Figments of Beauty

VII

Early October, 2012

For the month since Mori had assigned him and Dazai the anniversary shoot, Chuuya hadn't had a single break. The morning was spent in instruction with Kouyou, then he had fitting appointments with Gin and Tachihara, and after lunch, he worked with Dazai both in personal training and for the shoot. Chuuya found himself enjoying the work, though, to the surprise of both himself and his coworkers. He liked to be kept busy and being able to meet so many new people all the time was exhilarating, if not tiring sometimes. He was quickly getting used to the pressure and long weekdays, and it helped that he had a mentor to lean on sometimes.

Spending so much time with Kouyou has been what Chuuya might call an 'enlightening experience.' It meant early mornings every day (including weekends) and sitting through enough lectures to last a lifetime, and Kouyou wasn't what he would call merciful. But she was kind in her own way and looked out for him, something Chuuya was grateful for and especially when he was surrounded by people like Dazai.

Dazai. Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy sent straight from hell to torture him until his hair started falling out. Those were the thoughts that ran through Chuuya's head as he walked into that dreaded shooting studio every afternoon and spent the next three hours being poked and prodded as Dazai pointed out every single thing he did wrong, every way he looked like an idiot, every way he'd fail in the industry.

The worst part, though, was that Dazai was an effective teacher. Even Kouyou had mentioned that he was improving much more quickly than anticipated, though most of that could likely be attributed to her own mentoring. Dazai was efficient, and he knew how to apply his own experience to something Chuuya could use, and he knew Chuuya. It was frightening, sometimes, when Dazai would say something that just made sense, that Chuuya knew would only make sense to him.

Chuuya hadn't run into him in the middle of the night again, but he thought about that encounter often when they were meeting at coffee shops or design studios in the company buildings. Nightmares. Dazai had a haunted look about him, oftentimes, and now Chuuya wondered what exactly might be haunting him. There was a tentative understanding between them, now—common ground, where there was none before. What a strange notion.

This was the tangle of thoughts running around in Chuuya's head as he opened the door to the familiar shooting studio, tossing his bag onto the floor and pulling a hair tie off of his wrist. "Alright mackerel, what new shit did you—"

He cut himself off when he noticed the other person in the room.

"Hey, Nakahara. Long time no see." Oda smiled, waving a lazy hand from where he stood with Dazai in the middle of the room, huddled together before Chuuya interrupted them. He looked wearier than the last time he'd seen him—his beard looked scragglier, his eye bags darker.

Chuuya smiled. "Yeah, hey Oda. Been a while." Usually, it was just Dazai and Chuuya in the studio (insulting each other, usually). No cameras, no fancy lighting tools, no hair or makeup. Why that was changing now, Chuuya was hesitant to know as he noticed that Oda indeed had his camera on him, with the lens cap off. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"The training wheels are coming off! You're going to practice in front of a camera," Dazai answered, all smiles and sing-song as he watched Chuuya with a scrutinizing eye. "Odasaku's going to be the photographer."

Chuuya narrowed his eyes. "You said I wasn't going to be camera-ready for at least another week."

"Plans changed," Dazai hummed. "Boss is getting impatient and you picked this up quicker than I expected," he added, shrugging.

Chuuya arched a brow, grin spreading across his face. "Oh? The great Dazai Osamu made a miscalculation?" Despite any strange midnight rendezvouses, falling into their usual banter was an easy, comfortable drop.