Archive of Our Own

A nose stuck in a book with a cup of freshly brewed black coffee. That is how one usually encounters Dazai Osamu. He appears randomly, unexpectedly. Scentless and translucent like a ghost, he roams the university halls, always a book of a forgotten century in his light hand.

Dazai Osamu, the scentless omega, seemingly a sigh. Just like the whispers about him, he travels from class to class, stays for a moment, and vanishes again. Nothing catches him or his interest, nothing interferes with his flow of mind. He does what he wants and is allowed to do so. He’s a genius, that guy. No one would dare deny it.

If he ever graced a class of Abstract Algebra for long enough to catch the attention of the lecturing professor, who, of course, like everyone, had heard of this wondrous student, his intellect might get challenged with a particularly difficult problem. In that case, the omega might even be slightly amused by the attempt to humiliate him in front of his fellow university comrades. Though that is not always the case, sometimes professors use him as an example or are simply awe struck by the ease with which he solves problems that take others days to think through.

That kind of raw, natural talent for numbers is a gift bestowed upon few. There are many such gifts in the world, and somehow, Dazai Osamu seems to have been blessed with most of them. Brains, ethereal beauty, wit, and money. 

Chuuya couldn’t be more jealous.

Out of all the awe-struck students, he is the only one who finds Dazai rather pretentious. Maybe it’s that unimpressed look on his face that he never loses. He doesn’t know which he finds worse: the one where Dazai is clearly unimpressed and slightly annoyed or the one where he is unimpressed but smug nonetheless.

It’s not like Chuuya couldn’t solve those problems himself. He’s pretty smart, too, though maybe not as quick and effortless with it. And unlike Dazai, he attends every class. His collection of notes could fill a library by now, but he still makes mistakes. And very stupid ones at that.

He had never seen Dazai write down a single page of lecture notes, not even when the professor stressed the importance of it for the final examination at the end of the semester. Somehow, Chuuya has had the misfortune of sitting beside Dazai multiple times. It always irks him when it happens. Dazai is always the last one to enter the hall, often way too late. But he’s never ashamed of it. Without a care in the world, he floats down to the very first row and sits down on the right side of it.

Chuuya always sits on the right side of the row. He needs to sit there. It’s where his brain works best. Moving to a different row is not an option and not worth the hassle just to avoid a nuisance like Dazai whenever he sporadically decides to show his face in class.

Every time it happens, Chuuya leaves the class with an icy shoulder. Logically, he knows it’s all just in his useless brain, but he could swear that Dazai emits cold air from his body rather than heat. Not seldom is it that the alpha takes a look at Dazai’s hands and half expects them to be blue. How can someone who embodies the cold so much not feel and look like he’s freezing?

Today, too, Chuuya shudders and sinks into himself as he hurriedly writes down his notes from the giant blackboard. This particular professor has horrendous handwriting, just as horrendous as his style of teaching. There is no other class that Chuuya loathes as much as this one. 

Complex Analysis. Ugh. 

Chuuya just knows this particular professor has it out for him. Maybe not on a personal level, but he certainly doesn’t respect him. His respect is earned, and that one time Chuuya completely failed to evaluate an integral using the residue theorem, he earned himself his disrespect.

Humiliated but not defeated, Chuuya has begun to work tirelessly for this specific class. When every other class is accounted for, often late at night, he sits down and drowns himself in more problems and theories, trying to push his head through this invisible wall that prevents him from fully grasping the subject.

Even now, as he’s scribbling into his notebook, no clue what he’s even writing down anymore, Dazai doesn’t move a finger. His eyes glide over the blackboard with not even mild interest. Chuuya glances over, eyes getting stuck on those bandages again that the omega wears every day. He used to think that maybe they were meant to cover up a mating bite. But a mated omega doesn’t smell like flavourless water. So that’s not it.

“He’s about to wipe it off.”

Chuuya blinks. Did Dazai just speak? 

Yes, indeed. The omega spoke in a low, quiet tone. He sounds amused? Chuuya has never actually heard him speak before. Has anyone?

Then he registers what Dazai just said. His head snaps back to the board, where the professor uses a dry sponge to wipe off the part that Chuuya hasn’t copied down yet, distracted as he was with Dazai’s frail neck. The class ended, and he completely missed it.

“Fuck.” Chuuya hisses and pushes past Dazai to go and beg the professor to repeat what he just said. He needs it for his notes. He needs it. But the professor gives him a rather annoyed look and shakes his head in disappointment.

