Chapter Text
Dazai pouts at his phone even though he’s well-aware Odasaku cannot witness his perfectly curated, outright pitiful eyes and wobbling lips through a phone screen. He sends a barrage of emoticons for the same effect though, splitting his message into five consecutive lines for full dramatics.
[Odasaku ▼・ᴥ・▼]: No more canned food, Dazai. Also, buy some milk.
He rolls his eyes at how well-mannered his friend sounds even through text, perfect grammar and punctuation and all that, without so much as a hint of annoyance at his kaomoji spam.
Eugh, how ridiculously mature!
Some people should really learn how to have some fun even if it’s just through text messaging.
Dazai enthusiastically taps his series of replies: a kissy face, a thumbs up, a ‘Yeahhhhh~ going home soon’ sent out word-per-word, and then a final grinning face. Hopefully that compels Odasaku to send at least one smiley emoticon back and break his streak of typing like a grandpa. Dazai tucks the phone in his pocket and gives his shopping cart a light shove as he walks to hunt down the next item on his grocery list.
The cart squeaks just as his phone rings, the awful pop medley a telling sound.
“Odasaku!” he greets too loudly which earns him a few distasteful leers from his co-patrons. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?”
Static crackles across their connection. “You’re done shopping?”
“ Wouldn’t you like to know,” Dazai laughs and then takes a box of cornflakes in passing. He drops it unceremoniously along with his growing pile of food, adjusting the phone to his ear when he hears Odasaku exhale in what can only be described as ‘disapprovingly’. If Dazai focuses enough, he can probably picture the way his eyebrows are pinched together.
See, this is probably why Odasaku looks so much older than his real age.
“Put the cereal back,” Odasaku says like some all-seeing god and Dazai nearly stumbles with how fast he turns. He glances around the mart suspiciously. Was Odasaku watching him through the surveillance cameras? He heard that such technology exists nowadays. Granted, it was information from the deep, dark web but still.
Maybe that’s what he meant when he had an ‘interesting I.T job offer over at Fitzgerald & Co.’?
Or maybe he really is just that predictable when it comes to his shopping routine, as Odasaku unkindly points out.
Dazai glares at the surveillance camera as he passes it. He sticks his tongue at the off-chance that Odasaku really is watching him. One can never be too sure. “It’s the healthy brand though!”
“You get enough sugar from your blasted coffee drinks,” Odasaku points out unkindly.
‘Blasted’? Who even still uses that word?
Dazai can hear the distinct click-clack of Odasaku’s keyboard in the background. “Eat better if you don’t want to get sick again.”
It makes him grin, the way Odasaku is still looking out for him even though it’s been more than a year since he left for Tokyo. He was worried their friendship would stale as most do with distance but Odasaku hasn’t quite gotten rid of him yet despite the barrage of purposefully grammatically incorrect text messages and unnecessary swarm of emojis, so he lets Odasaku win this round.
“Fine, fine. There.” He makes sure the box hits the shelf loud enough to be heard across the call. “Happy?”
“For some reason, I don’t actually believe you.”
Dazai narrows his eyes towards the nearest surveillance camera.
Maybe the Eyes of God technology doesn’t exist after all. Hmm.
He tells Odasaku about the produce currently occupying his cart. A bag of peas, cabbage (that an old lady helped him pick out because for all of Dazai’s genius, he never did figure out how to properly pick out his perishable goods), some carrots, ginger, and bean sprouts. He was thinking of trying his hand at some stir fried vegetables tonight.
Not quite fancy for a meal but it’s the thought that matters, right? It’s definitely way better than what he had originally planned for dinner, considering he was eyeing several online food delivery apps on his phone before dragging himself out to do his groceries.
Baby steps are still steps, after all!
“Great. You should buy oyster sauce for that. The sesame oil should be over at...”
“Aisle twelve,” Dazai rolls his eyes. “I’ve been shopping here longer than you, you know? Ah that reminds me! Eleven should be where the—”
“No,” Odasaku practically groans at the other end of the call. “No more packed noodles. Think of your kidneys.”
They’re both functioning well, thank you very much.
Dazai also remembers reading some time ago that it’s technically possible to live with just a kidney. Even the vast internet forums agree. Not that he’d ever let his health deteriorate that badly but he would also never pass up the opportunity to be a little brat.
“Noodles are a staple to my diet. You know that!” Dazai snickers and turns to the corner of the aisle, practically gliding to where his favorite brand is located when,
When he sees Nakahara Chuuya.
Nakahara Chuuya and his auburn hair looking absolutely stunning even under the perpetually horrid fluorescent lighting of the grocery store.
Nakahara Chuuya and his vivid blue eyes expertly reading the package details of some random noodle packet like he’s a food connoisseur and—please, all these stovetop noodles are unhealthy in their own, uncomplicated way. Who is he trying to impress? There is literally nothing worth reading in their nutrient details.
Dazai hasn’t seen him since graduating from university where they both finished their college degrees. Vignettes of memories explode in his head: their scheduled lunch affairs, falling asleep in Chuuya’s studio apartment after late night exam preparations, going to stupid college parties together only to bail out after a few drinks to hang out in the local arcade, the finality of graduation.
With different lives and different career paths, they’re simply two different people off to two different cities, never to see each other again. Mere friends of convenience.
Needless to say, Dazai wasn’t expecting to see Chuuya again in this lifetime.
Odasaku is still saying something on the phone but Dazai can’t make out the words. He’s so fixated on Chuuya—his hair has grown so much longer—and there’s something warm and sticky blooming inside his chest, and it feels absolutely weird and horrible, like he’s maybe having a heart attack.
