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Dazai had never subscribed to the idea of “happy little accidents”; most things in his life tended to be raging dumpster fires from which he could sometimes rise like a phoenix, but usually just sat amongst the burnt rubble, trying to find meaning in the scorch marks.
Ending up in college was something he couldn’t escape from, a miscalculation on his part when he should have been dead by 17 years old. Instead, he had found himself majoring in business, so close to graduating with a “promising future” ahead of him “despite his inclinations.” A future Dazai had never wanted but couldn’t be bothered to find a way out of. It wasn’t like he had a different future in mind outside of a strong beam and a couple feet of rope.
All of that to say, he didn’t believe that it was an accident that his mother had found him sitting at the cafe he frequented after class, a lovely place to sketch the lovely barista while pretending to be looking at anyone else. And it certainly wasn’t happy when she invited herself to his table to complain to him about how she didn’t want to deal with their business partner’s underhanded comments about how the supposed heir to the Tsushima family business was still single at the old, decrepit age of 22.
“I know, mom,” Dazai sighed as she went on about how he had been in college for years, was so close to graduating, and had not once brought home a nice, pretty girl. Not that she knew about how many nice, pretty girls he had brought back to his apartment on his own. And nice, pretty boys. “I just haven’t really been focused on that, I’ve told you-”
“Oh please!” She said, her voice just on the wrong side of an appropriate volume for the quiet, calm atmosphere of the cafe. Dazai caught the eye of the barista for only a moment and fought back a smile at the annoyed look on his face. “You’re way too smart to think I would fall for that again. I’m sure you could be teaching the classes you’re taking, it’s not like you need to spend all your time studying and cramming for exams you could do in your sleep. So, what’s the real reason?”
He had been feeding her the same words over and over once she refused to accept that he was simply uninterested in dating anyone. And now it seemed that even that wasn’t enough to dissuade her.
“If you just haven’t found anyone up to our standards–” Our standards, she said, because of course anyone he did date would need to be approved, “–then I know a few girls who I could introduce you to. They’re a little older than you, but they are certainly perfect fits!”
Remember the raging dumpster fire? This was, of course, one of those moments. Dazai was tired, and despite what his mother had assumed he did actually study for his exams, and even though he had his fair share of escapades he really wasn’t interested in finding a nice girl to settle down with. He had been up late last night talking with Odasaku about the frustration of their advanced statistics class and everything else, and he had just wanted to relax and sketch to unwind on one of his only free days.
So that is to say, Dazai was frustrated, exhausted, and certainly not thinking things through when he said, “I don’t need you to set me up, mom, I already have a boyfriend.” Ah. Crap.
His mother’s eyes widened, first in glee and then shock as she registered the final word of that sentence. “A… boyfriend?!” She nearly shrieked the word and Dazai caught the eye of the barista again. He knew from experience that they were one more shout from getting kicked out and he knew that said barista was more than capable of physically removing them himself.
The… barista.
“Yes,” Dazai doubled down. Backing out now would only prove that he was lying and if he wanted his mother off his back, he had to make her believe he was serious. He allowed his lips to turn into a softer smile as though thinking about someone he truly loved.
It worked to make his mother’s shock grow stronger. “Wha- Just- I mean-” she sputtered, her hands flying around in an almost comical manner as she tried to readjust every preconceived notion she had ever had about her son. Dazai held his smile in the face of his mother’s floundering, waiting to see where she would land. To be or not to be homophobic. Finally, after a particularly drawn out breath, she shut her mouth and looked at him. “A boyfriend?” she asked again, much calmer this time.
Dazai simply nodded his head again, letting his eyes stray over to the barista once more. It was a gamble, and knowing his mother then if he wasn’t careful it would be one he would lose, but if it got him the cute barista’s phone number finally then maybe it would be worth it, right?
As expected, the distracted look caught his mother’s attention in no time and she followed his gaze to where the barista was smiling as he cashed out some group of teenagers before turning to get started on whatever they had ordered.
“Really?” His mother’s voice was nearing shrill as she said it. And Dazai knew, of course, why that was even before she said– “He works in a coffee shop, Osamu! Did he even go to school? Look at his ears, and his-his nails. God, Osamu, you can’t be serious.”
Okay, so not overtly homophobic, but still there. Fantastic.
Now if only Dazai actually knew enough about the barista to answer those questions truthfully… Oh well.
“He’s in my class,” Dazai said, the lie as smooth on his tongue as the coffee the barista had given him earlier. He left out which class, of course, knowing that specifying might dig him into a deeper hole in the long run. “And he treats me well.”
“Hmph.” It was clear that his mother didn’t care if the other man was in any of Dazai’s high-level classes. “But is he-” she hesitated for a moment, turning her gaze back to Dazai and lowering her voice to say, “-well-kept? It’s hard to assume so with how he looks.”
Offense sparked in Dazai’s stomach for only a moment before he shoved it aside. As though this wasn’t easily the most beautiful man Dazai had ever seen. “He is,” Dazai answered, pushing out from the table as he noticed the group of teenagers finally leaving the cafe with their drinks in hand. He gave his mother a placating smile before approaching the cafe’s counter.
