#threadfic

he used to LOVE flying as a kid when his dad was a pilot. favorite thing in the whole world apart from his family.

but he grew up.

learned the stats and chances of something going wrong on flights. saw the news and each report to the point a pit would form in his stomach whenever he even saw a plane.

and don’t even get him started on turbulence. that’s a sure-fire way to a near heart attack.

it’s not a fear, mind you.

he’s not afraid of dying a horrible death in flames and shrapnel.

he’s afraid of the possibility that something could go wrong and his family could lose him.

it sounds arrogant, but he doesn’t mean it like that.

he just knows that, if he died, his family would be devastated and he can easily see how fast things would spiral for them.

call him a worrywart, but it’s true.

so here he is by the window on this smallass 2x2-seated plane.

one would think the window would make him more anxious because “oh look, the ground aka your potential grave” but it helps ease him a bit to see outside and not feel trapped in the aircraft.

they haven’t taken off yet but he can’t keep his eyes off the window and the outside world.

he hates fucking planes, man.

“15A?”

he startles at the voice, looking up to see a tall brunet standing in the aisle with a line behind him.

when chuuya only blinks at him, the man continues with a sheepish smile, “i think you’re in my seat.”

he holds up his ticket and lo and behold, 15A stares back at chuuya.

but that makes no sense because /chuuya/ is 15A.

he starts digging through his bag to grab his ticket he’d hastily shoved in it after scanning it at the gate.

is he on the wrong plane? does he need to sprint like a mad man through a crowded airport to catch his flight?

he finds his ticket and holds it up—

15B.

15-fucking-B.

how did he fuck up this bad? he always gets the window seat, there’s no possible way he accidentally grabbed the aisle seat while selecting his seat online.

but then it hits him.

he’d left his laptop open after clicking it to grab his credit card for checkout. and he’d returned to find one Baki sitting on the keyboard and mousepad.

he’d been in such a rush to get his flight booked so he could run off to work that he hadn’t thought twice about the fact that his cat could have done something in the thirty seconds it took for him to get back to the room.

/fuck./

“i didn’t even realize, i’m sorry. here—“ chuuya starts, already getting up with his bag in his hands.

he ignores the tremble he feels in them.

it’ll be fine. he can still see the window easily from the aisle seat, he’ll be /fine./

the stranger must notice something, though, because he holds up a hand to stop chuuya. “it’s okay, really. if you prefer the window, take it.” and he plops down in the aisle seat, letting the line behind him through. “besides, now i get more leg room.”

he winks — and now that chuuya isn’t lowkey panicking, he notices how pretty the stranger’s amber eyes are.

actually, he’s rather handsome, overall. chuuya thinks if he’d seen this man before their flight that he would have been the redhead’s airport crush.

the man tilts his head and /oh shit/ chuuya forgot to respond— “right, thank you very much.”

the brunet just hums and begins putting his bag away so chuuya follows suit, getting comfy again in his seat.

ten minutes later has the captain coming over the intercom about the flight and then the crew is doing the safety instructions and then they’re pulling out and heading to the runway and /fuck/, chuuya hates flying.

the engines rev and the wheels take them down the stretch, building speed way too fast for chuuya’s stomach.

then they’re lifting up and chuuya’s gripping the armrest in between him and the stranger as he squeezes his eyes shut.

/of course/, they hit turbulence right away. of course, because god hates him.

fuck this airport and its shitty turbulence and fuck him and this airplane but not in the literal sense because that would be bad—

“hey? are you okay?” chuuya snaps his eyes open as he’s gently poked in the arm. chuuya’s muscles are so tense that the man’s finger doesn’t even dip a little bit into his flesh.

the redhead puts on a strained smile. “yeah, i’m good,” he gets out. the brunet squints his eyes but doesn’t push it.

chuuya goes back to switching between looking out the window and shutting his eyes quick whenever they hit a bump of turbulence.

soon, they get high enough where the turbulence becomes infrequent enough for him to relax a bit and he enjoys a good hour of gazing out the window and playing a dumb game on his phone.

they even hit one blip of disturbance and it happens so fast that he doesn’t get a chance to freak out.

that is, until the captain came overhead and announced they’re flying into a small storm to avoid an even bigger one.

chuuya swears to god, he’s gonna kill himself—

the plane dips /hard/ and chuuya’s hands immediately fly to find the closest purchase they can, a muffled squeak leaving his lips.

something warm sneaks around his hand, and chuuya momentarily forgets about the plane shifting around as he glances over.

oh.

oh /no./

as if chuuya wasn’t dealing with enough feelings, his body betrayed him and latched onto the hot stranger’s wrist.

maybe the plane should fall so that he doesn’t have to live through this embarrassing as hell experience.

the man is still holding onto chuuya’s hand with his free one.

