Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

ACT I - CHUUYA

The room is drenched in silence in the wake of Dazai’s announcement, the lazy morning air turned stiff and stale as they sit there, staring at each other. 

Chuuya can practically hear the words echoing in the small dorm room, feels them creeping across the chill morning air, floating between his and Dazai’s beds, filling every inch of space with the odd yet terribly ominous news and probably spreading it’s treacherous piece of information even into their tiny shared bathroom, tainting everything in its wake.

Chuuya can only blink at him, brain churning the previous words in complete silence until Dazai seems to feel the need to stress his meaning.

“It’s fake” Dazai assures him, sitting with his legs crossed on his unmade bed “Totally, completely, absolutely just a pretend thing”

He’s still just wearing a T-shirt and boxers, the bandages along his arms and peeking out above his collar slightly loosened from sleeping in them and his hair is still a fluffy mess from sleep. With the way he’s sitting folded in on himself like this, Chuuya thinks Dazai looks small and hesitant. 

It’s an odd sight.

From his perch on his own bed, Chuuya stares at his roommate’s uncharacteristically earnest expression and wonders why Dazai sounds so desperate to convey this to him.

He’s treating it like a very serious matter, like he can’t quite impress upon Chuuya just how important it is that he fully understands how completely disingenuous the whole thing is.

Chuuya also wonders what he even has to do with it at all, because this shouldn’t be any of his business.

Truthfully though, Dazai’s reassurance does somewhat settle the cold empty feeling that’s been steadily brewing in Chuuya’s stomach for the past few minutes, but Dazai shouldn’t know that there’s anything to settle, because Chuuya shouldn’t be feeling much of anything about this and Dazai certainly shouldn’t know that he is.

So Chuuya just keeps quiet, digesting it in silence as he slowly blinks at Dazai across from him and hopes some of his discomfort can pass for confusion.

Dazai huffs an annoyed breath at his lack of answer, wrinkling his nose in impatience and the soft sunlight catches in his face just right and he is so beautiful, with his stupid silly pout and well, Chuuya can’t even hold the denial in place for half a second apparently.

So alright, Dazai is in a fake relationship and maybe Chuuya does care.

Dazai tsks, like if he disapproves of the silence loudly enough Chuuya will be forced to break it, but Chuuya just frowns harder and keeps staring.

Dazai, in a fake relationship.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Dazai snaps, breaking the silence first.

Dazai, in a fake relationship and trying to make sure Chuuya is okay with it.

And Chuuya just blinks at him dumbly from across the room, brain latching onto meaningless details to distract himself from the main topic at hand as he tries to curb the nausea brewing in his stomach - like how Dazai’s hair curls a bit more on the right side, meaning he was sleeping on his left, or how the fuzzy socks he has on today have a silly polkadot pattern.

The room is still only half lit up in the foggy morning, Chuuya’s plants seem to be holding up well since they switched their positions around the room, the book on Dazai’s bedside table is different from yesterday’s, Dazai is in a fake relationship.

All meaningless small details of his day so far.

Dazai, in a fake relationship.

Chuuya should be okay with it. It sounds stupid and ridiculous, but Chuuya doesn’t have any objection he’s really allowed to make, so he swallows down his discomfort and shrugs.

“I mean, what’s there to say?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow at his empty tone and his face starts running through a hundred calculations on what Chuuya might be hiding here. Which is just rich, coming from fake-relationship-boy over there.

Because Dazai loves a scheme and Dazai is always courting trouble, but Chuuya can’t tell what his angle is here, what exactly could have led him to do something like this.

It sure sounds like a cry for help.

And crying for help in roundabout ways is much more like Dazai than directly asking for it, so Chuuya’s eyebrows twitch in concern as he shoots him a sharper look.

“Is he making you do this?” Chuuya decides to check, foregoing beating around the bush to try and catch a glimpse of a genuine reaction.

“What? No!” Dazai pauses, taken aback before he snorts “I mean, you know… It’s Fyodor, he doesn’t exactly ask politely, so there might have been some veiled threats and general dramatics, but he’s not making me do it”

Chuuya pauses, watches the way Dazai’s eyes soften slightly as he explains. His fingers fidget with the raw edges of his bandages over his palms and he glances down at them briefly, averting Chuuya’s gaze. 

It all still feels distinctly suspicious and Chuuya can tell he hasn’t gotten the full story quite yet.

“So you’re what?” he presses “Doing this out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I’m helping him” Dazai corrects, lifting his chin in that insufferable superior way he does.

Chuuya scoffs.

Dazai, helping Fyodor Dostoyevsky, just because he feels like it.

Yeah fucking right.

He doesn’t ask again though, simply narrowing his eyes and glaring until Dazai’s nose wrinkles, face twisting in aggravation.

“It’s an equal exchange” he concedes, throwing his hands up as he breaks first “He promised me something too, it’s fine”

And it’s not like Dazai doesn’t ever help his friends, Chuuya knows him well enough to know that, but a fake relationship is a weird favor to ask and it’s Fyodor.

Additionally, Chuuya takes notice of the fact that Dazai very pointedly did not clarify what Fyodor promised him exactly, but he carefully tucks that into his brain for later inspection because he’s currently too busy trying to act normal about this.

Not that any of this is even remotely normal in the first place, but alright.

Unbothered, Chuuya can do unbothered.

Chuuya can not give a fuck about Dazai’s little fake relationship stunt all day.

“Good for you then, I guess?” Chuuya tells him, shrugging in what he hopes comes out as annoyance more so than exasperation.

Dazai’s eyes narrow.

“Not good for me, Chuuya” he hisses, tone taking a turn into anger now for whatever reason “It’s not real, no need to congratulate me or whatever it is you’re doing”

The way he gestures in Chuuya’s general direction like the display of supportiveness is repulsive stings a bit, but not nearly as much as his tone does.

The bitterness there, the way his voice catches around the word real.

Like he’d actually want it, and fuck, the thought of it stings worse, Dazai sitting there daydreaming about an actual relationship, the thought of him graciously accepting Chuuya’s congratulations on it had it been for something genuine.

Dazai actually dating Fyodor.

The whole thing is bullshit though and, Chuuya reminds himself, very much fake.

“What do you even want me to say here?” Chuuya asks him, very keen on getting this conversation over with so he can start working on forgetting it ever happened.

“I don’t know, anything!” Dazai throws his hands up, like Chuuya’s refusal to engage is somehow inconveniencing him “Just don’t fucking congratulate me on it”

Chuuya snorts, lips twitching upwards as he rolls his eyes at the theatrics. He doesn’t want to admit it, but the way Dazai’s nose wrinkles in distaste eases some of the burning in his stomach.

It’s a familiar sight.

It’s fucking cute.

Chuuya forces himself to frown again. Dazai is such an asshole.

“I mean, why are you even telling me this?” Chuuya asks, more as a misdirection so he can avoid being pushed for his opinions and fucking feelings on the matter.

