Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dazai stared mindlessly at his ceiling, not bothering to turn off his alarm clock that had been blaring for the past ten minutes. The repetitive noise blended into the background. Once again, he hadn’t slept.

The buzzing hum of his alarm clock was almost comforting at this point, the defeaning noise drowned out everything else. He wasn’t even sure why he still set it, seeing as he never got any sleep anyway. Maybe it was habit. Maybe a desperate attempt to cling to some semblance of a routine.

He clung desperately to every extra minute he had to himself in bed, unwilling to face the world outside. A world that demanded effort, and socialisation with other peoole. As if waking up wasn’t already exhausting enough, which it most certainly was, today he had an extra burden to face. Starting at a new school.

He groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face, his palm pressing hard into his eyes as if he could physically push the thoughts away. Who the hell joins a new school a few months into Year 11? Apparently, he does. Against his will anyway.

The memories of the past few months crept back in like a poison. He’d been forced to leave his old school after a rather dramatic, but failed, attempt at ending his life. It wasn’t his first attempt, but it had been the one that got everyone's attention unfortunately. After a hospital stay and a rather dramatic few months, his uncle had decided that he needed a "fresh start", whatever that meant.

His uncle’s words echoed mockingly in his mind,
“A new environment might do you some good.”

Sure. Because new walls and new faces could magically erase years of existential dread and numb detachment. What did it matter where he went? In Dazai’s eyes, it was all meaningless anyway. Life was just an endless loop of disappointments and forced smiles. He didn’t care for school. He didn’t care for people. He didn’t care for the future. Because, to him, there wasn’t one worth fighting for.

And yet, despite his lack of care, Dazai was a prodigy. A natural genius, people said. The teachers that didnt hate him called him a miracle student. He scored full marks with minimal effort, memorised texts with terrifying accuracy, and made complex work look effortless. His mind worked faster than he could speak sometimes, which made most conversations feel like a chore. Everybody bored him.

He had a particular fondness for English. Literature, to be precise. Reading gave him an escape from his reality. Books never asked questions. They didn’t care how many scars you had or how numb you were. They simply told a story. And for a little while, Dazai could pretend he was someone else. In a separate world.

Finally, after another long moment of stillness, Dazai exhaled sharply and decided he had to get up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood slowly, his limbs aching with the kind of emptiness that no amount of rest could ever really fix. His feet hit the cold floor and he trudged to the bathroom, flipping on the light with a flick.

The mirror greeted him with cruel honesty.

He looked towards it, and an empty shell stared back—one with dark, sunken eyes and hair that had long since given up trying to behave. The brown strands stuck out in messy tufts, he couldnt renember the last time he ran a brush through the mess. His skin looked pale, ghost-like. Lifeless.

He ran a hand through his hair and winced slightly as his fingers caught on knots. He didn’t bother fixing them.

Stripping off the clothes he slept in and carefully removing his bandages, he looked towards the ceiling, refusing to look directly at the scars that marked his skin. He wasn’t ready to see them today. Instead, he turned the shower on and stepped in, cranking the temperature to the max.

Scalding water pelted down on his skin like punishment. It burned. But he didn’t move. Instead, opting to simply accept the barrage of pain it granted him.

He stood there, letting the scalding water wash over him, letting it sting away the numbness for a few moments. The sensation grounded him. The sharp sting across his arms was almost a relief. Atleast it got rid of some of the tiredness.

When he stepped out, he dried himself half-heartedly, roughly rubbing his hair with a towel until it was just barely dry. He stared into the mirror again. This time, the reflection was slightly less ghastly. Still tired, still empty, but cleaner and more presentable. That counted for something, he supposed.

He didn't put much thought into his appearance. He never did. He knew he was attractive—he wasn’t blind. Sharp jawline, deep brown eyes, soft lips, but it all felt like a waste. What good was beauty when you felt so hollow inside?

He pulled on his new school uniform; a stiff, white shirt, a green and gold tie (green to signify his assigned house), and a dark blazer. His usual bandages peeked out from beneath the sleeves and collar, wrapping around his wrists and neck. He didn’t bother hiding them. People always stared anyway, and it wasn't going to be different today either.

