Would You Defy Gravity for Me? (TBD hiatus)

Chapter 3 - Its Not Growling If I'm Yelling at you in a Hushed Voice

- author's Note: sorry this chapter's so short! i had pretty bad writers block while writing it, so it took me a while to figure out where i wanted to go with the plot. the next one will hopefully be longer, though!! -

1 month after Atsushi Nakajima wins gold at the World Figure Skating Championships
    Dazai leaned his elbow on the ledge of the car window, head supported by his palm. Night had draped over Yokohama a few hours ago, empty streets illuminated by flickering street lamps as the car drove past. He moved his gaze from the tinted glass of the window, checking the screen of his phone for what must've been the millionth time that night. Notifications were pouring onto his lockscreen, as they had been for a few hours, since he made the "big" announcement at the press conference, but they meant nothing to him. He was only looking for one name on the screen, but it had yet to pop up. Softly sighing in disappointment, he let the screen fill with darkness, turning back to the window.
    He was glad he was alone in the car, as there was no way he'd ever show this side of himself to anyone else. The side that was still hung up on someone from his past, the one person he'd tried (and failed) to let go of for years.
    He knew he should stop the train of thought, because he knew where it led, but he couldn't help himself from trying to imagine his reaction. He quietly snorted to himself as he pictured the redhead storming into Mori's office, with that familiar enraged expression that Dazai couldn't forget if he tried. He wondered if it had been enough to push Chuuya over the edge and start smashing things. He knew he'd go for the stupid ice skate glass ornament Mori kept on his desk first, probably.
    The ghost of a smile flickered across his lips in the darkness as he thought of his ex-partner. He couldn't help but wonder if Chuuya had changed at all. He was certain the redhead's height had increased very much in the years they'd been apart, though.

