Chuuya spent every day after graduation counting down the days to orientation on a sticky note pad in his room, watching the scribbled numbers go down into the single digits. Eighty-seven days until he gets to see his

new school

. Forty-nine days before he gets to hop on a plane to the other side of the

country

. Twenty-six days, and then his life as a fully-fledged little

adult

gets to start. His Dad, on the other hand? Not quite as

thrilled

.

"Tokyo..." Arthur Rimbaud frowns, his arms crossed over his chest as he glances around campus. "It's a

big

place."

Chuuya shrugs, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, "I mean--sure," he glances up at his father over his shoulder, pushing up his sunglasses, "but so was Paris."

"We lived there

together

.” Rimbaud mutters, unable to shirk his growing sense that his son isn't taking this quite as

seriously

as he could be.

"And orientation is just

one night,”

Chuuya reminds his father, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "I don't actually start school for another

month

.” Small comforts.

"...And you'll be responsible?" Chuuya nods, not verbalizing it.

Obviously, Rimbaud doesn't trust it. But what choice does he have?

Already on campus, there's a small, somewhat

banal

argument. "I don't need a babysitter," Dazai

whines

, glaring over at his older brother. Well. Half-brother.

Odasaku shrugs, "Gotta earn my keep somehow."

Dazai huffs, picking a piece of lint off of the edge of his cardigan, a picture of irritated boredom. "It's only forty-five minutes away from home."

Odasaku snorts, slinging an arm around his baby brother's shoulders, "I know that, I rode with you." He nudges him along the pathway towards the student union, where they're passing out assignments. "Look, I know you're pissed that Dad..." Odasaku trails off, trying to find a

delicate

way to phrase it. "...

pushed

for college - "

Pushed. Strong armed. Basically blackmailed.

"But you might

like

it here." Oda offers. "And if you don't, I dunno..." He ruffles Dazai's hair, snorting when his brother reaches up to swat his hands away and adjust it, his eyes flickering over to a pair of girls giggling from nearby. "You can always join me in the 'family disappointment' club?"

Dazai

loves

the family disappointment club. There aren't any expectations there. You get a tiny apartment in the city, you get to work some crummy job--and you're

banished

from most family gatherings. Which, in Dazai's mind, is kind of

ideal

. "Can I drop out now?"

Oda snorts, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead." Dazai is sulking, perfectly aware that Oda isn't offering a genuine all clear. "Really, there

is

an upside," Oda murmurs, looking up at the looming columns as they step inside. "You don't live with Dad anymore." That's

true

.

“And,”

Oda adds, nudging Dazai towards the sign in table, “you got to keep the credit cards.”

And

that

, if you ask Dazai, is exactly why Oda is such a good big brother. He’s always helping him look on the bright side.

For Chuuya, orientation itself is a

breeze

.

He’s always done well with social events. It doesn’t take him long to befriend two of the kids in his peer group - Shirase and Yuan - and they spend most of the practice lectures giggling on the back row, exchanging social media information, texting sarcastic commentary during the Campus safety lecture. And by the end of the day, Shirase is

bemoaning

their fates.

“I wish I’d known you before I signed up for random roommate assignment!” He groans. “It would have been

perfect

.”

“I

know

,” Chuuya groans, rubbing his temples. “What if I got stuck with some sort of creep?”

“Well,” Yuan sighs, fiddling with her hair as they walk towards one of the bars near campus, “I already

know

my roommate and she

sucks

.”

“I thought you said she was your cousin?”

“Yep. And she fucking

sucks

.” Yuan shakes her head. “I’d take a random assignment any day.”

“Right...” Chuuya trails off, not wanting to understand

that

family dynamic. “And why are we here again?”

“Well,” Shirase blinks owlishly. “It’s probably my only chance to get wasted this summer. I’m helping my grandpa in his shop next month.”

Right. Wasted. Only chance for the summer. Which is what

normal

teenagers do. They get wasted when they have the chance.

Chuuya bites back the urge to slap his hands against his cheeks.

Don't be such a little baby, it's totally normal.

"Okay,” his smile is all bravado, "First round is on me."

Dazai would say his Orientation experience was pretty successful. He didn't exactly make

friends

, but the instant the well-off kids noticed the watch on his wrist, he was ingratiated into a little 'clique' of kids in

Ralph Lauren

and

Saint Laurent.

And within that group of kids, blessed be, was Sasaki Nobuko. Long, raven hair, mysterious green eyes, perfect skin...