After packing a worn backpack with a notebook and the essential stationary, he left his bedroom and wandered downstairs, his backpack slung over one shoulder lazily.
The scent of toast and coffee filled the air. His uncle, Mori, was seated at the kitchen table with his young daughter, Elise, beside him, swinging her legs and munching on a bowl of brightly-coloured cereal happily.

“Good morning, Dazai. You're going to be late, you know,” Mori said without looking up from the newspaper in his hands.

Dazai gave an unbothered shrug. “Yeah, I’m leaving now.”

He didn’t stop to eat. The idea of food made his stomach churn with unease and nausea. He raised a lazy hand in a half-hearted wave and walked straight out the door.

Mori watched him go, eyes trailing after the door even after it had closed. He said nothing, but worry flickered across his expression briefly. He wasn’t one to care about emotions, he preferred logic, control and results, but there was a quiet concern in the way he stared after him.

Outside, the sky was a pale grey, reflecting on his current mood. Dazai walked slowly, his hands buried deep in his pockets. His schoolbag bounced lightly against his back. He took the long route, cutting through a quiet park, where the sounds of traffic faded and the chirping of birds took their place.

He could’ve taken the bus. But he liked walking. Walking gave him time to think, to breathe, and to exist without people pressing in around him. He passed by benches and trees, feeling the breeze tug at his blazer and ruffle his hair. It was strangely calming. It was just what he needed before the chaos of the day started.

As he neared the school gates, the murmur of students grew louder. Laughing and shouting could be heard all around him. The building loomed ahead, a towering structure of brick and glass. His new hell.

He sighed and adjusted his bag strap.

A new school. A new set of faces. New people to pretend to care about him, new teachers to get impressed by his brain, new classmates to make judgments based on things they didn’t understand.

Wonderful.

But still… somewhere deep down, Dazai wondered if maybe—just maybe—this time, something would be different. Though that was simply a hopeful thought.

---

Chapter Text

Once Dazai entered the new school, he firstly went to find the school’s reception, needing to figure out what his first lesson was and where the classroom even was. So for now, he wandered the halls aimlessly with the crumpled timetable he’d just retrieved in hand, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar layout.

As expected, navigating through a brand-new school wasn’t exactly easy, especially one that seemed to have been built like a damn labyrinth. Students bustled past him, the noise of casual talking and lockers slamming shut adding to the overwhelming chaos.
Dazai wasn’t looking where he was going—his eyes were glued to the timetable in his hand, trying to make sense of which block was where—and just like that, someone rammed into him at full force.

They both crashed to the floor in the middle of the crowded corridor, drawing a couple of annoyed glances and a few snickers from other students passing by. Dazai grabbed the back of his head as a dull ache throbbed at the spot it had collided with the hard ground.

It wasn’t an unbearable pain, but still enough to add to his already worsening day. He groaned softly, half in pain, half in irritation. As he sat up slightly, he searched for the clumsy idiot who had slammed into him like an absolute idiot. He was surprised to see the boy already standing, hand extended, offering to help Dazai up.

Dazai’s eyes finally settled on the boy who had knocked him over—and, well. “Attractive” didn’t even begin to cover it. He was short, annoyingly so, which only made the impact more baffling. How someone of his underwhelming height had managed to knock him flat on his ass was beyond him. But his height wasn’t what caught Dazai off guard. It was his face.

Dark ginger hair framed his face in a way that was almost criminally perfect. And his eyes - God, his eyes were two completely different colours. One a deep chocolate brown, the other a crystal blue. The contrast between them was both jarring and mesmerizing. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks like constellations, adding a kind of softness to the sharp lines of his expression. His lips were full, tinted a faint pink, and looked annoyingly pretty .Altogether, the boy had the face of someone who should be on the cover of a magazine, not crashing into strangers in school corridors.

Before Dazai could spiral any deeper into those ridiculous thoughts, a voice pulled him out of it. A voice that sounded way too good to be real.

“Sorry for knocking you over like that, man. I was in a rush.” The boy’s voice was rich and smooth, like honey , but it also had a rough edge to it. Oh it was perfect.

The hand was still outstretched, and Dazai stared at it for a second too long before he finally snapped back to reality. His heart was pounding in his chest—way harder than it should’ve been from a minor fall. His thoughts raced, twisting themselves into tangled knots. Why the hell was he reacting like this? It didn’t make any sense. Surely it had to be hatred or irritation due to being knocked over? Right?