And Dazai frowns, like the question caught him off guard for once.

Truth is, Chuuya is actually exhausted. He slept weirdly last night, which he now wonders if it had been his body’s way of delaying the morning and the nonsensical fucking conversation he didn’t know would come with it, but alas, it just left him sleep deprived and even less prepared to deal with this bullshit then he could have been.

So Chuuya is just painfully sleepy and the weather is just starting to turn enough that he could have forgiven himself for pretending to fall for Dazai tricking him into snuggling for warmth for a bit. He was quite literally planning on giving in had the bastard asked him today. 

He could have even gotten a nap out of it. Really, he would probably have even been willing to be a bit late to class just to indulge himself. He had plans for a cozy fucking morning and Dazai wouldn’t even have had to work for it much this time because Chuuya is just so fucking sleepy.

But that was all before Dazai’s fake relationship announcement woke him up with a slap in the face.

Now, Dazai shrugs, frown melting off his face as he snaps out of whatever inner debate he’d been on and schools his face into utter blankness.

Wonderful, Chuuya’s not getting an honest answer then.

“People tell their roommates when they start a relationship, Chuuya” he deadpans, like it’s obvious, like Chuuya is the one being stupid “It’s common courtesy”

Chuuya scoffs. 

There’s nothing common or courteous about Dazai. He’s the most unique nuisance ever created, to the point where Chuuya sometimes suspects Dazai was crafted by the universe to aggravate him specifically. His own custom made little nightmare.

But this isn’t just Dazai’s regular level of being a nuisance. No, there’s something much much worse about the implication that is setting Chuuya’s nerves ablaze.

And he has to force himself to bite back the indignant screams clawing up his throat, because yes, people do tell their roommates when they start a relationship and it is common courtesy, but that’s so they can prepare to have an unofficial third roommate constantly around or brace themselves to be sexiled. 

Neither of which should be a problem here, unless Dazai is taking back his little it’s fake, totally completely absolutely fake speech.

Because unless Dazai plans on actually fucking his fake boyfriend, unless he plans on doing something real with Fyodor - the mere thought of which already has Chuuya’s stomach anxiously convulsing bad enough that he has to take a few deep steadying breaths, because no - then there’s no problem and actually no need to warn Chuuya about it.

And thank fuck for that, because while Chuuya can handle fake, even if he’s not totally alright with it, he’s not entirely sure he’d survive Dazai and Fyodor actually being together.

He’s being totally normal about this though. He’s taking it like a champ.

The whole thing is fine.

Chuuya is nailing this unbothered thing, his mind is at goddamn peace.

“You said” he hisses, the sound dragging out of him through gritted teeth almost painfully “It was fake”

And yes, maybe Chuuya isn’t allowed to be mad. Maybe he’s not entitled to it, but then again, Dazai won’t fucking drop the subject, so sure, they can talk about it.

Dazai arches an eyebrow, he doesn’t seem to follow.

“It is” he repeats.

He looks a little lost and Chuuya’s mind unhelpfully suggest that maybe Dazai sounds insecure because he’s trying to convince himself and Chuuya is just a bystander in this whole exchange.

Maybe, this is just Dazai bouncing the idea around himself and Chuuya is just simply there to see it happen. 

Maybe this is Dazai convincing himself that this is fine under the guise of convincing Chuuya.

Maybe he’s insecure here because he’s not being able to sell even himself into this bullshit.

Maybe he’s insecure because he wants to actually date Fyodor.

“If it is fake” Chuuya can hear the venom slipping into his voice, but it’s mostly an accident. He thinks Dazai might read it as annoyance though, so he can probably get away with it “Then you didn’t need to tell me, right?”

He hopes Dazai catches on to the point of the question, because there’s no common courtesy here. There’s no need to warn him unless there will be sexiling and room sharing and if it’s fake, there won’t be, which means there’s no actual reason for Chuuya to be hearing anything about it.

Right?

“Right?!”

Chuuya snaps his mouth shut, jaw clenching as he tries to breathe around the mortification and Dazai’s eyes widen slightly, but he’s quick to regain his composure, waving away the discomfort in a dismissive little gesture, like Chuuya is just being unreasonable.

“I’m just trying to have a conversation here” Dazai says, like it’s no big deal, like his voice hadn’t carried a bit too much emotion while trying to convince Chuuya of how absolutely fake the whole thing is, like Chuuya will forget about it if he packs enough pretend whining into his tone now “Besides, you’re my roommate, keeping this from you would require so much more effort”

And it’s just so like him to explain away his reasoning through laziness that Chuuya isn’t even surprised by it. Doesn’t mean he buys it for a second though.

So Chuuya just snorts, making it clear he doesn’t believe Dazai’s excuses and watches as Dazai crosses his arms and straightens his back in response, gearing up like he’s done playing nice and will now go on the offensive.

He always gets this annoying fucking look in his eyes when he does that. So fucking cold and empty. Chuuya hates it.

Which, great. The conversation had been just so very comfortable on Chuuya’s end so far, what’s an added layer of Dazai now being an ass on purpose?

“I figured you’d appreciate the honesty for once” Dazai says, like an ass, raising his eyebrow in a challenge “Or would you have rather I lied?”

And at that, Chuuya freezes.

All of his senses seem to sharpen for a second, and he can feel the temperature of the room around him, the texture of the blanket on the bed that he’s sitting on, he can feel the way his chest expands with every breath he takes.

There’s the glaring concern, which feels a lot like panic, that maybe Dazai does know, that maybe he knows exactly why the thought of him lying about this particular issue would hurt Chuuya.

Chuuya worries, and it feels a whole lot like panic, that maybe Dazai knows and maybe he said it like that to hurt Chuuya’s feelings.

Because it’s hard not to read five layers of intent and three more hidden meanings in all of Dazai’s words, but Chuuya tries to calm down and listen, telling himself that if Dazai knew then he wouldn’t have said it like that.

Because Chuuya doesn’t want Dazai to know - and yes, the thought that maybe he does sends Chuuya spiraling into panic - but he also knows that if Dazai knew, he would never use it against him.

So the mere fact that that’s what it sounds like already nullifies the entire possibility of Dazai knowing at all, because Dazai would probably be a bit of a bitch about it, but Chuuya trusts that if Dazai ever found out, he wouldn’t make fun of Chuuya for his feelings.

So Dazai’s probably just getting at Chuuya’s general insistence on honesty, rather than dramatically revealing to have known about Chuuya’s feelings all along, so he tries not to panic too much about whether or not Dazai knows and focuses on the actual question instead, pondering on it.

Would he have rather Dazai lied?

And Chuuya’s stomach sinks, because fuck no. 

He would not have preferred that.

In fact, just the thought of not being included on this charade - of perhaps finding out about it by stumbling onto them in the middle of campus, of witnessing Dazai in Fyodor’s arms and having to wonder - is already making him nauseous.

No, he decides, he’s very glad Dazai told him.

