"Attention, class. You will be showcasing your tables to the guest speaker today."

Mr. Kunikida had spoken loudly at the front of the room, for all the students to hear.

The classroom wasn't exactly a... classroom— per say. It was more of a warehouse, because this was the main engineering center where the students would build and get messy. Wooden scraps laid everywhere, risks of splinters had no end, and the teachers didn't really bother cleaning the room because it would end up just as messy the next day.

Chuuya had a rough time getting his table from well... from here to there. Paul had to end up boosting it into the back of his truck and drive him to school today. He also had helped Chuuya bring the table in, getting a glimpse of the indoor mess of Chuuya's engineering life.

"Once a messy child always a messy child." He murmured, causing the younger to eye roll.

Chuuya was now sat with all the students and their tables, all different sizes, colors, types, and some weren't even done yet— all were just waiting for the reveal of the guest who was apparently going to "grade" them.

A few moments later, Mr. Kunikida seemed to be getting a bit... fidgety. Impatient. He looked down to his wrist watch, peeking at the time due to it already being 15 minutes into class, and the guest hasn't showed up yet.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Kunikida?" A classmate had asked, a young girl.

"No." Kunikida lied, pushing up his glasses. "Our guest is just running a bit... late, is all." He grumbled under his breathe at the last words, as if he were mad.

"Kunikidaaaaaa!~~~~~"

Suddenly, all the students turned their heads to the great big doorway to their class's warehouse. A loud, light but boyish voice sang-songed their teacher's name in a way none of them would dare doing so.

Chuuya's heart dropped to the bottom of his ass, and he suddenly felt the urge to crush his entire table project because for some unknown reason, he felt he already knew that his day will about to be ruined.

"Kunikida!" A familiar brunette yelled joyfully, hopping into the door's entrance.

Chuuya punched the side of his table, thanking God it didn't break.

"You're late!" The teacher yelled at him, stomping up to his guest. "Do you know how long you kept my kids waiting?! Huh?! This is a charter school, not a crappy public one! You should feel honored having a chance to be with my class!"

"Wow, Kunikida!" Dazai said, setting his things down without hesitation on top of the teacher's belongings— clearly not caring about the difference between public or charter. "You seem to have some sort of discrimination in your classroom, should I call OSHA?" He asked, looking over to him with a soft smile.

"OSHA is the service to help workers with work; environmental accidents and issues, that would not be the place to go to, dumbass." Kunikida pushed up his glasses once more, trying his best— not doing great, but his best to keep his cool.

As the two argued up front, Chuuya was sure the brunette hadn't looked at him not even once so far. Weird... he did sit in the back, but his fiery red hair had to at least stand out from the crowd. Thank God it didn't attract the attention though.

At some random point, Dazai finally started talking to the class. Chuuya didn't know how long it took for the two upfront to stop arguing; but he could've sworn he almost fell asleep and thanked his teacher for letting this be a free day.

Almost, anyway.

"Hello, kiddos. I'm Dazai, Dazai Osamu." He said, his name rolling right off the tip of his tongue. "I'm an engineer, like yourselves. I'm 17 years old, and I already have my license."

Wait, what?

So...

Chuuya had to think for a second, but before he could the man kept yappin.

"My father owns an engineering company for motor oil. Mori's Motor Oil, and growing up he thought I was going to be just like him; but..."

He smiled, pulling something out of a folder and smacking it down on a table in front of him, a student sitting at it quirking a brow at the illustration in front of them.

"...little did he know, I had my own purpose to serve. Not his." He then picked the image up, and turned it around to the class. "Brevity," he said, "the act of spreading a message to an audience in the shortest way possible; a simple way."

Chuuya squeezed his eyes to see the image.

The picture was the in-depth drawing of a human heart. A sketch, made with what looked to be charcoal pencils. Around the heart looked to be coils, barbed wire: burning hot and melting into the heart. The heart had blood dripping down from it, and the valves and the veins were pressured to keep on pumping blood but the wires and metal kept on making it harder and harder for it to go on.

Chuuya felt sort of hollow looking at it; agonized.

"Can somebody tell me; what message do you receive, when looking at this image?"

