Chapter Text
Chuuya closed the front door behind him and locked it, kicking his sneakers off in the process. “I’m home!” he called out, cupping his unoccupied hand to his mouth to annunciate the sound. Doing it mostly out of habit–because there was never anyone to greet him when he got home anymore.
Receiving no reply, he huffed and set his backpack down. Only briefly unzipping it to grab his sketchbook, before zipping it back up and setting it down again.
He set his walking cane down near the door frame, trusting his feet to at least make it upstairs, not thinking of the possible consequences that follow the decision.
Verlaine was off doing work at the ‘very busy’ and ‘important’ company he worked at. The redhead missed when his brother actually had time to do things with him.
Kouyou was also off doing work, she had been on a business trip to France for at least two months now. Chuuya just wanted to see her again, missing the sweet delicious tea she would make him.
Rimbaud was almost always either at the house or the hospital. they were already very sick, and are just prone to illness in general–though they did often go on walks and such to enjoy nature's enchanting scenery. It seemed like they weren’t home right now though. Plus, they didn't even legally live here, they still lived in their own apartment despite the fact that this was basically their home.
Which left him all alone. Not that he minded.
(yes, he did mind.)
Sighing in disappointment, Chuuya headed up the stairs–clutching the railing for help–until he spotted the door to his room. Crossing the hall with a hand braced on the wall, he slid inside the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Only now did Chuuya really realise how uncomfortable he felt. Taking his black ear defenders off and placing them down on his desk–he turned and dimmed the LED lights in his room to a dull purple so that it wasn't as harsh on his sensitive eyes.
Chuuya was tired and wanted his boyfriend. He doesn’t know if he did something to make dazai upset or something…he was colder than usual today.
He missed Dazai’s warmth–not that he would ever admit that of course, however, especially since Chuuya himself was always cold for some godforsaken reason, he practically relied on dazai to keep him warm.
The fabric of his outfit was making him severely uncomfortable as well.
He swiftly changed out of his clothing, including his binder, stripping down to just his boxers and socks.
Padding over to his closet, he grabbed the door handles and pulled it open, revealing a large array of garments. The ginger began to rifle swiftly through a multitude of apparel. Then, his dual coloured eyes spotted the perfect garment.
He grabbed the oversized black hoodie from his closet, knowing it was one of the many that Dazai had given to him. He slipped it on easily, the larger size making it nice and breathable for Chuuya. The ever so faint smell of his lover that still stuck to it comforting the teen.
Before he could dwell on the sweet scent any longer, he found his feet already dragging himself towards his comfortable bed. And before he knew it, he was laying down beneath his weighted blanket, surrounded by the countless plushies and blankets he’s acquired over the years.
He snuggled up with his comfort item, a soft plush seal he got from a museum while on a trip to Canada. He was checking out a museum in his freetime and just had to buy the adorable stuffed animal from the giftshop. Chuuya slowly lulled into a state of safe and comforting slumber.
—-
Chuuya awoke in a brightly lit room. As his striking eyes adjusted to the harsh light, he realised that he recognized the familiar room.
This was a room from his old house, he lived here up until when he was 13 years old. That was before both his parents died, leaving him in the care of his older siblings, kouyou and verlaine. That's besides the point, his eyes lit up instantly when he recognized the room.
It wasn't just any room. This was his old studio.
He drew, painted, practised instruments, crafted, and wrote in this room. He spent all of his freetime in this room. He doesn’t have anything even somewhat resembling this in the present, but he’ll hopefully get one when he eventually moves out. He did all of his projects in this room and was allowed to completely decorate this room to his liking.
The short man stood up a bit too fast for his and his body's liking, taking just a moment for the dizziness to pass, grabbing ahold of the conveniently placed walking cane that lay right next to where he woke up.
He immediately started looking through all of his old belongings, reminiscing on past memories. Shuffling through a drawer full of writing pieces, he took time and care to look at each and every piece, the poetry, essays, fantasy stories, and so many other different pieces of writing.
Once he was finished scouring through the writing he did oh so many years ago, he moved onto a different section of the room; this area held a beautiful array of instruments. The male spotted a lot of his old instruments that he didn’t even own anymore, and some he still possesses and even plays to this day.
An example for one of the instruments that he still practised–his violin.
