Mori

TW: Warning, this chapter includes graphic and abusive content, please read at your own risk. 

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Despite Dazai's lengthy sleeping over the next day, he was still too unwell to go to school on Monday. At least, that's what he told Chuuya, but Chuuya had a sneaking feeling that he was just trying to get out of the first day of school.

So Chuuya was at school alone, utterly, unmistakably alone. He hadn't felt this alone since his school days last term before he rekindled his relationship with Dazai.

He could hear the buzz in the hallway about the new RIVALS manager, and about how things were supposedly going to be bigger, and better than ever. Apparently, according to the grapevine, RIVALS was en route to a new era.

Chuuya didn't want anything more to do with RIVALS, but he couldn't help but listen in to the hushed chatter as he walked the hallways.

Dazai texted him.

Waste of Bandages: Hey, what class you got?

Chuuya: Science.

Waste of Bandages: ewwww gross. Imagine having to go to school.

Chuuya: I kind of like Science.

Waste of Bandages: You're such a nerd, I love it.

Chuuya smiled down at his phone as he ducked into class.

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Dazai wasn't actually sick. I mean, he technically wasn't feeling 100% but he probably would have been fine to go to school. Instead, he spent his day lounging in bed, having nothing better to do than text Chuuya and watch 90's cop movies.

Dazai: What's the point of science, chemistry specifically, if we only mix chemicals we know WON'T explode?

Chibi: Not everything has to explode, Dazai.

Dazai: Yes it does, a fiery explosion never fails to make a class exciting.

Chibi: You mean one that YOU created?

Dazai: Possibly.

Chibi: How many teachers have you traumatized with your antics?

Dazai: I think I'm gonna need more than two hands to count that.

Chibi. Of course...

Dazai laughed at his phone, glancing up at the window. The skies had cleared of the previous week's rain, and the sun was beaming down on Dazai's room. The silver car sat in the same spot as if it hadn't moved an inch. If Dazai squinted hard enough, he could almost see a figure sitting in the front seat.

Dazai shrugged and returned to his phone, but Chuuya had gone radio silent. He's probably in class.

But his phone buzzed anyway. RIVALS. This year's first post.

Dazai's eyes widened in a flinch.

Oh no.

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Chuuya tapped at his desk, waiting for the minutes to go by until class ended. The scratches and marks of graffiti on the table were rough beneath his fingertips as he tapped away, time passing by in excruciating seconds that seemed to last forever.

When eventually the bell rang, Chuuya sprung up, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and striding out of class. As he walked the hallway, his eyes fixed on the floor, something felt off. His body burned with the weight of eyes piercing his skull.

When he looked up he felt his stomach drop. Everyone was looking at him.

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Chuuya had to sit in the bathroom at school, hugging his knees to his chest as his breathing pulsed rapidly, his head spinning in dizzy circles. He was too scared to leave, too scared to move. As he had paced the hallways, looking for a place to hide, there had been low murmurs and whispers, the ringing in his ears drowning out the piercing sound of chatter.

Chuuya bit down on the skin of his knuckle, letting the pain overwhelm the growing sense of fear. Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe he was anxious, it was the first time he'd been at school in a while. He was just anxious. That had to be it.

Once his breathing had steadied, he stood and smoothed his shirt, tucking his hair behind his ears in an attempt to make it look less like he'd cried. When he opened the stall he could hear voices outside, lunch had ended ages ago and Chuuya was running late for his final class, so he didn't think twice as he rounded the corner of the bathroom.

In a flash of movement, a figure stood in front of him, Chuuya missed the opportunity to dodge as a fist swung towards him, colliding with his stomach. Chuuya cried out, his vision reducing to a tunnel. He doubled over coughing.

"He's over here guys!" The person shouted.

Chuuya stepped back, clutching his stomach as he blinked through the pain, and his eyes focused to meet a senior he'd seen around before, he was tall, with broad shoulders and a hideous smirk on his face as he loomed over Chuuya.

Chuuys swore as he realized he was trapped, the sound of running footsteps sending him sprinting back into the stall and locking the door. Pressing himself against the far wall and breathing through the dulling pain in his gut.

Someone pounded on the stall door, "Get the fuck out, Nakahara."

Chuuya gritted his teeth, "Why? Want my lunch money or some shit."

"We just wanna talk," The voice sneered, sarcastically.

"Fuck off."

There was an indistinct whisper, Chuuya stood very still, trying to listen in, but all he could hear was his own shuddering breath and the sound of people moving into the stalls next to him.

By the time he figured out what they were doing, it was too late. He screamed as someone grabbed his ankles and pulled him to the floor, his head cracking into the bathroom tile. He was helplessly dragged into the next stall, kicking and squirming as he was restrained, the person behind him gripping his arms tightly.

Chuuya's ears rang, his head spinning. He could feel a slow trickle of blood dripping from a wound on his forehead. In front of him were three guys, older than him, he expected, as they were taller, and had bigger builds. One of the seniors stepped forward, grinning madly. His name danced around Chuuya's mind, finally coming into view. Mori.

"Holy shit, he looks fucked up," One of the voices laughed.

The one restraining him huffed, "Little shit hit his head on the ground on the way down."

Mori knelt in front of him and grabbed his hair at the scalp, forcing his head up to look at him as he laughed, "Jesus Nakahara, I just wanted to talk."

Chuuya said nothing, only glared at him. He willed himself not to cry, God, he begged himself not to cry.

"Don't pull his hair like that, he probably fucking enjoys it," Someone cackled.

"Of course he does," Mori grinned, his eyes flashing, "He's a fucking slut after all, aren't you?"

Chuuya bit down on his tongue, trying his hardest not to retaliate by spitting in his face.

Mori snaked his hand up Chuuya's face, pressing his thumb to the cut on Chuuya's forehead. Chuuya cried out as he dug his fingernail into the flesh, blood pooling and dripping into his eye.

"Aren't you?!" Mori repeated, raising his voice to a yell.

Chuuya caved, tears slipping from his eyes, "I'm not! Stop it!"

Mori released the pressure of his thumb as someone behind him muttered, "Look he talks."

"Who else have you been selling your fucking body to?" Mori asked, sneering.

Chuuya squinted through the searing light of pain as his vision wavered.

"Let me guess," Mori tilted his head to the side, "You've been everyone's little whore to pay for mommy's drug addiction. Is that why you let Dazai fuck you, was it for the drugs or the money?"

Chuuya kept his mouth shut, tensing his muscles as he attempted to break free.

"God, what a sad, sorry bastard to stick his dick in you, I thought he got loads of pussy, turns out he's just fucking some faggot." Mori stood up, straightened his coat, and smiled before kicking out his foot, letting it collide with Chuuya's body once, twice, three times, Chuuya choking in agony as tears blinded him.

He felt the person behind him release him, but he could no longer move, he let himself slump against the floor, crying into the bathroom tile.

"I wonder what it's like to fuck a guy like you," Mori sneered, "I'd rape you, but you'd enjoy it too much for it to be any fun."

Chuuya barely heard them laugh as they walked away. He could barely hear anything. Only the agonizing sound of his heartbeat against the cold floor as he cried.

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A/N: 

I'M SORRY. I'M SO SORRY.

this chapter was just me lowkey trauma dumping but DON'T WORRY EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY

I'M SORRY