Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

M/M

| Bungou Stray Dogs

Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Mori Ougai (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Ozaki Kouyou (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Tachihara Michizou (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Kunikida Doppo (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Oda Sakunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Kajii Motojirou (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Taneda Santouka (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Izumi Kyouka (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Lucy Maud Montgomery (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Elise (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

Alternate Universe - No Powers
Musician!Chuuya
Musician!Dazai
Slow Burn
Literal Sleeping Together
Mutual Pining
Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction
Minor Character Death
unresolved childhood trauma
Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Depersonalization
Enemies to Musical Duo to Even Worse Enemies to Lovers
Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt
Implied/Referenced Overdose
like i guess there's teenage drinking but there's teenage murder in canon
Angst with a Happy Ending
Slowest Burn is a more accurate tag tbh
English Bungou Stray Fics , my all time favorites! , bungou stray dogs , iconic - high chance of tears ,
Pastels fics , Hanya Fic yang Aku Sukai , SOUKOKU !!!!!! *SCREAMS* , i'm in love with these fics , the
landscape of my heart , I'm not Allowed to Make Comments on Ongoing Port Mafia Record's Legal
Disputes.. BUT , Soukoku for the Soul , RANDOM_FANDOM , FICS WITH THE BEST CONCEPTS ,
For Later Marks , BSD_fics_worth_of_adoration , Bungo Stray Dogs Favorites , completed bsd fics that
give me life , i really really like soukoku , BSD fics that I reread again and again , cabinets favorites , Will's
:
Special Recommendations (also known as the GOAT) , BSD4568260 , SOUKOKU , jacks fave fics , ❀
❀'s library , shinjuu , call 911 for I have died at the sheer perfection that are these fics , bsd library , I
Was Screaming These Fics Through The Radio , blue's collection of fics , То что нравится , Soukoku
*chefs kiss* , fics that hit different , my absolute favourite bsd fics <3. , omg! , Why...(° °) ! (pages and
pages of google docs links)░(°◡°)░ , Soukoku Is Life , Best Music Fics , Best__of_the_Best

I Was Screaming Your Name Through The Radio

ElectricSplatter

Chapter 2 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/22133044/chapters/53196136) : Let's Take This (Shit)

Show On the Road 1

Notes:

ty for all the love on chapter one! :)

the number of chapters has been changed due to this chapter now being split and...poor counting
(See the end of the chapter for more notes (#chapter_2_endnotes) .)
September, Six Years & Eight Months Since the Release of Corruption
“You are not to retaliate.”
Dazai sighs, not bothering to look up from the game he’s playing on his phone. “I understand,
Kunikida.” He keeps his tone flat.
“I’m serious, Dazai.” Kunikida yanks the phone from his hands and leans down so he’s extremely
close. “Things with Port Mafia Records have been going relatively smoothly since that business with The
Guild in August. We are not to put that in jeopardy, especially over some childish feud.”
Dazai wants to protest that the feud is actually a lot more nuanced than it appears just to see Kunikida’s
response, but he resists the urge. “And I said I understand. It’s like you don’t trust me or something.”
“You have trouble seeing things rationally when in it comes to PMR, Nakahara in particular.” Kunikida
offers him the phone back, and Dazai takes it. He makes sure to give Kunikida an unimpressed look.
“I swear I’m not going to do anything.”

