Chuuya scowled at himself. And at the hand holding his phone. And at the curb he managed to stumble over when he stepped onto the sidewalk. And at the fact that he was acting like some sort of love struck woman. (Granted, he may have been mistaken as a girl once or twice, maybe even three times, but that wasn't the point.)
As he ambled down the pathway littered with brown leaves, Chuuya scrolled through the days worth of texting that spanned into the early morning hours; each late night ending with a 'sweet dreams, Chuuya'. He huffed at the joking, the teasing, and the flirting—which he wasn't particularly skilled in, and the guy never let him forget it—in search of the message he had received many days before; the words that were burned into his mind's eye, but haven't been mentioned since:
"I won't be if Chuuya decides to meet me."
The redhead clicked his teeth together when his thumb finally settled next to the gray bubble; it displayed the idea that has been driving him up the wall. It didn't stop him from re-reading it, though, and the frustration behind it did make him want to punch something—or rather, someone. Particularly the one who has annoyed him since the day he was run over in the rain; the one who managed to work their way underneath his skin; the one whose aggravating smile caused butterflies to flutter in his stomach; the one who was always on his mind and determined to stay there. Between Dazai and the nicknamed Mackerel, Nakahara wondered if they were in cahoots and planned to drive him crazy. He briefly considered finding a way to kill them both.
Unfortunately, that endeavor would have to wait. Thanks to Nakajima Atsushi, who simply exists in the universe, Akutagawa was in the most passive aggressive and melodramatic of ways—which, in turn, pissed off Chuuya. The situation led him on a journey in search of something to brighten his co-worker's mood.
So there he was, strolling down the street toward the bakery, dodging other people while he glanced at his phone every so often. Chuuya barely managed to pry his fingers off of it when he finally stood in front of Kunikida's Sweet Dreams. Sighing, he stuffed the device into his trousers' pocket; it felt as if it were burning a hole in the material. He shrugged off the sensation, then opened the shop's door and walked through its entrance. A little bell hanging above the egress announced his arrival. His phone vibrated at nearly the same time, sending butterflies fluttering in his stomach and excited chills coursing down his spine.
Ignoring the notification, Chuuya stepped forward, casually making his way over to the young woman crouched behind the dessert display. When she saw him through the glass, she stood and waved.
"Hi, Nakahara-san," chirped Naomi Tanizaki with a smile.
Chuuya opened his mouth to return the greeting, but was interrupted by the firm pat that thumped against the top of his head; the unexpected touch nearly sent him skyrocketing through the roof. He looked over his shoulder. Considering the bad mood Akutagawa had put him in, the redhead was happy that the natural color in his cheeks remained unphased.
"Chuuya~!" squealed Dazai, his eyes bursting with stars and glitter. "I know you've missed me, but I never thought you'd come looking for me. I'm flattered, hat rack."
Officially blushing the deepest of reds, Nakahara whirled around and glared up at the brunet. He crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his nose in the air, tapping his foot against the laminate floor. "What are you doing here?"
Dazai put a hand in his coat pocket and nonchalantly gestured around the room with the other. "Working."
Chuuya's eyebrows shot up. "Working," he echoed.
The brunet grinned the most angelic of grins—in spite of the fact that he looked to be up to no good and aimed to destroy someone's day, seeing as he lived to be an insatiable prankster with suicidal tendencies—and nodded. "Yes."
Chuuya let an arm drop, placing its hand on his jutted hip. "Wow," he hummed. "I'm surprised you have a job. I've been wondering what you do when your lazy self isn't bothering me." After he spoke, the tips of his ears dusted a pale pink. He took a moment to clear his throat, then added, "Forget I said that."
A display of fireworks lit up behind Dazai's brown eyes and he practically bounced on his feet. "I'm glad to know I was right, though I didn't doubt it for a second."
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked the redhead, his brow scrunched up in confusion with a dash of dread at what the man might say next.
"It means, Chuuya, that you've been thinking about me ever since you ran me over in the rain."
"And maybe I should've killed you that day; I would've been doing us both a favor," the redhead grumbled. He jabbed a gloved finger at the perpetual thorn in his side. "And you're the one who ran into me, you idiot."
After the words flew past his lips, the brunet practically melted on the spot, and Chuuya was certain that the man only heard one thing during his scolding. "Chuuya's so kind, putting my hopes and dreams before anything else," Dazai sighed.