He should say hi. He’s been staring too long. Rather, the seconds seem so prolonged and it would be really weird if Chuuya suddenly turns and sees Dazai just looking at him. He should probably go talk to him, say something casual, maybe something teasing just to try and see if Chuuya still has that temper that outmatches his height.
He used to be so mouthy, Dazai remembers.
Hmm. But Chuuya might have changed in these past years, right?
For one: he definitely looks different. Gone are his ripped jeans and trademark oversized hoodies, traded for a more sleek and daresay chic outfit. Chuuya admittedly looks nice dressed in a button down white shirt, a nice fitting vest, stylish gloves, and a long black coat that complements the tan one hanging over Dazai’s shoulders.
Aside from the longer hair, Chuuya has also gotten immensely prettier. He always has been pretty, as far as Dazai can remember but now he’s just downright immaculate. Enchanting, even. His skin is practically glowing under the lights.
This just ultimately feels like finding a damn celebrity in his local grocery store.
Chuuya picks up another packet of noodles, blissfully unaware of his audience, and he scrutinizes both food items with so much concentration that his eyebrows actually bunch together and his lips turn into a slight pout.
Dazai’s going to lose his mind. He should really turn back now, forget about this whole scene, and find a new grocery store to shop at.
Because if there even is the smallest chance that their store runs are actually aligned and this is what he has to face for the rest of his life, well, Dazai thinks his poor heart won’t be able to take it.
A cardiac arrest at the ripe age of thirty?
No, thank you.
He has a lot of things to live for, now.
From all the way to Tokyo, Odasaku’s voice cuts through Dazai’s internal dilemma. “ Did something happen?”
Nakahara Chuuya, is what happened.
A maybe-heart attack, is what happened.
The god-awful squeaking of his shopping cart’s wheel, is what happened.
It sounds like some traitorous machine and Dazai only has a split second to either run away and follow Odasaku to Tokyo or pretend that he had just strolled in this part of the grocery store as if he wasn’t spending the past minute staring at his estranged friend from bygone years.
Naturally, Chuuya turns to the sound and Dazai can clearly see the moment recognition floods Chuuya’s face.
Packets of noodles are instantly forgotten. Chuuya’s features have that surprised look to them and then smiles—what the fuck—and Dazai is so surprised that he swiftly drops the phone call and offers a little wave of his hand.
No turning back, now.
“Oho~ Nakahara Chuuya-kun?”
“Dazai?” says Chuuya in what can Dazai only assume as mild disbelief. Something to dissect further later. He always did assume Chuuya has forgotten all about him. “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Were you expecting to see me somewhere else?”
And okay, that’s definitely not his finest attempt at conversation. It sounds so ridiculous that even Dazai inwardly flinches. Still, Chuuya must be pleased to see him because his smile turns into a grin and he bites his lip—again, what the fuck—laughing a little to himself.
Chuuya leans over his shopping cart and then rests a palm over his cheek. “Just didn’t think I’d see you around my neighborhood.”
That definitely sparks Dazai’s interest. From what he remembers, Chuuya moved to Sendai as soon as they graduated. They tried to keep in touch as much as they could; the redhead even sent a couple of pictures of his apartment when he made his way there.
They were fairly updated on each other’s lives for a good while until conversation turned sparse and their friendship naturally fizzled out.
With Chuuya confidently calling this his neighborhood, then that would mean he’s been here in Yokohama for quite a while.
He briefly wonders when and why Chuuya upped and left Sendai, and then he’s mildly thrown off because this is the first time he catches himself actually interested in someone else’s life without so much as an ulterior motive.
“This is definitely the first time I saw your face lurking around here, though.”
“Lurking?” Chuuya laughs, throwing his head back a little. “Why do you sound so territorial?”
Dazai wonders if he just experienced his very first heart attack at the sound of Chuuya’s laughter.
“Maybe I just don’t like sharing my favorite grocery store with someone like you.”
Chuuya tries to swipe at his leg with a kick. Classic. Dazai, still apparently attuned with his unconventional way of communication after all these years, evades effortlessly.
“Nice place you got here, then.” He concedes after a few more failed attempts, and also after they receive a few judgmental stares from the elderlies passing by. “Anywhere else I should look into to enjoy the full experience?”
Dazai turns thoughtful. “You should see my wine collection down at aisle seventeen.”
Chuuya actually looks interested and Dazai has never felt more grateful for having this whole place mapped out in his head. He continues, “You’d be glad to know I also have the finest selection of cheese somewhere tucked in here.”
Playing the part of an interested customer, Chuuya nods in consideration. “Hmm, what about your crackers?”
Dazai nods the way advertising agents do in the home shopping network he likes to sometimes watch. “Only the best kinds, of course.”
Chuuya bats his eyelashes innocently at him. “Your place seems interesting, then. Mind showing me around?”
Dazai’s heart is suddenly a restless rabbit inside his chest.
He laughs and sweeps his bangs away from his eyes. “Welcome to the best part of Yokohama.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Chuuya nods his head. “I was a little anxious when I moved here, you know. I’m glad to see a familiar face.”
Dazai tilts his head in askance.
“I got a job offer as a museum curator,” Chuuya says, shrugging. Dazai leans a little closer, interested. “Got to follow my dreams and some shit like that.”
“Of course,” Dazai says. He briefly remembers this exact conversation when they were both in senior year and getting ready to face the world. Something akin to pride blooms inside his chest. After all, there isn’t quite like achieving one's childhood dreams. “It’s not quite living your life if you don’t end up doing what you love, right?”
Chuuya grins smugly about having his words repeated back to him. “What about you? What have you been up to?”
