Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chuuya Nakahara is selfish.

At least, that's what she thinks as her eyes flit between her test and the brunette seated in front of her, soaking in the sight. Armed with bandages and smarts, Dazai's position gives Chuuya a clear view of her back. Her white blouse is snug around her shoulders, covering her from elbow to collarbone. The parts that aren't covered are wrapped in bandages, dangling from her like ribbons.

As if she's a demon with eyes on the back of her head (and honestly, Chuuya doesn't doubt it), Dazai turns her head, to catch her stare. She gives Chuuya a wink, secretive and so fast the redhead could have imagined it. It makes her want to scream, but the blood comes rushing to her face instead. Before the teacher could scold her for looking too long (not that it would get anywhere--Dazai always had a talent for getting in and out of trouble), the brunette is back looking over her paper. She knows that Dazai's been done for ages and is only staying behind to annoy her, just by existing, somehow. It's exactly the kind of dastardly thing Dazai would pull, after all. 

The way they know each other so well is almost terrifying, really. Chuuya hates it, whatever messed up relationship they have. She hates her. 

Hates how the brunette sits with her stocking-clad legs crossed, purposefully showing off her stupidly long legs-just another reminder that Chuuya is… vertically challenged. Hates how Dazai's still beautiful even when her hair has had fingers run through them and her body is pinned against a wall, gasping out the redhead's name.

But most of all, Chuuya hates the way Dazai looks at her, brown eyes softened by the moonlight and her own feelings of detestation drowned out by the haze of having the brunette in her bed. 

Dazai is infuriating, to say the least. 
 
But somehow, Chuuya's worse, because she wants it.

Chuuya thinks she's relatively attractive, to put it humbly. Others would agree, if you were to look at the dozens of flowers she gets on Valentine's and the times she gets asked out on the daily. Thankfully it's mostly stopped--but she has a sneaking suspicion that Dazai has been threatening some of the boys in their class, if the terrified looks some of them give her hold any merit.

Really, the bandaged bastard always had such skill for inserting herself into Chuuya's life, and a special interest in her relationships. 

It's one of those days where Chuuya is frustrated though, because even though that Dazai has threats to go on for days, it doesn't completely stop the leers and catcalls she gets in the hallways. So yes, she's frustrated, and enough so to bend the rules and escape to the school roof during their lunch hour. 

The steps are solid under her weight, carrying her to the uppermost floor. It's easy enough to sneak up here when the teachers are on their break, and easier to push open the metal door. She shifts her blazer, lunch in hand. 

The roof floor is an ugly concrete, not very attractive. People didn’t come up here, unless they wanted to be alone or fuck around with someone. That, or you're a suicidal maniac like Dazai Osamu.

Said suicidal maniac looks like she's halfway to Hell already, aching to jump off the edge.

Chuuya blinks, wondering if the brunette will fall while her eyes are closed. Unfortunately for both of them, Dazai stays perched on the rail, legs elegantly looped around the steel.

She brushes a strand of red hair back, a nervous tick. She hates how it comes out more often when Dazai is around, especially since the brunette finds it cute.

Honestly, who tells the person you're fucking around with that you think she's cute? Dazai Fucking Osamu, apparently. 

(Sometimes Chuuya wonders who else Dazai fools around with. She reasons that Dazai is good-lucking, absolutely stunning, beautiful if she was being honest--which Chuuya usually wasn't. And Arahabaki knows that the brunette is insatiable in bed. Surely there's others that Dazai would fuck whenever Chuuya refused the girl's advances. Or rather, others who would fuck her, because if Chuuya knew one thing about the enigma, it was that she was an absolute pillow princess.)

Chuuya doesn't even need to notify her presence--not that she would even bother to. If she startled Dazai into falling off, all the better. Sadly, Dazai doesn't even tense when she steps onto the grey concrete, just leans her head back a little to see Chuuya's exasperated expression.

"You're late, chibi. Finally ready to accept my proposal?" Dazai flashes a charming smile, with a little too much teeth in it.

"Proposal?" Her voice is snide as she fires back hotly, "You mean your death wish."

"That's not a no," comes the brunette's lilt, a sweet, sing-song voice.

The brunette stares at her. Chuuya stares back.

Then, with a cautious bite of the lip the redhead has never seen, Dazai grabs onto her shirt and pulls.

For a second, Chuuya thinks that Dazai has finally gone batshit crazy, and is bringing Chuuya down with her. A shriek is on the tip of her tongue, a call for help when your not-friend with benefits who you might have a crush on tries to commit double suicide with you. 

(After all, it's not like Chuuya's ugly, so it's not like she's completely out of Dazai's type of "pretty and will die with me". It doesn't mean that Chuuya wants to die today, with or without her.)