6 years before Atsushi Nakajima wins gold at the World Figure Skating Championships
    The next morning, Chuuya found himself on the ground floor of the Port Mafia dorm building, waiting for a certain brunet to come down to meet him. He'd been waiting for almost half an hour, and Dazai had gone radio silent, not answering a single one of his calls or texts. Chuuya's impatience festered, until eventually, he snapped. He got to his feet with a snarl, walking over to the wall next to the elevator, where there were rows of mailboxes with the apartment's tenant's names printed on them in fine text. He scanned the rows, eventually finding Dazai's name, next to his apartment number. A5159. Ah, jackpot. He ducked into the empty elevator, punching in the number for the fifth floor.
    Once the elevator drifted to a stop and the metal doors began to part, he was out, storming down the hall. He found Dazai's door easily. His anger still rampant, he slammed his fist on the door with a little more force than necessary. "You better let me in, jackass, I know you're in there!"
    A few seconds passed. Chuuya was almost ready to start banging on the wood again when finally, Dazai poked his head through the doorway. His hair was a mop of dark curls on his head, a little more unruly than usual, and from what Chuuya could see, he seemed to be wearing pajamas, his normal bandages still peeking from the long sleeves of his shirt (He even slept in those?). He looked like he'd just woken up.
    "Why are you here?"
    Chuuya growled. "We were supposed to meet up today, idiot! Half an hour ago!"
    "Oh. Is it already one?" The tired brunet said simply, not a drip of remorse in his voice.
    "Yes! One-thirty, now, in fact."
    "I guess I lost track of time."
    "I called you three times!"
    "Phone was dead."
    Chuuya knew that was a lie; if his phone had been dead, it would've gone to voicemail immediately, which it didn't. He didn't get a chance to mention it, though, as Dazai continued.
    "Why are you here, anyways? Weren't we supposed to meet at the cafe?"
    "Well, yeah, but if you'd answered your goddamn phone, you'd know that I was gonna suggest we meet somewhere different, to avoid any more incidents with the local news."
    "I see. You saw that story, then."
    "Yeah. When did they even take that photo, anyways?"
    Dazai shrugged. "Who knows. The reporters that are desperate enough for a story always find a way, I guess. Anyways, if we're not going to the cafe, where do you suppose we go?"
    Chuuya grinned, his eyes glittering with excitement as he proudly announced, "The arcade."
    "Huh?"
    "C'mon, it makes sense! If we're gonna write this program together, we need to get along. And playing video games is the perfect bonding experience!"
    Dazai made a face. "Bond? With you? Yeah, no thanks."
    "Do you want us to have a decent program, or not?"
    "I have a better idea. I design the program myself, skate to it, and you can sit back and reap the benefits, then fuck off back to your little "family", and we never have to deal with each other again. How's that sound?"
    "God, you are infuriating! Pairs skating requires two people, dumbass, and I'd never blindly go along with a program I have no say in! While the never having to see you again part is enticing, we're gonna have to get through this first."
    Dazai groaned, realizing that this was a battle he wasn't gonna win. "You're just trying to make an excuse to play video games, aren't you?"
    Chuuya turned his head away. Caught. "Well- that might be part of it... but the main reason is what I said before! Teamwork and all of that."
    Dazai rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm gonna go get changed."
    The brunet disappeared through the doorway to his bedroom. He considered slamming the door, just to piss Chuuya off, but he wasn't immature like that (He did close it a little loudly. But it was not out of immaturity.)
    Chuuya, left awkwardly standing in the main room, busied himself with observing Dazai's apartment. It seemed to have a similar layout and design to the dorm Chuuya had crashed in a few nights before, but with a few personal changes. There were some signs that someone lived in the apartment, but they were scarce and fleeting. Where the couch at the Sheep's apartment was constantly covered in blankets and rotting popcorn, the one here only had a sweater delicately tossed over its armrest. The bookshelves were neat and orderly, each book in its place. The kitchen looked like it had come straight out of an Ikea catalog; each counter so clean it looked unused. Chuuya searched for some disorder, some hint of the chaos that was normal in teenager's living spaces, but found none. Dazai was even stranger than he'd thought.
           He scanned the shelves on the wall of the living room. They were stuffed to the brim with classics; old, boring books that adults liked to claim were "works of art", but to Chuuya, they made absolutely no sense. Even Dazai's books were boring.    
    Curiosity overtaking him, he decided to explore. Manners be damned, the chance to figure out more about the elusive brunet was way too enticing. He ducked into the hallway that led to Dazai's bedroom, but instead of going all the way down to the closed door he'd disappeared behind, the redhead peeked into the first door on his right. It was a small, dim room, with every wall hidden by bookshelves. In the center of the room was a desk, its surface clear except for a stack of paper in one corner, and Dazai's laptop charging in the center. Another boring room.
    Moving on, he darted into the room across the hall. Finally, something interesting.
    The room was mostly empty. The wall opposite of the doorway sported two huge windows that made up most of the wall. Light poured in from between the drawn-back curtains, illuminating the large black object in the center of the room. A piano.
    The instrument was beautiful, all glossy surfaces and smooth keys. A stack of sheet music rested on the far corner, mostly neatly placed, save for a few sheets that stuck out haphazardly. Chuuya slowly approached the piano, fingertips barely brushing its glossy surface, as if it would shatter if he pressed too hard. He held his breath in awe- he'd never seen anything so magnificent.
    The quiet moment was shattered as Dazai appeared in the doorway. "Hey, punk, don't touch my shit."
    Chuuya jumped, eyes flicking to the brunet. The taller boy looked much more professional than he'd been ten minutes ago; his hair was brushed, he'd swapped his pajama pants for a pair of black slacks, and his old t-shirt had been traded for a white button-down, tie neatly laying on his chest. He looked almost... pretty, standing there in the doorway, the sunlight streaming in from the window, casting rays over his face that made his dark-brown eyes almost red. "Do you play?"
    Dazai's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Chuuya's tone, soft and genuinely curious. His face softened, and he stepped past the threshold. "Er... Yeah. My parents thought it'd be good for me to learn when I was little, and I enjoyed it, so I decided to continue when I moved here."
    Dazai had never mentioned his parents before. Chuuya knew he lived in the apartment alone, but he'd never asked the brunet about it. He decided not to press the subject.
    "I compose songs for other skaters, sometimes. When they can't find music that fits their theme. I don't do it often, but I enjoy it, I guess."
    Chuuya's eyes lit up as he had an idea, blurting it out before he could think twice. "You should compose the music for our program."
    Dazai's eyes snapped to Chuuya's. "Huh?"
    Chuuya kept going, deciding it was too late to back down. "Yeah, I'll help you. We'll write it together."
    Dazai stared blankly at him. After a beat, he responded, "You've been watching too many coming-of-age movies."
    "Oh, fuck off, its a good idea."
    Dazai had to admit he was right. No matter how much it pained him to do so. He sighed, unable to argue. "Alright, fine, I'll see what I can come up with."
    "Great. Now, move your ass, those arcade games won't be there all day!"
    "They will. They're literally rooted in the ground, you know-" Dazai muttered, following the redhead out of the apartment.
    "Oh, shut up. You know what I mean."