cleo

“…absolutely not.”

another tug.

dazai looks down cautiously.

nothing.

just dark blue water stretching endlessly beneath him.

then, a face suddenly appears beside the board.

dazai yelps so loudly he nearly falls off.

you blink up at him curiously, water dripping from your hair while your hands rest against the edge of the surfboard. your eyes immediately move toward his legs.

then back to his face.

then back to his legs again.

“…hi?” dazai says weakly.

you poke his calf.

he stares.

you poke it again.

“…are you inspecting me?”

your expression turns deeply serious as you gently squeeze his ankle like you’re trying to understand how human legs function.

dazai bursts out laughing, and that’s how it starts.

after that, he keeps returning to the same stretch of ocean every morning.

just in case.

sometimes you appear immediately.

sometimes he waits hours drifting lazily across the water before seeing your tail flash beneath the waves.

but eventually, you always come.

you never speak at first.

just swim around him curiously while he talks endlessly anyway.

“you know,” dazai says one afternoon while laying across his board, “most people introduce themselves before grabbing strangers’ feet.”

you surface beside him instantly.

then grab his foot underwater again.

“…rude,” he sighs dramatically.

you grin before disappearing beneath the water.

a few seconds later, something lands in his lap.

a seashell. small. bright blue.

perfectly polished.

dazai blinks down at it.

then toward where you resurface nearby, watching him carefully.

“…for me?”

you nod once.

something unexpectedly warm settles in his chest.

after that, you start bringing him gifts constantly.

smooth sea glass.

tiny pearls.

pretty shells.

once, even a starfish you proudly held up before dazai gently convinced you it should probably stay alive.

he starts bringing you things too.

hair clips.

shiny bracelets.

little trinkets he finds in beach shops.

your favorite becomes a blue ribbon.

you spend nearly twenty minutes letting him tie it carefully into your hair while floating beside his surfboard.

his fingers brush your skin gently.

carefully.

like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he moves too fast.

“pretty,” you whisper softly.

dazai smiles.

not one of his fake smiles.

a real one.

small and warm.

“…yeah,” he says quietly. “you are.”

eventually, you start talking more.

asking questions about humans.

about land.

about him.

“why do humans surf?” you ask while resting your chin against his board.

dazai hums thoughtfully. “because the ocean is prettier up close.”

you blink at him.

then smile slowly.

and dazai suddenly forgets how breathing works.

he starts staying longer and longer each day.

sometimes until sunset paints the ocean gold.

sometimes until stars appear overhead.

you swim around him while glowing plankton spark beneath the waves, your laughter mixing with the sound of the sea.

and somewhere along the way, dazai falls in love with you.

completely. hopelessly.

“come with me.”

the words slip out one evening before he can stop them.

you still beside his surfboard immediately.

“…land?”

“yeah.”

your expression changes instantly.

sadness. hesitation.

you lower yourself slightly deeper into the water.

“…can’t.”

dazai’s chest aches unexpectedly at how small your voice sounds.

“oh.”

you reach for his hand gently.

cold seawater dripping from your fingertips.

dazai squeezes your hand back immediately.

“then i’ll stay here with you as long as i can.”

your eyes widen slightly.

“…really?”

“really.”

and for the first time since meeting you, he watches you cry.

tiny glowing tears disappearing into seawater beneath moonlight.

three days later, a storm hits.

the ocean becomes violent.

waves crashing too dangerously for anyone to surf.

dazai waits anyway.

sitting on the shore in the rain for hours staring at the water.

but you never come.

the next morning, he returns again.

and again.

and again.

no tail.

no laughter.

no gifts left waiting in the tide.

nothing.

by the fifth day, his chest physically hurts from missing you.

still, he goes back to the ocean.

because maybe today: “dazai!”

he freezes.

that voice, he turns sharply toward the shore, and nearly stops breathing.

you’re running toward him across the sand.

human legs stumbling slightly beneath you.

your hair wild from the wind.

wearing oversized clothes that clearly don’t belong to you.

beautiful, completely beautiful.

dazai just stares.

“…what.”

you crash into him before he can process anything, arms wrapping tightly around his neck while you nearly laugh and cry at the same time.

“i wanted to stay with you,” you say breathlessly.

dazai’s hands grip your waist instantly like he’s terrified you’ll vanish again.

“…your legs,” he says dumbly.

you grin brightly through teary eyes. “they work now.”

he laughs once in complete disbelief before pulling you impossibly closer.

“you scared the hell out of me.”

“sorry.”

“five days,” he groans dramatically, pressing his forehead against yours. “i almost drowned emotionally.”

you laugh softly.

and dazai kisses you before you can answer.

warm. desperate.

salt air between both of you.

his hands shaking slightly against your waist from relief alone.

when he finally pulls back, he looks at you carefully.

softly.

completely gone for you.

“…so,” he murmurs, stealing another quick kiss, “can i keep you now?”

you smile.

“only if you take me surfing.”

𓇼 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐕𝐓 | event m.list • taglist • rules

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father had left after twenty minutes, which passed by too slowly for you who watched him talk with dazai with a longing that has been there since your childhood. you listened carefully to how dazai answered, the way he sat, the tone he spoke in and how many seconds he took to answer.

father looked like he enjoyed talking to dazai and that should have been enough to make you happy that he's getting along with the guy you have feelings for but you were too busy repeating your own short replies to him and comparing them to dazai's, counting the differences the moment you do so.

you observed dazai and you will do your best to mimic him the next time you get to talk to father.

currently, a ball of wires which has been tangled together to form a ball remains in your throat and burns it as you realise and remember how rude and cruel you've been to poor father who must have already been so overworked and exhausted. not to mention he came to your apartment for the first time since you hung up on him that day in anger. he had put in effort to come here and you dismissed them in your petty anger.

will it always be like this? will you always wish for him to push only to pull the moment he does?

dazai watches you from his place on the couch and the quiet sorrow that hangs from your movements as you take your clothes out of your bag to wash them doesn't escape him.

your movements are sluggish and lagging as you plop the clothes in your small laundry basket, as if you are no human but a robot made to mimic them and have been turned on after a long while.

it's . . not a good look on you. he doesn't like to see you this way — so void of life but at the same time, dazai is aware that this might be the rawest version of you.

this makes him feel unsettled. as if the realisation that he doesn't know you entirely is something perilous.

"where . . .?" dazai trails off but you understand his question very well and this makes you halt the movement of your hand from opening the door to leave the apartment.

looking over your shoulder, you aren't sure if you offer him a smile or is it more of a grimace but you offer him the answer quietly along with it, "laundry room. it's in the basement."

watching dazai stand up from the couch with a detached curiosity, it clicks into your mind the moment he begins to walk towards you that he wants to accompany you, the reason behind so remains a mystery to you.

"you don't have to —"

"but i want to," he cuts you off as he takes the laundry basket from your hands and opens the door, walking ahead as if he has been doing this hundreds of times.

as if this isn't his first time at your place.

"you know where the basement is?" you ask, tilting your head as you walk beside him, blinking when he glances at you with raised eyebrows.

"usually anyone can find a basement." he says as if this is the most obvious thing and it might be but you aren't sure since your mind is somewhat hazy and lagging.

you can't even register the floor beneath you because every third step it feels as if you are floating on something squishy.

"ah, i guess so?" you shrug.

you blink in confusion again when dazai turns slightly to offer you his hand after he steps down the first step.

"chivalry isn't dead?" you try to joke but he shakes his head, a smile on his lips which doesn't match the intensity shining in his eyes.

"look at yourself, cherie. you look like you'll sink to your knees at any moment. i don't want you to hurt yourself in my presence." because it will make me realise how much you being in pain affects me and that will break the illusion i am living in. don't get hurt in front of me so i won't have to face the side of me which i am trying to convince myself doesn't exist.

his voice is serious yet the smile is still on his face and perhaps it's the only thing that's stopping you, already tired from father's visit, from believing that he is being playful and that there isn't any deeper meaning to it.

you place your hand on top of his, letting him slowly guide you and ground you to reality.

"if . . you know, if you feel bad it's probably self projection or something." you blurt out.

"what if it's genuine care on my part?" he quietly asks.

"yeah, it can be that too." you quietly chuckle because you are holding yourself back from outright rejecting this absurd claim of him caring about you. it's probably him feeling guilty or something.

dazai's hold on your hand tightens as you take the last step down the staircase and stand in front of a single, run down, wooden door which could break if a wind blows by a little strongly.

he doesn't let go of your hand as he uses his leg to push the door open, revealing a narrow, somewhat dark path as a lonely bulb is trying its best to light the way from its place in the middle of the hallway.

the light doesn't reach your feet but it's just a step away out of reach.

something about it makes you laugh — a short, surprised one.

dazai glances your way, eyebrows raised to ask what you find so funny about all this as he takes the first step ahead.

"you are the light bulb of my life," you begin, taking your first step ahead while he takes the second one and steps into the weak reflection of the light.

"do you see me as that weak or pathetic?" he tries to joke but it comes out softer because a part of him knows this is going to be another confession and he doesn't want to hear it but the other part of him wants to hear it to feed the hunger of his blackened heart.

you shake your head, taking your second step and entering the weak lightened path as you smile fondly, remembering that night which started it all.

"you seem to light up my life too even if you don't mean to. it's small things you do that shows me that light is just out of reach in my otherwise, darkened life," your smile turns softer and somewhat nostalgic and voice gets even more quieter with your next words while you squeeze his hand once to show how much you appreciate him, "i have never said it outright but thank you for reaching out to me that night. i think i just wanted someone to reach out and show that they care —"

"i do care for you." he interrupts quietly since there is this desperate urge in him to let you know of this.

you offer him a small smile, "it would've been fine even if you didn't. the action would've meant the same to me. thank you, dazai-san."

perhaps it's because you refer to him with such terms rarely or it's because the atmosphere is already serious because of your confession which confirms his fear that yes, had he not reached out then you wouldn't be walking next to him today.

dazai offers you a small smile back as you two approach the end of the hallway which seemed as if it might be too long but really isn't when you walk into it and there stands a lone door which you reach out for before he could, opening it with your free hand, steps a bit lighter yet more stronger then your previous ones.

you lead him inside the laundry room, clicking the lights on.

there are three washing machines in a row with dryers stacked on top of them.

"rent covers it?" dazai asks, trying to make small talk and to hide the way his hand goes limp when you take a step away from him, letting go of his hand to begin shuffling through your clothes.

"no. bill comes every other month. the landlord's daughter comes to collect it."

"is there a limit to how many times you can use the washing machines in a week?" he asks, fisting his hand which was previously holding your's and walks over to sit on the bench in the middle which creaks in surprise at his weight, probably because the tenants usually come and go once their clothes are washed. no one really lingers around here unless they have romantic company.

you look at him over your shoulder with a small smile, knelt in front of an open washing machine inside which you were stuffing your clothes in, "same price for every individual for each day. you pay for how many days you use the machines. it's a trust for trust system."

his elbows dig into his thighs as he leans on his hands and offers you a smirk, "and you didn't try to take advantage of it even once? there's no cctv cameras. how will the landlord know you visited or not? come at a time when no one is present to see you and you will earn yourself a free wash."

his smirk softens into a half smile at the sound of your laughter that flows through the space.

you shake your head, closing the lid and pressing the buttons as you stand up, brushing your thighs and the back of them as you lean against the washing machine and cross your arms.

"i think only you can pull this off. i would be too scared to do so and end up making some mistake which will give it away that it's me."

"i know," he quietly agrees, "if i don't help my girl out of all people then who will?" his words are softer than what you would like to hear from him because it moves your heart in a way which seems good only in your imagination on lonely days. in real life, it's more emotional than warm.

your throat begins to clog up again with that tangled ball of wires.

you are no different from sisyphus. if he has to carry a boulder up a hill and watch it tumble down again and again for eternity before he could reach the top to pay for his sins, then you pay for your sin by being affected again and again by these small actions of people. you let yourself be touched by someone who is probably just saying all this out of formality or so he could look at himself in the mirror tomorrow knowing he is a 'good person'.

it’s ignorant to label dazai as one but this is your defence mechanism speaking, it will push people away before they can pull back themselves again and again.

"let's save some of your money next weekend, hm?" dazai's voice is like a thread. a red one so it's easily visible to you even if you are far away. this thread wraps itself around your pinky finger and pulls you out of the pit of your thoughts but it's wrapped lightly so you could pull your hand and snap it if you ever want to.

dazai offers help but you need to have the mentality which wants to be saved and work for it or else it's of no use.

"are you indirectly letting me know you'll stay over?" you blurt out but you weren't supposed to because this was supposed to be your internal observation or a joke to break the train of your thoughts because they are getting a bit too personal and rosy again, painting dazai in a good light.

but now your joke is out in the open and for some reason, you don't trip over your words to explain yourself or make this situation right. you just shrug with a small smile.

dazai blinks then stands up, approaching you in three quick strides as he hums, "you won't kick me out, right?"

the air shifts. he feels it as so do you. it's charging with something you can't put a name to.

"such a foolish thing to say." you mumble under your breath because you can't think of a single possibility where you will turn dazai away from your doorsteps.

since you are leaning against the machine, he ends up towering over you and oh, you gulp. this position is very intimate to you for some reason. it's as if he is blocking the room away so your focus wouldn't waver away from him. if you delude yourself enough, you can almost imagine that he is demanding you pay attention to him and no one else.

but how could this be the case, right? dazai osamu is used to the attention of many so the attention from a single individual will probably not satisfy the hunger of his rotten and barely beating heart.

looking up at him, you are probably not aware of how quickly dazai's breath hitches at the sight of your eyes shining with an intensity he isn't a stranger too but not quite familiar with as well for he has always looked away quickly when you pin him down with this exact stare.

something uncomfortable pricks at his skin as a stray thought enters his brain and makes the observation that he hasn't really seen you look at someone else with this stare. so what if one day, the subject this gaze is directed to changes from him to someone else?

his heart glances at the pit of his stomach and wonders how painful the fall will be but it's sure the fall will be far more merciful than the ache you will bring, if you ever do decide that he isn't worth the time and someone better than him exists for you.

he isn't denying these words. he had looked at chuuya many times and thought he would be a better partner for you and would look away just as quickly, the words "as if", hanging at the tip of his tongue because the thought would disappear as quickly as it would appear. quite arrogantly so and the arrogance comes from the knowledge of knowing that even if the most perfect man was to stand in front of you, you would barely offer him a short, fleeting glance before focusing on him with fondness dripping from your eyes.

oh, how this thought had always and still continues to warm him. he is filled with gratitude and a certain softness whenever he realises this. the dry skin on the surface of his heart seems to chip away to let the more sensitive and moist one finally breathe.

"when have i ever kicked you out, hm dazai?" you ask and dazai thinks you are dangerous and you will be the death of him.

he shudders as his name leaves your mouth and this along with his previous softness for you seems to overpower his fear and rationality.

lifting his bandages hand up to cup your cheeks, dazai swears he just wanted to touch and perhaps caress your skin to make you just as affected as he feels at this moment.

but you lean just a bit into his touch and oh, oh Eros, damn you, for dazai osamu comes undone at the sight of your blind trust and comfortability around him.

thump, thump, thump!

he leans forwards too in a quick flash and presses his lips against yours for a quick peck. he pulls back just as quickly as he leaned in and sees your eyes are wide now just like his.

you can still feel the slightest brush of his somewhat dry lips against yours. blood rushes to your neck and ears as you stare at him, waiting for an explanation while ignoring the way fireworks seem to burst inside your body. your hands at your side twitch once, twice.

perhaps a minute passes by as you two stare at each other in surprise and then, you lift your hand to wrap it around his wrist and squeeze it in comfort.

"just wanted to," he breathes out as soon as you do so as if he has been waiting for a sign to know you aren't angry at his sudden move while trying to pull his hands back to create distance between you two, his apology tumbling out of him in the form of a gasp as if he still can't wrap his head around his impulsive action, "i am sorry —"

"won't you kiss me properly?" your words cut his apology off and he blinks, mindlessly looking down at your hand squeezing his wrist.

you don't hate it, good. you don't hate him.

the thought itself is too heavy to even ponder on.

his grip on your face tightens and he could feel the curve of your jaw against his palms now and could even see you gulp down in anticipation.

this time, you close your eyes before he even leans in and dazai pauses just as his lips are about to touch yours to notice every delicate eyelash clinging to your eyelid and if there are any marks or blemishes on your skin which he could see only now because the current moment is the one in which he is really looking at you with an intensity he never harbored before.

his gaze falls down to your lips and he breathes out to watch it fall against your lips which make them twitch. you part your lips slightly and then close them quickly, probably about to open your eyes and look at him with confusion so before that could happen, dazai tilts his head and presses his lips on top of yours.

yuto nakayama doesn't come by to visit you tonight for he had seen dazai enter your apartment with a bag on his shoulders from the balcony just as he gets out of his car.

he sees the way dazai stops midway and turns around to walk towards the balcony to stare down at him. the latter tilts his head, eyes void of any emotions as he leans his upper body on top of his crossed arms which rests on the railings and at this moment it doesn't matter if yuto had seen this look on dazai's face many times before because he reacts the same way he always does when he realises he is the object of attention for this void stare — a chill runs down the length of his spinal cord while every conscious thought of his repeats the same thing, to run away as far as he could.

yuto closes his eyes as he chuckles to shrug off his nerves and shakes his head, turning on his heels to enter his car again while pretending as if dazai's eyes aren't boring holes in his back and then poking at the wounds to increase the flow of the blood infused with fear which is dripping out.

dazai osamu : do you regret the kiss?

this isn't a text you were expecting to see a week after the kiss happened.

blinking, you drop the pen you were holding on top of your opened notebook and grab your phone which had been laying on the table screen side up, thinking of a reply as you punch in your pincode to unlock the phone.

exams have and are approaching with many of them falling in the same week which resulted in you being holed up in the university library for most of the days and kind of isolating yourself from everyone like you always do.

everyone except dazai osamu because he keeps on showing up in small ways. most of them are to make sure yuto can't find an opening when you are alone to come and strike up a conversation with you.

you even remember the exact words he used to justify his actions, "ma cherie, you are numb to it. insensitive even but at face value. your mind will not think much of it but your nervous system will. whenever yuto will approach you and make small conversations, ones which seem harmless at first will end up torturing your body. your nervous system won't be as nonchalant as your brain and it will show you the signs of this disturbance when you are about to give an important exam which your mind deems important. isn't it poetic? the events your mind will think of as unworthy will end up ruining the ones deemed as important."

me : don't you think it's late to ask that now?

immediately, he replies.

dazai osamu : 🥺🥺 God forbid a man wants reassurance from his woman.

me : don't pmo during exam season. i am js one reason away from breaking down.

dazai osamu : say the word and daddy dazai will come to protect you from your tensions.

me : 😭 stop pmo dude. i am gonna block you.

dazai osamu : ngh nearly came. be more mean to me.

me : 😟✌🏻.

"you are smiling alot." the simple comment bothers you more than it should have.

immediately, you look up at jun who sits on the chair opposite of you, a small smile on his face. he is the only one apart from dazai who you couldn't bring yourself to be away from.

it's because he is a good friend, you would say to yourself on a good day but on nights where you are exhausted and your brain is fried after your intense study sessions and yuto's relentless 'persuasion', you cannot lie to yourself out of all people — jun is a substitute for hyun.

a faint black mist travels down your mouth towards your esophagus, leaving a dry feeling where it hurts to even gulp down your saliva. it then moves to your stomach. the black mist-like feeling is carved out of dread and as it exits to enter the small intestine, your stomach clenches around itself. it's as if your entire digestive system is trying to tell you that something will go south very quickly.

"dazai is bothering me." you offer an explanation which makes jun's eyes crinkle more in glee. this makes you wonder what he thinks of dazai considering he used to be yuto's best buddy at one time.

"guess he doesn't know how scary you are yet." he jokes and you widen your eyes in mock offence but a smile makes its way on your lips too.

placing the phone on your lap, you purse your lips to not ask any unnecessary questions and you look down at your book to try to move your mind to the right track and resume studying.

you have to be honest with yourself, of all people. you can't go on like this, pretending the pills of lies you swallow are the truth.

truth is, you confessed to dazai osamu that night to get rejected so you could hold something to hate dazai for because the reason you have been reusing till now — that he's the reason why you got dragged into this yuto mess — has always been weak. you didn't really believe it but it was just an outlet to let out your frustrations at the moment.

clawing at your thigh, you quietly look up to see jun scratching above his eyebrow with his index finger as he intensely focuses on the laptop screen in front of him which is probably displaying his study material. his eyes don't waver to his surroundings and remain fixated on the screen, you note to try to tell yourself that he's busy and you shouldn't bother him.

ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him.

your mind chants against your ears, striking down a metal hammer against your eardrums with every chant. the more you try to pretend to be deaf to these chants, the louder they get till a hot, almost burning, kind of feeling rushes through the tip of your toes to your brain.

". . hey?" you call out nervously amidst the torture your mind is inflicting on you.

jun immediately looks up, a small smile on his face since he smiles alot. he's good and happy natured. perhaps this is why you do not feel the urge to never see his face again unlike others. there's this positivity around him which touches even your wretched heart and makes you hope.

then why don't you feel the same around yui? is it because in the way you blame dazai, you blame her too?

indeed, it's that.

"what do you think about dazai?" you quietly tap at your phone screen while you ask so, to divert your nervousness towards something else so it won't show on your face. your hand is hidden by the table between you and so is your nervousness.

"this is sudden," jun chuckles and then his smile slowly disappears just as your heart skips a beat.

yeah, all bullshit aside.

this is why you still hang around with jun because this face he is making right now is one you've seen on yourself many times. this face tells you that his happy - go - lucky persona came to him after years of suffering. he isn't sunshines and rainbows at all. he manipulates the fire inside him to appear as sunshine to whoever looks at him.

the hope you get when you are around him? it's because of this. if he can be so positive despite whatever it is that he has gone through then perhaps there's a chance for you too?

"you just have a knack for attracting the worst guys, don't you?" jun chuckles again but it's more restricted, more suffocated as if he's holding back on so many emotions. he raises his hands to rub his face, still chuckling quietly but you see the slightest twitch of his fingers and how hard he digs his fingerpads onto his skin.

"be it dazai osamu or yuto nakayama — they are both the worst kind of dogs. nakayama relishes on power and intimidation but dazai does so on excruciating mental battles which feels like torture. why do you like him?" he genuinely looks lost as he asks you this and then quickly shakes his head, he doesn't want to know the reason, "dazai osamu? he's the type of guy you shouldn't turn to even when the entire world is against you. he's a demon with the face of an angel, you know? everything he does is for his own gain — that guy is nuts, i tell you. who the fuck actively tries to kill themselves and ask women to commit a lover's suicide with them?”

jun doesn't notice how you stiffen at the mention of this. you can feel your heart in your throat, wishing to leap out to escape the painful memories this one sentence can make you remember but like always, your subconscious pushes it down deep in your mind, leaving only a slight itch and the feeling of there being something you know but can't remember right now.

this is your defence mechanism as the memories and feelings are too strong for you to carry in a sane state. perhaps you would be indifferent to and talk about them if you were to be in a high fever or something similar to it. but you aren't in either of those conditions right now and trying to force yourself to remember them will just shatter you more.

you will keep on pushing down at these memories which tries to push the lid away and escape the bottom your mind has trapped them in, until one day, the lid will loosen itself to let them out when you least expect it, too caught up in many other thoughts as well, your brain won't even notice these memories slipping past until they appear infront of your eyes.

