Chuuya was perfect—the ideal girl. Long ginger hair, striking blue eyes, and a slim figure. It was so unfair.
She was also so good at school, at everything, really. Why did life have to be this unfair?
Dazai, on the other hand, was the complete opposite—at least from her own perspective.
Her straight brown hair barely reached the top of her chest. She was tall—too tall for most of the boys her age. Not that boys mattered. School was the only thing that should matter.
Her figure was slim, but not in a healthy way. Long arms, slender hands. Bandages covered her body.
But why did any of it matter? To whom?
Exactly. To no one.
In this world, you are your own character, your own focus—no one else’s. So why did she long for what other girls had?
Why did she wish for those features, that femininity?
“Dazai,” Chuuya called, trying to pull her out of her thoughts.
No use. Fuck it.
“Yes, my Chibi~?” Dazai finally responded, her voice laced with playful mockery.
“Cut the bullshit. What’s going on?”
“Hah? What do you mean?”
“You know damn well what I mean.”
Dazai smiled—then laughed, light and careless. “I really don’t. How about you go chat with your pretty little friends instead?”
“Tch.” Chuuya rolled her eyes. “They’re not even that pretty.”
“Selfish much.”
“That’s not what I meant, you bastard.” Chuuya crossed her arms. “I meant that compared to you, they’re ugly.”
Her face emptied of all emotion as she turned away, looking down.
“You don’t mean that,” she muttered.
Dazai stood still, her back to Chuuya, fingers gripping the strap of her bag. The weight of Chuuya’s words hung in the air, pressing down on her like an invisible force.
She should’ve just laughed it off. She should’ve thrown some smug remark back. That was the usual routine, right? Pretend nothing mattered, pretend words didn’t reach her.
But instead, she stood there, silent, unmoving.
Then, finally, she spoke.
“You don’t mean it.” Her voice was quiet, almost too calm. “Don’t try to lie to me.”
There was no teasing lilt, no playful mockery—just a cold, flat statement.
Before Chuuya could respond, Dazai turned on her heel, her usual lazy smile slipping back onto her face like a mask snapping into place.
She reached for her bag, slinging it over her shoulder in one swift motion.
“Dazai—”
Too late. Dazai was already walking away, moving faster than usual, as if she wanted to escape before the conversation could continue.
“Hel—” Chuuya started to call after her, taking a half-step forward.
But Dazai only glanced back briefly, her grin sharp and unreadable.
“See you later, Chibi~!” she sang, waving a careless hand before disappearing through the door.
And just like that, she was gone.
Chuuya stood frozen, staring at the door Dazai had just disappeared through.
The conversation replayed in her mind, the sharp contrast between Dazai’s cold words and the forced cheerfulness in her exit. It didn’t sit right with her. It never did.
“Tch. That damn bastard,” Chuuya muttered under her breath, running a hand through her hair.
Dazai was always like this—dodging, deflecting, slipping away before things could get too real. But this time, something about it felt different. The way she had walked out, the way she had moved so quickly, like she couldn’t stand to be there a second longer…
Like she was running.
Chuuya clicked her tongue in frustration and grabbed his own bag. No way in hell was she letting Dazai get away that easily.
—
Dazai stepped out into the evening air, the cool breeze hitting her face as she walked down the empty street. She hadn’t needed to leave that fast, but staying there any longer would have meant dealing with things she had no interest in facing.
Chuuya’s words still echoed in her head.
“Compared to you, they’re ugly.”
Dazai let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head.
“Idiot,” she muttered to herself.
It wasn’t true. Couldn’t be.
She wasn’t beautiful. She wasn’t anything worth looking at.
Dazai kept walking, hands in her pockets, shoulders tense despite the lazy sway in her steps. She needed to clear her head, to shove this whole conversation into the back of her mind where all the other inconvenient thoughts went.
But then—
“Oi! Dazai!”
She stopped.
Dazai didn’t turn around immediately. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, a smirk already forming on her lips. “Didn’t know you cared so much, Chibi.”
“Shut up.” Chuuya jogged up beside her, slightly out of breath. “You left too fast.”
Dazai raised an eyebrow, amused. “Didn’t realize I needed permission.”
Chuuya ignored the remark, eyes narrowing. “Why’d you leave like that?”
Dazai shrugged. “I had places to be.”
“Bullshit,” Chuuya shot back. “You always do this. Laugh it off, run away. It’s getting old, Dazai.”
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Dazai sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Aw, Chuuya, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were worried about me.”
Chuuya clenched her fists. “I am worried, dumbass!”
Dazai blinked.
For just a second, the teasing mask slipped.
But it was only a second.
She quickly recovered, shaking her head with a soft chuckle. “You really shouldn’t be.”
And before Chuuya could argue, Dazai turned on her heel, giving a little wave as she started walking again.