Early March, Ten Months Until the Release of Corruption

Chuuya knows he’s still fifteen, but he hadn’t actually thought anyone really cared about that. He stays
in a dorm room by himself in one of the buildings PMR owns with little supervision. He’s free to do what he
pleases for the most part. Sure, he spends most of his time at PMR, but he’s never had strict hours (other
than when Kouyou wants him to be somewhere).
Which is why it’s kind of a fucking surprise that he’s been assigned a tutor to accompany him on tour.
Well, it’s not a real teacher. It’s Hirotsu. But still.
“It wouldn’t look very good if Port Mafia Records supported truancy, Chuuya,” Mori had said
innocently. As if Mori had ever mentioned school to him once in the six months he’s known him.
He’d been able to avoid it on the flight from L.A. to Singapore. Hirotsu had been content to silently
read a book in his seat near the front of PMR’s plane. Chuuya had unfortunately ended up sitting next to
Dazai. They’d alternated between arguing, sleeping, and playing an ever escalating game of truth or dare
(which had really just been dare and after Dazai had almost ruined one of the bathrooms on the plane they
had been separated for the rest of the flight).
Now that they’ve arrived and instead of sleeping like he desperately wants to he’s doing math in a hotel
room while Hirotsu watches. Kouyou has gone on to do sound checks at the venue, and he doesn’t know the
rest of the PMR team that’s come with them well. Dazai had disappeared when they’d arrived too, muttering
:
something about finishing a song.
Chuuya hasn’t regularly gone to school since he was thirteen. His foster families had never really given
a shit if he went as long as no one called them about it. Then after he’d started living alone school hadn’t
exactly been a priority. The other members of The Sheep hadn’t been much for school either, they’d spent
most of their time ditching so they could work on their music.
He’s far enough removed from The Sheep now to recognize that their music hadn’t been…well, it
wasn’t anything to brag about. He hadn’t cared at the time. He was just excited to be playing. Chuuya
misses the feeling of being on stage, of the energy that comes from playing music with your best friends.
He doesn’t like to think about Shirase and the others. He’s still furious with them for thinking he’d sell
them out. He doesn’t want to miss them. But as usual, he doesn’t get what he wants.
Hirotsu makes a noise clearing his throat drawing Chuuya back to his worksheet (where the hell had
they even gotten these?). Chuuya rolls his eyes but starts working on the problem again.
Chuuya is kind of grateful when Dazai interrupts him by flinging the door open so it smacks against the
wall. He makes sure to look annoyed though. Hirotsu just raises a hand to his forehead and says nothing.
“There you are, chibi,” says Dazai. He enters the room and hops onto the desk Chuuya’s been working
at. He glances down at Chuuya’s worksheet. He’s smiling widely. “Your answer to number four is wrong.”
“Get out,” says Chuuya. He tries to stab Dazai’s hand with his pencil, but Dazai dodges easily.
“This is going to be so boring if you have to study the whole time,” whines Dazai. “We’re supposed to
be exploring the city.”
Dazai, infuriately, had gotten his GED when he was fourteen, and was spared from PMR going through
the motions of taking care of its younger employees. He’d laughed in his face when he’d heard Chuuya was
going to have lessons during the tour.
“You think I want to do this?” asks Chuuya. He gestures at the worksheet angrily, not caring if he
offends Hirotsu. “It’s a fucking waste of time.”
“So just get your GED like I did.” Dazai says it like it’s easy. Freaking geniuses.
“I won’t pass,” snaps Chuuya. He’s never been embarrassed to not have finished school before, but this
whole experience is making him feel uncomfortable about it. It didn’t really matter. You didn’t need to know
algebra to play music, but he hated looking…lesser.
“Sure you will.” Dazai sounds confident, enough to make Chuuya pause and consider him. “I’ll tutor
you. I know you’re not as dumb as you act.”
“The hell you will.” It was bad enough to have Dazai correct his pitch while singing. He glances over
to see what Hirotsu thinks. He’s watching the exchange with a mostly blank expression, but his lips are
raised in a slight smile. It further resolves Chuuya’s instinct that it’s a bad idea.
“Let’s make a bet then,” says Dazai. He leans his chin on one of his fists, looking down at Chuuya with
a smirk. Chuuya glares up at him, locking eyes with him.
Bets are serious business between them. When one of them offered a real challenge, the other had
never backed down. And Chuuya wasn’t going to start now.
“You’re on,” says Chuuya. Dazai nods in acknowledgment, pleased his offer was accepted. Chuuya
hears Hirotsu sigh from behind them but ignores him. The old man had been content to be a spectator up
until now, he doesn’t get an opinion anymore.
The next two weeks of Chuuya’s life are a daze of caffeine, hoards of rice and seafood, flashcards,
Dazai’s insults, Kouyou’s first concerts, broken hotel furniture, and more songs about science than he ever
wanted to know.
In the end, by the time they leave for the Philippines Chuuya has a GED and a headache. Hirotsu just
looks happy to be done with the two of them when he presents it to him.
“You know,” says the older man as he hands Chuuya’s phone back to him with his test results, “If you
really wanted to win the bet you could have failed the test on purpose.”
“I…,” Chuuya falters. He had thought of that, but it didn’t feel right to fail just because he could. Dazai
had spent sleepless nights (although that was common for him) taunting Chuuya into learning more than he
ever had in years of school. Failing on purpose would have been like lying. Dazai might be a liar, but
Chuuya isn’t.
“Don’t worry so much, Chuuya,” says Hirotsu, smiling much more kindly than he had over the past
couple weeks. “Get out of here so you stop adding any more damages to our hotel budget.”
:
 Chuuya huffs a laugh and waves over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, old geezer. I’ll see you later at the
show tonight!”
Dazai is already waiting for him at the hotel’s doors.

