Figments of Beauty

II

Mid-August, 2012

Was Dazai late for the tour he was supposed to be giving?

Absolutely.

Was it on purpose?

No one could prove that.

But twenty minutes after two-thirty—much earlier than he had expected, actually—Dazai was sauntering down the large, pretentious marble staircase that led to the lobby of the main building with an easy smile. He was supposed to be meeting the poor model Mori had just recruited; someone around his age, apparently.

When the lobby came into full view, Dazai immediately zeroed in on the figure standing near the doorway, arms crossed over their chest. That must be the one.

Even from where Dazai stood, a few steps away from the ground, he could tell that the kid would do well here, at least by looks alone. His height may become an issue, but other than that Dazai knew Mori found a good one.

His hair was coppery, fiery against the sunlight that filtered in through the doors behind him. His eyes, brightest piercing blue, were striking in a way Dazai hadn't seen since he joined the company. His skin was a smooth milky white that Dazai was sure looked winsome against the richness of the rest of his coloring. It almost reminded him of Kouyou, the starkness about him.

He was dressed sharply, too, which was a good sign. Despite what Dazai had heard about him—that he was a street rat pulled out of the gutter by Mori himself—he seemed relatively comfortable in the finery. There was no fiddling with his sleeves, no shifting of weight from foot to foot. He looked almost comfortable standing there.

He was irrefutably, undeniably beautiful.

"You must be the new recruit! Glad I caught you."

As if the pair wasn't expecting each other in the first place.

"Dazai Osamu. It's a pleasure to meet you, Chuuya." Dazai had flounced toward Chuuya and currently held his hand lightly in his own, making a show of formality as he leaned down slightly to press a slow, chaste kiss to Chuuya's knuckles before straightening himself again, still smiling easily. His hands were warm.

Chuuya's eyes—they were even more salient up close—narrowed. "Hey," was all Dazai was offered.

His voice was low and gruff; slightly scratchy, too, like he'd been screaming not long before this. For all Dazai knew, he had been.

But Dazai could tell from the slight widening of his eyes, the way his lips pinched together slightly, that he knew who Dazai was. Most people did, after all. He was the company's newest star, rising quickly to fame as his face spread across Yokohama like some kind of plague. The Demon Prodigy, he was being called. It was almost frightening, how quickly he'd caught on across the city.

"That's all? There's no need to be shy, I promise I don't bite. Though I don't think I could even if I wanted to; you're very short." Dazai made a big show of looking Chuuya up and down with a furrowed brow as Chuuya's face twisted up in anger. It was true; he was very short, especially for a model. Mori must see something in him to offer a contract when he barely stood at five-three.

"You shithead! You think I couldn't blow your brains out right now if I wanted to?"

That comment nearly surprised Dazai. It was rare that he met many interesting people, let alone such violent ones.

He shrugged. "Probably not. You couldn't reach."

"Why you—"

"Let's not dawdle, my dear chibi! We have places to be, after all. We're only touring this building—it's too tedious to do all of them and you aren't nearly worth the effort—but that doesn't mean we have time to waste." Dazai quickly turned on his heel, waving an idle hand as he began wandering back toward the staircase. "Don't be left behind; I'm sure those short legs of yours can keep up if you work hard enough."