Chapter Text
Dazai walked through the fields of his campus with a large- stupidly large- canvas tote slung over his shoulder. It was, like, bigger than himself and ridiculously heavy. Seriously, though. Who thought it would be a good idea to force art majors to carry around massive canvases everywhere?
As he trudged along, Dazai couldn’t help but glance at the other students around him. Some were carrying their own bags, filled with books and laptops, while others juggled coffee cups and snacks. It was a wonder how they managed with such small bags—he envied their seemingly effortless ability to navigate campus life.
Anyway, Dazai hastily made his way through the campus with one destination in mind: Soseki’s. His favourite- totally not because of how close it was to his apartment and totally because the owner was super chill- place to buy art supplies.
And today…Dazai rubbed his hands together mischievously. They had a sale. Everything was 50% off. AKA: heaven on earth for poor, broke, struggling art students who spent all their money on stupid tuition and antidepressants.
As Dazai exited the college grounds, he caught a glimpse of the small red and white sign labelled ‘Soseki’s’. Excitedly, he picked up the pace, and didn’t stop to apologise when his massive canvas tote bag whacked someone in the face and he heard a disgruntled “Ow!” in return. (If anything, he was more worried about his precious artwork.)
Soseki’s was a small, hidden store which you would probably miss if you hadn’t been there before. The windows were covered with random fliers and missing pet posters, ( Have you seen this dog?!) because the owner didn’t bother to take them down.
Two concrete steps led up to the glass door which Dazai opened in expectation, followed by the beeping of the door.
Instantaneously, the smell of paint and fresh canvases filled his nostrils, and he let out a deep sigh. It was a scent he cherished, a blend of creativity and potential that sparked excitement in his soul. Banners hung from the ceiling, advertising the current 50% off sale. Random westerner music also played from the store’s speakers, which was quite odd, as the owner, which Dazai had gotten to know quite well from his frequent visits, usually played classical music.
Eh, he thought, shrugging his shoulders. Dazai walked down one of the aisles towards the paints section, grabbing three artliners from a basket on his way. The store was nearly empty, which led him to wonder how the fuck hadn’t it gone out of business yet?
Whatever. Whether the owner was some secret rich millionaire who ran a guilty pleasure art store in their spare time, it didn’t matter. What mattered, however…was the price of these paints!
Dazai’s eyes lit up as he scanned the paint shelf. $3 per tube? With a buy three get two free deal? Sign him up!
Contemplating which paints to buy, And boy- if he wasn’t poor as fuck, it would be everthing- Dazai looked so focused you would think he was making a much more important decision. (Though the brunet would argue that yes, paint choices are very important! )
And plus, if you’re choosing to spend the remainder of your little cash on paint instead of dinner, wise decisions must be made.
Unfortunately, however, he was interrupted when a hand landed on his shoulder and a voice from behind queried, “Can I help you with anything?”
Dazai jumped at the touch, whipping his head around to look at the suspect in question. Expecting some old random, his voice caught in his throat when he was met with striking blue eyes, ginger hair, and a boy who looked no older than he was.
Although…Dazai looked him up and down…he was quite short. Maybe he was a bit younger. 18? 19? Either way that didn’t brush off the fact that his stranger had touched him and asked him a question. When he was oh so busy with other things.
Annoyed, Dazai snapped, “What?”
The ginger, who was not expecting such a blunt reply, blinked slowly. He was- Dazai observed- wearing the store’s uniform. An employee. “What do you mean, what?” he snapped back.
Ah. So the employee has a temper.
“Sorry,” Dazai’s lip curled upwards. “I just wasn’t expecting someone so small to be able to reach my shoulder! Also, didn’t your parents teach you that it’s rude to touch others without their consent?”
“Small?” the employee hissed. “Who the fuck are you calling small? I’m 22!”
Dazai placed a hand over his mouth in mock surprise. “Oh my. And here I was, thinking you were still a teenager.”
“Why you-!” the redhead, obviously just now realising he was at work and on the job and had to be nice to customers, or else, ‘ I’m gonna cut your pay!’, cut himself short. “Ugh. Just, do you need anything or not?”
“I need you to grow taller so I don't have to look down when I talk.”
The redhead’s eye twitched. If he stayed around this bastard for any longer, he would snap, and someone would be walking out of this store with a black eye. Dazai watched with amusement as he noticed the way the employee clenched his fists, fighting back the urge to retaliate. Dazai could practically see the steam coming from his ears as he scoffed, walking away.
Serves him right. Don’t touch people without consent, periodt!