“Go home, Chibi. It’s getting late.”
Chuuya watched her go, frustration and concern tangled in his chest.
This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Dazai had barely taken two steps before she felt it—warm fingers wrapping around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.
She blinked, glancing down at the hand gripping her own. Chuuya’s hand. Firm, steady, unwavering.
Dazai let out a small, amused hum. “Oh? Chuuya, if you wanted to hold hands, you could’ve just asked—”
“Shut up.” Chuuya’s voice was sharp, but there was something else underneath it. Something softer.
Dazai finally looked up, meeting Chuuya’s gaze. Her blue eyes were intense, burning with frustration, determination—something Dazai couldn’t quite place.
“I don’t care how late it is,” Chuuya said, her grip tightening just slightly. “You are gonna sit down with me and talk to me.”
Dazai stared at him.
Not a joke. Not a playful demand. A real one.
She could feel the weight of it pressing against her, see the sheer stubbornness in Chuuya’s expression. She wasn’t letting this go. Not this time.
Dazai could laugh. Could roll her eyes and shake her off and walk away. Could do what she always did.
But…
She sighed dramatically, tilting her head. “Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya~,” she drawled. “You’re so pushy.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe if you weren’t such a damn coward, I wouldn’t have to be.”
Dazai’s eyes widened—just for a fraction of a second.
Then, something shifted.
Her smirk softened, just slightly. She turned her hand, fingers curling loosely around Chuuya’s in return.
“…Fine,” Dazai said, voice quieter now.
Chuuya blinked, looking a little surprised that she had actually agreed. But She didn’t let go.
“Good,” she muttered. “Now sit your ass down.”
Dazai huffed a small laugh, shaking her head, but for once—she listened.
The two of them sat down on a nearby bench, the city’s distant hum filling the silence between them. Chuuya kept her hand wrapped around Dazai’s wrist, as if afraid she’d disappear the moment she let go.
Dazai leaned back, gazing up at the darkening sky with a sigh. “Alright, Chuuya, we’re sitting. Now what?”
Chuuya exhaled sharply, frustrated. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you.”
Dazai let out a small, amused hum, tilting her head toward her. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Chuuya’s grip tightened slightly. “No? It isn’t.”
Dazai finally turned to face her, her usual smirk in place but lacking its usual playfulness. There was something tired about it, something worn.
“You really need to hear the fucking words out of my mouth?” she murmured.
Chuuya swallowed, her heartbeat picking up.
Yes. She did.
But asking for it—forcing Dazai to say it out loud—felt like stepping on something fragile, something that might shatter if she pushed too hard.
Still, she didn’t back down.
“Yeah,” Chuuya said, voice steady. “I do.”
Dazai stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
Then, she exhaled a soft laugh, shaking her head. “God, you’re a pain in the ass, Chuuya.”
Chuuya narrowed her eyes. “And?”
Dazai looked away, her gaze dropping to the ground, fingers twitching in Chuuya’s hold.
“I mean, fuck, Chuuya—you are so dumb,” Dazai said, but there was no anger in her voice. It wasn’t bitterness, either. It was something else. Something closer to jealousy.
“You’re good at everything. You have so many friends. You’re beautiful. You have long, perfect hair, blue eyes, and you’re everyone’s type—I mean, everywhere I go at school, I hear your name. I hear people saying, ‘She’s so pretty.’”
She let out a short, humorless laugh, then paused.
“Guess what they say about me?”
Chuuya didn’t answer. She didn’t think she was supposed to.
Dazai let the silence stretch before speaking again, her voice quieter now.
“They call me a freak.”
She finally looked up, her blue eyes empty of their usual teasing glint. “And honestly? I get it. I mean, look at me. I am a freak. I’m ugly. My hair’s a mess, my eyes are a boring brown, I’m underweight, and there’s nothing—nothing—perfect about me.”
Her fingers curled into fists in her lap.
“I mean, fuck, I’m sorry I wear bandages. I’m sorry I cover myself up, but something has to hide at least one of my insecurities.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she forced out a dry laugh. “But I can’t cover everything, can I?”
Chuuya stared at her, heart sinking.
She had seen Dazai annoyed, smug, dramatic, irritating. But like this? Stripped raw, vulnerable, full of something so self-destructive it made Chuuya’s chest ache? No.
Never like this.
Slowly, carefully, Chuuya reached forward and grabbed Dazai’s hand again, squeezing it tighter than before.
“Dazai,” she started, voice steadier than she felt.
Dazai sighed, shaking her head. “Don’t.”
“I’m gonna.”
Dazai let out a soft chuckle. “Of course you are.”
Chuuya inhaled deeply, choosing her words carefully. “You’re an idiot.”
Dazai blinked, caught off guard. “…Hah?”