“Hi, can I help- oh, it’s you.” The barista’s voice dropped a pitch or three as he turned and met Dazai’s eyes. His face held the slightest hint of confusion that was buried under the usual annoyance that he tended to direct at Dazai. “Listen, can you and your friend stop being so loud?”
Dazai grinned. “We can, but only if you do me a favor.”
The response he got was narrowed eyes and a sigh. “How about you stop being loud and I don’t throw you and your friend out on your asses in the snow?”
Fair enough, but– “That’s not half as fun as what I wanted to ask you!”
The barista’s–Dazai flicked his eyes down to the nametag he had on, Chuuya, Chuuya–Chuuya’s voice didn’t waver as he said, “I doubt it would be half as fun for me.”
“You haven’t even heard my proposal yet.”
“I don’t need to to know that my answer will probably be no.”
“Come on,” Dazai whined as he draped himself over the counter, much to Chuuya’s clear annoyance. “Just hear me out!”
After shoving Dazai off the counter, Chuuya crossed his arms and leaned back against the table where he made the drinks. “Fine. What is your proposal to stop causing a ruckus in the shop?”
Like the cat that caught the mouse, Dazai grinned as he leaned in again, hands planted on the counter for leverage to get as close as he could to the barista, dropping his voice lower as though he were whispering a secret. “I need you to be my pretend-boyfriend for a week.”
“You- you what?!” Chuuya shouted, catching his own volume too late and turning around as though he weren’t now the one creating a ruckus. After a few breaths, he turned back around to face Dazai. “And why the fuck would I even agree to that?” Dazai shrugged.
“In the name of the holiday spirit?” He said, his voice sugary-sweet. “To help out fellow man?”
“Sounds like a fucking headache and a half, and it’d be more trouble than just throwing you out.” Despite his words, Chuuya didn’t look too put-off from the idea. That was enough of a good sign for Dazai’s smile to grow as he waited the other man out, leaning forward ever-so-slightly on the counter again, pleased when Chuuya didn’t lean away. After a few moments of silence, of Chuuya eyeing Dazai up and down, biting his lower lip in a way that left it slightly redder than before, Chuuya asked, “What’s in it for me?”
“We stop making a ruckus,” Dazai said. “Isn’t that how this conversation started?”
The glare he got in return did nothing to deter his smile. “And I thought we established that the payment for that was not kicking you out?”
Dazai simply shrugged. “What would you want in payment, then?”
It took another few seconds for Chuuya to answer, though it certainly wasn’t what Dazai had been anticipating. “I want you to draw something for me.”
Drawing back, Dazai blinked dumbly for a few seconds before schooling his expression into something falsely self-satisfied, a mask to the sudden anxiety he felt. “How do you know I’m not actually a terrible artist? I could simply draw you a few stick figures and say that I tried my best!”
“I’ve seen your sketches,” Chuuya said, and now he had the self-satisfied smirk. “My hair isn’t that long when it’s down, by the way.”
Oh. Oh, okay.
That was… Dazai wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling now. He refused to feel embarrassed about it–or apologetic, though he knew based on the interactions that they’d had in the past that if Chuuya had wanted him to stop sketching him, then he would have made that clear. Instead of just… ignoring it? Dazai wondered briefly how long Chuuya had known that Dazai came here to sketch him, wondered when it was that Chuuya had seen one of his sketches.
He didn’t voice any of this. He couldn’t; it would feel too much like a defeat when he took in the grin on the other’s lips. So instead, he simply smiled back, batting his eyes in an overly-flirtatious show as he said, “Oh? You’ll have to show me some time.”
The blush was faint but there as Chuuya crossed his arms again, finally leaning away from Dazai. “So is that a yes?”
“Sure,” Dazai said. “What do you want a sketch of?”
“Not a sketch, I want a full drawing,” Chuuya corrected.
“Hm,” Dazai hummed, tapping his chin in a show of thought. “I don’t really do real drawings, though. I usually just sketch.”
Chuuya waved a hand as though he were brushing the thought aside. “Fine, whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you what I want later, but your friend looks like she’s going to make her way over here.”
Dazai glanced over his shoulder and, sure enough, his mother was picking up her stuff and standing from the table, shooting a few looks over towards Dazai and Chuuya as she did. “Oh, time to start then,” Dazai said, whipping his attention back to Chuuya. “That’s my mom, Tane,” he quickly explained. “She’s going to ask you about a Christmas party that I’ve definitely just spent this entire conversation explaining to you.”
“She already thinks we’re dating?” Chuuya’s question was incredulous.
“Yep!” Dazai said, smile growing at the look of annoyance Chuuya was giving him. “It’s a business party and you are so delighted, right love?”
The endearment was tacked on as he heard his mother coming to a stop directly behind him, watching as Chuuya’s eyes flickered to his mother before looking back to Dazai. There was a small smile plastered on his face now, nervous and meek and entirely fake at the corners.
