#Osamu Dazai x Chuuya Nakahara

[feeblescholarmyass]

Chapter One

tags: skk, Osamu Dazai x Chuuya Nakahara, figure skating au, based on the movie The Cutting Edge (1992), Dazai is a bit of a brat, trans!Dazai, Chuuya is an ex hockey player, Chuuya is a bit of an asshole, Olympic figure skating, Ango as Dazai's legal guardian (trust me it had to be done. I had no other option. just trust me on this.)

note: because of characterisation purposes, I removed the original context of the very first scene. I've never seen Chuuya as a "player" kind of guy so the whole scene just felt unnatural. Expect similar edits due to characterisation later. If you enjoy, please leave a comment or reblog! Feel free to ask to be added to the tag list if you'd like to be notified for future updates!

thank you to my beta reader and wonderful boyfriend @ratty-rat-toot 🩷

masterlist | next

cross posted on ao3

Chuuya groaned as an unfamiliar beeping noise pierced through the veil of sleep and into his consciousness. He buried his face deeper into his pillow, trying to ignore the aggravating noise. It only took a couple more seconds before he was done with it and forced himself to sit up, blearily looking around the room for the source of his irritation.

An alarm clock placed inconveniently far from his bed screamed at him, the mechanism shaking from the volume of the alarm. He grumbled a few curses under his breath as he slipped out of bed, the cold winter air clinging to his bare chest maliciously. He briefly regretted not having slept in the sweater he had been wearing the night before.

He slammed his fist down on the off button, then rubbed his eyes to get a better look at the time. As the red symbols faded into recognizable numbers, he felt his heart leap into his throat. No no nonononono. He had to be reading it wrong. It must have turned off in the middle of the night and reset itself. That was the only explanation he could think of for the numbers visible on the screen.

“SHIT!” He exclaimed. “I’m so fucking late!”

He panicked, shoving all his things in his duffel bag and pulling on his clothes, hands trembling as it hit him just how late he was. He had meant to set an alarm for nine a.m, but in his sleep-deprived and anxious state had somehow managed to instead set it for one. In the afternoon.

He stumbled to the door, practically pulling it off its hinges as he hurried outside and sprinted to the stadium.

Dazai felt the sting of the icy air against his palm. The hand of his partner did little to stave the creeping chill that threatened to ruin his flawless stance by forcing him to shiver (an unfortunate bodily function he had yet to find a way to circumvent).

While he managed to keep it together, his partner was another matter entirely. The lanky man had been growing increasingly clumsy the closer they drew to their performance. He made more and more mistakes and Dazai was starting to lose his patience.

As they twirled around the rink, Dazai noticed that his partner's grip on him begin to waver. Just when they were reaching the highlight of the routine, he felt the slip. The two tumbled around on the ice, barely catching themselves from crashing into a wall.

He couldn't help it when a frustrated cry bubbled up from his lips. If they couldn't get it perfect and quick, he could kiss his chance at the gold goodbye. And he needed that gold.

Mori groaned from the bleachers, his head in his hands. “This is the Olympics, Dazai. Thirty million people just called their families in from the kitchen to watch the replays. What do you think this is, Junior Pairs, ‘02?” He sighed exasperatedly.

Dazai wrinkled his nose at the man, not caring enough to hold his tongue. “It's not my fault he can't get a proper grip on me,” he sneered, shoving his thumb in the direction of his skating partner. “It's humiliating to work with someone so untalented.”

Before he could get another word in, his partner interjected. “She’s impossible to work with! If I'm not good enough for her, then no one is.” He complained, not even bothering to address Dazai. Instead, he spoke directly to Mori. Like that would fix anything.

Mori rubbed his temples. “Dazai, just give him a break. You two can't keep fighting like this if you want to look good for the judges. They'll be able to see the tension from miles away.”

“Well, until Hercules here learns how to lock his grip, I'm going to keep holding him accountable.” He shoved his partner away and skated off, not willing to put up with another moment of either of the men’s complaining. He was perfect. If something had to change, it needed to start with them.

He pulled himself off of the rink and removed his skates, already dreading the talk with Ango he knew was inevitable. He didn't need to hear that we was being difficult right now. That wouldn't help anything. All he wanted was to get back to his room and sleep like a rock until it was time for the performance.

Of course, fate had other plans. Before he could even finish packing his bag, Ango was already standing above him, looking exhausted.

“Dazai, you can't keep fighting every time you get on the ice,” he began. Dazai cut him off before the lecture could get going.

