Text"I really, really don't want to say I told you so." Yuan says, as she chews on a piece of gum. "But…"
"I don't really feel like this is the right time to be smug." Shirase deadpans, glaring at her from where he's seated on his mattress. "I mean… Chuuya, are you sure?"
Chuuya glares at both of them in turn, and then puts his head in his hands.
"Of course I'm sure." He snaps. "It's been weeks. Weeks, and he hasn't even tried to get in contact. It just proves he never fucking cared at all."
When he looks up again, Shirase is staring at him with a skeptical look on his face.
"From what you've told me, you literally told him you'd break his nose if he came near you." He points out. "Also, no fucking way he never cared. There's no way you actually believe that, right?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Chuuya asks, throwing his hands up in the air. "Go on, Shirase, tell me. Why shouldn't I think that?"
A look of disbelief crosses Shirase's face.
"Chuuya…" He murmurs. "Don't tell me you never noticed? Jeez, and people call me dense."
"Noticed what?" Chuuya demands. "What does that even mean?"
"The way he looked at you!" Shirase exclaims. "The constant allusions to the fact that he wanted to do more than just fuck! You thought it at one point, too! You thought he wrote those notes, didn't you? That means you must have suspected something, right?"
"But I was wrong about the notes!" Chuuya replies. "I asked him if he wrote them, and he said no!"
"There was still a reason you suspected it in the first place!" Shirase says. "Don't tell me there wasn't!"
"If he cared so much, why did he lie about everything?" Chuuya asks, his voice breaking. "And I mean everything. His eye, the tutoring– other things that I can't even tell you, because that's just fucked up."
"Maybe if you actually think about it for more than five minutes, you'll figure it out!" Shirase's voice is growing louder.
"Don't yell at him." Yuan snaps. "I told you both something was off about him, and you didn't listen, and now that I've been proven right you still don't believe it? Why are you defending him, anyways?"
"You didn't see it!" Shirase says, getting to his feet. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides. "You didn't wake up at five A.M. and see him watching Chuuya like he's the only thing in the world! You weren't there, and even if you were, you would still make excuses, because Dazai was right! You're just jealous, and you always have been!"
Chuuya freezes, stunned.
"He did what?" He asks, and his voice sounds strained even to himself.
"I'm not jealous!" Yuan yells. "What do I even have to be jealous about? He's– he's nothing, okay?"
"He's a person!" Shirase shouts back. "And I've had enough of you pretending that he's not! Chuuya, you said it yourself, didn't you? He's human like you and me, and you know it!"
Chuuya stays silent, still in shock.
"Go back to what you said before." He says, putting his hands on his knees. "He did what?"
"That morning he took your umbrella." Shirase explains. "I woke up and he was just fucking– he was watching you, and he looked so fond, and he left that stupid sticky note on your forehead and smiled at you while you were asleep. There's no way all he cared about was sex!"
"Then why hasn't he reached out?" Chuuya asks, and he can't stop the way his bottom lip trembles. "I don't understand."
"You told him to stay away." Shirase says. "And if I were him, and you told me what you told him, I would probably do the same thing."
Chuuya puts his head back into his hands.
"I know, okay?" His voice is muffled. "I know it was wrong, I was just so angry."
"You didn't even let him explain." Shirase sounds softer now, like he's talking to a child. "Why don't you reach out to him instead?"
"I don't know." Chuuya says. "I haven't seen him around at all lately. You don't think he dropped out, do you?"
Shirase shrugs.
"He promised you he wouldn't, right?" He replies. "He might have lied, but he doesn't seem like the kind of guy to break a promise. Just give him a chance to explain, Chuuya."
"Maybe…" Chuuya murmurs. "I have to find him first."
"Why not just text him?" Shirase asks, and Chuuya shakes his head.
"I feel like it has to be in person." He says. "Some things shouldn't be said over text."
"I guess." Shirase mutters. "Good luck finding him. Maybe ask around, see if anyone else has seen him."
"Good idea." Chuuya gets to his feet. "I'll go right now. I have to meet with Tachihara to go over some things we learned in class anyways."
"I still don't see the point in all of this." Yuan complains. "Aren't you better off without him?"
Chuuya pauses.
"I won't know until I try." Then he turns to Shirase. "Thanks, Shirase. Sorry for being dumb."
"No problem." Shirase says. "Go get your fucking man. I'm tired of you moping and listening to all of Sour by Olivia Rodrigo on repeat."
Chuuya flips him off as he leaves, but he's smiling.
He's showing Tachihara more patterning techniques when he finally is able to bring up the question.
"Hey, Tachihara," He starts, posing the question carefully. "Do you happen to know Dazai? Dazai Osamu?"
Tachihara blinks in surprise.
"Dazai?" He says. "Yeah, I've heard of him. But I'd never met him until about a week ago."
Chuuya's heart stutters.
"You saw him?" He asks, slamming his hands on the table they're at with too much force, accidentally. He grimaces, and then continues. "What did he look like?"
Because he desperately wants to know if Dazai is, was, affected as much as he is.
Tachihara grimaces, too.
"I mean no offense when I say this," He says, rubbing at the band-aid on the bridge of his nose. "But he looked awful, man. Eyebags and everything, wrapped up to his neck in bandages. It was raining, but he had no umbrella. And his fingers were all fucked up, too. I don't know what happened to him, but there were band-aids all over them."
Chuuya's heart sinks.
"I didn't know." He murmurs. Tachihara stares at him.
"You guys are pretty close, right?" He asks, eventually. "I mean, you were always together. I even thought you were dating, at one point. Why haven't you seen him around?"
"Dating?" Chuuya sputters. "No, we never… No. We didn't date. Me and him? No way. I… I hate his guts, you know? Always have."
But he's lying. Every word that comes out of his mouth is a lie. Still, he can't bring himself to admit it. He can't bring himself to admit that deep down, there was always something magnetic about Dazai, something that pulled Chuuya close to him, made him want to curl up next to his beating heart and never leave. Those moments in bed together, whether after sex or just sleeping, when they were wrapped up in each other like nothing and no one else mattered, those are the moments that Chuuya misses most.
Tachihara stares at him like he doesn't believe a single word Chuuya is saying. Hell, even Chuuya doesn't believe it. He knows that he's in love with Dazai. He knows it, and he hates it.