“Right,” Chuuya muttered, meeting Dazai’s eyes again.
“Osamu,” Dazai’s mother said and he turned around to her as though surprised to see her. It was an act he knew she saw through, but one he held onto nonetheless. If she thought she could read him with this then she would be less likely to question the whole boyfriend thing. “Do you plan to introduce me to your… boyfriend?”
There was a cringe in her voice and Dazai caught Chuuya shifting ever so slightly at the tone. “Of course! Mom, this is Chuuya, my boyfriend. Chuuya, this is my mother, Tane.”
Chuuya held out a hand cordially, and although his words were pleasant, there was an underlying danger to his tone that Dazai wondered where came from. “Nakahara Chuuya. It’s nice to meet you, Dazai-san, Osamu has told me wonderful things about you.” Yeah, Dazai was not going to be thinking about Chuuya saying his name.
It seemed his mother either couldn’t hear the hint of warning in Chuuya’s voice or she was actively choosing to ignore it, because she laughed delicately. “I’m sure he hasn’t,” she said. She looked at Chuuya’s hand for a long moment before moving to rest hers in it as though maybe he would bite her. For his part, Chuuya was a perfect gentlemen despite Dazai’s mother’s obvious hesitance around him. “I take it my Osamu has invited you to our company’s Christmas party?”
“He has.” Chuuya turned a bright smile towards Dazai, something that the taller man had never been on the receiving end of before, had rarely even seen from the barista in the past. “I must admit, formal parties aren’t really my scene, but I would be honored to attend.”
“Of course they aren’t,” Dazai’s mother mumbled, a slight that was meant to seem accidental though was far from quiet enough for her to have really been trying to keep Chuuya from hearing. She sent Dazai a cold look and sighed before smiling fakely at Chuuya. “We look forward to getting to know you better, Nakahara.”
Something dark glimmered in Chuuya’s eyes as he smiled and gave her a light bow. “Of course.”
“I will see you soon, Osamu,” she said, resting one hand on Dazai’s arm. Dazai smiled and gave her a nod as she turned to leave. Once the door to the cafe swung shut behind her, he turned back to Chuuya to–apologize, maybe, but Chuuya beat him to it.
“Okay, yeah, fuck that,” Chuuya huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and turning towards Dazai fully. “Did she know you were gay before this? Cus if I would have known she was homophobic, I would have said yes without hesitation.”
“I’m–” Dazai blinked before grinning. “Does that mean I’m off the hook for the drawing?”
“Hell no, we made that agreement beforehand.”
A puff. “No, she didn’t know I’m bisexual. I didn’t really mean to say boyfriend when I was lying to her about not needing a setup, it just slipped out.”
Chuuya’s eyes widened. “So you just came out to her?”
“I guess.”
“Damn. Yeah, we’re going to be a picture-perfect couple.” Chuuya turned around to check the clock behind the counter and Dazai let his eyes flicker up to the time as well. “The cafe closes at 3–” it was around 1pm now, “–if you want to just hang out here, we can work on strategy at my apartment after I close up shop.”
“Oh?” Dazai sang, lips curving up into a small smirk. “Are you inviting me home, Chuuya?~”
The pink that crawled its way up Chuuya’s neck at the implication in Dazai’s words was endearing and Dazai found himself wanting to see more of it, wanting to see just how red he could get Chuuya to turn. “Shut up, you idiot, not like that! We need a plan or at least to know each other a little better if we’re going to make it clear that we’re the best couple at your stupid fancy-ass party.”
“So you’ve invited me over to get to know you better, hm?”
The red brightened. The smile grew.
“Or you can fucking forget it!”
“Okay, okay,” Dazai relented, finally leaning back from the counter and raising his hands up in a show of surrender. “I have the time, I’ll wait here.”
“Good, now fuck off so I can get back to work.”
It wasn’t like it was a chore to return to his seat and to continue observing Chuuya over the top of his sketchbook. As annoying as it was that he had apparently not been as subtle as he had thought when it came to sketching the barista, now that he knew that Chuuya was already aware that it was what he had been doing he didn’t bother hiding it further.
Occasionally, Chuuya would look over at him while he worked and catch his eye, color flushing his cheeks again as he must have realized his snarky comment had unlocked Dazai’s unabashed staring, but he never actually came over to tell Dazai off for it.
Finally, Chuuya crossed over to the doors and flipped the sign, locking the door and leaning his weight against it with a deep sigh. Dazai watched him from his seat as he thunked his head against the door lightly before pushing away from it and approaching Dazai’s table.
“I still have to clean up, are you sure you’re good waiting?”
Dazai hummed his affirmative, not daring to turn away as Chuuya pulled his hair from the tight bun he always had it in as he worked and pulling it back into a much looser ponytail instead. Chuuya was right, of course, that it wasn’t as long as Dazai had thought.
Chuuya seemed to notice the attention as he huffed and turned to return to his work. But without other customers around that might be bothered by Dazai flitting around after Chuuya, Dazai stood up to do just that, following Chuuya around the store as much as he could while the barista cleaned cups and swept floors.