The sight will still inevitably turn his stomach, but at least when that happens he’ll be able to desperately cling to the fact that it’s supposed to be fake.

Which still doesn’t explain why Dazai agreed to it, but whatever. It’s Dazai and Fyodor, Chuuya stopped trying to follow their convoluted schemes a long time ago.

This isn’t that different from a bet, he supposes.

It’s a game of chicken, of sorts, much like how it is with all fake relationships plots. A game of how long can we pretend to be in love before one of us breaks and confesses for real?

And oh.

His stomach sinks further, his heart hiccups. 

He really hopes it’s not that.

Ignoring Dazai’s question and the bile biting at his throat, Chuuya chooses to go on a different direction.

“Why you though?”

And Dazai scoffs, like it’s obvious.

“Because of my delightful personality and dashing good looks” he says, tone so sickly sweet around a smile so bright it wraps all the way around to sarcastic “Even silly chibis should know that much”

And he says it like a joke.

Like that’s not actually true.

Like he doesn’t currently look like a fucking work of art sitting in an old T-shirt and boxers in an unmade bed, illuminated by the low morning light.

Chuuya wants to kill him.

Chuuya wants to claw his own disgustingly fluttering little heart out and throw it at Dazai’s pretty face.

Instead, they stare. 

The silence lingers, long and dragging and stretching until Dazai accepts that Chuuya will wait out his antics until he gets an actual answer.

Dazai’s smile falls then and his eyes snap away from Chuuya’s and back again, just for a second, but just long enough for Chuuya to feel his hesitation.

And that’s not good, because he’s been throwing out deranged bits of information all morning, so the pause here hints at something Chuuya will take even worse.

Which great, just fucking great.

“Fedya said…” Dazai starts, like he’s picking his words carefully, and the nickname doesn’t sting, Chuuya’s blood doesn’t boil “He said it wouldn’t be believable unless it’s someone he hates at least a bit” 

Dazai lets the words linger, cringing slightly when Chuuya’s only reaction is to stare at him blankly and wait for him to go on. Chuuya doesn’t even bother to try and interpret shit yet, because surely, surely, that’s not all that he was pissing his pants to say.

“You know” Dazai continues, and his eyes are amused, but his head is tilted to the side in a clear sort of cringe as he gestures vaguely and tiptoes around the words. There’s a choked chuckle and when he talks next, his lips wrap around the words slowly, like he’s quoting “competitively heightened sexual tension just waiting to happen”

And okay, sure. That sounds like Fyodor, even if it must have killed him to admit to it. 

Chuuya can’t even imagine what it must have taken for Fyodor Dostoyevsky to force himself through the humiliating defeat of admitting something like that to Dazai, which - 

Wait.

No.

Hold on.

No.

Wait a fucking minute.

“He admitted he’s attracted to you!?” Chuuya doesn’t shriek, his voice doesn’t crack, his breath doesn’t waver.

Fyodor didn’t confess.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky did not admit to being interested in Dazai.

There is no way Fyodor made a move before Chuuya. 

No fucking way.

“What!? No!” Dazai all but yells, standing up with his hands raised like he’s approaching a startled animal, like he needs Chuuya to understand this.

Like Fyodor didn’t admit to anything, just explained the request in a somewhat desperate manner that can be misconstructed, like Dazai is just misusing his words in the effort to make Chuuya understand, too.

Like that’s not what this is.

Like this is all fine and fake and it’s just a fake relationship.

And Chuuya already wasn’t buying this act before, but now he’s sure it’s bullshit, because there’s no way Fyodor didn’t mean it and there’s no way Dazai doesn’t care that he did.

This shit isn’t fake. It isn’t fake at all.

This is just two assholes manipulating each other into dating for real.

This is fucking bullshit.

Not that Chuuya cares. He doesn’t care at all.

Chuuya is fine.

There’s nothing like desperation or panic coursing through him right now. Not at all.

Dazai moves to stand in front of him between their beds in their shared room, and his eyes are wide and slightly frantic, like he’s pondering how exactly this conversation managed to unravel into every single wrong twist and turn that got them here.

Like Chuuya is making this difficult.

And Chuuya can read it in his face, the exasperation, but he’s never been one to back down.

Because really, what does Dazai have to be freaking out about here?

He’s the one making the choices and delivering the news.

He’s not the one having his heart ripped out and shit.

The one swimming in unwarranted bitterness here is Chuuya.

And yes, it’s really fucking unwarranted, because Dazai isn’t technically doing anything wrong, but Chuuya has a temper and Chuuya isn’t always the most logical fucking person, specially when he’s drowning in an onslaught of hurt feelings so fucking sue him.

He scoffs, loud and bitter. 

Like he has a right, like he can be upset, like Dazai’s stupid fake relationship has anything to do with him.

There’s an angry brand of annoyance brewing inside him, threatening to combust into an outburst and Dazai must sense it, because his jaw sets and his eyes narrow.

And just like that Dazai has had enough. Chuuya can feel the change in the air as Dazai snaps into a challenge.

“Why are you being like this? I’m making a real fucking effort to communicate here, why do you have to be so difficult?” he demands, eyes still dark and narrowed as he runs a hand through his stupidly soft messy hair “What’s your problem here exactly, huh, Chuuya?”

And Chuuya’s mouth snaps shut, because if there’s one thing he can’t fucking do is say what his actual problem here is, because that would mean admitting why there’s a problem in the first place.

And what’s he supposed to do?

Say that he’s jealous? That this is hurting his stupid ass feelings?

Dazai tilts his chin up in Chuuya’s direction, eyes challenging and demanding.

“Just fucking say it” he asks, and it’s a weird fucking tone amidst the outburst because he’s just asking.

But Chuuya can’t. He really fucking can’t. Specially not now.

“It’s just a stupid ass thing to do!” Chuuya yells instead, because it’s just dumb and way too convoluted and someone will definitely end up hurt and it’s probably going to be Chuuya, which is fine, but with the way he’s talking and how up in arms he is about it, it could very well end up being Dazai and that’s not fine and this is just a stupid ass fucking thing to do “What’s even the point of it!?”

“I told you” Dazai groans, aggravated “I’m helping him out because Fyodor likes someone”

“Yeah, you!” Chuuya bites out and then immediately regrets it.

The tension snaps and suddenly their room is very, very quiet.

He can hear the faint rustle of his plants with the breeze from the open window. He can hear his own somewhat quickened breaths. He can hear a fucking bird chirping outside.

“No, not me” Dazai eventually says with a very steady, slow voice from where he froze up at Chuuya’s outburst “Fyodor doesn’t like me”

Chuuya is too embarrassed to talk, but he does snort in response. Loudly.

“Chuuya” Dazai starts, slow and steady, like he’s explaining something very obvious to a very small child “Fyodor doesn’t like me”

Which is a stupid thing to say, first and foremost, because Chuuya knows a thing or too about liking Dazai. Hell, he’s the local expert! And as someone who knows what liking Dazai is like, he can attest to the fact that Fyodor very much fucking does so, actually.

