Chapter Text
The moment Chuuya starts waking up he regrets his choice of falling asleep on the floor last night. Though he doesn’t really remember making that choice consciously. It’s not the worst of all places he slept during the past few months after leaving home, but it’s definitely not the most comfortable either.
He slowly sits up looking around to get a grasp on his surroundings, because beside the fact that he knows he is on the floor and that there is a ceiling above him, he doesn’t know what space surrounds him.
Looking around he sees empty store shelves and crumpled cans and other rubbish littering the floor. The harsh streak of sunlight comes inside, announcing another hot day. He looks out of the dirty, glass wall to see a row of gasoline machinery outside. Right, he is at the deserted gas station, he remembers breaking the glass door last night to get inside. Now, in the light of day, he can see other places where the glass is missing, he could have gotten inside without making any effort.
He reaches into his backpack, which he was using as a pillow, looking for some water. The bottle is almost empty and he drinks it all in one go, then crumples the bottle with one hand and throws it on a floor, where it joins other rubbish. He should get a full bottle somewhere before hitting the road, but the shelves here are completely out of any products. There is absolutely nothing left, even to steal. Who knows for how long this place has been abandoned. Maybe there are some operating stores nearby, but as far as he remembers he is in some total shithole along a highway in Missouri. He doesn’t even wanna dwell on how he ended up here in the first place.
At the beginning of his journey, right after he left home, things were fresh and exciting. The adrenaline and feeling of freedom were pushing him forward, but after some time it got mostly irritating. At first, he was sleeping at motels or he was befriending random people that let him stay the nights at their places. Later, when he began to run out of money, he started sleeping on benches or vacant buildings. And with people he met on his way, he was mostly getting into fights for some reason. Despite this, he didn't even once consider returning home.
It’s probably time to finally follow his initial plan and head to Nebraska to Yuan and Shirase. He called his friends right after leaving home, asking if he could visit and stay with them for a while. It's been a few months since then and he still hasn’t reached his destination. He can’t even say exactly what and why is taking him so long. There is just always something on the way that stops him. And he probably wasn’t very eager to head straight to Nebraska too. Not because he doesn’t wanna see his friends, because he does very much, but he doesn’t really know what he will be doing there. Also, the three of them will be crumpled on a small space of the trailer they live in, and he knows Yuan and Shirase don’t consider it a problem, but it must get suffocating at some point, so it’s not really a long term solution. Well, he also knows he will have to find a job there.
Chuuya steps outside through the broken glass door and is hit by a warmth radiating from the heated concrete. The gas station is small, only two fueling stands, and exactly how he thought, there is only this old highway along the station and nothing more in sight.
He drops his backpack by his feet and leans onto one of the fuel stands, then reaches to the pocket of his jeans. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and puts one between his teeth, then starts a search for his lighter. Why, for fucks sake, can’t he ever find it? There are basically only a few places it can be. Also, hunger and thirst do not help with his already strained nerves.
When he finally blows out the smoke from his lungs he relaxes a bit. He should make some plan on how to get to Nebraska but he basically has one option at the moment, catch a hike to the city and then get a bus or something. Or maybe he should hitchhike all the way there, but it would probably take much longer. If he’s not mistaken it’s 1st of July today, so he can make it on 4th of July to Yuan and Shirase, so the three of them can watch fireworks from the roof of the trailer. They used to always spend that evening together back in their home city. He has missed doing this for the past few years since the two left Boston.
He looks down on his t-shirt. There are stains of sweat underneath his armpits and he thinks he can even see drops of blood, probably from the street fight he got into a few days ago, for a reason he can't even recall now. If he wants to make a living soul even consider letting him in their car, he should look at least a little bit more presentable.
He sticks his cigarette between his teeth and crouches down to inspect the limited content of his backpack. He chooses his orange t-shirt, which is crumpled as hell and not really fresh , but at least without blood on it.
Taking off the t-shirt he is wearing, he burns it with a cigarette he forgot he put in between his lips. He looks at the piece of clothing he just took off himself with disgust and throws it on the concrete underneath his feet, it fits the scenery perfectly, looks like it’s been lying here for a few years now, in an early state of decomposition, or even not that early.
Then he fixes his greasy hair, gathering it into a low bun. Shorter strands around his face immediately fall out from the hair elastic. He doesn’t even remember the last time he combed it, he’s not even sure if there is still a comb in his backpack, hasn’t seen it for a while.
He throws his backpack over his shoulders and heads west along the highway, hoping for some car to pass this way.
♡
A sharp streak of sunlight breaks through Dazai's closed eyelids. He grabs a pillow to cover his face, but quickly decides that's a very bad idea, given the temperature and the stuffy air in the van. He may be suicidal but suffocating isn’t the best way to go. He must have forgotten to open the windows for the night. Also, he usually draws the curtains as well, but the annoying sun on his face is clear evidence that he hasn't done that either.
Through closed eyelids, he sees a warm, intense color of mandarins and hears a soft laughter of a woman. He is much younger as he carefully places the mandarin peels on a pile they have made together. The last piece makes the pile unstable and it collapses. The boy is disappointed, but the woman laughs again and hands him a piece of the peeled fruit, ruffling his hair. Her hand is soft and warm, like everything in this vision. Is he dreaming? Everything feels hazy, but not quite like a dream. He takes a bite of the fruit and the taste is so intense that it brings him back to reality.
Dazai takes a deep breath and decides to open his eyes. He stays still on his back and looks around the van to understand his situation. The light in the small space of a van is similar to the one in the flashback, so that may be the reason he just had one.
Still, he is surprised. He hasn't had one in a long time and isn't sure how he feels about it. This memory always awakens conflicting emotions in him, but he has a feeling that he has been experiencing much worse flashbacks in the past few days.