“Can I help you?” Chuuya snapped when Dazai first appeared over his shoulder to watch him as he restocked some of the supplies at the self-serve sugar counter. Dazai had simply hummed, neither a yes nor a no, and Chuuya had sighed but let it go. He didn’t say anything else, but he began to hum some melody as he mopped that had Dazai’s full attention.
“What song is that?” Dazai eventually caved to ask. The humming stopped abruptly as Chuuya turned to glance over his shoulder at him.
“What?”
“The song you were humming, what is it? It was nice.”
“Oh,” Chuuya scratched the back of his neck. “‘Bonhomme’. It’s a song my brother showed me, it’s French.”
Dazai tilted his head as Chuuya continued to clean the floor. “You have a brother?”
A small smile graced Chuuya’s face, soft and gentle. “Yeah, though we don’t really talk all that much.”
“Why not?”
“Why are you asking?” Chuuya put the mop up and leaned against the table beside Dazai, who simply shrugged.
“We need to get to know each other, right? I think as your boyfriend, I would want to know why you don’t talk to your brother.”
He was met with a tired look for a few seconds before Chuuya sighed and pushed off the table, gesturing at Dazai’s stuff on the table. “Clean that up so I can wipe your table, then we can get out of here.”
It wasn’t an answer, and Dazai wanted an answer, but he hummed instead to clean up like he was asked. He would continue pushing when they got to Chuuya’s apartment. There was time to learn.
“How’d you get here?” Chuuya asked, taking a peek out the window as Dazai finished shoving things into his bag and stood up. Chuuya moved over to wipe the table down as Dazai lingered.
“I walked,” he answered. “I don’t live far from here.”
The hum he got in response was considering for a moment. “You live in the dorms?”
“Sure do,” Dazai grinned.
“Too noisy, then.”
“Isn’t that why we’re going to yours?”
Chuuya huffed a laugh. “Yeah, okay. I did say that, didn’t I?” When Dazai only tilted his head in confusion, Chuuya gestured out the door with his chin as he made his way over to unlock it. “I drove here, is all, so I guess I’m driving you to my place.”
Dazai followed Chuuya out the door, pausing to let Chuuya lock the doors before they made their way to the back of the store where the employee parking was. There, they came across an older car, far from stylish, though at least it didn’t look as though it was used for mud races. It was small and blue, and for some reason Dazai thought that it didn’t quite fit Chuuya’s personality.
His hesitation to approach it was picked up, as Chuuya turned to him and tilted his head with a smile that read more uncomfortable than cocky. “What’s wrong? Is the trust fund baby scared of a car that’s older than he is?”
“Not at all,” Dazai hummed, approaching the passenger side and waiting for Chuuya to unlock the door before sliding in easily. “You just seem like the kind of person who would care what type of car he drives.”
Chuuya tsked. “I would care if I could afford to.”
Filing that information away for later, Dazai chose not to push that line of questioning any further when he noted how tense Chuuya had gotten.
They drove in relative silence for a short time, the only sound between them being the quiet music playing from the cars tiny speakers, some sort of rock music that Dazai could certainly imagine Chuuya blaring down the highway had he not been in the car as well.
When they pulled off the highway, Chuuya finally spoke up again. “Do you want pizza or something? I know you haven’t eaten in a while and I haven’t really either.”
“Sure,” Dazai agreed. “As long as you don’t order something weird on it.”
“Weird how?”
Pretending to think about it for a moment, Dazai tapped his chin. “Olives, pineapple, peppers, that sort of thing.”
“So basically anything that might be a plant?”
“That’s correct!”
His reward was a huff of laughter, far too quiet but glorious nonetheless.
“Alright fine, no plants. What about regular pepperoni?”
Dazai nodded. “That’s fine.”
Not long after, they pulled to a stop outside of a small apartment complex. It was nice enough, though certainly far from extravagant, as Dazai followed Chuuya up the stairs and into his apartment.
Again, it was simple, neat, nothing too expensive although it definitely seemed that Chuuya put more money into where he lived than he did what he drove. But the entire place seemed… cozy. Comfortable. An unnoticed tension melted from Dazai’s shoulders as he looked around. Chuuya had stopped right inside the door, jacket still half on as he ordered the pizza from his phone, but Dazai let himself in further.
The living room was clearly lived in, a blanket splayed over the couch, the pillows messed up, a half-empty cup of water sitting on the side table.
“Alright, pizza’s on the way,” Chuuya said, coming up from behind Dazai and throwing himself down onto the couch in a half-sprawl. They stared at each other for a few moments before Chuuya laughed quietly again. “Cmon, get comfortable or whatever.”
With a nod, Dazai moved over to the, quite frankly hideous, armchair to the right of the couch and took as subtle a breath as he could. “So your brother?” he prompted, not letting Chuuya start the conversation when he still wanted his answer. The look that crossed the others face was half annoyance and half resignation.
“I didn’t even know I even had a brother until a few years ago,” he finally admitted, and it wasn’t really what Dazai had been expecting. “We met under bad circumstances. He… wants a relationship with me, but I’m not sure I do.”