“Teaching the wonders of modern literature, creative writing, and some touches of history,” says Dazai. “I’ve been burdened with the task of enriching the future generation’s brains and all that.”
‘Burdened’, he says but he’s sure Chuuya catches the tiny smile he couldn’t contain. He even acknowledges it with a knowing look.
Though it seems he hasn’t shed his nature for teasing.
“Makes me wonder what kind of professor you are.” Chuuya smirks. “You definitely seem like the type to give them absolute hell. Isn’t that right, Dazai-sensei ?”
Okay and maybe Dazai’s brain actually short circuits this time. He’s also convinced that he’s currently having a stroke rather than a plain heart attack after all.
They’re absolutely flirting, right?
Right?
Because if the local news will later display a picture of him plastered on the ground, at least it’s the byproduct of mutual teasing.
He can almost picture the headlines: ‘Local man falls for redhead. Literally!’
So he’s a sucker for pretty and quick-witted men, sue him.
Present medical condition or otherwise, Dazai shoots his most playful grin. “Not to brag but I’m quite sure I’m their favorite.”
“That is bragging,” Chuuya laughs brightly and Dazai makes a mental note to pay Yosano a visit to the hospital to get his health checked.
He definitely has to check in with Naomi and her horoscope column because he needs to see what fate has in store for him for the rest of the week. Hopefully the stars are also inclined to bless him with Chuuya’s number because there is absolutely no way he’s going to let this opportunity pass.
Dazai is fumbling for his phone from the depths of his coat pockets when the planets then decide to misalign or something because this happens:
“Papa?”
The voice sounds small, soft, and utterly confused, and when Dazai looks down, he sees a little kid looking up at Chuuya with round, gray eyes, little hands clutching the tail ends of Chuuya’s coat.
Chuuya folds to his knees completely forgetting about Dazai, and he says with gentleness, “Yes, mon amour? What is it?”
Dazai is staring at a little French kid. Papa—the kid called Chuuya papa.
The kid pouts and then shows the several colorful noodle packets he managed to gather in his small arms.
“Can we try these? Please?” He flutters his eyelashes purposefully and Dazai thinks that this must be the most endearingly manipulative technique he has ever witnessed.
Brutal.
He’s definitely going to try this one.
The things you pick up on in the grocery store, huh?
Chuuya is apparently an expert negotiator. He manages to convince the kid to return two of the six noodle packets. Impressive. He didn’t even crack under the deceptive puppy dog eyes! He takes the remaining items and then dumps them in their cart before sweeping the kid’s hair away from his face.
The kid still grins triumphant, cheeks puffed up with unadulterated joy.
Maybe that was his plan all along? Even more impressive.
Dazai looks at Chuuya’s little French kid that he has with his maybe-French partner, and his heart mysteriously sinks to his stomach.
The stroke also perhaps intensifies.
Still, he is always fueled by curiosity so he shoots the boy his friendliest smile. “Oh? Who is this?”
Chuuya pats the kid’s head in an encouraging manner.
He grumbles and fights the urge to hide behind Chuuya’s leg. “My name is Ryuunosuke.”
“Hi, Ryuunosuke-kun. My name is Dazai. It’s nice to meet you.”
Ryuunosuke studies him the way little kids do when they’re a little too wary of adults. He levels Dazai with narrowed eyes and then he speaks up: “Okay. You can go away now.”
Alright. Another medically related question: is it possible to have a stroke and a seizure at the same time?
Dazai actually thinks he’s pretty immune to humiliation. Yet here he is, at the mercies of a brutally straightforward child brutally stomping over him in front of Chuuya, of all people . Running away to Tokyo suddenly sounds very appealing right now.
Maybe Odasaku needs a roommate? Just like the good old days, right?
Chuuya tries to save Dazai from the sudden and violent jab but Ryuunosuke is apparently not finished with his tirade. “Please go away and leave us alone. Papa and I don’t need a man like you.”
Too stunned to actually say anything, Dazai just stands there. That must have been the wrong decision too because Ryuunosuke absolutely takes his silence with distaste. “I said go away, mister zombie motherfuc—“
Chuuya spins so fast Dazai thinks he might end up snapping his neck. Then he gathers his son to his side, effectively shutting him up by pressing the boy close to Chuuya’s coat.
Then he exhales a steady breath, kneels down again to meet the kid’s gaze. “Hey. What did we say about using those kind of words?”
Ryuunosuke huffs petulantly and crosses his arms over his chest. The sight reminds Dazai of Chuuya in their college years when he got a little too petulant.
Indeed: Like father, like son
“That we only say them to people who deserve to hear it.”
Chuuya sputters indignantly and his ears are turning urgently red.
To himself, he grumbles: “Okay maybe I set the bar too low. That one’s on me, I guess.”
He recovers quickly with a fake cough and says, “Dazai-san wasn’t doing anything bad, though? He was being polite and introducing himself.”
He says something in French that Dazai cannot fully comprehend. They switch their positions so Chuuya can shield his son from Dazai’s curious gaze. Then, they continue their conversation quietly.
Whatever they’re talking about, it must definitely be a reprimand on Chuuya’s part. Telling by his body language, Ryuunosuke’s looks appropriately scolded. Chuuya says a few more things in the foreign language and they’re suddenly hugging. A few beats later Chuuya presses a soft kiss on Ryuunosuke’s forehead.
It’s such a tender sight. Dazai never expected to see Chuuya so gentle like this. He finds himself thinking about the many times he’s seen parents scold their children in public without so much as a consideration of their kids’ embarrassment. Where there should have been yelling and humiliating tears, as he was also subjected to when he was a child himself, there’s only gentle conversation and patient explanation.