He slowly sits up and realizes that he has been holding his breath since he opened his eyes. Not that there is much air to breathe anyway. He exhales sharply and reaches for the back door of the van. Where is he anyway? He can't remember the last day or the day before. In fact, he only remembers being in Chicago a few days ago and deciding to take Route 66 one last time after hearing that it gets decertified. He can’t remember the reason, but there most likely wasn't any. Probably just for the illusion of a goal. After that, everything went dark and unclear. Today, for the first time in several days, he feels fairly good, but he can't tell exactly for how long he's been out.
He hears car noises and the rush of the city, but when he looks outside, he doesn't recognize the place. The van is parked on a concrete parking lot by the gas station with no trees or any other shadow, which explains why he almost suffocated in his sleep. It's the end of June and it's probably about 90℉ outside.
Knowing himself, he hasn't eaten for a few days now, and he doesn't exactly consider it a problem, but he feels weak, and he should probably at least drink something. After finding only a few drops of water at the bottom of the bottle, he decides to go out. He doesn't even bother to change his t-shirt, just pulls on a pair of loose jeans over his bare legs. For a moment, he also considers changing the bandages that are wrapped around his forearms and neck. They have loosened and are sweaty after a few days of not being changed. Eventually, he leaves this task for later, after he takes a shower at a station.
Shortly after, Dazai finds out that he is in Springfield, still in the state of Illinois, so he must have taken the road after all, but didn't get far. 1st of July 1985 , he reads in the corner of a newspaper as he passes the press stand, and if he remembers correctly, it was June 27th when he heard that the iconic Route 66 had entered the realm of history when it got decertified. That was the last day he remembers, so he was out for 3 days. It could be worse.
He wanders around the open-air market, trying to decide what he should get to eat. He's already bought a huge bottle of water, and it's really heavy, so he'd like to go back to the van. Besides, he doesn't have sunglasses or a hat, so he feels weak from the sun. Or maybe it's just hunger. Or probably both. Or neither, and he's just a weak man without any reason for it. He stops at one of the stands and takes a look. He almost regrets that it's not the season for mandarins, but he quickly remembers the last time he tried to eat them and how it ended.
A few hours later, the sun slowly goes down and everything is covered in a layer of warm light as Dazai heads west, the new Dire Straits album playing in the background. The cookies he finally decided to buy at a market taste better than he expected and he almost enjoys them. The road is wide and empty in the middle of nowhere, and he's so lost in his thoughts that he almost doesn't notice a silhouette on the horizon walking along the road.
A young man turns at the sound of a car engine and waves his hand. Dazai doesn't usually stop for hitchhikers. Not because he is afraid, but because he is not interested in making meaningless contacts with people he will never see again. And he's not a nice enough guy to do it just because someone needs a ride. Boring small talk with strangers is reason enough not to. He probably wouldn't stop now either, but something about the boy strongly catches his eye.
"Why is your hair mandarin?" Dazai asks, slowing down next to the boy. Only now does he notice that the boy's t-shirt is also orange, as if he wanted to blend in completely with the setting sun on the horizon.
"What do you mean?" the boy answers, clearly surprised by the question, and takes a step toward an open window of the van.
"You look like a mandarin," Dazai grins wide and watches with satisfaction as the irritation grows on the other’s face. The redhead tucks a loose strand of hair that has fallen out of his bun behind his ear, the action makes Dazai wonder how long his hair is.
"Shut up! Mandarins are small and round!" is the boy's response, and Dazai decides that it's fun to tease him, as he catches the bait in an instant.
"Oh, so you are trying to tell me you are not small?" Dazai grins even wider as the redhead rolls his eyes and clenches his hands on the window frame.
"Stop talking shit and let me in the damn car already."
"And who said I want you in my car?"
"Why would you stop otherwise?" The boy is now visibly irritated, aggressively pulling the door handle of the van.
"Oh, anyone would stop if they saw such a small mandarin walking down the road," Dazai replies, but he is already shifting some things from the front seat where the redhead settles himself. He notices a small smile on the boy's face as he tries to hide his amusement, but he can't tell if it's because of his jokes or because he finally managed to catch a ride. "Throw your backpack to the back."
The boy does as he is told and takes a long, curious look around the back of the van. When he turns around to the front, Dazai glances at him to make sure he got it right. His hair really is the color of mandarins. The exact same color that has haunted him for eight years now, the one he saw this morning before he opened his eyes. Of all the days he could meet a boy with mandarin hair, he meets him on the day he has been thinking about the fruits since he has woken up. Life is very strange.
"So, where are you heading?" The boy's voice snaps Dazai out of his thoughts. He turns his head slightly to look at him.
"Shouldn't you have asked me that question before you got into my car?" Dazai replies with amusement.
"I don't really care, just drop me off in the next town or something," the boy says dismissively, resting one arm on a window frame.
"Aren't you going somewhere in particular?"
"I asked you first! You are so fucking annoying!” He huffs. “You're lucky I don't hit the weaker!"
“You don’t look very strong. You’re really small.” Dazai giggles and watches as the other’s irritation grows once again. He has no idea why it amuses him so much.
"Ugh! Fine, let's just not talk!" the boy snaps, now very annoyed, and turns up the music.
They drive for a while without saying a word, and Dazai finds himself glancing at the boy from time to time. His eyes are fixed on the road, and he looks like he is listening intensely to the music. The shape of his face and the color of his hair are highlighted by the setting sun, no trace of previous irritation is visible, instead he looks tired, but also relaxed. Dazai wonders if he knows the band or if the music caught his ear just now. Their eyes meet when the boy turns his head towards him, probably feeling Dazai's gaze on him.
"But thanks for taking me, I guess. Hardly anyone passes this way," the boy speaks first, before Dazai decides to ask him about the music.