“he's not a good guy. haven't you heard his womanizing ways — ah, fuckkkkk. this is driving me nuts, you know?" his voice cracks as he says the last sentence and doesn't speak for a while.

a daunting kind of silence which doesn't really exist between you and jun usually, takes over and your finger begins to tap at the phone screen quickly to the point you are beginning to fear that he can hear it too.

jun looks at you again with a pleading look in his eyes and offers you his hand which you look at for five seconds, then ten, before you raise your free hand to place it on top of his, letting him hold your hand.

he squeezes it once before continuing in a much calmer voice compared to before, "i think he is a bad guy, along with many others — he is the child of a charnel house,"

oh. okay.

jun's words hangs in the space between you two like the cracks between a painted wall. you do not let your eyes waver away from his for even a second because that would mean submission, an expression of cowardice and of your resolutions — in this case, your opinions — shaking.

jun doesn't falter but continues, "sure, he is charming and smart but every harmful thing is appealing in one way or the other, do you understand? why let yourself be the victim of impending sorrow by being around a guy like him?"

"he isn't that bad," you weakly defend though your voice comes out choked as you are fighting through hundreds of thoughts, having a hard time in deciding what to speak first and what not to in case it ends up revealing more then what you want to about you, "i know of his flirty nature, jun but he hasn't done any of that in front of me —"

"that's because you do not hang around him when he's with others, do you?" jun cuts you off and this time, you squeeze your interlocked hands as you tilt your head, eyes softening in a way to express your dissatisfaction at how easily he countered your measly defence.

"you only seem to — no, you prefer to spend time with him when no one else is around. i wonder why? is it because you know it too? that he isn't someone you should be around? just like nakayama?"

"i do not care about his suicidal tendencies —" you begin in a level headed voice, deciding to answer every question one by one and truthfully yet as vaguely as you could and your eyes immediately lower to stare at the table surface because you do not want to see how jun will react, it'll just haunt you later when you sit all alone in your bedroom and dread going to the bathroom for you'll see the bathtub there and it will turn your tongue bitter, "— actually, i don't even really notice them anymore since he just occasionally mentions them to me, you know the meaningless 'this was a method used in ancient china' or 'that was a method used in ancient japan', all that stuff. it doesn't really mean anything."

"he is actively trying to kill himself and you are ignoring it." jun says and offers you a sad smile as he sees it, so do you — the light from the ceiling seems to especially shine down on you and put you in the spotlight.

hypocrite.

the reason why you claim to feel so hurt and betrayed by hyun is because you deem him an hypocrite but you are one too and jun seems to think so as well so what half assed reason will your mind come up with now to try to defend yourself and seem as if you aren't at fault at all?

"jun, he's convinced he wants to kill himself," you slowly begin as the gears in your mind rotate at an impressive speed while dopamine is produced because you have come up with reason after reasons to defend yourself — be it the truth or lie.

slowly, you look up at jun and you want to hate yourself for feeling like smiling in victory, "will anything i do or say even have an effect? i am just afraid of him growing annoyed and distancing himself from me."

lie and then truth.

so the truth basically cancels out the lie, right?

the truth is, you have stood at the face of death and taken a step back from it so dazai wanting to kill himself isn't absurd to you at all and rather something you sympathize with. you understand he must have his reasons which he isn't willing to share with anyone and that's fine with you since you haven't really shared everything about yourself with him either.

you don't want him to kill himself but that's not your decision to make. it's his. you were influenced by him but the decision to not die was your own in the end — you realised this just a few nights ago.

no one has as much power over your mind like you do. people can only influence or be catalysts but the decision is yours to make in the end.

"he is your boyfriend, he won't distance himself from you —"

"love isn't guaranteed. if couples who had been married for more then thirty years can end up with a divorce then who are me and dazai? we have been in a relationship for barely a month." you shake your head with a weak smile wobbling on your lips. wobbling in the sense that you are afraid — what's the truth anymore?

you aren't sure. you really do not believe your reasons either. you are just a hypocrite in the end.

a fucking hypocrite, that's what you are.

your phone vibrates again and on instinct your eyes fall on it to find some sort of distraction from this tense conversation.

dazai osamu : if my professor doesn't stop talking and doesn't dismiss me in the next five minutes, i will slam my head hard against the cold glass surface of his table till my forehead is shattered and i die.

thump, thump.

oh. jun is wrong, you think, it isn't fair. he's only mentioning the bad traits of dazai and not the good ones.

he's your light bulb.

"i really like dazai. maybe it's because of his looks or whatever —" you begin again in a weak, almost wavering tone as this conversation is weighing down on you physically.

you aren't sure what's the truth and what's the lie anymore because while trying to convince jun, you are also trying to convince yourself to protect your mind from turning frantic and wondering about your actions.

shoulders slumping, you lean back against the chair as you continue to stare at dazai's message while your lips move on their own and words flow out freely yet tiredly as if your tongue is tired of holding itself, tired of watching and weighing every word before letting it out of your mouth, "— but recently he said some stuff to me which touched my heart greatly. he has been there for me in his own way so i don't care about anything else — jun," you look up to stare at the man from across you.

"dazai can come to me with his hands stained with someone else's blood and my first concern will be to make sure he's fine. i . . am not sure if i would've felt this way a few months back but i do so now. he has seen my ugliest parts and still smiled at me, he changed his habits for me —" like giving you a different nickname because you didn't want to be called belladonna. whatever the context and all may be, it doesn't change the fact that he changed it for you. sure, the nickname wasn't given with you in mind but the change came after you expressed your displeasure over it.

that's kindness in your eyes.

"he is nice to me, jun. nicer then anyone has been in the past few months – and i don't mean to offend you or anyone else when i tell this. he doesn't pity me but tries to understand me. he helps and reaches out but knows when to give me space —" like that time at the party where he knew something was wrong with you but didn't pry too much once you made it clear that you won't talk about it with him of all people. he didn't push you to open up but made sure you remain within his vicinity.

me : no, don't kys. you are too sexy hahaha.

you quickly type and send it to him as a small smile, less exhausted and more natural, takes over your lips as you decide to take a deep dive inside the ocean of flaws. the one where jun has probably seen dazai in many times.

looking at jun again, you continue, "dazai is suicidal, yes, but i actively distance myself from my friends when i feel like a burden and don't bother talking about my feelings with them. dazai is flirty by nature but i am rude and not a pleasant person to be around."

"don't say that —" jun tries to stop you from berating yourself but you shake your head to ask him to stop so you can continue.

"he's a bad guy but i am even worse. why do you hang around me, jun? isn't this the same as me being with dazai? you know what they are saying about me, don't you?" you pause to take a deep breath and pretend as if this all isn't killing you. you tighten the knots of your mask of nonchalance, "even the professors prefer to avoid me. so, why don't you? i am not good company to be around. i am afraid i will just drag you down too —"

"don't be ridiculous. those are just baseless rumours that idiots are spreading and believing. i know who you are so don't you dare sit here and pretend as if you know what's right for me and what's not. you aren't as bad as you make yourself out to be, i don't get why you think that about yourself. you are one of the best people i have ever met — have some mercy and go easy on yourself." jun nearly pleads as he hears you talk about yourself this way with such calmness, having paid only half a mind to whatever it is you were telling about dazai because he doesn't matter as much as seeing his best friend refer to herself in the same way he had punched countless idiots for doing so.

your heart squeezes in your chest and something uncomfortable spreads across your rib cage at his words, at his blatant trust in you — trust which you do not have in yourself. emotions of gratitude and exhaustion rush at a great speed towards your eyes and stay there in the form of a shiny layer of tears which you try to get rid of by blinking. you don't want to cry now.

not infront of jun. not infront of everyone in the library.

you raise your other hand to place it on top of your interlaced hands and squeeze it once, clearing your throat to let the emotions choking your throat know to make space so your voice could reach your mouth from your voicebox.

"then please have some mercy and go easy on dazai too. please? he isn't as bad as everyone makes him out to be."

"i have no problem with him personally," jun softly calls your name on seeing the way you clench your jaw to hold back emotions.

he places his other hand on top of yours and squeezes back to reassure you, "i just care about you — we all do, especially hyun. if dazai is a good person in your opinion then he is a good person in my eyes too, okay? i owe him one anyway for being with you."

his eyes lower to stare at your interlaced hands, "do you think none of us have noticed how lifeless you looked? give us more credit, we are your friends after all. we care about you more than you think we do. let us in too sometimes, okay? i don't know what you've been through and what you are going through but i will sit here and listen quietly if you want to share it with me. if not then that's fine too. just . . don't go too far away — don't go far from our reach. that's my only request."

your head lowers since you immediately understood his implications and it makes you wonder if you are that obvious. you feel naked and vulnerable so looking down is your way of protecting yourself.

staring at your phone which turns bright to show you dazai has sent you messages with a blurry vision, you purse your lips to muffle the sob that tried to leave, clenching your jaw tightly afterwards to make sure no other sound leaves your mouth.

jun doesn't speak but he tightens his grip on your hands, tilting his own head down as he closes his eyes which too, are filled with a violent storm of emotions.

the house, which has been empty and dark for months, finally experiences its second visitor (dazai being the first one). if dazai came inside the house and turned the lights on then jun stepped inside and tried to clean away the heavy and thick layers of dust, cobwebs and dirt.

alas it's still dirty, but still cleaner than before.

five minutes later, you whisper out in a trembling voice because your throat feels like it's burning, as if you swallowed some sort of harmful chemical.

"do you think i should talk to hyun?"

"that's your decision. if you want to, i am here to support you and if you don't want to? that's fine too. it's your decision if you want to resurrect your friendship or hear some kind of closure for it."

you nod, still staring down, still clenching your jaw tightly even if your teeth are tightly grinding against each other.

three more minutes pass before you take a deep breath and open your eyes — somewhat red yet devoid of tears now, pulling your hands back from jun's as you begin to grab your stuff to leave.

"thank you so much," you tell him in passing as you stand up, offering him a weak smile, "i mean it. i will try to be better now. thank you for not giving up on me."

"hear yourself. why will i — we, ever give up on you, hm? if you are trying to act cute by making such confessions then it isn't working. you have to be cute first for that." he doesn't let the atmosphere be tense anymore and makes sure that by joking, the air around you will relax since jun knows you don't speak with such vulnerability usually. it doesn't come easy to you to talk about yourself.

"you are so annoying." you giggle quietly behind your palm as you walk past him, lightly hitting him against the back of his head, "later, asshole."

"later, you pain in the ass."

you note the softness in his voice along with something fragile but you leave quickly before your brain can convince you to look back at him to see what expression he has on. your heart knows it already, he's probably trying to hold back emotions since it's been too long ever since the last time you joked around with him or any of them like this.

they have all noticed your stiffness around them the past few months but no one really spoke about it. probably because they felt guilty.

unlocking your phone as you leave the library to see dazai's messages, you don't really notice how light your steps are now compared to before. it's as if someone has loosened the chains around your legs which are connected to metallic spheres.

dazai osamu : die with me then so i won't die alone. we can die sexily if you want.

dazai osamu : oh, no reply? 💔 k I js KNOW you hate my guts and you want me dead.

dazai osamu : ik you will probably roll your eyes and walk past me if you see my unconscious and bloodied body on a street somewhere, leaving me to bleed myself to death.

dazai osamu : js know that i am risking my life here by texting you in between lectures, waiting patiently for your replies all just to get ignored. so cold, wow.

me : i was busy?? 😭😭

dazai osamu : k.

a chuckle leaves your lips as you immediately type back your reply, taking a turn to walk towards the staircase which will lead you to the ground floor.

me : oh no, are you angry? :((

me : such tragedy.

dazai osamu : hmm.

me : 😭😭 lmao fine, i am sooo sorry for being busy and not replying to you asap, your highness.

dazai osamu : if you are truly sorry then prove it by drowning with me.

me : bet.

dazai osamu : 🤰🤰 js got pregnant btw.

me : 😭😭🙏🏻 weirdo lmaoo.

dazai osamu : 💔💔 #ihatemybf final boss.

me : but i literally love you? 🥀

dazai osamu : when will you leave btw?

me : rn.

me : was gonna ask you that too. when will your lec end?

me : want your advice on smthg.

dazai osamu : in five mins. show me chivalry isn't dead by coming to my class to pick me up with a bouquet of red roses and your pretty self waiting for me.

me : i was otw loll minus the roses.

dazai osamu : gigging and kicking my legs in the air, tee hee.

passing through the male restrooms should've been easy and not worth mentioning as you pass by them many times on a single day without batting an eye since they are part of the norm by now (for they are on the way to the stairs along with other class rooms and so on),

except this time, someone walks out and your feet stop moving on their own as if the chains connected to the metal spheres suddenly decided you have too much freedom and tightened themselves around your ankle.

"yuto?" you call out before you could even realise, old habits getting the best of you as you catch a glimpse of the cut by his lips. it's small but extremely out of place — scars, bruises and blemishes have no right to exist on yuto's face which could be on every single billboard of the country.

he looks like he could walk into the set of any photo shoot and demand them to take his photos and use them instead of whatever model they were going for and the staff members would probably be convinced to abandon their well thought out plan if they get a good look at yuto's face.

the man had been looking down, adjusting the sleeves of his beige button down shirt but the moment his name leaves your mouth, his head snaps up in a way which makes you worry that he might have snapped his neck or some bone.

something slithers inside of your stomach but you can't identify what it is.

yuto breathes out your name as if he can't believe you are here and attempting to speak to him — which, in his defense, is valid.

you wouldn't have talked to him and probably would have increased your pace to avoid even looking at him had you not spotted the cut which prompts you to ask, "what are you getting yourself into?"

you aren't sure why you are asking this or why do you even seem to care, considering your last conversation with ango where you had bluntly stated you wanted to ruin yuto's public reputation.

you still do. there's anger lingering underneath every worried thought.

but some part of you still cares about him and as confusing as it is to explain this to yourself, you still come to a conclusion —expressing or speaking about something is one thing but actually executing them is another. especially when you are underprepared and already bothered by the uproar your emotions and thoughts are causing inside you.

yuto calls your name again but you cut him off sternly as you make your mind that if he doesn't answer this time then you'll walk away like you originally should've, "what are you getting yourself into, yuto?"

sighing, yuto raises his hand to rub at the cut on his lips. to either make it worse so you would pay him more attention or perhaps out of nervousness. maybe it's both.

upon closer look, the cut doesn't look fresh so he must've had it for some time now.

"a man who is starved since childhood will have passion and drive as well as the fear to not sleep on an empty stomach again but it doesn't necessarily mean his offspring will share the same feelings. unless they go through what the man has, they won't get to experience the uncomfortable situations life has to offer, they might not even be aware of it. in such a situation, is the ignorant man at fault or the privileged yet useless offspring?" yuto asks in cryptic words which do not sound that unusual to you since you are used to him speaking in this way.

he had once mentioned in passing that he speaks in riddles and arrangements of random words whenever he wants to share something personal or something which shouldn't be spoken of lightly in public to ensure that any extra pair of ears won't understand the context behind his words.

you have no sympathy for yuto usually, but sometimes you do feel bad for him because what has happened to him that makes him unable to speak about his feelings normally?

you shrug, not offering an answer like usual and it's sad that even if you are this nonchalant and unresponsive, yuto still looks at you as if you are hiding the solution to all his problems inside your closed palms.

"why did you walk away from my life? all this was somewhat bearable when i had you by my side." yuto confesses. his words transitioning from soft and helpless to sharp and cutting as he runs a hand through his hair, looking at you with accusation dripping from his eyes.

"you were harassing me, yuto. why would i stay?" you tilt your head, frowning as you genuinely try to clear the livid thoughts swimming in your head to try to understand yuto's perspective.

"what?" yuto blinks, surprised before he chuckles and shrugs, looking at you as if you have grown a second head or like a sober person would at someone who is laying in the middle of the road after getting high, "can you prove it?"

"huh?"

"if i am harassing you," yuto speaks slowly as if he's talking to a kid or someone far below him intellectually, "then surely you must have some sort of evidence to back your claims right? or are you just trying to defame my name for some sort of petty revenge?"

rage shrieks besides both of your ears. it's holding your head in place with both of its burning hands and forcing you to hear its mocking shrieks which hits your eardrums again and again violently. you can't even begin to fathom what's happening inside your chest to cause this burning ache that you are feeling.

you want to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms till they bleed or perhaps you will just move past yuko to approach the nearest wall and slam your head against it multiple times till your forehead is bruised and bleeding and you feel like your thoughts have mashed with your brain matter to produce the juice which flows down your temples along with your blood.

you do nothing except taking a few short yet quick breaths.

then, you part your lips and your voice is terrifyingly calm as you speak, "herodotus of halicarnassus is equally admired and hated — some call him the father of history while others deem him a liar. what will your consciousness refer to you as at the end of the day, yuto? when you strip yourself of your masks and faces and are forced to look at your reflection in the mirror — will it call you a victim whose actions are justified by trauma or will you be called a liar pitying himself to justify your actions?"

"herodotus was called so or so because of the evidence he provided about the histories. evidence." he draws out the word to make it sound more mocking, widening his eyes for the extra effect, "it's very important to have proof or evidence if you are going to be hostile to someone and blame them. do you have it?"

you don't. he knows it.

however if you continue to speak in such a manner for any longer, he will surely have evidence against you. he might already be recording your conversation without your knowledge.

life is this way. more often than not, the victim has to take a step back and get on their knees to apologise for feeling pain for whatever the predator had inflicted on them. this is the privilege the predator gets if he has a good standing in society, if he belongs to a good reputed 'class'.

because he who has been born into luxury isn't thought of when one thinks of someone covered in blood — after all, he who has everything just at a finger's distance should probably have no need to go out of his way to step down from his high pedestal and step into the moist ground which clings to the flawless skin of his feet, he shouldn't be walking towards the decaying corpse of an animal which is lying just a few steps ahead. the animal is another human of a lower social standing because it's not as educated, cultured or sophisticated as he is so might as well strip its identity and call it an animal.

but he does walk towards it and he tilts his head down to analyze the corpse. same heart, same blood seeping out of the wound which caused its death but still, they aren't the same for the man, the true human is standing while it is laying dead.

so he crouches down and extends his hands to turn the corpse sideways which causes it's already spilling out heart to fall on the ground with a soft thud. he picks it up and blinks, then uses his entire strength to squeeze it and when the remaining blood spurts out of the organ and droplets falls on his face, he lets out a gleeful chortle.

when pleasure and luxury simply isn't enough, pain and sadism comes strutting in, promising a new world of pleasure which not every man can enter. depravity and heinousness are the pillars of this world which, to a simple man, would seem like the closest human equivalent to hell. or perhaps its hell itself. not to the man, to him — to them, many of his kind, it's heaven on earth.

a heaven where angels commit crimes for them and where there's no God to dictate over them. they are the God themselves.

". . . exam season must've been putting me on edge. i apologise." you bow your head a bit while promising yourself that one step back today will ensure you take three steps ahead in the near or distant future.

yuto's lips part but before he could even exhale the air from his lungs, you begin to walk away.

evidence? evidence? what evidence? they'll discard or destroy it. no one will care. proof. it's as good as having it as it is to not have it. framing yuto is the only way. people are hyenas and vultures, they won't care for my story as much as they'll care if they see yuto bleeding. they'll circle him like vultures like they did to me. then why is everyone asking me for evidence? does no one believe me? evidence, evidence, evidence. i fucking hate it. i despise it. why don't i have evidence? why am i so incompetent? i should kill myself. there's no hope if there's no evidence. why have i been so dumb? am i really just overreacting? am i misunderstanding yuto's kindness for something else? am i the bad guy? who is the bad guy? if i had evidence then i would've known —

thoughts come to a halt as the door of the class opens and students swarm out of it in pairs and groups mostly, hindering you from walking aimlessly. you stop in the middle as you try to peer inside the class for some reason, not even noticing the way people walk past you while eyeing you.

which professor was giving a lecture here? what subject? which class? which year?

you aren't even sure why you are suddenly so curious about it but there's a fog inside your brain which is slowing down your thought process. you blink but it feels as if even this involuntary action is lagging in some manner.

dazai steps out of the class with a guy who looks somewhat familiar as if you've seen him somewhere before in passing.

you want to just walk past them and forget you were ever going to ask dazai for advice regarding hyun. but your feet remain rooted to the spot as if the metal spheres have melted and merged with the floor.

dazai chuckles at something the guy says — the artificial kind, and turns his head to spot you.

you observe the way his eyebrows raise slightly as if he's surprised that you actually came here which, in your opinion, isn't something to be shocked over as you think you stay true to your words and promises despite being a hypocrite.

thump, thump, thump!

dazai raises his hand to let the guy he's walking with know he isn't going to listen any longer — can't listen any longer when you are standing just out of reach. the surroundings have blurred and an itch begins to rise from the tip of his pinky finger, like someone's pulling on some sort of thread which he didn't know was wrapped around said finger.

he passes by people — some of whom he had talked to once or twice — but he doesn't see their faces. to dazai, everyone else except you seems to blend in with the surroundings.

he rubs his palms against the fabric of his jacket for no reason at all except it being a habit, suddenly gulping as walking had never been as harder as it's now, not even when he was shit drunk and completely off his senses and had to rely on chuuya to guide him back to his apartment.

"hey," dazai breathes out as soon as he stops in front of you and doesn't give you time to reply, extending his arms to wrap them around your waist, locking his wrists over the small of your back.

he then pushes you which makes you stumble a step ahead, feet bumping against his and thighs touching.

your eyes widen and a shuddering breath escapes you when dazai tilts his head so his lips are against your ear and whispers, "act. the guy with me is a friend of yuto's."

ah, no wonder he seemed familiar.

slowly, you raise your own hands to wrap them around his neck as you close your eyes to control your emotions — unsettled because of yuto, anger at your own self and temporary excitement caused by dazai — which collides with one another and tries to destroy the other two emotions to come out as the dominating one.

after a second or two, your fingers curl and straighten as you hesitate in doing whatever you want to.

please, choose me because no one else would, not even myself. i will do anything for you, i would kill myself too. why didn't you come to me . . ah, wait what am i thinking? why am i having these thoughts. there's no use. love can't be begged for.

"be free. do whatever you wish to with me. i won't stop you." whispers the man whose initial intention was to put on a convincing show for yuto's friend — that's why he called you here but the moment he saw you standing alone and looking so pretty, dazai's heart stuttered and tried to convince the brain to let it indulge in just a bit.

"now, how many women have you told this to?" you force yourself to ask and fully expect his answer to be one which will sober you up from the intoxication of his touch.

alas, he does exactly that.

"very few." dazai ends with a sigh as he feels you slowly begin to move your hand up and down his bandaged nape.

"and you are telling me this, why?" you know you shouldn't drag this on as by doing it you'll only hurt yourself but you can't help it because there's this cursed inkling of hope which screams against the obvious truth.

"such a foolish thing to ask," dazai chuckles, tightening his arms around you as he reminds himself that just two more minutes and then he'll let you go, "i simply want you to be comfortable around me."

"i am," you mumble, pressing your face against his shoulder and inhaling in whatever cologne he had borrowed from oda or ango or even the redhaired friend of his — it doesn't matter what or whose cologne it is since once it settled on dazai's body and mixed in with his scent, it became your favourite smell, "more then i should be."

"is it a bad thing?" dazai asks as he begrudgingly loosens his arms and takes a step back. one loss is replaced by a profit as dazai gets to stare at your face which is painted in shyness and drink in whatever expressions you make.

"for me? yeah. for you?" you offer a small smile but it shines so brightly that dazai feels as if something is holding his lungs hostage and not letting them perform their function.

unable to breathe, he can only stare at your face and feel the way you tap your fingers against his nape before pulling back completely, letting him experience a loss so great that he will ponder over it the entire night.

"for me?" dazai repeats your words to urge you to complete whatever you were going to speak.

"it's a good thing, probably? unless you don't want to get close to me." you joke, your smile still on your face as you wait for him to reciprocate it and go along or just react in a dramatic way — whatever he does, it'll have you laughing all the same.

you just didn't expect to see dazai look speechless for once. he almost looks shy as he nods on hearing your words, looking at your hands which are now at your side. he raises one of his own to grab and hold your hand while he runs his other hand through his hair.

thump, thump, thump!