Instantly, a few hands were raised up. He picked a girl sitting to the left of the room, and she confidently said,

"It seems to be a heart, being suffocated by... love?"

Dazai smiled.

"Almost. You're getting close." He said. He pointed to another student.

"The pressure to... keep going?"

"Very, very close..." he said, and as he was about to pick someone else—

Chuuya says,

"Its symbolizing somebody holding back something for so long. The bottling up of feelings and the hatred of their own mind manifesting coils around their heart that it makes them choke on their own blood. The heart, or person, is pressured by everyone around them to keep on living and to serve a purpose in life and to keep on looking forward when all they can see is the old monsters creeping behind their back and pulling them back into the past. Eventually killing them."

The room went silent for a still moment after a few seconds, Chuuya sat there in his seat; slouched, hands in his pockets, biting his gum, and pretending as if the scenario was not bothering him one bit.

But, after those few seconds— Dazai found the courage to smile. Smile sadistically, almost in a challenging way towards the shorter boy. He definitely remembers me Chuuya thought.

"Correct." Dazai said, "it's a heart. A heart indeed, a heart that just wants attention."

That sentence made Chuuya furrow his brows, and anger rose up in his body. He didn't know why, but it did.

"To want attention from somebody is not always a bad thing. Wanting attention from another human can either be a flash of photography on the red carpet, or a cry for help."

Chuuya's veins suddenly felt cold.

A cry for help?

"Don't you see how big of a message such a tiny image can convey?" The brunette said, setting the image down and putting it aside. "Design is one of the key elements of engineering; building. Selling and buying. If you have a boring machine that doesn't give the buyer a message upon first glance, nobody is going to use your machine except for you; who built it."

"So, that's why you decided to rebuild my entire fucking machine without consent, huh?!"

Chuuya yelled out of instinct, he couldn't help it. He got the message, design can be important, sure. But, really? The dude had to refine his entire damn project?!

He could've at-least asked first?!

Kunikida stood from his seat, putt his hand up in a diffusing manner. "Hey, hey—now, Chuuya." The teacher said, looking to his guest. "Did you actually..."

Dazai nodded.

Kunikida facepalmed.

The teacher looked to his student. "We can talk about it later and see what we can do about it if it's really an issue, okay?"

"Nah." Chuuya said, crossing his arms. He looked to Dazai. "I have no problem with the piece of shit machine, it's the dude who did it. He could've asked, the problem is that he didn't."

Dazai put up his hands as if he were innocent. "It was my first day in the school! How was I supposed to know I shouldn't touch the crappy cotton candy machine in the lunch room?!"

"It's not crappy!" Yuan suddenly yelled, annoyed.

"What she said." Shirase concluded.

"Anyways." Dazai said, moving the conversation forward. He brought his hands together, like an excited child. "Let's grade the tables! Shall we?"

He started with the front, grading each one individually based on design.

Great. Chuuya thought.

When the man finally came up to the very last seat; Chuuya's, he could've sworn he saw the other trying to hold back a laugh from looking at the table he crafted.

"You call that a table?"

"Well what the fuck do you call a table?"

Dazai moved out of the way, and pointed to the front. Yuan had made and decorated her table. She had a nice, glossy, smooth and linoleum finished masterpiece with metal foldable legs holding it up.

And then, Chuuyas was chopped up wood with screws, staples, wood glue, and normal table shit all stuck together. But, if you weren't that careful you could get a splinter from touching the corners of the outer ends. But it was perfectly usable, Chuuya had to argue. He just didn't have enough time to buff the wood and smooth it out, but if he had done that it would've been perfect, damnit.

"Well, I don't go to the store and buy fancy shit when creating. I go to the scrap yard and use all I can find there."

"..."

"What, are you judging me?"

"Yes."

"Why the hell shouldn't I do that? I'm not rich—or something?"

"Chuuya..." Dazai sighed, sitting on the edge of the sturdy table. Well, atleast it holds. Dazai thought. "...if you're really going to become an engineer; you're going to have to invest and find real engineering supplies and become the person you see yourself being in the future. You can't stay the scrapyard punk kid forever."