"Even if, nobody would notice such a small-"
" - fuck off already!" is the boy's immediate response. He has harsh language and a fierce attitude that make Dazai think of a barking dog. The conclusion makes him laugh.
"I see! You are not only a mandarin, but also a dog, barking and baring teeth. You even have a collar!" Dazai comments, reaching his hand to the boy's neck, where the black leather collar is visible.
"Okay! That's enough! Stop the car!" the boy shouts, reaching for his backpack. "I said stop the fucking car, asshole!" he repeats when the other doesn't react at first.
Dazai stops the car and the other gets out without hesitation. Honestly, Dazai didn’t expect for it to be this easy to push the other to the edge.
"And I'm taking this with me," the boy says, grabbing the bottle of water Dazai bought earlier in the day.
"I was not aware that you were also a thief ," Dazai says, pretending to be serious.
The boy just slams the door with unnecessary force and gives Dazai the middle finger as he drives away.
Four days later Dazai is in the state of Missouri where he was trying to come back to living. He cleaned up the van a little, even washed it on the outside, reminding himself how pretty blue it is. He washed his clothes and bedding in a public laundry, where he was staring at a washing machine for over an hour, wondering why most of his clothes are in shades of blue, until his head started spinning. He was trying to eat more, take a shower every day, and change his bandages regularly. Small things but taking a lot of effort from him.
It was already late in the evening when he decided to stop for the night near some bar. It’s loud and there are wasted people around, but he is tired enough to ignore it. He is now in a grocery store, about ten minutes walk from the place where he left the van. The harsh light in the store makes him wanna close his eyes forever, but the cool air is really soothing after a hot day. Dazai reaches into his pocket to check how much money he has. There is some, but not much, and the rest, that he keeps hidden in the van, won’t be enough for long. He will have to get some money soon, somehow.
He stops by the fridge, enjoying the cold and he just stands there for a while. An orange colored bottle catches his eye and he reaches for it. ‘ 100% mandarin juice ’ he reads a label on a bottle and feels goosebumps all over his arms. A vivid image flashes in his mind and it surprises him strongly, because it is not the image he would expect to see in these circumstances. He sees the boy with mandarin hair and an orange t-shirt, bathed in a golden light of the setting sun. It’s warm and soft and it doesn’t affect him as deeply as the usual flashback. It makes him wonder why he would think of a boy that he only met once. Why that damn orange hair is the first thing that comes to his mind. It doesn’t make any sense to him, but it obviously has to be something. Something strong enough to overtake his usual association with mandarins.
He decides to buy the juice even if he won’t be able to drink it. He also grabs a few rolls of bandages, which were the reason he came to the store in the first place.
Coming back to the van Dazai tries not to overthink too much, because that usually doesn’t lead him to any good. For the past four days he hasn’t been thinking much about the boy, but it seems that the meeting has affected him more than he thought.
He feels uneasy with the thought that he may never again have the flashback that has accompanied him for eight years. But it is rather unlikely. Actually, that would be a relief but he also is scared to lose it. The bottle of mandarin juice in a plastic bag suddenly gets heavy and Dazai feels like dropping it any moment.
The orange color flashes in a corner of his eye as he passes by the bar and he stops at once, surprised.
At first he thinks he has hallucinations, but the scene is obviously very real. There are two tall guys in a pass between the buildings, violently trying to pin someone to the wall. It is already dark, but the neon, colorful lights from the bar signboard are enough for Dazai to see everything clearly.
“What did you say you fucker?!” says one of the men aggressively, putting a hand on a wall near a mandarin-haired boy’s head.
“I said you’re gonna regret it,” the boy replies surprisingly calmly.
That makes the other men furious and he reaches to grab the boy’s hair and pulls it violently.
Dazai obviously isn’t the kind of guy to come to the rescue. Now he is mostly driven by curiosity, as he takes a step towards the scene, not knowing exactly what he is trying to do with his incredibly low physical combat ability.
“Now you are gonna regret it for sure! ” The boy drops his backpack on a pavement, and without any warning he pounds the man with his head, hard enough to make him let go of the hair, stumbling. The other one is kicked in the crotch at the same time, and they start to back off. Dazai is already close to the scene and he takes just another step forward, when everything goes dark in a split of a second.
His butt hurts from hitting the pavement and he feels a little blood on his bottom lip.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” Dazai hears from above and when he regains a vision he sees a mandarin-haired boy standing above him in shock. The other two aren’t there anymore.
“I thought you don’t hit the weaker,” Dazai replies, unable to move from his spot where he fell on a brick pavement.
“Why can’t you answer my fucking question for once?!”
“I was just passing by,... but now I’m passing out. ”
“You were passing by ?” asks the boy slightly off, slowly reaching with both hands to his temples.
“Yeah, I parked my van for the night just behind the corner.” Dazai stretches out an arm in a van’s direction, but the boy doesn’t follow it. Instead he puts his hands on slightly bended knees and hangs his head between them. Only now Dazai notices that the boy looks like he hasn’t slept since they parted ways a few days ago. He also hasn’t changed his orange t-shirt and his hair looks extremely messy. Dazai wonders if something happened to him or if it’s his usual state.
“You look awful,” he says, looking up at the boy.
“No shit,” the boy answers but there is no real heat in his voice. “Do you maybe have something to drink?” he asks.
“Oh right, the drink stealer. ” Dazai grins but is already reaching out to the plastic bag, laying next to him. He notices that the rolls of bandages fell out on a pavement but he ignores it and takes out the juice.
The boy moves to sit crossed legs right in front of Dazai as he hands him a bottle. For a moment Dazai sees that the redhead wants to comment on the fact that it is a mandarin juice, but for some reason he chooses not to.
“Sorry I punched you, I took you for one of these fuckers,” he says instead, opening up the bottle, “but what the hell were you trying to do anyway?”