“I'm not going to apologize. If anyone needs to apologize, it would be him.” He spat, roughly shoving his arm into the sleeve of his coat.

“Dazai!” Ango attempted to reason with him, but Dazai was already out the door.

Chuuya didn't give himself a moment of rest after he made it past security. He sprinted at full speed towards the rink, berating himself in his head for being so late. The game had already started, and they needed him to win this. As he chided himself for being so stupid, he suddenly felt himself slam against something. It wasn't solid enough to be a wall, but definitely hurt like the devil.

He glanced in front of him, finding dark eyes glaring back up at him. Though the short, wavy haircut and boyish face gave him the impression that the person in front of him was one of the most delicate looking men he had ever seen, the sparkly skirt peeking out of their puffy coat suggested otherwise.

He ignored it, instead choosing to ask the real question. “Does this go up to the ice?” He huffed, clutching his bag close to his chest.

“What?” The person asked, glaring at him as they pulled their skates back into their arms.

“Does this go up to the ice!?” He repeated, his heart thundering in his chest.

“Is that all you have to say? What were you raised in, a barn!?” They responded, pushing themself up off the ground on their own.

“Doesn't fucking matter, is this the way to the ice or not?!” He cried, starting to get frustrated with this gender ambiguous brat.

“Yes! God…” They muttered in response. Chuuya didn't stick around to hear any other complaints. He scrambled to the rink, getting on his gear as fast as he could before finally getting called into the game.

The second he hit the ice, he felt everything click into place. The cheering of the crowd, the glide of his feet slipping effortlessly over the ice, and the shoving back and forth of the players as they fought for the puck was exactly what he loved about hockey. And with how many teams were practically begging for him to join them after the Olympics were over, it was clear that hockey loved him back.

He took a deep breath, the smell of sweat and the cold sinking in through his lungs to his very soul. He felt so perfectly focused, like he was right where he was meant to be. Then the whistle blew again and he was off.

He had a straight shot. Everything was perfectly lined up; all he needed was to make the move and they would catch up to the other team’s lead from before he had arrived. Just as he swung his stick, he felt another player slam into his side. It was too late. There was nothing left to stop the goal. But the force of the impact sent him flying sideways into the wall.

His head slammed into the glass. He hit it at just the wrong angle. His helmet flew off and everything went black.

Dazai could practically taste victory as he watched the couple before them skate off the rink. The lights focused on him and his partner as they made their way towards the center. They stood for a moment, the tension between the two of them as cold and solid as the ice they stood on. Then their cue went off and the music started.

He let his anger melt during their dance. There's no point in staying angry when the judges– and world –are watching.

He let his partner lead him in their dance, twirling and bending him to just uncomfortable enough lengths for it to be impressive.

They continued on, both feeling the pressure of the impending climax of their routine. The problem spot, as Mori so affectionately called it.

The hands on his waist tugged at his stomach in the usual dysphoric manner, but there was something else there. Something heavier. Something worse.

The pull of gravity on him seemed to increase as his feet left the ground. His palms interlocked with his partners failed to reassure him and he felt the jolt of panic hit him like a tidal wave. He was going to fall.

He tried to find something to stabilize himself with. His skates dug into the skin of his partner's back. Then he fell. The lights followed him to the ground, the cheers of the crowd going quiet. He felt that familiar sting of humiliation prick at his heart and his tear ducts. He had ruined everything.

Chuuya’s leg bounced up and down as he watched the doctor anxiously. He probably hadn't blinked for a good two minutes.

The doctor sighed and straightened the stack of papers on her desk. She set them down and folded her hands, resting her chin on her knuckles. “For the record, you've lost eighteen degrees of vision in your right eye. In most cases, it would be considered an inconvenience, but for a hockey player-”

“So how long until it comes back?” He asked, the bouncing of his leg picking up speed.

She grimaced, placing her hands on the table, trying to look comforting. “You had extreme trauma to your-”

“How. Long.” Chuuya growled, leaning closer. His grip tightened on his knee and he could feel his nails digging into the skin.

She didn't respond for a long moment, looking as if she was struggling to find the right words. Then, she sighed. “You've got a blindside, Chuuya. It's a permanent condition. I don't see professional hockey in your future.”

It was like time stopped. He could practically hear his hopes and dreams shattering into a million tiny pieces. He wanted to argue, insist there had to be some sort of operation they could do to get it back, but the look on her face told him everything he needed to know.

There wasn't an operation. There wasn't anything they could do. There wasn't hockey in his future. It was over.

by @feeblescholarmyass on tumblr

reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

tag list: open!