"right. it's a good thing for me." dazai mumbles to you but you aren't sure if the nervousness in his voice is authentic or just for show.

he doesn't raise his hands to pat his face to check if the mask he usually wears with ease has loosened up or not because he can feel the threads holding the mask together loosening a bit.

you might be dazai's undoing.

he tugs at your hand as he turns around to lead you out of the building.

what you think is silence between you two is only because you can't hear his frantic heartbeat which is resonating through his entire body.

so, unaware of it, you decide to break the silence.

"if i was someone from your class and saw a couple hugging in the middle of the hallway, i would've been so pissed — i mean after a lecture, the last thing i want is to see a couple all in each other's faces." you giggle.

dazai forces his shaky hands to tighten his mask as he lazily grins, "good for you, i like pissing people.”

"good for you, i seem to piss people off even if i don't mean to." you laugh as dazai stops walking and turns to face you, grabbing your other hand so he can squeeze both of your hands.

"if you don't see this as a sign from the universe that we are meant to be then you must be blind. can't you see how compatible we are? the stars burn passionately to make sure we end up on this earth at the same time." dazai sighs dreamily as he sees your face brightening up with joy before you hide your face behind your wrists (as he's holding your hands,) to laugh loudly.

laugh, smile and even curse at him. for dazai, every one of your reactions evoked or aimed at him is as good as the fruit which fell on this earth from paradise.

"you are so — poetic," you wheeze, raising your head to look at him for just a second before hiding your face again to laugh freely.

"even someone who is usually bad with words couldn't help himself but dedicate sentences upon sentences of love filled confessions to you if they ever see you for even half a minute —" dazai tightens his grip on your hands and pulls, pulling you into his arms again as he quickly lets go of your hands to wrap them around your waist and hips again, "can i really be blamed for being poetic when it's you who appears as if you are a gift given to humanity from higher beings? like a painting created by the most skilled painter and presented to lousy, old me as if i can ever be worthy of ever holding you?"

"but you are holding me?" you point out, amused as you wrap your arms around his neck again. this time the action comes more naturally to you.

so gleeful, you are, that you do not notice the two pairs of eyes watching you from all the way across the yard where you and dazai had stopped. your back is turned to the duo and dazai pretends they are invisible to him.

humming, it's dazai who hides his face against your shoulder, rubbing his cheek against it as he answers your jest, "and may the Gods above forgive me for stepping out of line but i am just a sinner. how can i not let myself indulge in you for a bit when you look like you are everything i ever dreamt of?"

it's dangerous, you realise. him flirting with you this way is giving you false hope. you had forgotten his nature and habits for a second as you listened to him 'swooning' over you and had mistaken them for truth.

his arms around you suddenly feel less like your sanctuary and more like a prison you are trapped in but you don't push him away or create distance. you just force yourself to stay in his arms so you could engrave just how dangerous he is for you in your mind and body.

dangerous he is because he made sure that someone as observant as you will not realise that you two are being watched. he pulls back once he sees the fleeting shadows of the two people as they make their way to the nearest building.

yuto's friend had probably messaged others about seeing you and dazai together and the ones who were already lounging in the yard had perked up the moment they saw you and him walk out together.

to hug you and laugh with you while acting as if he doesn't know of the eyes watching them is dazai's method of planting seeds in the soil and watering the sapling that grew.

speaking of, the seeds had been planted in secret and he would reveal it to you now.

his phone ringing in his pocket is the signal or the sound of the drum which one hears before the start of a war in ancient times.

"right. i need you to come with me to the alley in between the bar and coffee shop. the ones on the end of the street?" dazai elaborates on the location since he is sure you must not frequent this area anymore because of yuto and his friends.

he is right.

you squint your eyes to try to remember if you know what place he is talking about, shaking your head at him as you realize you must've probably not gone there even when you were living here in the dorms just a street away.

"it's fine, i will take you. you trust me, right?" he jokes to lighten the mood or any nerves you might be feeling because he knows his sudden request must've thrown you off guard.

"you won't kidnap me, right?" you tease in a faux nervous tone, giggling again as you see him point his index finger at his face which wears a dramatically shocked expression.

"i couldn't even hurt a fly!" he gasps, beginning to lead you to the alley for a reason which is unknown to you but it doesn't raise alarms in your head at all since it's dazai and you trust him even if there's a small part in you which warns you constantly that this decision might hurt you but it's just your paranoia.

couldn't even hurt a fly, huh? you recall dazai's last words as you step inside the alley with him and see the sight waiting for you two at the end of this narrow yet long alley way.

your steps are careful and silent as opposed to dazai's confident and quick ones — this explains your dynamic too in some ways, you muse to yourself.

at the very end of the alley, the beaten up body of a man is slouched against the bricked wall and in front of him stands two thugs — you are sure of their occupation because of the way they are standing, in a rowdy fashion and the tattoos decorating their limbs and faces.

how does dazai know these people? is a thought that's beginning to cloud your mind urgently since no normal person usually has connections to thugs randomly, right?

perhaps they do? life is strange anyway. don't be so quick to judge him without knowing or even trying to understand his circumstances. they could be acquaintances or anything and even if he knows them, what's it to me? he knows yuto too so why's it unusual if he knows thugs too? you scold yourself.

you slow down to let dazai walk ahead of you. he doesn't mind it but you know he has noticed it as he glances at you discretely before taking a larger step ahead to be in front, understanding your suspicions and fears. for this, you are grateful to him. it's small actions like this which you value a lot.

"dazai-san," both the men nod their head and it's weird to see two men who look bulkier and stronger than dazai looking at their feet as if they can't or are afraid to make eye contact with him.

it makes you question who he is again since it's clear who holds the authority here — the younger man who is pretending to be your boyfriend to help you out.

"thank you!" compared to the serious atmosphere, dazai's cheery voice stands out, "you two certainly have been a big help to me! consider your favours nearly paid."

you shouldn't have paid as much attention as you did to his last few words. the mystery behind dazai's acquaintance with these thugs is clear at least, they owe him favours. what he did to have literal thugs be indebted to him is none of your problem and you will not waste your time and develop a headache by dwelling on it.

its funny how the two men seem to be similar to you in demeanor — all three of you are nervous or anxious. except dazai.

he's always the exception, isn't he?

he seems to be able to do what shouldn't be physically possible in most cases. this might be one of his charms too.

the two men bow as soon as dazai stops speaking and you could see the relief on their faces at not having to spend another minute near dazai any longer. they haven't even acknowledged you at all, not even when they scramble past you to leave the alley and be far, far away from dazai.

"what was that?" you ask, looking over your shoulder to see their backs getting smaller and smaller the more they walk away, not running away any longer as they are at a safe distance from dazai.

but does anyone know how far you have to be from dazai to be considered safe?

"hm? they owed me favours." he shrugs as he looks back at you with a small smile, appearing indifferent to the nearly unconscious man and his pained breaths which you can hear more clearly now as you have taken two steps ahead to be next to dazai.

why do you know thugs? you decide not to ask this after all and instead, "where did you even find them, dude?" you mutter, curiously eyeing the man in front and wondering why there's a layer of apathy in dazai's eyes as he's staring at the same sight as you.

"uhh, two streets away, there's a club. normal looking and it is normal for the most part but everything appears normal at first glance. if you go to the bartender and order a specific drink, he will give you a ticket — a piece of crumbled paper which is not that impressive looking. it's a deceiving sight because once you obtain that paper, you walk straight to the bouncers who are guarding the stairs which go up to the first floor."

while dazai speaks about the club which is already raising alarms in your mind, you take this time to carefully observe the man who doesn't seem that older than you two.

"you take the ticket to the bouncer who will look at it and nod as if granting you permission. he will lead you around the stairs towards the space between the wall and the staircase where there's a narrow door. he will use his key to open it and show you the staircase that leads to the basement. if you descend those steps, you'll end up at the underground bar which is just a friendly term to refer to the hub where you can demand services from thugs if you pay them good enough. drugs, weapons and stolen arts are sold and bought like it's normal. those people owe me." dazai shrugs as he completes his explanation and despite how grim the topic is, his voice remained light and cheerful, almost delighted even as he told you about it all. as if he didn't expose one of the tiny dark holes of the underground to you.

greedily you listen to the information pouring out of his lips even if fear is clinging to you like a child whose lips quiver when she realises her mother isn't listening to her and will force her to step forwards and take a step into the big, unfamiliar world. for, even if fear is attached to your hip as dazai reveals a new side to himself, your heart is naive and stubborn and doesn't want to be afraid of dazai of all people. not anymore. not him after he has done so much for you.

so, you decide to focus on the man. there's a cut going across his eyebrow and upwards on the left side of his face and the blood from said cut is dripping down like heavy rain does from windows of the bus you frequent and depend on for transport. his right eye is swollen and there are many cuts littered on the lower half of his face ranging from the bruise which is growing a darker shade on his cheekbone to the cuts on his nose and the one above his lips which makes his upper lips swell up too.

you grimace, heart clenching anxiously at the sight and the sound of his pained breaths and quiet sobs.

your own eyes begin to grow moist as well but you blink quickly to not let the injured man's face move you away. you need to trust dazai. he won't order someone to beat up an innocent man.

dazai seems like the person whose heart doesn't beat without permission from him. he knows what he is doing so you have to put your faith in him and trust him.

"is this too much for you?" dazai's voice softens and you look at your side to see he's already staring at you with perhaps regret in his eyes. shaking your head, you do little to convince or reassure him as he continues, "i am sorry. i shouldn't have assumed you'll be fine with violence. are you scared of me now?"

"i don't think you are a bad guy anymore." your words are a direct call back to your conversation with him that night.

dazai's lips quirk up but it isn't a smile of relief, that much you can tell as you stare at his face and try to put your fingers on the lines forming between his perfectly crafted mask.

"i am not sure if i should call you bold or optimistic." dazai forces himself to chuckle soon after the words leave his mouth in a quiet and somber tone.

he doesn't let you dwell on it any longer or allow you to question his words and reactions as he gestures to the beaten up man, turning to face him.

dazai takes two steps ahead to stand between the man's almost limp legs at which you glance only now to notice the stamps of shoes all over his pants. it won't be a surprise for you if those thugs ended up dislocating one or both of his kneecaps.

"this is the face behind that unknown number who was sending you messages a week ago," he reveals as he crouches down, grabbing the man's chin harshly between his thumb and index finger to turn his face from one side to the other as he shows disregard to the pained whimpers escaping the man, "though i must admit, for someone who was texting you all that shit, he doesn't look as crude or impressive now."

your first thought isn't of anger or anything related to the man.

but how do you know? how did you find him?

sensing your eyes are on him and not on the culprit, dazai tilts his head back to offer you a smirk. the blackness in his heart is like the waves during a high tide, threatening to swallow his heart fully. it's akin to a gleeful child whose efforts are finally about to be noticed by the adult they idolize.

except you aren't the adult he idolizes and he isn't excited to see you notice his efforts. he is curious to see your reaction after you realise the extent he is ready to go to to achieve something, not giving a damn about morals and legality.

"i know a guy who is an exceptional hacker. he also happens to be exceptionally bad at socializing —" his lips spread to show his teeth which are sharp and glinting. to him, he isn't smiling in pride but baring his teeth like a monkey who is threatened, "— i happen to be good at it. he owes me a favour and i had asked him to find the owner of the number."

"wait — you mean you had memorized the number? i barely showed it to you for a few minutes." you gasp, taking a step ahead involuntarily.

dazai blinks once, staring at you as if you are the unreasonable here before he lets out a confused, ". . uh yeah?"

"you are insane."

but you might be insane as well, dazai thinks in amusement as he watches you take another step forwards so you are standing beside him.

he watches your eyes shift from him to the man, the friendly glint in them dims like how the flame of a candle does once the warmth produced by a group of people leaves as they walk away and the lone candle is left to fight off the strong freezing breezes itself.

"he's the one?"

"he's the one." dazai repeats in confirmation as his grip on the man's chin tightens in warning, "say, mister? will you be a dear and cooperate with us or do i need to break another bone of your's to show you what happens when you poke your nose into business which doesn't concern you at all?"

you pretend as if dazai's words and the change of his tone isn't making your skin crawl in terror as well.

you catch the way he curls his fingers so his nails could dig into the man's skin and resist the urge to glance at dazai.

the man lets out some sort of gibberish along with his sobs and you forget the messages he had sent you and that he's probably one of your faceless 'bullies' too because something about hearing a grown man choke on his sobs because of his fears is just so sad and it hits you hard because you have been in this position too, you have also spent hours in the bathroom stalls, choking on your own sobs.

but who's to say dazai hasn't been through anything like this too?

you glance at him just as he does so and a silent jolt runs through you as you understand what he's doing.

you mimic dazai and crouch down to be able to look at the man eye to eye while dazai shifts away to give you space, you raise and place your hand over dazai's to pull his hand away from the man's chin.

"don't," you tell softly yet loudly so the man could hear too.

it made sense for his personality to do a complete one-eighty when he looked at the man because the man doesn't really deserve kindness. he's getting what he signed up for when he had sent you those messages but the moment you decided to think about the switch a little bit deeply, you realised he's using the oldest trick in the book — good cop, bad cop.

a technique used in all kinds of interrogation rooms where one person of authority acts as a sympathetic, kind figure and the others pick up a more aggressive or colder and calculated approach.

this is why dazai is dangerous. his seemingly deserving actions seems to hide another meaning which if you aren't sharp enough to catch, will remain hidden forever.

"but —" now that you know what approach dazai has been hinting at the entire time, you can notice the hidden amusement in his voice and you make sure to not glance at his face even by mistake or else you'll end up bursting into fits of giggles.

"he's already bruised, dazai. go easy on him," you purposely look at the man's spread legs between which you and dazai are crouching and frown, "he might already be suffering from a dislocated kneecap. let's not make it worse."

you just wanted to scare the guy but tears began to overflow from his eyes and fell down his cheeks and oh, this is even better.

the man raised his bruised and scarred hands to place them on your hand which is the nearest to him as a mixture of choked sobs and words leaves his lips. he's trying to speak amidst the emotions choking him.

you place your other hand on top of his as you nod, hoping the smile on your face appears kind enough to console him, "don't worry mister, i already called an ambulance —"

pretending to hesitate, you look down as you purse your lips before looking up again to speak in a quieter tone, "but have i done something to you, mister? why did you send me those messages?"

"i am sorry — i am so sorry. i am truly sorry —" his words finally begin to make sense as he begins to cry loudly like a child, his hands are shaking from the intensity of his cries, "— please forgive me. i-i didn't — i am sorry — i didn't know why i did it."

"did what?" you make sure your voice sounds confused as you press on his words.

"belittling you. i am sorry — i am sorry, i didn't know why i did that — why did i let them influence me and think it was just harmless fun?" he closes his eyes and begins to wheeze while crying, "please forgive me, i was just going along with the trend. i am sorry. i am truly sorry. i am really sorry."

"who —"

"i am sorry. please forgive me. i will never do this again to anyone. i am sorry." he continues to repeat between his sobs, caught up in a crossroad between his guilt and fear. he has nowhere to run (literally and it's not as if he can physically get up now and run away) and so, he ended up breaking down.

ah, he can't answer anymore, you realise and so, your little act comes to an end.

you slowly pull your hands back from the man's and in his turmoil, he doesn't even seem to notice you doing so.

turning your head to look at dazai, your heart skips a beat as you find him already staring at you. he raises his eyebrows and you swear a simple action isn't supposed to look so hot and clearly not in a situation like this and makes you recall the kiss you shared with him just a week ago.

you shrug in response, gaze falling on his lips which felt just right the last time they were pressed against yours. dazai notices your gaze and quietly chuckles, mouthing, “later?”

your entire body burns as the blood inside you isn't sure where to flow first.

dazai doesn't mind your inability to provide an answer to his playful teasing and instead, he stands up and offers his hand to you.

thump, thump!

you slowly raise and place your hand on top of his bandaged one, mesmerized for a moment at how effortlessly he curls his fingers around your hand and tugs at it to pull you to stand up.

you do not glance at the man again as dazai begins to lead you out of the alley and towards the bus stop. you aren't trying to exaggerate but you swear you can feel your heartbeat pounding in your veins too. can dazai feel it too?

"so when is your imaginary ambulance coming?" he teases and with a chuckle, you drop your head against his shoulder, too exhausted by today's events and also because you just want to be close to him.

there's this hot urge to make sure you are maintaining some sort of skin to skin contact with him. this urge is running up and down your veins spread throughout your body.

"never. i hope someone finds him. if they don't then it's fine too. he's not exactly an innocent guy . . . you know, dazai?" you suddenly begin and he hums, letting you know he is listening.

dazai isn't sure if you are noticing it as well but your steps are in sync with his and it's something he is finding oddly intimate at this moment. the fact that even your bodies are moving in harmony must mean something so perhaps it's a good thing that you aren't noticing it. maybe he wants you to notice it.

he wants you to look at your synchronized steps and grow flustered but this thought disappears from his mind as soon as it appears because maybe it's better this way. the less you notice about him when it comes to you, the better it'll be to pull out a few lousy excuses and tie them together to form a lie which will be like a wall to create distance between you both once he's done his part in helping you. still, his thoughts wander.

how can you be so blind to think i do not care about you when even my body is breaking its usual walking habits to walk along with you, to make sure each of our steps ends and starts together. how can you even think i don't notice you when even my body isn't immune to you? how can i be sure that my heart isn't getting affected then?

"i just realised fear really strips a man down to his most vulnerable state. it makes him behave like a child —" you pause to think of words which will help to easily convey your thoughts, not realising the way dazai's eyes avert to stare down at your face, "— children are very sensitive to affection and kindness no matter who it comes from. to them the smile of a killer is no different then that of a teacher's. that man in the alley was still in aftershock from being beaten up and the terror you caused in him. so, the moment i showed him some kindness, he began to cry like a baby. he probably thought i was some sort of protector."

"the relief you brought him along with his own shame and guilt moved him to tears. to see the person who he mindlessly belittled for some sort of 'trend' be the one to step in at such a threatening moment in his life and offer comfort was too much for his consciousness. after all, the punishment starts as soon as one commits a crime of any scale, it begins in the form of mental anguish." dazai adds to your words but the satisfaction which travels down your stomach on realising that you two are probably thinking of the same thing is so much louder, it demands your attention more than dazai's melodic voice which is making his honey dipped words dance to its melody.

then, the melody stops all of a sudden and a heavy silence settles near your ears. his words, especially the 'trend' one made you recall what the man has confessed. piece after piece joins each other to form a vague picture in your mind.

"who is that man, anyway? related to yuto?" you ask, not wanting to give him any half formed observations.

dazai squeezes your hand again like he's been doing the entire time during your walk.

"not really. a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of yuto's."

you furrow your eyebrows, staring at dazai. he stares back and blinks.

". . . yes?"

"uh, nevermind that," you chuckle at how absurd this man is, "but he is loosely related to yuto, after all."

"indeed, he is. yuto might be the most impressive person in his friend group so it isn't a surprise that secondary and tertiary social circles of his friends talk about him too. which means?" dazai pauses to let you continue ahead and you almost feel like you are talking to a professor who had laid the basics of a problem in front of you and had told you about a few extra stuff and is now waiting for you to join them or find the common context behind them and use it to solve the problem.

he's doing exactly that, isn't he?

"which means one of two things ; one, either these other social groups have heard about me and yuto and concluded that if they can pressurize me into 'getting back' with yuto then they'll enter his good books, or two, they see me as some sort of punching bag or spectacle. um, it's like the people who are jealous or don't like yuto can like, target their anger towards me or maybe they are just, you know, brainless idiots who are seeing their friends do this shit to me and just wanted to join in the fun."

"i will hunt down every single one of them and make sure they apologise to you." the sudden serious tone he uses while promising you of something that you deem impossible, makes your heart beat to fasten yet again.

tilting your head up to stare at dazai with unconcealed disbelief for the first time, your eyes wander all over his face from the way his eyelashes curl delicately to the way his lips aren't curved up at all to form a smile which will let you know he is saying all this for the sake of comforting you, for superficial reasons.

the possibility of dazai osamu feeling anger on your behalf is touching the delicate parts of your soul after which a sweet sort of poison is injected right into your brain. this leads to all sorts of happy hormones bubbling up inside you.

heat rushes up your neck as you immediately realise he's being serious in actuality. your eyes move down to stare at his neck which seems so delicate and frail, especially since he has bandages wrapped around the length of it, since you aren't sure if you'll be able to maintain eye contact with him without melting into a puddle by his feet and following his shadow.

you will be content if you could get the chance to walk next to his shadow for eternity because walking next to the actual him is just wishful thinking in an acute reality.

"thank you. for everything that you are doing. you don't have to but still you do and for this, i will always be thankful to you —"

"if i don't help my girl, then who will, ma cherie?" he had said these words before too, if you recall correctly, but every time he speaks so makes you feel like if he won't hold your hand with the next step you take then you might just begin to float towards the clouds.

kindness it may be or it may be something more — you don't even care at this point since you'll enjoy them all the same. his attention is the sweet poison and you have tasted it, so how can anyone expect you to go on about your day anymore and not think of the sharp sweetness stinging your senses and wanting to have more of it?

the bus stops in front of you two and the sound of the doors opening is usually a norm for you as you've heard it countless times till now. on early mornings and days where you get exhausted, you have cursed at this loud sound and sometimes even hissed in irritation but for some reason, the sound doesn't really affect your ears this time. it's still loud but tolerable and distant.

dazai leads you up the steps of the bus but you can't feel the floor beneath your shoes. neither do you feel the poke as you bump into the seats while following dazai who takes the seats near the very back, leaving the seat near the window free for you.

your hip brushes against his knee as you move past him and sends shock waves through your body.

as you settle in your seat and look at dazai who is slouching on the seat, the chatter and laughter of the people around you two reaches your ears and makes you blink because you didn't even notice the others.

ah, that's it.

around dazai, nothing else matters. people blur into the surroundings and everything feels numb because he's the most brilliant star in your orbit. there may be a moon, a sun, and even other planets. but you do not care because none of the other celestial bodies can even amount to a speck of your favourite star's flames.

"you are like a star." you mumble out, head leaning against your seat as you stare at him.

dazai turns his head to face you, eyebrows raised and an unfamiliar smile rests on his lips, "because they burn?"

"because calling you a mere light bulb is wrong. it's underappreciating your value in my life." you look away quickly out of shyness and because of the inner serenity you are feeling.

your head faces the window again and time pauses the moment your eyes meet purple ones. it's an intense purple which hypnotizes the watcher and the deep sorrow found in them makes you curious about who he is, what his story is and if there is anything you could do to make the doleful look in his eyes disappear for even a little while.

someone might as well have pierced their way through your chest and stolen your heart. that's akin to the emptiness you feel. your limbs feel too heavy and your bones feel heavier. it's as if your muscles won't be able to handle and support the weight of your bones anymore and will begin to tear the moment you try to lift yourself up.

alas, that's exactly what you do. pushing despite the excruciating numbness, you sit up straight but fate seems to be walking in a direction opposite to yours as the bus begins to move and warns you to not blink unless you want to miss the forlorn figure of the man.

the man continues to stand inside the bus stop and smiles just as he begins to disappear from your window and gets replaced by the moving scenery.

oh, again? you find yourself thinking as the sight the mysterious man has left you feeling despondent for some reason.

father had left after twenty minutes, which passed by too slowly for you who watched him talk with dazai with a longing that has been there since your childhood. you listened carefully to how dazai answered, the way he sat, the tone he spoke in and how many seconds he took to answer.

father looked like he enjoyed talking to dazai and that should have been enough to make you happy that he's getting along with the guy you have feelings for but you were too busy repeating your own short replies to him and comparing them to dazai's, counting the differences the moment you do so.

you observed dazai and you will do your best to mimic him the next time you get to talk to father.

currently, a ball of wires which has been tangled together to form a ball remains in your throat and burns it as you realise and remember how rude and cruel you've been to poor father who must have already been so overworked and exhausted. not to mention he came to your apartment for the first time since you hung up on him that day in anger. he had put in effort to come here and you dismissed them in your petty anger.

will it always be like this? will you always wish for him to push only to pull the moment he does?

dazai watches you from his place on the couch and the quiet sorrow that hangs from your movements as you take your clothes out of your bag to wash them doesn't escape him.

your movements are sluggish and lagging as you plop the clothes in your small laundry basket, as if you are no human but a robot made to mimic them and have been turned on after a long while.

it's . . not a good look on you. he doesn't like to see you this way — so void of life but at the same time, dazai is aware that this might be the rawest version of you.

this makes him feel unsettled. as if the realisation that he doesn't know you entirely is something perilous.