Late March, Ten Months Until the Release of Corruption

It happens for the first time when they’re on the boat from the Philippines to Vietnam. It’s a night ferry,
and the whole tour crew and most of their equipment takes up the majority of the ship. Chuuya has been
shoved into a room with half a dozen beds that are all filled with PMR employees.
Kouyou had insisted they travel by boat, claiming it was more civilized than an airplane and by the
time you accounted for putting everything on the plane, boarding, and everything else it wasn’t even that
much slower. Chuuya thinks this is a load of crap, but he’s not about to start crossing Kouyou now. She’s
scary enough back home when she’s getting enough sleep and they’re talking calmly over tea.
Chuuya doesn’t get to see Kouyou as often as he’d like, but he knows she’s going out of her way to
spend time with him. He’s eaten breakfast with her multiple times. She’s taken him to witness all the steps
involved in playing a live show of PMR caliber. They’ve sang together to help her warm up before some of
her shows.
Now that he’s not studying like his life depends on it, he’s embarrassed how much he misses her. And
her stupid tea.
He’d also been on an insane sleep schedule while he was studying that was basically no sleep followed
by thirteen hours straight when he could manage it. Add jet lag to that and his body has been totally out of
whack. When he crashes in his bunk on the boat it’s one of the first times it feels like his brain and the time
zone have cooperated.
Which is why it’s jarring to be kicked awake a couple hours later. Chuuya automatically wants to hit
whoever woke him up, even before his eyes adjust in the dark to see Dazai crouching next to his bed.
It’s hard to make out his expression in the dark. “You were mumbling in your sleep, sounded quite
distressed,” Dazai whispers.
Chuuya cuts off the angry accusation he was going to give. He rubs his eyes to try and get his head
straight.
He knows he has nightmares. He’s had them for years. With all the shit he’s been through, it’s kind of a
given.
But it’s one thing to be gently shaken awake by Yuan lightly grabbing his shoulder. Her eyes had
always looked at him with the right amount of sympathy that never edged into pity. She never asked what
they were about either, just sat with him until he calmed down enough to try sleeping again.
Sometimes that wasn’t an option, and they would listen to music until he exhausted himself into sleep.
Shirase would play video games with him until the sun rose some nights. On rare occasions the whole band
pulled all nighters just messing around on their instruments, never really trying to play anything.
This is different. Chuuya might spend more time with Dazai than anyone else does, but he doesn’t
actually know him. Dazai doesn’t let him. And he sure as hell doesn’t trust him. He doesn’t trust him to not
be an asshole about this either.
“Sorry if I woke you,” he mutters. He doesn’t look over at Dazai. Dazai has a way of seeing through all
of Chuuya’s excuses and faked confidence. Chuuya doesn’t want that now.
Dazai hums quietly but doesn’t say anything else.
They sit in silence for a while, but it becomes obvious that Dazai isn’t going anywhere.
“Did you need something?” Chuuya keeps his voice quiet, but the question isn’t kind.
“Do you?”
That catches Chuuya by surprise. He glances over at Dazai to find him still crouching in the same
position. His face is easier to make out. His expression is carefully blank. But it isn’t judging, it isn’t
mocking Chuuya or an offer of kindness.
Chuuya shakes his head and looks away again. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep, idiot.”
“Then keep the thrashing to a minimum.”
If anyone else had said that, Chuuya would have punched them. Instead he just nods slightly.
Dazai stands up and walks back towards his bed a few down from Chuuya. He doesn’t look back, just
moves through the darkness with ease.
:
 Chuuya watches him until he’s lying back down and out of sight. He sighs quietly and repositions
himself, trying to get comfortable again.
He lies awake for a long time. He blames it on the stupid boat.