And not even in a terribly subtle way either, because despite their constant insistence of being enemies, the way Dazai and Fyodor behave around each other is much closer to that of best friends. 

And that isn’t even the most aggravating part of that blatantly false sentence either, because there’s something in Dazai’s tone, a bitterness in how he said it, voice catching in the last words like the thought itself is insulting, that is ripping through Chuuya’s sanity.

Because he can’t quite decide if the audible layer of upset in Dazai’s tone has more to do with Fyodor not liking him or with the thought of being liked at all, but either way, it’s just such bullshit.

It makes Chuuya’s blood actually boil.

It makes him want to punch him and then kiss his stupid face and also maybe push him out the window because fuck.

Dazai is impossible.

Whatever he’s made of, whatever stars aligned to create the insufferable mess that is his roommate, Chuuya knows they’re destined, cursed, bound even, because there’s no way Dazai’s purpose in life is anything other than to make Chuuya’s earthly experience fucking unbearable.

Because what the fuck is he supposed to do here? Drop the subject at hand so he can divert into convincing Dazai that’s he’s an incredible goddamn human being? Just compliment him into insanity? Just hold him close and wash him in praise and convince him that’s he’s worthy and wonderful and the best most annoying fucking thing that’s ever happened to Chuuya?

Because fuck that. He can’t just fucking do it.

And he specially can’t just fucking do it when the subject at hand here is the fact that he’s about to start dating Fyodor.

Fake dating. 

Whichever.

So he just lets the anger settle inside him and accepts that this is not a fight he’s allowed to pick. This is not a battle he has any right to want to win.

This has nothing to do with him, and Chuuya doesn’t get a say in this, so there’s no point in dragging it out like torture.

No.

Fuck this.

Chuuya mentally clenches his teeth into letting it go and then physically shrugs.

“Whatever, Dazai” he says, voice so empty that it’s almost funny when Dazai winces “You’re free to do stupid shit”

“Chuuya - ” Dazai starts, sighing, but Chuuya just cuts him off.

“No, you’re right” he says, squaring his shoulders as he wills himself to just let it go “This has nothing to do with me, I don’t know why I bother giving a fuck”

Chuuya will just ignore it, it’s fine.

He stands up, bitterly grabbing his bag from the floor where he’d dropped it when Dazai first started his announcement, and then heading straight for the door.

“I’m late for class” he says, even though it’s an obvious lie, because it’s early. 

Because Dazai woke him up early for this tragic conversation.

Dazai woke him up early and then fidgeted anxiously as he waited for Chuuya to get ready for the day. 

He had even made Chuuya a cup of coffee that he didn’t drink, which is fine because he’s now sure it would taste too much like betrayal.

A coffee which now sits abandoned on Chuuya’s bedside table, where he left it when Dazai had asked him to sit, to wait, because he needed to tell him something.

And the desolate sight of that abandoned cup of coffee shouldn’t be tearing Chuuya’s heart to pieces, but it is, because Dazai made an effort, he tried at something for once and it had all been to tell Chuuya he’s going to be fake dating Fyodor.

As one does, Chuuya fucking guesses.

So he ignores the coffee and hopes Dazai will ignore the lie. It’s simply the fastest excuse to leave that Chuuya can come up with.

And he can’t even bother trying to come up with anything better, not when Dazai will obviously see through it as the flimsy excuse to run away that it actually is.

But still, Chuuya hopes he will at least ignore it and in exchange Chuuya will ignore Dazai’s aggravated expression and the kicked puppy look he catches in his stupidly pretty brown eyes.

Truly, Chuuya is hoping he can ignore this entire train wreck of a conversation, but most of all, he is hoping Dazai will ignore Chuuya’s reaction to it, because he knows he’s being unreasonable.

He doesn’t have a reason to react like this, definitely not one Dazai knows about and he knows he’s butting in unwanted, but Dazai might get hurt in all this and it’s so fucking stupid.

So he leaves, runs away from it, slamming the door shut on his way out and trying to wipe the whole morning from his memory.

Even if Dazai’s desolate expression as he watched Chuuya leave fucking clings to him.

Dazai and Chuuya actually first met in high school. 

They were fifteen and stupid in that way you can only be at fifteen and they viscerally hated each other right away.

Hatred at first sight, just like that.

They were, originally, lab partners in Hirotsu-sensei’s biology class and they handed in a masterpiece of a final project that was essentially a super villain’s idea of a first grader’s science fair volcano.

The thing had actually exploded, as in, firefighters had to be called type of exploded, effective and devastatingly powerful and it had taken almost half a wall with it. 

Hirotsu-sensei wasn’t quite delighted, but he’d said it had been an admirable show of power and that they worked well together. They got an A+ and a month of detention out of it.

And that could have been the end of it, they could have probably disappeared from each others’ spaces after that.

And yet, once that month was over and their forcefully assigned time of companionship had been completed, they still continued to find more and more ridiculous ways to aggravate one another.

There was no real reason they had to interact and no matter how Chuuya looked back at it now, the magnetic pull at the pit of his stomach he had considered to be hatred at the height of his fifteen year old wisdom was not actually a real reason.

No, he’s older and wiser now and he knows better.

He never outright asked Dazai why he had kept coming back too, but in his more delusional days of hoping, he can trick himself into thinking it had been motivated by similar things.

Maybe, just maybe, Dazai had once felt the same.

But that is a thought he saves for days of delusion.

Back in high school though, Chuuya had been new at the school, transferred mid semester and the fateful volcano project had been one of the very first assignments he got to work on. So he convinced himself that Dazai having been one of the first people he met at the new school was probably the reason why he spent most of his time with the asshole despite the glaring lack of overlap in their friend groups. 

And Dazai had been busy too, always squeezing by Chuuya’s locker to drop insults on his way to debate or drama or whatever other ten clubs he was a part of at the same time, which means there was an effort on both parts, a willfulness to let the gravitational pull between them actually bring them together.

And hatred is not enough of a reason to go out of your way to spend time with someone, no matter how much fifteen year old Chuuya would beg to differ.

No, Chuuya knows better now.

And hatred was not enough of a reason to follow each other into the same University too, no matter how much they disguised it as trying to one up one another.

Because Chuuya just had to prove he could get in anywhere Dazai could, and Dazai insisted that he was simply smarter and therefore didn’t need to cheat to prove that Chuuya would fail. 

Dazai tutored him.

Dazai fucking tutored him so they’d both be here now.

And he was only desperate to get in so he could prove Dazai wrong. That was all.

And if they ended up requesting to room together, that was only because Dazai hates strangers in his space and Chuuya owed him for the tutoring and they had gotten used to spending time together after all that tutoring anyway.

It had nothing to do with wanting to spend even more time together.

Not at all.

In fact, they made such a point of how much they hated spending time together and just one another in general, that their first year living together turned into an on and off prank war that barely left Chuuya with enough time to study.