"How do you know my name?"

"Class list!"

"Ah..." Chuuya groaned, leaning back on the table and not bothering to even look at the man. "You're right… I just—" He sighed. "Just please, if you ever do anything again, ask before you do it."

"Sure."

As Dazai was about to walk away, he felt somebody grab his arm.

He looked back, and Chuuya was staring daggers at him. Piercing his eyes.

"Please."

"Yeah, okay."

And he walked away.

6 years ago

"His heartbeat is about 120 beats per minute, I'm going to have to send him home for now."

Kouyou stood in the nurse's office doorway, her eyes trained on her son sitting on the small bed. Sweat dripped down his face, his body was flushed red, and he was breathing very heavily.

"Do you know what has caused this?"

"It could be dehydration, low blood circulation, but we see this a lot in children this age. It's common for teenagers to have a low-grade heart disorder that messes with their puberty stage. Does Chuuya have any heart disorders that you know of?" The nurse asked.

"He was born with neurogenic heart syncope, but that's all I know of. I've seen him this way a few times but that was… those were— different… different circumstances."

The nurse looked to Chuuya, a gentle look on her face. "Are you having any other symptoms. Chuuya, why are you holding your stomach?"

The boy was holding his stomach, nothing seemed to be there but he acted as if it were a pouch.

"I'm…" He started getting even more red, his face blushing. "I—I'm having diaherrea really bad… and I can't go number 2 n—normally…" he murmured nervously, looking away.

"I'm very proud of you for saying that, Chuuya-kun. It takes a lot of courage for us to tell the truth about our problems when they feel humiliating. But you have nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart. These things are completely normal."

His mother frowned, looking to her son. "She's right, Chuuya darling. You can tell me these things, you know?"

"I know…" He fiddled his thumbs. "It's embarrassing, though… I feel like everyone is secretly laughing at me."

"Well…" the nurse looked down and started writing on a notepad. "I'm going to write a note, and make sure Chuuya-kun here gets into a good, recommended GI doctor immediately."

"Oh…" Kouyou said. "I—I don't have the—"

"No worries!" The nurse said. "Since it's from the school, all profits will be made by the school district. Nothing to worry about; It's all government profited."

A look of sudden relief seemed to stretch across Kouyou's face as the nurse handed her the note.

Chuuya was still frowning, holding his stomach as they walked out to the car.

"This is very common among tweens and teens who deal with stress, anxiety, and mental health issues." Said the GI doctor, an older man around his mid-thirties it seemed. "Chuuya, do you have things around you that cause you much stress?"

Chuuya stopped for a good minute. He couldn't think of anything that is currently causing him stress. His friends at school are fun, he comes home and Ugh he hates homework.

At night he sleeps, usually with mom. And, when mom works night shifts…

Well— on the bright side his life is mostly fair! So yes, he would say he's fine.

Very fine.

"No, I'm pretty okay. Homework is a bit annoying, but other than that everything is fine."

"Would you call yourself a student that strives for perfection in everything he does?"

Chuuya laughed.

"In my dreams."

"Chuuya, knock it off." Kouyou murmured, a bit embarrassed.

"I see…" He said, writing random crap down on some notepad. "Okay, I'm gonna do an examination now. Would you prefer a girl or a guy?"

"What do you mean—"

"I think he prefers a boy." Kouyou said calmly. "Usually that's how children work, the same gender."

"Alrighty!" The doctor said, and Chuuya didn't have enough time to even process what was going on before the assistants of the doctors had started moving and shuffling around, surrounding the little boy on the bed and instructing him to lie down and on his side.

One of the nurses pulled out a big sheet, covering Chuuya's lower half and causing the boy to furrow his brows.

"Hey, what's going on—"

"So, Chuuya." The doctor started, putting germ-X on his bare hands and then getting out this familiar looking white-looking bottle.

Chuuya could feel the hot coils start to wrap around his heart.

"Don't worry, Chuuya Dear! It'll be over soon enough!"

"I'm going to put some lube on my first two knuckles on my index finger, and then I'm going to insert it into your anus. I know," the doctor said, as if it was the most normal thing ever. "It sounds scary, but it'll be over before you know it. I'm just going to quickly look for any palettes, abnormalities, tumors, and see how big or if anything is wrong in there."