Almost

the sort of girl Dazai might want to call back in the morning, even if he hasn't found someone

quite

like that before. The bar is kind of dull though. Sasaki holds her beer close to her chest, her cardigan hanging loosely off of her slim frame as she glances around at the crowded faces in the room.

"I've never been to a place like this before," she admits, examining Dazai from the corner of her eye. "Have you?"

Dazai looks

bored

, leaning against the bar in a far more relaxed pose, loosely holding his own bottle by the neck, twirling it around between his fingertips. "A few times," he admits. "Yokohama has plenty of them."

"I forgot, you

did

say that you grew up nearby..." She mutters, pushing her hair behind her ear. There's something sly about her, Dazai decides. She's one of those girls who acts meek and shy, but she's really forming a plan in her head. Maybe she thinks acting like this is going to make him like her

more

. It's manipulative.

Dazai doesn't necessarily care about that. It's not any different from how people in his life usually are. Money makes a person strategic. You have a lot, and therefore you don't want to

lose

a lot. You'd rather stay in this boring, eternal point of stasis. It makes you observant. Coy.

Dazai is fine with letting her think the soft, virginal act is making him open up. If it gets him a night with her, maybe two or three, he's happy to act like the sulking, emotionally distant boy that her father would disapprove of. If he'd

known

that was what she wanted, he might've even put on a leather jacket and tried to play the part. Could've even put his piercings in, made her think about how her mother would've clutched her pearls. He takes another swig of his beer. "Do you wanna dance?"

She does a marvelous job of looking surprised. "Oh, well, I - ”

"Sasaki-chan!" One of her friends, a blonde girl with pigtails, runs over to grab her arm. "We're going to the bathroom."

She blinks fervently, looking back and forth between her friend, and Dazai, "But I - ?"

"

Now,"

her friend insists, tugging her off.

Dazai watches them go, swearing under his breath.

There goes his nightly distraction. Could he find someone else? Probably. But it's going to take a

few

more drinks before he gets there.

Chuuya is staring down the barrel of a shot of tequila. He's never had a drink before.

Like, he's sipped at his Dad's wine, sure. Hey, when his sister took him to Disney world for his high school graduation, they shared some limoncello in Epcot. But straight up

tequila

? No. You just knock it back though, right? Like in the movies?

"You good, man?" Shirase is on his third shot already, clearly a little more experienced than he is - and Yuan already has mardi gras beads, somehow - even though they're in

Japan

and it's

July

.

"Oh, uh...yeah," Chuuya blinks. "I've just never had it before."

"What," Shirase blinks, "tequila?"

"...Yes?"

"Oh," the ivory haired boy snorts, good natured, "here." He reaches over, grabbing one of the saltshakers off of the bar top, shaking some out on the back of his hand. "Lick it first."

Chuuya glances from Shirase's eyes, to his hand, his face heating up a little. "You want me to

lick your hand?”

"Well," Shirase blinks, blushing a little himself. "Probably should've used yours, but - I just washed mine, so it's not gross or anything - it helps with the burn." He offers it up. "You've probably only had beer before, right?"

"...Yeah." Chuuya agrees, feeling

so

lame, he doesn't want to

admit it.

He leans in, feeling

so

fucking awkward as his tongue swipes out to lick at the salt there, wrinkling his nose at the taste. But his heart

is

beating kinda fast.

"You've gotta hurry, or it'll wear off.”

"Oh.

Right”

Chuuya straightens up quickly, staring at the shot glass in his hand, quickly counting back from three in his head before knocking it back. At first, it really isn't bad.

And then, his entire face is on

fire

.

“Jesus - !”

Dazai kinda likes this song. It's that carefree, acoustic kind of vibe you expect to see in a romantic comedy. He's pretty sure it actually

has

been in a few movies before. Elton John, right? He's swaying to it, even as the room itself sways, barely paying attention to Ango, some dead eyed kid who is just counting down the days until he gets to be an accountant. The ladies love him, obviously. And standing next to someone so utterly banal, that had been

strategic

. Dazai figured it would just drag any female attention from Ango, straight to him. Turns out it was more of a repellant than anything else. So now he's

drunk

, Sasaki is

nowhere

to be found, and tonight doesn't seem like it could get any -

Dazai's eyes widen just a little.

"And then I told her she was being completely ridiculous, that I'd already filed a form TI96B with the bursar--Dazai, are you listening?"

"Uh..."

Like his night could get any...

Dazai's eyes narrow slightly. Across the room, there's this...this

person

.

Wearing an old, oversized flannel, unbuttoned to reveal a dark tank top underneath, and ripped jeans. Red hair -

such nice hair

- pulled up into a messy ponytail, pieces falling down and framing his face. There's a spray of freckles across his nose, highlighted when he smiles, throwing his head back and

laughing

like someone just said the funniest thing in the world.