"where . . .?" dazai trails off but you understand his question very well and this makes you halt the movement of your hand from opening the door to leave the apartment.

looking over your shoulder, you aren't sure if you offer him a smile or is it more of a grimace but you offer him the answer quietly along with it, "laundry room. it's in the basement."

watching dazai stand up from the couch with a detached curiosity, it clicks into your mind the moment he begins to walk towards you that he wants to accompany you, the reason behind so remains a mystery to you.

"you don't have to —"

"but i want to," he cuts you off as he takes the laundry basket from your hands and opens the door, walking ahead as if he has been doing this hundreds of times.

as if this isn't his first time at your place.

"you know where the basement is?" you ask, tilting your head as you walk beside him, blinking when he glances at you with raised eyebrows.

"usually anyone can find a basement." he says as if this is the most obvious thing and it might be but you aren't sure since your mind is somewhat hazy and lagging.

you can't even register the floor beneath you because every third step it feels as if you are floating on something squishy.

"ah, i guess so?" you shrug.

you blink in confusion again when dazai turns slightly to offer you his hand after he steps down the first step.

"chivalry isn't dead?" you try to joke but he shakes his head, a smile on his lips which doesn't match the intensity shining in his eyes.

"look at yourself, cherie. you look like you'll sink to your knees at any moment. i don't want you to hurt yourself in my presence." because it will make me realise how much you being in pain affects me and that will break the illusion i am living in. don't get hurt in front of me so i won't have to face the side of me which i am trying to convince myself doesn't exist.

his voice is serious yet the smile is still on his face and perhaps it's the only thing that's stopping you, already tired from father's visit, from believing that he is being playful and that there isn't any deeper meaning to it.

you place your hand on top of his, letting him slowly guide you and ground you to reality.

"if . . you know, if you feel bad it's probably self projection or something." you blurt out.

"what if it's genuine care on my part?" he quietly asks.

"yeah, it can be that too." you quietly chuckle because you are holding yourself back from outright rejecting this absurd claim of him caring about you. it's probably him feeling guilty or something.

dazai's hold on your hand tightens as you take the last step down the staircase and stand in front of a single, run down, wooden door which could break if a wind blows by a little strongly.

he doesn't let go of your hand as he uses his leg to push the door open, revealing a narrow, somewhat dark path as a lonely bulb is trying its best to light the way from its place in the middle of the hallway.

the light doesn't reach your feet but it's just a step away out of reach.

something about it makes you laugh — a short, surprised one.

dazai glances your way, eyebrows raised to ask what you find so funny about all this as he takes the first step ahead.

"you are the light bulb of my life," you begin, taking your first step ahead while he takes the second one and steps into the weak reflection of the light.

"do you see me as that weak or pathetic?" he tries to joke but it comes out softer because a part of him knows this is going to be another confession and he doesn't want to hear it but the other part of him wants to hear it to feed the hunger of his blackened heart.

you shake your head, taking your second step and entering the weak lightened path as you smile fondly, remembering that night which started it all.

"you seem to light up my life too even if you don't mean to. it's small things you do that shows me that light is just out of reach in my otherwise, darkened life," your smile turns softer and somewhat nostalgic and voice gets even more quieter with your next words while you squeeze his hand once to show how much you appreciate him, "i have never said it outright but thank you for reaching out to me that night. i think i just wanted someone to reach out and show that they care —"

"i do care for you." he interrupts quietly since there is this desperate urge in him to let you know of this.

you offer him a small smile, "it would've been fine even if you didn't. the action would've meant the same to me. thank you, dazai-san."

perhaps it's because you refer to him with such terms rarely or it's because the atmosphere is already serious because of your confession which confirms his fear that yes, had he not reached out then you wouldn't be walking next to him today.

dazai offers you a small smile back as you two approach the end of the hallway which seemed as if it might be too long but really isn't when you walk into it and there stands a lone door which you reach out for before he could, opening it with your free hand, steps a bit lighter yet more stronger then your previous ones.

you lead him inside the laundry room, clicking the lights on.

there are three washing machines in a row with dryers stacked on top of them.

"rent covers it?" dazai asks, trying to make small talk and to hide the way his hand goes limp when you take a step away from him, letting go of his hand to begin shuffling through your clothes.

"no. bill comes every other month. the landlord's daughter comes to collect it."

"is there a limit to how many times you can use the washing machines in a week?" he asks, fisting his hand which was previously holding your's and walks over to sit on the bench in the middle which creaks in surprise at his weight, probably because the tenants usually come and go once their clothes are washed. no one really lingers around here unless they have romantic company.

you look at him over your shoulder with a small smile, knelt in front of an open washing machine inside which you were stuffing your clothes in, "same price for every individual for each day. you pay for how many days you use the machines. it's a trust for trust system."

his elbows dig into his thighs as he leans on his hands and offers you a smirk, "and you didn't try to take advantage of it even once? there's no cctv cameras. how will the landlord know you visited or not? come at a time when no one is present to see you and you will earn yourself a free wash."

his smirk softens into a half smile at the sound of your laughter that flows through the space.

you shake your head, closing the lid and pressing the buttons as you stand up, brushing your thighs and the back of them as you lean against the washing machine and cross your arms.

"i think only you can pull this off. i would be too scared to do so and end up making some mistake which will give it away that it's me."

"i know," he quietly agrees, "if i don't help my girl out of all people then who will?" his words are softer than what you would like to hear from him because it moves your heart in a way which seems good only in your imagination on lonely days. in real life, it's more emotional than warm.

your throat begins to clog up again with that tangled ball of wires.

you are no different from sisyphus. if he has to carry a boulder up a hill and watch it tumble down again and again for eternity before he could reach the top to pay for his sins, then you pay for your sin by being affected again and again by these small actions of people. you let yourself be touched by someone who is probably just saying all this out of formality or so he could look at himself in the mirror tomorrow knowing he is a 'good person'.

it’s ignorant to label dazai as one but this is your defence mechanism speaking, it will push people away before they can pull back themselves again and again.

"let's save some of your money next weekend, hm?" dazai's voice is like a thread. a red one so it's easily visible to you even if you are far away. this thread wraps itself around your pinky finger and pulls you out of the pit of your thoughts but it's wrapped lightly so you could pull your hand and snap it if you ever want to.

dazai offers help but you need to have the mentality which wants to be saved and work for it or else it's of no use.

"are you indirectly letting me know you'll stay over?" you blurt out but you weren't supposed to because this was supposed to be your internal observation or a joke to break the train of your thoughts because they are getting a bit too personal and rosy again, painting dazai in a good light.

but now your joke is out in the open and for some reason, you don't trip over your words to explain yourself or make this situation right. you just shrug with a small smile.

dazai blinks then stands up, approaching you in three quick strides as he hums, "you won't kick me out, right?"

the air shifts. he feels it as so do you. it's charging with something you can't put a name to.

"such a foolish thing to say." you mumble under your breath because you can't think of a single possibility where you will turn dazai away from your doorsteps.

since you are leaning against the machine, he ends up towering over you and oh, you gulp. this position is very intimate to you for some reason. it's as if he is blocking the room away so your focus wouldn't waver away from him. if you delude yourself enough, you can almost imagine that he is demanding you pay attention to him and no one else.

but how could this be the case, right? dazai osamu is used to the attention of many so the attention from a single individual will probably not satisfy the hunger of his rotten and barely beating heart.

looking up at him, you are probably not aware of how quickly dazai's breath hitches at the sight of your eyes shining with an intensity he isn't a stranger too but not quite familiar with as well for he has always looked away quickly when you pin him down with this exact stare.

something uncomfortable pricks at his skin as a stray thought enters his brain and makes the observation that he hasn't really seen you look at someone else with this stare. so what if one day, the subject this gaze is directed to changes from him to someone else?

his heart glances at the pit of his stomach and wonders how painful the fall will be but it's sure the fall will be far more merciful than the ache you will bring, if you ever do decide that he isn't worth the time and someone better than him exists for you.

he isn't denying these words. he had looked at chuuya many times and thought he would be a better partner for you and would look away just as quickly, the words "as if", hanging at the tip of his tongue because the thought would disappear as quickly as it would appear. quite arrogantly so and the arrogance comes from the knowledge of knowing that even if the most perfect man was to stand in front of you, you would barely offer him a short, fleeting glance before focusing on him with fondness dripping from your eyes.

oh, how this thought had always and still continues to warm him. he is filled with gratitude and a certain softness whenever he realises this. the dry skin on the surface of his heart seems to chip away to let the more sensitive and moist one finally breathe.

"when have i ever kicked you out, hm dazai?" you ask and dazai thinks you are dangerous and you will be the death of him.

he shudders as his name leaves your mouth and this along with his previous softness for you seems to overpower his fear and rationality.

lifting his bandages hand up to cup your cheeks, dazai swears he just wanted to touch and perhaps caress your skin to make you just as affected as he feels at this moment.

but you lean just a bit into his touch and oh, oh Eros, damn you, for dazai osamu comes undone at the sight of your blind trust and comfortability around him.

thump, thump, thump!

he leans forwards too in a quick flash and presses his lips against yours for a quick peck. he pulls back just as quickly as he leaned in and sees your eyes are wide now just like his.

you can still feel the slightest brush of his somewhat dry lips against yours. blood rushes to your neck and ears as you stare at him, waiting for an explanation while ignoring the way fireworks seem to burst inside your body. your hands at your side twitch once, twice.

perhaps a minute passes by as you two stare at each other in surprise and then, you lift your hand to wrap it around his wrist and squeeze it in comfort.

"just wanted to," he breathes out as soon as you do so as if he has been waiting for a sign to know you aren't angry at his sudden move while trying to pull his hands back to create distance between you two, his apology tumbling out of him in the form of a gasp as if he still can't wrap his head around his impulsive action, "i am sorry —"

"won't you kiss me properly?" your words cut his apology off and he blinks, mindlessly looking down at your hand squeezing his wrist.

you don't hate it, good. you don't hate him.

the thought itself is too heavy to even ponder on.

his grip on your face tightens and he could feel the curve of your jaw against his palms now and could even see you gulp down in anticipation.

this time, you close your eyes before he even leans in and dazai pauses just as his lips are about to touch yours to notice every delicate eyelash clinging to your eyelid and if there are any marks or blemishes on your skin which he could see only now because the current moment is the one in which he is really looking at you with an intensity he never harbored before.

his gaze falls down to your lips and he breathes out to watch it fall against your lips which make them twitch. you part your lips slightly and then close them quickly, probably about to open your eyes and look at him with confusion so before that could happen, dazai tilts his head and presses his lips on top of yours.

yuto nakayama doesn't come by to visit you tonight for he had seen dazai enter your apartment with a bag on his shoulders from the balcony just as he gets out of his car.

he sees the way dazai stops midway and turns around to walk towards the balcony to stare down at him. the latter tilts his head, eyes void of any emotions as he leans his upper body on top of his crossed arms which rests on the railings and at this moment it doesn't matter if yuto had seen this look on dazai's face many times before because he reacts the same way he always does when he realises he is the object of attention for this void stare — a chill runs down the length of his spinal cord while every conscious thought of his repeats the same thing, to run away as far as he could.

yuto closes his eyes as he chuckles to shrug off his nerves and shakes his head, turning on his heels to enter his car again while pretending as if dazai's eyes aren't boring holes in his back and then poking at the wounds to increase the flow of the blood infused with fear which is dripping out.

dazai osamu : do you regret the kiss?

this isn't a text you were expecting to see a week after the kiss happened.

blinking, you drop the pen you were holding on top of your opened notebook and grab your phone which had been laying on the table screen side up, thinking of a reply as you punch in your pincode to unlock the phone.

exams have and are approaching with many of them falling in the same week which resulted in you being holed up in the university library for most of the days and kind of isolating yourself from everyone like you always do.

everyone except dazai osamu because he keeps on showing up in small ways. most of them are to make sure yuto can't find an opening when you are alone to come and strike up a conversation with you.

you even remember the exact words he used to justify his actions, "ma cherie, you are numb to it. insensitive even but at face value. your mind will not think much of it but your nervous system will. whenever yuto will approach you and make small conversations, ones which seem harmless at first will end up torturing your body. your nervous system won't be as nonchalant as your brain and it will show you the signs of this disturbance when you are about to give an important exam which your mind deems important. isn't it poetic? the events your mind will think of as unworthy will end up ruining the ones deemed as important."

me : don't you think it's late to ask that now?

immediately, he replies.

dazai osamu : 🥺🥺 God forbid a man wants reassurance from his woman.

me : don't pmo during exam season. i am js one reason away from breaking down.

dazai osamu : say the word and daddy dazai will come to protect you from your tensions.

me : 😭 stop pmo dude. i am gonna block you.

dazai osamu : ngh nearly came. be more mean to me.

me : 😟✌🏻.

"you are smiling alot." the simple comment bothers you more than it should have.

immediately, you look up at jun who sits on the chair opposite of you, a small smile on his face. he is the only one apart from dazai who you couldn't bring yourself to be away from.

it's because he is a good friend, you would say to yourself on a good day but on nights where you are exhausted and your brain is fried after your intense study sessions and yuto's relentless 'persuasion', you cannot lie to yourself out of all people — jun is a substitute for hyun.

a faint black mist travels down your mouth towards your esophagus, leaving a dry feeling where it hurts to even gulp down your saliva. it then moves to your stomach. the black mist-like feeling is carved out of dread and as it exits to enter the small intestine, your stomach clenches around itself. it's as if your entire digestive system is trying to tell you that something will go south very quickly.

"dazai is bothering me." you offer an explanation which makes jun's eyes crinkle more in glee. this makes you wonder what he thinks of dazai considering he used to be yuto's best buddy at one time.

"guess he doesn't know how scary you are yet." he jokes and you widen your eyes in mock offence but a smile makes its way on your lips too.

placing the phone on your lap, you purse your lips to not ask any unnecessary questions and you look down at your book to try to move your mind to the right track and resume studying.

you have to be honest with yourself, of all people. you can't go on like this, pretending the pills of lies you swallow are the truth.

truth is, you confessed to dazai osamu that night to get rejected so you could hold something to hate dazai for because the reason you have been reusing till now — that he's the reason why you got dragged into this yuto mess — has always been weak. you didn't really believe it but it was just an outlet to let out your frustrations at the moment.

clawing at your thigh, you quietly look up to see jun scratching above his eyebrow with his index finger as he intensely focuses on the laptop screen in front of him which is probably displaying his study material. his eyes don't waver to his surroundings and remain fixated on the screen, you note to try to tell yourself that he's busy and you shouldn't bother him.

ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him. ask him.

your mind chants against your ears, striking down a metal hammer against your eardrums with every chant. the more you try to pretend to be deaf to these chants, the louder they get till a hot, almost burning, kind of feeling rushes through the tip of your toes to your brain.

". . hey?" you call out nervously amidst the torture your mind is inflicting on you.

jun immediately looks up, a small smile on his face since he smiles alot. he's good and happy natured. perhaps this is why you do not feel the urge to never see his face again unlike others. there's this positivity around him which touches even your wretched heart and makes you hope.

then why don't you feel the same around yui? is it because in the way you blame dazai, you blame her too?

indeed, it's that.

"what do you think about dazai?" you quietly tap at your phone screen while you ask so, to divert your nervousness towards something else so it won't show on your face. your hand is hidden by the table between you and so is your nervousness.

"this is sudden," jun chuckles and then his smile slowly disappears just as your heart skips a beat.

yeah, all bullshit aside.

this is why you still hang around with jun because this face he is making right now is one you've seen on yourself many times. this face tells you that his happy - go - lucky persona came to him after years of suffering. he isn't sunshines and rainbows at all. he manipulates the fire inside him to appear as sunshine to whoever looks at him.

the hope you get when you are around him? it's because of this. if he can be so positive despite whatever it is that he has gone through then perhaps there's a chance for you too?

"you just have a knack for attracting the worst guys, don't you?" jun chuckles again but it's more restricted, more suffocated as if he's holding back on so many emotions. he raises his hands to rub his face, still chuckling quietly but you see the slightest twitch of his fingers and how hard he digs his fingerpads onto his skin.

"be it dazai osamu or yuto nakayama — they are both the worst kind of dogs. nakayama relishes on power and intimidation but dazai does so on excruciating mental battles which feels like torture. why do you like him?" he genuinely looks lost as he asks you this and then quickly shakes his head, he doesn't want to know the reason, "dazai osamu? he's the type of guy you shouldn't turn to even when the entire world is against you. he's a demon with the face of an angel, you know? everything he does is for his own gain — that guy is nuts, i tell you. who the fuck actively tries to kill themselves and ask women to commit a lover's suicide with them?”

jun doesn't notice how you stiffen at the mention of this. you can feel your heart in your throat, wishing to leap out to escape the painful memories this one sentence can make you remember but like always, your subconscious pushes it down deep in your mind, leaving only a slight itch and the feeling of there being something you know but can't remember right now.

this is your defence mechanism as the memories and feelings are too strong for you to carry in a sane state. perhaps you would be indifferent to and talk about them if you were to be in a high fever or something similar to it. but you aren't in either of those conditions right now and trying to force yourself to remember them will just shatter you more.

you will keep on pushing down at these memories which tries to push the lid away and escape the bottom your mind has trapped them in, until one day, the lid will loosen itself to let them out when you least expect it, too caught up in many other thoughts as well, your brain won't even notice these memories slipping past until they appear infront of your eyes.

“he's not a good guy. haven't you heard his womanizing ways — ah, fuckkkkk. this is driving me nuts, you know?" his voice cracks as he says the last sentence and doesn't speak for a while.

a daunting kind of silence which doesn't really exist between you and jun usually, takes over and your finger begins to tap at the phone screen quickly to the point you are beginning to fear that he can hear it too.

jun looks at you again with a pleading look in his eyes and offers you his hand which you look at for five seconds, then ten, before you raise your free hand to place it on top of his, letting him hold your hand.

he squeezes it once before continuing in a much calmer voice compared to before, "i think he is a bad guy, along with many others — he is the child of a charnel house,"

oh. okay.

jun's words hangs in the space between you two like the cracks between a painted wall. you do not let your eyes waver away from his for even a second because that would mean submission, an expression of cowardice and of your resolutions — in this case, your opinions — shaking.

jun doesn't falter but continues, "sure, he is charming and smart but every harmful thing is appealing in one way or the other, do you understand? why let yourself be the victim of impending sorrow by being around a guy like him?"

"he isn't that bad," you weakly defend though your voice comes out choked as you are fighting through hundreds of thoughts, having a hard time in deciding what to speak first and what not to in case it ends up revealing more then what you want to about you, "i know of his flirty nature, jun but he hasn't done any of that in front of me —"

"that's because you do not hang around him when he's with others, do you?" jun cuts you off and this time, you squeeze your interlocked hands as you tilt your head, eyes softening in a way to express your dissatisfaction at how easily he countered your measly defence.

"you only seem to — no, you prefer to spend time with him when no one else is around. i wonder why? is it because you know it too? that he isn't someone you should be around? just like nakayama?"

"i do not care about his suicidal tendencies —" you begin in a level headed voice, deciding to answer every question one by one and truthfully yet as vaguely as you could and your eyes immediately lower to stare at the table surface because you do not want to see how jun will react, it'll just haunt you later when you sit all alone in your bedroom and dread going to the bathroom for you'll see the bathtub there and it will turn your tongue bitter, "— actually, i don't even really notice them anymore since he just occasionally mentions them to me, you know the meaningless 'this was a method used in ancient china' or 'that was a method used in ancient japan', all that stuff. it doesn't really mean anything."

"he is actively trying to kill himself and you are ignoring it." jun says and offers you a sad smile as he sees it, so do you — the light from the ceiling seems to especially shine down on you and put you in the spotlight.

hypocrite.

the reason why you claim to feel so hurt and betrayed by hyun is because you deem him an hypocrite but you are one too and jun seems to think so as well so what half assed reason will your mind come up with now to try to defend yourself and seem as if you aren't at fault at all?

"jun, he's convinced he wants to kill himself," you slowly begin as the gears in your mind rotate at an impressive speed while dopamine is produced because you have come up with reason after reasons to defend yourself — be it the truth or lie.

slowly, you look up at jun and you want to hate yourself for feeling like smiling in victory, "will anything i do or say even have an effect? i am just afraid of him growing annoyed and distancing himself from me."

lie and then truth.

so the truth basically cancels out the lie, right?

the truth is, you have stood at the face of death and taken a step back from it so dazai wanting to kill himself isn't absurd to you at all and rather something you sympathize with. you understand he must have his reasons which he isn't willing to share with anyone and that's fine with you since you haven't really shared everything about yourself with him either.

you don't want him to kill himself but that's not your decision to make. it's his. you were influenced by him but the decision to not die was your own in the end — you realised this just a few nights ago.

no one has as much power over your mind like you do. people can only influence or be catalysts but the decision is yours to make in the end.

"he is your boyfriend, he won't distance himself from you —"

"love isn't guaranteed. if couples who had been married for more then thirty years can end up with a divorce then who are me and dazai? we have been in a relationship for barely a month." you shake your head with a weak smile wobbling on your lips. wobbling in the sense that you are afraid — what's the truth anymore?

you aren't sure. you really do not believe your reasons either. you are just a hypocrite in the end.

a fucking hypocrite, that's what you are.

your phone vibrates again and on instinct your eyes fall on it to find some sort of distraction from this tense conversation.

dazai osamu : if my professor doesn't stop talking and doesn't dismiss me in the next five minutes, i will slam my head hard against the cold glass surface of his table till my forehead is shattered and i die.

thump, thump.

oh. jun is wrong, you think, it isn't fair. he's only mentioning the bad traits of dazai and not the good ones.

he's your light bulb.

"i really like dazai. maybe it's because of his looks or whatever —" you begin again in a weak, almost wavering tone as this conversation is weighing down on you physically.

you aren't sure what's the truth and what's the lie anymore because while trying to convince jun, you are also trying to convince yourself to protect your mind from turning frantic and wondering about your actions.

shoulders slumping, you lean back against the chair as you continue to stare at dazai's message while your lips move on their own and words flow out freely yet tiredly as if your tongue is tired of holding itself, tired of watching and weighing every word before letting it out of your mouth, "— but recently he said some stuff to me which touched my heart greatly. he has been there for me in his own way so i don't care about anything else — jun," you look up to stare at the man from across you.

"dazai can come to me with his hands stained with someone else's blood and my first concern will be to make sure he's fine. i . . am not sure if i would've felt this way a few months back but i do so now. he has seen my ugliest parts and still smiled at me, he changed his habits for me —" like giving you a different nickname because you didn't want to be called belladonna. whatever the context and all may be, it doesn't change the fact that he changed it for you. sure, the nickname wasn't given with you in mind but the change came after you expressed your displeasure over it.

that's kindness in your eyes.