He must be annoyed. Yes, that was it. Irritation. The guy had crashed into him and made him hit his head, and now his heart was racing because of sheer annoyance. That had to be it.

Shoving any traitorous thoughts about the boy’s looks to the back of his mind, Dazai blinked up at him, finally accepting the offered hand. But as usual, when in doubt, Dazai defaulted to what he did best: being a sarcastic little shit.

“It’s alright, pipsqueak. I suppose it isn’t your fault you’re too short to be seen,” he muttered with a faint smirk.

The boy was halfway through helping Dazai up when the words sank in. His face shifted from concerned to completely livid in the span of a second. He yanked his hand away with a scoff, causing Dazai to stumble back onto the floor again, this time landing squarely on his ass.

“HAHH? What’d you just say to me, you prick?!”

His voice rose in outrage, and the few nearby students who had already slowed down to stare were now giggling at the scene.

Dazai looked up, feigning a look of innocence, his brown eyes gleaming with mischief. “Hmm? Ed Sheeran didn’t hear me?” he said, pretending to be confused.

The boy’s face turned the same shade as his fiery hair, a mix of fury and sheer embarrassment seeped into his face. He looked seconds away from spontaneously combusting. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles turning white as if holding himself back from lunging at Dazai there and then.

“I was being nice! I apologized to you, you bastard!” he shouted, clearly at his wit’s end.

Dazai only snickered in reply. This was too fun. He hadn’t even made it to his first lesson yet and he’d already found someone to irritate to the point of combustion. It was a welcome distraction from the crushing weight that normally sat on his chest.

Just as it looked like the ginger was going to lunge at him, another boy—around the same age, with silver-grey hair and a face that showed he was fed up and used to Chuuyas antics, stepped in and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Oi, Chuuya, we’re gonna be late if you keep trying to scrap with random people who bump into you in the halls,” the newcomer muttered, sounding absolutely exhausted.

Dazai tilted his head and raised an eyebrow,, “Well, to be precise, shortarse was the one who bumped into me.”

That remark made the ginger—Chuuya, apparently—redden even further. His entire posture screamed rage, but the hold on his shoulder kept him firmly in place.

As if on cue, the loud school bell echoed through the corridor, signaling the start of first period. Dazai finally got to his feet, brushing imaginary dust off his uniform, and glanced at Chuuya with a smirk.

“You’re fucking lucky, asshole,” Chuuya snapped, jabbing a finger toward him. “If I wasn’t about to be late, I’d wipe that smug grin off your face.”

Dazai simply laughed mockingly, the sound light and airy. “Whoa, so scaryy.” he giggled.

Before Chuuya could shoot back another insult, the grey-haired boy dragged him away, muttering something under his breath that Dazai couldn’t hear.

And just like that, they were gone, disappearing around the corner in the direction of what Dazai assumed was their classroom. He blinked after them, then glanced down at his timetable again with a sigh. Right—he still had no clue where he was going.

Now that the corridor was empty, asking for directions wasn’t an option anymore. He had no choice but to wander the halls aimlessly and hope he’d stumble upon the right classroom eventually. Thankfully, his first lesson was English, and that was one of the few subjects he actually liked. A small mercy.

As he walked, though, he couldn’t help but replay the earlier interaction over and over again in his mind. The ridiculous insult match. The dumb freckled face scrunching up in anger. The mismatched eyes. The freckles. That voice..

Chapter Text

Chuuya’s alarm had, once again, failed him.

The stupid annoying ringtone that he’d grown desensitised to over the years didn’t do its job, and as a result, he was once again racing against the clock, just like every other chaotic morning in his life. It was honestly a miracle he hadn’t been given detention for chronic lateness by now. Most of his teachers had given up on scolding him altogether—clearly deciding it was a lost cause.

With a loud groan, he kicked off the tangle of blankets wrapped around his legs and swung himself out of bed. He scrambled around the room desperately trying to piece together his school uniform from the disorganised mess that had become his wardrobe. A half-crumpled white shirt was yanked off the back of his chair, a tie was found under his bed, and his blazer was buried beneath a pile of laundry he promised himself he’d "do tomorrow" well that obviously never happened.