Something about it makes Dazai feel like sulking. Like. What's so funny? He brings his drink up to his lips again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the guy standing next to him, leaning back against a pool table. Dazai is probably funnier.

Everyone

says so. "Dazai?" Fingers snap in front of his face, but he doesn't look away. Suddenly, the stranger turns to look at him.

He has blue eyes.

Dazai's feel a little dry under the harsh lighting, the music swelling slightly in the background. It's a good moment. Like the sort of moment where you just cross the room and kiss a stranger.

Well.

Obviously

he doesn't. Because he isn't a creep. But he does set his drink down a little quickly, batting Ango's hand out of his face as he crosses the room.

Chuuya is being cool. He's totally cool. Not drunk. Not even tipsy. Just

cool

. He had a glass of water somewhere between the shots. He thinks. He definitely is

not

concerned or even a little bit intimidated by the fact that the best-looking guy in the bar is walking straight towards him.

Chuuya came out like... Three months ago.

So. Training wheels are still on, so to speak.

And there's this weird little dance you have to do in your head, when you aren't

used

to trying to see if guys are looking at you that way. Chuuya tries looking away, only to let his eyes flicker back, to see if it was in his head, and-- He's standing

right there.

"Hi."

Chuuya’s mouth is suddenly dry, like someone stuffed it full of cotton balls. Normally, he really isn’t

like

this, it’s just... Even in a slightly oversized hoodie and faded jeans, the boy in front of him...the way he’s smirking down at him curiously...

God

, he’s

hot

.

“Hi.” Chuuya finally answers lamely, tongue darting out to lick his lips, suddenly dry. The boy asks something, but the music is so loud that, for a moment, it’s hard to hear. “What?” Chuuya frowns, leaning his head back.

“I

said

- ” the brunette leans down, and their faces are

close

, so close that Chuuya notices a tiny little scar under the right corner of his mouth, “What’s your name?”

Oh. Yeah. Names. He has one of those.

“Chuuya.” He responds, his voice a little smaller than he would like. “What about you?” The other boy doesn’t lean back.

“It’s Dazai.” He glances over at the boy Chuuya was talking to before, who has quickly found himself in conversation with someone else. “It’s kinda loud in here. Wanna step outside for a minute?”

Chuuya doesn’t really

get

what Dazai is going for, but he nods. He’s a little overheated, and the room is kind of unsteady, the crowd pulsing behind his lids when he closes his eyes. “Yeah,” his voice crackles a little and he swallows hard, clearing his throat, “I mean - I guess I could...”

“...” Dazai smiles lopsidedly, taking him by the elbow, “Good.”

The air rushes at Chuuya’s face when they step out into the alley, cooling the sweat on the back of his neck, and he starts to feel a

little

better. Still woozy and

definitely

not sober, but... Not drunk. He stumbles over his own boots, and Dazai catches him by the arm.

Dazai is actually, by all standards, even

more

drunk than Chuuya is. He’s just been sneaking into the liquor cabinet for years, so... Learning how to walk while

hammered

is actually a learned skill.

“You from the city?”

“Huh? Uh - no. I - I’m moving here next month.” Chuuya explains, pushing loose pieces of hair behind his ears, “I’m starting at Todai this semester. What about you?”

Dazai’s smile returns, but it doesn’t reach his eyes at all. “That so? Not just a pretty face, huh?”

Chuuya’s heart skips a beat. He really isn’t

usually

like this. Really, normally he’s the rolling his eyes, scoffing, sneering ‘In your dreams’ type of guy. But his head feels

fuzzy

and Dazai’s eyes look kind of like liquid gold under the streetlamps, and Chuuya’s cheeks are

warm

. “Wh - what about you?” He slurs. “You from here?”

Dazai shrugs, stepping closer to Chuuya as a couple of more kids stumble out of the bar, their laughter piercing the air as they hurry off towards the street, calling a taxi. “Nearby, sure.” Dazai’s palm presses against the bricks next to Chuuya’s head.

He

is

straight. He kind of remembers it, faintly in the back of his head. Sasaki. The pretty girl from before. Who might be back in there, wondering where he went. But the redhead staring back at him seems like a

better

distraction, and Dazai doesn’t want to dedicate the emotional labor to figuring out why.

“You have a boyfriend?”

The question startles Chuuya a little bit, and he arches and eyebrow, reaching up to rub at one of his cheeks irritably. “Would I have come out here with you if I did?”