“I guess I wanted to hit them with this plastic bag with the juice inside,” Dazai replies very seriously and that makes the boy sitting in front of him giggle a little, as he puts the bottle to his lips.
Dazai watches him drink in silence. Bright colorful lights from the bar signboard illuminate the boy’s face and color his hair in bright orange - the exact same color as the juice he is drinking. Dazai feels a weird warmth he hasn’t been feeling for a long time, but also some uneasiness, probably coming from the overwhelming amount of the mandarin color. It suffocates him, but also kind of embraces him warmly.
The boy meets Dazai’s gaze but he doesn’t look away. „What?” he asks, closing the bottle and putting it on a pavement between them.
“I didn’t say a word,” Dazai lifts his palms in a defensive gesture.
“You are staring. You were doing the same thing in a van when you picked me up.”
“I guess that’s because I have never seen a mandarin drinking mandarin juice before.”
“Fuck off of my hair already!”
“But I actually like it a lot,” says Dazai matter of factly, and he really does mean it. Until now, everything that he has associated with mandarins has been awaking mostly painful memories. But since he has seen this hair for the first time, it has started to change somehow.
“…Good,” says the boy dismissively.
They sit like this in silence for a little longer. The boy is looking around and Dazai is still staring at him, secretly hoping to get on his nerves, because for some reason he finds it very amusing to irritate him.
“Ok,..” the redhead snaps after a moment, standing up. He makes a grimace of pain reaching his hand to his forehead as he bends down for the backpack “…bye.” He turns around and starts to walk away without another word.
“Are you gonna leave me here in the middle of the night, bleeding, beaten up by you ?” Dazai whines, more to tease the boy, than to stop him.
But the boy actually stops and turns to face Dazai. “You are such a baby! I haven’t even used half of my strength on you!”
“Oh, so you are telling me, you could kill me If you wanted to?” Dazai asks with hope in his voice and a wide grin.
“I'm tempted to give it a try,” the boy replies but doesn’t move or turn away from Dazai. He looks at him as if he wants to make sure that he really didn't cause any serious harm.
Dazai can see that his head hurts, which isn’t surprising considering the strength he used to hit the man. “I have painkillers in my van if you want some,” he says eventually, still not sure if he even wants the other in his space again.
The redhead furrows his brows and he looks like he's thinking intensely about something. “Shit, ok.” He takes a step towards Dazai.
It feels extremely weird for Dazai to have another person in his van. It’s such a personal space, which was never before interrupted by any other living soul, and Dazai had no plans to change that really. But somehow when it happens, and suddenly there are two people in this small space instead of one, he finds himself surprisingly peaceful.
“You can sit on a bed,” Dazai suggests, when he notices that the boy has taken off his backpack and looks like he's going to sit on it, or rather faint any moment. He does as he is told, not saying a word as Dazai continues searching for the pills. He knows he has it somewhere, he probably even took some a few days ago.
“Here,” he says, finally turning to the boy when he finds it in one of the boxes under the front seat.
The boy doesn’t reply and doesn’t reach for the pills, instead his head hangs loosely forward.
“…No way,” Dazai says to himself and comes closer to examine him. He crouches down in front of him beside the bed and takes a look. The boy’s face is covered by his hair and Dazai is tempted to take a mandarin strand between his fingers, but he hesitates, as if it’s going to burn him.
“Are you asleep?” he asks quietly but he already knows the answer. “…Okay…” He feels a little awkward as he stands there wondering if he should wake the boy up or just let him sleep here. The redhead must be either very tired or very naive to fall asleep at a stranger’s just like that, but it’s kind of obvious that he wasn’t feeling well. Dazai wonders what he has been doing for those four days and how come he ended up just here where Dazai himself is. It’s such a strange coincidence.
After a brief moment he decides to take off the boy’s red converses and he tosses them beside the backpack. He just washed his bedding and the shoes are really dirty.
When he puts a hand on a boy’s shoulder, in order to lay him down on a side, he feels strong heat radiating from his body, such a contrast to Dazai’s usually cold skin. He wonders if it always feels that way when touching another living body, or if the boy is just uniquely warm. He better not have a fever, because Dazai is the worst person to take care of the sick and he definitely would not sign up for this.
He then slips into the bed behind the boy, after only changing the jeans to sweatpants, and lays in the dark stiffly, facing the boy’s back and listening to his steady breathing. He considers pulling the comforter out from under him, but the night is warm and he doesn’t want to risk waking him up. It would probably be awkward telling him that he can sleep here.
A streak of light from a street lamp sneaks in between the van’s curtains and illuminates one of the boy’s arms and his hair. The orange t-shirt is heavily worn, but it still looks decent. His hair is tied up in a low bun, exactly like when they first met, but much messier. Dazai can smell the faint scent of cigarettes and he wonders if the boy smokes or if he has soaked the smell from somewhere or someone.
The van’s bed is big enough for both of them to lay without invading each other's space much, but the very fact that there is another person laying that close to him, makes Dazai anxious, and he already knows he won’t be sleeping tonight, not that it's rare for him.
There is a sound of fireworks somewhere nearby and colorful light flares up, illuminating the inside of the van for a moment. Right, it must be the 4th of July today.
When it begins to dawn a few hours later Dazai is much more tired, but still not asleep, unlike the boy who has slept through the whole night, wriggling and spreading out his limbs all over the bed, poking Dazai a few times in the process.
Dazai watches as the streak of light from a street lamp is slowly changing into a warm streak of sunlight, as the day sets in. Now it lights up the redhead's face, which is located only a few inches from Dazai’s. In the light of the day he notices a bruise on the boy’s forehead in the spot where he hit that guy. The dark spot contrasts with the pale skin, slightly sun-kissed on the nose and cheeks, but what attracts Dazai's attention the most are the little freckles, sprinkling the boy's face, and for some reason the view makes Dazai hold his breath, as if he is afraid that he will blow away the freckles out of his face.