The chibi in question, however, had one thought running through his head as he stomped back to the front counter: why the fuck do I work in retail.
(What he should’ve been asking himself, however, was, why are art kids all so weird? Coming from an art kid, mind you. Ah, but ignore me. Back to the story.)
The rest of Chuuya’s shift passed without any distractions until a familiar looking customer walked up to the front counter carrying the whole store.
“You know,” the brunet said as he placed his stuff down with a loud thud, “I’ve been giving it some thought. Why is someone like you working in a place like this?”
Eyes narrowed, Chuuya answered precariously, “And what is someone like me, exactly ? ”
“Oh, you know. Like you wouldn’t have a clue why I’d need four types of white paint. And yes, they’re all different.”
“So?”
“So?!” Dazai gasped. “How could you ever step foot in, let alone work at an enterprise you have absolutely no experience or knowledge with?! You look like someone who’d calculate the velocity of a falling paintbrush rather than actually use it!”
“And so what if I would?”
Shaking his head, Dazai pouted. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point!?”
“Why are you here?”
“Because?? I needed a job??”
“Why here ?!” Dazai stressed, pointing an accusatory finger at the cashier.
“Why does it matter?!”
“Someone who’s more comfortable with a calculator than a canvas should not be working at an art store! You’re infecting the space with your,” Dazai gestured vomiting, his voice laced with disdain and disgust, “Your STEM germs.”
Chuuya, who had just finished scanning the ungodly amount of items Dazai had placed on the counter, huffed. “How do you even know I'm studying STEM?”
“I didn’t. It was a guess. But it’s kinda obvious.”
Chuuya shoved the card reader in Dazai’s face with a look that read ‘please just pay already so you can be gone and I can have my peace again’. Much to his annoyance, however, Dazai ignored him and peered at his nametag instead.
“Hello, Chuuya. You wouldn’t mind stating my total before shoving that in my face, would you?”
Instinctively, Chuuya grabbed at the little nametag on his chest and ripped it off. “Your total is $307.99. Now pay.”
“Wow, I'm not that rich. Do me a favour and take out everything but the paints, okay?”
Chuuya’s fingers twitched as he placed the card reader back down, barely containing his frustration. He leaned over the counter, eyes blazing with disbelief.
“Seriously? Who the hell puts the entire store inventory on the counter and then decides to play ‘pick and choose’?!” he snapped, voice edged with irritation. “You want just the paints? Fine, let me just wave my magic wand and make the rest disappear. Because obviously, I’ve got nothing better to do!”
Dazai put his hands up, yet a stupid grin still plastered itself on his face. Stupid bastard was enjoying this. “Woah there. Customer’s always right.”
After aggressively punching buttons on his little cashier screen for a few minutes, Chuuya finally handed Dazai the card reader again and bit his tongue. “$37.68, please.”
“Ah,” the brunet blinked. “Sorry. I’m paying in cash.”
Chuuya felt himself snap.
-
Fifteen minutes later, the customer who was the bane of his fucking existence finally grabbed his pathetic little plastic bag and headed for the door. A ridiculously sized square bag was slung over his shoulder, as well as a brown messenger bag adorned with pins and keychains. The docs he was wearing squeaked on the tile floor and Chuuya had never been so glad to see someone leave until he fucking stopped at the door and turned around-
“Bye bye, Chibi! My name’s Dazai Osamu- don’t forget it!” Dazai winked, then turned around and stepped out through the glass doors as they went beep beep beep. (What an annoying sound.)
The moment Dazai was out of view, Chuuya let out a heavy sigh. He’d never seen the asshole around anywhere, so he didn’t see why he’d need his name. Hah. And even if he did…he wouldn’t want to associate with someone like him, anyway. Chuuya rolled his eyes, trying to shake off the interaction, but Dazai’s presence lingered like an unwelcome odour, refusing to fade away.
Oh well. He definitely had to find a way to get back at him for all that.
Though…It’s not like he’ll ever see Dazai fucking Osamu ever again.
(Yeah…about that…)
-
“Dazai Osamu?” Tachihara questioned, spinning a pen in his hand. “Oh my god. He’s like, a genius. Though I won’t deny he has an…interesting character.”
Chuuya, who was currently studying for his upcoming physics exam as physics majors do, had asked Tachihara about the stupid boy he met two days ago in the art store. Don’t ask why.
“You call his character interesting? I say he’s a fucking asshole.”
Tachihara shrugged. “Art majors, dude. Apart from his prejudice against STEM, he’s pretty chill. He helped me with my literature assignment a while back.”
“You did literature?!”