He didn’t even bother to tuck his shirt in or fix his collar properly. It hung messily over the waistband of his trousers, and the loosely tied school tie swung crookedly around his neck. His hair, still slightly tousled from sleep, was left mostly untouched save for a few half-hearted finger-combs. Oh well, it looked decent. It was still pretty short anyway so it didn't really matter, but he planned to grow it out at some point.

After grabbing his rucksack, he bolted downstairs, skipping two steps at a time. He snatched up whatever snack he could find off the kitchen counter—a protein bar, or maybe a stale slice of toast, he didn’t even register it properly—and hollered a quick goodbye to his older sister, who barely glanced up from her coffee.

The moment he stepped outside, the cold bit into him instantly. A sharp gust of autumn wind whipped against his face, making his cheeks sting slightly and causing his ginger hair to fly up wildly in the breeze. He zipped up his jacket halfway as he set off at a fast pace, shoes clacking against the pavement, dead leaves crunching beneath his feet.

He tried not to let his mind wander too much, being late was already stressful enough, but something one of his friends mentioned the other day popped back into his head. A transfer student was joining their school. He didn’t know anything about them other than that they’d be starting today, but curiosity tugged at him slightly. New people didn’t come often. Maybe this one wouldn’t be a total bore.

The school gates came into view just as the warning bell echoed faintly from inside the building. Chuuya picked up his pace, sprinting the rest of the way and weaving through the trickle of other late students. As he reached the entrance, he scanned the courtyard quickly and spotted Shirase and Yuan, leaning casually near the bike racks.

"Hey guys," Chuuya greeted, jogging up and throwing a lazy grin at them. He dapped Shirase up as he approached.

"Late as usual, then?" Shirase snorted, raising a brow with a smirk.

Yuan giggled beside him, shaking her head. "We've been here for a while. I’m guessing your alarm failed you again?"

Chuuya rolled his eyes, letting out a short sigh. "Yeah, yeah, blame my alarm. Let’s just get going before we all end up with detention."

The three of them headed towards the building, but their hurried walk quickly escalated into a full-on sprint as they glanced at the clock and realised how little time they had. Chuuya led the charge, narrowly dodging students left and right as he barreled through the corridor.

That was, until he didn’t.

Everything happened so fast. One moment he was running full speed, and the next he collided with something—no, someone—hard enough to send them both sprawling to the floor.

The impact left him stunned for a moment. He blinked quickly, trying to process what had just happened. Slowly, he stood up and brushed himself off, wincing slightly at the sting in his elbows where he hit the ground. Without hesitation, he reached a hand down to help the other person up.

As his gaze fell upon the stranger, he immediately registered that he had never seen this guy before. That, and he was absolutely, infuriatingly good-looking.

Messy, dark brown hair framed his sharp features, falling just past his brows in uneven strands. His skin was pale, accentuated by the deep bags beneath his eyes, and those eyes—warm, brown, tired-looking—seemed to hold too many secrets for someone his age.

There was something quietly intense about him, something mysterious. His lips were chapped, cheekbones sharp, he was way to handsome too be true, it was almost unfair. Chuuya was already well aware of his sexuality, having come out as gay to only his closest friends and family a little over a year ago. But if he hadn't known by now, this guy would have DEFINETLEY been his awakening.

Chuuya, very aware of how much he was staring, he quickly snapped out of it and tried to be polite, hoping to make a good first impression to the guy. He offered a sheepish smile and said, "Sorry for knocking you over like that, man. I was in a rush."

He kept his hand outstretched, trying not to make the situation any more awkward than it already was.

But the guy didn’t take it.

He just looked at Chuuya, brows raised slightly, head tilted like he was inspecting some strange creature. He eventually took the hand, but not without first letting a slow, cocky smirk curl onto his lips.

"It's alright, pipsqueak. I suppose it isn't your fault that you're too short to be seen."

Ah. Of course there's a catch.

His expression twisted immediately from concern to absolute fury. He yanked his hand back mid-lift, causing the guy to fall back onto his ass again with a thump.

"HAHH!? What’d you say to me, you prick!?"

People had started to slow down around them, some students even stopping entirely to watch the scene unfold. A few giggles echoed in the hallway. But Chuuya was locked in.

The smug bastard didn’t even flinch. He tilted his head again and said, with mock confusion, "Hm? Ed Sheeran didn’t hear me?"