"Sure," Tachihara says, slowly. "But that doesn't answer my question."
"I… We…" Chuuya struggles to get the words out. "We had a disagreement. That's all. I said some things I probably shouldn't have, and I haven't heard from him since. I was just wondering if you'd seen him around, so I could… you know. So we could talk it out."
Tachihara takes a sip of his coffee and then sets it down on the table, looking thoughtful.
"He thought I was you, you know." He murmurs. "When I turned around, he was smiling so big, even though it looked like he hadn't slept in days. When he realized I wasn't you after all… He just looked miserable, Chuuya. That's all. I think he wanted to apologize then just as much as you do now."
It's Chuuya's turn to stare. Then he looks down at his hands, resting on the table. For some reason, they feel dirtier than he remembers, even though they look perfectly clean. Like he's done something rotten and needs to wash it off.
"You think so?" He whispers.
"Don't take my word for it." Tachihara says, taking another drink. "Dazai seems like a complicated guy. I probably couldn't begin to understand anything in his head. You probably could, though, if you know him half as well as I thought you did."
Chuuya closes his eyes.
"I don't know if I do." He admits. "I don't know if I ever knew the real Dazai at all."
Tachihara sets his drink down.
"I think," He says. "That you won't know until you talk to him. I haven't seen him around since then. Maybe try some of his friends?"
Chuuya gives a determined nod.
"Thanks, Tachihara." He murmurs, as he gets up to leave. "I mean it."
"No problem, man." Tachihara replies, giving a thumbs up. "Good luck."
He finds Yosano outside the biology building.
"Yosano!" He calls, running towards her. Her back is turned. "Yosano, hey. Have you seen Dazai? I–"
When she turns around, her face is scrunched up into a look of disdain.
"What the fuck do you want?" She snaps. "Haven't you fucking done enough? What do you even need to see him for? To yell at him more?"
Chuuya stops in his tracks.
"I just need to see him." He explains, breathless. His hands tremble, so he clenches them into fists to hide it.
"Tough." Yosano seethes. "You know, I promised Dazai I wouldn't punch you when I saw you again, but that stupid look on your face is making it really hard not to."
"Please." Chuuya says. "I just want to talk to him. Just tell me where he is so I can talk to him."
Yosano pauses, as if mulling over the words she wants to say. Then she gives Chuuya a glare so strong he wants to sink into the floor.
"It would have been a greater mercy," She says. "If you had just told him to kill himself."
Chuuya's heart sinks to the floor.
"Where is he?" He asks hoarsely. Thoughts run through his head that he would rather didn't. The stain on the tiles in Dazai's bathroom that he'd never really explained other than vague references that Chuuya knows are about how he and Yosano met. "Where is Dazai, Yosano?"
"Alive." Yosano glares at him. "No thanks to you. And that's all you're getting. I'm not telling you where he is."
"What was I supposed to do?" Chuuya demands, angry. "He lied to me."
"You're a fool," Yosano says. "If you think he never cared about you." She turns to leave, and then stops, looking over her shoulder. "Check your phone, Chuuya."
Chuuya leaves with a heavy heart. When he gets home, he unlocks his phone with fervor, desperate. His stomach twists when he realizes it had been on airplane mode all this time. Dazai could have reached out to him a thousand times, and he never would have noticed. He'd told himself he'd never wanted to hear from Dazai again. But if there's something, some clue Dazai has left him, then he's going to find it.
He opens his voice-mail. There's a single message from Dazai that lasts several minutes. Chuuya taps on the play button, his heart pounding.
"Hey, Chuuya." Dazai's voice comes through, sounding weak and tired. "You didn't block my number, huh? I'm surprised. I… I really fucked up this time, didn't I?"
Chuuya's chest tightens.
"I'm sorry." There's a hitch in Dazai's breath. "I'm really, really sorry. I know that's not enough. I know it can't be. I know it won't be, ever. But I just wanted you to know, anyway."
Chuuya bites his lip harshly, his eyes beginning to sting.
"I know you won't believe me," Dazai says in the message. "But I promise I didn't do it to use you, or to get into your pants, or to make fun of you. Or whatever else you might think. I promise."
It's followed by a wet, sad laugh.
"I liked you, you know?" There's something different about his voice. It sounds tight, it sounds watery. It sounds like he's crying. "I really, really liked you. I guess it's too late for that now, but… I really just want to hear your voice again, Chuuya. Just one more time." There's something that sounds like a choked off sob. "So please pick up, okay? I just want to hear your voice again."
Chuuya hadn't realized it, but he's been crying, too, tears rolling down his face, his breath hitching with quiet sobs.
"I think it's done. I'm really, really tired. I'm sorry. This is really shitty of me to do, but… I don't think I can live without you. And I don't think you'll ever forgive me, so… I'm taking the easy way out. It's okay if you never forgive me for lying. It's okay if you never forgive me for this call."
Chuuya's throat constricts, closing up as the message nears its end.
"I thought it would be easier than leaving a note."Fuck. What the fuck. "Turns out it's not. It's really, really not. I just thought… On the offhand chance that you'd pick up– I don't know. I guess I can't be surprised. I fucked up. I really fucked up."
He laughs again, sobs again. Chuuya sobs with him.
"I miss you, I love you." A shock runs through Chuuya's body, straight to his core. "I'm gonna go to sleep now. Goodnight, Chuuya."
Chuuya doesn't think he means going to bed. There's a few seconds left of the message.
"Dazai, don't–" Chuuya cries, but it doesn't matter. The call ends. Dazai wouldn't be able to hear him anyway. Chuuya drops his phone on the carpeted floor of his dorm, puts his face in his hands, and sobs.
"He's alive." Yosano had said. It's a small comfort when Chuuya knows this is all his fault.
He goes to Fyodor next. He knocks on the door of the dorm he's been to so frequently it was almost a second home, thinking of all the times he and Dazai had just hung out, laughing and tossing crumpled notes at each other like they were the kids neither of them ever got to be.
He doesn't expect Dazai to be home. In fact, he knows he won't be. Still, he has some hope curling in his chest, hope that Dazai is okay, that he'll open the door and they'll be able to talk for real, this time.