"he is nice to me, jun. nicer then anyone has been in the past few months – and i don't mean to offend you or anyone else when i tell this. he doesn't pity me but tries to understand me. he helps and reaches out but knows when to give me space —" like that time at the party where he knew something was wrong with you but didn't pry too much once you made it clear that you won't talk about it with him of all people. he didn't push you to open up but made sure you remain within his vicinity.

me : no, don't kys. you are too sexy hahaha.

you quickly type and send it to him as a small smile, less exhausted and more natural, takes over your lips as you decide to take a deep dive inside the ocean of flaws. the one where jun has probably seen dazai in many times.

looking at jun again, you continue, "dazai is suicidal, yes, but i actively distance myself from my friends when i feel like a burden and don't bother talking about my feelings with them. dazai is flirty by nature but i am rude and not a pleasant person to be around."

"don't say that —" jun tries to stop you from berating yourself but you shake your head to ask him to stop so you can continue.

"he's a bad guy but i am even worse. why do you hang around me, jun? isn't this the same as me being with dazai? you know what they are saying about me, don't you?" you pause to take a deep breath and pretend as if this all isn't killing you. you tighten the knots of your mask of nonchalance, "even the professors prefer to avoid me. so, why don't you? i am not good company to be around. i am afraid i will just drag you down too —"

"don't be ridiculous. those are just baseless rumours that idiots are spreading and believing. i know who you are so don't you dare sit here and pretend as if you know what's right for me and what's not. you aren't as bad as you make yourself out to be, i don't get why you think that about yourself. you are one of the best people i have ever met — have some mercy and go easy on yourself." jun nearly pleads as he hears you talk about yourself this way with such calmness, having paid only half a mind to whatever it is you were telling about dazai because he doesn't matter as much as seeing his best friend refer to herself in the same way he had punched countless idiots for doing so.

your heart squeezes in your chest and something uncomfortable spreads across your rib cage at his words, at his blatant trust in you — trust which you do not have in yourself. emotions of gratitude and exhaustion rush at a great speed towards your eyes and stay there in the form of a shiny layer of tears which you try to get rid of by blinking. you don't want to cry now.

not infront of jun. not infront of everyone in the library.

you raise your other hand to place it on top of your interlaced hands and squeeze it once, clearing your throat to let the emotions choking your throat know to make space so your voice could reach your mouth from your voicebox.

"then please have some mercy and go easy on dazai too. please? he isn't as bad as everyone makes him out to be."

"i have no problem with him personally," jun softly calls your name on seeing the way you clench your jaw to hold back emotions.

he places his other hand on top of yours and squeezes back to reassure you, "i just care about you — we all do, especially hyun. if dazai is a good person in your opinion then he is a good person in my eyes too, okay? i owe him one anyway for being with you."

his eyes lower to stare at your interlaced hands, "do you think none of us have noticed how lifeless you looked? give us more credit, we are your friends after all. we care about you more than you think we do. let us in too sometimes, okay? i don't know what you've been through and what you are going through but i will sit here and listen quietly if you want to share it with me. if not then that's fine too. just . . don't go too far away — don't go far from our reach. that's my only request."

your head lowers since you immediately understood his implications and it makes you wonder if you are that obvious. you feel naked and vulnerable so looking down is your way of protecting yourself.

staring at your phone which turns bright to show you dazai has sent you messages with a blurry vision, you purse your lips to muffle the sob that tried to leave, clenching your jaw tightly afterwards to make sure no other sound leaves your mouth.

jun doesn't speak but he tightens his grip on your hands, tilting his own head down as he closes his eyes which too, are filled with a violent storm of emotions.

the house, which has been empty and dark for months, finally experiences its second visitor (dazai being the first one). if dazai came inside the house and turned the lights on then jun stepped inside and tried to clean away the heavy and thick layers of dust, cobwebs and dirt.

alas it's still dirty, but still cleaner than before.

five minutes later, you whisper out in a trembling voice because your throat feels like it's burning, as if you swallowed some sort of harmful chemical.

"do you think i should talk to hyun?"

"that's your decision. if you want to, i am here to support you and if you don't want to? that's fine too. it's your decision if you want to resurrect your friendship or hear some kind of closure for it."

you nod, still staring down, still clenching your jaw tightly even if your teeth are tightly grinding against each other.

three more minutes pass before you take a deep breath and open your eyes — somewhat red yet devoid of tears now, pulling your hands back from jun's as you begin to grab your stuff to leave.

"thank you so much," you tell him in passing as you stand up, offering him a weak smile, "i mean it. i will try to be better now. thank you for not giving up on me."

"hear yourself. why will i — we, ever give up on you, hm? if you are trying to act cute by making such confessions then it isn't working. you have to be cute first for that." he doesn't let the atmosphere be tense anymore and makes sure that by joking, the air around you will relax since jun knows you don't speak with such vulnerability usually. it doesn't come easy to you to talk about yourself.

"you are so annoying." you giggle quietly behind your palm as you walk past him, lightly hitting him against the back of his head, "later, asshole."

"later, you pain in the ass."

you note the softness in his voice along with something fragile but you leave quickly before your brain can convince you to look back at him to see what expression he has on. your heart knows it already, he's probably trying to hold back emotions since it's been too long ever since the last time you joked around with him or any of them like this.

they have all noticed your stiffness around them the past few months but no one really spoke about it. probably because they felt guilty.

unlocking your phone as you leave the library to see dazai's messages, you don't really notice how light your steps are now compared to before. it's as if someone has loosened the chains around your legs which are connected to metallic spheres.

dazai osamu : die with me then so i won't die alone. we can die sexily if you want.

dazai osamu : oh, no reply? 💔 k I js KNOW you hate my guts and you want me dead.

dazai osamu : ik you will probably roll your eyes and walk past me if you see my unconscious and bloodied body on a street somewhere, leaving me to bleed myself to death.

dazai osamu : js know that i am risking my life here by texting you in between lectures, waiting patiently for your replies all just to get ignored. so cold, wow.

me : i was busy?? 😭😭

dazai osamu : k.

a chuckle leaves your lips as you immediately type back your reply, taking a turn to walk towards the staircase which will lead you to the ground floor.

me : oh no, are you angry? :((

me : such tragedy.

dazai osamu : hmm.

me : 😭😭 lmao fine, i am sooo sorry for being busy and not replying to you asap, your highness.

dazai osamu : if you are truly sorry then prove it by drowning with me.

me : bet.

dazai osamu : 🤰🤰 js got pregnant btw.

me : 😭😭🙏🏻 weirdo lmaoo.

dazai osamu : 💔💔 #ihatemybf final boss.

me : but i literally love you? 🥀

dazai osamu : when will you leave btw?

me : rn.

me : was gonna ask you that too. when will your lec end?

me : want your advice on smthg.

dazai osamu : in five mins. show me chivalry isn't dead by coming to my class to pick me up with a bouquet of red roses and your pretty self waiting for me.

me : i was otw loll minus the roses.

dazai osamu : gigging and kicking my legs in the air, tee hee.

passing through the male restrooms should've been easy and not worth mentioning as you pass by them many times on a single day without batting an eye since they are part of the norm by now (for they are on the way to the stairs along with other class rooms and so on),

except this time, someone walks out and your feet stop moving on their own as if the chains connected to the metal spheres suddenly decided you have too much freedom and tightened themselves around your ankle.

"yuto?" you call out before you could even realise, old habits getting the best of you as you catch a glimpse of the cut by his lips. it's small but extremely out of place — scars, bruises and blemishes have no right to exist on yuto's face which could be on every single billboard of the country.

he looks like he could walk into the set of any photo shoot and demand them to take his photos and use them instead of whatever model they were going for and the staff members would probably be convinced to abandon their well thought out plan if they get a good look at yuto's face.

the man had been looking down, adjusting the sleeves of his beige button down shirt but the moment his name leaves your mouth, his head snaps up in a way which makes you worry that he might have snapped his neck or some bone.

something slithers inside of your stomach but you can't identify what it is.

yuto breathes out your name as if he can't believe you are here and attempting to speak to him — which, in his defense, is valid.

you wouldn't have talked to him and probably would have increased your pace to avoid even looking at him had you not spotted the cut which prompts you to ask, "what are you getting yourself into?"

you aren't sure why you are asking this or why do you even seem to care, considering your last conversation with ango where you had bluntly stated you wanted to ruin yuto's public reputation.

you still do. there's anger lingering underneath every worried thought.

but some part of you still cares about him and as confusing as it is to explain this to yourself, you still come to a conclusion —expressing or speaking about something is one thing but actually executing them is another. especially when you are underprepared and already bothered by the uproar your emotions and thoughts are causing inside you.

yuto calls your name again but you cut him off sternly as you make your mind that if he doesn't answer this time then you'll walk away like you originally should've, "what are you getting yourself into, yuto?"

sighing, yuto raises his hand to rub at the cut on his lips. to either make it worse so you would pay him more attention or perhaps out of nervousness. maybe it's both.

upon closer look, the cut doesn't look fresh so he must've had it for some time now.

"a man who is starved since childhood will have passion and drive as well as the fear to not sleep on an empty stomach again but it doesn't necessarily mean his offspring will share the same feelings. unless they go through what the man has, they won't get to experience the uncomfortable situations life has to offer, they might not even be aware of it. in such a situation, is the ignorant man at fault or the privileged yet useless offspring?" yuto asks in cryptic words which do not sound that unusual to you since you are used to him speaking in this way.

he had once mentioned in passing that he speaks in riddles and arrangements of random words whenever he wants to share something personal or something which shouldn't be spoken of lightly in public to ensure that any extra pair of ears won't understand the context behind his words.

you have no sympathy for yuto usually, but sometimes you do feel bad for him because what has happened to him that makes him unable to speak about his feelings normally?

you shrug, not offering an answer like usual and it's sad that even if you are this nonchalant and unresponsive, yuto still looks at you as if you are hiding the solution to all his problems inside your closed palms.

"why did you walk away from my life? all this was somewhat bearable when i had you by my side." yuto confesses. his words transitioning from soft and helpless to sharp and cutting as he runs a hand through his hair, looking at you with accusation dripping from his eyes.

"you were harassing me, yuto. why would i stay?" you tilt your head, frowning as you genuinely try to clear the livid thoughts swimming in your head to try to understand yuto's perspective.

"what?" yuto blinks, surprised before he chuckles and shrugs, looking at you as if you have grown a second head or like a sober person would at someone who is laying in the middle of the road after getting high, "can you prove it?"

"huh?"

"if i am harassing you," yuto speaks slowly as if he's talking to a kid or someone far below him intellectually, "then surely you must have some sort of evidence to back your claims right? or are you just trying to defame my name for some sort of petty revenge?"

rage shrieks besides both of your ears. it's holding your head in place with both of its burning hands and forcing you to hear its mocking shrieks which hits your eardrums again and again violently. you can't even begin to fathom what's happening inside your chest to cause this burning ache that you are feeling.

you want to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms till they bleed or perhaps you will just move past yuko to approach the nearest wall and slam your head against it multiple times till your forehead is bruised and bleeding and you feel like your thoughts have mashed with your brain matter to produce the juice which flows down your temples along with your blood.

you do nothing except taking a few short yet quick breaths.

then, you part your lips and your voice is terrifyingly calm as you speak, "herodotus of halicarnassus is equally admired and hated — some call him the father of history while others deem him a liar. what will your consciousness refer to you as at the end of the day, yuto? when you strip yourself of your masks and faces and are forced to look at your reflection in the mirror — will it call you a victim whose actions are justified by trauma or will you be called a liar pitying himself to justify your actions?"

"herodotus was called so or so because of the evidence he provided about the histories. evidence." he draws out the word to make it sound more mocking, widening his eyes for the extra effect, "it's very important to have proof or evidence if you are going to be hostile to someone and blame them. do you have it?"

you don't. he knows it.

however if you continue to speak in such a manner for any longer, he will surely have evidence against you. he might already be recording your conversation without your knowledge.

life is this way. more often than not, the victim has to take a step back and get on their knees to apologise for feeling pain for whatever the predator had inflicted on them. this is the privilege the predator gets if he has a good standing in society, if he belongs to a good reputed 'class'.

because he who has been born into luxury isn't thought of when one thinks of someone covered in blood — after all, he who has everything just at a finger's distance should probably have no need to go out of his way to step down from his high pedestal and step into the moist ground which clings to the flawless skin of his feet, he shouldn't be walking towards the decaying corpse of an animal which is lying just a few steps ahead. the animal is another human of a lower social standing because it's not as educated, cultured or sophisticated as he is so might as well strip its identity and call it an animal.

but he does walk towards it and he tilts his head down to analyze the corpse. same heart, same blood seeping out of the wound which caused its death but still, they aren't the same for the man, the true human is standing while it is laying dead.

so he crouches down and extends his hands to turn the corpse sideways which causes it's already spilling out heart to fall on the ground with a soft thud. he picks it up and blinks, then uses his entire strength to squeeze it and when the remaining blood spurts out of the organ and droplets falls on his face, he lets out a gleeful chortle.

when pleasure and luxury simply isn't enough, pain and sadism comes strutting in, promising a new world of pleasure which not every man can enter. depravity and heinousness are the pillars of this world which, to a simple man, would seem like the closest human equivalent to hell. or perhaps its hell itself. not to the man, to him — to them, many of his kind, it's heaven on earth.

a heaven where angels commit crimes for them and where there's no God to dictate over them. they are the God themselves.

". . . exam season must've been putting me on edge. i apologise." you bow your head a bit while promising yourself that one step back today will ensure you take three steps ahead in the near or distant future.

yuto's lips part but before he could even exhale the air from his lungs, you begin to walk away.

evidence? evidence? what evidence? they'll discard or destroy it. no one will care. proof. it's as good as having it as it is to not have it. framing yuto is the only way. people are hyenas and vultures, they won't care for my story as much as they'll care if they see yuto bleeding. they'll circle him like vultures like they did to me. then why is everyone asking me for evidence? does no one believe me? evidence, evidence, evidence. i fucking hate it. i despise it. why don't i have evidence? why am i so incompetent? i should kill myself. there's no hope if there's no evidence. why have i been so dumb? am i really just overreacting? am i misunderstanding yuto's kindness for something else? am i the bad guy? who is the bad guy? if i had evidence then i would've known —

thoughts come to a halt as the door of the class opens and students swarm out of it in pairs and groups mostly, hindering you from walking aimlessly. you stop in the middle as you try to peer inside the class for some reason, not even noticing the way people walk past you while eyeing you.

which professor was giving a lecture here? what subject? which class? which year?

you aren't even sure why you are suddenly so curious about it but there's a fog inside your brain which is slowing down your thought process. you blink but it feels as if even this involuntary action is lagging in some manner.

dazai steps out of the class with a guy who looks somewhat familiar as if you've seen him somewhere before in passing.

you want to just walk past them and forget you were ever going to ask dazai for advice regarding hyun. but your feet remain rooted to the spot as if the metal spheres have melted and merged with the floor.

dazai chuckles at something the guy says — the artificial kind, and turns his head to spot you.

you observe the way his eyebrows raise slightly as if he's surprised that you actually came here which, in your opinion, isn't something to be shocked over as you think you stay true to your words and promises despite being a hypocrite.

thump, thump, thump!

dazai raises his hand to let the guy he's walking with know he isn't going to listen any longer — can't listen any longer when you are standing just out of reach. the surroundings have blurred and an itch begins to rise from the tip of his pinky finger, like someone's pulling on some sort of thread which he didn't know was wrapped around said finger.

he passes by people — some of whom he had talked to once or twice — but he doesn't see their faces. to dazai, everyone else except you seems to blend in with the surroundings.

he rubs his palms against the fabric of his jacket for no reason at all except it being a habit, suddenly gulping as walking had never been as harder as it's now, not even when he was shit drunk and completely off his senses and had to rely on chuuya to guide him back to his apartment.

"hey," dazai breathes out as soon as he stops in front of you and doesn't give you time to reply, extending his arms to wrap them around your waist, locking his wrists over the small of your back.

he then pushes you which makes you stumble a step ahead, feet bumping against his and thighs touching.

your eyes widen and a shuddering breath escapes you when dazai tilts his head so his lips are against your ear and whispers, "act. the guy with me is a friend of yuto's."

ah, no wonder he seemed familiar.

slowly, you raise your own hands to wrap them around his neck as you close your eyes to control your emotions — unsettled because of yuto, anger at your own self and temporary excitement caused by dazai — which collides with one another and tries to destroy the other two emotions to come out as the dominating one.

after a second or two, your fingers curl and straighten as you hesitate in doing whatever you want to.

please, choose me because no one else would, not even myself. i will do anything for you, i would kill myself too. why didn't you come to me . . ah, wait what am i thinking? why am i having these thoughts. there's no use. love can't be begged for.

"be free. do whatever you wish to with me. i won't stop you." whispers the man whose initial intention was to put on a convincing show for yuto's friend — that's why he called you here but the moment he saw you standing alone and looking so pretty, dazai's heart stuttered and tried to convince the brain to let it indulge in just a bit.

"now, how many women have you told this to?" you force yourself to ask and fully expect his answer to be one which will sober you up from the intoxication of his touch.

alas, he does exactly that.

"very few." dazai ends with a sigh as he feels you slowly begin to move your hand up and down his bandaged nape.

"and you are telling me this, why?" you know you shouldn't drag this on as by doing it you'll only hurt yourself but you can't help it because there's this cursed inkling of hope which screams against the obvious truth.

"such a foolish thing to ask," dazai chuckles, tightening his arms around you as he reminds himself that just two more minutes and then he'll let you go, "i simply want you to be comfortable around me."

"i am," you mumble, pressing your face against his shoulder and inhaling in whatever cologne he had borrowed from oda or ango or even the redhaired friend of his — it doesn't matter what or whose cologne it is since once it settled on dazai's body and mixed in with his scent, it became your favourite smell, "more then i should be."

"is it a bad thing?" dazai asks as he begrudgingly loosens his arms and takes a step back. one loss is replaced by a profit as dazai gets to stare at your face which is painted in shyness and drink in whatever expressions you make.

"for me? yeah. for you?" you offer a small smile but it shines so brightly that dazai feels as if something is holding his lungs hostage and not letting them perform their function.

unable to breathe, he can only stare at your face and feel the way you tap your fingers against his nape before pulling back completely, letting him experience a loss so great that he will ponder over it the entire night.

"for me?" dazai repeats your words to urge you to complete whatever you were going to speak.

"it's a good thing, probably? unless you don't want to get close to me." you joke, your smile still on your face as you wait for him to reciprocate it and go along or just react in a dramatic way — whatever he does, it'll have you laughing all the same.

you just didn't expect to see dazai look speechless for once. he almost looks shy as he nods on hearing your words, looking at your hands which are now at your side. he raises one of his own to grab and hold your hand while he runs his other hand through his hair.

thump, thump, thump!

"right. it's a good thing for me." dazai mumbles to you but you aren't sure if the nervousness in his voice is authentic or just for show.

he doesn't raise his hands to pat his face to check if the mask he usually wears with ease has loosened up or not because he can feel the threads holding the mask together loosening a bit.

you might be dazai's undoing.

he tugs at your hand as he turns around to lead you out of the building.

what you think is silence between you two is only because you can't hear his frantic heartbeat which is resonating through his entire body.

so, unaware of it, you decide to break the silence.

"if i was someone from your class and saw a couple hugging in the middle of the hallway, i would've been so pissed — i mean after a lecture, the last thing i want is to see a couple all in each other's faces." you giggle.

dazai forces his shaky hands to tighten his mask as he lazily grins, "good for you, i like pissing people.”

"good for you, i seem to piss people off even if i don't mean to." you laugh as dazai stops walking and turns to face you, grabbing your other hand so he can squeeze both of your hands.

"if you don't see this as a sign from the universe that we are meant to be then you must be blind. can't you see how compatible we are? the stars burn passionately to make sure we end up on this earth at the same time." dazai sighs dreamily as he sees your face brightening up with joy before you hide your face behind your wrists (as he's holding your hands,) to laugh loudly.

laugh, smile and even curse at him. for dazai, every one of your reactions evoked or aimed at him is as good as the fruit which fell on this earth from paradise.

"you are so — poetic," you wheeze, raising your head to look at him for just a second before hiding your face again to laugh freely.

"even someone who is usually bad with words couldn't help himself but dedicate sentences upon sentences of love filled confessions to you if they ever see you for even half a minute —" dazai tightens his grip on your hands and pulls, pulling you into his arms again as he quickly lets go of your hands to wrap them around your waist and hips again, "can i really be blamed for being poetic when it's you who appears as if you are a gift given to humanity from higher beings? like a painting created by the most skilled painter and presented to lousy, old me as if i can ever be worthy of ever holding you?"

"but you are holding me?" you point out, amused as you wrap your arms around his neck again. this time the action comes more naturally to you.

so gleeful, you are, that you do not notice the two pairs of eyes watching you from all the way across the yard where you and dazai had stopped. your back is turned to the duo and dazai pretends they are invisible to him.

humming, it's dazai who hides his face against your shoulder, rubbing his cheek against it as he answers your jest, "and may the Gods above forgive me for stepping out of line but i am just a sinner. how can i not let myself indulge in you for a bit when you look like you are everything i ever dreamt of?"

it's dangerous, you realise. him flirting with you this way is giving you false hope. you had forgotten his nature and habits for a second as you listened to him 'swooning' over you and had mistaken them for truth.

his arms around you suddenly feel less like your sanctuary and more like a prison you are trapped in but you don't push him away or create distance. you just force yourself to stay in his arms so you could engrave just how dangerous he is for you in your mind and body.

dangerous he is because he made sure that someone as observant as you will not realise that you two are being watched. he pulls back once he sees the fleeting shadows of the two people as they make their way to the nearest building.

yuto's friend had probably messaged others about seeing you and dazai together and the ones who were already lounging in the yard had perked up the moment they saw you and him walk out together.

to hug you and laugh with you while acting as if he doesn't know of the eyes watching them is dazai's method of planting seeds in the soil and watering the sapling that grew.

speaking of, the seeds had been planted in secret and he would reveal it to you now.

his phone ringing in his pocket is the signal or the sound of the drum which one hears before the start of a war in ancient times.

"right. i need you to come with me to the alley in between the bar and coffee shop. the ones on the end of the street?" dazai elaborates on the location since he is sure you must not frequent this area anymore because of yuto and his friends.

he is right.

you squint your eyes to try to remember if you know what place he is talking about, shaking your head at him as you realize you must've probably not gone there even when you were living here in the dorms just a street away.

"it's fine, i will take you. you trust me, right?" he jokes to lighten the mood or any nerves you might be feeling because he knows his sudden request must've thrown you off guard.

"you won't kidnap me, right?" you tease in a faux nervous tone, giggling again as you see him point his index finger at his face which wears a dramatically shocked expression.

"i couldn't even hurt a fly!" he gasps, beginning to lead you to the alley for a reason which is unknown to you but it doesn't raise alarms in your head at all since it's dazai and you trust him even if there's a small part in you which warns you constantly that this decision might hurt you but it's just your paranoia.

couldn't even hurt a fly, huh? you recall dazai's last words as you step inside the alley with him and see the sight waiting for you two at the end of this narrow yet long alley way.

your steps are careful and silent as opposed to dazai's confident and quick ones — this explains your dynamic too in some ways, you muse to yourself.

at the very end of the alley, the beaten up body of a man is slouched against the bricked wall and in front of him stands two thugs — you are sure of their occupation because of the way they are standing, in a rowdy fashion and the tattoos decorating their limbs and faces.

how does dazai know these people? is a thought that's beginning to cloud your mind urgently since no normal person usually has connections to thugs randomly, right?

perhaps they do? life is strange anyway. don't be so quick to judge him without knowing or even trying to understand his circumstances. they could be acquaintances or anything and even if he knows them, what's it to me? he knows yuto too so why's it unusual if he knows thugs too? you scold yourself.

you slow down to let dazai walk ahead of you. he doesn't mind it but you know he has noticed it as he glances at you discretely before taking a larger step ahead to be in front, understanding your suspicions and fears. for this, you are grateful to him. it's small actions like this which you value a lot.