If looks could kill, the one Chuuya was giving him would’ve reduced him to dust. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles white with restraint.

"I was being nice and apologised, you bastard!" he yelled, voice sharp and full of venom. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

He looked just about ready to lunge when a hand gripped his shoulder from behind. Shirase had finally caught up, panting slightly.

"Oi, Chuuya. We’re gonna be late if you keep trying to scrap with every person who so much as breathes in your direction."

That should’ve calmed him. It didn’t.

"Well, to be precise," the other boy spoke again, stretching the word out like it was a joke, "shortarse was the one who bumped into ME."

That did it.

Chuuya's glare intensified tenfold. His entire body tensed like a fuse had been lit. He could practically hear the internal sirens going off in his head.

Before he could retaliate, the school bell rang out loud and shrill, slicing through the tension like a knife. Students began scattering in all directions, the hallway quickly emptying out.

Chuuya pointed a finger dramatically, practically vibrating with rage. "You’re fucking lucky, asshole! If I wasn’t gonna be late, I’d be beating the shit out of you right now."

The guy only laughed, clearly enjoying every second of Chuuya's boiling anger.

"Whoa, so scary!" he teased with a giggle, and goddammit—Chuuya hated how pretty that laugh sounded.

He opened his mouth to fire back, but Shirase tugged his shoulder sharply and began dragging him away.

“That fucking bastard!” Chuuya grumbled loudly as he was pulled along, rage still bubbling. “Who the hell does he think he is? First day here and he's already acting like a cocky little shit. What an annoying kid.”

Shirase chuckled beside him. “You’re a kid too, Chuuya.”

"Yeah, well I'm not an annoying dickhead like him!" he snapped in return, crossing his arms.

The two entered their classroom just in time for English to start—Chuuya’s least favourite subject. He slumped into his chair, still fuming.

And yet, even as the teacher droned on about stupid, boring English stuff, his mind wouldn’t focus.

All he could think about was him.

That arrogant prick with his sharp smile and tired eyes. That laugh. That stupidly handsome face. Ugh he wanted to punch it.

He scowled and scribbled nonsense in his notebook, trying to ignore the heat that had settled in his chest.

There was no way in hell they were going to get along.

---

Chapter Text

Dazai pushed open the door to his English class, being approximately half an hour late to his first ever lesson. What a perfect first impression, he thought, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

His interruption didn't go unnoticed. The entire class turned around in unison, necks craning to see who dared to make such a late entrance. The teacher had stopped mid-sentence, chalk still in hand, frozen with a mildly incredulous expression. His eyes narrowed as he sized up the bandaged boy standing in the doorway, clearly expecting an explanation.

Before Dazai could announce his reason and toss in a half-hearted apology, a loud groan echoed from somewhere in the middle of the classroom, followed swiftly by a voice he already recognized annoyingly well.

"You're kidding me! This bandaged prick's in my class!?"

Dazai turned his head slowly, smile widening with recognition. There he was, the pretty, firey-haired boy he had bumped into earlier today. What was his name again? Chuuya? Yeah, that was it. Chuuya. A name that already felt nice on his tongue.

A strange warmth crept up Dazai's neck, and his heartbeat picked up slightly. The feeling was still completely foreign to Dazai, it seemed to only come up when Chuuya was involved so far.

With a cheerful grin, Dazai raised his hand in a mocking little wave. "Chuuyaaa, nice to see you again!" he sang out cheerfully, drawing a few scattered laughs from the rest of the class.

Chuuya gave him a sharp glare, seemingly still irritated.

The teacher, Mr. Carter, as the nameplate on his desk suggested, cleared his throat, clearly irritated. Dazai snapped his attention back to him, suddenly emmiting an innocent charm.

"Sorry for my lateness, sir," he said with a smile that managed to be both apologetic and insincere. "it’s my first day, and I was told to come to your English lesson"

Mr. Carter’s annoyed expression faltered. The frown lines on his forehead eased as realisation dawned. "Ah, I see. You must be Osamu Dazai. I was informed of your enrollment." He gestured vaguely with his pen. "You can take the empty seat next to Nakahara."

He pointed to the empty desk beside Chuuya, who immediately looked as though he had been personally betrayed by the universe. A look that could only be described as pure and utter horror was etched onto his face.