“You sit here talking about how I’m dumb, but you don’t even realize your own worth.” Chuuya held her gaze, refusing to let her look away. “You think I give a shit about what people at school say? About what some assholes whisper behind your back?”
Dazai opened her mouth, but Chuuya squeezed her hand tighter.
“You think I’d sit here, chasing after you, holding your damn hand, if I thought you were ugly?”
Dazai froze.
For the first time all night, she had nothing to say.
Dazai stared at Chuuya, lips slightly parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
Then, she let out a quiet, breathy laugh. “No, but… you’re my friend.”
Chuuya frowned. “And?”
Dazai leaned back slightly, forcing a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Friends say nice things to each other. It doesn’t mean they’re true.”
Chuuya clenched her jaw. She could hear it—the way Dazai was trying to dismiss this, trying to make it seem like her words didn’t matter.
“Dazai,” Chuuya said, voice firm. “Do you really think I’d lie to you?”
Dazai hesitated.
Chuuya took that as her chance to press forward. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean. If I say you’re beautiful, it’s because you fucking are.”
Dazai exhaled through her nose, looking down at their joined hands. “You don’t get it, Chuuya.”
“Then make me get it.”
Dazai was silent for a long moment, her fingers twitching slightly under Chuuya’s grip. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she finally spoke.
“I don’t know how to see myself the way you do.”
Chuuya’s chest ached at the honesty in those words.
She squeezed Dazai’s hand again, gentler this time. “Then I’ll just have to make sure you do.”
Dazai barely had a second to process Chuuya’s words before she felt it—Chuuya’s hand tugging her forward, closing the space between them.
The warmth of Chuuya’s palm against her own, the steadiness of her grip—it all made Dazai feel suddenly, dangerously real.
Chuuya’s voice was low, almost like a confession. “I always wanted to kiss your beautiful lips.”
Dazai’s breath hitched.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she couldn’t hide behind a smirk, a joke, or a deflection. She was just there—held in place by Chuuya’s touch, her words sinking deep into her skin.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, too loud, too fast.
She licked her lips, gaze flickering between Chuuya’s eyes and her mouth. “Chuuya,” she said, barely a whisper.
Chuuya didn’t move away. Didn’t waver.
Instead, she lifted her free hand, tucking a strand of Dazai’s messy brown hair behind her ear. Her fingertips brushed against her cheek, light and careful.
“Say something,” Chuuya murmured.
Dazai swallowed, her usual mask slipping further and further away.
“…I didn’t think you saw me like that,” she admitted, voice quieter than ever.
Chuuya let out a short breath, shaking her head. “You really are an idiot.”
And then—slowly, deliberately—Chuuya leaned in, her lips hovering just above Dazai’s.
A silent question.
A chance to pull away.
But Dazai didn’t.
Instead, she closed the last bit of space between them, her lips meeting Chuuya’s in a soft, hesitant kiss.
Dazai barely had time to process what was happening before she felt it—Chuuya’s lips pressing against hers, warm and just a little chapped.
Her mind blanked. Completely.
For once, there was no teasing remark, no smug deflection, no instinct to run away. Just the feeling of Chuuya’s hands gripping onto her—one still tangled with her own, the other resting awkwardly against her cheek, like she wasn’t sure if she should be touching her at all.
It was so stupid. So messy. So teenager.
And yet, Dazai’s fingers twitched, heart hammering in a way she didn’t expect.
Chuuya pulled back after a second, her face already burning, eyes wide like she couldn’t believe she had actually done that.
“…Shit,” Chuuya muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
Dazai blinked, still trying to process the fact that Chuuya Nakahara—the most stubborn, hot-headed person she knew—had just kissed her.
A slow, amused smile tugged at her lips.
“Wow,” Dazai breathed, tilting her head. “You really wanted to do that, huh?”
Chuuya groaned, immediately shoving her shoulder. “Oh, shut the hell up.”
Dazai laughed, but it wasn’t the usual loud, dramatic kind. It was softer. Real.
Chuuya was actually red in the face, grumbling curses under her breath as she crossed her arms, refusing to look at her.
But Dazai didn’t let go of her hand.
Instead, she squeezed it lightly, tilting her head with a smirk that was far too smug for someone who had just been completely caught off guard.
“So,” she hummed, leaning in slightly. “Are we gonna pretend that didn’t just happen, or are you gonna kiss me again?”
Chuuya swore she was going to strangle her.
Chuuya rolled her eyes, attempting to mask her embarrassment with a playful facade. “Yes, we’re going to ignore it,” she said, her tone dripping with feigned nonchalance. “And I’m going to kiss you so much again.”
Dazai’s eyebrows shot up, surprised by the sudden confidence in Chuuya’s voice.
“Pretty girls get kissed, don’t they?”