[leifinthebreeze]

Soukoku: Bandages

Warnings: death, depression, character death, implied self harm, suicide, gore, blood, cursing, the most heart wrenching angst I could think of so read at your own risk

“Chuuya!”

All he could do was scream, scream the name of the person he loved most in the world, the name that had changed his life, the name that had kept him alive. And so he did.

“Chuuya!”

His breath came in ragged gasps, his legs ached, and yet he continued running, ignoring the flames that continued to grow out of the toppling buildings around him.

He sped around the corner of what was once a busy intersection, only to be met with the worst sight possible. Maroon symbols covered Chuuya’s arms and face, and his eyes were blank, but he wasn't fighting, in fact he wasn't moving at all.

“Chuuya!!” Dazai cried, rushing over to the boy's body as it twitched and writhed on the concrete. “Chuuya.”

Dazai’s heart beat violently as he knelt down and took one of the hands he had carefully committed to memory, every scar, every crease, in his own. The markings faded away from the touch, leaving only trails of crimson blood to decorate his pale skin.

“Dazai?” Chuuya said weakly, his voice breaking as if he was about to cry. “You…you made it?”

“Why?” Dazai asked, lifting Chuuya’s head onto his lap. “Why would you use corruption? When you knew I wouldn't be able to get here in time?” Salty water dripped from dark brown eyes, falling down to land on a face that he had fallen in love with.

Chuuya was silent for a moment, as he stared up at the young mafioso.

“I hate…” He began in a raspy voice, lifting a hand to touch Dazai’s neck. “...these damn bandages.” The sentence took Dazai off guard. He had been expecting something like ‘your stupid face’ or ‘your shitty hair’, something that assured him that the Chuuya he loved was still there, and that everything would be ok. Oh god why did it have to be that?! “I dont want…you to need…them anymore.”

“Fuck!” Dazai sobbed now, cupping Chuuya’s cheek in his hand. “Chibi! This is all my fault!”

“Stop crying…you wuss…or i'll kick your ass.”

Despite himself, Dazai smiled through the streams of tears running uncontrollably down his face. “You're too short to reach it.” He sniffed in a shaky voice.

Chuuya’s face contorted as if about to give a sarcastic retort, but then shifted, as if his attention had been drawn to something completely different.

“Hey…Osamu?”

He hesitated for a second, taken off guard by the use of the name. “Yeah Chibi?”

“Can we…go to the bar tonight?” He asked, as if it was just another day, just an ordinary request. His voice was growing softer, so unlike the Chuuya who was always yelling at the top of his lungs and would never stay still.

Dazai smiled, even though his throat was tightening, holding back his sobs and cries. “Sure, but you're paying.”

“Fine…just…this once.” The words were barely audible as the last syllable slipped past his lips, and the heat of his last breath escaped. The beautiful sapphire eyes Dazai was so fond of, stared blankly up at him, as Chuuya Nakahara’s body went still.

Dazai clenched his teeth, then, as if a cord snapped in his mind, and all the sadness overtook him in a single tidal wave, crushing him all at once with the unbearable pain and grief.

“Chuuya!” He wailed, cradling the boy's body close to his. “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! This is all my fault! It should have been me and not you! I should have been able to save you! We can go drinking every night, and I'll pay! I’ll even get you the most expensive hats I can find!” He begged and pleaded, but still no sign of life could be found in the blank expression. “Come and yell at me for playing music too loud, or for calling you short! Just please don't leave me!” He bent down, pressing his forehead to what was once his last lifeline. “Please. I love you.”

…

“You're gonna make me go bankrupt by the end of the month with all these trips to the bar.” Dazai said, flopping down on the couch in their shared apartment.

“This is just payback for every time you’ve annoyed me.” Chuuya explained, hanging his coat and hat on the rack, then walking over and sitting down right on top of his partner's stomach. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table, ignoring the complaints from the brunette beneath him. “Hmm, I wonder what I should watch.”

“Get off of me shrimp!”

“Man, I had no idea our couch was so loud.” He said mockingly.

Dazai suddenly sat up and grabbed the smaller boy by the shoulders, pinning him down below him and assuming his previous spot atop the writhing ball of fury.

“GET OFF OF ME ASSHOLE!”

“Man, your right Chibi, this couch really is loud!” He said, grinning contentedly.