Chuuya was completely frozen in place listening to the words, the nurses around him acted as if they saw this scene every single day. Chuuya felt as if his body were melting underneath molten lava right about now.

"So, Chuuya-kun, could we pull down your pants for you?"

"I…"

His hesitation was their green light.

One second later— no, not even a second later, his pants were down. His bare butt completely shown to some grown man he barely even knows, and suddenly a slithering feeling enters the underside of his body.

It didn't feel like two knuckles, it felt like 10. It felt painful.

And laying there, in the hospital bed— he could've sworn when he closed his eyes he felt as if he were somewhere else.

As if he were in a dusty old and crumby basement. Being pushed into an old and gross couch. Another sweaty body atop his own, dominating his innocence and eating it slowly like some parasite.

Like some zombie, but a zombie that has knowledge. Complete knowledge of what it's doing and eating. What it's harming. A monster fully grown and birthed into existence with its only purpose to destroy the innocence and joy of the youth.

"Wasn't that bad, was it now?"

Chuuya hadn't realized the finger wasn't inside anymore. It really only lasted a few seconds.

But to him it lasted for an eternity. It lasted forever. The memory is now burned in his brain; the pain. The memories that have already been burned into his brain. The pain of knowing what he has to go home back to.

"Chuuya-kun?" Kouyou said, turning her head.

The nurses were cleaning everything up, one of them having the courtesy to pull the boys pants back up for him and wiping him up.

Chuuya was still in the same side-position. His eyes wide, shaking, and jaw clenched tight.

He didn't really know what to do; where to go now.

"Chuuya! Hey, hey chuuya!"

He blinked.

"Y-yeah." He said, turning over to his mother.

"It's time to go." She said, holding out her hand. "Common."

"Yeah…" he took her hand. "…yeah… okay."

They exited the building.

Later, Kouyou had gotten an email. According to Chuuya's GI doctor, his rectum is stretched out. Due to rectums being stretched out, it can be caused by, or is caused by large stools to harden and sit there and the diaherrea will go around the stool and the stool will sit there and slowly get larger and larger. If not taken care of, the recipient will have to get surgery to get the stool removed. Most of the time treatment is done with laxative pills and a 6-month clean-out.

Kouyou slammed her laptop shut.

"Fuck!"

She screamed.

"What's wrong?"

Kouyou had her hands in her hair as she rested her elbows on the laptop. She was sitting on the couch— hadn't even brushed her hair, she was a mess.

She looked over.

"Nothing is wrong, Paul."

Paul frowned.

"I doubt it, ma." He said, walking over to the couch opposite of his mom and sat on it. "Tell me, really. What's wrong."

Kouyou sighed.

"I just don't think I'm doing this parenting thing right."

Paul gave her a pitiful smile. "Don't say that." He got up, and walked over. He sat next to his mom. "You're an amazing mother. I couldn't imagine my life—ever, without you."

Kouyou looked up, frowning. "You really mean that?"

"I mean it more than anything else in the world."

Kouyou leaned in, and Paul did too. They hugged, and Kouyou softly patted her sons back.

"You know— I love you, kid."

"I love you too, mom."

Kouyou laughed, and then tears finally escaped her eyes.

"Y'know, I don't think there could be absolutely anything in this world that could make me love you any less. You know that, Paul?"

"I doubt it, mom."

"Why do you say that?"

"I'm a bad kid."

"You are." Kouyou hugged her son tighter. "But you're my bad kid."

She suddenly had a strange thought, and laughed at it.

"What's funny?"

"I just thought; no matter how many people you killed, ate, hated, or even worse Paul. I don't think anything in this world could ever stop me from loving you. If you end up a serial killer worse than Ted Bundy, I would be that one parent that everybody hated because they would be 'wasting their time' visiting their beloved baby in jail."

"Wow, ma." Paul sorta laughed. "That's kinda fucked up."

"It is." She said. "But, people really don't understand how valuable a baby is to a parent until they've had one themself."