When they arrive on land again Chuuya tags along with Kouyou to a couple interviews. He’s not
avoiding Dazai, he’s just not seeking him out. Neither of them speak any Vietnamese anyway, they’d need
help to get around here. It makes sense to spend time with Kouyou while he can.
“Something bothering you, Chuuya?” Kouyou asks once the second reporter has left the room. One of
Kouyou’s assistants is prepping the next one, making sure the questions are PMR (aka Mori) approved.
Another one is sliding two cups of honey vanilla chamomile tea in front of them.
Chuuya grabs one of the cups, blowing on it. He still can’t drink it scalding hot. “Just a little tired. I
didn’t sleep well on the ship. Must have been the waves.”
Kouyou starts laughing, more than her usual demur chuckle, but real, hard laughing. Chuuya turns to
find her clutching her side and trying to stop.
“What?” he demands. He can feel his face getting more and more red.
“That tea was supposed to be for the reporter.” Kouyou barely gets the words out around her laughter.
Chuuya stutters and sets the tea down quickly, spilling some of it on his hand and burning himself.
“Fuck,” he lets out automatically.
Both the assistants turn to look at him in a combination of horror and disapproval. The reporter tries to
keep a neutral face, but his bewilderment in obvious. Kouyou laughs even harder, wiping a couple tears
away.
It’s sometimes easy to forget Kouyou is only four years older than him. She holds herself with so much
grace and maturity. But Chuuya would rather not be reminded of how close they are in age at the expense of
his dignity.
Chuuya stands up awkwardly. “Uh, sorry,” he says inelegantly. He hovers in place, unsure what the
next step is.
“I’ll fetch more tea.” The assistant who set the cups down darts out of the room. The woman glares at
Chuuya as she leaves.
Chuuya feels slightly annoyed, it’s not like he did it on purpose. He’s pulled back into sitting by
Kouyou tugging on his hand. She pulls him into the spot next to her though instead of across from her.
She’s schooled herself back into her serious persona. There’s still a hint of a smile on her face though
as she greets the reporter with a bow. “Sorry about that. This is my protégé, Chuuya Nakahara. He’s got the
best voice at Port Mafia Records, he also really loves tea.”
Chuuya smiles a little over the praise, but tries to appear at least slightly professional.
“A pleasure.” The reporter clearly doesn’t know what to make of them but offers Chuuya his hand to
shake. Chuuya takes it and shakes it as firmly as he can.
“And when can we expect music from you, Mr. Nakahara?” the reporter asks.
“Oh, no time soon,” Kouyou answers before he can. Chuuya nods, although he’s been starting to
wonder that himself. But he wasn’t going to argue with Kouyou in front of a reporter (or ideally ever).
“Vietnam is absolutely beautiful. What area are you from?” asks Kouyou, steering the conversation away
with her usual poise.
He settles in to listen to the interview silently, sipping his stolen tea. Fuck, he needs sleep.
He arrives to the hotel that night ready to crash. He grabs his room key from the front desk and rides
the elevator up to the top floor. He’s not ready for the sight of someone in his room when he opens the door.
“Finally.” Dazai is sitting on one of the double beds, working on a laptop. He cuts off the sound of a
drum beat playing from the speakers as Chuuya enters the room. “Are you done following Kouyou around?
You haven’t even released any music yet, you don’t have to suck up to reporters.”
“Why the fuck are you in my room?” Chuuya doesn’t move from his spot near the door. Maybe he can
turn around and get a new room.
“Our room. We slept in the same room often enough while I was attempting to get you to be less of a
moron that they assumed we should share. Hirotsu said ‘I’d rather only get one room’s worth of damages.’
He’s quite the drama queen, isn’t he?”
“That’s hilarious coming from you,” says Chuuya. He surrenders and flops down onto the other bed,
head facing Dazai. “What are you working on?”
:
 “Nothing worth talking about.”
Chuuya thinks it’s funny that Dazai spends most of his time working on music when he’s never seen
