Thread by @sushib0mb, I love the idea of childhood skk who are joined at the [...]

I love the idea of childhood skk who are joined at the hip despite being polar opposites, Chuuya being the ‘excuse me, he said no pickles’ friend to Dazai’s shy, aloof, head always in the clouds self

I want that for them

I always enjoy those aus with this dynamic; Chuuya as the loud, scrappy delinquent and dazai is the quiet brain who tends to be very reserved around people despite his looks and propensity for flirting with girls. They couldn’t be more different, and yet they’re always together

— bickering, a fair amount of the time—but there’s never any malice in it. It’s a lot different than when classmates, boyfriends, pick fights with the class prodigy, jealous of the attention Dazai gets from their girlfriends and female classmates.

Dazai’s not the fighting type.

He’d rather get into their heads, play games with them, ruin them from the inside out. But it never gets to that point, because before he can say much, Chuuya’s already ushering him behind him with that familiar excited snarl, telling them to “come get some, pussies.”

And, despite his petite stature, Chuuya is a beast—and he’s never lost a fight, against one or against a group.

****

“You know, if you keep getting suspended, you’re going to get held back a grade,” Dazai says later, when they’re all sitting outside the principal’s office—

and he’s dabbing at a little cut above Chuuya’s right eyebrow with the corner of his jacket.

Chuuya winces, both at Dazai’s none too gentle wound cleaning, and at the prospect of repeating a grade.

But still,

“Tch... well /they/ started it,” Chuuya mutters, giving one of

the other boys, one with a busted lip and /two/ black eyes, an especially dirty look—and one that is staunchly returned, despite said injuries.

“If they’re gonna be so jealous of their girlfriends talking to other boys, maybe they shouldn’t fucking have girlfriends, then.”

It takes over an hour of back and forth with the principal, but Dazai, Chuuya knows, can be powerfully, charismatically persuasive. He’s fallen victim to that smooth ass mouth more times than he can count—but today, he is nothing but grateful for it, being that he was spared from

suspension, despite being the one who caused the most damage, and it was all due to Dazai’s moving testimony of what transpired in the classroom earlier. Naturally, it was embellished somewhat, but Dazai weaves the recollection together seamlessly, and thanks to him, they’re

walking home together as they usually do—and Chuuya gets to attend class again tomorrow.

They’ve been in this same situation so many times before over the years, yet Dazai always seems to say the exact same thing as they reach the junction of their respective streets.

“You don’t always have to protect me, you know.”

And Chuuya always has the same answer. “So you want me to just stand back next time? To let them beat the shit out of you?”

Chuuya snorts. “To ruin that pretty face that all the girls love so much?”

This is usually the point—

where Dazai usually shuts up and accepts that he has a scrappy little pit-bull as a best friend.

But today is different.

“...well, I care more about /your/ pretty face, to be honest,” Dazai says simply while brushing Chuuya’s bangs out of his face. He traces over the now

dried cut delicately, either not noticing his friend’s stunned expression, or ignoring it altogether in favor of speaking his mind.

“You don’t always have to come to my rescue,” he says a little quieter this time. “Though I’m glad that you always do. And that you always win.”

Chuuya’s cheeks are warmer than the sunshine beating down on their backs, and it only grows worse when Dazai’s gaze softens. “And I’m glad you don’t have any scars...although,” he pauses to lean in and press a tender kiss to the cut on Chuuya’s brow.

“This might leave one, but I think a scar there would look rather appealing,” he murmurs when he pulls away. “You’ll look dangerous.”

“I’ll look like a bad boy.”

“You /are/ a bad boy. And you’ll definitely look even more the part if it scars.”

Chuuya brushes his own fingers over the cut. It’s not deep, but it’s a lot longer than he expected it to be. Of four boys, eight swinging arms, and eight kicking legs, the only thing that truly left a mark on him was the corner of a desk when he tripped over someone’s bookbag.

Chuuya supposes that, /perhaps/, that could be seen as impressive—if it wasn’t so /stupid/ to him.

Bested only by classroom furniture. Pff.

But still, not one of those chumps managed to land a blow on him—or on /Dazai/, so all-in-all, it could still be called a success.

And the sudden feeling of a warm, slightly clammy but delicate hand sliding into his own...Chuuya will happily take that as a bonus.

“Well,” he mumbles, staring pointedly at the ground, “if I don’t protect you, then who’s gonna do it?”

“A fair point,” Dazai replies, chucking.

“I’d probably get beat up and bullied every single day if you weren’t around.”

Chuuya withers somewhat, and nudges Dazai in the direction of his house. “Yeah, well, it probably wouldn’t be so bad if you’d just stop flirting with other guy’s girlfriends.”

Dazai pouts.

“I can’t even have a conversation with a girl without it coming off as flirting. So I’ve learned to just lean into it.”

Chuuya gives his friend a sidelong glare. “Maybe lean a little /less/ into it then, you dickhead. Literally /and/ figuratively.”

He expects a whiny reply—

that’s Dazai’s true nature, after all. Away from the eyes of their classmates, Dazai is a big, bratty, dork.

But after a few moments of surprising silence, Chuuya feels Dazai squeeze his hand tentatively.

“Say...” he finally says after a while, after he’s squeezed and

unsqueezed Chuuya’s smaller hand in his own several times—until they both get used to the feeling.

“Do you think they’ll all back off if we walk into school like this from now on?”

His words are so soft, yet so incredibly /bold/—they literally freeze Chuuya mid-step.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Dazai says a little louder, gaining more confidence, “I think if they saw lil ol’ me on the arm of the toughest kid in school, they wouldn’t pick fights with me anymore. Don’t you think?”

Chuuya laughs. “So I’ve gone from just friend/bodyguard to literal meat-shield.”

“A /cute/ meat-shield, though,” Dazai replies coyly, gracing Chuuya then with a doe-eyed look that no amount of martial arts training or street brawling could ever prepare him against.

Again, Dazai can be /incredibly/persuasive when he needs to be—though in this case, Chuuya

wasn’t exactly resisting him to begin with. And as the minutes pass, what finite resolve he had only weakens that much more, until finally, as they reach Dazai’s doorstep, he lets out a hearty sigh.

“You know...I think I’d actually like that, Dazai.”

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