Dazai is in awe.
Turning back to Dazai, he says. “See? Dazai-san is harmless. Right, Dazai?”
“Sure,” Dazai says with a wave of his hand. “Not a single frightening bone in my body,” he says with a tiny wink directed at the kid. Still, Ryuunosuke is undeterred and unimpressed. He blankly stares at Dazai.
He very much resembles a wary guard dog ready to attack at the first sign of danger.
Dazai briefly considers stepping back a little.
(He does.)
“‘Kay. Sorry.” Ryuunosuke mumbles reluctantly.
Chuuya ruffles his son’s hair and offers an apologetic smile at Dazai. “He doesn’t trust people easily,” he says. Something tells him this isn’t the first time Chuuya has to explain this sort of thing. “Ryuunosuke is just very protective of me. Isn’t that right, mon amour?”
Ryuunosuke hugs Chuuya’s leg.
“Charming,” Dazai attempts at playful banter but he also tucks in that little information in his brain.
Is this a stranger-related fear? Or is there a particular reason why Ryuunosuke would be cautious of other people? Why wouldn’t they ‘need’ a ‘man like him’?
Questions to be dissected later.
For now he’s trying not to get even more hated by Chuuya’s kid. Not a task he thought he would be undertaking in the middle of his spontaneous grocery run but such is the nature of life’s surprises. A little part of him is disheartened though since Dazai has always been good with kids. Even the prickly ones find him charming, at least to some extent!
How is this one practically immune?
Ryuunosuke also seems very determined to get away from Dazai because he tugs at Chuuya’s hand urgently and says, “Papa, are we finished? Can we go home soon?”
Right. Little French kid, with his maybe-French partner waiting for them in their probably ridiculously French-inspired house. Chuuya smiles, almost apologetic, and that stabs a little right at Dazai’s chest.
“Well, that’s my cue.”
So: ‘Local man falls from heartbreak!’
How fitting. Dazai resists the urge to groan out loud. Instead he says, “It’s good seeing you again, Chuuya~”
Chuuya waves goodbye and turns to leave with his son but then he pauses to look back at Dazai with a tiny smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I’m glad I bumped into you,” he says with a warm flush on his cheeks. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
It’s impossible not to feel hopeful and floaty at that, and it’s ridiculously stupid, Dazai knows, but the feelings are there, too raw and too heavy, that he ends up saying the first thing that comes to his mind. “Yeah. Yokohama isn’t as big as you think.”
Chuuya laughs and then the ugly fluorescent lights look like a halo behind his head, and Dazai feels so breathless that he stands there a little while longer even after Chuuya and Ryuunosuke left. He only comes back to his senses when Odasaku’s custom ringtone steals his attention.
The day bleeds on and his thoughts never leave Chuuya. He doesn’t even realize he forgot to actually buy noodles until he gets back to his apartment.
Breaking news: Local man momentarily loses sense of self after a (re?)meet cute but hey, at least he cooks the stir fry vegetables perfectly.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
It’s on an unassuming Thursday morning two weeks past their first encounter when Dazai next sees Chuuya.
It’s serendipitous, really, since he hadn’t even wanted to get up so early in the first place but he was growing hungry and the taste of his own sleepworn mouth was getting increasingly disgusting with each passing second, so Dazai relents to the screeching of his morning alarm and makes quick work of his day.
There’s a park near his apartment that Dazai likes to frequent on good days like this. Westward is his usual bench tucked under a large tree that offers a nice view of the gardens, where he likes to sit and check his students’ paperwork or simply to watch other people’s day unfold before he actually needs to leave for the university campus.
Today he breaks routine because there on his spot sits one Nakahara Chuuya in all his blazing glory.
Rabbits come stamping on his heart again and he tries to convince himself that it’s because of his coffee.
He should mind his own business but it’s hard to do so when Chuuya looks absolutely animated in his frustration on what seems to be the most distressing phone call of his life. His hands are waving about and his face is theatrical in its annoyance. A frown so pronounced is printed on his face.
How he manages to avoid getting wrinkles remains a damn mystery in itself.
Chuuya finally notices him approaching and Dazai takes great pleasure in the surprised look on Chuuya's face. He waves his free hand, holds up a finger, mouthing Wait a moment, and continues with his conversation on the phone.
He’s speaking in rapid French again. Dazai is only able to catch on a few words. “Ane-san, you love spending time with the kids. Hey, stop laughing! You know I am not spoiling them.”
A pause. Chuuya pouts, lower lip comically jutting out. He’s a reflection of his teenage years. “Oui, love you too, talk to you soon.”
Chuuya slumps and tilts his head back to hang in defeat. Dazai sits beside him, careful to keep a little distance between them. “Eventful morning?”
“You can say that.” He groans and then faces Dazai with an amused face. He raises his eyebrow, just a little teasing. “You’re right. Yokohama really isn’t that big. Unless…?”
Dazai huffs, not inclined to the insinuation. Serendipity! This is fate’s work! He definitely is not following Chuuya around! He even resisted the urge to check all his social media accounts because Dazai is not a creepy stalker who suddenly developed a weird fascination with his old college friend.
“Well, you’re everywhere.” He shoots back. “What are you even doing here? This is my spot, you know.”
While one can argue that public spaces are free game, Dazai also does get weirdly territorial over his spots. He’s a creature of habit, okay, and disruptions to his routine leaves him mortified.
So why doesn’t the terror come this time?
In fact, Chuuya sitting on the bench is a welcome new thing. Exciting. Nice, even.