The freckles are honey-colored and uneven, accumulated mainly on the nose and the cheeks, but there are also smaller ones on the forehead and the chin. Those are visible from close proximity, in which Dazai is now. He wonders what color the boy's eyes are, because for some reason he did not pay attention to it before. If he were to guess, he would bet on golden or amber like his own, preferably orange, if such were to exist. But definitely something warm.
Oh, they are blue… Dazai thinks to himself surprised, when the boy suddenly opens his eyes slightly. He would never thought this color would suit the redhead, but maybe they have something in common after all. The eyes are as blue as Dazai himself usually feels. It means very .
“…The fuck??” are the boy’s first words and he looks extremely confused.
Dazai takes the opportunity to ask him about his name.
“Chuuya..” he responses looking at Dazai, and after a moment he lazily starts to sit up on a bed, looking around the van.
♡
Chuuya can feel the warmth of sunlight on his face and something soft underneath him as he sleeps soundly. He lays comfortably and feels very cozy, something he hasn't felt in a long time. He is willing to sleep that blissful dream for a few more hours, but one thing heavily disturbs his peace, and he can feel it even in a state he is now, which is definitely more asleep than awake. It feels like someone is drilling through him with their eyes, so he slightly lifts his eyelids and What-
-the fuck??” slips from his lips when he realizes he lies in some bed and weird space he doesn’t recognize, and there is some face very close to his own. The brunette boy stares intensely and looks as surprised as Chuuya himself but probably for some other reason.
“What’s your name anyway?” the brunette asks, his gaze wandering around Chuuya’s face.
“Chuuya…” he replies and he now notices a dried blood on the other boy’s bottom lip. Chuuya remembers hitting him, but he must have really been out of shape if these are the only injuries he caused by the punch.
He slowly sits up on a bed. “Yours?”
“Dazai,” the brunette says rolling onto his back. Chuuya now notices that he looks like he hasn’t been sleeping for a whole night. Maybe he was afraid that Chuuya would rob him or something. He feels a little guilty that the other couldn’t sleep peacefully in his own van, but only a little, because it’s not his fault that he fell asleep. Besides, the other could have woken him up if he wanted to. He is kind of grateful though, because he was feeling absolutely terrible yesterday and this one time he really needed a proper place to sleep. Now his head still hurts a little, but it’s nothing compared to yesterday’s headache and he really hasn't slept that well for a very long time.
Chuuya reaches with his hand to the forehead to check if he has an open wound, but he can only feel a bump under his fingers.
“You can still take these painkillers,” says Dazai, not taking his eyes off the ceiling.
“Nah, can do without them, it doesn’t even hurt anymore,” Chuuya shrugs and starts to get off the bed, looking for his shoes and a backpack.
He puts on the shoes and tucks the orange t-shirt into his jeans. He notices that they look very dirty, but no wonder since they haven’t been washed for some time now. As well as the rest of his clothes actually. Dazai turns his head a little and watches him getting ready without saying anything.
“Do you know if I can find a shower somewhere around here?” Chuuya asks ready to go, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.
When he’s back from the shower and opens the van’s door he finds the boy lying curled up on his side facing him. The boy’s closed eyelids are moving uneasily, but beside that he looks really calm, and almost childish as he breathes steadily. Did he fall asleep? It’s awfully hot but the slight breeze gets inside the van moving Dazai’s hair gently. The sight is somehow peaceful and Chuuya stands in the doorway for a moment taking it in not sure what he should do. He’s a little taken aback by this turn of events. The boy probably just fell asleep waiting for him. He certainly didn’t look well-rested. Now that Chuuya thinks about it, he didn’t say he would be back when he left to take a shower with all of his stuff. Dazai probably just thought he’s gone for good, and wanted to take a nap before hitting the road. On the other hand the van’s doors weren’t locked so the nap might actually be unintended.
Now Chuuya feels a little out of place standing here with groceries he bought for breakfast for the two of them, as thanks for letting him stay the night. He could just leave to go his own way. That’s probably what Dazai thought he would do.
He considers it for a moment, but then sits on the van’s floor and unpacks the shopping bag. Whatever, he can at least enjoy his breakfast in peace. Also, he washed his clothes in the shower so he should spread them out in the sun to dry, and the van’s hood will do perfectly.
It felt a bit strange buying food for a total stranger. All he can say about Dazai’s culinary preferences is that he probably likes mandarin juice, as he noticed it was the only thing in Dazai’s shopping bag beside a couple of bandage rolls last night. But that bottle is still almost full. Seems like Chuuya was the only one drinking it yesterday. So he bought some sandwich ingredients hoping Dazai is not too picky. Even if he is, Chuuya doesn’t care much.
He looks around the van’s interior while making himself a sandwich. It’s interesting to see how one can organize his life in such a small space. It must be really handy to always have a place to sleep and not have to think about it every night. The bed Dazai is currently napping in is located on top of the pull-out drawers in the back of the van. Behind it are double-leaf doors with white curtains. There are a lot of drawers, cabinets and boxes inside of the van to store all kinds of stuff. Dazai for sure owns a lot more things than Chuuya is capable of carrying in his backpack.
It's all very functional and cozy, not too neat, but not too messy either. There are some personal items that indicate that the van has been Dazai's for a while, it’s definitely not just a temporarily rented car. Some clothes are sticking out of the cabinets under the bed. On the floor, next to white converses and a shopping bag lays fresh rolls of bandages, and not for the first time since he met the boy, Chuuya wonders what’s hidden underneath. He remembers the first time he got into Dazai’s car and thought he must be really hot with that extra layer. Even now when he’s asleep, his arms and neck are covered in them and Chuuya supposes Dazai didn’t take them off for the night because of his presence.