No more shouting, no insults, no more of Chuuya fucking everything up. No voice messages saying goodbye forever, no more apologies on Dazai's end, because even though Chuuya desperately wants an explanation for everything, he can admit at this point that the only person who ruined everything was himself. If he had only heard Dazai out then before jumping to conclusions–
He nearly jumps when the door opens. Fyodor stands there, looking more frazzled than Chuuya has ever seen him. His hair is messy and his eyes are red, like he's been crying, even though the voice message Chuuya had received is a week old at this point. He takes one look at Chuuya and starts to shut the door.
Chuuya shoves his leg in between the gap before it can shut fully. He's lucky Fyodor hadn't slammed it, because it barely hurts at all. It's okay. He can take a little pain.
"Wait!" He shouts. "Fyodor, wait, hold on."
Fyodor cracks the door open again.
"I think you should leave." He says, his voice hoarse. "Right now, before I do something I regret later."
"Just hear me out." Chuuya pleads. "Hear me out, okay?"
The door opens wider, and Fyodor peers out of it. Taking a closer look, Chuuya can see how swollen and puffy his eyes are. He looks miserable.
"What is it?" He asks, finally, after a moment of silence. Chuuya sighs in relief.
"I just need to know where Dazai is." He says. "I got his voice mail, and… I just need to know that he's okay, alright? He's okay, right? Yosano said he's alive, but I just need to know…" He trails off, his voice breaking embarrassingly as his throat closes up.
He can't stand the idea that Dazai might have been close to dying, and that he hadn't even known it. Some friend he is.
Fyodor stares at him for a moment longer before he speaks. In those few seconds of silence, it's suffocating. Chuuya can hardly find the effort to pull oxygen into his lungs.
"You weren't there." Fyodor says, eventually. "You didn't see him falling apart for weeks, not being able to do anything about it because you didn't know how. You weren't there, because you fucking left him, and now you're here wanting to know if he's okay?"
He pauses to take a deep breath before continuing.
"You didn't find him passed out in his bed, thinking he was just asleep until you found the pills, or what was left of them, two empty bottles on your bathroom sink because he took them all. You didn't turn on the light and see him foaming at the mouth, you didn't have to be afraid that you were almost too late because just earlier that day you'd thought he was healing, because he said so and you believed him like an idiot, because that's what you wanted to believe."
Chuuya's eyes are stinging, horrified and angry at himself at the same time.
"I just want to apologize." He croaks out. "Please tell me where he is, so I can apologize. I just need to apologize."
"He hasn't been released yet." Fyodor says, rubbing his eyes. "From the fucking psych ward they put him in. Try again later. I'll text you, maybe, when he gets out."
"I don't have your number." Chuuya hates how small his voice sounds.
"That's exactly the point I'm making." Fyodor deadpans. "You should have thought about that before jumping to conclusions. He was fucking in love with you. If he didn't confess in the voicemail he left you, then congratulations, you're the last person to fucking know."
"I didn't know." Chuuya chokes out. "How was I supposed to know? I didn't…"
"Use your brain, Chuuya." Fyodor says. "For five minutes, actually think about everything he ever said and did. You want to know why he lied? Because he knew that if he told you he didn't need a tutor, you wouldn't stick around for a moment longer than you needed to."
"He didn't need me." Chuuya protests. "He never needed me. Why did he have to lie about everything? Why couldn't he have just told me when we started getting closer?"
"That's what you think." Fyodor closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "He needed you more than you know. Doesn't this whole thing prove that? He needed you like he needed air to breathe."
When Chuuya stays silent, struggling to swallow down the lump in his throat, Fyodor continues.
"Just… think about it." He says. "About everything. If you can't see the signs now, after everything, then maybe there's no hope for you after all."
If Chuuya's heart wasn't already in pieces, those words would have done the job.
"Okay." He whispers, holding back tears. "Okay, I'll… I'll think about it. I'll try my best. Just promise you'll tell me when he gets out, so I can apologize. Please, Fyodor."
Fyodor opens his eyes and watches Chuuya carefully, like he's assessing him.
"If you're really sorry, then fine." He sighs. "Give me your phone so I can put my number in."
Chuuya scrambles to get his phone out of his pocket, and it almost slips out of his hand when he hands it over. Fyodor adds himself to his contacts and hands it back.
"Try not to lose any sleep over this." He says, his voice sounding as tired as he looks. "At least you won't have nightmares about what he looked like."
"I'm sorry." Chuuya says, his hands trembling as he sticks his phone back in his pocket.
"I'm not the one you need to apologize to." Fyodor tells him. "But I guess you already know that."
Chuuya does know that. He knows it all too well.
"You were right." Is the first thing he says, when he gets back to his dorm and sees Shirase sitting on his mattress with a sandwich in his hands.
Shirase swallows the mouthful he's been chewing on and then stares up at Chuuya as if waiting for him to continue.
"About…?" He prompts.
"Everything." Chuuya sighs. "You were right about everything, okay?"
Shirase sets his sandwich down.
"Well, yeah." He says. "I'm not dumb, Chuuya. Anyone with a decent pair of eyes could tell he liked you as more than just a friend."
"Why couldn't I, then?" Chuuya chokes out. "Why couldn't I tell? Now it's too late, probably, and there's nothing I can do about it–"
Shirase's eyes grow wide.
"Woah, woah," He cuts Chuuya off. "He didn't like… kill himself, right? He's not dead, is he?"
"No," Chuuya says, his eyes burning. He wipes at them with one hand. "No, but he tried, and it's all my fault. I was just so angry, and I didn't think. All I could think about was that I shouldn't have ever let him get to me. And that love is exactly how I'd pictured it– there are no happy endings for people like me."
Shirase stares at him, and then down at his sandwich, like he isn't all that hungry anymore. He sets it down on his mattress, and Chuuya doesn't have the energy to scold him about getting crumbs on his sheets. There's more important matters at hand.
"Do you really believe that?" He asks. "Because you're starting to sound a lot like someone we both know. Should I be worried you're going to try what he did?"
"No!" Chuuya exclaims, wiping his eyes. He refuses to let any tears fall. "I wouldn't do something like that. You just… You didn't hear the message he left me. He sounded so hopeless, and it's all my fault, Shirase."
"But you regret it, right?" Shirase asks.
"Of course I do." Chuuya says. It comes out choked and miserable, caught in his throat like a bug in a spiderweb. "If I could just go back in time, I wouldn't have said any of it at all."
"That's a good start, I think." Shirase tells him. "Regretting it is all you can do right now, but it's a good sign. You can improve on that. You can apologize, when he comes back."