Chuuya shot to his feet, hands slamming down on his desk with a loud thud that made some students flinch.

"PLEASE reconsider, sir! I refuse to sit next to this asshole!"

Mr. Carter pinched the bridge of his nose like he was already developing a migraine. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time Chuuya had made a scene.

"Chuuya, please don’t create a scene over this. The seat is the only one available. Dazai is sitting there. Any more interruptions will result in a detention. Is that clear?" His tone left no room for argument, which was obvious to everyone.

The class erupted into quiet chuckles. Chuuyas cheeks were red with fury and embarrassment, he sat down with a frustrated groan, burying his fists in his pockets like a sulky child.

Mr. Carter gave Dazai a weary smile. "Go ahead."

Dazai strolled toward the seat, feeling lighter with every step. For reasons he couldn't fully explain, the idea of sitting beside Chuuya thrilled him. It wasn’t just familiarity. It was something else. Something magnetic.

As he approached, Chuuya glanced at him sharply, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Dazai’s breath caught for a second. Those eyes—one blue, one brown—were striking. Like staring into two worlds at once. Unique. Beautiful.

He took his seat with grace, still basking in the quiet chaos he’d caused. A few girls across the room whispered to each other, giggling behind their hands. One of them even waved. Dazai offered a lazy smile in return, hoping it would put them off. It didn’t. If anything, it made them squeal louder.
Great.

Still, he had more important things to focus on. Like the interesting boy next to him, who was writing with his pencil with almost enough strength to snap it, his knuckles whitening from the intense grip he had on it.

"Oi, Chuuyaaa~" Dazai whispered, dragging his name just enough to annoy him further.

Chuuya froze mid-sentence, pencil tip digging into the page. He didn’t look up, trying his hardest to ignore Dazais efforts,

Dazai smirked. Game on.

He casually ripped a piece of paper from his notebook, crumpled it into a ball, and flicked it at Chuuya’s cheek. It hit with a soft thwack.

Chuuya’s jaw clenched. He slowly turned, eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. The look he gave him was almost comical. Dazai couldn’t stop the giggles that bubbled up in his chest. He buried his face in his arms to stifle the sound, shoulders shaking with laughter.

Several students glanced over with irritation written all over their faces, but they didn't matter.

Once the wave of laughter passed, Dazai peeked up again. Chuuya had turned back to his work, expression blank, ignoring him entirely. Dazai wasn’t having that.

He began to create more paper balls, lining them up like ammo. One after another, they bounced off Chuuya’s arm, his back, even his hair. The redhead tensed visibly but didn’t react.

Not yet, anyway.

His jaw was tight, his eyebrows furrowed, his knuckles pale around his pencil. He looked like a volcano about to blow.

Dazai, the human embodiment of chaos and annoyance, grabbed a pen and launched it. This earned a low, warning growl.

"Fuck. Off. Asshole," Chuuya muttered under his breath. He was nearing his limit

Dazai grinned like it was Christmas morning,

But it wasn’t enough.

Next came a full pencil pencil sharpener, which Dazai for some reason, didn't think twice about before hurling it in Chuuya’s direction.

It hit.

The lid popped off.

Pencil shavings exploded across Chuuya’s desk and hair.

The class gasped, then burst into laughter. Even Mr. Carter looked stunned. But before he could open his mouth—

Chuuya leapt.

He launched himself over the desk, tackling Dazai to the floor with a yell. The two crashed onto the floor together and Dazai erupted into uncontrollable laughter, even as Chuuya straddled him and wrapped his hands around his neck, slamming his head repeatedly into the floor

Students gathered around, phones out, laughing, cheering, recording the fight
Well if you could call it that. It was mostly just Chuuya trying ti strangle Dazai to death whilst Dazai seemed to be....enjoying it..?

Even with Chuuya trying to throttle him, Dazai was having the time of his life, for once he was feeling truly alive. Not even an hour into his first day and he had already found someone who made life feel vibrant again. Who brought a bit of excitement into his boring and meaningless life.

Much to Dazais disappointment, eventually a group of teachers arrived to break it up, dragging a furious Chuuya away as he kicked and screamed to be let go so he could continue his mission of killing Dazai.