“Why bother showing up to class if you’re not going to listen?”

“No, but I do listen.” Chuuya insists desperately.

The professor clearly doesn’t believe him. Like he doesn’t see him copy notes off the board like a maniac in the first row. Chuuya could fill several books with just notes from this hellish class.

“Ask one of the other students if you need to catch up.” The professor grabs his bag. “Ah– Dazai!” 

The omega, who has just gotten up from his seat but has not yet managed to vanish into thin air as usual, freezes in place. With a sigh, he turns around and regards both of them with disdain. “Yes?”

“You’re one of the smarter ones here, aren’t you? Why don’t you help Nakahara out a bit?”

“Because…” Dazai now eyes Chuuya from head to toe and purses his lips. “I don’t want to?”

Chuuya huffs.

“Ah, well, it wasn’t a question.”

“Must have misheard you,” Dazai replies in the most polite form of sarcasm.

Chuuya’s jaw nearly detaches from his skull. Who does Dazai think he is to be snarky like that? One comment like that from Chuuya, and he might as well have put his neck under the guillotine. Appalled as he is by Dazai’s disrespect towards the professor, he is just as appalled by the suggestion of Dazai helping him out.

The professor shrugs, “Do it or don’t. I don’t care.” He looks at Chuuya. “With him, you might have at least a semblance of a chance.” 

With that, the professor leaves them alone in the lecture room. Chuuya swallows and stuffs his notepad into his leather school bag. “This is fucking…great.”

“Personally, I find it anything but.” Dazai says and shrugs, “Goodbye.”

“Wait!” Chuuya clutches the bag with his hands. He furrows his eyebrows and turns around to look if the ghostly omega has actually listened to him and remained where he stood.

He…has.

Chuuya’s jaw tenses, and he takes a deep breath. “Look, I really, really need to pass this class.”

Dazai crosses his arms and gives him a look that says ‘So?’. 

“You’re not that dense, I know that.” 

Dazai hums, “But you are.” 

“You—“ Chuuya groans. “Just forget about your ego for a second and help me out.”

“I’m not a teacher.” Dazai cocks his head, “Are you going to pay me?”

Chuuya falters. He didn’t even think about that. He can’t expect Dazai to help him out of the goodness of his heart, firstly because he doesn’t know if there is any, but also because they’re not even friends. But Chuuya can’t drop money on any more tutors.

“I can’t.”

Dazai shrugs and turns away again. Chuuya grabs his arm. “Don’t run off just yet! Damn it.” 

The look on Dazai’s face is almost surprised and even a bit scandalised as he looks at Chuuya’s hand wrapped around his arm. Chuuya realizes how this might look. An alpha, grabbing an omega like that in an empty lecture hall. 

As if having touched a hot stove, Chuuya quickly lets go.

“I can’t pay you right now but…Maybe I can help you out some other way?”

“What can you give me that I don’t already have?”

Chuuya is at a serious loss for words. The omega in front of him doesn’t even attempt to hide his egotism. It leaves a bad taste in Chuuya’s mouth, like biting into a spoiled and rotten apple.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” 

Dazai seems to actually think about it. He finally looks into Chuuya’s eyes like he’s trying to gauge the situation and see if there really is something he can get out of it.

“Every Friday. I will help you, but only if we meet every Friday night at 6 pm.” 

Chuuya huffs with a grin, “What, is your schedule that packed?”

Dazai’s lips twitch. “Fine, forget it then.”

“No— no, I’ll take it.” Chuuya insists, “My place or yours?”

“Library.” 

“I can’t study at the library, it’s too loud.”

Dazai doesn’t seem too pleased. “Your place then.” 

“Give me your phone number.”

***

Chuuya’s place is a mess, and it doesn’t get better in the following weeks. Every time Dazai graces his run-down, shabby apartment with a visit, he always makes the same comment and scrunches his nose.

“At least open the windows.” 

And Chuuya always rolls his eyes but dutifully opens the windows. He doesn’t notice it himself, but Dazai insists that the place reeks of Chuuya’s potent alpha ‘stench’. The words the omega uses only get more insulting the more he comes over for their little tutoring session.

Dazai, as it turns out, is not a bad teacher at all. It took some time until they managed to find the right pace and methods of explaining the theorems of this complex math that Chuuya has grown to detest so much. At first, Dazai was too quick and vague in his explanations. It irked Chuuya how, instead of explaining properly, Dazai would just wave his hand whenever he found something too obvious to explain.