"dazai-san," both the men nod their head and it's weird to see two men who look bulkier and stronger than dazai looking at their feet as if they can't or are afraid to make eye contact with him.

it makes you question who he is again since it's clear who holds the authority here — the younger man who is pretending to be your boyfriend to help you out.

"thank you!" compared to the serious atmosphere, dazai's cheery voice stands out, "you two certainly have been a big help to me! consider your favours nearly paid."

you shouldn't have paid as much attention as you did to his last few words. the mystery behind dazai's acquaintance with these thugs is clear at least, they owe him favours. what he did to have literal thugs be indebted to him is none of your problem and you will not waste your time and develop a headache by dwelling on it.

its funny how the two men seem to be similar to you in demeanor — all three of you are nervous or anxious. except dazai.

he's always the exception, isn't he?

he seems to be able to do what shouldn't be physically possible in most cases. this might be one of his charms too.

the two men bow as soon as dazai stops speaking and you could see the relief on their faces at not having to spend another minute near dazai any longer. they haven't even acknowledged you at all, not even when they scramble past you to leave the alley and be far, far away from dazai.

"what was that?" you ask, looking over your shoulder to see their backs getting smaller and smaller the more they walk away, not running away any longer as they are at a safe distance from dazai.

but does anyone know how far you have to be from dazai to be considered safe?

"hm? they owed me favours." he shrugs as he looks back at you with a small smile, appearing indifferent to the nearly unconscious man and his pained breaths which you can hear more clearly now as you have taken two steps ahead to be next to dazai.

why do you know thugs? you decide not to ask this after all and instead, "where did you even find them, dude?" you mutter, curiously eyeing the man in front and wondering why there's a layer of apathy in dazai's eyes as he's staring at the same sight as you.

"uhh, two streets away, there's a club. normal looking and it is normal for the most part but everything appears normal at first glance. if you go to the bartender and order a specific drink, he will give you a ticket — a piece of crumbled paper which is not that impressive looking. it's a deceiving sight because once you obtain that paper, you walk straight to the bouncers who are guarding the stairs which go up to the first floor."

while dazai speaks about the club which is already raising alarms in your mind, you take this time to carefully observe the man who doesn't seem that older than you two.

"you take the ticket to the bouncer who will look at it and nod as if granting you permission. he will lead you around the stairs towards the space between the wall and the staircase where there's a narrow door. he will use his key to open it and show you the staircase that leads to the basement. if you descend those steps, you'll end up at the underground bar which is just a friendly term to refer to the hub where you can demand services from thugs if you pay them good enough. drugs, weapons and stolen arts are sold and bought like it's normal. those people owe me." dazai shrugs as he completes his explanation and despite how grim the topic is, his voice remained light and cheerful, almost delighted even as he told you about it all. as if he didn't expose one of the tiny dark holes of the underground to you.

greedily you listen to the information pouring out of his lips even if fear is clinging to you like a child whose lips quiver when she realises her mother isn't listening to her and will force her to step forwards and take a step into the big, unfamiliar world. for, even if fear is attached to your hip as dazai reveals a new side to himself, your heart is naive and stubborn and doesn't want to be afraid of dazai of all people. not anymore. not him after he has done so much for you.

so, you decide to focus on the man. there's a cut going across his eyebrow and upwards on the left side of his face and the blood from said cut is dripping down like heavy rain does from windows of the bus you frequent and depend on for transport. his right eye is swollen and there are many cuts littered on the lower half of his face ranging from the bruise which is growing a darker shade on his cheekbone to the cuts on his nose and the one above his lips which makes his upper lips swell up too.

you grimace, heart clenching anxiously at the sight and the sound of his pained breaths and quiet sobs.

your own eyes begin to grow moist as well but you blink quickly to not let the injured man's face move you away. you need to trust dazai. he won't order someone to beat up an innocent man.

dazai seems like the person whose heart doesn't beat without permission from him. he knows what he is doing so you have to put your faith in him and trust him.

"is this too much for you?" dazai's voice softens and you look at your side to see he's already staring at you with perhaps regret in his eyes. shaking your head, you do little to convince or reassure him as he continues, "i am sorry. i shouldn't have assumed you'll be fine with violence. are you scared of me now?"

"i don't think you are a bad guy anymore." your words are a direct call back to your conversation with him that night.

dazai's lips quirk up but it isn't a smile of relief, that much you can tell as you stare at his face and try to put your fingers on the lines forming between his perfectly crafted mask.

"i am not sure if i should call you bold or optimistic." dazai forces himself to chuckle soon after the words leave his mouth in a quiet and somber tone.

he doesn't let you dwell on it any longer or allow you to question his words and reactions as he gestures to the beaten up man, turning to face him.

dazai takes two steps ahead to stand between the man's almost limp legs at which you glance only now to notice the stamps of shoes all over his pants. it won't be a surprise for you if those thugs ended up dislocating one or both of his kneecaps.

"this is the face behind that unknown number who was sending you messages a week ago," he reveals as he crouches down, grabbing the man's chin harshly between his thumb and index finger to turn his face from one side to the other as he shows disregard to the pained whimpers escaping the man, "though i must admit, for someone who was texting you all that shit, he doesn't look as crude or impressive now."

your first thought isn't of anger or anything related to the man.

but how do you know? how did you find him?

sensing your eyes are on him and not on the culprit, dazai tilts his head back to offer you a smirk. the blackness in his heart is like the waves during a high tide, threatening to swallow his heart fully. it's akin to a gleeful child whose efforts are finally about to be noticed by the adult they idolize.

except you aren't the adult he idolizes and he isn't excited to see you notice his efforts. he is curious to see your reaction after you realise the extent he is ready to go to to achieve something, not giving a damn about morals and legality.

"i know a guy who is an exceptional hacker. he also happens to be exceptionally bad at socializing —" his lips spread to show his teeth which are sharp and glinting. to him, he isn't smiling in pride but baring his teeth like a monkey who is threatened, "— i happen to be good at it. he owes me a favour and i had asked him to find the owner of the number."

"wait — you mean you had memorized the number? i barely showed it to you for a few minutes." you gasp, taking a step ahead involuntarily.

dazai blinks once, staring at you as if you are the unreasonable here before he lets out a confused, ". . uh yeah?"

"you are insane."

but you might be insane as well, dazai thinks in amusement as he watches you take another step forwards so you are standing beside him.

he watches your eyes shift from him to the man, the friendly glint in them dims like how the flame of a candle does once the warmth produced by a group of people leaves as they walk away and the lone candle is left to fight off the strong freezing breezes itself.

"he's the one?"

"he's the one." dazai repeats in confirmation as his grip on the man's chin tightens in warning, "say, mister? will you be a dear and cooperate with us or do i need to break another bone of your's to show you what happens when you poke your nose into business which doesn't concern you at all?"

you pretend as if dazai's words and the change of his tone isn't making your skin crawl in terror as well.

you catch the way he curls his fingers so his nails could dig into the man's skin and resist the urge to glance at dazai.

the man lets out some sort of gibberish along with his sobs and you forget the messages he had sent you and that he's probably one of your faceless 'bullies' too because something about hearing a grown man choke on his sobs because of his fears is just so sad and it hits you hard because you have been in this position too, you have also spent hours in the bathroom stalls, choking on your own sobs.

but who's to say dazai hasn't been through anything like this too?

you glance at him just as he does so and a silent jolt runs through you as you understand what he's doing.

you mimic dazai and crouch down to be able to look at the man eye to eye while dazai shifts away to give you space, you raise and place your hand over dazai's to pull his hand away from the man's chin.

"don't," you tell softly yet loudly so the man could hear too.

it made sense for his personality to do a complete one-eighty when he looked at the man because the man doesn't really deserve kindness. he's getting what he signed up for when he had sent you those messages but the moment you decided to think about the switch a little bit deeply, you realised he's using the oldest trick in the book — good cop, bad cop.

a technique used in all kinds of interrogation rooms where one person of authority acts as a sympathetic, kind figure and the others pick up a more aggressive or colder and calculated approach.

this is why dazai is dangerous. his seemingly deserving actions seems to hide another meaning which if you aren't sharp enough to catch, will remain hidden forever.

"but —" now that you know what approach dazai has been hinting at the entire time, you can notice the hidden amusement in his voice and you make sure to not glance at his face even by mistake or else you'll end up bursting into fits of giggles.

"he's already bruised, dazai. go easy on him," you purposely look at the man's spread legs between which you and dazai are crouching and frown, "he might already be suffering from a dislocated kneecap. let's not make it worse."

you just wanted to scare the guy but tears began to overflow from his eyes and fell down his cheeks and oh, this is even better.

the man raised his bruised and scarred hands to place them on your hand which is the nearest to him as a mixture of choked sobs and words leaves his lips. he's trying to speak amidst the emotions choking him.

you place your other hand on top of his as you nod, hoping the smile on your face appears kind enough to console him, "don't worry mister, i already called an ambulance —"

pretending to hesitate, you look down as you purse your lips before looking up again to speak in a quieter tone, "but have i done something to you, mister? why did you send me those messages?"

"i am sorry — i am so sorry. i am truly sorry —" his words finally begin to make sense as he begins to cry loudly like a child, his hands are shaking from the intensity of his cries, "— please forgive me. i-i didn't — i am sorry — i didn't know why i did it."

"did what?" you make sure your voice sounds confused as you press on his words.

"belittling you. i am sorry — i am sorry, i didn't know why i did that — why did i let them influence me and think it was just harmless fun?" he closes his eyes and begins to wheeze while crying, "please forgive me, i was just going along with the trend. i am sorry. i am truly sorry. i am really sorry."

"who —"

"i am sorry. please forgive me. i will never do this again to anyone. i am sorry." he continues to repeat between his sobs, caught up in a crossroad between his guilt and fear. he has nowhere to run (literally and it's not as if he can physically get up now and run away) and so, he ended up breaking down.

ah, he can't answer anymore, you realise and so, your little act comes to an end.

you slowly pull your hands back from the man's and in his turmoil, he doesn't even seem to notice you doing so.

turning your head to look at dazai, your heart skips a beat as you find him already staring at you. he raises his eyebrows and you swear a simple action isn't supposed to look so hot and clearly not in a situation like this and makes you recall the kiss you shared with him just a week ago.

you shrug in response, gaze falling on his lips which felt just right the last time they were pressed against yours. dazai notices your gaze and quietly chuckles, mouthing, “later?”

your entire body burns as the blood inside you isn't sure where to flow first.

dazai doesn't mind your inability to provide an answer to his playful teasing and instead, he stands up and offers his hand to you.

thump, thump!

you slowly raise and place your hand on top of his bandaged one, mesmerized for a moment at how effortlessly he curls his fingers around your hand and tugs at it to pull you to stand up.

you do not glance at the man again as dazai begins to lead you out of the alley and towards the bus stop. you aren't trying to exaggerate but you swear you can feel your heartbeat pounding in your veins too. can dazai feel it too?

"so when is your imaginary ambulance coming?" he teases and with a chuckle, you drop your head against his shoulder, too exhausted by today's events and also because you just want to be close to him.

there's this hot urge to make sure you are maintaining some sort of skin to skin contact with him. this urge is running up and down your veins spread throughout your body.

"never. i hope someone finds him. if they don't then it's fine too. he's not exactly an innocent guy . . . you know, dazai?" you suddenly begin and he hums, letting you know he is listening.

dazai isn't sure if you are noticing it as well but your steps are in sync with his and it's something he is finding oddly intimate at this moment. the fact that even your bodies are moving in harmony must mean something so perhaps it's a good thing that you aren't noticing it. maybe he wants you to notice it.

he wants you to look at your synchronized steps and grow flustered but this thought disappears from his mind as soon as it appears because maybe it's better this way. the less you notice about him when it comes to you, the better it'll be to pull out a few lousy excuses and tie them together to form a lie which will be like a wall to create distance between you both once he's done his part in helping you. still, his thoughts wander.

how can you be so blind to think i do not care about you when even my body is breaking its usual walking habits to walk along with you, to make sure each of our steps ends and starts together. how can you even think i don't notice you when even my body isn't immune to you? how can i be sure that my heart isn't getting affected then?

"i just realised fear really strips a man down to his most vulnerable state. it makes him behave like a child —" you pause to think of words which will help to easily convey your thoughts, not realising the way dazai's eyes avert to stare down at your face, "— children are very sensitive to affection and kindness no matter who it comes from. to them the smile of a killer is no different then that of a teacher's. that man in the alley was still in aftershock from being beaten up and the terror you caused in him. so, the moment i showed him some kindness, he began to cry like a baby. he probably thought i was some sort of protector."

"the relief you brought him along with his own shame and guilt moved him to tears. to see the person who he mindlessly belittled for some sort of 'trend' be the one to step in at such a threatening moment in his life and offer comfort was too much for his consciousness. after all, the punishment starts as soon as one commits a crime of any scale, it begins in the form of mental anguish." dazai adds to your words but the satisfaction which travels down your stomach on realising that you two are probably thinking of the same thing is so much louder, it demands your attention more than dazai's melodic voice which is making his honey dipped words dance to its melody.

then, the melody stops all of a sudden and a heavy silence settles near your ears. his words, especially the 'trend' one made you recall what the man has confessed. piece after piece joins each other to form a vague picture in your mind.

"who is that man, anyway? related to yuto?" you ask, not wanting to give him any half formed observations.

dazai squeezes your hand again like he's been doing the entire time during your walk.

"not really. a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of yuto's."

you furrow your eyebrows, staring at dazai. he stares back and blinks.

". . . yes?"

"uh, nevermind that," you chuckle at how absurd this man is, "but he is loosely related to yuto, after all."

"indeed, he is. yuto might be the most impressive person in his friend group so it isn't a surprise that secondary and tertiary social circles of his friends talk about him too. which means?" dazai pauses to let you continue ahead and you almost feel like you are talking to a professor who had laid the basics of a problem in front of you and had told you about a few extra stuff and is now waiting for you to join them or find the common context behind them and use it to solve the problem.

he's doing exactly that, isn't he?

"which means one of two things ; one, either these other social groups have heard about me and yuto and concluded that if they can pressurize me into 'getting back' with yuto then they'll enter his good books, or two, they see me as some sort of punching bag or spectacle. um, it's like the people who are jealous or don't like yuto can like, target their anger towards me or maybe they are just, you know, brainless idiots who are seeing their friends do this shit to me and just wanted to join in the fun."

"i will hunt down every single one of them and make sure they apologise to you." the sudden serious tone he uses while promising you of something that you deem impossible, makes your heart beat to fasten yet again.

tilting your head up to stare at dazai with unconcealed disbelief for the first time, your eyes wander all over his face from the way his eyelashes curl delicately to the way his lips aren't curved up at all to form a smile which will let you know he is saying all this for the sake of comforting you, for superficial reasons.

the possibility of dazai osamu feeling anger on your behalf is touching the delicate parts of your soul after which a sweet sort of poison is injected right into your brain. this leads to all sorts of happy hormones bubbling up inside you.

heat rushes up your neck as you immediately realise he's being serious in actuality. your eyes move down to stare at his neck which seems so delicate and frail, especially since he has bandages wrapped around the length of it, since you aren't sure if you'll be able to maintain eye contact with him without melting into a puddle by his feet and following his shadow.

you will be content if you could get the chance to walk next to his shadow for eternity because walking next to the actual him is just wishful thinking in an acute reality.

"thank you. for everything that you are doing. you don't have to but still you do and for this, i will always be thankful to you —"

"if i don't help my girl, then who will, ma cherie?" he had said these words before too, if you recall correctly, but every time he speaks so makes you feel like if he won't hold your hand with the next step you take then you might just begin to float towards the clouds.

kindness it may be or it may be something more — you don't even care at this point since you'll enjoy them all the same. his attention is the sweet poison and you have tasted it, so how can anyone expect you to go on about your day anymore and not think of the sharp sweetness stinging your senses and wanting to have more of it?

the bus stops in front of you two and the sound of the doors opening is usually a norm for you as you've heard it countless times till now. on early mornings and days where you get exhausted, you have cursed at this loud sound and sometimes even hissed in irritation but for some reason, the sound doesn't really affect your ears this time. it's still loud but tolerable and distant.

dazai leads you up the steps of the bus but you can't feel the floor beneath your shoes. neither do you feel the poke as you bump into the seats while following dazai who takes the seats near the very back, leaving the seat near the window free for you.

your hip brushes against his knee as you move past him and sends shock waves through your body.

as you settle in your seat and look at dazai who is slouching on the seat, the chatter and laughter of the people around you two reaches your ears and makes you blink because you didn't even notice the others.

ah, that's it.

around dazai, nothing else matters. people blur into the surroundings and everything feels numb because he's the most brilliant star in your orbit. there may be a moon, a sun, and even other planets. but you do not care because none of the other celestial bodies can even amount to a speck of your favourite star's flames.

"you are like a star." you mumble out, head leaning against your seat as you stare at him.

dazai turns his head to face you, eyebrows raised and an unfamiliar smile rests on his lips, "because they burn?"

"because calling you a mere light bulb is wrong. it's underappreciating your value in my life." you look away quickly out of shyness and because of the inner serenity you are feeling.

your head faces the window again and time pauses the moment your eyes meet purple ones. it's an intense purple which hypnotizes the watcher and the deep sorrow found in them makes you curious about who he is, what his story is and if there is anything you could do to make the doleful look in his eyes disappear for even a little while.

someone might as well have pierced their way through your chest and stolen your heart. that's akin to the emptiness you feel. your limbs feel too heavy and your bones feel heavier. it's as if your muscles won't be able to handle and support the weight of your bones anymore and will begin to tear the moment you try to lift yourself up.

alas, that's exactly what you do. pushing despite the excruciating numbness, you sit up straight but fate seems to be walking in a direction opposite to yours as the bus begins to move and warns you to not blink unless you want to miss the forlorn figure of the man.

the man continues to stand inside the bus stop and smiles just as he begins to disappear from your window and gets replaced by the moving scenery.

oh, again? you find yourself thinking as the sight the mysterious man has left you feeling despondent for some reason.

a person often hates their own art because it's clear they created it. remnants of the person are all over their art. art is used to express emotions. and sell it when art doesn't remain art but becomes a product.

a chef who works at a busy restaurant cooks the same dish perhaps almost a hundred times daily, so when does art stop being a source to express your emotions and become a loop from which one can't escape from?

art is everywhere but sadness is everywhere too. it fills you up to the brim and threatens to overflow. you are just so miserable that you fear passing on this despair to others and maybe that's why you are so alone.

you miss the man, the random stranger you met who uttered the title of the painting you searched on your phone and are staring at now.

you are the clown. the miserable clown but you can't console even yourself so how can you compare yourself to the one depicted in the painting who is trying his best to comfort the boy?

"i draw too," a voice you know very well at this point speaks amidst the silence and you whip your head to the side to see dazai leaning down to stare at the drawing on your phone.

thump, thump.

"how did you come inside so quietly?" you ask as you can still feel the warm breath leaving his mouth and hitting your earshell when he speaks to you.

standing properly, dazai simply grins as if him creeping inside your (well, technically it is his bedroom) room near midnight is completely casual. it isn't but you aren't going to point it out because it makes you happy he's here. it felt lonely without him.

the room felt too cold and foreign anyway so to have its owner stand in front is helping you feel more at ease. or maybe this is the lie your brain is feeding you to explain the dopamine rush you are feeling.

your eyes can't help but scan him from top to bottom to take in the loose black t-shirt and grey sweatpants he is wearing, it makes him look so domestic. the kind of guy you picture during lonely and cold nights to cuddle you. the kind of imaginary boyfriend one dreams of.

"skills." he winks

thump, thump.

"are you planning to be a thief?" you joke to deflect the effect his wink has on you, not letting the atmosphere stay serious at all because if you joke around then your mind won't think anything special of the wink because really there is no ulterior meaning behind it.

you know dazai, you know his behaviour. winking is not out of the norm for him. you really shouldn't be reading too much into it — no one should be reading too much into dazai osamu unless they are ready to lose their mind after staring at the void of nothingness which are his eyes.

"did i steal your heart?" he asks.

he is such a cruel man, isn't he?

to this question, he knows the answer just as well as you so you force an awkward laugh to float between you two before you shrug, "you tell me, did you?"

"not yet." dazai whispers more to himself than you and smiles as he waves his phone in front of your face, "not until we take a couple’s photo to update our profile pics."

"that's so cringey." you groan as you shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows to express your distaste. you think he is suggesting this to pull your leg or he might just like seeing your blinking pattern slow down at his words. he must find joy on seeing the slightest shift in your jaw and chin and he must adore how your voice comes out breathless as if panicked and quick, as if you urgently want to defend yourself.

"to be cringe is to be free. haven't you heard of that?" dazai mockingly tuts and kneels down in front of you. is this another test he is putting you through but you like it anyway, so does it matter?

thump, thump, thump.

"we don't need everyone knowing about our 'relationship'! that's so unnatural!" your voice which you wish to sound natural and casual wavers as you stare down at him as if you realised he is seeing through your act. is he peeping beyond the fragile cracks in your mask?

he always does this, doesn't he?

always makes your heart beat faster and then leaves you flustered and alone to handle your excited heart.

"no, it isn't –" dazai snickers as he grabs your knees to pull your legs apart, inching between them and you purse your lips to resist the urge to gasp at the sudden action.

it's not erotic or romantic or hot at all — it's just dazai being himself and enjoying your shaken form. he does this with everyone so it's not like you stand out from the crowd he walked past after leaving them in similar but more intimate situations.

he might be snickering but his eyes are shining intensely with something that tells you to not be fooled into thinking he is joking, "— when i fall in love, i will make sure everyone knows who that amazing person is who got me tripping on my knees."

oh, okay.

'person' he uses because he isn't sure who he will fall for which means currently there is no one to inhabit his heart. which means you are right when you think your heart is being delusional and mind even more so when it tries to convince you there's something special between you.

there never was. not when he slept next to you and not now, as he kneels in front of you.

your hand trembles and along with it so does your phone before you turn it off after glancing at the painting of the clown and the boy for the last time. this might be your second rejection from him but oh, this one pains so much more because it's unintentional yet so clear.

so blinded by your own hurt, you don't see the obvious telltale sign of dazai averting his eyes to stare at the wall behind you on feeling hurt that you weren't able to see past his lie. he won't tell anyone when he falls in love because the less people know, the more his love is guaranteed to stay within close distance. it doesn't matter if no one will see the bounce in his steps or the way his suicidal jokes get more casual and meaningless, it doesn't even matter if the one he loves can't decipher the confession behind his eyes because as long as he knows, it's enough.

"and . . when i fall in love, i will try my best to hide my love as much as i can." you whisper, ignoring the way he tightened his grip on your knees as he is forced to face the glaring similarity between you both.

"why?"

"what do you mean?" you tilt your head and try to decode the reason behind his sudden frown. why's he frowning when you are the one who should be crying?

"is your love something to be ashamed of? is it why you don't won't anyone knowing it?" please say yes and tell him you two aren't similar at all, confirm his thoughts that he's not the type anyone would fall in love with proudly. that whoever fell for him must've been the victim to the cruel joke of fate.

please go on and validate him that he is right and has always been right, that he is the only 'creature' among humans with his ugly hands hiding underneath his bandages and ugly heart hiding beneath his muscles and skin.

but how can you confirm these words when loving him feels almost sacred in the alter of fire which is your brain?