Paul sat there in her arms, and he understood what she'd meant.

Chuuya's Monday went by kinda slow.

He couldn't stop thinking about that drawing; the design that Dazai had shown the class.

Had he drawn that?

Was he an artist?

Why did it matter?

Why did Chuuya care?

So many questions floating around his head, when he really should be focusing on school.

Him and the Sheep decided to hang after school today; at their hangout.

And… well, it's not like he should be surprised.

"He was so hot!"

"Man… why can't he be in our class?!"

"He was so funny!"

Even Yuan, his ex, said— "He was… he was pretty sweet to me…" while twirling her hair—or whatever.

"That moron destroyed our machine!"

Chuuya had yelled in the midst of everyone's gossiping. The group went silent and Chuuya sort of regretted it the moment he said it.

"I thought he did a pretty good job, actually…" Shirase popped up, biting his gum and avoiding eye contact.

If Chuuya were in a cartoon, steam would be coming out of his ears because of how angry he was.

"Are you kidding me?! The dudes lanky, skinny, ugly, and pale as ever. His fingernails are all bitten off, he smells of fish, he has an awful personality, and his hair looks as if he hasn't washed it in days when his dad is apparently the owner of a multi million dollar company!"

Chuuya ranted off, listing off the many bad factors of that brunette freak.

"Okay… but he has nice features…"

"He looks like a beady eyed-mackerel!"

Chuuya screamed, pissed off now. Everybody sort of stared at him with wide-eyes, as if he were too angry.

"I'm…"

Chuuya sighed.

"Shit… I'm sorry, guys…" He rested his forehead on his palm, closing his eyes. "I'm just in a bad mood, I think I'm gonna head home. I… I gotta take a shower or something."

Chuuya said his goodbyes, left for the day, and headed home. Pulling into the driveway on his skateboard, Chuuya smelt a stench of bacon, barbecue, and meat. Bear, liquor, and alcohol too.

Ah.

He rode along the path up to his front door, and in the garage he saw Paul, Rimbaud, and a few other older fellas drinking and messing around. Playing beer pong, different games and such.

What's going on? He thought, entering the house.

He threw his backpack next to the couch, and headed to the garage to put away his skateboard.

"Wahahahah!"

"Oh, I got you there!"

"Hahahah!"

"She was a whore, anyways!"

"Aren't you more into those twins?"

"Yeah, I might try them. See if I get anywhere… oh, Chuuya!"

Paul slurred, seeing his little brother enter the garage.

"Hi." The ginger said, unimpressed. He set his skateboard on the back rack, then turned to all the drunk older men in the garage. "The fuck are all you doing here?"

"Well!" Rimbaud started, fixing the earmuffs on his head. From here, Chuuya could see the IV drug marks on his inner elbow. "Your brother here just got dumped, big time!" He said while laughed, along with Paul.

Chuuya's eyes went a little wide.

"Wait… You mean you and…"

"Yup!" Paul poured more liquor into his cup, then downed it. "She broke up with me, said I was too pushy or whatever lie she had come up with. She just probably got bored of me, hoe that she is."

"Oh…" Chuuya said, slowly inching back to the door. "Sorry, man, uh—" He opened the door, slipping back into the house. "I'll uhm… I'm gonna be in the shower, if you need anything. Sorry—again."

The men continued laughing as if what he said was funny or something, Chuuya didn't find it funny.

Chuuya hurried back in the house, quickly grabbing baggy cloths, undergarments, and a towel.

He headed to the shower.

In the shower, he turned the hot water on; letting it get as hot as he can take it. He undressed, throwing his clothes aside as he examined himself in the mirror.

He usually does this, before showering. Leaning forward, he looked at his eyes. Then his nose, his face. His freckles, his hair.

He didn't know why he did it, but sometimes he sort of wished he could turn himself into clay. Clay that he could form with his fingers and fix all of his imperfections. Make himself look like the perfect man he could ever be. Nobody could ever hurt him, and nobody would ever feel like he was gonna hurt them.

The perfect man… he murmured through his mind… He reached down, and caressed his collar bones.