him even like a song. When he showed up to Kouyou’s shows he barely payed attention. It’s almost
offensive, but Kouyou doesn’t care so Chuuya doesn’t say anything.
“Let’s go.” Dazai jumps off his (it wasn’t worth fighting at this point) bed and walks over to Chuuya’s.
He offers Chuuya a hand to pull himself up.
Chuuya swats his hand away. “Go where? I’m exhausted, Dazai.”
“How? You’ve been sitting all day.” Dazai leans down to pout in his face. “We’re in a new country and
we’ve barely been outside. Stop being lame.”
“Damn it, fine.” He sighs and pushes off the bed. Chuuya ignores Dazai’s satisfied look.
“I need food first. Coffee, too,” says Chuuya. He grabs his room key and suit jacket. Changing seems
like too much work. “And none of your fucking shenanigans. I want to actually sleep tonight.”
“I swear, Chuuya.”
Dazai sounds completely sincere, which Chuuya doesn’t believe for a second. He lets himself be
dragged out into the night though.
When they get back to the hotel two hours later, Chuuya no longer has his suit jacket or the lower half
of his left pants leg. Dazai is lugging the humongous tapestry they’d been forced to buy after damaging it.
Chuuya is sticky, he has booze that wasn’t his all over him. Dazai won’t stop humming some
Vietnamese song they’d heard that neither of them know the words to, and that doesn’t even make the top
five reasons why Chuuya wants to punch him.
Hirotsu is sitting in the lobby when they walk in. His expression would appear blank to anyone who
hadn’t spent the last few weeks getting very familiar with how he looks when he disapproves. He looks
between the two of them, and just raises a single eyebrow.
“Evening, Hirotsu.” Dazai sounds chipper. He drops the expensive piece of art at his bare feet (Chuuya
hadn’t even noticed when he lost his shoes), smiling widely.
“Is there a reason the two of you haven’t been answering your phones?”
“Mine’s dead,” says Chuuya. He runs a hand through his greasy hair. Ugh, he needs a shower.
“Mine’s broken.” Dazai holds up what used to be his phone. Chuuya glares at him before turning back
to Hirotsu. The man doesn’t seem surprised by anything.
“A new phone will be prepared for you by tomorrow morning.” Hirotsu stands up, his task completed.
“Try not to break anything else before I see you next.”
“We won’t,” Chuuya says automatically.
“No promises,” says Dazai at the same time. Chuuya stomps on his foot, which has got to hurt because
Chuuya wasn’t a dumbass and still is wearing shoes. Dazai lets out a yelp. He clutches his foot and pouts at
Chuuya.
Chuuya ignores him in favor of grabbing the tapestry and starting to drag it towards the elevator.
“Hey, that’s mine,” protests Dazai. He limps after Chuuya. He’s faking, Chuuya hadn’t stomped that
hard.
“I don’t want this piece of shit.” Chuuya hits the button for the top floor and slumps against the wall.
He’d thought he was exhausted when they left, now he’s running on fumes. Trust Dazai to turn a night into a
disaster with minimal effort.
“It is not a piece of shit,” says Dazai, still as energetic as ever. “I’m hanging it up in my office when we
get back.”
“You don’t have an office.” Chuuya will shower, then is immediately going to bed. He doesn’t care
what Dazai does.
“I actually do. It’s just stuffy and boring.” Chuuya looks over at him. He’s being serious. That figures,
the bastard has an office but Chuuya has never seen him in it once.
They arrive at their floor and Dazai grabs the other end of the tapestry and starts pulling Chuuya along
with him. Chuuya lets go as soon as they’re through the door of the hotel room.
He plugs his phone in, ignoring Dazai’s chattering behind him. Then he goes into the bathroom and
strips off his disgusting clothes. After he’s clean and feels somewhat human again he walks back out to a
dark room.
Chuuya stumbles to his bed and gets in. He can hear Dazai breathing evenly enough to be sleeping, and
:
isn’t interested if he’s faking or not. He closes his eyes and burrows a little further into the blankets.
Hirotsu had told him he had trouble sleeping in hotel rooms, that he didn’t like to be away from his bed