It's worse than what Chuuya's come to expect, somehow.

She kisses her. Dazai kisses her.

It muffles whatever noise was coming out of the redhead's mouth, and brings a halt to all her brain function, because despite all the casual hook-ups and sleeping in each other's beds, Dazai has never kissed her. 

It's better than she imagined, not that Chuuya has wasted much time on the thought. Dazai's lips are soft, a little chapped, but soft. There's not a lot of tongue, just a gentle press of skin against skin, lips touching lips. It's not as rough as Chuuya thought it would be, less teeth and just a touch of tongue.

It hits her all at once, a giddy, disbelieving feeling, because Chuuya Nakahara is kissing the girl she despises with all her soul. 

They're kissing, on the school roof, with the sun shining on them like they deserve it. 

It's disgusting, how much Chuuya likes it. She absolutely fucking hates how much she wants it. The worst part? This, the kisses, they aren't enough.

She wants dumb, cliché picnic dates that she's seen in the movies, and the thrill of being high-strung with love on a dirty school roof. She wants the giddiness that comes with Dazai lacing their hands together and throwing biting remarks to the people who disapprove of them. Chuuya wants to wake up one day with teasing lips pressed against her own and a sweet voice in her ear, but most of all she wants those things with Dazai.

And sure, all those are far-off maybes, possibilities and gleams of a future they could have together, but right now, she wants more.

Filled with a sudden surge of want and need, Chuuya presses more insistently against the brunette. She brushes her tongue against the other. It's breathtaking, literally and figuratively, but Chuuya doesn't mind it at all if it means that both of their faces are flushed redder than her hair. 

(She thinks, distantly, that she wouldn't even mind if they died from lack of oxygen, not when the high is so sweet.)

When they separate, it's a world full of loss and new beginnings, rebirth and relationships. The air tastes refreshing when they're so high above the ground, and Dazai looks about as put-together as Chuuya's sure she herself isn't.

And then, the bandaged brunette twists her fingers harder into her collared blouse, pulling the two of them impossibly closer. Chuuya doesn't mind, not at all.

That is, until Dazai decides to suck so many hickeys into her neck that even concealer would have trouble covering up the purplish-red splotches. 

"Dazai," she growls, not-so-gently shoving the brunette off her to change their positions. Dazai's back hits the rail as Chuuya presses in close, possessively caressing the other's neck in her hands. It's breathtaking, having her nemesis's life quite literally in her hands.

"Chuuya," the other mimics, the name spilling from plump lips with a lilt. The edges of Dazai's eyes are crinkled slightly, a lazy smile slowly but surely taking over. The way she says it sends chills down Chuuya's spine, and for the hundredth time that day, a flare of annoyance shoots up.

Nonetheless, Chuuya leans in again and Dazai meets her in the middle.

The next morning, Chuuya wakes up to something pressed against her back. It takes a moment to leave the haze of newly-found consciousness, but her fully awakened self is quickly flipped over to meet a warm body and a peck on the cheek. Her eyes open to see Dazai, in all her bedhead glory.

Of course, waking up with your girlfriend means obligatory kisses. Lots of them. The brunette's already claiming her lips by the time Chuuya mutters a late "Good morning."

In the grand scheme of things, it's nothing special, at least compared to their other make-out sessions, except it is special because as corny as it sounds, Chuuya will take everything Dazai's willing to give her. Especially if it means they can stay longer in bed, wrapped up in each others' embrace. 

Dazai pulls back, and Chuuya presses forward with a garbled whine, trying to taste more of her. It's too late for Chuuya to play it off, bleary eyelids blinding lethargically at the other. A teasing smile plays on the lips Chuuya was just sucking.

"Aw, you really are selfish, aren't you, chibi? Or would greedy be a better word?" Dazai loosely wraps her lanky arms around her torso, like an oversized koala. Chuuya responds by pinching her arm, but doesn't reject it. She leans in a little, letting them lay together and bathe in the morning-after bliss.

"Please," the redhead scoffs. "If I'm selfish, what does that make you?" 

Dazai nuzzles her nose into her neck, pressing a kiss to a lovebite. Chuuya can't help but shiver and press closer, willing her to do more. Fortunately for both of them, the brunette doesn't stop her trail upwards, only pausing to place her lips delicately against the shell of Chuuya's ear.

"Yours. I'm yours, and you're mine."

She states it simply, with complete seriousness, as if it's a fact of the world and not a cheesy line she just pulled out of her ass. The redhead thinks, hopes, that somehow, in both of their hearts, they know it's true. Chuuya glances up to meet red-tinted eyes shining with mirth and the soft glow of barely-restrained affection, and maybe, just maybe, this can be enough.