His gaze wanders over the ‘kitchen’-like side of the van. All food must be hidden in cabinets because the only indication that the boy eats is an empty tin of canned crab, a bottle of water and the mandarin juice from yesterday. He looks at the clippings from magazines that are taped to the cabinet’s door, they depict mostly water and high mountains.
When Chuuya inspects them further, his gaze lingers on the only face among all of the landscapes. It doesn’t look like from a magazine, but like an actual developed Zenit photo. It shows a young woman with dark, wavy hair in a dress with a rose pattern. She’s standing in the alley of some fruit trees and points at something above her head. The shot is too narrow to see what it is, but due to this, her face is clearly visible. She has a wide smile on her lips but somehow she doesn’t look cheerful. She might be Dazai’s girlfriend, or someone from family. He can see some similarities in their features. Whoever the girl is, somehow Chuuya has a feeling she’s left in the past now. There are no visible traces of a woman’s presence in the van, and Chuuya assumes Dazai has been on the road for a while.
He can’t deny, Dazai made him curious. It’s really an unprecedented coincidence that they ran into each other again in a different state after days.
♡
Quiet tune of Dire Straits’ song breaks into Dazai’s consciousness but he refuses to open his eyes for a while longer, he still feels tired and weary. But he’s also hot, sticky and thirsty so he probably should force himself to get up, drink something, take a shower and change his bandages which wasn’t so challenging for him recently, and he wishes that it won’t change soon, but knows it's wishful thinking. There’s not much he can do when reality overwhelms him.
When he hears a low voice start singing along with the song, he forces himself to open his eyes.
I see this world has made you sad
Some people can be bad
The things they do, the things they say
It’s quiet but he can hear the lyrics and recognise the song since he’s familiar with the whole album. He focuses his eyes on a figure sitting on the passenger seat. Ah, it’s the boy with the mandarin hair, Chuuya, was it? He leans a bit over a lyrics booklet, his face slightly turned sideways to Dazai, so he can see the boy's lips moving a little while he’s singing.
Why worry?
There should be laughter after pain
There should be sunshine after rain
These things have always been the same
So why worry now?
It doesn’t seem like Chuuya knows the song very well, he doesn't follow the melody line perfectly, and reads from the booklet. Nonetheless it sounds surprisingly good. Dazai recalls how Chuuya was listening intently to the songs as they were driving in the car together.
It feels a little uncomfortable to wake up with another person in his space, he’s not sure if he likes it, but hearing ‘it will be laughter after pain and sunshine after rain’ as a wake-up can’t be that bad, even if he doesn't necessarily believe it. He stretches his legs and arms, then reaches for water. That catches the redhead’s attention.
“Finally,” he says, putting away the booklet, and turning to Dazai.
He looks different than before, even different than earlier this morning. For the first time since they met, Chuuya looks…fresh. Dazai didn’t think it’s possible to look more vivid than the boy he picked up from the side of the road a couple of days ago, but it is.
Chuuya changed his tattered clothes for clean black jeans and neat, sleeveless t-shirt that exposes his freckled shoulders. The shirt is bright red and with his orange hair it brings an image of flames to Dazai’s mind. It’s also the first time he sees the boy’s curls fall loose instead of being tied into a bun. Still a little damp from the shower and longer than Dazai previously imagined.
It's over the shoulder and the curls frame the left side of his face, on the right side being tucked behind the boy's ear, exposing two small gold hoop earrings. A black leather choker wraps around his neck, just like before. Dazai’s eyes rest on a faint bruise on the boy’s neck, it doesn’t look as fresh as a bruise on his forehead from yesterday’s fight.
“Finally?” Dazai raises his eyebrow. “I couldn’t sleep at night because someone took over my bed,” he whines. “You take up a lot of space for such a small -”
“- Quit those nicknames already…” A shadow of irritation runs over the boy’s face as he grabs the van’s door handle. He gets out of the car and opens a sliding door to reach for his backpack, exposing Dazai to harsh sunlight so he sits up on the bed to drink the rest of the water from the bottle.
Dazai finds a strange satisfaction in watching the blue eyes fill with anger. He wonders how little it would take for him to end up like those guys in the parking lot yesterday if the simple nickname evokes such emotions in Chuuya. His jaw clenches, but Dazai notices it's because he's chewing gum.
“I’ll be going now.”
“So, you like their new album?”
They say at the same time.
Chuuya hesitates as he puts on his backpack and looks at Dazai. “Umm… yeah…I mean, I only listened to the first half of it, but it’s good. I liked Your Latest Trick and Why Worry .”
Dazai sees a spark of interest in the boy's eyes.
“I like Brothers in Arms,” Dazai says and Chuuya squints as he considers something, so he adds, “It’s the last track.”
“Oh, I never listened to the whole album.”
“You can do it if you want.”
“Okay.” Chuuya falters.
“Yeah.” Dazai clambers out of the van shoving between the boy and the door. Chuuya takes a step back and looks at Dazai from head to toe as he stands in front of him and stretches his arms above his head. He has to look up to look at the brunette’s face and judging from his expression he’s not happy about it. Being that short he should be used to it though. Dazai wonders if he didn’t notice their height difference before, but considering how tired he was, it is possible.
It amuses Dazai that Chuuya looks at him as if he had literally insulted him by being so much taller. He looks like he has to restrain himself from pressing his hand to the top of Dazai’s head to push him eight inches into the ground so that their eyes are at the same level.
Chuuya takes off his backpack and places it on the ground. “I guess I can stay a bit.” He is already reaching for the front door’s handle. “I bought breakfast, but I’m not sure you should eat it if you don’t want to make a hole in the sky with your head,” he says looking totally serious, then jumps at the seat and turns on the radio.