“shit, i’m sor—“

“it’s okay, really.” the brunet says, moving chuuya’s hand to instead /hold his own/, holy fuck— “i’m not a fan of planes myself so i don’t mind.”

he sends chuuya a small smile, squeezing his hand.

chuuya can feel his face burning but the gesture has his heart lifting up from its pit of dread.

another dip has chuuya coming back to reality, and he uses it to turn away and hide his face, gazing back out at the dark but pretty clouds around them.

(dazai would be almost a little offended but the death grip around his hand tells him all he needs to know.)

when the turbulence all but stops an hour later and the pilot comes back on to announce they’ve passed through the storm and are home-free, chuuya all but deflates in his seat.

the adrenaline crash is already hitting him hard, but he knows he won’t be able to sleep well if he tries to.

a gentle pressure against his hand has his eyes fluttering open to look at the stranger.

he can’t even muster up enough energy to feel the right amount of shame he should feel for how embarrassingly sweaty his hand is.

the man beside him is also a little pale in the face, and the thin crease between his eyebrows is enough for chuuya to realize he was also stressed out.

he does well to hide it, though, and asks, “might i ask for the name of the person who just survived that horrifying experience with me?”

and it’s such an absurd way to ask for someone’s name that chuuya can’t help but laugh, much to the chagrin of any sleeping neighbors, he’s sure. “It’s chuuya. nakahara chuuya.”

the brunet grins back. “dazai osamu. pleasure to meet you, chuuya~”

hm. chuuya likes how his name sounds on his tongue. very much so.

“pleasure to meet you as well.”

they continue to make small talk for the rest of the flight. chuuya finds out that dazai was actually grateful chuuya wanted the window seat.

he has a fear of heights — to which chuuya had commented with a snort on the irony of “you’re tall and have a fear of heights?” — and being reminded of it, even with the window closed, was torturous, but all the aisle seats were booked for once and so he had no choice but to take the window seat.

chuuya finds out that dazai’s going to their destination city to visit family — his cousin and her girlfriend — as well and makes the offhand comment that they should meet up if their schedules allow for it.

he immediately agrees, not even knowing what his sister has planned, hoping to buy dazai lunch and coffee as a thank you for today’s flight. they exchange numbers and he plans to text dazai as soon as they land and his phone’s airplane mode is off.

he’s not about to lose fate’s chance at a hot date because of a numerical typo.

the rest of the flight goes smoothly and soon the captain comes back on the intercom to announce that they’ll be soon landing. as soon as the plane’s wheels touch down and the aircraft begins to slow down, both of them are breathing heavy sighs of relief.

“thank god,” dazai breathes out, slumping in his seat a bit. it’s only when chuuya goes to stretch does he realize that he’s /still/ holding onto dazai’s hand.

his sister’s gonna have a hay day when she hears all about this, dear lord.

to be fair, though, dazai is still holding onto his hand, too, and chuuya takes that as a small win.

but he doesn’t wish to be rude so he begins to let go of dazai’s hand.

“aw, chuuya doesn’t want to hold my hand anymore?” dazai playfully says.

chuuya goes red-faced because he absolutely still wants to but he didn’t want to overstep and now he’s getting teased, something he’s never been good at handling smoothly. “i— well— shit. i mean! i don’t mind if you don’t.”

the last part is all but mumbled out as chuuya looks away. dazai giggles — giggles! — and chuuya’s decided he really likes the sound of it and now he can’t live in a world without it, or else he will die a sad, lonely death.