"What if he doesn't?" Chuuya whispers. "What if he doesn't come back? What if he drops out like he wanted to? What if I never get to apologize?"
Shirase sighs.
"I said it before, right?" He says. "Even if he was mad at you, Dazai cares about you. I've never seen anyone more in love with him, except maybe you, when you came back from France. He wouldn't break that promise, because it matters to him. Because when you left him, it was all he had left of you."
"I really hope you're right." Chuuya can't help the sob that leaves his lips. "I really, really hope you're right, Shirase."
"Of course I am." Shirase teases. "I'm always right."
Chuuya smiles despite himself.
"He would have said that, too." He says. Then, because he can't help it, "I miss him a lot."
"From what I can tell," Shirase murmurs, picking his sandwich again. "He missed you a lot, too. There's still hope, you know. You don't have to turn out like your mom."
"Yeah." Chuuya says, wiping his eyes again. "You're probably right. There's still hope for me. For us. I'm gonna tell him, this time."
"Oda-sensei," Chuuya says, slamming the door to Oda's classroom open. Oda looks up in surprise. "I need some advice."
Oda sets down his pen, where he'd likely been grading homework, and rests his head on one hand lazily.
"Whatever for?" He asks, sounding rather bewildered. "You're a smart kid, Chuuya. What could you possibly need my help with?"
"I need to know," Chuuya starts, and then swallows. "I need to know how to apologize. For something I did wrong."
"And you think I can help?" Oda asks again. "Why?"
"Who else can I go to except you?" Chuuya counters, his voice breaking.
Oda sighs.
"Is this about Dazai?" He taps his fingers on his desk absent-mindedly, like he's thinking about something.
"Yes." Chuuya says. "Yeah, it is. What do you know about all this?"
"We all got the notice." Oda replies. "All of his teachers, that is. They let us know he wouldn't be back for a while."
"I need to see him." Chuuya says, his whole body trembling. "I really fucked up this time, Oda-sensei."
Oda blinks at him silently.
"I thought you hated Dazai." He says, eventually. "You were always complaining about him."
"I don't hate him." Chuuya frowns. "I could never hate him, even if he annoys the shit out of me. Even though he lied about being bad at calculus."
It's hard to get the last words out of his mouth. They feel caught in his throat, unable to crawl out, but he manages.
"So he told you, then." Oda says. "He used to be my top student, you know. Before."
"He didn't tell me." Chuuya mutters. "Even though… I think he really wanted to. I couldn't see it then, but I can now. There were so many signs, and I was just… blind. To all of them."
"You were upset." Oda guesses. "You tend to be hot-headed when that happens. I'm assuming you lashed out?"
"I didn't mean to," Chuuya chokes out. "But I said some really awful things. I wanted to take them back as soon as I said them, but I just… couldn't. I was too proud to admit that I was in the wrong, too."
His eyes are stinging with tears, and he wipes them away before they can fall, shame burning away inside his chest. Embers still too hot to touch without singing your fingers.
"But you know now, right?" Oda questions. "That you were in the wrong."
"Of course I do." Chuuya says, sniffling. "If I could go back in time, I'd never say those things at all."
"Well, you can't change the past." Oda tells him. "But you can make sure it doesn't happen again. Work on yourself, you know? You were hurting, too, but it's important to find skills to use that aren't lashing out. It's just self-sabotage to keep doing things like that."
"Okay," Chuuya agrees, his hands dropping to his sides. "But how do I even begin to apologize? How can I ever get him to forgive me?"
"Try your best." Oda says. "Explain to him everything you need to. Be honest. Take responsibility for what you said. No excuses. A real apology wouldn't shove blame onto something or someone else."
"And if that doesn't work?" Chuuya asks. "What then, Oda-sensei?"
"Then you wait." Oda explains, patient. "Wait for him to be ready. It might take a while. Be there until then. Don't just give up on him." He pauses before continuing. "Dazai has had enough people in his life give up on him. He doesn't need that from you, too."
"Okay," Chuuya says again. "Okay."
He can do that. He can. He just has to wait for Dazai to get back, if he gets back at all.
He spends the next few days in a state of limbo, daydreaming about scenarios where everything is okay again. He thinks about carousels in France and cloud gazing. He thinks about conversations on the Eiffel Tower, surrounded by lights, about birds and sparks and wonders, goddamn, how didn't I see this before?
He thinks, like Fyodor and Shirase had told him to. All the times Dazai had faltered, all the times he'd looked regretful when he thought Chuuya wasn't looking. Soft smiles when he thought they wouldn't be noticed, looking at Chuuya like he was the best thing he had ever seen.
And Chuuya had pretended like he hadn't noticed any of it, because he was scared. Scared of love and emotion and commitment, even when sex became more than just that to both of them. Maybe it was more than that to Dazai for much longer than it was for Chuuya. Maybe he just hadn't noticed. Why hadn't he noticed?
Because he was scared? Scared of being like his mother, hopelessly devoted to a man who'd left them both alone, left Chuuya to pick up the pieces of something that he'd broken. Scared of being trapped in a love that would never be reciprocated, a ring on his mother's finger that she'll never take off, even if she never sees Chuuya's father again, because all she can remember is the good times.
Chuuya remembers good times, too. Good times with Dazai is all he can think about. He's cried about them far too many times to count, in the weeks where he'd thought Dazai hadn't tried to reach out to him at all. In the weeks where his phone had sent Dazai straight to voicemail. How Dazai hadn't left a message until the fateful day that it was meant to be his last.
He imagines the way Tachihara had described Dazai's face. How it had lit up at first, and then sunk into despair. How tired he'd looked, and Chuuya remembers how he'd looked those few weeks before his birthday, his fingernails bloody and bitten down to the beds, how he'd wrapped band-aids around them when Chuuya had scolded him to ease his worries.
On his birthday, when he'd broken down for seemingly no reason when he'd seen the cake, how he'd apologized, like there was something he regretted so strongly, but couldn't find the words to say.
"Chuuya," He'd said, crying, apologizing for something Chuuya hadn't even known he'd done. "I'm sorry."
The fact of the matter is that Dazai was sorry before Chuuya had even known he'd done anything wrong, and blinded by his anger upon discovering it, Chuuya hadn't seen that at all.
He thinks about the look on Dazai's face during that confrontation a lot.