“Agh, yeah…” Tachihara groaned. “It was only to fill prerequisites for my course though. Dropped it as soon as possible, I'm telling ya. That course is hell on earth. Shakespeare this, Jane Austen that… God Chuuya, it was awful!”
“Erm…okay.”
A cough directed Chuuya’s attention to the other side of their study table, where the other half of their group was sitting. Akutagawa and Atsushi were studying chemistry- keyword, were- but now had their attention directed towards Chuuya and Tachihara’s conversation.
“I-i’ve talked to Dazai-san on multiple occasions,” Atsushi said. “He’s nice, and helpful.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes. “Come on! Can’t you guys have some negative opinions on him to make me feel better?”
As if he were helping, Akutagawa butted in with “Dazai-san is very unintelligible. But he is a very good artist.”
Chuuya’s mind flashed back to the large canvas he was carrying in a ridiculous sized bag, the paint stains on his hands, his bandages, and the paints he had purchased. “So it’s not all just for show?” he asked.
“No. Dazai-san is one of, if not the best artist in the visual arts precinct. He is very talented.”
A nudge in his side brought Chuuya’s attention back to Tachihara, who had recovered from his literature flashbacks. “What? You got a crush on him?”
“Eh!?” Chuuya exclaimed, before immediately clamping his mouth shut after remembering they were in a library. “No!” he hissed, softer this time. “It’s just, I'd never heard or even seen this asshole two days ago and you’re all praising him like he’s some god!”
“Well, he kinda i-”
“Who?”
Chuuya froze, caught off guard by the two voices echoing in his ears at the same time. His brow furrowed in confusion as he turned around, ready to confront whoever had the audacity to chime in…
…Only for his eyes to land on Dazai, leaning casually against a nearby bookshelf, book in hand, with an infuriatingly smug expression. “You?!” he sputtered, disbelief flooding his voice.
Dazai waved innocently. “Hi~”
Unlike the last time he saw him, Dazai looked much more put together. His messy brown hair was clipped behind his ears with two pins, and paint stains no longer littered his clothes. He wore a fitted black turtleneck that hugged his frame, accentuating the lean lines of his body. Over it, he had thrown on a slightly oversized, charcoal grey blazer, the kind that looked both polished and relaxed, with the sleeves casually rolled up to reveal his bandaged forearms.
His trousers were tailored and a deep, rich brown, the fabric soft yet structured, complementing the overall moody palette. On his feet were those same scuffed doc martens he was wearing the first time they met.
With the paint stains gone, the overall effect was striking: effortlessly hot, with an aesthetic that screamed “I’m drowning in books and coffee, but somehow, I still look good doing it.” You’d guess he was a literature major or something with how he was dressed.
“Oh god,” Chuuya buried his head in his hands. “Why are you here.”
Dazai pouted, walking closer to take a seat at his table. “I’m meeting friends, if you must know, so I can't hang for long. But wow, I didn’t think we’d meet again so soon, chibi. And with you talking about me, nevertheless.”
Chuuya felt his face flush a bright red. (Out of embarrassment.) “Wh- I wasn’t? Talking?? About?? You??” Please go away. Go away. Go away.
“Yeah we were.” Tachihara butted in smugly. Okay, wow. Way to throw a man under the bus.
“Awwwh, nice to know I left good of enough impression for you to gossip about me~”
“Literally shut the fuck up.”
Dazai made a motion of zipping up his mouth with his hands. The silence didn’t last long as he glanced across the table.
“Heyy Atsushi-kun! How are you?” Dazai perked, as if he didn’t just zip his mouth shut.
Atsushi jumped at the mention of his name, yet relaxed as he saw it was just Dazai. “Ah, Dazai-san. I’m good. How are your projects going?”
Dazai gave him a thumbs up. “You know me. As long as I'm stuffed to the brim with coffee it's all a-okay!”
“Oh, that’s good then.”
Just as Chuuya was about to stand up and smack that mop of brown hair and get rid of this pest himself, because none of his friends were making any move to do so despite his obvious despise for this creature, someone called his name from the other side of the room.
He turned his head to the sound of the noise to see a black-haired kid with glasses waving him over.
“Welp!” Dazai said, standing from his place. “Lovely talk, everyone. Chibi. But I'm afraid my encore is calling me. Farewell!”
And then he was gone as soon as he arrived, weaving his way through tables and chairs before he met up with the name caller on the other side of the room.
Thank fucking god, Chuuya thought.
“I would so let him ruin my life.” Tachihara commented.