Chuuya can understand the math. He just needs a proper explanation. 

The method with which they solved this little issue is…unconventional. They discovered it purely on accident sometime during their second or third session, when Dazai was once again talking to fast and using the bare minimum of words that he could, when Chuuya grew so frustrated with it that he growled.

Dazai was a bit perplexed. Never before had an alpha growled at him. Certainly not when he was doing math.

“Sorry– I don’t know why–” Chuuya scrambled to apologize, lest Dazai take it as an insult and cancel the rest of their sessions, but to his surprise, the omega’s face and neck flushed red. He coughed awkwardly and asked, “Need me to go slower?”

“Yes, please.” Chuuya had said, biting his lip in embarrassment.

He thought it wouldn’t happen again and was even trying to be more conscious of his body from then on, but every time Dazai’s explanations became too superficial again, a low growl would rumble in Chuuya’s throat, and the omega, over time, began to adjust to it.

Almost as if it…came naturally?

Maybe it was then that Chuuya began seeing Dazai as an omega. Dazai doesn’t give off a scent, and he’s rather tall. If it wasn’t commonly known information, no one would even assume that this incredible genius is an omega. Unfair as it is, the beliefs of past times are still holding the people of now in their clutches. 

Halfway through their seventh study session, Chuuya, propped up on his fist, decides to ask, “Why are you wearing such strong scent blockers?”

Dazai sharpens a pencil and doesn’t look up at him. “Why do people ever wear scent blockers?”

Chuuya thinks about it for a moment. Sure, wearing scent blockers is practical when one is in a pre-heat or pre-rut state, but even then, most accessible scent blockers only weaken the wearer’s scent and don’t wipe it out entirely.

“Why are you asking?” Dazai puts the pencil away into his metal pencil case.

“Just curious,” the alpha shrugs. “I have no idea what you smell like.”

The omega finally looks up at him, “You don’t need to know.”

“You know mine.” 

“I wish I didn’t.”

Chuuya raises an eyebrow. “My scent is very popular with the girls.”

“Of course it is.” Dazai scoffs and mocks, “With the girls.”  

“The hell is your problem?” Chuuya has never seen Dazai be quite this expressive before. And about something so…random at that.

“Stop thinking about girls when I’m right here.” 

Dazai seems to realize how that must have sounded and quickly adds, “When I’m here missing my weekly Friday Night dinner with my family to explain simple math to you. So– Let’s get back to this integral…”

And as Chuuya watches Dazai hurriedly ramble on about this nasty little integral, for the first time ever, he truly wonders…can it be…?

No— It can not.

Chuuya doesn’t even want to entertain the idea for a second longer. There is absolutely no chance that this not-so-little omega, the same one that would rather spend an hour warming some cold corner with a book in his hand than spend actual time with any of his uni mates, is jealous. What an utterly absurd thought.

Chuuya bites his lip. Still, he finds that he wouldn’t mind it all that much if Dazai was indeed…jealous.

But no— If someone likes your company, they will make it clear.

Dazai has made it more than clear that he doesn’t even want to be here with Chuuya. Besides, to Chuuya, Dazai is just too proud, too arrogant, to be likable–  beyond his pretty looks and somewhat adorable mannerisms. 

So the alpha ignores this silly thought, locks it away, and concentrates on what is finally starting to make more sense than his unbidden instincts: the math. 

***

After that study session, something shifts between them.

Chuuya isn’t sure what it is exactly, but he seems to notice the omega around more often than he did in the past. At first, he dismisses his suspicions– convincing himself it is a simple coincidence that Dazai’s attendance in the Complex Analysis class becomes increasingly regular.

The omega comes late, as usual, and sits two seats away from Chuuya. Then, after a while, only one seat.
It is a chilly Thursday morning when Chuuya comes in early and claims his favorite seat in the lecture hall. In the first row, as always. He was hoping to work on a past problem that he still doesn’t quite grasp how to solve when, very quietly and gently, someone sits down right next to him.

“What are you working on?” Dazai asks, the faintest of smiles on his lips, peeking over Chuuya’s arm to take a look at his notepad.

“Uhh–” Chuuya nearly jumps in his seat. Dazai has never been so close before that Chuuya could see the moles on the side of his neck. His very…gorgeous, elegant neck. The omega is wearing a white blouse today, looking every bit like the angel, or maybe the ghost, everyone believes him to be. But without anyone else around, when it is just the two of them in that lecture hall, Chuuya finds that Dazai looks…beautiful.

Hauntingly beautiful.