But at least it was familiar, spending time with the bastard, trying to drive each other insane.

And wasn’t the place you live, wasn’t home, supposed to be familiar?

At least, amidst all the newness of their first year in college, it felt like some things hadn’t changed.

At least Dazai was still the same piece of shit.

At least Dazai was still around him.

And eventually even the prank wars ended. It was an effort that involved their entire dorm floor and more than half the building, but a truce was eventually made. 

The last drop had been an incident involving Chuuya’s bleached hair, Dazai’s insistence that he would never had done that on purpose and an argument that almost ended in the cops being called to campus over their yelling.

It was probably the height of their dramatics and an event that lives on in campus history, but Chuuya would honestly never forget Dazai’s fingers twitching in hesitation as if he didn’t know whether he was allowed to reach out and comfort him, because that was the moment he realized that was something he’d want from him.

Comfort, from Dazai fucking Osamu.

And if he’s honest, Chuuya never really believed Dazai had done it.

If for no other reason, because Dazai had looked far more devastated by the ruined hair than Chuuya himself had felt and Chuuya can’t bring himself to doubt the way Dazai’s face screamed of mourning when he caught sight of it.

If anything, someone at their dorm probably snapped and decided that if they could trick them into thinking they’d gone too far maybe it would all finally stop.

So yes, if Chuuya’s honest, he knows Dazai wasn’t to blame.

If he’s honest and a little bit petty though, he’d say Fyodor did it. And there’s evidence pointing to it too, because Fyodor’s roommate has bleached hair, which means he had the means and they could have worked together and the prank war’s length and lack of regard for collateral damage would have been enough motive to tempt people far nicer than Fyodor.

But maybe that’s just Chuuya being petty.

Regardless, that was the very last straw in that particular chapter of Dazai and Chuuya’s history and a truce had been established between sobbed out accusations and two people too stubborn to admit they were terrified of losing one another.

It had also been the start of a new chapter in their twisted little history, because they had been so tired from the constant vigilance and so unwilling to stop reassuring one another that it was truly over that they had fallen asleep piled into Dazai’s bed mid apologies.

But that’s just what happens when you spend a full year driven by nothing but malicious compliance and vindictive mischief, so it meant nothing.

And it was fine, because things had gotten much, much better.

And him and Dazai had, slowly but surely, actually built a home after that.

Trapped in the promise of behaving - one made not only to each other but to basically every other friend they had made until then - they were forced into staying civil and their room steadily became a safe space, their own cozy little bubble.

And Chuuya can’t deny that he loves it.

He loves the soft tones that decorate its maximalist interior and how that is less a decor choice and more a result of them both being borderline hoarders. He loves their collection of weird mismatched mugs and Dazai’s well worn books that are piled up everywhere. He loves his plants and the way Dazai had helped him hang them up in hooks from the ceiling because he insisted that Chuuya wasn’t tall enough to handle it on his own.

He likes the fluffy blankets they pretend aren’t thick enough for the winter whenever Chuuya feels like sneaking across the room to huddle with Dazai on his bed and the way Dazai makes fun of him for it in the same breath as he moves to make room for him.

Huddle for warmth with a so called cold fish, sure, Chuuya.

And he likes that Dazai doesn’t even bother making excuses when he’s the one who feels like cuddling and just slumps against Chuuya without a word of warning instead.

He even likes their first aid kit filled with bandages stuck under the bathroom counter, as much as he also hates it. 

He had hated the way his fingers had trembled the first time they’d had to use it in college, hated that he had hoped Dazai would have been able to leave the bandages behind in high school. Hated that his mind couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened had he gotten home later that day. Hated that it hurt so much, that Dazai still hurt. 

But he liked that he could help somehow and that they had the first aid kit in order to help with it and he had liked the way Dazai had tenderly kissed his unsteady fingers back then in a silent thank you, the way those same fingers had traced Dazai’s face, careful and steady, up until he could finally see a glimpse of emotion back in his eyes.

And he liked the small smile Dazai gave him then. He remembers wanting to kiss it, even if it clearly wasn’t the right time.

So all in all, Chuuya likes their room. He likes his home.

And as much as he likes to pretend he doesn’t actually like shitty Dazai, he can’t bring himself to pretend that he doesn’t like being around him.

Because somehow, through it all, Dazai has grown to be his home and his comfort.

And Chuuya likes his home.

Which is why it is so annoying to be avoiding it, even if it’s technically not a big deal, and can actually barely qualify as avoiding it, because people go straight from class to work without stopping by their room first, it’s normal.

Except that Chuuya doesn’t, because he likes his fucking room.

But Chuuya is, in fact, avoiding it.

And for reasons he can’t even bring himself to really explain without sounding like a pathetic little shit to his own brain, so he’s instead hoping that no one will notice or ask him about it.

Which wouldn’t even be a concern if his coworkers - or friends or whatever - weren’t so fucking observant, but Chuuya has no such luck and he continues to be constantly surrounded by people who are annoying as fuck and his coworkers at the Moby Dick coffee shop are no exception, so he really should have known better.

“Why are you avoiding your room?” Akutagawa asks. 

They’re the very first words out of his mouth once his shift starts and he joins them behind the counter, yellow apron tied neatly around his waist.

And Chuuya just groans, tapping the order on the screen in front of him with a bit more force than necessary.

“I’m not” he grumbles, shooting the customer in front of him a glance, but the kid is too distracted by his phone to care about the chatting employees.

Which is a good thing, because Tachihara continues to have no retail persona whatsoever.

“Bro is in a shit mood” he calls from the other end of the long counter, where he’s pressing the lid on an iced coffee “And refuses to talk about it”

Akutagawa snorts, messing with the blenders Lucy left drying at the end of her shift and bringing them back to their bases.

Chuuya hands phone-kid his receipt and waits until he is out of earshot to turn towards Tachihara.

“Me not talking to you is just because I don’t like you” he hisses and again, Akutagawa snorts “Not because I have something to hide”

Tachihara points an angry finger at him over the order he’s working on.

“See, shit fucking mood” he presses the fingers he was waving around over the bandaid on his nose now, like he needs to take a deep breath to steady himself after Chuuya’s words. Like a drama queen “And a lying mood too! I’m a mother fucking delight and you love me”

“Now who is in a lying mood?” Akutagawa calls, dragging an offended scoff out of Tachihara.

Chuuya snickers as he greets the next person in line with his trademark customer service smile, punching in a bland order with as few exchanged words as possible.

When he hands Akutagawa the cup with the person’s name on it though, Akutagawa’s hand curls around his wrist and holds him back for a second.

“Do you actually not want to talk about it?” he asks, leveling Chuuya with a serious look.

“Nothing to talk about” Chuuya shrugs.

“If you say so”  Akutagawa hums, grey eyes still searching, but he eventually nods and steps back.

His wrist gets released wordlessly and Chuuya sighs in appreciation of Akutagawa’s unwavering respect of boundaries.

And this is why Akutagawa is his favorite. 