Chuuya scoots closer until their shoulders touch and then he uses his full weight to push Dazai to the far end of the bench. Their points of contact burn and Dazai’s heart comes to a violent stutter—and yep, it’s definitely not the caffeine.
“I got here first so you should leave. That way I can have this place all to myself before I have to leave for work.”
“No way. You’re the one being a public nuisance, you know~” Dazai huffs and jabs his pointy elbow at Chuuya’s ribs. “Ruining the peace and quiet with his loud phone call! I’m sure you scared the birds away.”
Chuuya rubs at his side. He turns a little pink from guilt. “Shit, was I that loud?”
“Very,” Dazai lies because teasing Chuuya hasn’t lost its novelty even after all these years. The way the tips of his ears turn pink from embarrassment is as endearing as it is funny.
Still, curiosity gets the better of him and he comments, “Must have been an important phone call though.”
Chuuya exhales and runs a gloved hand through his hair. His braid comes loose and it falls like spun silk over his shoulder. “Kouyou—you remember my sister? I asked if she could watch over the kids this afternoon when they get back from school. Their ballet and violin classes were cancelled today because of course that just had to happen, so they don’t have their afternoon activities to keep them preoccupied. They can take care of themselves well but Ryuunosuke has been acting a little… off. I just worry for him, and I don’t like leaving them alone at times like this. Paternal instincts, maybe?”
He pinches his nose in quiet contemplation. “Well, you know how it is.”
Fatherhood seems difficult. Even more so that both Chuuya and his maybe-French partner seem to be occupied with their own careers. Still, Chuuya looks radiant even with the burdens that come with being a dad. Even more admirable is how he doesn’t sound resentful or bitter about having to worry about these little details and his eyes are always so full of love with just the slight mention of his kids.
While he can’t quite fully understand what Chuuya feels, Dazai does remember flashes of his own pitiful childhood and the too-quiet afternoons spent by himself with no one to turn to when he needed help. Even the joy that came from simple companionship was a lost concept to him when he was young.
Bland afternoons that just melted together. It wasn't fun. It’s the kind of loneliness that sticks with you until you grow up.
He never thought himself empathic but working in the academe and being surrounded by teenagers of different upbringing really have softened him throughout the years.
Above all, it definitely is a jarring experience to see a student and have reflections of his past self staring right at him.
Nipping loneliness at its bud—if Dazai could, then he would.
The beginnings of an idea come brewing in his head. “I finish teaching at around three in the afternoon. If you really need someone to keep an eye on them.” He gestures vaguely to himself.
Chuuya is quick to invade his space and oh, Dazai’s almost forgotten how bright and all-encompassing his eyes are this close. “You’re not shitting me? Are you sure?”
Dazai smiles and tilts his head to the side. “Of course. I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” He swipes Chuuya’s phone with practiced ease and punches in his number. “Text me your address. I’ll be there.”
“They’ll be home by three-thirty. I’ll call the house phone to let Ryuunosuke know,” Chuuya exhales and starts rambling. “Thank you, Dazai. I owe you. Seriously. How much should I charge you? Hourly? What about—”
Dazai dismisses him with a wave of his hand. And then his mouth slips, “Why don’t you just take me out for coffee?”
Chuuya pauses and this blinks at him. His eyes are crystal and wide and he bites his lip, nervous and shocked.
Right. French-speaking kids with his maybe-French partner that he lives with in their maybe-French inspired house that he’ll get to see later. Dazai amends quickly: “Friends don’t have to pay for favors!”
“Right. Friends.” Chuuya smiles after a pause and then nods. “Okay. Sounds like a deal. Thanks. Shit, I’ll buy you as much coffee as you want. Seriously.”
He stands and then dusts himself. “I have to get to work,” says Chuuya. “I’ll text you. And you will let me know if anything bad happens, okay?”
As if he’d let anything happen. Dazai likes to think he’s a professional at taking care of children. He’s a teacher. It’s literally in his job description.
Alright—maybe the emotional depth and mental maturity of university students are not quite at par with toddlers but Dazai is pretty confident in his skills. Sure, he and Ryuunosuke started at the wrong foot (the grocery incident haunted him for days) but here’s the perfect opportunity to mend that!
Besides, Odasaku has trusted him enough with his three younger siblings on multiple occasions. The worst that ever happened was Sakura badly scraping her knees. No broken bones at all. In the many years he acted as their babysitter they never had to take a trip to the hospital nor made unsavory calls to poison control.
An admirable feat, if he could say so himself.
How hard can watching over Chuuya’s kids be?
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The verdict: it’s technically not that bad.
But they’re not exactly angels either, that’s for sure.
The afternoon unfolds as such:
True to his words, Dazai comes to Chuuya’s house as soon as his last teaching class ends. Chuuya’s instructions over the phone were easy to understand and funnily enough, they realize that they’re living mere four streets away from each other.
He takes the earliest train back. Dazai navigates the neighborhood easily and he finds himself standing in front of a two-storey house.
Nakahara reads in a neat kanji nameplate at the front and—ah, it’s not as European as he imagined.
It’s Ryuunosuke who answers the door. And then he promptly shuts it when he sees Dazai on the other side. “No one’s home. Please go away.”
That’s definitely Interesting Event Number One.
He hears the sounds of shuffling from inside followed by the locks unlatching for the second time. Ryuunosuke is then replaced by a little girl—this must be Gin—and she blinks up at Dazai innocently enough. Her brother is a few steps behind her, still glaring, true to his guard dog persona.
Gin smiles. There’s an adorable gap between her two front teeth. “Hello, Dazai-san. Papa said you were coming over but Ryuu and I don’t want you here. I’m going to call the police to arrest you now.”
