Everything or Nothing
CatacylsmicEvents
Chapter 2: A Little Life Lesson
The last month of summer break is slow, uneventful. Chuuya spends half of it stretched out on his bed, texting the boy he met, trying not to think about the other one.
And the other one spends it packing, but not for his own move. “What’s in Switzerland, exactly?”
His mother pauses, pushing her hat back on her head, considering it. “Well...a resort, Jean said it’s one of the best...” her hands pause, skating frenetically over the purses on her closet shelf. “Which Birkin should I take? The Evelyn is more practical, I suppose...”
Dazai isn’t sure that there’s any thirty-thousand-dollar handbag that you could call practical.
“That one, I guess.” He sits back on the bench at the foot of her bed, watching as she loads up yet another trunk. “How long will you he gone?”
“Six months? But if he actually proposes, I could be in London permanently. He has two boys of his own, you know,” she glances up at him eagerly, “Doesn’t that sound nice, having brothers?”
“I already have two,” Dazai reminds her gently.
“...” her eyes dim for a moment before she looks back down. “Anyway, I’m sorry I can't go with you next week, I know it's a big milestone."
Dazai shrugs, lukewarm on his upcoming move. "It's only forty-five minutes away, it doesn't matter."
"Still..." She frowns, leaning back on her heels, scarves in hand. "You've always helped me move."
Dazai still remembers the day his mother moved out of his father's estate.
He really doesn't like to look back on it very often. The fact that he chooses not to is the reason that they can still have afternoons like this. "I'll be fine," he pulls one leg up against his chest. "It won't last, anyway. I have every intention of dropping out after the first semester."
"And wasting all of that tuition money?" She glances over her shoulder, smiling at him impishly before she reaches over to pat his cheek. "Good boy."
Dazai rolls his eyes. "That's petty."
She shrugs, turning around to force the trunk lid shut. "Better waste it on education than some slut he met in an airport lounge. What's the name of the one he has now?"
Dazai shifts, slightly uncomfortable with the shift in the conversation. "Stella."
"Italian?"
"Canadian."
"How old is she?" She asks flatly, hauling the trunk up on its wheels, watching expectantly before he stands up, moving to help her roll it into the hallway.
"I don't think knowing that is going to make it—" her pointed glare is unrelenting, and he sighs. "...twenty three."
"...What a pig," she snarls, her face flushing for a moment as she shakes her head, her hands balling into fists. "That's almost your age—" Odasaku's age, actually, but Dazai knows better than to say his name around her.
"I thought your therapist told you fixating on him was a bad idea," he murmurs, the muscles in his back straining as he carries the trunk downstairs.
"He did...he did..." his mother sighs, her anger draining at the reminder. "I forget myself sometimes, he just...lives under my skin."
"...Has the therapy been helping?" Dazai asks softly setting the trunk down at the landing of the stairs, handing it off to the chauffeurs to carry out to the limousine waiting out front.