Sure, he was lying before and Tachihara truly is a mother fucking delight or whatever, but Chuuya appreciates a friend who knows when he needs to not talk about something.

With a deep breath, Chuuya settles in to deal with the last of the post lunch rush, almost mechanically handling all the sleep deprived students getting their coffee fix before afternoon classes start.

It’s an easier shift than the one before morning classes and Chuuya is very grateful not to have to work that one, but it’s still a bit dull to get through.

Polite smile, punch in the order, hand Akutagawa the cup, polite smile.

Like this, they brave the temporary burst of movement and by the time the last of the afternoon students leaves the counter, Chuuya’s mind has been pleasantly numbed.

It doesn’t last of course, because with the lull in business comes more talking.

“Don’t indulge his bullshit” Tachihara slaps Akutagawa’s arm lightly, not even waiting until the last of the costumers is even out of sight. 

He receives an Akutagawa signature death glare as a response, but it does nothing to slow him down.

“What are friends for if not talking?” Tachihara complains again.

Chuuya rolls his eyes, but comes to lean against the sink with the others without much reluctance.

“Nothing to talk about” he repeats.

And Akutagawa, who Chuuya had just mentally thanked for knowing when he needs to not talk about shit, is the one to bring it back up now. The traitor.

“Your backpack is in the back though” he at least sounds apologetic, like he doesn’t want to force Chuuya’s hand, but the evidence is simply too glaring.

Chuuya throws his hands up in annoyance.

“God forbid a guy doesn’t stop home after class” he deadpans.

Akutagawa lets out a snorty laugh, but Tachihara leans away from the sink counter, bending closer to mock whisper.

“Cmon, Chuuya” he pleads “What did Dazai do now? You can tell us”

Chuuya pushes his face away, pressing his fingers on the bandaid over Tachihara’s nose and relishing in the little hiss he lets out at it.

“Dazai didn’t do shit” he whisper-yells back “I just woke up in a bad mood, fuck off about it”

“Yeah, woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?” Tachihara teases, unimpressed.

“God forbid gay people do anything” Akutagawa pipes up from Chuuya’s other side and Tachihara laughs far louder than was really called for.

Which is stupid and uncalled for, because maybe he did just wake up in a bad mood. Maybe he’s just being a bitch for no reason.

God fucking forbid gay people do anything.

Chuuya snorts, but a costumer walks in then, so he takes it as a chance to slip away from the conversation.

Polite smile, punch order, hand Akutagawa the cup.

It isn’t a long reprieve, and soon enough he’s leaning back against the sink again as Tachihara finishes up with the whipped cream and hands over the order.

“You don’t have to tell us everything” he continues, as if there hadn’t been any interruption at all “Just like, talk around it enough that we can help”

As if Chuuya is required to tell them anything. Entitled little shit.

Chuuya thinks about it, about distilling the topic of his worries into a shape that he could handle voicing, about asking for advice and opinions, but honestly, he’s not sure where to even start.

“What’s with the therapist act today?” Chuuya asks instead, crossing his arms over his apron “You’re being specially annoying”

“It’s cus you’re in a specially shitty mood” Tachihara gestures vaguely to what ends up being all of Chuuya “You just look like you need it”

Chuuya snorts, eyeing the door and silently praying for another interruption, for some more movement for once.

“To be fair” Akutagawa starts and it sounds like he’s agreeing with Tachihara, the traitor “Your mood does seem particularly shitty”

Chuuya wants to kick him and tell him to stop playing mediator. 

Instead, he just frowns at them.

“I’m not even yelling?”

“Exactly!” Tachihara points a finger at him in victory “A bad mood this quiet means Dazai fucked up bad”

“You’re storm cloud upset” Akutagawa agrees again “Not explosively aggravated. It’s concerning”

And that’s not exactly fair, because Dazai didn’t really do anything actually wrong and the implication that a sadder type of angry can only come from dealing with Dazai is upsetting in and on itself, actually.

“Dazai didn’t do shit” he complains.

“And your mood isn’t shitty, yeah, yeah” Tachihara mocks “So we’ve heard”

Chuuya shoves him away lightly, mood souring even worse the longer they prod him about it.

It’s not that talking wouldn’t help, but he’s pretty sure the whole fake relationship thing is supposed to be a secret. Dazai already let him in on it, so Chuuya is not about to go around telling even more people about it.

Besides, he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to know.

For one, because it’s stupid and ridiculous, but also because admitting that that’s what the problem is would also mean admitting why it’s a problem in the first place and there’s no way Chuuya is about to open up to his friends about feelings mid shift.

But Tachihara keeps staring, eyebrows raised and Akutagawa is pretending to give him space, but he still keeps shooting Chuuya worried glances over his shoulder and goddamn it fucking fine.

Distilling it is, then.

“Have you ever, uh…” he starts, hesitant, reworking the words in his head before trying again “Have you ever seen one of those fake relationships romcom things?”

And he’s not about to spill all of it, but he can probably ask them about the concept and their takes on it and such.

Akutagawa stops messing with the blenders, dropping them completely to face Chuuya with an expression of absolute confusion.

On his other side, Tachihara snorts loudly.

“Swift transition, Chuuya” he deadpans “Smooth, even”

“Fake relationship romcoms?” Akutagawa repeats, slowly.

“That was a terrible change of subject, man” Tachihara shakes his head in disbelief.

He shakes his head like he’s judging Chuuya’s clunky misdirection, like there’s absolutely nothing connecting the topics of Chuuya’s mood, Dazai’s shenanigans and fake relationships.

If fucking only.

“Yes” Chuuya hisses, eyes narrowing because hey, they wanted him to fucking talk “Have you ever fucking seen any?”

Tachihara throws his hands up in surrender, like hey, if you don’t want to talk whatever, which is just so very ironic of him after prodding Chuuya about it to exhaustion.

“I suppose so?” Akutagawa hesitantly responds, still frowning in confusion even as he glances away and muffles an embarrassed cough on his fist “I’ve also read some things about it, I guess”

Tachihara snickers, putting on a play pretend serious face.

“Yeah, sure” he nods “Fake relationships, super concerning stuff”

Chuuya tsks, pushing away from the counter and giving up on them altogether.

“Whatever go clean your fucking stations or something” he complains, walking back to the computer so he can wait on nonexistent costumers “I’m done with your shit for today”

“Yeah, yeah, Boss” Tachihara mocks, but he does head back to the end of the counter.

“We’ll be here when you do want to talk, though” Akutagawa offers “Or if you feel like actually talking”

Chuuya suppresses the urge to give them the finger as a costumer finally walks in, but it’s a very near thing.

Chuuya stalls.

He stalls and he cleans up slowly after his shift and then all but bullies Tachihara into hanging around for a smoke. 

And then a second one.

And then Tachihara calls him an ashtray and tells him to get the fuck home as he leaves for the night.

And then Chuuya stalls. He walks around campus aimlessly and pretends it’s a scenic walk instead of just mindless stalling and then he stalls some more.