Not even three minutes apart and he’s presented with Interesting Event Number Two.
I promise you Gin’s a sweetheart, Chuuya texted earlier. Sure.
Or maybe Chuuya has to re-evaluate his standards because Gin is clearly a bigger gremlin than her brother. And here he was, thinking Ryuunosuke was the eccentric one.
Dazai is not one to be intimidated by little children though. He smirks. “I’m going to tell your papa you didn’t let me in! You know what happens to children who misbehave and disobey their parents, right?”
Here comes Interesting Event Number Three:
Gin swallows and shuffles on her spot. All the color suddenly drains from her face. Her voice falters. “They... get sent away?”
Interesting Event Number Three-Point-Five:
Ryuunosuke’s bravado also falls when he hears the wobble in Gin’s voice. “Papa won’t do that. I think.”
Wait—what? Dazai stumbles for words.
He has to fix this fast. “Children don’t get ice cream for dinner, that’s what happens. Chuuya did buy a lot of ice cream, too. Oh, what a shame?”
Bribery. Great. Not even five minutes and he’s already using dirty tricks.
Chuuya is going to skin him alive.
Surprisingly and thankfully enough, it works like a charm. Gin’s eyes widen when she looks at Ryuunosuke and then back to Dazai, “We’re having ice cream for dinner? Papa said that?”
Well they definitely are now. Dazai shoots a quick text to Chuuya and hopes he doesn’t question the sudden request. He adds all the pleading emoticons he can think of and prays for a miracle or two.
With the kids distracted by the promise of dessert, Dazai steps inside the house and locks the door with a quiet click.
The walls are painted cream and the living room is decorated with a few potted plants and a fancy painting hanging behind a couch. There’s a bunch of what seemed to be family albums stacked on one of the tables—so, they’re the sentimental type. Also taped all over the refrigerator are the kids’ magnum opus of all mediums. Crayons, charcoal, watercolor. The happy couple obviously dotes on their children all the time, ugly drawings or otherwise.
There’s a piano tucked to a corner and next to it is a neat bookshelf lined with a mix of classic and children’s books. Dazai can easily picture Chuuya reading aloud to Ryuunosuke and Gin, and maybe he even does all the voice impersonations to make the stories more lively. He definitely seems like the type to go over and beyond for his children’s happiness.
It’s a very cozy house, perfect for a picture-perfect family. Dazai finds himself smiling a little at that thought. Chuuya deserves just as much.
“I’m here to keep an eye on you both,” he explains as he carefully sits on the couch.
Ryuunosuke snaps. “Obviously. Why else would you be here?” He pauses thoughtfully and then points to the kitchen. “There’s… water and snacks in the kitchen. Make yourself comfortable. Or something.”
For all his obvious apprehension, at least Ryuunosuke remains somewhat accommodating and hospitable. Dazai is impressed. Chuuya must have drilled such courtesies on them.
The kids decide to ignore him but they do shoot him cursory glances every once in a while. For what purpose, he can’t figure it out yet, but it does seem like they’re silently asking for adult supervision over a few things. At least they respect him even when they don’t particularly like him.
He shakes his head when Gin raises the TV remote and waves it in his direction. Chuuya’s instructions were clear—no media consumption until all their homework was finished. Gins lets out a sheepish heh. Cute. Dazai appreciates the effort to slip in extra TV hours though.
Ryuunosuke shuffles a few pieces of paper and then he sits by the low table, tugging Gin beside him. They work on their english and mathematics side by side, Ryuunosuke taking it upon himself to teach his little sister. It’s adorable, the way his little tongue sticks out when he concentrates hard on their problem sets.
Dazai snaps several pictures for Chuuya, who automatically sends a barrage of heart emojis.
What a sap.
Also: what a very energetic texter.
Now this, Dazai appreciates.
A little while later, he starts to notice Ryuunosuke going quiet and making confused noises to himself.
Dazai sits opposite them. “Do you need help?”
Ryuunosuke covers their papers with his arm but Dazai can very clearly see how the paper has almost thinned out from constant friction from the eraser.
“No, thank you.” Ryuunosuke forces out the niceties. “Please do not talk to me,” he says as if he hadn’t made his absolute distaste for Dazai clear enough.
Well, that just won’t work. He made it a personal mission to have the kid genuinely smile at him at least once today.
Dazai rests his cheek against his palm and tuts. “Not even if I tell you that I’m a teacher?” In the arts, sure, but the kids don’t have to know that. It’s not like he doesn’t remember his basic arithmetics and subject-verb agreement rules anyway.
“I don’t care,” Ryuunosuke bites.
Gin is more amenable to the situation. She pouts at her brother. “Onii-san. Papa said we should always ask for help when we need it. Let’s finish early so we can play already.” She drawls out her vowels and Ryuunosuke must have a severely soft spot for his sister because he suddenly puts aside all his distrust and then pushes the worksheet towards Dazai.
He takes a pencil begrudgingly offered by the boy and begins to run the questions with them step-by-step. Teaching grade schoolers is definitely notches different from dealing with university students but Dazai finds the satisfaction in watching them finally understand the lesson similarly rewarding. In front of him, Gin is enthusiastically asking follow-up questions and writing down notes in her notebook. Ryuunosuke is a little more guarded but the way he is nodding and repeating Dazai’s words to himself is just as endearing.
They’re at the final page of their homework when Dazai makes the grave mistake of asking about Chuuya. “So, what time does your dad usually finish with work?”
Ryuunosuke eyes him suspiciously.
Gin, for her part, scowls. She doesn't look up when she answers. “Dad hasn’t been home in a long time. Papa gets home just before dinner, though.”
