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Chuuya grunts as he’s shoved yet again by someone rushing through the bustling traffic on the sidewalk. He has half the mind to grab the perpetrator by the collar and shove his face into a nearby trashcan, but he’s disappeared before the thought enters his head. On this cold November evening, it’s inevitable to get lost in the crowd: everyone wants to get home as soon as possible.

Now, Chuuya originally planned to take the subway, but when he saw how packed it was he promptly turned on his heels and left the station. It could’ve saved him a lot of time but, alas, tiny spaces with no room to move make him feel claustrophobic.

Chuuya breathes and a tiny cloud of smoke appears and evaporates before him. At least he’d be able to use his car again tomorrow. It got damaged while he drove down a snowy road two days earlier. Instead of being able to take his time getting up and going to class, he had to take a detour by taking public transport. Now he’s walking home, and he asks himself why he didn’t just get over his comfort zone and squish himself into that subway.

He feels another shove and he clicks his tongue, stopping at a crosswalk. Because he’s shorter than the people surrounding him he’s unable to see what’s happening around him. Instead of moping about it, Chuuya elbows through the swarm of people so he’s standing at the front.

Jumping off a building would be completely useless here. What a pity.

Chuuya stops dead in his tracks, pure astonishment washing over his entire body like a cold shower. That wasn’t his voice he just heard echoing through his head. Regardless of the disturbing content, it was smooth, kind of soft and airy, and it didn’t belong to him. He jerks his head around only to be pushed forward by the mass when the crosswalk flashes green, and he tries to detect anyone who the voice might belong to, but it’s useless. Chuuya has no idea how to recognize a soulmate. They don’t have a halo around their heads or a sign that says ‘it’s me’, instead it’s their minds that are connected. Which means the other side can hear him too.

Who the hell are you and why are you in my head?

There’s a brief silence. Chuuya assumes the other is just as surprised as he is. Then the answer rings through his head.

Wait, are you a guy?

That’s not the issue right now, tell me who you are.

How could this happen to me. I want a redo. I've been tricked!

Chuuya grits his teeth.

Do you think I’m happy with this arrangement? You sound like a nitwit. A suicidal one.

And you sound like a stuck-up hothead.

Say that to my fucking face- I mean, meet me in front of the Bagel Bakery. I have red hair and I’m wearing a black hat.

Sounds awful.

You’re awful!

Chuuya ceases to keep his boiling blood under control even when he’s crossed the street and arrives at the bakery. He observes the people passing by, until someone approaches him and stops. Chuuya doesn’t say anything because he’s taken aback by how tall he is.

His soulmate smiles and bows his head.

 “Wow, you look like a midget,” he says, and he takes a step back to observe him.
 “I didn’t know you’d be such a huge fucking dick!” Chuuya waves his clenched fist at him, “I’m the one who should be complaining, not you!”
 “Well, I would’ve preferred a beautiful young lady to die with me, but I suppose you can’t always get what you want,” The stranger rakes a hand through his hair and sighs exasperatedly, “And my name is Dazai Osamu.”
Chuuya stops himself from kneeing this Dazai fuckface in the gut, and observes him instead. He has dark tresses that adorn his pale cheekbones, brown eyes and a lanky stature. Dazai wears a trench coat and black jeans, but what strikes him are the bandages wrapped around his neck.

Are you checking me out?

When Chuuya looks up, Dazai is smiling at him, and there’s a spark in his brown eyes that tells him not to trust his alleged soulmate.

 “I wasn’t,” Chuuya lies, nothing that he still needs to get used to hearing a different voice in his head other than his own. Dazai seems like a handful, but he’ll have to deal with him, and he’s not too bad-looking. Kind of handsome, actually.
They stare at each other for a few minutes, Chuuya with his brows furrowed and Dazai countering it with a lingering gaze that makes Chuuya feel uneasy. Dazai looks him up and down, until his eyes find Chuuya’s face again.


I just wanted to say that I totally heard it when you called me handsome.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.