Dazai shrugs, “You’d be surprised.”

“Well,” Chuuya blinks. “I don’t. Why?” Dazai makes this weird little face, somewhere between relief and resentment, though not necessarily directed at

him

.

“Covering my bases.” Before Chuuya can ask anything else, Dazai’s mouth is on his. And then, Chuuya isn’t really thinking about anything at

all

.

Chuuya isn’t a particularly easy going person. He’s high strung, never completely comfortable with himself. Always the new kid, never in one place for too long. Not the sort of person to kiss a boy he met two minutes ago, drunk, in the alley behind a bar.

It sort of

is

like a movie moment, with both of them holding onto each other breathlessly. The first thing he tastes on Dazai’s mouth is whiskey, which doesn’t exactly blend well with the aftertaste of Chuuya’s own drink, but he doesn’t care.

His first thought is that Dazai’s kisses are

softer

than he would’ve expected. Not that Chuuya is an

expert

on kissing guys, but...the devil may care, effortless attitude kind of made it seem like he was the sort of guy to ram you up against the wall, uncoordinated from the alcohol, but he doesn’t

yank

Chuuya into the kiss, he

eases

him down, until his lips are parting, his eyes are rolling back into his head, and his hands are bunching in the back of Dazai’s sweatshirt.

He inhales sharply through his nose when their tongues brush against each other, making a small noise of surprise in the back of his throat. Dazai’s hand is on the side of his neck, thumb stroking over his throbbing pulse, while the other slips under his flannel, sliding against his tank top, pressing against his side.

One of Chuuya’s hands finds its way into Dazai’s hair, tangling there, pulling him closer. It’s

good

.

He lives nearby, right? That’s what he said?

Chuuya’s thoughts are muddled as one of Dazai’s knees slips between his thighs.

I could ask...if he has a phone?

Chuuya internally winces.

No,

dumbass

, you ask for his

phone number

, this is why you don’t have a -

Now

there’s teeth tugging at his bottom lip, and Chuuya

moans

.

And then it’s all gone.

Chuuya opens his eyes sluggishly, breathing hard, half slumped against the bricks. Dazai isn’t looking at him. Actually, he’s suddenly standing two feet away, like they were just making

small talk

or something, not kissing each other breathless after barely saying

two words

to one another.

“Dazai! We were looking for you.”

Chuuya’s stomach

sinks

.

“Oh,” Dazai smiles a little too easily, turning away from him, “sorry, I was just asking for a light.”

Oh

.

He walks off to rejoin his friends, and Chuuya is caught somewhere between still feeling a little light and tingly, and also...

Like utter

shit.

What

the fuck?

His hand covers his mouth, his throat tightening as the door slams shut.

You have a boyfriend?

Why even

ask

if he was some kind of

asshole

like that?

“Chuuya?” He glances up at the sound of a familiar voice, blinking fast and wiping his face as he tries to get rid of any sign of distress.

“Um - " his voice is a little shaky before he clears his throat, “Yeah?”

Shirase walks over, dodging the puddles. “You okay? We were looking for you.”

“Yeah,” Chuuya smiles tightly. “I was...uh...smoke break.”

The other boy blinks, “You smoke?”

Nope

.

“...Come on,” Shirase reaches out, taking his hand. “We’re gonna close out - wanna go get something to eat? You look kinda...”

“I’m

fine

,” Chuuya frowns, wobbling on his feet as his friend pulls him along. “I - " he hiccups, still fighting back a crushing sense of

worthlessness

.“ - could keep going - "

Shirase glances back at him with a lopsided smile, reaching over to ruffle his hair, “Yeah, but I’m starving. You want pancakes? I know a diner nearby that stays open late.”

“...I like pancakes,” Chuuya admits, a little sulky.

“My treat?”

“Okay...”

Shirase regretted his offer a

little

bit when he learned that Chuuya could put away three entire stacks of pancakes without batting an eye, but... Worth it. The redhead glances up between bites when he sees his friend giving him a strange look, wiping his mouth. “What?”

“...” Shirase shakes his head, laughing under his breath as he takes another bite of his eggs. “I’ll ask you when you’ve sobered up a little more, okay?”

“You could ask me now,” Chuuya takes a swig of his coffee, “and then ask me again later?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I’m curious,” Chuuya shrugs, mostly better now, just tipsy and a

little

hung over already. “And I don’t know if I’ll be up to it later.”

“Solid logic,” Shirase snorts. “But fine.” Next, is possibly the biggest plot twist of Chuuya’s night. “Wanna see a movie together sometime?”