Unfairly beautiful.

Unmistakably beautiful.

“Just a problem from last year’s exam.” He finally answers under his breath.

“You know how to do this,” Dazai says.

“Do I?” Chuuya still can’t move his eyes away from the high collar of the blouse that wraps around his neck and is held together by a tiny button in the back.

“We solved a similar one last Friday when we met up.”

Met up. 

Chuuya’s heart skips a beat at that. The words stroke him like a feather, light and soft, but his reaction feels just as violent as when tickled. Somehow, the idea that Chuuya regularly ‘meets up’ with Dazai is unbelievable.

Dazai is a…a legend in these halls. Chuuya is anything but.

But when Dazai refers to their tutoring sessions as ‘meeting up,’ he almost feels insulted for him. Because it is unheard of that Dazai Osamu just ‘meets up’ with someone.

With Chuuya Nakahara.

On one hand, he wants to grab the omega right here, right now, and tell him that they are not just meeting up but that he is basically doing charity work by tutoring him for free and shouldn’t be so nonchalant about it. On the other hand, he wants to slap himself for degrading himself like that. That is so…unlike him.

He expected more mockery from the omega, more taunting and perhaps even a bit of mean-spirited pity at the sorry state of Chuuya’s overstimulated brain and his shabby apartment. 

As Chuuya fights with himself internally, Dazai grabs the notepad and a pencil– a pencil from Chuuya’s pencil case– and begins to circle the mistakes he immediately spots upon laying his eyes on what Chuuya has already written down. Chuuya grimaces a little. He has a habit of biting the end of his pencils when he thinks deeply. The one in Dazai’s hand has been a regular victim of this habit.

Chuuya turns away and coughs into his fist. His throat feels rather sore today.

Effortlessly elegant as always, Dazai swipes a strand of hair behind his ear and hums. Chuuya lowers his eyelashes, gazing subtly at Dazai’s face. He’s so, so close like this, with how he’s leaning into Chuuya’s personal space. He’s almost grateful that Dazai is wearing those strong scent blockers. He’s not sure he could contain his impulsive thoughts if Dazai was giving off the typically sweet omega scent.

Contain himself? Chuuya wants to scoff at that. To think that he has also fallen for Dazai’s ghostly charme? That is…absurd. Utterly absurd.

Chuuya doesn’t even realize how flushed his own cheeks are. Dazai is not that attractive. He’s taller than him, he never smiles, and he is so…antisocial. In other words, completely undesirable. Chuuya frowns and swallows. 

The unsuspecting omega glances up at him and, upon noticing Chuuya’s upset look, the rare light in his eyes dims a little. He puts the pencil back into the pencil case and sits back again. “Just…compare it to your notes from our last session.”

“Alright. Thank you.” Chuuya’s voice is strained. He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

The omega regards him a few seconds longer, but when Chuuya doesn’t say anything more, he reaches for his leather bag and gets up again. 

“Where are you going?” the alpha asks. The class is going to start soon. Why would he leave now?

“I have something else to do.” The omega’s usual cold tone has returned. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before Chuuya can mention that it makes no sense that he would drop by like this for a minute, just to leave again for an obviously made-up task, is senseless, Dazai is already rushing up the stairs and pressing past the group of students that are on their way inside.

“See you…tomorrow.” Chuuya sinks into his seat. Damn, what has gotten into him?

He grabs his notepad, ready to mull over all the mistakes that Dazai has once again so kindly pointed out. One mistake, two mistakes, more and more– all circled lightly with a pen. Chuuya huffs as a feeling of bitter disappointment overcomes his whole chest.

He thought he was getting better at this. He was getting better at this. Maybe today is just an off day?

Chuuya flips to the next page and pauses. Seems like Dazai left a comment. Squinting his eyes, Chuuya tries to decipher Dazai’s surprisingly ugly handwriting. He’s never seen the omega write anything other than numbers before, which he always manages beautifully, so this– this is a surprise.

The little comment reads; Don’t give up, you got this!

With a teeny tiny heart behind the encouraging sentence.

Chuuya rereads it five times before the class starts and then another ten during it. He can’t bring himself to believe that Dazai actually wrote this. His handwriting is so ugly; Chuuya must’ve read it wrong. But every time he goes over the letters, it spells the same words, amounts to the same, exact sentence.

Don’t give up, you got this!

Chuuya’s heart picks up the pace. He has not misread it. With his thumb, he strokes the indents of the letters, feeling the sentence with his touch. Out of all his friends in this cursed major, no one ever encouraged him to keep going.