Chuuya huffed, but after a few moments Dazai felt hands on his back, pulling him closer and warm air on the crook of his neck. He took this as a signal to shift to the side so that Chuuya’s back was pinned up against the pillows behind them. He wrapped his arms around his torso, rubbing circles into the tense muscles beneath the black t-shirt.

“Osamu.” He heard his given name spoken from below his ear, a name Chuuya only used on rare occasions, the first time he said ‘i love you’ for instance.

“Hm?”

There was a pause. “Stop trying to kill yourself.”

The words rang out through the empty apartment, reverberating inside of Dazai’s head like an alarm. He was completely surprised by the request, startled into freezing for the briefest moment.

“Awww, does Chibi actually care about me?” He said in a mocking tone, trying to bypass the situation.

“Don't change the subject.” The accuser removed his face from where it had been tucked beneath the accused’s chin, and looked at him with such an expression of concern and love that it made Dazai’s heart skip a beat. A gloved hand came up to cup his cheek. “Please Osamu, promise me you’ll stop trying to commit suicide.”

Blue eyes glittered in the dim lamplight, staring into opposing dark orbs. It was a silent plea, emotions reflected in the surface of a world Dazai was completely void of.

He smirked. “I promise.”

He tilted his head, then leaned forward and captured Chuuya’s lips with his.

“Chuuya?!” Dazai sat up, scanning the dark room around him for any sign of the boy who had been in his arms just seconds ago. The feeling of the kiss still lingered, warm and comforting. He quickly moved to feel the other side of the bed, praying that the boy's slumbering form could be found where it always had been. All his hands touched were the cold sheets that had remained empty, void of the person Dazai most longed for.

Tears began flooding his eyes as he curled up into a ball for the fifth night in a row. He sobbed into his knees, just wishing Chuuya were there to hold him.

Chibi, it's already been a whole week, but my world has crumbled around me without you here.

Why did it have to be that memory? Every night, over and over again, he was reminded of the promise he would do anything to take back.

“Asshole! Stop stealing my hat!”

“Quit laughing, wouldya! I'm still growing!”

“Shut up, if you're sad you're sad, so just tell me and I'll be here for you.”

Old words kept running through his head, old memories, old emotions, only causing shivers to run through his haggard body.

It's like I'm being pulled, day by day, dragged closer and closer to the edge. It's getting so hard to fight back, so hard not to let go. I don't have your power anymore Chibi, don't have the courage and strength you gave me.

“Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya.” He whispered his name over and over again, with no real purpose except being close to the only part of him he still had.

“Please Osamu, promise me.”

Chibi, I'm so sorry.

His feet slipped off the side of the bed.

“Stop hiding things from me, we're partners, so let me help you.”

A cool breeze blew through the barren apartment as double doors were opened.

“I promise, I won't leave, ok? So just cry for as long as you want, I'll be right here.”

A tear dripped from his chin and fell into the black oblivion of night outside the balcony, landing far below on the street.

“Sorry Chibi, looks like we both broke our promises.” Dazai smiled to himself as the railing slipped away, and he was consumed by the darkness.

In an instant, the bandages on his arms and neck unraveled as he fell, and for a moment, he could have sworn he saw a hand reaching past them, held out in a forsaken and final plea.

Don't worry, I'll see you soon…Chibi.

(I wanted to see if I could make myself cry with my own writing...)

[actually-mentally-ill]

finding out making up whole detailed scenarios with fictional characters in your head is a “sign of mental illness”

[lotus-pear]

bro got dropped on the ground afterwards

[zzzx009]

they match each other's freak

[sundae-meringue]

[esmiara]

[yebyyhfushi]

Z z z☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

[spoksstuff]

bundle up, dumbass 😤💞

all credits to the artist @perdizzion on X, ig & tumblr

[shrimpkini]

I finally finished this seen page madness!!! Here’s more of my t4t soukoku au

The next day they went their separate ways and never spoke of it again.

[toomanymarkers]

People joke about Dazai and Chuuya being romantically experienced or whatever, but I think it's the opposite. Chuuya doesn't know what that stuff is because Mori thinks it's funny

[mossyphroge]

sillies !

[birb0t]

skk kissies for the soul

[actually-mentally-ill]

me after saying i’d get tasks done but i’ve just been reading fanfiction for the past 3 hours:

[cffeine]

dazai is stabbed. unhappy with the knife inside of him, he pulls it out. chuuya panics. aren't you supposed to keep those in to stop the bleeding? chuuya stabs him again.

[nighttimeebony]

This is Chuuya.

Chuuya likes his personal space.

This is Dazai.

Dazai also likes Chuuya's personal space.