’d like.” Smarmy little shit, Chuuya thinks.

God no. What else is there?
“It’s your favourite. Oat porridge with maple syrup.”

Chuuya just stares at him blankly, because when have oats ever been included as someone's favourite food?

“The maple syrup is made with rum.”

Ah, much better.

“Thanks, I guess?” Chuuya says, it feels weird saying thank you to Dazai. But rum syrup is great, and there’s never a time in which Chuuya is going to say no to it. Hell, even if Dostoyevsky came around and told Chuuya that it was made with sperm of a horny, flea ridden goat, he still wouldn’t say no.

“Now you owe me two blowjobs!” Dazai exclaims. Chuuya chokes on his coffee and manages to spray it all over the kitchen floor and yesterday's clothes. Dazai said it so casually, like he was asking Chuuya to pass the newspaper rather than requesting him to perform lewd sexual acts.

“You’re so fucked up.” Is all Chuuya manages to get out through clenched teeth. Dazai really did seem to lack any sort of verbal filter, and didn’t know the simple rule of not addressing the elephant in the room. Dazai is all about everything that Chuuya is not. Subtlety, as as a starter. Denial, as a close second.

“So, is that a yes?”

Chuuya spits out more of his drink, “No! No. And stop asking! We’re done talking, get a move on out of here.”

Instead of disagreeing, Dazai simply nods. “I’m fine with that.” Like he ever had the option not to be. “We can just stick to PG behaviour. It’s always good to get to know someone better before anyway.”

Before what? Before Chuuya finally breaks and decides to skewer Dazai on a pole like a kebab?

Before they have sex again?

No. No. NO.

Clearly Dazai didn’t seem to understand how to abide by Chuuya’s “one time only” event rule. In fact, he appeared to be campaigning for the exact opposite.

“Are you fine with leaving? Like, right now?” Chuuya growls.

It doesn’t seem to have any effect.

Dazai unwraps a sweet and throws the wrapper on the carpet, “Not until I see you eat. You’re too skinny. And short.” Even though Chuuya has perfect proportions, thank you very much.

“Skinny? I’ll show you who’s skinny, you scrawny bastard. And I’m the perfect proportion, you’re just too tall and lanky.” If he complains about his height, Dazai will just keep pushing.

His words are ignored, instead Dazai looks up and casts an appreciative stare at Chuuya. “I suppose you are. The perfect proportion, that is.” It’s a compliment, Chuuya thinks. He never has quite mastered the art of backhanded praise like Dazai has. Still, it’s uncommon for Dazai to give compliments of any kind.

“Very well proportioned, I’d say. Especially when your naked and I’ve got my fingers wrapped around you’re—

“Oh my fucking god, shut up!” Chuuya hurles a teaspoon at him. Effectively cutting off Dazai’s inappropriate monologue. Figures, he can’t say nice shit without trying to say something else behind it. For the thousandth time, Chuuya questions his ability to cope with being surrounded by morons.

Fuck’s sake, Dazai’s going to make him late for class with this bullshit.

“Alright, time’s up. Out!” he commands, like he’s dealing with an untrained dog rather than a horny classmate.

Dazai appears to sense the impending rage brewing, because he shoves five pieces of toffee into his mouth and makes a beeline for the exit. “Bye Chuuya~” he sing songs, ducking quickly to avoid a fork aimed at his head this time. Chuuya sees the edge of his beige coat disappear around the corner.

When the door shuts Chuuya groans. He’s sapped of energy and still radiating with anger.

Somehow, their almost drunk kiss failed to be mentioned. Chuuya thanks the lucky stars for that one.

It’s 4pm, snowing outside, and Chuuya feels his stomach rumble in need of a hot meal.

He finishes last class for the day, cursing loudly as he exits into the cold wind. He really should have brought a jacket for this weather because he thinks his balls are about to freeze off an neuter him. As soon as he makes it out the classroom door he discovers Dazai talking to a girl from his seminar outside his hall. She’s a cute little thing with black hair and pigtails, a strangely traditional red dress on with flowers in her hair. She’s smiling up at Dazai while he puts a hand on her head.

Chuuya dislikes her immediately.

“Ah, Chuuya! There you are. I was just talking to the lovely Kyouka while I was waiting for you.” Shit, Chuuya’s been spotted already, and the slight frown on his face is quickly replaced by a look of annoyance.

He nods at the girl in acknowledgement and then looks at Dazai, his stupid bandages flapping around in the wind. “Why?” He questions. Why is Dazai waiting for him? Classes are over for today and they don’t share any assignments together. So basically, fuck off.

“Since we didn’t get to finish breakfast together, I thought I’d walk you home. Maybe grab some dinner for us on the way back to yours.” Dazai finishes with a smile, his grin so wide that his eyes have gone squinted.

What the fuck?

Walk him home?

“I’m not a dog that requires walking every day.” Chuuya snorts, because this is all starting to sound like poppycock to him. He’d much prefer his journey home to be free of annoyances. That’s how it’s always been.

“Nonsense. Who knows what could happen to you if you’re alone?” Dazai presses a finger to his head in thought, “You’re so little. A child molester might kidnap you and I’ll never see you again. Can’t let that happen when I’m around.”

Kidnapping is beginning to look like the preferable option to Chuuya.