It was always, ‘Yes, that class is impossible to pass if you’re not already great,’ or ‘Don’t even bother with that professor, he’s a tyrant.’

But no one ever said, ‘Don’t give up. You got this, Chuuya.’

“Any volunteers?”

Chuuya looks up at the tyrant professor standing in front of the freshly written problem on the board. The expression on his face is one of sadistic satisfaction at the fact that the entire lecture hall has gone so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. No one wants to try. No one wants to be humiliated.

“I would like to give it a try!” Chuuya raises a hand. He revels in the momentary look of shock that this earns him. He grabs the chalk off the professor’s desk and walks up to the board, past the man that haunts him in his nightmares.

If Dazai believes in him, then Chuuya will prove that all their joint effort was not in vain.

***

Come Friday evening, Dazai stands outside the old building of Chuuya’s apartment, holding his leather bag and a black umbrella. It is raining cats and dogs, as one might say, and the temperature is unusually low even for this time of year.

He rings the Nakahara doorbell for the third time and frowns when, just like the last two times, the door doesn’t open with the usual loud buzz. He checks the time on his watch again and sighs. What’s taking Chuuya so long?

Inside, the alpha awakes from his deep slumber upon the fifth ring of his doorbell. Chuuya opens his eyes to a spinning ceiling and promptly closes them again. His whole body is covered in cold sweat, and the sheets feel hot and wet against it. It takes him a good minute to realize two things; one, he feels like absolute shit. Two, he fucking overslept. He slept the whole day away, and now it’s already 6 pm, and Dazai is right outside.

Chuuya throws the sheets to the side, and the cold air hits his naked legs like a whip. He can’t stop himself from letting out a pained groan. Raindrops pound on his windows so violently that he rushes to the door and presses the button to let Dazai in. How long has he been standing outside? He can hear the big door to the building open and then hurried steps coming closer and closer as the omega rushes up the stairs.

Shit, shit, shit.

Chuuya completely forgot to cancel the tutoring session with Dazai tonight. He remembers briefly waking up this morning and falling right back asleep after feeling lethargic and feverish, and he forgot that Dazai would come over later that day. He should have called or texted him, but instead, he slept the whole day away, and he still isn’t feeling any better.

Another thing he realizes, but unfortunately too late, is his lack of pants. He’s standing in the door frame, dressed in nothing but his boxers and a tank top, and Dazai is already turning around and walking up the last of the stairs.

His eyes land on Chuuya’s slumped frame, and confusion flickers across his face. He stops about two meters away from the alpha, holding his leather bag with both hands. He looks unsure and almost a little bit intimidated, and Chuuya feels like an asshole.

“Sorry, I–” Chuuya starts and promptly doubles over in a coughing fit. It shakes him so violently that by the time it lets off, his eyes are bloodshot, and his mouth instinctively gasps for air.

“Chuuya, you’re…really sick.” Dazai determines. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Chuuya wipes his mouth with an involuntary ‘guh’ sound. “I should have. I’m sorry; the day got away from me. I completely overslept.”

“You should get some rest.” Dazai walks up to him. Chuuya leans back, afraid to infect the omega with this annoying sickness. But Dazai doesn’t care; he lifts a hand to Chuuya’s forehead and feels his hot skin for a moment with a concentrated face.

“You’re burning up.”

“I feel really cold.”

Dazai pushes Chuuya back into the apartment and steps inside. Chuuya regards him with a questioning look. “You need to go back to bed. Do you have any medicine?” 

“I think so.” Chuuya scratches his head. Maybe he’s just slow, or maybe Dazai is just extra fast today as he moves across Chuuya’s apartment like he owns the place. First, he grabs Chuuya’s bedding and takes a quick whiff. Upon realizing that it’s completely soaked with sweat, he begins to strip the bedding.

“What are you doing, Dazai?” Chuuya asks, leaning against the wall.

“Changing the sheets,” the omega replies.

“Why are you changing my sheets?”

“Because they’re filthy.” Dazai scrunches his nose. He doesn’t even ask, simply walks over to Chuuya’s closet and rummages through it in the search of some fresh bedding. When he find what he was looking for, he very skillfully puts it on his sheets and pillows and kicks the old one to the side.

Chuuya watches in awe.

Dazai Osamu is changing Chuuya’s bedsheets. If he wasn’t so fucking sick right now, he would probably be slightly turned on. Which alpha wouldn’t?