"the one i love is an amazing man who is on a higher caliber. i want to hide him away from everyone and keep him all to myself. but i can't hide someone like him who shines brightly wherever he goes and attracts people like light does to moths. so it's better to hide away my vulnerable love for him. i am not the only moth he attracted after all. what do you think?"

"let's take our pictures?" dazai breathes out as something uncomfortable pricks at his skin and he eases his grip on your knees just a bit, desperately wishing you will understand his obvious hints and change the conversation.

you don't understand how he can proceed with this if even talking about this topic physically disturbs him. he is such a hypocrite but so are you to continue this charade with him where you aren't sure where the lies begin or the truth ends.

"subtle." you whisper, somehow not having the energy to speak the entire thing but he nods, getting what you mean anyway.

"you don't want me in your picture? i am not that bad looking." he teases.

"you aren't. not at all." you whisper honestly. it doesn't matter if he was trying to lighten the mood or joking around like he always does because the possibility of someone — even if it's dazai himself — calling or suggesting dazai isn't crafted by the most talented hands, as if the one who created dazai isn't envied by michelangelo himself, doesn't sit right with you.

dazai doesn't really reply. he just turns around and his hair covers his eyes so the crumbled look in them is hidden from you.

"what about this? i will sit between your legs and like we can take a picture where it won't show either of our faces?" he asks and tilts his head back to finally bless you with his face which wears a smile. typical yet not really at the same time.

you absentmindedly nod, not looking away from the curve of his lips as you try to figure out what seems different about his smile tonight.

dazai doesn't look away either, he continues to stare at your eyes which are fixated on his mouth and raises his hand to flick your nose, teasing you, "am i that handsome that you can't look away from me?"

"yeah." it comes out breathless but not panicked like your usual answers whenever he is successful in poking your wound. no, your voice is soft now, bordering on adoring even.

this makes something in dazai's stomach to drop. he doesn't do this often. doesn't like being the centre of someone's adoration.

sexual attraction is familiar to him, amuses him. romantic one just makes him wish to jump from the nearest building he could find.

"careful, you flatter me alot." he speaks quietly and looks down at his phone before raising it to try to capture the best angle where the top of his head and your upper torso are the only parts of you both visible.

"i don't do flattery, dazai." you use his name rarely but whenever you do, dazai feels some violent sort of shiver travel down his spine and settle at the very tip of his toes and it makes him feel as if he is floating on clouds or chained to the bottom of a deep hole, there's no in between.

he doesn't bother answering, knowing if he does then whatever this is will just continue. flirting is fun only when he initiates it because then he knows his intentions aren't serious and it's all for fun and entertainment but when someone else flirts with him first and he goes along with it, even he is uncertain if the other person knows that he doesn't mean it on a literal level.

saying that, dazai osamu thinks he is too far gone now. you had somehow stepped inside his circle which only a handful of people managed to step in like chuuya and oda and perhaps, ango too.

dazai usually studies the person if they happen to be crying around him while offering practiced and automatic comforting words but the mere thought of you crying in front of him makes something inside dazai crumble. he doesn't think he can study the way your eyes fill with tears or the furrow of your eyebrows if you ever happened to cry in front of him. he wouldn't be able to figure out why his stomach drops or why his chest tightens because the sight of tears in your eyes will be enough to steal the breath just as it's travelling down his windpipe.

"is this subtle enough?" there's no change of pitch in his voice nor is there any change in his facial expressions which could give away that he's affected. but he is and he knows it.

thump thump.

you hum in rhythm with the thumping of your heart as you rest your cheek against the top of his head on impulse. lazily, you put up a 'v' sign with your fingers next to your eye so that the lower half of your face is hidden by your hand but your eyes are visible.

"oh? we aren't going for subtlety anymore?" he teases.

"i just think this pose is cool." you mumble quietly, not sure if you believe this reason yourself despite it being true — you do look cool right now but the impulse to act on this pose came from the reckless need to use this position as an excuse to be close to him. and perhaps because you finally realised what was different about that smile of his. it was softer than usual.

that must mean something, right?

he hums and clicks the picture. then turns the camera to the side a bit to get a new angle and does it a few times until he has four or five pictures with the same pose yet different angles.

"you seem to have an eye for art." you tell as you sit straight while he lays his head on your thigh and scrolls through the picture in a way which lets you see his phone screen too. he seems to have an eye for different angles and perspectives so either he just takes a lot of pictures or he has been interested in art at some point in his life. it's the latter mostly since he did say he draws too when he first came inside the room.

"told you, i draw too." dazai doesn't look up as he scrolls between two pictures to try to see which one is better.

"hobby or passion?"

"what's the difference?" he snorts.

you shrug, hesitating for a minute before you let your hand run through his hair as you formulate your reply, "hobbies usually create passion but passion doesn't always make it out of the sphere of interest or turn into a hobby —"

you pause to think a bit more on how can you explain your thoughts more clearly while dazai looks up with raised eyebrows, clearly interested in knowing your perspective, "— to put it more simply, you might develop passion for a simple hobby you picked up, but not always does a person turn their passion into their career path. or something like that, i am not sure."

you laugh in embarrassment but dazai doesn't join you as he doesn't seem to find anything funny in this like you do.

he just nods and looks down at his phone screen again, smiling to himself, "you are kind of right."

"oh?" you blink and nod before you smile quietly to yourself, not knowing why you are getting so happy that he seems to agree with your opinion.

you are really far gone, aren't you?

he leaves after half an hour where you two engage in meaningless conversations and after you two have changed your profiles — you had kept the photo where you two are in the frame while he had cropped it a bit so only you are visible in the frame.

you find this once he left your bedroom and closed the door behind him.

thump thump.

"is this why he was taking pics with different angles?" you ask yourself, smiling so big that your cheeks are beginning to ache.

laying down on the bed, you cover your face with the nearest pillow you could find and try not to squeal, allowing yourself to not overthink this moment and just relish in the glee.

tomorrow morning, maybe you will try to pick up the cracks of your broken heart and cringe at how you are behaving right now, maybe you will curse at him and more at yourself for thinking so much of such a simple interaction but tonight you will sleep with a satisfied heart and mind filled with dazai and thoughts surrounding him.

tomorrow you may be a naive, dumb idiot but tonight you feel the most special you have felt in a long while.

someone painted dazai's bedroom in light yellow — you think the moment you come out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth and combing your hair to look more presentable.

in front of his nightstand is the window which you had opened the moment you woke up fifteen minutes ago and you are glad that you did it as shy rays of sunlight keeps on making their way through the window to lay all over the bed and the wall behind it.

is it because his room genuinely looks pretty or is it because it's his room which has you admiring it so much?

the door opens before you could force yourself to answer this despite knowing which option held more truth.

your eyes naturally fall on who it is who entered without even knocking and dazai smiles at you — that charming, obnoxiously attractive lift of his lips which seems to do the trick every time — as he runs a hand through his hair, entering further and kicking the door close.

"good morning?"

"you don't look like you slept." you note with raised eyebrows to which he just shrugs, perhaps a little annoyed at the way you read him so well but he knows that's just in your nature — that you speak a lot less than you seem to think, that's part of the reason he liked to keep you at arm's length previously. close but not too close.

well, now that is ruined because he volunteered to help you with your situation when he could've smiled and pretended he doesn't see the accusation in your eyes sometimes like he usually does since it's normal for him.

like adoration, dazai osamu is no stranger to accusation and resentment too. he evokes it in many people but you seemed to hit a spot he didn't know he had. probably because he always wondered what he looks like through your eyes.

"what's that supposed to mean?" your laughter dies down when dazai walks past you to reach the bathroom. he stops at the doorway and turns to face you, sighing heavily.

it makes goosebumps rise along the length of your arms as you wonder if you've been too nosy or said the wrong thing.

looking at you seriously like he is confronting you for a crime which you have forgotten, dazai digs his nails into the palms of his hand to keep an even tone as he says, "look, don't tell this to anyone, okay?"

you can't help but nod because he looks so serious, dreading whatever it is that he seems to want to confess to you of all people — you don't think you two are that close for him to confess a secret as grave as this (judging from the look on his face, it doesn't seem like anything light) to you.

"good," he mutters in relief, "actually, the reason i don't sleep at night is because i am batman. i have an entire city to protect."

". . . huh? —" you cut yourself off as laughter bubbles out of your throat and floats into the air between you and him. it's filled with more relief than humour, dazai notes to himself as a small smile creeps up on his lips the longer he hears your laughter.

"you are so full of shit, dazai." you say finally as you shake your head, calm enough to chuckle and appreciate his good timing.

so he must've been digging his nails into his skin to maintain the faux serious expression.

"i prefer to call it charm." he winks at you and turns around, finally stepping inside the bathroom but pops his head out after a few seconds, "wanna join?"

"go away." you giggle, turning around which makes you miss the soft look in his eyes as he lets out a casual, "your loss," before re-entering the bathroom where the smile immediately leaves his lips when he stares into his reflection who seems to be smirking and asking, 'what was that all about?'

dazai steps near the sink to be able to stare at his reflection better but it seems to be mocking him. he tries to smile but it looks wrong in the reflection — the right end is stretched too much and the left end of his lips seems to be dropping, feels more like a monkey trying to smile than a human.

he clicks his tongue and turns the faucet to let water run free, cupping his hands below the running tap water to splash some water over his face.

it's not like these thoughts haven't been plunging into his brain since yesterday night. they're making him uncomfortable, ringing loud alarms in his head which tells him to distance himself from you as soon as he can and he swears he will but everytime he talks to you and sees you bat your eyelashes without realising, he can't help himself but pull out reactions from you which will leave you shy.

then comes the regret which settles on his tongue once the honey he laces his words with leaves him.

just like now, after the interaction with you which tasted more sweeter and exciting then he thought it would (but he knew at the back of his mind that the actual interaction would be more addicting then what he is assuming so can he really be called unaware? isn't ignorant the better word?), he is staring at his reflection with a wound in the middle of his chest which is oozing out dread.

the water he splashed on his face drips down his temples and cheeks and soaks into his black t-shirt and the bandages wrapped around his neck and shoulder.

with the sharpness of a ballerina, dazai turns around and leans back against the sink, ignoring how the cold surface digs into his lower back. he tilts his head back to stare at his upside down reflection which seems to be smirking even now as if the dazai in the reflection knows something the real one doesn't.

but that can't be true. it's just dazai's mind playing tricks on him and hinting that there's something his subconscious is hiding from him. something he might know and which he calls the 'impending doom'.

"what are you doing to me? dammit," he chuckles nervously as he closes his eyes and like many times, your image appears in front of him like you have burnt yourself on the back of his eyelids or something.

the picture of you which appears in his mind is usually the same — you are sitting at the end of a couch of some dim lighted party and staring straight at dazai despite your friends being around you and on the couch, talking. you seem to not pay them much attention as you intensely continue to stare at dazai and he can describe the exact moment when your 'stare' turns into 'admiration' as your eyes soften around the corners and your shoulders relax.

the party lights — blue and purple, fall on your face and give you an ethereal look — like a hologram a lonely man like him accidently stumbles upon in a cyberpunk or sci-fi setting.

or, like a siren who is luring in a sailor and nature decides to help her by instructing the clouds in the night sky to float away so the moon could be unobstructed and let its moonlight shine down on the seductress to give her a more ethereal look, making her be perceived as 'untouchable' and as if she is from out of this world and from some other reality. this is what makes the sailor snap and extend his hand out to try to reach out and touch the untouchable beauty in the ocean.

the moment you tilt your head, dazai's eyes snap open. always, as if he can't tolerate what will happen next or how it'll change his perception of you forever.

he raises his hand to rub it up and down his wet face, heaving out a sigh or two as he stands straight and turns around to stare into his reflection again. he looks distressed and bothered for a second and once he blinks, his usual but unnatural smile takes over and any signs of his previous bothered state is eradicated from existence until the next time he is completely alone.

when he steps out of the bathroom ten minutes later, it's empty as you must've left the room. he doesn't know why but his shoulders drop since he was expecting or hoping even for you to be here, waiting for him.

realising how ridiculous this thought is, dazai shakes his head and walks over to his closet to grab a change of clothes.

when he leaves his room and steps into the living room, his body heats up in a way it never did before. it's not lust and neither is it embarrassment but something entirely different as the sight which evoked this feeling out of him is one of you standing behind the kitchen counter with oda, eyebrows furrowed in concern as you watch the older man cut and put the fourth green chilli in his omelette.

it's the way you don't look like an additional person and appear as if you've always lived with them which evokes this feeling out of dazai. you look so natural that for a second he didn't even realise this is your first morning here.

he walks over to the couch and dramatically lays down with a whine, ignoring the thoughts occurring in his head of how it won't be that bad if you somehow decide to live here with them. hell, he will even sleep on the couch every night if it comes to that.

but, no one should know he is thinking this so he complains dramatically, "see, odasaku? my back is still screaming in agony because you made me sleep on this small, uncomfortable couch which gave me nothing but slow pain —"

"— same here, dazai-kun. my back pains too from sitting at my job the entire day. we will both become hunched back very soon." ango cuts him from his position on the armchair. he has a cup of hot coffee in his hand and takes a sip from it to hide the amused smile which took over him. he shouldn't be having this fun in teasing someone who is clearly so much younger yet more qualified then him but after living with him and oda for so long, ango allows himself to get loose and comfortable sometimes like he is doing today.

dazai grabs the cushion which is crushed between his back and the couch and loudly moans into it, whining for a minute or two about how unfair everyone is to him and how nice people like him have no future in this cold world with evil people like odasaku and ango existing.

he continues this act of his on the dining table too where you note how he seems to be the only one who doesn't have a plate in front of him and ango and oda doesn't seem to mind it which tells you this must be a normal occurrence.

this is why you sat next to him and not because he looked at you with interest the entire time you stood next to oda and watched his interesting cooking habits.

"oh, how can i study today if my back refuses to let me breathe freely for even a second? and how cruelly my shoulders are stiff! i can't even move my neck without gasping. oh, the pain one must endure in order to live — hm?" he pauses his dramatic complaints to blink as you pass him your apple — the one you grabbed to munch on after finishing your cereal. so why are you giving it to him now when it was clearly meant for you?

"eat something atleast," you mumble under your breath but he hears it anyway since his senses seem to be on alert around you.

to his relief, you continue to look at your bowl and eat. even when you passed him your apple, you did it quietly and quickly so the other two men at the table won't notice. he appreciates that, hates when someone fusses over him like he is some helpless baby when he isn't. he is a wrecked man who is filled with self destructive tendencies but what one doesn't understand is that ruining himself is how he shows his hatred for himself.

and dazai accepts hatred with open arms because it's the realest and rawest emotion out there. and it validates him and his thoughts that he is a poor copy of a human who must be hated and if anyone doesn't hate him, it's because they are mistaken for a while.

he might be grimacing at your eyes which drop fondness for him like a fountain but he absolutely drinks in those random moments where your eyes sharpen in scepticism and resentment.

dazai grabs the apple but never takes a bite out of it like naive little snow white did. it's simply because you aren't going to be his prince and save him. maybe he would've eaten if it was chuuya instead of you but alas he isn't here but you are and you know far too little about him compared to chuuya.

you aren't aware of his speeding heart beat because he doesn't let it show on his face. in fact, you aren't like chuuya or oda at all, you see the expressions on his face and assume. they know him from within.

yeah, you guys aren't that close or anything and once yuto backs off, he will distance himself from you slowly. yeah, he just needs to be patient like he always is and not show the suffocation he feels at the thought of getting to know you more, on his face.

he can't let you know he is scared of getting close to people because it comes at the cost of prolonged sufferings and dazai doesn't think anything is worth it anymore if it means he will suffer for eternity. not love and clearly not human companionship.

liar.

he is.

he wants companionship more than anything but some people just aren't meant for this stuff and are meant to be alone until the day they die. maybe he belongs to that category or it's a category created solely for him as he is the only one who is meant for this fate.

you don't even notice the space he creates between the two of you because you two are in different bubbles — you think you two have grown closer, he thinks he needs to start distancing himself in small ways so you won't notice.

you end up having a good morning after months of lonely ones filled with self hatred and exhaustion and for dazai, this morning is just like any other, filled with stress and slow sorrow which enters his veins slowly yet travels quickly.

he thinks you might be the type to smile if it ever rains while you are on your way from one campus building to another. he can see the raindrops falling on you gently and he thinks at first you would gasp or curse under your breath but knows you won't bother to run away. if he has to imagine the previous version of you, he thinks that version would've called your friends out to goof around and skip classes. the current you, however, would slowly look up at the sky and sigh again as you stand alone in the rain while everyone else around you runs for shelter from the rain.

unbeknownst to you, dazai thinks he would probably be standing a few feet away from you like he always does — close but just out of your vicinity.

unlike you, the rain won't be kind to him. it will soak into his bandages which will stick to his limbs and body, his hair will stick to his forehead and perhaps a cruel strand will poke his eyes too. the wind will pass by and he will shiver, rubbing his hand over his arm but he knows he won't move.

why would he ever if it means he will miss out on your reactions?

someone will bump into him and apologise. he will turn around with his usual smile plastered and reassure them it's fine and the person would recognise him and engage in conversations.

from his peripheral vision, he will see the moment you turn around to look at him and knows this is the exact moment it will dawn on you that you and him stand on two different ends of the same stage — him in the limelight and you in the shadows.

"do you want me to drop you off at your place?" odasaku's voice pulls dazai out of his thoughts and before you could swallow the cereal in your mouth and answer, he beats you to it.

"i will drop her off, odasaku." he says, amazed for a moment at how composed his voice sounds. this leads to the fear of his mask being so perfected that even if he wants to scream for help, he won't be able to because there's no space for his cracked voice to float from — ah, why would he do that though?

that's crazy to even think about. who can help him when the issues lie in his core?

oda nods and offers dazai a smile which he imitates but fails to carry the same warmth that oda's smile has because dazai is a cheap imitation at best.

he looks at you and the smile on his lips shakes a bit and nearly falls off when he sees you offer him a smile.

it's radiant and almost hypnotizing.

can't you see it? the desperation and horror inside him which comes the more he finds himself being hopeful about situations he had long come to terms with?

dazai osamu knows one thing for sure — you are going to ruin him.

dazai osamu thinks of himself and everyone else as black swans (perhaps he isn't even a swan but an ugly duckling. yeah, that seems more correct) — tainted with one sin or another — and not even odasaku, a man he greatly admires and even more greatly remains curious about is an exception to this. except you.

you are the only white swan in a land filled with black swans who swim in circles around you, barring their wings whenever you try to escape from this circle.

despite this, he doesn't think you are a saint at all. the blood staining your elegant white wings is proof of such. you just happen to be the sinner he looks past the sins of.

raising your white wings tainted with blood to prepare yourself to take off for flight and leave this forsaken place, the army of black swans around you become alert and charge towards you —

"dazai?" you call to pull the man out of his thoughts, uttering his name softly so as to not break the fragile and silent atmosphere of the bus.

"hm?" he turns his head to look away from the window and at you, who waves your phone at his face. the brightness of the screen stabs him in the eyes and he narrows them, putting his palm in front of his eyes to shield them.

"oh! sorry," you mumble as you immediately pull your phone down and offer him an apologetic smile which makes guilt to bubble up in his chest. he wants to tell you to not feel such emotions towards him as you are just wasting them and that he isn't worthy of any of your feelings.

"what is it?" he smiles to lessen your guilt. always the easy-going, charming boy. he learnt early on in life that this character is one almost everyone adores and finds pleasing to be around.

you know — the popular guy with a pretty face yet easy going personality and good humour in his pocket, that's who dazai osamu is on most days.

on others and at nights, he is a sore loser who doesn't know what to do with his life despite having this problem since his early teenage years or perhaps even before that. he is a waste of space who even the ground won't swallow up for it knows that dazai osamu has nothing to give and a person who can't be useful in any way is as good as the mold on the wall of an empty and abandoned room.

an utter failure is his second name after all.

"yuto's texts. do you want to see them?"

"you didn't read them?" he asks and then gasps, putting on his mask again as he presses his palm against his chest, closing his eyes dramatically, "how obedient. it truly flatters me to know you listen to me so eagerly."

he acts in desperate hopes that it'll be enough for you to recognize he wants you to distance yourself from him since he can't say it himself, afraid his words will come out wrong and you'll figure out that he isn't as good with dealing with others and their emotions like he pretends to.

"of course, you are helping me after all."

"oh? i didn't know i was the boss here." he snorts.

"neither did i but ango-kun spoke highly of you yesterday — by the way, did you guys talk? he said he was going to talk to you today."

"we did."

"and?"

"you are awfully nosy." he teases as he leans closer to see the messages yuto had sent — twelve messages from three different numbers.

"i just want to know what's going on considering this is my life you two were talking about. you are the nosy one here, brat." you don't take his words to heart, finding them funny instead as you grab the intent behind them almost immediately and tease him back, to his relief.

the first contact makes it clear that the sender isn't yuto but a friend of his. dazai remembers that yuto always has a big circle of friends. superficial yet big nonetheless.

unknown number : you really are something loll.

unknown number : can't believe you messed with yuto nakayama. you have guts 💀💀

unknown number : how much for a night?

unknown number : i mean nakayama must've paid a hefty sum, no?

unknown number : don't tell him this but there's no other way someone like him could get with someone like you.

"sometimes i feel bad for him since the people he calls friends talk like this behind his back." you tell as dazai clicks on the second number and your words make him pause.

he doesn't look up when he says, "and what about yourself? do you not feel bad for yourself?"

you shrug, eyes falling on the second unknown number which had sent you messages and this one is yuto for sure.

unknown number : it's fake, right?

unknown number : you getting with him all of a sudden doesn't make sense to me.

unknown number : idk what i did but please don't punish me in this way. let's talk it out?

unknown number : how much longer are you going to ignore me and let misunderstandings strain our relationship?

unknown number : please? don't do this to me. not you.

"sometimes," you whisper, "not always. it's somewhat my fault too, anyway."

dazai's eyes leave your phone screen just as he clicks on the third chat, looking at you with a sadness which you see in his eyes many times but never understood why it's there in the first place and what's stopping it from leaving.

"does being hard on yourself achieve anything? why don't you try being kinder to yourself?" in this moment, dazai doesn't know why he utters these words with so much pain as if he's the one going through your emotions when in reality, he has lived with such emotions for long enough to become numb to it.

"the world isn't a kind place, dazai. if you don't harden yourself then the world will do it for you and that's going to hurt so much more than me not being nicer to myself."

"that's a sad way to live," he hums, looking down at the messages the third unknown number had sent. yuto again, he realises as he continues to speak, "if your soul can't find warmth in your own body then it will except coldness from the world too and when someone tries to offer it warmth, your soul will mistaken it for fire and step too close for comfort, burning."

the words seem to hit him deeper then they hit you but this seems to be the case with him always. he offers words of comforts and after offering them, he realises these words are targeted at himself and not the person in front of him but since they came to him subconsciously, he can't understand or apply them to his life.

he tries, he really does but one thing or the other happens and proves to him that comforting him is futile, that trying to motivate him will always end in a failure and that you cannot straighten the tail of a starving, violent dog.

which is crazy because he swears he isn't a dog yet like one, he smiles at anyone who gives him attention. like the starving, stray dog which wags his tail at the sight of someone throwing him a bone, dazai curls his toe once his back hits the mattress of whatever cheap motel he decided to bring his company to.

like the dog which barks and whimpers in happiness whenever someone pats his head on their way to their destination, dazai feels complete when his company marks his neck or shoulder. just like the dog who knows he has no home but still tries to follow strangers, osamu dazai knows he is not capable of forming a stable relationship with just about anyone yet he still wears his mask and performs to woo and charm people around him.

he is no dog. he is not violent.

but then, why does almost every woman who is underneath him wants him to bite them? why does he enjoy being bitten too?

he is no dog but his tail wiggles in the air whenever a pretty woman sits next to him and bats her eyelashes at him. the prospect of spending the next few hours with her, his hands gliding up and down her curves is almost enough to make him salivate.