Dazai tilted his head gently. “What kind of circumstances are ‘bad’?”
“None that you need to know,” Chuuya snapped. “If anyone pushes for more information, you can just tell them it’s private.”
Raising his hands, Dazai surrendered. “Okay, okay,” he said, pausing for a moment to consider his options. Chuuya seemed to be largely uncomfortable with having shared that information, so to put him at ease, Dazai chose to share something of his own. Equal trades and whatnot. “I’ve been suicidal for most of my life.”
Clearly it wasn’t how Chuuya had expected him to respond, if his widened eyes and slack jaw were any indicator, but Dazai didn’t give him time to interject. “It’s hardly a secret to the people we’ll be with, so I guess it’s better you make that silly expression to me now than in front of them.” Nodding slowly, Chuuya chewed on his lip for a few seconds.
“Are you still?” he eventually asked, rubbing one hand up his arm.
“Usually,” Dazai hummed in response, taking note of the way Chuuya’s brows furrowed. “It comes and goes.”
“Why haven’t you then?”
The question was so out of left field that Dazai couldn’t help but just blink for a few long seconds, during which time the doorbell rang and Chuuya got up from his perch on the couch to collect the pizza. Dazai chose to take those extra few moments to school his expression and reconsider his thoughts on Chuuya.
When the pizza was between them, one slice already being munched on by Chuuya as he sat down once more, Dazai met his eyes with a considering look. “I’ve just never succeeded,” he finally concluded. “People like to get in the way, and recently I’ve…”
Recently I’ve been too intrigued with the local barista and his interesting expressions, he thought, and if he had been talking to Odasaku and Ango he may have even said it.
“I’ve been too busy, I suppose.”
Chuuya seemed satisfied enough with the response, but there was a new tension in his frame, a look to his eyes that seemed to say we’ll see about that. Dazai smiled in response, a challenge or an invitation.
“What other deep dark secrets are you hiding?” Dazai asked, leaning forward to finally grab a slice of pizza for himself. It was greasy, soggy, and terrible, but it was comforting in a way that he was beginning to associate with the man in front of him.
For his part, Chuuya hummed around his food as he swallowed. “I don’t think we need secrets, we just need general information to make this work. I doubt any of your stupid businessmen-whoever will be asking about whether or not my father being in prison has affected my desire to get a degree.”
What a tease. “They may not,” Dazai conceded, leaning forward in interest. “But you can’t just say something like that and not expect me to pry.”
Chuuya’s smile was sharp, enticing. “I don’t, but that’s not the game we’re playing right now.”
“Boo! You’re no fun,” Dazai sighed. “Then am I supposed to ask your favorite color or something?”
“Red.”
“Blue.”
A quiet hum.
“What do you study in college?”
“Business.” He said it with a tired sneer that had Chuuya tilting his head slightly.
“Not art?”
“No.” Dazai resisted the urge to fiddle with the strap on his bag and instead chose to focus on how Chuuya’s hair laid over his shoulder when he finally pulled it out of the ponytail. “You’re right, it’s much shorter than I thought.”
It made Chuuya pause for a moment, one hand stilling where he had been unconsciously untangling the strands, before he deliberately continued. “If you’re a business major, why do you come to the cafe to sketch?”
“My friend recommended it to me.”
“Sketching or the cafe?”
“Both,” Dazai conceded after a few seconds. “Odasaku told me to find a creative hobby and Ango told me about the cafe.”
Chuuya leaned his head against the backrest of the couch, gaze still on Dazai as he hummed in understanding. “Why art, then?”
It wasn’t a complicated story, but it was still quite personal to Dazai. He met Chuuya’s eyes as he considered whether or not to actually share it.
“Odasaku is a writer; he’s the only one of us who got to go to school for the arts. I figured if I was going to choose something to do just because, I might as well make it art so I can make covers for the books he will write.” Chuuya smiled slightly at the answer, something soft and warm.
“A gift for the friend who encouraged you to draw?”
“Something like that.”
“My brother is French, that’s why I was singing a French song,” Chuuya admitted. “He lived in France with our father, and I didn’t even know my father was still alive until Paul showed up to tell me about his death.”
“What part of that inspired you to go to school, then?”
Chuuya laughed quietly, though Dazai could hear the hesitancy in it. “My father was a doctor who abandoned my mother in Japan when he realized she was pregnant with me and that she was too sick to survive the pregnancy. So instead of supporting her, he left her to fend for herself. She died when I was born.”
Here Chuuya paused and Dazai thought through what he had said.
“So not medicine, then?” Dazai asked, and Chuuya shot him a confused look. “You don’t look up to your father so you aren’t following in his footsteps.” A snort, and Chuuya crossed his arms and nodded once, an affirmation. “If your mother died and you didn’t have a father, then you were an orphan.”
“Yeah,” Chuuya agreed, puffing out a breath.
“So you’re going into something having to do with social services.” It wasn’t phrased like a question because Dazai didn’t think he had gotten it wrong, something that was proved by Chuuya’s nod.