Nakahara rolled his blue eyes. "Well, if you're done harassing me, I need to place an order and leave."
"Oh!" chimed Dazai. "That reminds me." He held up a finger, silently telling the other to wait before he strolled toward the dessert display and stepped around it.
A couple of minutes later, he returned with a small turquoise box, its lid etched with Kunikida's Sweet Dreams in silver letters. Smiling, Dazai presented it to Chuuya.
The redhead cocked an eyebrow. "What's this?"
"It's Chuuya's gift," replied Dazai with a slight shrug of his shoulder.
Chuuya held out his hand. "I hope you're not using this pay off your tab."
Dazai's hand flew up to his chest, and his fingers clenched the material of his black waistcoat; it was then that Chuuya realized the man wasn't wearing his tan coat, and his covert eye appreciated it.
"I would never do such a thing, chibi!" gasped Dazai while he placed the dessert in Nakahara's palm.
"How about you pay it now?" asked Chuuya, the corners of his lips curling in a challenging smirk.
Pouting dramatically, Dazai reached into his pockets and turned them inside out. "Sorry, chibi," he apologized with an embarrassed shrug, "looks like I'm broke."
"I thought so," commented Chuuya.
"But!" Dazai continued. "I will pay it this Friday." Using his index finger, he crossed it over his heart. "I promise."
"Excuse me, Dazai-san?"
Glancing toward the counter, Dazai looked at the girl. "Yes, Naomi-chan?"
"Kunikida-san said that since you ruined his schedule today and made him late for a meeting with a potential client, he might withhold your pay."
Dazai waved the words away. "Kunikida-kun'll fork it over, anyway. Maybe he'll finally loosen up, too."
Curious in regard to someone else's agony brought on by Dazai's pranks, Chuuya asked, "What did you do to him?"
"I may or may not have temporarily—and accidentally—dyed his teeth black."
"Accidentally?" mused Nakahara.
"Yep!" chirped Dazai. "He must've gotten ahold of the black icing I made earlier this morning. Although it was delicious, I added a touch too much coloring to the mix."
"Then why didn't you throw it away?"
"Because Kunikida-kun's meeting was important."
"You're horrible," Chuuya scoffed, slapping his arm against his side. Deep down, and in spite of the other man's suffering, he was glad he wasn't the only one on the receiving end of the brunet's whims.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash from behind a swinging metal door. Chuuya's head whipped in its direction, and he listened as an irate voice screeched, cursing about a certain bandage squandering machine.
"Sounds like Kunikida-kun's back."
Chuuya glanced at the brunet, who was unexpectedly inches away from his face; he could feel a bright blush threatening to warm his cheeks. Dazai graced him with a sly smile, then he leaned to the side to whisper in his ear.
"By the way," murmured Dazai, "If Chuuya truly likes what he sees—and I believe he does—I'll gladly leave my coat behind the next time I visit him."
Blushing against his own will, Chuuya glowered. "You're imagining things." The responding chuckle tickled his ears, the warm breath blowing through his curls. He briefly considered kneeing Dazai in the stomach, and send him careening across the room and through the front window until he flew into oncoming traffic.
"We'll see about that," Dazai muttered. "Until then, enjoy the cupcake, hat rack; I made it just for you."
Then, without another word, he tapped Chuuya on the nose.
Days later, Chuuya stood by a display, silently cursing himself while he reached for a book before placing it on the table, decorating it in order to make the novel as appealing as possible. A part of him wondered if it was his autobiography—Nakahara Chuuya, the yandere girl pining after the soon-to-be dead guy Dazai Osamu. He felt pathetic. Even more so, knowing that the bastard knew he was waiting for him to show up. That unfortunate knowledge led his mind to wander toward the note Dazai had tucked into the box containing a moscato cupcake donned with pink icing.
The sounds of books clattering to the floor startled him from his reverie. Huffing, Chuuya dropped to his knees and began collecting the merchandise.
"What're you doing?" asked Akutagawa, approaching the flustered redhead.
"Nothing," muttered Chuuya.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his co-worker's pale hand beckoning for a book.
"Rather than make a mess, why don't you just pick one?"
"Eh?"