Chuuya takes another look at the girl next to Dazai; Kyouka. She’s pretty, in a sweet way. She’s small, with a soft face and long hair and a gentle yet serious expression. Possibly a good match for Dazai if his fetish for shorter people is actually a real thing. Chuuya pauses, this could actually work in his favour for once.

“Kyouka’s petite. She looks like she needs protecting more than I do.” He argues.

Now can he fuck off? Chuuya’s got a bed waiting for him at home.

“Actually, Kyouka here is dear friends with Atsushi. She’s waiting for him so they visit a shrine together.” Kyouka nods in agreeance with Dazai. Chuuya feels the distinct pain of watching his plan get shot to shit. There’s no getting rid of Dazai without murdering him, the man is like a leech that’s tucked its teeth deep into the skin. Any attempts at getting rid of him only seem to backfire for the other person.

Maybe he can outrun Dazai back to his.

Nah, his legs are too short and he knows Dazai will purposely stick his own feet out to trip Chuuya over. Similar things have happened before, and Chuuya’s not a fan of going to the emergency room with broken bones just because Dazai thinks it’s a hilarious idea to trip Chuuya over when walking through traffic.

“Fine. But you’re paying for dinner.” Chuuya gives in. The offer of a free meal was too appealing to pass up. Broke university students are susceptible to many forms of manipulation. The idea of free food is warmly welcomed when Chuuya’s usual diet consists of a cheap bottle of wine and instant noodles.

God, he gives in too easily under the tiniest amount of peer pressure.

“Let me hold your books for you then. You’re much too small to be carrying stuff that heavy with your height.” Dazai smirks. “Good thing I’m around to give you a hand.”

Kyouka puts her hand to her mouth and giggles. Chuuya snaps.

“Seriously! Stop it, you fucking idiot. Keep making jokes about my height, hair or face and I will kick you up the ass so hard your mother will feel it!”

Dazai just laughs and pulls Kyouka into a quick farewell embrace. His hand lightly running through her hair as he whispers something that Chuuya can’t quite make out. When they pull apart Kyouka’s cheeks are tinged red with embarrassment.

Huh, well they certainly could make a cute couple, Chuuya thinks with a small amount of revulsion. He’s kissed Dazai and though he can’t quite remember it, he’s sure that Dazai couldn’t, wouldn’t be able to use his tongue to save his life.

When Chuuya moves to walk away he hears the footsteps of Dazai trying to catch up with his pace. He doesn’t bother to look at Dazai when he sees the other’s position next to him. So the fucker really is planning to walk him home. Stupidly long legs put him at an advantage, damn it.

“So.” Chuuya says, pausing to find the right words.“You know that girl pretty well?” He probes.

“Is that jealousy I’m sensing? I’m flattered, really.”

“No!” Chuuya bristles. He’s not jealous, what a fucking joke. He’s shared more than enough classes, assignments and alcohol with Dazai to last five fucking life times. Yes, he slept with him once. And he’s been regretting it ever since because Dazai doesn’t know the proper social etiquette of if you don’t get a call back the next day, you won’t get one at all.

“What if I said I wanted to date her?”

“... you wouldn’t.”

Dazai shrugs, “She’s sweet.” Which is true, from what Chuuya could see. “But I prefer someone who’s a little bit more… rough.”

Chuuya’s eyes go wide. Is Dazai calling him a hoodlum?

Is he saying?—

Dazai turns to face him as they round the corner to his place. His brown eyes are half lidded from his smile, “Maybe someone like Akatugawa. Don’t you think me and him would be great together?”

Chuuya chokes. He did not need to hear that. Mental images of Akutagawa draping his black coat over Dazai’s bandaged shoulders comes into his mind. He pictures Dazai pushing the kid against a while and dropping down to undo his pants, mouthing against Akutagawa’s erection until he’s fully hard.

Chuuya wonders if a blood vessel may have burst in his brain. So he says the first thing that comes to mind.

“I don’t know if Atsushi would like that.”

Thank fuck they’ve finally reached Chuuya’s apartment, he just wants to raid the fridge for anything heatable and get Dazai out of his hair.

“Akutagawa might be a bit much for him to handle though.”

The unspoken ‘but I’m not’ separates them.

“Do I really give a shit if you like Akutagawa? No.”

Chuuya reminds himself that no, he is not a teenage girl.

“Aw Chuuya! You’re no fun. Maybe you’ll loosen up after we eat.” Dazai pats at his grumbling belly.

“Hey! No! I said you’re not coming in here. I want to eat in peace.”

Chuuya shoves his key into the door and steps into his home, he’s about to shove the door shut on Dazai, but the man kicks out his foot to wedge against the door.

“Hold up, partner. We’ll save the conversation for dinner.”

Dinner? What the shit. Dazai is literally inviting himself in.

Dazai holds up a hand, “Plus, I accidentally left my jacket inside. How about we go in together.”

“I have 2 minute noodles, and 1 spare minute for you to grab your coat.” Chuuya grumbles, “You have 3 minutes overall to get the hell out of my sight. Start.”

“Whatever you say, Chuuya! I’ll be as quick as I can.” And with that he dashes to the kitchen at a run.

Really now, Dazai was not going to only be 3 minutes. He shouldn’t have been surprised. As per usual, things with Dazai never turn out just as planned.