Everything or Nothing
CatacylsmicEvents
Chapter 40: postcards for a grave
Notes:
this is it! I hope you enjoy!
you can find me on twitter at @catacylsmiceve1 !
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
And it’s funny, how you can end up exactly where you started, but somehow be a million miles away from it.
Or better yet, the difference that just one year of your life can make.
Because, one 20-hour plane flight and a lot of jet lag later, Dazai finds himself in a bar.
A university joint, just outside of the city center in Oslo—the kind with crowded voices, laughter, the smell of cheap beer, and some indie rock band he’s never heard of playing so loudly over the speakers, Dazai can feel the reverberations in his feet.
The sort of scene you expect to see in a movie, the same plot line spinning out over and over again.
Boy sees girl in a crowded room, the perfect song starts playing, they meet in the middle and—boom, magic.
But Dazai’s life has never been exactly like a movie.
He glances over from where he’s closing out their tab, and he sees a boy, standing near one of the pool tables, finishing off his beer. Small, lean—thick, copper waves of hair pulled up and away from his face in a messy bun. A dark green flannel, ripped, gray jeans—and soft leather boots.
And he’s smiling.
Not at some other guy, not this time—but right at him.
When Dazai first started looking at Chuuya—really looking at him—he started counting the freckles on his nose, seeing how high he could get before the redhead noticed he was staring. He gets higher every time now—and he is starting to think he might not ever reach the end of them.
Dazai sets his receipt down, crossing the room—watching the way Chuuya’s smile grows as he gets closer.
“Settled up?” The smaller teen practically has to shout to be heard over the music.
Dazai reaches out, carefully tucking one loose strand of hair behind his lover’s ear. “Yeah—” he raises the volume of his voice too, leaning closer so Chuuya can hear. “—do you wanna get out of here? It’s pretty crowded.”
Chuuya reaches out, catching his hand, twining their fingers together. “Sounds good.”
Which is how they end up stumbling out of the side door, ending up in the alley outside, the music echoing behind them until the door slides shut, sealing the drumbeats and the laughter within.
“Wanna head back to the hotel?” Chuuya starts, rubbing his arms with a small shiver. It’s still summer—but it’s also Norway.
Dazai doesn’t answer immediately, his head tilted up towards the sky, contemplative.
“...Osamu?”
And then, Chuuya finds himself thinking that he’s been in this position before.
In an alley outside a bar, suddenly backed up against the bricks—and he can faintly remember the way Dazai looked then, but it has nothing on the way he looks right now.
Wild hair, dark eyes, that slow, playful grin that makes Chuuya feel weak in the knees—
And with his hands on the wall on either side of Chuuya’s head, the teenager feels almost enveloped by him.
He expects Dazai to kiss him, to make some sort of embarrassing joke—anything, but—
But he doesn’t.