He loves collar bones. He wished he could see all of them, but he can only see the top halves. The girls at school have collar bones where you see full bones and even bones in the middle of their chest. He wanted that, but it must be a sign of weakness or something.

The water was hot enough now that it turned his pale skin pink, but not red— so it was good enough.

Every-time he showers he thinks— he thinks a lot. He gets almost captivated— hypnotized by his own thoughts.

But he is also naked. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. He thinks like a naked person would, with no filter. He had one question he has been fighting his entire life. One thing he hasn't confirmed, one thing that has caused everything bad in his whole existence.

Did me and my brother used to have sex together?

There, he said it. And he never liked questioning it. Saying it. Touching the topic. Feeling it, seeing it. He didn't know whether those fragments in his mind where real or not. Paul wasn't a good kid, but he would never have sex with Chuuya?

Like what the actual fuck?

And Chuuya honestly couldn't wrap his mind around the matter. He remembered. The mattress. The sheets, the blood, the wetness, the filth, the cries of help, the shaking, the dirtiness, the horror of it all.

It made him want to die.It was the only thing, not even as bad as his dad leaving, holding him back in life.

He finished his shower, and his arms had red scratches down the sides from him catching an picking; a nervous habit.

He started to dry himself off until—

Knock! knock!

"One minute!" He yelled.

Knock! Knock!

The knocks seemed a bit harder this time.

"One minute!" He yelled, louder.

"Hey…?"

Chuuya heard Paul say from the other side of the door, and it caused confusion to mix in his brain.

"Hey, I'll be out in a minute I said!"

"Yeah, I heard you! I just… Can I get in there like— like right now?"

Chuuya furrowed his brows.

Weird.

"Why right now?! I'm about to put my clothes on! One second!" He was started to get annoyed, in all honesty.

"I just need my toothebrush!"

"Can't you get it when I'm done?!"

"I need it right now!" Chuuya sighed, super fucking annoyed as he wrapped his towel around his waist.

He unlocked the door, and opened it.

Paul walked in, and walked over to the other side of the room where the toothebrushes usually would be. Chuuya bent down, picking up his newer clothes for bed and heading to his room to change.

"Hey…"

Chuuya turned around.

"What?"

There wasn't a toothbrush in Paul's hand; but, there was an empty cardboard case of liquor bottles.

Holy shit. Chuuya thought. He drank all of that?

His eyes were also red, meaning he was stoned.

"I was wondering… hi—cup… y'know," His older brother leaned on the counter, and stared at his baby sibling.

It wasn't the normal look Chuuya had seen though for the last few years, no. No— it was the same look from Chuuya's nightmares. The animalistic, sadistic, dominating look that didn't ask questions and didn't look for answers.

"Since me and that bitch just broke up I have nobody to…" he then gestured to his dick. "And since me and you used to play together— hi—cup… y'know, all the time, I was wondering if you like to do it again…"

Chuuya stood there, and slowly, he felt all of his insides shrivel up. He may look like the toughest kid in school. Like he could beat anybody's ass, like nobody would ever mess with him, like he wouldn't be scared of anything.

But that's simply not true.

Because, right now— hes standing next to the exit of the bathroom, and he's frozen. He's frozen in place, and his body is shaking out of fear.

"Hey… it's alright if you don't wanna, I mean… we can do it another time if you want—"

"Get out!"

Chuuya's eyes were wide, animalistic— just as crazy now as his brother's.

"Hey, are you scared?—"

Chuuya pointed out the door strongly, his eyes wide as ever. He didn't care how crazy he looked. "Get out! Get out! Get the fuck out!"

"Woah, woah." Paul put up his hands, acting as if he were innocent. "Hey, I wasn't meaning any harm or anything, I was just—"

"GET OUTTTTT!" Chuuya screamed, and he wouldn't be surprised if the whole neighborhood heard him.

Paul blinked a few times, his pupils dialated from the drugs as he comprehended the words. He understood the message.

"Fuck, yeah—whatever, man." Paul walked out. "Shit." He cursed, walking down the stairs.

When he was out, Chuuya instantly slammed the door shut and locked it. Chuuya slept under the bridge that night, and he continued to do so for the next few days.