Exhaling a ridiculously dramatic sigh, Akutagawa began arranging the display with each book handed over to him.
"You like Dazai-san," he clarified, "and seeing as he's constantly showing up here to annoy you, and me, he likes you, too."
The back of Chuuya's neck burned hotter than the sun. "No, he doesn't."
"And now you're always checking your phone and that distracts you," insisted Ryuunosuke. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was Dazai-san on the other end."
Nearly falling over, Chuuya loudly snorted, albeit a bit maniacally—or horrifically. "I doubt it."
Another three days later, and feeling like a Class-A dumbass for waiting for the waste of bandages to strut through the front door, a pissed off Chuuya quickly finished the book display (whose items surprising sold out at record speeds) then headed toward the storage room where he sat at a small round table. Scooping out his phone from his pocket, Chuuya pressed on the home button, and when the screen lit up, he was greeted by the usual message he always looks forward to; he would never admit it to a soul, though.
[1:24 P.M Mackerel] Chuuya!
[1:24 P.M Mackerel] Chuuya!
[1:24 P.M Mackerel] What're you doing, Chu-u-ya? (￣▼￣)
Sighing, the redhead took off his black gloves and sat them on the table. He picked up his phone and typed a reply.
[1:25 P.M] What do you want?
[1:25 P.M Mackerel] To talk to my petite chou, of course.
A bright scarlet infused Chuuya's cheeks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth while he simultaneously desired to pummel the guy's face.
[1:28 P.M] I'm not your little cream puff.
[1:28 P.M] And I'm not little either.
[1:30 P.M Mackerel] Yes, you are.
[1:31 P.M] No, I'm not.
[1:31 P.M Mackerel] Oh, yes you are.
Exasperated, Chuuya gripped the phone as a creepy cooing sound echoed in his ear; he could practically hear the man's taunts. He scowled.
[1:33 P.M] Will you cut it out?
[1:35 P.M Mackerel] No. (⌒.−)
It was time to change the subject before the conversation went on like this forever; Chuuya knew the man on the other end of the line would love it, too.
[1:35 P.M] Do you exist just to drive me crazy?
[1:35 P.M Mackerel] Pretty much.
[1:36 P.M Mackerel] But you wouldn't have me any other way.
No, no he wouldn't. But, he decided to keep that to himself.
[1:38 P.M] If that's what you need to tell yourself so you feel better, don't do it.
[1:40 P.M Mackerel] Awww, Chuuya!
[1:40 P.M Mackerel] Why are you sooo mean to me?
[1:41 P.M] Maybe if you stop being a pain in my ass, I'll start being a bit nicer.
[1:43 P.M Mackerel] Eh, never mind.
"Tch," tutted Chuuya, rolling his narrowed eyes at the illuminated screen.
[1:46 P.M] You're just as bad as the guy who keeps bothering me while I'm at work.
[1:46 P.M Mackerel] He totally sounds amazing, if I can say so myself.
[1:47 P.M] Just as frustrating and annoying, too.
[1:48 P.M Mackerel] I'm sure we both do our best to drive my petite mafia crazy.
Although he silently agreed with Mackerel in regard to sending him on the train to insanity, Chuuya was embarrassed by the heat rising in his cheeks. He really needed to get himself together.
[1:49 P.M] Is it hopeless to get you to stop calling me lame nicknames?
[1:49 P.M Mackerel] Yes!
A soft harrumph noise exhaled through the redhead's nose; the fool was exhausting. Using his thumbs, he tapped against the screen, no doubt signaling a reply via the floating gray dots, but his retorting banter was cut off when the shop's door opened, its bell chiming.
Chuuya locked his phone and shoved it into his pocket, then tugged on his black gloves before heading out to the front. While he strolled through the passage connecting the storage room to the storefront, he was slightly shocked to realize that a small part of him hoped it was the idiot who had him waiting by the display for days. To his amazement, he was disappointed when he was greeted, not by the long-legged mummy, but by a customer wearing a newsboy cap waiting on the other side of the counter; he was adamantly ignoring Akutagawa in favor of staring Chuuya down.
"Can I help you with something?" he asked.
"You forgot a book while you were waiting by the display for Dazai-kun," the customer replied. "He has it."
"Eh?" Chuuya blurted out.
Off to the side, Akutagawa tsked. The redhead cast him a sidelong glance.