“There, much better,” Dazai says as he fluffs up the pillows and pulls back the sheets.

Chuuya slips into the freshly made bed, and his muscles immediately relax when his head hits those fluffy pillows. But being so comfortable only makes him realize just how sick he really is. He sniffs and rubs his puffy eyes. How embarrassing.

Without announcing it, Dazai makes his way over to the kitchenette in the corner of the studio apartment and puts the kettle on to brew some tea for the ailing alpha. Chuuya watches silently as the omega moves across his kitchen with a clear mission. While the tea brews, he looks for the medicine. 

“Cabinet.” Chuuya croaks.

“Ah.” Dazai pulls open the drawer and goes through the unorganized mess of pill blisters and bottles. Half of it is probably expired already; most of it is still from the little care package his mother made for him when Chuuya first moved out.

“This will have to do.” Dazai hands him the pills and a glass of water.

“Thank you.” Chuuya doesn’t even check what he’s been handed. Even death from poison would feel better than what he’s feeling right now. He regrets that Dazai, of all people, happened to come across him in this state. His puffy face, bloodshot eyes, and dry lips are probably anything but an attractive sight to the omega.

Chuuya hides half of his face under the blanket while Dazai brings over the cup of herbal tea. Chuuya didn’t even know he had one like that in the pantry. It smells awful, but if it will help…

As he sips on the tea, propped up against his pillows, he notices that Dazai has taken off his coat and instead of making a run for it in order to not get infected with whatever it is Chuuya has right now, he simply takes a seat at the big wooden table where they usually study together and takes a sip from his own cup of tea which Chuuya didn’t even see him make.

The alpha wants to slap himself. Of course, Dazai would want a cup of tea after Chuuya has made him wait in the rain for God knows how long. He hopes that Dazai won’t get sick as well because of that, that would certainly be the cherry on top. He should probably give the omega a proper apology now. One that isn’t followed by an air strike of bacteria in the omega’s direction. 

“Hey, Dazai?”

“Hmm?” 

“I’m really sorry for making you come all this way for nothing.” Chuuya clears his throat, “I know you were not exactly thrilled by the idea of tutoring me at all, so…I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Dazai chuckles.

Chuuya’s never heard him do that before.

“It’s alright, honestly.”

“Really? Don’t you have some millennium problem to work on in your spare time?” Chuuya mutters.

“Chuuya, I hate math.”

Huh? 

Huh?!

Chuuya sits up straight in his bed, suddenly wide awake and spirited. “The fuck you mean you hate math?”

Dazai grins and looks down into his cup. “Can’t stand it. I would rather die than do math in my free time.”

“But– but–” Chuuya stutters. His eyebrows are furrowed so tightly that it might leave permanent wrinkles between his eyebrows. “You’re a math genius!”

“I guess I am.” Dazai smiles a little, “But don’t you think I would actually show up to class if I enjoyed it so much?”

Chuuya swallows down his surprise and contemplates for a moment. He always assumed that Dazai’s poor attendance was due to boredom. Everyone always assumes that Dazai Osamu, the math whiz, is so good at mathematics that going to class is simply a waste of his time, that he understands everything so quickly that he’s simply too bored to attend.

“You’re telling me you’re this good at math without attending class, but you also don’t do shit for it outside of class?”

“I do when I’m here with you.” 

“But that’s only the past couple of months! And you’re telling me you’re tutoring me for free in your free time even though you hate doing math?”

“I guess you also had the wrong impression of me.”

Dazai says this with a hint of bitterness lacing his voice. It must be frustrating when everyone puts you on this pedestal of greatness and lifts you so high that you don’t know how to get down anymore.

Chuuya has always dreamed of achieving such greatness himself, but at this very moment, seeing Dazai look so completely miserable while he talks about it, he is almost glad that he’s not great. At least his hard work will always be seen as an honest achievement, rather than something that was handed to him.

Chuuya leans back against the headboard of his bed and closes his eyes. Never in a million years did he think he would pity Dazai. It’s easier to find reasons to hate someone than to sympathize with them, especially when one feels they are worse off.

“How’s your temperature doing?”

Dazai has silently come to stand beside Chuuya and holds his hands to the alpha’s hot forehead. At that moment, Chuuya’s nostrils flare up when they catch the slightest whiff of a sweet, honeysuckle scent. Instinctively, he grabs Dazai’s arm, to which the omega yelps in surprise, and sniffs his wrist.

“Are you wearing perfume today?” he asks and sniffles. Maybe his nose is playing tricks on him.