The hopeless resignation, like he'd known it was coming. The crumpled final in his hand, bleeding red ink in the rain. A final mark that could only be an A, because he'd known how to do calculus all along.
He remembers their agreement. He remembers promising that if Dazai passed his final, he'd never look his way again. He doesn't know when things changed, when that agreement became no longer relevant, and how it came to be anyway.
Dazai had known this would happen, even if he had hoped it wouldn't, and all Chuuya had done was prove him right.
He'd proved Dazai right, and he hates himself for it. He stays up at night staring at his phone screen until his eyes burn, waiting for a text that might not ever come. Because what if Dazai doesn't come back? What if he drops out and Chuuya never sees him again? What if Chuuya never gets to apologize?
That thought sends a jolt of fear straight to his core, and he covers his mouth with one hand to stifle a sob. He doesn't want to wake Shirase up. He cries as quietly as possible. If Dazai were ever to talk to him again, if he were ever to forgive him, it would be more than Chuuya deserves. He knows that better than anyone else. Better than Yosano, better than Fyodor.
Because Dazai had seemed emotionless when they'd argued, Chuuya had thought he just didn't care. Really, he thinks, Dazai had known all along this was how it would end, and therefore wasn't surprised when he was right.
He practices his apology in the mirror.
"I'm sorry." He says, over and over again. "I didn't mean anything I said. I know it still hurt you. I know it was wrong. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."
But no matter how many times he says it, it's not right. It's not enough. He ends up in tears about it more times than he can count. He can't stop thinking about Dazai lying still on his bed in his dorm, alone in the dark after taking two bottles of pills Fyodor hadn't even known he'd had. He can't stop thinking about the voicemail Dazai had left, his broken voice begging for Chuuya to just pick up.
"I'm sorry," Chuuya says again, curled up in a ball on his mattress and sobbing. "I'm so sorry."
Finally, after what feels like years, but is only a couple of days, he gets a text message. He fumbles for his phone the moment it buzzes.
Fyodor
He's back.
Chuuya is out the door before he finishes fully putting his shoes on.
He searches everywhere. He starts with Dazai's dorm, but he's not there. Fyodor doesn't give him a single clue. Chuuya wracks his brain for any hint of where Dazai could possibly be, and he ends up outside the coffee shop. He's standing there, panting, out of breath in the summer heat, when the door opens. He looks up, and in that moment his heart stops.
Because that's Dazai. After a whole month of not seeing him, Dazai's calls going straight to voicemail, he's right in front of Chuuya, finally. This is his chance. Dazai is walking towards him, his black coat hanging off of his shoulders, even under the sun in early August. Chuuya opens his mouth to say something, anything. Dazai is right in front of him.
Chuuya's heart pounds in his chest, loud in his ears, rapid like a hummingbird's wings. For a moment he can't hear anything else.
"Dazai–" He starts, but Dazai doesn't stop walking.
He brushes past Chuuya without a word, leaving him stunned. Chuuya stands there for just a moment before time catches up to him.
"Dazai, hey!" He calls, turning around. Curse Dazai and his long legs, he's already gotten further away. Chuuya runs after him. "Hey, hold on. Wait. Dazai, wait. We need to talk. Let's talk, okay?"
Dazai stops in his tracks, but he doesn't turn around.
"Okay," Chuuya breathes. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I really fucked up, and I'm so, so sorry. I never meant– I didn't mean any of it, and I shouldn't have said it, and there's no excuse that could possibly make up for it. I'm sorry. I got your message, and I forgive you, okay? For lying. Can we please– can we please start over? Can we fix this?"
The look Dazai gives Chuuya when he turns, not fully, just his head over his shoulder, causes something between them to shatter. It's something close to disdain, like he's looking down on Chuuya for even speaking to him.
"Are you done?" He asks, his voice dead, emotionless, every bit the machine Chuuya had called him, every bit the robot he'd made Dazai out to be. But he's not a robot, or a machine, or anything similar. There's no wires inside Dazai, just a beating, human heart. Chuuya had known that all along, and still chose to say what he said that day.
"I'm sorry." Chuuya says again, choking on endless apologies that want to make themselves known. Because he is sorry. But no apology could ever be enough to describe it.
Dazai turns then, as if to walk away, and Chuuya can't help the words that tear out of his throat.
"Did you mean it?" He calls, desperately. Dazai stands still, giving Chuuya one more chance to say what needs to be said. "When you said you loved me, did you mean it?"
Dazai turns his head again, and the look on his face is almost pitying. He doesn't look much better than the weeks before his birthday. His eyes are still dead, haunted, but there's a soft, sad smile on his face. A smile Chuuya has seen too many times, one that haunts his worst memories. It's a smile that Dazai had smiled after Chuuya had hurt him the first time, then the second, the smile he'd smiled when he'd told Chuuya everything was done and that they could fly to Paris just fine.
"What do you think, Chuuya?" Is all he says, and Chuuya knows then that this is it. Everything there ever was between them is gone. He's fucked it up beyond repair.
Dazai walks away, his coat floating slightly behind him in the summer breeze that's kicked up. He walks away, leaving Chuuya standing behind him, all alone. Like Chuuya had left him in the rain that day, shattered, broken beyond repair.
Chuuya hadn't expected Dazai to forgive him.
It still hurts worse than he'd imagined.
Later that night, his hands shaking, his vision blurred with tears, Chuuya texts his mother.
Chuuya
I let him slip through my fingers.
The next days go by in a haze. Chuuya stares at his phone screen, waiting. Waiting to see if Dazai will text him, if he'll give some sort, any sort of sign. In those few days, Chuuya cries so much he gives himself a headache from dehydration.
"You're giving up?" Shirase asks him. "Just like that? One attempt and you're done?"
"It's hopeless." Chuuya sobs. "I'm hopeless. I've fucked everything up, and there's nothing I can do to fix it."
"No offense, Chuuya," Shirase says. "But you haven't really tried. You apologized once, so what? Try again. And again. If he doesn't forgive you after you've given everything you've got, then you can give up. But you can't give up now."
"He doesn't even want to see me." Chuuya replies, his voice wobbling as he wipes at his nose.
"That's just bullshit." Shirase says, rolling his eyes. "Do you even hear yourself? This is the guy who lied about being stupid for three months just to keep you around. Saying he doesn't want to see you now is just a cop-out. If you don't want to try, just say so. But stop making excuses for yourself."