Horrified, Chuuya whipped his head back to face his friend. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, bro. I’m straight, but like, if I had to pick a guy on campus to date, it would be him. ”
“Oh my god no.”
“Just look at that waist! I’m no better than a man, Chuuya!” Tachihara cried, grasping onto him with excessive force.
“You are a man! And let go of me!”
“If Gin didn’t exist, he’d be my second choice! How can you even hate a man like that, Chuuya!?”
“What the fuck?!”
-
After meeting up with Ranpo, Dazai made his way to where the rest of his friends were sitting. Yosano and Kunikida waved him over as Ranpo took his respective seat.
“You took so long,” Yosano said with a hint of curiosity in her voice. She was currently slaving over an enormously large book called Psychoactive Substances: Effects on the Human Mind and Body.
“Ah,” Dazai replied. “Was just checking up on my dog. Nothing much, Yosano~”
“Your dog?”
“Ah, well. Chuuya. He’s not my dog yet. Well, he is. He just doesn’t know it. But he will. Soon. I will make him my dog.”
Yosano huffed, used to Dazai’s eccentric behaviour. “Okay, buddy.”
Dazai’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, fully embracing his role as the world’s best slacker. “He may be in STEM, but something about him is so… different. ”
Ranpo snickered, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Honestly, it sounds like you’re just projecting your own chaotic energy onto him. I mean, it’s not like he has your knack for attracting trouble, right?”
“Hey now,” Dazai said, feigning offence. “I like to think of it as a unique charm.” He paused, glancing over at his friends. “Plus, it’s just so much fun to watch him squirm.”
Yosano shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re terrible. If you keep this up, he’s going to think you’re actually serious about adopting him as your pet.”
“Why not? Think of the possibilities! I could take him on walks, teach him tricks—”
“Like how to run away from you?” Ranpo interjected, his grin widening.
Dazai placed a hand dramatically over his heart, feigning heartbreak. “You wound me, Ranpo! I’d be a perfect owner! I mean, just look at the bond we share!”
Just then, Kunikida, who had been quietly observing the banter while scribbling notes, finally spoke up. “As entertaining as this is, could we focus on actual work for a change? I have an assignment due next week, and I’d rather not have to remind you all every five minutes.”
“Aw, come on, Ku-ni-ki-da!” Dazai said, rolling his eyes. “Where’s your sense of fun? Life is too short to be all serious all the time!”
“He’s got a point. And besides, we can totally work and joke at the same time,” Ranpo chimed in, leaning back in his chair, lollipop in his mouth. “You just have to know how to balance it.”
Kunikida pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated. “I understand that, but I can’t concentrate when you’re all busy making jokes about adopting Chuuya. What if he finds out? You’ll embarrass him!”
Yosano raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come on, Kunikida. Chuuya can handle himself. Plus, it’s not like Dazai is actually going to start a pet adoption program.”
“Yet,” Dazai added with a smirk, leaning forward. “Just you wait. One day, I might have a whole pack of ‘Chuuya’s’ following me around. Imagine the chaos!”
“Let’s not give him any more ideas,” Kunikida replied, shaking his head. “You two are bad influences, and it’s frustrating trying to keep you on task.”
“I’m only a bad influence when wine isn’t in the picture,” Yosano commented before pulling out a bottle of red from her handbag.
“Wh- What are you doing with wine in a college library!?”
“Chill, Mom. It helps me focus.”
“Mom?!”
Dazai leaned back, arms crossed behind his head. “Nevermind Yosano and her wine. Frustration is just another form of excitement, Kunikida! You should try it sometime. It might be more productive than you think.”
Kunikida sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose whilst eyeing Yosano warily, who had put her wine away as quickly as she pulled it out. “I’ll stick to my productivity, thank you very much. If you want to mess around, go ahead, but keep it away from my work.”
“Fine, fine,” Dazai said, waving his hand dismissively. “But I can’t promise not to get a little creative while I’m at it. Who knows? Maybe inspiration for my next piece will strike amidst the chaos! Claude Monet will be trembling underneath the strokes of my paintbrush!”
“Claude Monet is dead, babe.” Yosano pointed out, back to reading her book.
Dazai rolled his eyes. “Duh. It’s a metaphor, babe.”
“I don’t think that’s what a metaphor is, but you go girl.”
“I see why you’re studying medicine.”
“At least I actually have a future ahead of me.”
Dazai mock gasped. “Ranpo! Defend me!”
Ranpo, who had been eating a bar of chocolate whilst this ordeal went down, shrugged. “Mmmmf… tuh-me... when I’mm… mffished... chocllate.”