Dazai looks away and timidly pulls his wrist back. “No.”

“So then…”

“I stopped taking them. The scent blockers, I mean.”

Judging by the way Dazai’s head has lowered into his shoulders and his hair falls over his eyes as if to hide their true emotion, he concludes that the ‘scentless’ omega is telling the truth and indeed weaning off those powerful scent blockers. Something inside Chuuya shifts at that.

“When?”

“Today.” 

“Can’t be. it takes days until your scent comes back when you stop taking scent blockers.”

Dazai lets out a deep breath. “My scent has always been extra potent.”

Chuuya frowns and blinks.

“Why?”

Dazai shrugs and turns away as if to look out the nearby window, but by now, Chuuya knows that Dazai has the tendency to avoid people’s gazes when he feels uncomfortable. It bugs him a little that he’s no exception.

“Thought I’d try finding some new friends? People don’t want to be friends with someone they’ve never smelled before.” Dazai says curtly, “I had friends. In my first semester. But…”

Chuuya kicks the bedsheets off and sits up straighter, glancing at the slumped omega. “But?”

“One of them died, and the other…” Dazai pauses. “We don’t speak anymore.”

Chuuya coughs. “Died? Died how?”

“Car accident.”

“I’m…sorry to hear that.” Truly. Chuuya can only imagine how difficult it must be to deal with mentally, when your friends don’t just leave you or betray you, but pass away. Staring at Dazai’s back, he wonders if the ghost of the university has become one not because he’s an antisocial loner but rather because of the grief that still gnaws at him.

It would not be unheard of for an omega to shut themselves off from the outside world in one way or another when grieving someone. Only, what kind of friendship did Dazai have with that person to mourn them for so long that he is only now ready to be unearthed from under the grief again?

“Was he just a friend?” Chuuya asks and watches for a reaction. At first, Dazai is still, almost frozen in place, but then he shakes his head.

“But it doesn’t matter anymore,” he says. 

“Don’t say that,” Chuuya replies, eyebrows furrowed. 

Dazai breathes in and walks away, muttering something about going to the bathroom. He probably didn’t expect to talk about it today. He came here to talk Chuuya’s ears off about some math problem, not to reminisce about his dead friend. Still, Dazai’s sweet scent seems to linger around him now, having grown stronger with his emotions, and Chuuya finds it somewhat comforting. Dazai didn’t even ask to cancel the session today despite knowing that Chuuya would be one of the first people to smell him again.

Is that a coincidence? Chuuya hopes not.

Truth be told, he couldn’t stop thinking about this curious omega. At first, he was insulted by the notion that just like everyone else, he had silently fallen for his good looks, but gradually, more and more things about him began to live in Chuuya’s mind day and night. His elegant hand movements, his voice that always ranges between sweetly masculine and slightly mocking, even the way he tilts his head when he’s surprised that Chuuya understood a concept.

Slowly but surely, things also started to make sense. Why Dazai refused to share his scent with other people, why he never shows up to class, and Chuuya painstakingly realized that all his reasons for being the way he is are more than understandable.

Chuuya has begun to see the omega in a completely different light. 

“I should probably leave soon,” Dazai says as he comes back into the main room of the little studio apartment, looking refreshed and stapled back together. “Here, you should probably take these and get some sleep–”

Dazai definitely didn’t expect that while handing Chuuya a little bottle of pills, the alpha would grab him by the arm and yank him down to sit between Chuuya’s legs. Like this, with Dazai’s back pressed against his chest, Chuuya takes the bold liberty to hook his chin over his shoulder and close his heavy eyes.

“I really don’t want to get you sick, but,” Chuuya smirks, “I don’t think I’ll be able to get any sleep if you leave now.”

“Chuuya, let go…” Dazai clears his throat and tries to wriggle his way out of the alpha’s tight embrace. Unbeknownst to him, Chuuya can feel his heartbeat very well like this, and it only confirms his suspicions that the little omega is just as affected by Chuuya as he is by him.

“Don’t wanna.” Chuuya whines, “I’m so cold, and you’re so warm.”

Another new discovery. A very welcome one.

“We usually study until 8 pm” Chuuya glances at the clock. “I still have plenty of your time.” 

“You don’t pay for my time.” Dazai retorts, trying to lean as far forward as he can.

Chuuya hums, “But you come here for a reason, don’t you?”