His beautiful, expensive, rare violin. It was gifted to him by his parents, so of course he treasured it deeply. It was also the musical instrument he was the very best at–not saying he wasn’t skilled in a lot of different areas and instruments, however he’s always been the most passionate about the violin.
He decided to not dwell on the beautiful instrument too long since it was still in his possession, therefore he moved onto the next instrument.
The next thing he spotted was a custom electric guitar–made specially for chuuya, an arsenal red stratocaster. He got it for his 11th birthday. and then some of his other instruments, these ones weren’t too special–at least not enough to warrant any reaction from Chuuya.
In the very corner of the area sat a beautiful, polished, black piano. Carved into the polished black coat of the piano was something he never, ever remembered being there.
the number, 5158.
Chuuya never did anything like that, nor would he do something like that to one of his precious instruments.
He then quickly decided to ignore the disturbing sight, already feeling anger and unease bubbling in his gut. I mean–who the fuck would even do that to such a beautiful instrument?
Chuuya didn’t play the piano anymore, he of course definitely would–like most of his past forgotten instruments. if not for the fact that ever since he moved houses, he didn’t have the room for such a grand instrument. Or most of his instruments, which is why he doesn't play most of them anymore.
After chuuya was finally done being mesmerised by the room, he noticed the door to the room was slightly opened. He crossed the room and reached for the door, pulling the already open wood open even further.
Peering outside, Chuuya recognized the rest of his childhood home. yellowish-beige carpet flooded the floor and a pale blue coat of paint draped itself on the walls.
Fully exiting the studio room, he entered a hallway. Down the corridor he spotted multiple familiar doors.
First he recognized his older brother Verlaine's door, easily recognizing the muffled sound of two voices that could be heard from inside–the owners engaging in a deep conversation. If chuuya listened hard enough, he could recognize the language that was being spoken. French. His first language.
He then saw his older sister, Kouyou's door, the familiar aroma of the lemongrass herbal tea she used to love could be smelt from where chuuya stood at the end of the hallway. and then his parents' shared room’s door.
(if there was a door that smelled of lavender, Chuuya ignored it.)
Walking down the hall, he heard a soft hum from downstairs. Suddenly on edge and alert, Chuuya immediately paused in his tracks and instead made himself seem as light and non noticeable as possible. Stalking his way silently to the top of the stairs.
Straining his ears, he realised the humming was not the only melodic tune that he could hear. The humming followed the calming melody of ‘you are my sunshine’-- and if you listened close enough, you could hear an old wind up music box singing to the same melody. Suddenly forgetting all of the tension in his bones, chuuya noiselessly slank down the stairs and peered at the source of the mesmerising voice.
Slowly, a mess of ginger locks crept into his view. Two toned eyes widening, he paused dead in his tracks. He recognized that colour and style. That–that was his hair.
Before he could dwell on the thought any longer, a voice broke him out of his thoughts. ”hello? Is anyone there?” an indescribable voice called out. Chuuya was quickly taken aback by the odd static-like voice, before mentally regaining his barracks.
Before the ginger could even attempt to respond, he stumbled over his feet and his cane, proceeding to tumble down the flight of stairs, yelping small ow!’s and ouch!’s. The ruckus definitely alerting the only other redhead in the room.
“Woah there! Are you okay? here–let me help you up.” the injured boy heard a distorted voice from above him. Chuuya noticed a–hand? He thinks? He can’t tell what exactly it is based on the way it continuously morphs.
He gripped it anyway and was helped up, it felt like solid air. If that makes sense, chuuya didn't have enough time or patience to dwell on it. When the male was finally standing upright steadily he thought of the situation, usually a fall like that would be disastrous, especially with his legs–however due to dream logic, chuuya barely felt any pain at all.
He looked down and brushed the imaginary dirt off his black sweatpants. He then looked back up at the kind person.
Their head was turned away from Chuuya, their fluffy hair obscuring what little of the face Chuuya could’ve possibly seen.
“Ah! Right, just the boy I was looking for.” they exclaimed, the implications of who they were talking about clear. “me?” the freckled male pointed to himself, still a bit shaken up from his rough fall. “Yes, you. Now, come and follow me.” they beckoned.