Mr. Carter hauled both boys into the hallway, fuming. He gave them both a stern lecture, though most of it was aimed at Chuuya. Still, they were both sentenced to detention for the rest of the week. However Chuuya had the added punishment of spending the rest of the morning in isolation, whilst Dazai was sent to the nurse to be checked for any injuries.

Each boys walked their separate ways, Chuuya muttering curses aimed at Dazai under his breath, whilst Dazai had the biggest grin on his face, a foreign expression to him.

This was the most alive he had felt in his entire life.

Chapter Text

Lunchtime finally came, and with it, Chuuya's long-awaited freedom from the isolation room, a miserable, silent box that felt more like a prison cell than a disciplinary measure. The walls were blank, the desk was bolted to the floor, and the clock ticked so loudly it felt like a countdown to insanity.

The second the door opened, Chuuya bolted like a prisoner on parole. He stormed across the courtyard, the sun momentarily blinding after a whole morning in that godforsaken room. His shoes hit the pavement hard as he made a beeline for the old, familiar bench beneath the sprawling tree at the far edge of campus. It was their unofficial lunch spot—his, Yuan’s, and Shirase’s, a quiet little escape away from the chaos of the other students.

Yuan and Shirase were already there, unwrapping their lunches and chatting quietly. Both of them looked up just in time to see Chuuya launch his backpack down beside the bench with a resounding thud. Without missing a beat, he collapsed into his seat and slammed his forehead against the table, letting out a dramatic, guttural groan.

A few students walking by glanced over, startled.

Shirase and Yuan exchanged a look. A silent one and uneasy one.

They both knew about Chuuya’s outburst that morning. Shirase had been in the classroom when it happened, though seated too far back to catch all the details. The fight had been loud and sudden, which wasnt exactly unknown for Chuuya. No one had spoken to him since, and both of his friends were equally unsure of what to say.

Just as Shirase opened his mouth to cautiously break the silence, Chuuya shot up as if struck by lightning. His entire body practically vibrated with rage.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE HIM!” he roared. “THAT STUPID, LANKY ASSHOLE GOT ME A WEEK OF DETENTION!”

He flailed his arms so wildly that Yuan’s water bottle nearly went flying. Every insult he spat was punctuated by an angry slap against the table, causing trays, utensils to jump.

Shirase and Yuan sat frozen in place, awkward smiles plastered on their faces, imaginary sweat drops practically formed above their heads. Neither dared to interrupt.

Chuuya kept going, throwing out increasingly dramatic insults about the brunette, growing redder and louder by the second until finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slumped back into his seat, unzipped his backpack and pulled out his sandwich, which he began angrily eating before continuing his tirade.

“I mean, you saw it, right, Shirase?” he demanded with a full mouth. “You were there! I shouldnt be the one getting detention! So what if I kicked his ass? He had it coming!”

Shirase scratched the back of his neck, trying and failing to avoid eye contact.

“Well… I mean…” He laughed nervously. “You kinda did pounce on him outta nowhere. You practically strangled him.”

Chuuya’s expression faltered, and for the first time since sitting down, his fury gave way to embarrassment. His face flushed, and he looked down at his sandwich like it might provide a good escape route.

“…Okay, yeah. I guess that does sound kinda bad,” he muttered. “But the bastard was throwing paperballs at me the whole lesson! And to top it all off, he threw a sharpener full of pencil shavings at me! It took me forever to get them out of my hair.."

“That’s… impressive aim,” Yuan said, mostly under his breath, though he earned a swift glare from Chuuya.

“Why does he go out of his way to annoy me? I don’t even know the guy!”

That comment drew a genuine laugh from Shirase and Yuan, finally cutting the tension like a knife through warm butter.

“What is wrong with that new kid, anyway?” Shirase asked after a moment. “You’ve seen the bandages, right? Like… who the hell shows up to school wrapped like a mummy?”

Yuan nodded. “Totally weird. Bet he sleeps in a coffin or something.”

Chuuya frowned, chewing thoughtfully. He already hated Dazai on principle, but even he felt like their words were starting to edge into mean-spirited territory. Still, he didn’t say anything. He just quietly stewed in it.

As if summoned by their conversation, Chuuya caught movement in his peripheral vision. A lanky figure approached across the courtyard, brown hair tousled by the wind and a grin on his face that made Chuuya’s stomach twist, not out of fear, but something more complicated and much more irritating.