The different terms don't escape Dazai’s notice.
Ryuunosuke doesn’t say anything but he does elbow his sister on her ribs gently, if not a little scolding. “We don’t see dad anymore,” says Gin despite the warning and now Dazai feels horrible for asking because—holy shit?! Is their maybe-French dad fucking dead?
Interesting Event Number Something.
This is a prime example of where his curiosity does not help anyone at all. It was honestly a good natured question. He was just wondering what time he’ll see Chuuya again! Dazai really didn’t mean to learn about Chuuya’s deceased husband this way—god, Odasaku better be prepared to listen to his entire monologue later.
And proofread his apology letter.
Only, Chuuya’s maybe-French maybe-dead maybe-partner is apparently still alive because Gin continues: “He stealed—“
“Stole,” Ryuunosuke corrects and lightly taps a pencil on her forehead.
“Oops. Dad stole all of papa’s money from the bank and left. There were a lot of police people involved. He’s a real motherfucker.“
She says everything so stoically that Dazai almost misses the curse word.
Interesting Event Number Uhh...
Ryuunosuke slaps his palm over his little sister’s mouth. He looks distressed, or maybe uncomfortable at the sudden seriousness of the topic. Or maybe shocked at the fact that his little sister just delivered the word ‘motherfucker’ unfazed. Because Dazai surely is.
“Oh my gosh. Shut up, Gin.”
“Hey!” Gin lightly pushes her brother away and scowls at him. “That wasn’t nice!”
“What you said wasn’t nice, either!”
“I wasn’t talking about you or papa.” She defends herself.
“Why did you lick my hand? Now I have saliva all over.”
“Well, why did you put your hand on my mouth in the first place?” She huffs and sticks her tongue out childishly at him.
Dazai is a little… preoccupied. He begins to dissect the information over and over in his head. It explains quite a lot but it also raises just as many questions.
Is that why Chuuya left Sendai and moved here to Yokohama?
Is his maybe-French ex-husband in jail for theft?
How long has it been since then?
He’s distracted until Gin tugs his coat and then pushes their workbooks toward his direction. It seems they’ve managed to solve their little squabble. She blinks pleadingly up at him. “We’re done, Dazai-san!”
He momentarily lets go of his questions and checks their answers one last time. It’s a productive afternoon, at least. “Okay, great job on finishing your homework, both of you! You can go play now.”
Gin preens at the compliment. “Merci, Dazai-san.”
In a (very) horrible attempt, Dazai says in butchered French: “De rien.”
It sounds terrible even to his own ears but it must have been the right thing to say because both kids turn to him looking absolutely fascinated, like Dazai has stars for eyes.
In unison: “You can talk like us?!”
(No, not really.)
“Yes…?”
Passable enough as a tourist, Dazai supposes.
It’s all thanks to Basic French, taken during his freshman year—he recalls a few words and sentences, the vulgar ones more vividly of course, although he doubts they’re appropriate at the moment.
Learning words unrelated to the lesson plan were courtesy of Chuuya’s quiet murmuring that he eventually picked up on. They’d been seatmates for that class and it’s also where he first met the redhead.
Nakahara Chuuya, who enlisted at a beginner’s class as if he didn’t live in Paris before moving to Japan, only so he could effortlessly raise his cumulative grade and upgrade to full scholarship.
What a terrible, scheming bastard.
Although Dazai supposes it was useful that they eventually became friends. He doubts he would have aced that class without Chuuya’s extra help.
Gin and Ryuunosuke share a telepathically dubious look between each other before they launch their very own language class. In under an hour, they manage to unearth Dazai’s almost-forgotten knowledge on telling the time, counting, and basic directional skills. It awfully felt like an oral exam except this time the professors are more judgmental than the norm.
At one point, he’s pretty sure Ryuunosuke is hurling all kinds of insults at him and pretending they’re compliments. Dazai isn’t going to use any of those new words, just to be safe.
Interesting Event Number Whatever.
Kids.
In any case, this is how Chuuya finds them when gets home: Dazai is on the floor with the bandages around his wrist decorated with gold star stickers and sad faces, and his two little spawns villainously cackling at him.
No, really. Ryuunosuke is even pointing at him as he laughs. See? Villainously. Well—mission accomplished, Dazai supposes. At least he’s smiling. Next time he vows he’ll make Ryuunosuke laugh with him rather than at him.
Baby steps, baby steps.
Gin has thankfully toned down her antics. At least by a few levels, anyway.
“Tu es si bêt,” Gin giggles and pokes Dazai’s cheek.
Ryuunosuke translates with a mischievous grin. “She said you’re so smart.”
“Na-uh,” Dazai sticks his tongue out. “I’m not going to fall for that one again! Tu es puant! Hah! I learned that one from your papa!”
“Did you now?” Chuuya greets, shrugging off his coat. They didn't even realize he's back already.
The kids gasp and quickly abandon Dazai when they see Chuuya. They come running up to him like a pair of ducklings and proceed to shower him with hugs and kisses.
Chuuya gathers Gin in his arms and places a gentle hand atop Ryuunosuke’s head. Looking down at Dazai, he pushes his hair with his free hand and says, “Hey, there. If you don’t have plans tonight, you’re welcome to eat with us.”
And Dazai is momentarily breathless—Chuuya looks beautiful from this angle, smiling down on him with lights casting long shadows on his cheeks and his hair looking like orange silk spilling over his shoulder. “Sure,” he says past the honey in his throat and wonders what he has to do to have Chuuya keep looking at him like that.
Enchanting. Chuuya simply is enchanting.