And then he gets annoyed and too bored and way too embarrassed to keep up with this bullshit, so he tells himself to suck it up and go home.

By then, the sun has finished setting and he’s run out of excuses, so he doesn’t even stall that much on the walk to their dorm building, as if it makes up for all the idiotic dilly dallying from before.

It’s stupid.

Truth is, he’s feeling a bit stupid himself about his reactions earlier and he’s a bit too utterly embarrassed to face Dazai again.

Which itself is stupid, because he’s never been one to run from a fight and he really shouldn’t start now. Truthfully, he’s tired and annoyed and he wants to go home.

Mostly though, he’s embarrassed.

Dazai was trying to tell him about a silly thing he’s doing with a… 

Well, what is Fyodor exactly? A friend? An enemy? Someone Dazai has astounding sexual tension with?

A friend. Chuuya settles on a friend.

Either way, Dazai was trying to tell him about something silly he’s doing with a friend. About a stupid fake relationship, and he kind of snapped.

It’s not like his reaction was for no reason, exactly, but still.

It wasn’t for any reason he’d be willing to explain to Dazai. And he sure as fuck isn’t willing to apologize. 

So mostly, he’s embarrassed. And he wants to go home.

He doesn’t think Dazai will make him apologize though, because that’s not really how they do things and Chuuya didn’t even cross too many boundaries. Really, the whole thing was fine.

So he knows what’s keeping him away is less the actual argument and more his unwillingness to accept what about it upset him the first place.

Which is stupid.

Which is why he’s doing it, he’s sucking up and going home.

Chuuya is a grown up and he can handle looking at Dazai’s pretty face and dealing with whatever feelings may or may not come to the surface because of it.

Dazai won’t look upset anymore, everything is fine.

And hopefully, he’ll get to come home to little teasing, to Dazai making fun of him for his shitty mood in the morning and chalking up his odd reactions to that alone.

That will be all, Dazai will make fun of him and then things will go back to normal.

With the fun little quirky addition of Dazai now dating Fyodor.

Fake dating.

Whichever.

Chuuya just hopes things can go back to normal soon.

Or not, this is fine too. He doesn’t even care.

Dazai and Fyodor can date or whatever, it’s alright.

This is fine.

It’s fine.

And Chuuya repeats it in his head like a prayer now, a desperate fucking mantra as he stands in front of the door to their room and wills himself to calm the fuck down and get on with it.

He’s just going home, he doesn’t have to strain to check if there are any noises coming from inside, he can just push the door open and get this over with.

C’mon just open the fucking door.

It’s stupid, open it.

It seems eerily quiet inside, but that might just be the fact that Chuuya’s a bit nervous.

It’s not like he and Dazai never fight. Quite the opposite, actually.

In fact, this barely even constitutes as a fight in their book, which honestly might make things worse, because even if that wasn’t a fight, it was a bit of a tantrum on Chuuya’s part.

And what’s much, much worse, a tantrum that made him vulnerable to some questions. 

Questions he very much can’t have Dazai asking, because Chuuya wouldn’t be able to fucking answer.

Why does it bother you so much, Chuuya?

What do you care if I date, Chuuya?

Why can’t you handle the thought of me having even a fake relationship?

Why are you so pressed about this?

Why do you need me to reassure you again and again that it’s fucking fake?

So yeah, he’s not ready for questions and he sure as fuck isn’t ready to have to answer for his behavior.

Not out loud at least. And specially not to Dazai.

He can’t stand outside their room forever though, because that is getting pathetic quick, so fuck that.

With a final silent prayer that the quiet room indicates that there’s nothing but a napping mackerel waiting beyond the door and a night free of brown eyes scrutinizing Chuuya’s earlier actions, he shoves his key into the lock and pushes the door open hard. Like legitimately hard.

As in, he didn’t mean it to, but the door swings on it hinges and crashes against the wall hard. Like with a loud bang.

And that would have been bad enough, because he didn’t think he was this fidgety, but it gets worse.

Oh, it gets much worse.

Because what waits for him beyond the dramatically open door is not a napping mackerel.

No, because of course not.

Because when has Chuuya ever been so fucking lucky.

Instead, because Chuuya is apparently cursed to have a shit day filled with minor catastrophes, the open door reveals Fyodor.

Fyodor, in their room. Fyodor, lounging in Dazai’s bed. Leaning back against the pillow with a book in his hands like it’s nothing. Like he belongs there.

He puts the book down slowly, marking his place with one long elegant finger and looks up with his eyes positively swimming in amusement, lips twisted into a small smile.

Like Chuuya barging into his own room is the funniest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

Chuuya hates his stupid face.

Chuuya wants that stupid face in the ground.

But this is fine.

This is normal.

This is fine.

Chuuya’s bag drops to the floor with a muffled thud.

“Fyodor” he greets, tone dry.

“Chuuya” he answers, raising an eyebrow while the rest of his face remains frozen in that same expression, like he’s terribly amused, but Chuuya doesn’t get to know why yet.

Chuuya wants to smother him with the pillow he’s resting on.

But here’s the thing, the actual truth of the matter: Chuuya doesn’t hate Fyodor.

He’s not Chuuya’s favorite person, sure.

But Chuuya knows that Dazai likes Fyodor. However much Dazai also pretends to hate him.

The truth, though, is that Fyodor keeps Dazai motivated, he breathes life into him through their little competitions and Chuuya knows that half the intellectual challenge college provides to Dazai is because of Fyodor more than their actual assignments.

In a way, he keeps Dazai going. 

And Chuuya knows this, he hears it in every exasperated rant about Fedya’s stupid paper and Fedya’s stupid thesis submission and Fedya’s stupid ass debate arguments. 

There’s a spark in Dazai’s eyes then, something about him glowing in those conversations.

And Chuuya can appreciate that. So in a way, he appreciates Fyodor.

He will even go as far as to say he’s actually pretty grateful for his presence in Dazai’s life. Chuuya appreciates his role in the complicated machinations that keep Dazai happy.

So there, in truth, in fact, Chuuya does not hate Fyodor.

Right now, in this very moment though? He hates the sight of him.

And he hates how comfortable he looks in Dazai’s bed.

And he does not trust him or this or any of his fucking intentions.

“Dazai?” Chuuya asks, clenching his fists subconsciously as he juts his chin at the empty room.

Fyodor’s lips twitch minutely, a barely there movement that hints at nothing good. His other eyebrow joins the first one, both now raised in amusement.

“He’s in the shower” his voice is even, still giving absolutely nothing away, but his eyes are still sparkling “Rock, paper, scissor to see who joins him?”

Chuuya chokes, his stomach drops. Fyodor smirks.

He wants him dead.

Chuuya is going to fucking murder him.

Because not only was that basically a sex joke, that was also a jab at Chuuya’s feelings. 

At Chuuya’s secret fucking feelings that Fyodor should know nothing about.