He looks at the food and a half empty bottle of mandarin juice Chuuya left on the countertop, but instead of eating he gathers some clothes, fresh bandages and a toothbrush. “I’ll shower first, watch the van.”
“I’m not a guard dog, asshole!” Chuuya shouts at Dazai’s back.
In the shower he wonders if it was smart leaving an angry stranger in a van with all of his stuff, but his instincts and reading on people rarely fail him. And he’s sure that if the boy wanted to rob him or something, he would have done that already.
“You were right, Brothers in Arms is the best piece,” Chuuya admits when Dazai gets back.
“I always am.” He sits on the van's floor.
“I’m sure,” the redhead snorts. The album is playing from the beginning and the boy is making his way to the back of the van from the passenger’s seat. He thinks Chuuya is ready to leave but the boy settles himself on the floor in front of him.
The scent of soap and cinnamon wraps around him. Chuuya gathers his hair and ties them in a low bun using a hair elastic he pulls from his wrist.
“So, where are you headed?” the redhead asks.
“That’s actually an excellent question. I've been asking myself that for as long as I can remember, however the longer I live the more unclear the destination seems to me, it’s like no matter how far I get, it always gets further away.”
Chuuya looks at him unimpressed, he must be convinced he's talking to an imbecile. “I meant, where are you going now… you know, like driving ?” He gestures with his hands like he’s explaining something to a child.
Dazai laughs, “I know.”
Chuuya raises a brow. “Are you a philosopher or some shit like that?”
“Hmm, I might be some shit ,” Dazai answers with a serious face, making the boy laugh. “I think a lot , ” he adds.
“That must be tough,” the redhead snorts.
“Well, everything is ,” he sighs dramatically. They look at each other for a moment. “So, where are you headed then?” Dazai asks eventually.
“Nebraska at the moment.”
Neither of them has anything to say for a while, but then Dazai offers, “I guess you can tag along with me for now then.” He has a feeling Chuuya will go for it without hesitation.
“That would be great,” the boy answers quickly.
“You know how to drive though?”
“Duh,” Chuuya seems almost offended by the question. “Do I look like I can’t fucking drive?” To be honest, for some reason Chuuya looks like a pretty good driver.
“Oh, pardon me,” he raises his hands in a defensive gesture.
“What? Do you want me to drive?” Chuuya asks.
“I figured I could at least use you for that.”
The boy crosses his arms over his chest. “I bought you breakfast if you didn’t notice.”
“I noticed.” Dazai glances at the leftovers from Chuuya’s breakfast that the boy left on the countertop but doesn’t make a move to grab it. Chuuya glances in that direction too.
After another moment of quiet the redhead speaks. “So, you're the type who's always thinking of ways to take advantage of someone?”
“Hmm,” Dazai thinks for a moment. “I guess.”
Chuuya snorts and shakes his head slightly. Is he one of those decent people? Whatever that actually means. When Dazai doesn’t answer he adds, “I don’t mind.” Doesn’t he? “Driving,” he clarifies.
Opening the door to the driver’s seat, Chuuya pauses. “How do I know I’m not getting into a car with a psychopath?” He narrows his eyes on Dazai who is already sitting on the passenger’s seat.
Dazai snorts at the question. “You don’t. In fact I can already tell you that I’m actually a little mental,” he says matter of factly. “But don't you think you should have worried about it before you spent the night in my bed?”
Chuuya rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I was aware of the fact really.”
“Fair,” Dazai agrees. For a moment he considers whether to tell Chuuya the silly little fact about himself. For some reason he is extremely curious what his reaction would be and it’s enough of a reason to take a risk. “Well, I’m actually a runaway from a mental hospital, so I guess I’m more than just a little mental,” he decides to share.
Chuuya raises his eyebrows. “Wow, I figured you were crazy, but turns out you are actually an actual freak,” he says, closing the door as he takes a driver’s seat. He doesn’t look like he mistook it for a joke, which makes his response even more funny. Dazai chuckles as Chuuya turns the keys.
It turns out Chuuya not only doesn't mind driving, but he seems to feel like a fish in water. Dazai can clearly tell he simply enjoys it. Which is very convenient, because while Dazai actually doesn't mind driving, he prefers to sit on a passenger’s seat and stare out of the window.
He obviously didn’t miss the opportunity to make fun of Chuuya’s height when the boy had to adjust the seat and to point out Chuuya's wet pants on the hood of his van.
When the sun had started to set they decided to stop at some roadside diner for a night. The day flew by quickly, Chuuya was the one driving for the whole time. Dazai caught himself dozing off with his cheek on the car window a couple of times, but despite this, and not having to drive, he realizes that he is really tired. Maybe it’s only because he’s not used to spending all day with other people.
At the bar they take one of the seats along the windows, sitting in front of each other. Dazai listens in disbelief as Chuuya orders what must be half of the bar’s menu. He notices Chuuya lingers his eyes on the alcohol section but orders none. When a waitress with a high ponytail shifts her attention to Dazai he says with a smile, reserved for people like her, “Just the small fries please.” Chuuya raises his eyes on him but doesn’t comment.
Dazai however does comment when the waitress is back with the food. “How do you fit all that in such a small body?”
“A joke stops being funny when you hear it for the 20th time in the same day,” Chuuya raises his eyebrow. “And it was never funny to begin with.” He leans forward and starts eating his pizza, squeezing a significant amount of ketchup on it first. Last rays of sunshine light up half of his face, making his hair fiery against the red t-shirt. “How can you not be hungry? We haven’t eaten all day,” he asks with a full mouth. Chuuya’s words amuse Dazai, because he can recall at least four different things the boy ate today during the ride, including Dazai’s breakfast and the rest of mandarin juice Dazai didn’t touch.