“You sure you aren’t going into criminology, Mr. PI?”
Dazai laughed. “No, though that sounds far more entertaining than business is.”
“If you aren’t interested in business, why are you studying it?”
“The same reason I had to lie about having a boyfriend.”
He watched the gears turn in Chuuya’s head but refused to give up any more information. After a few moments, it seemed to click. “You said your friend was the only one who was doing arts. You didn’t choose business then, did you?”
“Right, right!” Dazai sang, slumping back into the seat dramatically. “It’s not like I really planned to have much of a future, though, so I didn’t have any arguments when I started.”
“But you do now?” Ah, Chuuya was more perceptive than Dazai could have hoped for.
Instead of answering, though, he posed his own question. “Why do you think that Odasaku told me to get a hobby?”
It took Chuuya a few moments longer to make a connection. “You have depression,” he concluded. Dazai didn’t interrupt and Chuuya took it as the invitation that it was. “So a creative hobby to get you out of your head, right?” A nod. “Which means that you’ve been getting worse recently, which I can only guess goes back to your major?”
“Wrong,” Dazai hummed. It was close, though. “Not really to my major, though I guess it doesn’t help. See, business is very repetitive. It’s numbers and polite smiles and saying things you don’t mean to people who know you don’t mean them to get your results.”
“Bored?”
“Incredibly so.”
“Well,” Chuuya blew a strand of hair from his eyes and grinned. “Getting a fake boyfriend is one hell of a way to ease your boredom.”
Dazai smiled back, something he didn’t want to label spreading warmth through his ribs. “A fake boyfriend.”
Something crossed through Chuuya’s expression, understanding, a challenge, something smug and satisfied as he moved front he couch and approached Dazai, leaning down until their faces were close enough that Dazai could feel the faintest hint of Chuuya’s breath on his lips.
“You’re flirting could use some work,” Chuuya said, his voice lowered to match the new closeness.
Dazai couldn’t help the small puff of laughter as his smile widened. “I think it’s been working pretty well for me, actually, don’t you?”
Narrowed eyes and a small shift brought Chuuya’s hand to his cheek, gentle despite the fire in his gaze. “Well, I suppose we should consider the rest of what we need to prove to your business-whoevers that we’re the best couple at the party, huh?” Anticipation thrummed under Dazai’s skin as he caught Chuuya’s eyes flickering down to his lips.
“Oh?” he asked nonetheless, a teasing lilt to his voice. “You’re telling me this won’t be a silly romcom where kissing is off limits?”
“I take care of my partners,” Chuuya said. It echoed something Dazai had told his mother, he treats me well, and Dazai couldn’t help but marvel at it. “I would be remiss if I didn’t kiss them every now and then.”
Still, he refused to fall victim to the teasing himself. “Lots of talk for someone who still hasn’t kissed me yet.”
It was softer than Dazai expected it to be, nothing too far but just enough that when Chuuya pulled away, Dazai felt himself try to lean forward only to be stopped by the hands holding his face steady. The smirk on Chuuya’s face said that he had felt the resistance, and Dazai just grinned back, refusing to back down.
“Our first kiss, how romantic,” Dazai said, just to get something in the space between them. Chuuya leaned back, out of his space, and rested his hands on his hips.
“Now we won’t be as awkward,” he declared. A flimsy excuse, Dazai thought, but maybe that was just his own desires speaking. Or maybe not, as Chuuya’s cheeks were flushed a bright pink as he made his way back to his seat. “Do I need to get all dressed up for this?”
“Yes,” Dazai answered automatically, trying to drag his brain back online and his eyes from Chuuya’s lips. “It’s a–ah, what did you call it? ‘A stupid fancy-ass party’? Do you have a suit for the occasion?”
The scowl he was met with only made his smile widen. “Yes, I have a suit.”
“Let me see it.”
Without wasting a second, Chuuya stood from his seat once more and disappeared behind one of the doors behind the couch, presumably his bedroom, before emerging with a suit in a bag. When he unzipped it, it revealed what was–admittedly–a nice suit.
“It was a gift from Paul,” Chuuya said quietly. Dazai turned his eyes to look at the barista, but his attention was on the garment. “Something about needing a proper suit for when I stopped working at the cafe.”
“He’s got good taste, if nothing else,” Dazai nodded. “It works. I’ll be able to match to it well enough.”
Chuuya nodded and zipped it back up, laying the suit gently over the back of the couch. “Should I drive you home? It’s late.”
It was, much later than Dazai had thought it had gotten, but so was the way of attractive distractions.
“I can take the train,” he eventually settled on. “Let me get your number first though, so I can send you more details.” A clever ploy, and his one true goal of the evening had been accomplished. And a little extra, of course. Chuuya handed over his phone without hesitation, unlocked and everything, and Dazai had to resist the urge to fuck with anything too much.
He kept it simple, putting his name in just as “Osamu” with a bunch of obnoxious heart emojis, before sending himself a text and passing it back to Chuuya, who sighed at the name but locked his phone without changing it.