Chuuya blinks up at him, surprised.
"I don't even want to see me." He says. "How could Dazai possibly want to see me?"
Shirase rolls his eyes again.
"Because he loves you." He says. "You don't just stop loving someone after they hurt you. Not if it's real love. And with the way Dazai looked at you, talked about you… The things he did to keep you in his life… That's real love, Chuuya."
"Love sucks." Chuuya chokes out, his lips trembling. "Why does it hurt so bad?"
"Love takes work." Shirase replies. "I mean, I don't know anything about it, really. But it seems like now is the time to put in that work. So get off your ass and do something about it."
"Like what?" Chuuya asks. "What can I possibly do to fix this?"
"Well," Shirase says. "You could always watch a romcom to get some ideas."
They have a marathon. Chuuya cries at every fight, every breakup, but he takes notes. He takes notes.
He tries coffee first. He shows up to Dazai's dorm with a steaming black coffee, no sugar, no cream, just the way he'd always gotten it before. He has a hot chocolate, too, for himself, both of the drinks in a cardboard holder so he can knock on the door.
Dazai answers, looking exhausted, like he's just dragged himself out of bed. His hair is sticking up all over, and it would be cute if not for the dark bags under his eyes and the way his lips are torn to shreds. Still, he's just the way Chuuya likes him, loves him. How he'd ever mistaken his feelings for anything but that, he doesn't know.
Dazai does a double take when he sees Chuuya standing at the door.
"Hey," Chuuya says, breathless. "Do you have time to talk?"
Dazai stares at him, and then his eyes flit down to the coffee in Chuuya's hand. Chuuya thinks, for a moment, that he sees Dazai's mouth twitching into the beginnings of a smile. Then Dazai looks back up, meeting Chuuya's gaze.
"No." He says, and shuts the door in Chuuya's face. Chuuya stands there for a moment longer, any hope that had built up withering away. Then the door opens again. Dazai reaches out and snatches the coffee from the cardboard holder. "I'll take this, though."
Okay. Okay. Chuuya can do this.
He catches Dazai outside his classroom next, with a box full of chocolates.
"Hey," He says again, as Dazai stares at him. Then Dazai turns away, briefly. When he looks back at Chuuya, his face is stoic.
"Sorry, are you talking to me?" He asks, tilting his head.
"Dazai, come on." Chuuya complains. "I got you chocolates. You like sweet things. Can we talk now?"
Dazai raises an eyebrow and holds out his hand. Chuuya practically shoves the chocolates into his open fingers, and Dazai bites his lip, taking a good look.
"No." He says, and starts to walk away, still holding the chocolates. "Goodbye Chuuya!"
"Goddammit Dazai!" Chuuya yells, exasperated. "What's it gonna take for you to just talk to me?"
Dazai just lifts a hand and waves as he leaves. He doesn't say another word.
Flowers. Dazai has to like flowers.
"How do I apologize to someone with flowers?" Chuuya demands, as soon as he walks in the door of the flower shop.
A boy with uneven hair stands behind the counter. He blinks, surprised, before smiling wide.
"That's the second time in a week I've had someone ask me that question." He says. "What kind of apology are you thinking?"
"Shit." Chuuya mutters. He hadn't thought that far ahead. "I just want to apologize. I want him to forgive me. That's all."
"Blue hyacinths are always a good choice." The boy says, nodding his head and stepping around the counter. "They represent making peace, so if you're looking to get forgiveness, I can get a bouquet of them together right now."
"Please." Chuuya replies, fishing his wallet out of his pocket. "And can you make it quick? Sorry, I'm kind of on a tight schedule."
He runs the whole way to Dazai's dorm. He's sweaty and panting by the time he reaches it, and the hyacinths are wilting in his arms from the heat. When Dazai opens the door, he stares at Chuuya with a blank face, and then turns around fully. Chuuya thinks, for a moment, that he sees Dazai's shoulders shake. But there's no hint of emotion on his face when he turns back around.
"Hi." Chuuya says, breathless.
"Hi." Dazai says. "You're back."
Chuuya nods.
"I'm back." He agrees. "And I brought flowers."
He waves them in the air, and some of the petals fall off and drift onto the floor. Dazai raises an eyebrow.
"I can see that." He says. "Blue hyacinths, huh?"
"Yeah." Chuuya nods again. "Blue hyacinths."
"You're sorry?" Dazai asks. "Genuinely sorry?"
"Yes." Chuuya insists. "I am, I really am. I'm sorry, Dazai."
Dazai nods thoughtfully, taking the flowers into his arms.
"Thanks." He says. "You can go now."
Then he shuts the door.
"I don't know what I'm doing wrong." Chuuya groans, his head in his hands. Shirase pats his back comfortingly.
"There, there." He soothes. "You just have to atone for your mistakes, that's all."
"How much?" Chuuya demands. "My wallet is empty."
"Have you ever thought he might not want material items?" Shirase asks.
Chuuya throws his hands up in the air.
"You're the one who told me to get ideas from romcoms!" He exclaims. "If anything, this is your fault!"
Shirase gives him a blank stare.
"I want you to think about what you just said for a whole minute and then tell me if you still think that sounds right."
Chuuya buries his face in his hands.
"Sorry." He says, his voice muffled. "I'm just at my wit's end. I don't know what he wants from me. Does he need a song, or something?"
"Maybe." Shirase shrugs. "Think about it a little harder, maybe you'll come up with something."
"Maybe." Chuuya mutters. He's not giving up this time.
"We really need to talk." Chuuya says, out of breath again. "Please slow down. My legs are too short for this."
Dazai keeps walking.
"I'm really, really not in the mood for this right now." He mutters. "Aren't you having enough fun buying my forgiveness? Do you really need to accost me everywhere?"
"Fun?" Chuuya asks, bewildered. "You honestly think this is fun for me? Dazai, what the hell? I've been trying to apologize for weeks, and you've barely said a word to me at all. What about that could possibly be fun."
Dazai stops in his tracks, his eyes stormy.
"You're the one who told me you never wanted to hear from me again." He snaps. "Don't tell me you're honestly having regrets now that you're getting your way."
"But I am!" Chuuya protests. "I just want to talk. Please talk to me."