in L.A. Kouyou had said the same thing. Chuuya has spent the better part of the last couple years sleeping
on couches or the floor, so he doesn’t really mind. A bed was a bed. He falls asleep easily.
He wakes up to someone shaking his shoulder roughly. It’s not fully dark out anymore, but the sun
hasn’t risen either. He squints open his eyes to see Dazai kneeling on his bed. His hair is messed up, so he
had been sleeping. Chuuya notes he’s still wearing the bandages, he’d always wondered if he slept in them.
He’s looking down at Chuuya with that careful blank expression of his again.
“Do you have nightmares every night?” he asks. He sounds more curious than concerned.
“Not usually.” Chuuya forces himself into a sitting position so Dazai isn’t looming over him. “You
didn’t have to wake me up.”
Dazai shifts so he’s sitting cross-legged on the bed. He’s wearing an old black t-shirt and flannel
pajama pants, it’s the youngest Chuuya has even seen him look. It makes him easier to talk to somehow.
“I thought you’d be too tired for this.” Dazai speaks quietly, even though it’s just the two of them.
“Would it help to talk about it?”
Chuuya noted the wording, not do you want to, but would it help. He pictures telling Dazai what he
usually dreams about, and the thought brings a revolting sense of fear and panic.
“No,” he says firmly. Dazai doesn’t seem surprised, he just nods as if that was the answer he expected.
“I’m serious, you don’t have to wake me up if you can sleep through it,” says Chuuya. He runs a hand
through his hair. “It doesn’t make a difference.”
“I don’t mind.” Dazai shrugs. Chuuya can tell now that he’s just woken up too. He’s less sharp, his
words less polished.
“Whatever.” Chuuya lays back down and rolls over so he’s facing the wall instead of Dazai. He feels
like he should be embarrassed. He probably will be in the morning. Right now he’s too tired.
He’s not too tired to whip around when he feels Dazai getting underneath the covers of his bed though.
Dazai doesn’t stop, adjusting the other pillow casually.
“What the fuck are you doing?” hisses Chuuya.
“Sleeping, chibi. It’s too much work moving.” Dazai meets Chuuya’s eyes as he lays down facing him.
“Plus, then I don’t have to walk over here again if you start being noisy.”
Chuuya debates arguing for half a second before deciding he's too tired. He lets out a sort of half grunt
and turns back over. He falls back asleep almost instantly.
When he wakes up Dazai is already gone. He grabs his phone from the nightstand to see what time it is.
It’s past ten, which is later than he usually sleeps. He has a bunch of unread messages. There’s one
from Kouyou asking if he’s eaten already from 6AM. Hirotsu had texted an hour ago to tell him to take a car
to the stadium by 3 today. The rest of texts are from an unknown number.
[8:22am unknown number]: chuuuuya~ hirotsu is a meanie and made me get a new number
[8:23am unknown number]: he also tried to return my tapestry but i stopped him
[8:23am unknown number]: :D
[9:15am unknown number]: short stuff daylight is wasting
[10:02am unknown number]: you’re such a slow little doggie
Chuuya rolls his eyes and quickly types out a reply.
[10:16am Chuuya]: I think you have the wrong number
[10:16am Dickwad]: you’re awake!
[10:16am Dickwad]: hurry up and get ready. I want mango cake <3
Chuuya reads the messages but doesn’t reply, already going to take a shower.
He was right, the embarrassment is here now. But the more he thinks about it, the weirder and less
embarrassing it gets. Dazai hadn’t played any of his usual tricks. He’d just done the bare minimum to stop
Chuuya from being loud. It was more decent than Chuuya had known Dazai was capable of being.
He could still picture his eyes as they’d looked at him both times. Yuan’s eyes had way more warmth,
but they were always questioning. She had never asked, but Chuuya could tell that she had wanted to know.
She just wanted Chuuya to want to tell her. Dazai hadn’t seemed like he was interested in an explanation at
all.
She’d offered to sleep next to him, many times. Chuuya had always told her no.
:
 Chuuya gets dressed quickly after showering, back in a full suit with no rips or stains. He straps his