"He's saying Dazai-san's in the storage room," offered Akutagawa.
Chuuya looked over his shoulder. "How the hell did he get back there? I locked the door."
Slumping forward and placing his elbow on the counter, Akutagawa batted his free hand in the back room's direction. "Tch, just go talk to him."
"And don't forget the book!" added the customer, his green eyes boring into Chuuya's blue.
Sighing, Nakahara nodded. He walked into the storage area, and when he caught sight of Dazai, his footsteps stumbled.
"W-what the hell are you doing up there?" he sputtered, gaping up at the brunet. "Get off the ladder before you hurt yourself, you shithead!"
Dazai gazed down at him from the very top of the ladder leaning against the shelves, pausing with a book in his hand. "That's actually not a bad idea, chibi: falling to my death." He placed the item on the top shelf. "But I think Chuuya would miss me if I died," he added as he wrapped his hands around the ladder's side rails and slowly descended.
"You seriously need a hobby."
"I do have one: bothering you until you answer all the wonderful notes I've given you. Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to ignore people?"
"Isn't that what everyone else does when you're being a pain?"
The brunet paused, turning slightly to face him. He placed a hand over his heart. "Who knew someone so small could be so cruel?"
Chuuya scoffed. "I could always kick your ass."
Grinning, Dazai resumed climbing down. "Something tells me I should be afraid, but I don't think Chuuya can reach—whoa!"
Suddenly, Dazai's foot slipped on a rung and he tumbled onto the floor, landing in a pile of open boxes. Seconds later, Chuuya heard an agonizing groan.
"Chuuya…"
"Holy shit—!" exclaimed Chuuya, rushing toward the seemingly injured Dazai Osamu.
He dropped to his knees and began tossing boxes of all shapes and sizes, all the while absently wondering why there were so many after the recycling had already been collected as he threw them off to the sides.
After he was finished flinging the empty packages to wherever they had landed, he found Dazai in a heap, surrounded by wayward cardboard, his long limbs tangled in brown paper and bubble wrap.
Scooting closer to Dazai, Chuuya's wide blue eyes roved over the other's prone form. "Are you—"
His mouth dropped open, his question dying on his tongue as he sucked in a harsh rush of air—the boxcutter that was usually stashed inside of the utility closet was lodged in Dazai's shoulder; he held it tightly while his face washed over with pain. The color in Chuuya's own quickly drained.
"Stay here," he ordered, his words scaling an octave; he wasn't proud of the slight hitch in his voice. "I'll go get help." The redhead made a move to stand, but a bandaged hand wrapped around his wrist, holding him firmly in place. He stared down at Dazai.
"You need to let go before you—"
"Chibi," the waste of bandages rasped, "I need to ask you something."
"I don't think now's the time, you bastard!" Chuuya tried to yank his arm free, but Dazai only tightened his grasp. "Do you wanna bleed to death?" he added through gritted teeth, pulling yet again.
In spite of the unyielding grip, the brunet gently squeezed his wrist. "True, this isn't how I wanted to go; it's too painful," he breathed, "but before I die"—and Chuuya scowled—"will you get coffee with me?"
Sputtering, Nakahara's jaw practically dropped down to the floor. "I can't get coffee with your suicidal ass if you're already dead!"
Dazai pouted, in what Chuuya believed to be, the most dramatic of pouts. "Indulge me, please?"
"Fine!" he snapped. "Let go of me, and if you manage to live, I'll get coffee with you."
The grip on his wrist disappeared.
With a bright smile, Dazai removed the boxcutter—whose blade hadn't been ejected, after all—and waved it in front of Chuuya.
"Wait—what?!" squealed Chuuya. "Did you just—" He rose up on his knees, his knuckles cracking inside of his black gloves. His teeth clicked together, and a furious shade of red blossomed on his cheeks while steam hissed out of his ears.
Dazai flashed him the most devilish of smirks and playfully winked. Tossing the cutter onto a shelf, he sat up and dusted off the front of his trousers. He made an attempt to push himself up from the floor, but Chuuya beat him to the punch.
"You bastard!" The redhead reached out a gloved hand and shoved the other onto the floor, nearly sending him skidding across it into another pile of boxes. "I can't believe you pulled that!"