“I don’t really feel it,” he answers and puts a fry in his mouth. It makes him realize he doesn’t actually want it, so he leans back against the seat and doesn’t continue eating.
“Like, you don’t feel hunger?” Chuuya asks in disbelief.
“I guess I feel it, I just don’t feel like eating anything,” he answers.
“But there must be something you like .”
“I guess, I like crab, and spicy rice curry with tofu and egg…” He smiles. “Monosodium glutamate isn’t bad either.”
“Okay, that’s… specific,” Chuuya laughs. “I’ve never eaten curry with an egg… I love spicy food though.” He ignores the last ‘dish’.
“I don’t.”
“Ha?”
“I don’t like spicy food, except for that one curry.”
“Okay,” Chuuya raises a brow. “As for a crab,” he points his finger at Dazai. “You would love my hometown. We have the best crab rolls. Some people come there just to try them.”
That rings a bell. “Are you maybe from Boston?” Dazai asks, resting his elbows on a table, as he looks at Chuuya investigatively.
“Yes! Have you been there? Don’t tell me you’re one of those people,” Chuuya laughs.
“I might be,” Dazai smiles playfully, but he feels an uncomfortable knot in his stomach at the memory of the ‘ trip ’.
“Seriously?” Chuuya laughs a little harder. “Did you like it?”
“I didn’t try it, actually,” Dazai admits.
“Then the hell did you come to Boston for?” Chuuya crosses his arms over his chest, still smiling.
“My dad took me to the baseball game for my 15th birthday,” Dazai says. “And I don’t even like sports,” he adds, trying not to dwell on that day.
“No shit! My parents took me to the baseball game for my 15th birthday too!” Chuuya shouts surprised, slamming his open palms on the table, and at the same time someone’s Coke bottle crashes at the bar and attracts everyone’s attention for a second.
The sun has just set, leaving behind a warmed-up room. There are some people drinking at the bar, but most of the customers sit by the tables along the windows, eating meals from the limited bar offerings. The interior decor is low-budget but somehow interesting, and there is a pleasant, calm atmosphere inside.
“Quite a coincidence,” Dazai says, pulling his attention away from the crashed bottle.
“Yeah,” Chuuya answers and looks down at Dazai’s plate full of fries. “Are you gonna eat that?”
Dazai pushes his plate towards him, “You know, I once read somewhere that snails and slugs have evolved to eat just about everything, you remind me of one of them.”
Chuuya raises his eyebrows. “You read some very interesting shit.”
“Right?” Dazai waves a hand. “You also wriggle at night like a little slug.”
Chuuya snorts. “If I’m a slug, then you are a fucking mackerel.”
“And why’s that?”
“Don’t know,” Chuuya narrows his eyes on Dazai, “your choice of colors. And something in your eyes.”
Dazai kind of expects to hear now that his eyes resemble a dead fish, and he couldn’t even argue with that, but Chuuya doesn’t say anything more.
“It’s still better than a slug, mackerel’s brain is far more developed,” Dazai says and stands up from the table, before Chuuya can glare at him. “I’ll ask at the bar if we can park here for the night.”
“Pay while you’re there.” Chuuya takes a few bills out of his pocket and hands it to Dazai, who takes it without a word and heads towards the bar. He is seriously running out of money, so this is convenient.
“How old are you?” asks Dazai lying on a van’s bed. The back door is wide open, letting in the pleasant night breeze and the scent of cigarette smoke from Chuuya’s red Marlboro. He stands outside, leaning his back against the bed.
“Twenty-two,” he answers, flipping a lighter between his fingers, not looking at Dazai. “You?”
“Hmmm,” Dazai lets out a hum. “There's a chance we already crossed paths,” he adds after a few quiet seconds.
“What?” Chuuya glances at him over his shoulder, letting the cigarette smoke out of his lungs.
“We might have been at the same baseball game in Boston,” says Dazai matter of factly.
“How come?” Chuuya narrows his eyes.
“I’m twenty-two as well, and we both were fifteen when we were at the game.”
“Not a chance. They were playing in sets for several days in a row. What are the odds we were at the exact same game?” Chuuya’s tone is doubtful.
“June 19th 1978,” Dazai continues.
“Like I would remember the exact date,” Chuuya rolls his eyes and then squats down to extinguish a cigarette.
“The Red Sox won 10 to 4 against the Yankees.” Dazai doesn’t know why he even remembers this useless information.
“No shit!” Chuuya stands up, facing Dazai with wide eyes. ”It actually was the same play.” They look at each other surprised. “But we probably didn't even see each other in that crowd.”
“But we could, ” Dazai insists.
“Yeah, we could , but we probably didn’t, ” Chuuya laughs.
“Maybe we did, and we just don’t remember.” To be honest Dazai is sure he could go face to face with a dinosaur that day and doesn’t even remark on it, that’s how detached he was. On the other hand he remembers baseball game scores and something tells him that the color of Chuuya’s hair is exactly the thing that would catch his attention just then.
“Sure.” Chuuya gets into the van and closes the back door.
Dazai pats the mattress when he sees his gaze linger on the bed. “There’s enough space, it was fine last night.” He knows it’s a little different from the previous night for the boy, because yesterday he didn’t consciously decide to sleep with a stranger, but fell asleep without thinking. And to be honest the thought of spending another night with someone in his bed makes him a bit anxious too, but he will pretend to be cool about it.
“Can I sleep on the outside of the bed?” Chuuya asks.
“Fine with me, why?”
“Just…” he hesitates, “I prefer it that way.”
Dazai hums and shifts to the other side of the bed. He doesn’t face Chuuya but feels the mattress sinking under his weight as he lays down. The smell of cigarettes fills his nostrils.
I'm a long way from the land that I left
I've been running through life and cruising toward death
If you think that I'm scared you've got me wrong
If you don't know my name, you'll know it now