Dazai goes still in his arm and, blaming his sickness-induced delusion for his actions, Chuuya gently moves a strand of hair behind Dazai’s ear to whisper, “What am I paying you, Dazai? Why do you come to me every Friday night? Can’t be just because you believe in me.”

At that last part, Dazai shudders visibly and stops fighting to get out of Chuuya’s embrace. The alpha’s potent smell, now engulfing him like a warm blanket, falls over his sharp mind and slows down every other thought. He thinks for a moment, scratching the skin between his thumb and index finger.

“My Dad makes the whole family come together on Friday for dinner.” He explains, “But my family is anything but a rosy bunch, and I would honestly rather do math than sit with them and have them ask me out about my life.”

Chuuya hums, “So that’s how it is.” 

“That’s how it is.” Dazai nods. “My family sucks, my only friends disappeared, I study math even though I hate it and the guy I like thinks I’m a stuck up asshole.”

“I don’t think that–”

“Never said it was you.” Dazai shoots back.

Oh.

Shit.

Chuuya internally curses for outing himself like that. But close as he is to the omega right now, he can smell the happy pheromones on him. Chuuya leans closer. The urge to lick over Dazai’s neck befalls him, but he’s afraid he won’t be able to explain it away with his sickness as an excuse. So he turns to defensiveness.

“I saw that heart you left in my notepad yesterday.” Chuuya huffs. “So…don’t act like I confessed first or anything.”

Dazai laughs softly, and Chuuya’s head shakes with the movement of his shoulders. What a wonderful sound it is. Maybe that alone could heal Chuuya if he listened to it long enough. Chuuya juts down his bottom lip and, with his arms wrapped around Dazai’s lithe body, pulls the omega further into his bed. Thank God the sheets are fresh.

“No, forget that. I like you.” Chuuya says, “I want to have said it first.”

“Technically I did–”

“No. Don’t argue with me. I’m sick.” Chuuya coughs into Dazai’s shirt. 

“Eww, Chuuya.”

Chuuya’s ears burn, and definitely not from the fever. “I’m sick and weak and very stupid today, so stay with me, okay?”

“Okay.” Dazai rolls his eyes, but Chuuya is oblivious to that or how Dazai bites his lip, “I like you too.”

And just like that, nothing else matters anymore. Not the math, nor the tyrant. The rumors, the reputation, his jealousy, and his assumptions. Nothing but the honeysuckle scent in his nose and the laughter of the omega between his arms. All this time, Chuuya believed that what he wanted was to use Dazai to beat Dazai and to prove himself capable to a little man who relishes in terrifying his students. In a way, he owes that professor because never in his life would he have dared to touch Dazai with any part of his body or his heart had it not been for his suggestion to engage the omega as a tutor. 

Dazai turns around in his arms to face him, and Chuuya pulls the covers over them to keep him comfortable. He used to think Dazai was cold and therefore prefers the cold. Now that he knows that’s not true, this association has changed and been replaced with a new one.

“Do you feel any better?”

“I sure do.” Chuuya offers a smile. Physically, he doesn’t really. But what alpha wouldn’t feel good having the omega they like safe and warm between their arms like that? Had Chuuya known it would feel so nice, he would have bathed in a puddle long ago if it meant Dazai would have come to take care of him so lovingly.

The omega hums and, after visible contemplation, presses his face into the crook between Chuuya’s neck and shoulder. The skin there is burning, but his scent potent, and Dazai shamelessly inhales it, taking his sweet time.

“Do you think I could maybe join you and your friends for lunch sometime? They seem nice.”

“They are nice.” Chuuya agrees with a whisper, “Pick me up after class on Monday, and I’ll introduce you.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I just came to class?”

“You never come to that class, Dazai.”

The omega shifts slightly and relaxes again. “You noticed?”

“Of course I have.” Chuuya nuzzles his nose into Dazai’s hair, “All I do is notice you. Even when you’re not there.”

“Maybe that’s why you suck so much at Complex Analysis.” Dazai chuckles. “You spend too much time looking for me, thinking about me, hoping–”

Chuuya sighs and pinches Dazai’s side, making him yelp. “Don’t be so cocky. I suck at it because the professor sucks. The whole situation sucks.”

“If you pass the final I’ll suck you off,” Dazai says, voice timid but lewd at the same time. Shocked and delighted, Chuuya grabs Dazai’s face with both hands and gives him a first, deep, and motivated kiss on the lips, “Don’t go back on your word, ‘kay?”

Dazai’s eyes glisten with surprise and determination, and a genuine smile spreads on his rosy lips. “Kay.”