“ah, our turn is coming up,” dazai says, looking into the aisle to gauge how far along the line of people leaving is. “i’m sad to be the first to let go, but i do need to grab everything i have.”

dazai lets go and chuuya doesn’t like the cold around his palm and fingers that causes. but he should also pack up and make sure he has everything, so he goes along with it.

they head off the plane — and chuuya could kiss the ground for letting him walk upon it safely again — and weave through the crowds of people lined up at the gate they came out of.

both of them need to head to baggage claim, and chuuya only realizes later that they didn’t even discuss it, it sorta just happened in a weird, mental connection kind-of-way.

they exit the security-portioned part of the airport and upon arriving at baggage claim, they hear—

“oh! that’s my brother right there.” “there’s my cousin!”

—at the same time. chuuya immediately looks up upon hearing kouyou’s voice, a grin already spreading across his face before he processes what, exactly, she and the lady beside her said.

the two women are already walking up to them just as dazai says “wait a second—“

“do you two already know each other?” kouyou’s friend(?) asks.

chuuya’s brain stops working as kouyou bombards him in a hug. “huh?”

“chuuya, meet yosano,” kouyou says after pushing away enough to let him see. she still keeps her hands on his shoulders. “my girlfriend!”

holy shit.

/holy shit/.

“is she your cousin?!” chuuya swings his head to the side to ask dazai, who’s just given yosano a hug back.

that’s answer enough, but dazai replies with a laugh, “the one and only.”

“how do you two know each other?” yosano asks.

“we sat next to each other on the plane,” dazai says with a flip of his hand, as if this isn’t the most insane coincidence in the history of coincidences.

“and you didn’t know each other beforehand?” kouyou double checks. chuuya shakes his head as dazai pops the ‘p’ of a “nope!”

“small world, for real,” yosano laughs.

kouyou giggles too. “well, let’s get your bags and head home.”

chuuya hates flying, he won’t lie. but there’s no place he’d rather be than here in his sister’s car’s backseat next to a guy he’s come to quite enjoy and adore as the brunet yaps to his cousin about the flight.

and even if chuuya would have met the guy at his sister’s place, he’s still grateful he was forced to fly since it meant meeting dazai a little bit earlier than scheduled.

end~

imagine these as like the author endnotes on ao3:

- “mini” she says. what a liar.

- one may think i hate flying because of this but i actually love it lmao

He goes through SJ's trama, it's not pretty, it's not good, he loses the one person he thought he could trust, but on some level he can't believe he ever waited for YQY to come back for him. His revenge is bloody, brutal, and angry.

He goes through it. He survives. It's what he's best ast, surviving. He claws his way to power, he's always hated feeling weak, and here, with stunted cultivation (again) alone (again) and freshly traumatized. He knows what wu yanzi wants and has no problems learning from him…

At least until WY pushes a bit too far and LB kills him in a panic. Ifk what happened then, how he gets into the sect, but he does. And... he finds he absolutely cannot sleep.

He's upset. He should be safe here, he knows this peak, there's bullies sure but he's cunning and cutthroat. But... he just can't rest. He goes to a brothel to blow off steam, he finally had the money for it, and being with a woman to blow of steam was all he did in his past life

He just wants to feel like himself again. Between dealing with ptsd (old and new, not that he knows he has it) and sheer exhaustion, he falls to familiarity.

But...

When he's there he just.... cant

So he sleeps. Doesn't do anything with anyone. But here, he's away from the sect that so hurt him in the past, and men, who so hurt him in this life

Later, when he gets a fake cultivation manual from an older disciple, he's hit with de-ja-vu. It's almost funny, to him. He remembers mingfan and starts idly daydreaming about acquiring some specific ants…

Haha but he doesn't want to throw away this chance yet. He still doesn't know what this strange life is. It's the same peak he trained on, the same peak he destroyed. But he recognizes no one, and no names sound familiar. At least... not until he gets promoted to peak lord.

"Shen Qingqi" and the second he can, he flees. He tries to leave the mountain in a dazed rage. He's almost numb with it. And then he can't leave.

OOC

he can't get out. He hasn't unlocked the ooc feature yet. He didn't even know it existed. He has to laugh then. He refuses to cry.

He has well and truly become the same monster who poured tea on his head. Who beat him senseless. Scorned and abused him. Who still holds more power over him than he'll ever admit.

We end this fic years later. As he watches himself climb up those stairs with bright eyes and a young, gaunt face. Hopeful and sad, clutching at the false jade pendant under his robes.

And he watches, bitter, envious, afraid and alone.