And as Chuuya’s blood boils and his brain spirals around Fyodor’s stupid smirk and sex joke and a chorus of he knows, he knows, he fucking knows, a more perceptive part of him catches up to the fact that Dazai is showering.

With Fyodor just waiting around in their room for him. Casually.

And oh.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck no.

He narrow his eyes at Fyodor, kicking the door closed with another loud bang that Fyodor doesn’t react to and very carefully moves to sit down on his bed. 

He is stiff as he does it, running a shaky hand through his hair and gritting his teeth to bite down the words clawing up his throat. Because Fyodor is still fucking smirking, lips twitching like he’s having a hard time not laughing at Chuuya.

Like this is the single funniest thing he’s ever done.

And Chuuya is too busy to even be embarrassed, because his mind is latched on to a single concern with absolute desperation.

Oh god, did they fuck?

Did they fuck on Dazai’s bed?

Oh god, did you fuck him in our room?

He doesn’t ask, though. Partially because he doesn’t want to know. Mostly because the answer could kill him.

He doesn’t ask, he just swallows the questions and takes a deep steady breath.

He’s being an idiot again.

He’s letting Fyodor play him.

Fyodor, who apparently knows.

So instead of asking anything pathetic or suspicious, Chuuya looks around the room more carefully.

Everything is in order. Dazai’s bed is a mess, yes, but that’s not new.

There’s nothing to indicate something dramatic has happened in the time Chuuya has been away.

Not that the room would necessarily display physical evidence if anything had happened, but Chuuya feels like it should.

His own room should let him know if fucking crimes against him were committed in it.

There’s nothing, though.

Fyodor has even gone back to reading, so he doesn’t look too interested in the conversation. And while he’s always a bit annoying, he doesn’t look like he’s in some form of post-orgasm smugness. There’s also the fact that even though he’s laying on Dazai’s bed, he is very pointedly lounging over the covers. And of course, he is very much fully clothed.

This is fine.

Chuuya is just being stupid again. 

Everything is fine.

He lets out a deep exhale, shoulders easing.

At the sound of it, Fyodor lowers the book again and when his gaze meets Chuuya’s, there’s an amused sparkle in his eyes. The fucker.

His lips twitch again, like he’s having a really hard time holding in that laugh. Like he’s having the time of his fucking life here.

“We were just strategizing” he explains, waving his elegant hand as if saying, you know, as one does “He told me you were informed about our plans this morning”

Ah, yes.  

The fake relationship of course. 

Of course.

Apparently it requires a strategy.

How very scheming of Dazai and Fyodor. 

How very ridiculous of them.

Chuuya snorts and Fyodor takes it as an inceptive to go on, even if that’s not at all how Chuuya meant it.

“We got most of the base outline settled, so when it started to get dark he said he was going to shower” Fyodor pauses, plays with his long dark bangs like it’s quite the task having to explain his presence to Chuuya and he’s getting exhausted “He said he wanted to make sure the shower would be free for you”

Chuuya hums, warmth swelling in his chest. Dazai can be considerate sometimes.

Specially when he thinks he won’t get caught. The bastard.

“And you’re waiting for him to finish?” Chuuya asks, because while all that does explain Dazai’s absence, it doesn’t justify Fyodor’s presence.

Fyodor shrugs, going back to his book. 

“I like it here”

Like it’s that simple. Like that’s reason enough. Like this is fine.

He hums again, fingers tracing the edge of his book’s pages slowly.

“Your room is quite cozy” he adds, like an afterthought.

And Chuuya doesn’t really know what to say to that.

Because he knows Fyodor to be a lot of things, but he’s not usually honest.

It’s a bit unsettling and it is definitely concerning. 

Chuuya is honestly not even sure how to take it, so he doesn’t say anything. 

Fyodor just keeps reading and the room is once again silent.

It is cozy.

And Chuuya just stares, almost not even registering the way Fyodor’s lips start twitching in silent laughter again the longer they sit there in each other’s company.

They just sit in silence until the shower stops running. Fyodor’s eyes snap up towards him then and he openly smiles. It’s creepy.

Then the door opens and Dazai finally steps out of their bathroom.

He steps through the door carrying with him a wave of steam and warm yellow light. He’s wrapped in fresh bandages, but still wearing the same get up of T-shirt and boxers from earlier, just having replaced them with clean ones. His hair is still wet and it curls at the ends as it dries, hanging a bit over his eyes as the water weights it down, making it seem longer than usual.

He spots Chuuya sitting stiff as a statue in the bed across the room and then his eyes light up like a stupid ass Christmas tree.

He looks beautiful.

He looks like a dork.

“You’re back” he greets, tone soft and making Chuuya’s heart stutter.

Fyodor stretches on the bed a final time, taking longer than before as he splays on a dramatic arch before standing.

“And I’m leaving” he announces, stuffing his book away in a backpack and waving with disinterest in Chuuya general direction “Since you’re going to be all distracted now”

Like Chuuya is a fucking inconvenience.

Fuck this guy.

Not Dazai though, Dazai should not fuck him.

Dazai just scoffs, nose wrinkling and Fyodor crosses the room without fuss, pausing only to shoot Chuuya another amused smile on his way out the door.

Then the door closes and the room is once again silent.

Like he was never there in the first place.

And then it’s just them in the empty room. The light and the steam coming in from the bathroom making it cozier and Dazai’s presence hanging beside him like a reassurance.

Still, the silence lingers long after the door has been shut and although Dazai’s eyes are still soft, he eventually looks away.

Chuuya’s stomach sinks.

This better not be awkward.

“Chuu-ya” he starts, voice light even as he rolls the name around, stretching it like he’s not sure how to go about this.

He pauses again, hesitant and Chuuya’s stomach that had dropped plummets. 

Please, don’t be awkward.

And maybe Chuuya’s cursed day is finally over, maybe he can finally get a break for once, because Dazai looks back with a smile and suddenly drops himself on the bed next to Chuuya, head falling to rest on his lap.

“Thank fuck you’re back, chibi!” he waves his hands around as he talks, enthusiasm apparently only half forced because his eyes look a bit unsure, but they’re bright “Someone had to chase that rat away, he was stinking up the place so bad I had to run to the bathroom for cover!”

Chuuya snorts, lets himself laugh at his roommate’s stupidity and bites down the urge to run his finger through Dazai’s damp hair that is currently very much leaking water all over Chuuya’s pants.

What a menace.

“I guess it makes sense you’d understand each other, though” Dazai continues “A rat and a slug, I bet you could communicate, but I don’t speak the language of pests, you know?”

Again, Chuuya snorts down a chuckle.

He doesn’t even care about what Dazai is saying, he’s too happy to just watch him talk.

And Dazai keeps going, yapping about tiny creatures and how it’s an infestation, droning on and on until the atmosphere is back to normal. 

Dazai, giving him an easy out.

Like it’s simple, like it can be easy.

They don’t mention the fake relationship again.

It’s a quiet kind of truce, something good.

And this is good, this is fine.