choker on and fixes his hair. It’s starting to get long, he should probably get it cut.
He expects Dazai to bring it up as he drags him to get dessert, or during the concert, or when they’re
back in their room at the end of the day and alone. He never does though. He’s his typical obnoxious self,
flitting between personalities and insults easily. Chuuya insults him back and ignores him when possible.
Dazai is playing a game on his phone, laying diagonally across his bed when Chuuya comes out of the
bathroom that night. He’s still in his clothes from the day, sleeves rolled up to show his bandages. Chuuya
had noticed the supply of them in the bathroom today, and the used ones in the trash can, but hadn’t
inspected them closely.
In the past he probably would have, but he doesn’t want to mess with this weird version of a truce they
have between them. If Dazai is willing to back off from Chuuya’s nightmares, Chuuya can do the same for
his freakish habits.
Chuuya climbs into his own bed, grabbing his own phone to set an alarm. He really did need to try to
figure out a healthier sleep schedule if he didn’t want his body to give out on him. He flicks through his
email too, reading work updates.
He’s aware of Dazai walking into the bathroom, carrying the clothes he sleeps in. Once he’s closed the
door Chuuya puts down his phone on the table in between their beds. He plugs it in to charge overnight and
turns out the light on his side of the room. Dazai had left the room completely dark when he’d come out of
the bathroom last night, but he wasn’t as much of an asshole as Dazai was. He left the bedside lamp next to
Dazai’s bed on as he settled in for the night.
He keeps his eyes closed and breathing even when Dazai enters the room again. A minute later the
other lamp is turned off. The room is quiet and completely dark, and Chuuya falls asleep not long after.
He wakes up to the sound of his alarm going off, having slept through the night without any
interruptions. Chuuya feels deeply relieved, nightly interruptions wasn’t something he wanted to get used to.
A pillow smacks him in the side of the head, ruining his good mood. “Chuuya, turn that infernal racket
off.”
Chuuya throws the pillow back as he taps his phone to silence it. Dazai catches it without looking and
places it back on the bed. He’s still in his pajamas, a laptop open in front of him. Chuuya can see the
complex switches and dials on the screen used to edit music.
Chuuya sighs and stretches his arms over his head. “Breakfast?”
“I thought you were eating with Kouyou,” answers Dazai. He doesn’t look away from the computer,
fiddling with the settings expertly.
“Oh. Right.” She had said that yesterday after the show. He hadn’t been aware Dazai was standing
there when that happened. He shoots a text to Kouyou telling her he’s awake and moves to get ready
quickly.
Dazai hasn’t moved by the time he’s ready to leave. He hovers awkwardly before he goes. Chuuya
doesn’t know exactly what he wants to say, what he feels about the shift between them over the past couple
days. Part of him wants to thank him, but the idea of doing that is horrifying.
“Why are you standing there looking like an idiot?” asks Dazai, looking up from the computer. “Run
along little doggie, before you piss off Kouyou.”
“Fuck off.” Screw that, Chuuya would rather die than ever thank him. He rolls his eyes and walks out
of the room without looking back.
It becomes a familiar pattern between them. They act as if nothing has changed, but on the odd nights
Chuuya has a nightmare, he’s woken up by Dazai never gently shaking him. They exchange few words, and
Dazai doesn’t move back to his own bed. Chuuya gets used to sleeping with another body next to his.
So maybe they’re a tiny bit less terrible to each other, but that doesn’t mean they’re friends. Chuuya
still thinks he’s insanely annoying and they argue in almost ever conversation they have.
Chuuya is mostly struck by the fact that underneath all of his whining and posturing (like way deep
down) Dazai sees and feels more than he lets on. It makes Chuuya pay closer attention, to try and catch
other glimpses of it. Osamu Dazai is a puzzle that he’s going to figure out one day.