"Aww," Dazai cooed, his grin widening to tooth-rotteningly sweet levels, "was Chuuya worried about me?"
"Phfft, no!"
"Well, as you can see, no blood," pointed of Dazai, gesturing at his shoulder. He placed a hand behind himself and used it to push himself up, his knees bending along the way. He held out a hand to Chuuya. "On the bright side, it did get you to finally agree to a date, since someone can't reply to a simple note."
Sneering softly, Chuuya took the proffered hand and allowed the brunet to hoist him up; the touch burned his skin despite his gloves. Luckily, he managed not to blush.
"How does this weekend sound?" questioned Dazai, smiling down at a red-faced and pissed off Chuuya.
He wasn't a man to go back on his word, but he glowered, regardless. "Fine. And for the record, it's coffee, not a date."
Dazai placed his hand on top of Chuuya's head, and gave it a gentle pat. "If that's what you'd like to tell yourself."
"Dazai-kun!" called a loud voice.
Warm brown eyes glimmering with amusement, and to Chuuya's annoyance, victory locked onto his own. They looked at one another, neither daring to lose in their impromptu staring contest.
"Yes, Ranpo-san?"
"I'm bored," Edogawa whined.
Both men heard a "tch" that was followed by the sound of Ryuunosuke's voice.
"If you're bored, why are you here?"
"I had an appointment today with Yosano-sensei, and since I didn't know my way there, Dazai-kun agreed to go with me," answered Ranpo. "And he said we could pick up snacks if we stopped here so he can ask Mr. Fancy Hat for coffee."
"Are you serious?"
"Fancy Hat agreed, so yes I am."
The fire burning behind Chuuya's glare was enough to damn the average person to hell. But to his aggravation, Dazai took it in stride by batting his eyelashes sweetly. Chuuya immediately wanted to choke the life out of the demon who's been torturing his poor soul. But before he could crack his knuckles in preparation to wrap his slender fingers around the other's neck, he was caught off guard when Dazai placed his hand on top of his head, yet again; the touch was warm and actually quite soothing to Chuuya's frayed nerves.
"I'll see you soon, chibi," promised Dazai. "I look forward to our date."
"It's not a date," countered Chuuya.
Chuckling, Dazai strolled toward the storefront, waving the other's words away with a backward switch of his hand over his shoulder. "Whatever you say, Chuuya~"
Nakahara trailed behind him, his feet stomping against the floor. The two men walked into the room where Akutagawa sat by the coffee machine, glowering while Ranpo flipped through a random book, quietly complaining about how boring it was.
"Let's head back to the bakery, Ranpo-san," said Dazai.
Edogawa peered at Dazai over the rim of his glasses. "About time. I'm hungry." He snapped the book shut and scurried out the door.
On his way to the egress, Dazai placed a book on the appropriate display, and when he made it to the exit, he stopped with his hand on the doorknob, and turned to Chuuya; the redhead could feel his cheeks warming. With a swoon-worthy smile, the brunet winked and walked out the door.
"It's about time," sighed Akutagawa.
Chuuya crossed his arms and leaned against the table. "What?"
His co-worker, who was scribbling on a piece of paper, turned his head far enough to barely look at Chuuya. "You've been waiting by the display for days, Chuuya-san."
Cocking his eyebrow, Nakahara huffed. "So?"
Akutagawa rolled his gray eyes. "If you didn't want him to ask you out, you wouldn't have been waiting like the note asked." Exhaling another sigh, he focused back on the paper, but not before giving a double take to the other.
"He took your hat again."
Chuuya's hands flew up to his head; his fingers effortlessly ran through his curly tresses. Flushing and ticked off, he gaped. "Tch, that bastard," he growled.
The door opened again, its bell tinkling. Both employees turned toward it. Moving to the aisle closest to the wall, a tall blonde woman slowly made her way toward the coffee service area.
Akutagawa made a squeak—which was something Chuuya never imagined he'd hear, and it was quite frankly off-putting—and dropped his pen, not giving a care in the world that it rolled across the table before it clattered onto the floor.
"Chuuya-san, can I take my break?"
Chuuya snorted. "Go ahead."
His co-worker didn't hesitate to practically fly into the storage room, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. The corners of Chuuya's lips curled into a grin. He faced their new customer.
"Can I help you with anything, Higuchi-san?"