"Fine!" Dazai exclaims. "Fine! I'll talk. Do you have any idea how much I went through for you? What it took to go to Paris? What it took to get those stupid pills? Do you have any idea at all?! I don't want your stupid apology, okay? Leave me alone, Chuuya."
"I won't!" Chuuya shouts. "I won't leave you alone. I won't because you haven't looked me in the eye this entire conversation! If you can look me directly in the eye and tell me you honestly never want to see me again, I'll listen. But until then, tough. I'm not leaving until you hear me out."
He can feel his eyes burning, a lump growing in his throat, but he won't cry. He doesn't want there to be a chance that Dazai will feel guilty and accept an apology he isn't ready to accept.
Dazai doesn't meet his eyes. He swallows so roughly it looks like it hurts, but his eyes are downcast, staring at the ground.
"You have no idea." He croaks out. "How much what you said hurt. You have no clue. You couldn't possibly understand."
"Dazai…" Chuuya whispers. "I know. I really am sorry."
"Then why did you say it?" Dazai asks, his voice breaking. "Everything I told you… I trusted you with that. I trusted you, Chuuya, and you threw it all back in my face. I get that I messed up. I get that I lied, and that you were angry, but I… I didn't deserve that, okay?"
"I know." Chuuya says again, feeling like he could burst into tears at any moment.
"I was hurting, too." Dazai chokes out. "All those months, hearing you talk about how we wouldn't be good for each other, how it was just sex, and nothing more, that hurt, too. You wanted to know if I meant it? I did. I still mean it. And the worst part is I want to forgive you. I want to forgive you like it's nothing, and just forget about it all already, but I can't. Because I deserve better than that. I deserve better than what you did. And I deserve better than some crappy apology you came up with on the fly, too."
"What is it going to take?" Chuuya asks, his voice wobbling. "What can I do, Dazai? I want to be friends again, I want– I want to be close again, I want you to trust me again. What can I do to earn it back?"
"I'm not ready." Dazai says. "I can't accept your apology yet. Just… give me some time, okay? I just need some more time."
"Okay," Chuuya agrees. "Okay. Whatever it takes. I'll be here when you're ready. I'm not going anywhere."
Dazai finally looks up, and he gives Chuuya a watery smile.
"I really needed to hear that two months ago." He murmurs. He starts to walk away again, but then pauses. "See you later, Chuuya."
Chuuya doesn't know when his heart stopped beating, but it feels like it resumes as Dazai walks away, thudding like a drum in his ribcage. He can wait. As long as it takes, he can wait.
Waiting is hard. It's late August now, and finally cooling down. Chuuya thinks that's good, because Dazai can finally wear that stupid coat without overheating.
Fucking Dazai. Chuuya can't stop thinking about him. How exhausted he'd looked, like even after getting out of the hospital, he hadn't been sleeping. Faded bruises on his neck. He doesn't blame Dazai for finding comfort somewhere else. Chuuya lost the right to that side of Dazai the moment those words came out of his mouth. Still, he can't help but worry.
What had Dazai meant? What had he meant when he'd talked about what he had to do? Chuuya can only think about how he'd been hurt by someone the day Chuuya had gotten the news about his mom, and it makes his hands tighten into fists just thinking about it. His nails dig into his palms until it stings, leaving behind crescent marks that don't quite break skin, but are nearly deep enough to.
The thought of Dazai doing something that would hurt him all for Chuuya's sake makes it hard to breathe. His breath is caught in his lungs, swelling under his ribcage, and it feels like he might be dying.
He has to call Fyodor.
The phone rings once, twice, and then Fyodor picks up.
"If he doesn't want to talk to you, I promise going through me is not going to help." He says.
"No, that's not it." Chuuya hurries to say. "He's not– is he in the room with you?"
"...No." Fyodor says, sounding skeptical. "What is this about, Chuuya? What's so important that you have to talk to me about it without him hearing?"
"Do you think someone is hurting Dazai?" Chuuya blurts out. "Like really hurting him? Not just emotionally, but physically, too?"
Fyodor is silent for a moment before speaking.
"What brought this on?"
Chuuya huffs, frustrated.
"There were just… He has bruises, okay?" He says. "And that's fine, I don't mind if he's being safe about it, but I don't think he is. Before we left for Paris, someone hurt him. And he has weird ideas about consent, too. Like he doesn't think he can say no. Did you notice anything while we weren't talking? Anything at all?"
Fyodor seems to hesitate.
"I don't know if I should be saying anything." He replies. "Any time I do it just ends up causing trouble."
"Please, Fyodor." Chuuya pleads. "This is for Dazai. I can't help him if I don't know."
"I had some… suspicions." Fyodor says, eventually. "The day before he overdosed, I noticed them. Bruises, like you said. He looked like he'd been mauled, and he was limping. I told him he needed to tell someone if there was someone hurting him, because…" He trails off.
"Because what?" Chuuya asks, his heart pounding.
"Because I think whoever it is might be working for the school." Fyodor tells him. "That's why. I can't do anything if I don't know who."
"Okay," Chuuya murmurs, his thoughts racing. "I'll figure it out. Thanks, Fyodor."
"No problem." Fyodor says. "Just don't let him know I said anything."
"I won't." Chuuya promises, and hangs up.
Not much longer than a week later, his phone rings. Chuuya scrambles to pick up, unwilling to miss a call from Dazai, if it's even from him. One look at his phone screen confirms it.
"Hi," Chuuya says, out of breath from rushing to get to his phone. There's a moment of silence, and then Dazai speaks.
"Hi," He replies, his voice quiet. "You actually picked up this time."
Chuuya can hear the slight smile when he talks, imagines the upward turn of his lips, and his whole body slumps in relief.
"It's good to hear you again." He chokes out. "I missed you. A lot."
There's a longer moment of silence, light static echoing over the line.
"I missed you too." Dazai admits finally, his voice crackling slightly, like his service is bad. "A lot."
"I missed you more." Chuuya protests. Dazai laughs, his voice breaking up over the phone line. It's a shame, because Chuuya loves that laugh more than anything. Loves Dazai more than anything. He hates that it took him so long to figure it all out. He hates that he never noticed that Dazai was always being sincere, when Chuuya thought that he was joking.
"Are you sure about that?" Dazai asks. This time Chuuya is sure he can hear that smile. He longs to see it in person. "I don't think that's possible, Chuuya."