Chuuya makes quick work of their dinner while Dazai helps the kids set up the table. Gin seems to have finally warmed up to him, even going as far as asking Dazai to sit beside her during dinner. It might be partly because she wants to continue making fun of his poor French pronunciation but he considers it as a win nonetheless.
However, Ryuunosuke has reverted back to glaring at him every time he stands a little too close to Chuuya. From under the table, his little legs relentlessly swing at him every few seconds.
“Behave, sweetheart.” Chuuya scolds with a light pinch to his nose.
“Sorry,” the little devil says (quite unapologetically so, Dazai notes) and shoots a menacing glare at Dazai’s direction.
While their less than violent stare-off is happening, Chuuya is busy putting a few pieces of vegetables onto Gin’s plate. She grimaces at the colorful display, of which Dazai can relate to, but she marches on and takes a few brave bites. Chuuya rewards her with an encouraging smile.
No forced feeding. No arguments. Dazai wonders if this is what a real childhood looks like. His awe quickly transforms to reverence.
Clueless to Dazai’s enlightenment, Chuuya shoots them all a knowing look. “Did the three of you have fun today?”
Despite the break in routine, Dazai finds himself saying yes. It felt like a breath of fresh air because loath as he may be to admit it, his days have been growing eerily monotonous and simply tiring. He wouldn’t call it ‘empty’ but it sometimes gets too close to that.
Babysitting offered some change in pace. Devious as they are, both kids are charming in their own endearing way.
It’s like hanging out with two mini-Chuuyas except they don’t yell as much.
Gin and Ryuunosuke go on a tangent about their day at school. He and Chuuya take turns asking them questions to keep them engaged, and this is definitely the liveliest dinner he’s had in so long.
It is far from being a perfect meal nor is it the most sophisticated but there is something profoundly satisfying about sharing a table and having people ask about his day, what he’s been up to, and most of all, his favorite type of dinosaur and flowers.
Dazai wants to say Thank you for dinner, when can I see you and the kids again? but he doesn’t want to be too forward too soon so he stamps down the budding want in his chest and lets himself be content. Chuuya has been welcoming so far—too nice and too kind as always, and Dazai doesn’t want to ruin that just because of a tiny crush.
And oh Perfect. Would you look at that?
Interesting, Existentially Shattering Event Number Ummm…?
Admittedly, it’s awkward realizing that he might have feelings while he’s having dinner with Chuuya and his kids.
How embarrassing.
He tries to push the thought aside but he must have made a face because Chuuya suddenly stops whatever he’s saying and turns to look at him. “Oh my god Dazai, are you okay? Are you choking?!”
“No,” says Dazai but he accepts the glass of water anyway. “The food was a little spicy.” Which is the least convincing lie that has come out of his mouth because they’re currently having steamed fish and vegetables for dinner, and now Chuuya’s looking at him weirdly.
Great. He’ll have to make a trip to Yosano’s clinic again. Maybe his not-stroke two weeks ago fried his brain mental functions either way.
Gin comes to his rescue. “Dazai-san should eat ice cream!” And then she adds thoughtfully: “Can Ryuu-kun and me have ice cream?”
A sucker for his children, Chuuya takes the treats from the fridge and it keeps them preoccupied for the rest of the meal time. Thankfully, Chuuya didn't question the emergency ice cream text earlier.
The night eventually lulls and Dazai offers to help with the dishes, which earns him an incredulous look. Definitely a nod to his less than favorable attitude from years ago in university, Chuuya snorts. “Who are you and what have you done to Dazai?”
“People change, you know!”
“Sure,” he says dubiously.
Dazai at least manages to clean the dishes well. Ha, that should prove him wrong.
A little while later Chuuya herds his children to their bedroom. “Wash up and go get ready for bed, okay? I’ll be with you soon. I’ll just send Dazai-san off. Say bye-bye.”
Gin waves while Ryuunosuke sends him yet another icy glare. Dazai is sure that there’s an unspoken threat and a declaration of war hanging from his lips.
“They hate me,” Dazai says dramatically as soon as they step outside.
Chuuya hums and playfully bumps their shoulders. “They take a lot after me, did I tell you that?”
“You’re horrible,” says Dazai with a fake sniff. “But thank you for inviting me for dinner. I almost forgot how well Chuuya can cook~”
“And thank you for watching over the kids,” Chuuya lets out a relieved sigh. “I just didn’t want them to be alone when something felt wrong.”
Dazai blinks at him. “You’re a good father,” he says eventually. “They’re lucky to have you.” It’s a loaded statement but it feels right to say it anyway.
Chuuya smiles and Dazai’s chest explodes with a million different emotions at the same time. “And you’re a great babysitter.”
“Well,” Dazai starts and fiddles with the button on his coat. He doesn’t get nervous often but Chuuya has always been the deviant factor in Dazai’s realm. “If you ever need someone to look after them again, you have my number.”
Chuuya stares at him blankly. “You’re kidding, right? You’re a professional, Dazai. I don’t want to impose.”
“I’ll text you my schedule,” Dazai waves his concerns away with an easy smile. “So we can work something out. I won’t be available every day but at least let me know if there’s anything I can help out with.”
Chuuya sputters a little but he recovers quickly and says: “I haven’t even bought your first coffee yet!”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dazai says easily because he definitely doesn’t.
Chuuya considers the offer for a moment. He must need the extra help though because he lets go of his reservations and eventually nods. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Okay. I’ll text you, then.”
Dazai steps away but not before bumping their shoulders together again. He turns to leave, a private and content smile to himself when Chuuya shouts, “See you, Dazai!”
He raises his hand to wave goodbye, and finally heads home.