part 5

Dazai’s mind is working a mile a minute, as he considers his newfound knowledge; Chuuya is from France he knows, so this will be a bit more tricky, but he’s always been adaptive.

Plotting, Dazai sets out to get the books he needs to put his plan into action.

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Chuuya, bless him, is still surprised when Dazai shows up at his window, knocking politely on the glass pane. The redhead panics for a minute, pivoting back and forth between his window and his door before he finally decides that maybe he should let Dazai in before the idiot gets the idea to jump off the window to try to kill himself.

With practiced ease, Dazai hoists himself through the window and into Chuuya’s room. Carelessly, he brushes dirt off his coat, ignoring the redhead who is staring at him intently. Only when he’s done does he look at the other. “Good evening Chuuya.” He says cheerfully, walking over to the others bed.

Dazai makes himself at home on Chuuya’s bed, scooting up so that he can lean back against the pillows. Chuuya has followed him across the room and is now hovering by the foot of the bed. Once again, Dazai is struck by how frail and lost he looks-he squashes those feelings quickly, focusing on what he’s about to do. “I have a gift for you.”

Chuuya looks torn between curiosity at what it is Dazai could have possibly brought him and utter terror. Dazai tries hard not to think about what kind of life the boy in front of him could have lead that would have him afraid of a gift.

He places his hands in front of him, palms facing Chuuya, index fingers and thumbs touching at the tips. He flips them around until his palms are facing upward, then points towards Chuuya. The redhead is watching him with fascination as he brings his hands back towards his sides, fists curled with the thumb and pinky sticking out before he lays one hand flat in front of him and rests the other one on top of it. Finished, he puts his hands in his lap and grins at the other boy. “How are you tonight?” He asks, translating what he’s just signed at the other.

“It’s nice” he says, sliding his palms across one another, “to meet you.” He finishes by bringing his hands together, index fingers sticking straight up. The smile that Chuuya gives him makes his chest hurt, but he ignores it in favor of watching the boy sign the same thing back at him, movements far more fluid than Dazai’s own.

Things have shifted between them, and Dazai knows instinctively that Chuuya will answer his questions this time around.

“Are you actually mute?” Dazai asks, and he can see Chuuya turn red even in the bad lighting of the room. The redhead shakes his head, and Dazai hums. “Didn’t think so.” A beat. “Japanese is a hard language to learn, especially if you’re used to French.” Chuuya looks surprised that he knows about the other’s heritage, but he gets over it quickly. Slowly, he nods his head in agreement with Dazai’s assessment.

...To be continued ...

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