April 29, Nine Months Until the Release of Corruption

Chuuya turns 16 on a Wednesday in Beijing, China. He wakes up alone in his bed, after a full night’s
:
sleep with no interruptions. It’s more of a birthday present than he’d expected.
Dazai is awake already, as usual. He has headphones on, working quietly on something. He doesn’t
look up when Chuuya starts to move around.
Chuuya’s phone ringing stops him from leaving the bed. The default ringtone blares out, startling him.
He only has that ringtone for one person, and the screen reads Boss.
Chuuya scrambles to pick up as quickly as possible. Dazai slips one of his headphones off and watches
him with raised brows.
“Hello?” His voice catches slightly from sleep. He clears his throat as quietly as possible.
“Chuuya, I hope I’m not waking you,” says Mori. He sounds as bright and cheerful as ever. Mori had
only spoken to Chuuya rarely when they were still in L.A. and he’d certainly never called him.
“Of course not, Boss,” says Chuuya, voice normal this time. Dazai’s expression sours at his words. He
mimes puking and goes back to work. Chuuya flicks him off with his hand not holding the phone.
“I won’t take up too much of your time,” says Mori. The idea that Chuuya is the busy one in this
situation is hilarious. “I just wanted to call to wish you a happy birthday. Sixteen, that’s a big year.”
“Thank you, sir.” Chuuya doesn’t know whether to be flattered or freaked out.
“How is the tour going?”
“Everything’s great. I’m learning a lot,” says Chuuya. It’s mostly true. All the time he didn’t spend
with Dazai was useful anyway.
“That’s wonderful to hear,” says Mori. “Perhaps we’ll revisit the issue of when you’ll start recording
music when you return.”
Chuuya stalls for what to say to that but Mori speaks again first. “Ah, Chuuya, I’m going to have to cut
this short. Elise just walked in.”
A girl’s voice could then be heard in the background. “Happy birthday, Chuuya! I miss you! Bring me a
present!”
“Elise, it’s his birthday,” corrects Mori happily. “He’s the one who should be getting presents.”
“Thanks Elise,” says Chuuya, mostly meaning it. “I’ll be sure to bring you back something good.”
“Have a good rest of your day.” Mori says it more like a command and then hangs up before Chuuya
can answer.
Chuuya stares down at the phone, shakes his head. This is already the weirdest birthday he’s ever had.
Conversations with Mori always left him feeling off balance.
“You shouldn’t be so familiar with the boss,” says Dazai. He has both his headphones off now, hanging
around his neck. He’s unexpectedly serious.
“I’m not familiar with the boss.” Chuuya brushes him off. He knows Dazai has a vendetta against
Mori, but it’s none of his business.
“Chuuya.” Dazai’s tone makes him look over at him. “He’s not someone you want to be close to.”
Chuuya can’t deny that makes his insides twist a little. Kouyou has often alluded to the same thing, just
as vaguely. “We’re not close. He called to wish me happy birthday.”
Dazai drops the serious expression immediately. His face goes from surprised to way too excited for
Chuuya’s comfort. “It’s your birthday?”
This is exactly why Chuuya didn’t tell him. Or Kouyou. Or anyone. Mori knew because he knew
everything about Chuuya. Maybe it would have been better to let Dazai think he and Mori were BFFs who
talked on the phone every day.
“Don’t tell anyone.” Chuuya says it as a threat. He leans over to get in Dazai’s personal space, glaring
as harshly as he can.
“I won’t. I promise.” Dazai holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence.

Notes:

originally the tour chapter was not going to be two parts but then it got...long
(me researching how to help people who have nightmares: yeah, yeah, that's great but it's way too
healthy. what would an emotionally repressed teenage boy do?)
:
 does the route of this tour make sense? who knows?? did i look at a map of Asia an embarrassing
amount of times while writing this? why, yes, yes i did
Close (#)
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