The other ginger guided the male to the living room. It was just as Chuuya remembered. The baby blue sofa, the fancy tv, the shared white bookshelf, chuuya’s favourite patterned rug, the side table Chuuya accidentally broke when he fell backward onto it. He could remember the concern in his parents' eyes when they saw him fall.
Breaking himself out of his trance as he spotted the other taking a seat on the soft material of the couch. Analysing every last detail as he looked at the room one final time, he padded across the room to join the other person on the furniture. Feeling the familiar fuzzy material of the white rug he loved so much under his feet–wait, when did he take his socks off?
He soon followed in the other footsteps, sitting down on the sofa just as the other person did.
“Finally decided to join me? It took you long enough, I was afraid my hair would start turning grey.” they groaned, or at least that's what Chuuya thought that noise was. “You love this room a lot, don't you?” they mumbled. “huh? Oh yeah totally. This was my childhood home afterall, i haven't seen this room in ages.'' Chuuya sighed, nostalgia practically dripping from his voice.
The other nodded an agreement. “I understand what that's like.” they added, a hint of something unreadable in their tone.
Chuuya raised an eyebrow at the statement but ultimately decided to not comment on it.
He couldn't see their face, but he knew by just their body language that they were deep in thought and also probably zoned out.
This mysterious figure reminded chuuya a lot of himself for some odd reason. He couldn't care enough to put that much thought into it though.
He contemplated between snapping them out of it or just letting themself slowly fade back into a state of full attention. Choosing the first option. Now, if he was basing the method he would use off his own experiences, which he obviously was, then the best way to go about ‘waking them up' was to call their name and / or tap their shoulder.
Ofcourse, Chuuya could’t do either option because, one; He didn’t know their name, and two; he wouldn't touch them with consent, even if just a tap of the shoulder. Chuuya hated when people touched him without consent.
So now he only had his less favourable methods left, quickly rifling through the different options mentally–he finally landed on the one he deemed right for the situation.
The male just decided to leave the other alone until they returned to focus. Standing up, Chuuya crossed the room and began flipping through some of the old books they used to own. A book fell to his left, as he bent over to pick it back up–he realised something. He didn’t recognize this book.
Grabbing hold of the hardcover, he took a glance at the cover. The cover was completely blank. except for the title–which read 'Stormbringer'. He flipped open the pages with scarred fingers. He let out a disappointed sigh when he realised the book was written in english, which he didn’t understand–and could much less read.
As he closed the book, a word caught his eye. ‘Chuuya.’ Chuuya? Me? Why is my name in this book? It could just be a coincidence though. Chuuya eyed the word suspiciously before setting the book down on its rightful spot on the shelf. He mentally filled the newfound information for later reference.
By now, the other had snapped out of it. “Oh…sorry about that, I got lost in my thoughts.” they murmured. “It's fine.” the redhead waved his free hand as he strode back across the length of the room, again.
taking his seat next to the other on the couch again, they finally began to converse.
“So, why don’t you tell me about any problem you might be experiencing right now?” they offered. “Me? Right now? Here?” chuuya pointed to himself, a bewildered look in his eye.
“Yes, you. I want you to tell me about anything, anything at all, that's bothering you right now.” they nodded.
Chuuya’s mind analysed the question over and over again. He wasn't one to dump his feelings on others. He didn't want to bother anyone with his troubles when they most likely struggled with personal things themself.
…however, its not like this was the real world. It was only a dream. And the other wasnt even real and wouldnt remember it. So, chuuya made up his mind.
“Well, to start–” the ginger began.
—-
“Wow. that sure was a lot of info.” the other responded to chuuya’s hour-long rant. A quiet ‘more than the other people.’ could just barely be heard muttered under their breath.
“I'm sorry, do I talk too much?” chuuya winced. “No, no! You're fine. I tended to ramble too.” they assured him. Chuuya took note of the use of past tense.
“Would you rather I don't say anything or give you advice?” they questioned, giving chuuya the choice which he appreciated.
However, chuuya didn’t need advice.
“I’d rather you just don’t say anything please.” the male responded.
“Okay! Understood. Now, thank you for your time.” they waved at chuuya, and before the toned boy could even process what they said–they were gone.
Before he was even given enough time to make a confused noise he was gone as well.
He soon opened his eyes to light shining down on his face.