Dazai.

Of course.

The smug bastard.

Chuuya’s scowl deepened, but Dazai looked positively delighted by the glare. Shirase and Yuan sighed dramatically, sensing the incoming danger,

“Hey, Chuuya,” Shirase said quickly. “We’re just gonna… yeah. We’ll catch you later.”

Chuuya didn’t even blink, too busy staring Dazai down, as if daring him to come closer, “Sure. Go.”

The two practically sprinted away, not wasting a second, unwilling to be caught in the middle of Chuuyas incoming wrath.

As soon as he arrived at the bench, he immidetly started his antics, “Chuuuyaaa,” he sang, dragging out the name obnoxiously. “How was isolation? Peaceful, I hope."

“It was YOUR fault I was in there, you bastard,” Chuuya snapped, slamming his fist against the table.

Dazai only chuckled, and ,annoyingly, Chuuya found the sound… not unpleasant. That made him scowl even harder.

“But Chuuyaaa, you’re the one who attacked me,” Dazai whined, clutching his chest. “Such a violent little thing.”

Chuuya’s eyebrow twitched so hard it was a miracle it didn’t fly off his face.

“You ARE the reason I snapped! You think this is a game or something? AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN LITTLE THING !?"

Dazai chuckled, casually sliding into the bare space on the other side of the table, sighing dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart as if Chuuya’s aggression had personally wounded him. “So violent. So emotional. Honestly, Chuuya, you should thank me! Being locked in isolation probably saved you from a full-blown meltdown.”

“You ARE the meltdown! Youre such a prick!” Chuuya snapped, voice sharp enough to cut glass.

"Cmon Chuuyaaa, I'm not THAT bad" he smiled gleefully, knowing full well that he was, infact, THAT bad.

“Do you want me to punch you again?”

Dazai gave him a wounded look. “Violence isn't the answer, Chuuyaaaa. Talk it out. Use your words.”

Chuuya abruptly stood up, making the bench shake. “Cocky bastard…” He spat angrily,

Tut tut Chuuya, not those words," he wiggled his index finger mockingly, "you gotta try harder than that!"

Chuuya sat back down with a loud exhale, glaring at him with an intensity that could make anyone shake in their boots, however Dazai remained unphased, even amused,

“Why are you even here?” he asked bitterly

“Can’t a guy check on his favorite classmate?” Dazai asked sweetly.

“No.”

“So cold.”

A moment of silence passed, heavy but not uncomfortable. Dazai leaned back, looking up at the tree branches overhead.

“You’ve got a hell of a punch,” he said softly. “But your aim sucks. You almost hit the teacher.”

Chuuya huffed. “Yeah, well, you were laughing like a damn maniac the whole time. Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying it.”

For a second—just a second—Chuuya thought he saw a hint of color on Dazai’s cheeks.

“Oh, I was enjoying it,” Dazai admitted dramatically, waving his arms. “I was imagining a beautiful woman choking me to death! Then I opened my eyes and saw a ginger leprechaun. You can image my disappointment.." he stuck his hand to his heart again dramatically,

Chuuya grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him forward. “You what?!”

“Careful,” Dazai grinned. “You’re gonna get us both suspended.”

Chuuya shoved him hard enough that Dazai nearly toppled off the bench. Dazai laughed the whole time, adjusting his jacket with flair. Chuuya couldn't help but let out a small chuckle too.

“What a good boy,” he said teasingly. “Following my instructions and everything. I should train you into my pet.”

Chuuya flushed a dangerous shade of red. “You’re disgusting.”

“I know,” Dazai said, voice too pleased with himself. “It’s part of my charm.”

Chuuya stared at him wide wide, judgemental eyes, showing that he clearly disproved of his statement. Dazai pulled a playful offended face.

“Right then... I’d better go before you get into a violent episode again. Let’s not traumatize any more students.” he winked playfully,

“Don’t tempt me,” Chuuya muttered.

Dazai smirked and walked away, whistling some annoyingly cheerful tune.

Chuuya watched him go, eyes narrowed. There was something about that guy, something he couldn’t pin down. He was irritating, smug, unpredictable… and for reasons Chuuya refused to admit, intriguing.

He usually had a good read on people. He could sniff out fakes, liars, and threats from a mile away. But Dazai?

Dazai was a mystery.