When Dazai stepped outside, he allowed himself two deep breaths before making his way back to his dorms.
“Odasaku you will never believe what happened today–”
The party was that weekend, so there wasn’t a whole lot of time for them to prepare, but they had sent messages a few times over the days leading up to it (read: Dazai kept sending Chuuya random messages during the day just to see how he responded, largely with eye-rolling emojis or question marks before actually engaging with Dazai’s shenanigans), and Dazai had managed to stop by the cafe again once, though he had a class in the afternoon and couldn’t go back to Chuuya’s again.
When the night finally came, Dazai had told Chuuya to come to his dorm as they would be picked up by a car sent by his parents. Odasaku and Ango weren’t coming, though Ango had been invited and had simply declined despite Dazai’s frequent lamenting.
Finally, Chuuya arrived and Dazai opened the door to take him in. He was wearing the suit he had shown Dazai before–a simple black suit with a wine red shirt–and his hair had been styled over his shoulder as opposed to the up-dos Dazai was so used to seeing him with. He had removed his nail polish, but his ears still glimmered slightly with the piercings he had there. And there, just around his eyes, was the slightest hint of makeup; subtle, not over the top, but it gave him a more ethereal look.
“Jeez, Dazai, you could pick your jaw up,” came the voice of the back-stabber of the evening behind him. Dazai whipped around to look at Ango where he leaned on the doorframe to Dazai’s room where the two had been studying while Dazai had been getting ready. Oda, for his part, was looking over Ango’s shoulder with a smile that Dazai knew meant trouble for him after the night was over.
That’s what he gets for telling his friends about his crush.
He wiped the glare of his face as he turned back to Chuuya and, in his defense, Chuuya seemed to be in a similar state of taking in his fake-date for the evening. Dazai knew how he looked: his black suit and blue shirt he chose to compliment Chuuya’s fit well, and he had even done his hair for the event (or for Chuuya, as his friends had teased him for endlessly, even when Odasaku had helped him make sure everything was in place).
“Ready?” Dazai asked after a few seconds, smiling down at the shorter man when his eyes snapped up to meet his. Chuuya nodded and took a step back to let Dazai out of his dorm before leading the way down the stairs. The car wasn’t here yet, so Dazai stopped him just inside the lobby.
“Don’t worry too much about the ‘businessmen-whatever’, they like to gossip but they hate going to the source for the information. They’re more likely to make things up about us than they are to actually ask direct questions and I’m sure that my mother has already spread that I’m bringing my boyfriend tonight,” Dazai assured him. Chuuya didn’t really look nervous, but there was something in the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and he nodded to Dazai’s words.
“Right,” he muttered, rubbing his arm before seemingly catching himself and dropping his hands to hang by his sides. He rolled his shoulders before looking back up to Dazai. “Anything I should know about your parents, then? Since they’re the ones we really need to convince.”
Dazai thought about it for a moment. “My mom is sharp and she already doesn’t like you, so she’ll probably be rude to you. It’s better to just ignore her than anything else because she will create a spectacle and make it look like it was you all along.” Chuuya pulled a face, something perhaps annoyed or disgusted before sighing. Dazai continued, “My dad is a hardball and he’s only heard about you from my mother. I can handle him, but it’s… not going to be pretty.”
Again Chuuya nodded, though he seemed distracted.
“A hardball? So, what, he’s an ass to you?” It startled a laugh from Dazai.
“Yeah, sort of.”
“Got it,” Chuuya hummed. Dazai wanted to ask him what that meant, but his phone vibrated with a notification that their car had arrived and he didn’t get another chance.
For the most part, things from then on were calm in that strange sort of moments-of-the-fall-before-you-meet-the-ground sort of way. Dazai led Chuuya through the room, carefully avoiding the worst of the chatterbugs to keep them moving just long enough for them to be able to make an escape without being considered rude. Chuuya had taken to resting one of his arms around Dazai’s waist, letting him control where they went as he nodded along to the droll coming from the stockholders and investors as though they were saying anything interesting.
Time was just about up when Dazai heard the familiar voices of his parents to their side. The arm around his waist tightened ever-so-slightly when Dazai’s mother came into view and Dazai simply laid one of his hands over the hand resting by his hip in a show of comfort.
“Osamu,” his mother greeted, stepping up to him with a faint smile. Her eyes glanced over to Chuuya, but she didn’t greet him as well. Chuuya stood silently by Dazai’s side, though the way his arm tightened further–almost painfully, but not quite, more grounding–told of how much he didn’t want to be.
“Mom,” Dazai said pleasantly, not bothering to pretend like his smile was anything but fake as he turned to his father. “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Nakahara Chuuya.”
At the sound of his name, Chuuya let go of Dazai to offer a bow to his father. “It’s nice to meet you, Dazai-san,” he greeted politely. There was a beat of silence as Chuuya stood back up before Dazai’s father smiled, too tight to be real but much more pleasantly than his mother had.