Dazai says his name like it's something sacred, even now. Even when Chuuya has fucked things up almost beyond repair.
"I want to see you." Chuuya blurts out. "Can I see you, please?"
There's the sound of fabric rustling over the line as Dazai must shift. Chuuya pictures him on his mattress, pictures his hair falling into his eyes, the Kuromi plushie he'd won sitting beside him. He wants to be there, too. He wants that.
"I'm not sure…" Dazai trails off. Chuuya's heart sinks. "I'm not sure if that's the best idea right now. I'm kind of a mess, Chuuya. I don't really want you to see me like that."
"I don't mind." Chuuya protests. "It's nothing I haven't seen before, and I don't care what you look like. I just need to see your face. I just need to see you."
He doesn't say what he's thinking most. I need to know you're okay.
Because even after a month of knowing that Dazai is alive, that he's back and attending classes like normal, even after seeing him multiple times, he needs to know.
Dazai had seemed miserable all of those times. Lips torn from biting them, bags under his eyes and hair messy like he'd run his fingers through it one too many times. Slouched over like it was exhausting just to carry the weight of his own body.
Chuuya needs to see him again, even if he still looks that way.
"I guess we do need to talk," Dazai says after a long pause, a pause in which Chuuya's heart pounds wildly, impatiently awaiting an answer. "And I do want to see you. Even if I'm still upset. Even if I want to hate you right now."
"But you don't?" Chuuya asks, desperate. "Hate me, I mean."
Dazai laughs again, but it's sadder now, like it hurts him to do so.
"I don't think I could ever hate Chuuya." He murmurs. "No matter what you've done."
"I don't deserve your forgiveness." Chuuya whispers, tearing up again. He wipes at his eyes with the hand that isn't holding his phone.
"Don't get me wrong," Dazai says. "I haven't forgiven you. Not yet, anyways. But I'll hear you out this time."
"Okay." Chuuya says. "Okay. Thank you."
They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, just the two of them breathing together on opposite sides of a phone line.
"Before we meet," Dazai's voice is quiet again. "I think we should set some rules."
Chuuya's heart stops.
"Rules?" He asks.
"Rules." Dazai agrees.
"Okay," Chuuya says. "Alright. What are your rules, Dazai?"
I'll follow them, he thinks. Whatever it takes. I'll do whatever it takes to be near you again.
"Number one," Dazai's voice trembles as he speaks, unsure of himself, like he's not sure Chuuya will agree once the rules are out in the open. "No kissing."
Chuuya freezes. Oh. Oh.
"Number two," Dazai lists. "No sex."
Chuuya hadn't expected that they would fall back together like before, two puzzle pieces meant to fit together, two people meant to be. Still, hearing it hurts.
"Number three," Dazai continues, his voice shaking more now, and Chuuya snaps out of being frozen. They'd only ever had two rules before. "Don't go falling in love with me. I'm not sure I could take something like that right now."
Chuuya doesn't dare to say that he's been in love with Dazai for longer than he'd even realized. Paris was just the finishing touch on the masterpiece that was the two of them.
"Okay." Chuuya says. It's all he can manage to agree to rules he'd set first, all those months ago. "Whatever it takes."
Dazai breathes out a sigh of relief on the other line.
"Coffee?" He asks. Chuuya nods, even though he knows Dazai can't see him.
"Coffee." He says, and then clears his throat. "Coffee sounds good."
"Good." Dazai agrees. "I'll see you there. Twenty minutes sound good?"
"Yeah." Chuuya nods again, getting to his feet. "Twenty minutes. I'll be there."
"Have a seat." Dazai says. Chuuya listens.
They sit together, in the coffee shop that over the few months they came there had become theirs.Their spot, their hidden corner in the back, just for them.
"Hi." Dazai murmurs.
"Hi." Chuuya says back. His heart is pounding and his hands are clammy. He wipes them on his pants to dry them of sweat.
"Go on, then." Dazai takes a sip of his coffee. "Talk."
Chuuya struggles to find the words he wants to speak, before he settles for, "I don't know how to start."
Dazai just watches him, like he has all the time in the world. Like he'd wait a thousand years to hear what Chuuya has to say. Like he could just sit there and watch Chuuya for ages, eyes tracing over his features like it's the last time they'll ever meet. Chuuya hopes, prays, that it's not the last time.
"I'm sorry." Chuuya manages, eventually. "Dazai, I'm really sorry. I really am. I don't want you to forgive me yet. I don't think it would be fair to you for me to expect something like that. But I'll do anything if you just give me a second chance. One more chance to prove myself to you. That you can trust me again."
His eyes are wet by the time he finishes. The stoic look on Dazai's face softens somewhat.
"That's the worst part." Dazai murmurs. "I think I'd still trust you somewhat, no matter what you did to me."
Chuuya closes his eyes to stop any tears from falling. He won't let them. This is about Dazai, not him.
"What can I do?" Chuuya asks, opening his eyes again. Dazai's head is tilted, hair falling into his eyes just like Chuuya had pictured while they talked on the phone. "What do you want from me, Dazai? Because I'll do anything, anything. Just to get back to where we were."
Dazai shakes his head.
"I don't think we'll be back to where we were for a long time." He says softly. "No matter how much we both want it. But I'm willing to try." He adds, when Chuuya deflates in his seat. "I'm willing to try. For you. For us."
"For us." Chuuya agrees. He can't help the wobbly smile that crosses his face. "Okay."
"The rules still stand." Dazai reminds him, and Chuuya nods.
"Of course." He says. Whatever it takes.
"Alright then," Dazai starts, resting his head on one hand, smiling at Chuuya like he'd done before. Like Chuuya is the best thing he'd ever seen. God, how hadn't Chuuya noticed before? He's just as dense as Shirase had said, after all. "Hi."
"Hi." Chuuya says back, dumbly.
"My name is Dazai Osamu." Dazai says. "I like black coffee and carousels and impromptu trips to Paris. What about you?"
So this is the game they're playing.
"Starting over." Chuuya whispers, and then clears his throat. "I'm Nakahara Chuuya, but you can just call me Chuuya. I like hot chocolate and cloud gazing. And apologizing when I've done something wrong, even though I'm bad at it."
Dazai smiles softly, and it looks right, like it actually belongs on his face this time.
"Hi, Chuuya." His voice is soft, too, and warm. "Let's do things right this time, okay?