Dazai had always been an odd kid. An outcast, if you will. That much about him didn’t change when he moved from Tokyo to Yokohama in the fourth grade (for the record, he’s a junior in high school now). A fresh start didn’t always mean a good one.

But, moving came with a plus. And that plus was Chuuya Nakahara. Their relationship was complicated, so much so that their classmates gave up trying to figure it out. But, one thing was for certain, something they made abundantly clear since the day they met:

They hated each other. No, it wasn’t even hate, it went beyond that. Every day pranks and insults would be thrown back and forth, constantly calling one another names or just being as much of a nuisance as they could. So, they were enemies.

…Right?

Chuuya was curled over the toilet, his head spinning and stomach churning from a mix of alcohol and overwhelming emotions. He could faintly hear the sounds of the party going on outside, but he felt more distant and isolated than ever in the small bathroom.

He clenched his fists tightly, trying to steady himself and fight back the nauseous feeling as he stumbled to his feet. He knew he was a mess, and the last thing he wanted was for Dazai to see him like this.

Chuuya found Dazai on the roof of what his poor ass would call a mansion, but was really just a typical, middle-class family home. He quietly sat down next to Dazai, and they stared at each other for a few moments, before Dazai’s eyes flickered down to Chuuya’s lips.

They lingered there for a moment, and suddenly, before Chuuya could process, Dazai was leaning in—and fuck it all, Chuuya wanted to kiss him so bad—but he couldn’t kiss a boy. That was a sin, and instinctively, in an act of what Chuuya claims as ‘protecting himself,’ he shoved Dazai away. A mix of disgust and sadness wracked Chuuya’s body, and he felt the bile rise in his throat again.

Chuuya swallowed harshly, not able to look his best friend in the eyes. “Dazai, I’m not…” his words were cold, yet clearly hesitant.