“It’s nice to meet you as well, Nakahara. I must say I was surprised by this introduction; last I had heard, Osamu was adamantly opposed to having a relationship until after school.”
“He was,” Chuuya said, cutting in before Dazai had the chance to answer himself. “As was I. They tend to be quite distracting during a time when your focus should be on your studies.”
It was clearly not the answer that Dazai’s parents had been expecting, neither of them quite able to contain their shocked expressions or the soft, incredulous laugh that Dazai’s father only gave on the rare occasion he was pleasantly surprised by something.
“Yes, I do suppose you have a point. Curious then, how you two have fallen into one anyway.”
Again, Chuuya beat Dazai to the punch, saying, “It was a shock to me, too. But Osamu is serious about his studies and so am I. We both understand that in some cases, they come first. After all, we will only be in school for so many years, and we’ll have the time to make up for what we might have missed after we graduate.”
It was the right answer. Perhaps the best one that Chuuya could have given and far more pleasant than the petty posturing Dazai knows he would have been participating in if Chuuya hadn’t stepped in first.
His father was appraising Chuuya with an entirely different look now, and even his mother seemed to be reevaluating her original ideas about Chuuya’s character.
“Well,” his father said of a long beat of silence, one that Chuuya weathered without flinching, even going so far as to grab onto Dazai’s hand at some point, as though to show that he would continue to stand by him despite what his parents might say, a move that Dazai’s father hadn’t missed. “I see Osamu has found himself a good, focused partner.”
That was a glowing review, one that shocked even Dazai as he looked from his father to Chuuya, who looked almost as shocked as Dazai was. They recovered quickly, but Dazai could see the hint of amusement at the corners of his father’s smile that belied their attempted subtlety.
“Thank you, sir,” Chuuya eventually said, smiling brighter than he had all evening. His father nodded at them both, a dismissal for now, and Chuuya smiled back at both him and Dazai’s mother.
His mother had remained quiet through the exchange, but now she looked chastised by the easy acceptance of her husband. Dazai could see the tightness in the corners of her eyes, and the defeated slump to her shoulders that told him she would likely try and apologize to him in the morning. But that would be something he could deal with then.
For now, he tugged on Chuuya’s elbow, leading him elegantly across the room, weaving between distracted businessmen and women until they reached the gardens outside where few had dared to wander in the cold.
He could hear the soft, gentle laughter coming from Chuuya and as he slowed down, turning to face his partner in crime, he could see the puffs of air clouding in front of his own face as he laughed as well.
“That went much better than I thought it would,” Chuuya said breathlessly. Dazai grinned.
“I had thought it would be a total disaster, if I’m being honest.”
Chuuya furrowed his brow, but his smile was too delighted to fall. “Why?”
“I thought my dad was far more homophobic than that,” Dazai said with a shrug. “Maybe he was.”
“He seemed to accept me pretty quickly for someone more homophobic than your mother.”
Lifting his hand slowly, he cradled Chuuya’s face in a mirror of their kiss at Chuuya’s apartment. “I think that was mostly due to you.”
“Me?” Chuuya seemed surprised, and maybe that made sense, but when Dazai could only see the best of the other–his smile, his laugh, his confidence, his power–it was the silliest question he had ever heard.
The laughter was falling from his lips before he even noticed. “I was prepared to start a fight with him, and I could see it in him from the moment he approached. But you…” Dazai’s eyes roamed across Chuuya’s face, flushed now from the cold, the freckles dancing across the bridge of his nose, how he hadn’t moved from Dazai’s touch. “The moment you opened your mouth, something in his demeanor changed. You knew just what to say to break through every argument he had before he could even voice it.”
“I had a feeling he was more worried about your studies than he was about me being a man,” Chuuya shrugged, but Dazai shook his head.
“No, you just disarmed him faster than he could keep up. You surprised him, and that’s harder than surprising me.”
“I think you’re pretty easy to surprise, actually,” Chuuya said. His voice was quiet, something just between the two of them, and when had they moved so close?
“Yeah?” Dazai asked.
“Yeah.”
There was no one around, but Dazai had known from the start that this had never been fake. Not for him at least. So when Chuuya pressed his lips to Dazai’s, he lifted his other hand to hold him closer. It was sweet, soft, gentle. This wasn’t the time or place to get lost in it, but Dazai could already feel himself slipping away until all he knew was the press of warm lips to his, the tug on his jacket where fists were holding him tight, and Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya.
When they parted, neither of them pulled far away, Dazai resting his forehead to Chuuya’s and delighting in sharing the warmth of their breaths between them.
“That didn’t feel very fake,” Dazai joked as Chuuya smoothed one hand up his chest until it was resting on his cheek as well. “Almost feels like this means something to you.”
“Would that be so terrible?” Chuuya whispered. It was confident, but there was that hint of vulnerability in his eyes that captivated Dazai. As if anyone could say no to him, as though he didn’t hang the moon and the stars and the sun in the sky.
“Not at all.” The space between them got smaller and smaller, until the next words were whispered into Chuuya’s lips. “I couldn’t imagine anything better.”