"sometimes just warmth isn't enough but burning is." you chime in to admit that you've been so cold all your life that even burning in fire seems like a good thought. it might burn and hurt, sure, but it will also defrost and burn away the coldness that always lingers at the tips of your fingers and toes no matter how warmly you dress.

here, dressing up is the metaphor of forming different friendships and relationships, be it with people your age or professional ones with teachers.

"still, it will hurt a lot when you apply medicine to the burns afterwards." he says, somehow catching onto your vague sentences and metaphors.

it makes you smile. so smart he is that admiring him comes like second nature to you.

"won't hurt as much if the person with the right hands does it."

"oh yeah? and what's that supposed to mean?" he tilts his head, raising his eyebrows.

the question takes you by surprise since it came out in the spur of the moment when you were busy admiring him. you didn't think he was going to focus on it at all and now that he is, you feel flustered.

looking down to read the message sent by the third number, you mumble, "maybe someone with stable hands? i am not sure as well . . "

"ya know, doll," dazai smirks as he wiggles his fingers in front of your face, "i have pretty stable fingers as well."

"you will probably press on the burns for fun." you snort, shaking your head until you catch the words which barely leaves dazai's mouth, "if it's you, i will be gentle. don't want you to go through more than what you already are."

you don't respond back but guilt bubbles in your heart. have you been wrong about dazai the entire time?

yes, you are aware that your anger towards him is unfair and that the only reason it's directed at him is because you cannot direct any more of it to yourself or yuto.

along with guilt, you feel warm too and wonder if this is the warmth he was talking about?

the fact that he cares enough to wish to not see you go through anymore pain makes you feel human. makes you think that there is someone who would probably feel bad had you committed suicide that night.

it makes you remember the rare feeling of being important enough to someone for them to care about what pains you and what doesn't when you can't give two shits about it yourself.

and him being this person feels especially good for obvious reasons which are related to your feelings regarding him.

unknown number : i will come by tonight.

unknown number : open the door, okay? for me.

". . if it's okay with you then i would like to stay with you tonight." dazai gestures to the two short and straightforward messages on your phone screen and you don't need to be told twice to understand why he's offering so.

you nod, grateful but not expressing it because if you did then it would water down your intense feelings at this moment. somethings are better left unsaid and it's better to let the silence fill in the gap than to let words clumsily try to do so and waste the moment.

"couch, again?" you tease, giggling as he playfully groans.

"i am going to develop back problems at my young age because of these couches."

"i thought alot about your words — you know, that night, when you told me not to call you belladonna?" dazai begins as he offers you his hand once he had stepped down from the bus.

gratefully and eagerly, you accept it, letting his fingers fill in the gap between your own ones. the rough yet soft texture of his bandages is one you grew used to quickly. but it's not a surprise considering how often you daydream about holding his hand and all.

thump, thump.

his words makes you chuckle, "you took that to heart? i was just high on emotions that day, nothing else. don't worry too much."

"how can i not?" dazai gasps, frowning in faux seriousness, "i will let you know that i take giving people nicknames very seriously."

he hides the reason for doing so. since telling you that giving nicknames to people is his way of defending himself from getting closer to anyone isn't really a great thing. he doesn't mention that a wall is built the moment he gives anyone a nickname because actual names are intimate and sacred while nicknames are mostly humorous and meaningless for him. it decreases the value of a person.

"okayyy, then what shall my nickname be?" you playfully hum, matching his frown because on this concept you stand on the other side of the coin. nicknames to you are the proof of getting closer to someone since you won't waste your time in coming up with a nickname for someone you don't like or cherish. you won't sit and go through your memories to pick out a single moment to be a nickname which will forever become an inside joke between you and another person.

"ma cherie." he winks as he says so.

"you called me that once before too," you hum as you smile, "what's the reason for choosing this one?"

you ask this because it's beautiful when someone explains why they picked a certain nickname for someone else.

but maybe asking him about it is a mistake as his face immediately darkens and a evil smile takes over his lips. his shoulders begin to shake as if he's suppressing the urge to laugh.

"i have a friend. he's half french," dazai begins and you blink, not sure where he's going to go with this.

"he is the type to use pet names when talking to someone while drunk and once called me, 'mon cheri'. this is just to annoy him by reminding him of that memory whenever he is around us." dazai ends up with a chuckle.

his relationship with chuuya is strange. sometimes they feel like they could be friends and then usually, they are mere acquaintances who love to get on the nerves of each other.

so deep in his own memories, he doesn't notice how the smile on your face falters just a bit at the realisation that someone else is in his mind when he's giving you a nickname.

ah, what did you expect?

that he would bother to put in the effort to look through his few memories with you and pick out one of them which could be a good nickname for you, the context of which is known by the both of you only?

why would he do that? he's just helping you and you must've let that get to your head and let yourself be deluded that you two are close or something.

besides he isn't the one who had distanced himself from his friends and pretends not to notice the rift between him and them whenever he meets them. that's you. so you don't have any right to feel sad over not being close to him when you had voluntarily distanced yourself from the only people who gave even half a shit about you.

"what a poor guy he must be to have you as a friend," you manage to speak up, smiling in a way which immediately tells the other person that you are only joking.

"i won't call chuuya a poor guy. he's no angel either." dazai chuckles, eyes glinting in glee when he sees realisation set on your face as your mouth forms an 'o' shape at the name of the man you have seen around dazai far too many times.

"that short, unimpressive yet pretty guy?" you ask, knowing what face owns that name because you have passed by them many times when dazai whined or called that short guy 'chuuya'.

dazai blinks before bursting into laughter — the sudden, loud kind which makes your own lips quirk up too, albeit a bit shyly.

"what?" you meekly ask, wondering if you are wrong or if you shouldn't had used those words to describe him. but you can't help it since everytime you think of him, you think of these traits too, to the point that they immediately tumble out of your mouth whenever someone mentions him to you.

"no — it's just that —" he laughs again, leaning against you to muffle his mouth against your shoulder, not really realising the full extent of how this action makes your heartbeat accelerate because you can feel his laughter and breath clash against your clothed skin and wow, what must you sacrifice to make sure this moment never ends?

"oh man, you are so fucking great," he mumbles between laughter, taking a shaky breath afterwards since he can feel his stomach ache due to how much he laughed.

he raises his head from your shoulder and rubs the heels of his palms over his face and down his flushed cheeks (due to laughing so much), before he looks at you, so softly in a way that makes your surroundings blur and for everything else except him to loose their colour and meaning. he has always been the main star in your orbit anyway.

"i haven't laughed this much in ages. what led you to describe little chuuya with these adjectives?" he chuckles and notices you two had stopped walking in the middle of the footpath like two weirdos so he tugs at your hand, continuing to walk towards the building you live in.

now you feel shy because technically the person you insulted might be your pretend boyfriend's best friend so you fumble with your words, wildly moving your free hand as you try to explain yourself, "uh, i don't really think these about him — it's just, you know? i don't know him and he is short yet good looking so uh, yeah?"

you laugh nervously, hoping either he will stop talking about this topic altogether or that the ground opens up to swallow you.

perhaps this is why you don't see the genuine and soft smile on dazai's face as he stares at you, thinking how cute you are in moments like this and how he might want to see you this flustered again.

thoughts are dangerous and he remembers this fact when he catches his own thoughts growing wild and bold.

from imagining more ways to make you stumble over your words, to reaching the memory of that night which began this entire conversation to imagining how life would look like if waking up next to you becomes a norm for him. he won't mind sharing a bed with you, nor will he mind sharing the same house as you.

it's not something he should imagine nor entertain yet subconsciously, in that one single minute where he didn't keep a tight grip on his emotions, dazai finds himself doing exactly the two things which he shouldn't.

this will end with one more loss which stabs it's hand through his chest and makes it more hollow, he tells himself and suddenly holding your hand feels revolting but he doesn't pull his hand back, can't.

can't let you see the fear which seductively kisses his mind or the anxiety of not being in control which pushes his heart around like a meek child being pushed around by bullies.

it doesn't take you two long to arrive at your apartment but you sure wish it did once you see the man who is leaning against the balcony with his bag — ah, briefcase, not a bag, never is — resting by his feet which are hugged by boots polished to shine whenever light falls on it.

dazai wonders who this man in but he makes a quick judgement that this man carries the same exhausted air as ango so he must work in the government. it's not possible for yuto to send him but it's still a possibility.

father — he is here.

he is here and you didn't know because you didn't care to unblock him since the last time you argued with him about changing your dorms and moving in here. this is his first time here yet you haven't been here to welcome him, you have already disappointed him. again.

again, again and again. you just keep on disappointing him, don't you? why did he bring you over from the war that day all those years ago and why did he sacrifice himself to give someone like you, utterly worthless and a magnet for bad luck, a better life.

does he regret it? probably does.

dazai sees you not respond or even seem to understand that the man had noticed you two from his peripheral vision and stood straight, calling your name with hidden fondness that isn't appropriate for a mere government worker sent here by someone else so this man is family.

now, he can be your brother but the air is tense in a way which is only ever created when facing a parent, guardian or a mentor — dazai thinks back to mori ougai for a quick second before coming to the conclusion that either this brother of your's has been like a father figure to you or he is your father.

the latter seems more plausible since he sees similarity in your mannerisms.

so, he gives your hand a quick squeeze to pull you out of your thoughts and pulling you out of the spiraling daze, it does.

"dad," you release a breathe you didn't know you were holding as you take a step ahead, letting go of dazai's hand without noticing, much to his displeasure.

"my number is blocked." says the man who seems like he is made of cold and steel to dazai. a notable russian accent hangs from his words which you did not adopt.

"yes, i —" you cough awkwardly, "— forgot to unblock you."

"i see," father nods, doesn't pry much on it since he knows you were angry.

it's fine, you are still his little baby so he doesn't mind it and won't make you feel more guilty by telling you how many nights he had spent awake and worried, thinking about you and how long it took him to use methods to find your address.

perhaps he should share all this with you because then you wouldn't feel like someone whose absence doesn't matter or like some sort of bug. you know, the type someone doesn't glance twice at even if said bug got pressed to the ground by someone's shoes and is quivering to move around with whatever life it has left, trying to fight death which stands a step away because why would a bug's effort matter? at all?

father lifts his gaze to look away from you and you don't let the plea leave your lips, the one in which you request him to look at you for one more second with a little warmth because he's already doing too much for you only to end up here, alone since who knows when and waiting for you to show up. you disappointed him.

you have no right to ask him for anything at this moment.

father's sharp eyes land on dazai, eyebrows raised and a professional smile on his face which dazai returns, though his own smile is more relaxed compared to father's tight one.

"dazai osamu," he introduces himself with a small bow which your father mirrors, faltering for a mere second while leaning down as your words reach his ears, "he is my boyfriend, dad."

"sergei esenin," your father introduces himself coolly as if he had never faltered, as if the harsh reality of you growing up and him not being able to keep didn't slap him on the face.

with eyes that seem to rival the colour of the top surface of the coldest glaciers and hair as black as a crow flying in the sky, father's face was thin yet sharp, the type which one would usually see on models. glasses hung on his nose and they hid the dark circles beneath his eyes while his black suit was crisp, not a single wrinkle to be seen anywhere. everything about his appearance screamed calm logic and perfection. dazai knows how to handle these types and doesn't really like them much.

he extends his hand for a handshake while letting go of his arrow which has two targets to hit, "you wrote the article criticizing our government, didn't you? 'land of scoundrels'."

father's smile relaxes as approval oozes out when he nods and responds back with, "i did, yes. i wasn't aware you followed political events closely. dazai-kun, was it?"

dazai nods, smile charming and not crooked at all. this is easy because he has been doing this since he was fifteen or perhaps younger, he doesn't really remember. he just has to mention a work of theirs to the likes of your father to let them know that he is somehow versed in their field and knows them — give them a common ground to talk about and impress them with his knowledge.

you think your father likes dazai with the way he is engaging in conversations with him, ones which the latter carries and continues perfectly to the point it makes you wonder if you two are the same age. you aren't a stranger to how intimidating your father is, so for dazai to not even stutter when talking to him and match his cool composure with his own stings a bit.

reminds you that you'll never be like him.

your movements go unnoticed by your father but not dazai who immediately knows you are being sluggish when you insert the key in the keyhole to open the door to your apartment.

this answers the question which rose in his mind the moment your father introduced himself.

you see, the 'land of scoundrels' was a jab at the politicians and the authority of the government as a whole, it challenged the traditional views and class difference and argued why the country is so loose when it comes to the safety of women — you know, the type of stuff which a refined man like father finds ridiculous.

alas, the feedback he received was negative — nearly fired and arrested for daring to speak as a foreigner but kneeling once or twice before the authority figures and handing them the right to his freedom of speech solved the matter before you and father could be thrown out of the country.

dazai knew your resentment and fear for yuto stemmed from something deeper and now he found it. he always found weaknesses too quickly. it's a habit he can't rid himself of since it's stemmed deep into his subconscious.

your apartment is cold and small when he enters through the door, after you and your father does and closes the door behind him.

the door opens to reveal the living room whose one side is covered by the one counter kitchen and the other reveals a small window and a worn out couch and small, shabby coffee table in front. the distance from the coffee table to the window is a mere six steps.

anxiety crawls its way up your arm and you don't dare to look up at what expression father is wearing because what else could be on his face except disappointment and perhaps disapproval?

the uni dorms were nicer and bigger, they were expensive too. compared to that, your apartment now is very cheap.

"the bedroom is bigger." you tell to maintain whatever dignity you have left in front of the two men who are more alike then you would like them to be in your mind.

nodding at the worn out couch to gesture father and dazai to sit on the couch, you do not dare to look at the latter which makes something uncomfortable prick at his skin. he doesn't like seeing you look this way — like a swan whose wings are shut using wires.

when dazai sits down after the father, the couch immediately dips under his weight in a way which only old couches do. it threatens to swallow him or worse, break a leg if he moves too hastily.

"would you like tea? coffee?" you focus your attention on father with a trembling heart and see him look down at the watch around his wrist to see how much time he has left to be here.

he looks up and asks instead, "did you have breakfast?"

this question of his could come from a place of genuine worry but the way his tone remains calm and no emotions racing across his face for even a fleeting moment reminds you too much of dazai. it makes something hot bubble up inside you and all you could think while offering a stiff nod is if father doesn't trust you enough to take care of yourself. are you that incompetent?

could be.

"if you aren't late for your lectures or any other plan you might have with your . ." father falters as he glances at dazai who catches what you don't — the slightest hint of worry and fear which is swallowed down as father carefully continues his words, ". . dazai-kun or friends, then coffee would suffice."

you offer another curt nod and hope none of the two men can see the way your back is too stiff and neck muscles too awkward.

the floor is unforgiving and cold beneath your feet but your relationship with father has always been colder so you feel numb to it all. it's normal. it's routine.

you do not falter as you sense dazai looking around the living room as so does father, both of them immediately noticing the lack of furniture and objects in this small spaced room.

your eyes do not waver away from the kettle in which water is being heated even if you feel dazai's eyes dig a hole at the back of your head and father's sharp ones dissecting the meaning behind your pathetic kitchen counter where there is exactly two of everything, one from each pair being somewhat cheap and normal and the other glistening under the lights of the kitchen as it sits with the air of superiority, clearly more expensive.

the two of them together is a dangerous pair, you realise as you pour the hot water in two mugs and add coffee powder into it, stirring the crushed coffee seeds with the warm water from which steam rises and hits your cheek. father had always liked his coffee this way, punishing and bitter, for a reason you do not know but it didn't matter since you had spent an entire year getting used to this bitter beverage because if you could force yourself to adopt father's quirks and manners then you could feel closer to him.

you place the mugs on a plastic tray which had been thrown too many times on the floor in anger but still remained intact. just like dazai, you think but this time the mention of him or his name doesn't make your heart stutter because you recognise the bigger truth here — dazai and father hasn't talked much yet there seems to be an understanding between them which you haven't been able to establish all these years.

perhaps he's not only better than yuto but better than you too.

you think you can understand yuto's bitter yet cold anger towards dazai now even if his words seemed too annoying and illogical at the times of his rant.

he would be laying on the couch with his feet hanging over the armrest and head turned towards you, big eyes nailing you in your place as he expected — no, silently begged for support or words of agreement from you. none ever came but you would replace that expectation by presenting him with a cooked meal on the coffee table. you never told him to move over but just settled down near his legs, beginning to eat your own meal and he would join in with the eagerness of a starved child. he might have bought the expensive set of utensils but never used it, rather he ate from the cheap one while you used the expensive one.

you could feel yuto, the awful presence of that pathetic man, hugging you from behind as you carry and place the tray on the coffee table, then step back to stand straight as you stare at them while trying not to show how you can see yuto in every corner of the living room as if he had carved his existence here himself to make sure you could never truly get rid of him.

he remains with you even when he is physically absent. this fact infuriated you at first but now your heart drops to the floor of your stomach as you fear if you can ever truly move on from him.

dazai bows his head in respect to gesture father to take one mug first and the approval glinting in father's nod doesn't escape you. it stays in front of your face and taunts you while yuto's remnants float in the air and brush against your skin despite the clothes you wear to push you deeper into the hole that's always beneath your feet, waiting for one missed step so it could swallow you whole.

dazai takes the mug after your father does and takes a sip to let the bitter beverage take over his taste buds, expression not letting anyone know that he doesn't like his coffee this bitter. he remains as calm as your father with his shoulders wide and spine straight, carrying the same important and untouchable air as father.

it sickens you and makes you see everything in a green shade. fingers twitch by your side as you kneel down to sit on the floor, shaking your head to let father know it's okay as you see him part his lips in protest.

you have sinked to deeper hells and the only way you made it out was by accepting the hand of the devil the hell belonged to.

dazai sees the subtle yet strong emotion behind your eyes again, the one in which you look at the person in front of you with silent accusations. he thought only he and yuto were victims of this gaze before. now he knows your father falls in the same category as them.

"i still think you should move to a more populated area. it's dangerous in areas like this where people are scarcely present." father takes another sip of his coffee as so does dazai but the heat of the coffee cannot do anything to change the coldness surrounding you and father.

"people are vultures. i prefer being here. it's less suffocating and restricting." your voice is calm yet the tremor of anger doesn't escape the two men.

"what made you think so? i remember you used to say you preferred how busy the dorm area was." father places the mug on the table with a sharp 'click' as he furrows his eyebrows and genuinely tries to see beneath your mask but he doesn't know that it's fused with your skin.

to remove your mask would mean to pry away the skin it's fused with and hurt you.

"i changed my views." your answer is short. rude.

"if there is something bothering you then tell me. i can't know if you won't share it with me. i am not a mind reader." he pronounces your name softly, perhaps sadly.

hot lava violently travels through your veins and your toes curl quickly, hardly, while your eyes turn shaper. the man who smirks while breaking the person in front of him piece by piece can't be serious to say this to you. he's lying, obviously. this is just formality that a father has towards his daughter. he doesn't really care. neither does dazai. no one cares about anyone else on their own expanse.

"if it's something worth sharing, i will. don't worry." ah? so this one isn't worth sharing even if you nearly killed yourself? your inner voice asks you and it feels like nails scratching against a black board because the question hits the swollen spot in your heart which still beats with the hope of someone deeming you important enough to reach out without you having to guide attention towards your shattered self first.

"it's not my place to speak so forgive me if i am overstepping —" your heart accelerates as dazai's smooth yet serious voice reaches your ears even if he's not addressing or looking at you but at your father, memories of him and the party at the night of your could be suicide attempt rushes into your mind like water travelling from high concentration to low concentration.

it's him. it's always him. he cared. he reached out. he offered his hand. he helped. he's helping.

but he didn't care before. not when you were at your lowest.

even his care and attention came with a cost.

"— but sir, i promise you i will be here for her. i know this won't lessen your worry since you are a father but i hope to offer you some sort of relief. i am here and i promise i will protect her." dazai spoke because it was sickening to see your father worry for you but it's not reaching you because you have walls built around you.

the tense atmosphere which could break and reveal something vulnerable at any moment suffocates him. so he's just trying to make some room to breathe. and perhaps because he sees him — mori ougai — in your father when he tries in his own way to tell you he is here if things get too hard.

though mori ougai was no father figure, he was a mentor and even if it makes him nauseated to admit it, dazai had adopted a few too many of mori's traits.

he also sees oda in your father. just slightly.

oda, who never tried to force his way into dazai's circle but always seemed to tell that he's here for him with his actions.

dazai osamu sees a younger version of himself in you. the one whose eye and head was covered in bandages too and who used to achieve impossible feats for mori in exchange for different drugs which he could gulp down and hope it'll be enough to close his eyes forever.

the look of wanting to embrace death which he saw on your face that night and the days before which led to it, the slouch of your shoulder and the dimming of your energy a tiny bit every single day ; it all haunts him since he can see the little evidences of apathy and defeat on your face if he stares too hard at you even now. it made him worry then and it makes him worry even more now.

thump, thump. beats your heart at this confession which feels too intimate and certain. swallowing down saliva, you do not dare to notice the ticklish feeling which travels down your stomach.

he cares? only sometimes? or always? he hides it? what does dazai want? what is dazai thinking?

question after question clash with each other in your mind yet you don't let a single emotion flicker on your face, not with both of them just one glance away from watching you.

"dazai-kun, thank you. you do not know how much your words mean." father bows his head in gratitude, which dazai beats by bowing more to show respect, to appear in a way which he thinks your father might appreciate.

he could fool you and everyone else, even himself, by telling it's only for pretense and that if your father doesn't end up liking him then your relationship with your father will turn rocky even after you and dazai stop pretending to be a couple.

but the truth will remain in the marrow of his bone — dazai osamu wants your father to see him as someone capable of protecting you and deem him as someone worthy of being by your side.

protect you? why?

he himself doesn't understand so. atleast yet. or perhaps he just doesn't want to accept that he understands the reasoning behind his actions because admitting that would mean he has to admit he is a hypocrite who got closer to you despite his fear and inner conflict.

Chuuya Nakahara

Osamu Dazai

Ryuunosuke Akutagawa

Fyodor Dostoevsky

— to the angels, devil and grim reaper ; try your best to pry my lifeless, cold arms away from her body and you will find that even in death, i won't let go of her 𔓘 .

if someone stops chuuya and asks him what he thinks of you, his best friend of perhaps two years now, then he will roll his eyes first and then mumble out a strangled, “she's alright, i guess.”

to outsiders it may seem like chuuya can barely tolerate your presence but you know better. chuuya cares about you alot.

he had been there to wipe your tears when you experienced your first heartbreak to a shitty guy. you still remember how closely he stayed the entire night after you called him and broke down as soon as he answered. he came running, out of breath as he leaned against your doorframe and demanded to know who made you cry.

the very next day, you heard the guy who broke your heart got his nose broken by chuuya. when you tried to ask him about it later, he glared at you while flicking your forehead and told you to not worry about these insignificant things.

you have been talking about fyodor and dazai for approximately a month now and assumed they had chuuya's approval because he never really said anything against them. if only you knew that his silence wasn't natural but out of consideration for you.

truth be told? chuuya hates dazai and he hates fyodor even more. can't stand either of those shitheads despite how commonly he and dazai hangs out.

tonight is a common occurrence with you hanging around in chuuya's bedroom. he thinks you might have gotten too comfortable around him if you can lay here like this, wearing this sinful outfit and yet talking about them. those wretched little punks who should've been aborted.

chuuya's eyes trail down your black camisole top whose neckline is trimmed with laces and a cute bow — this specific one he likes the most on you though you don't know this — to the way your sweatpants (or are they his? on a closer look, they do seem similar to the ones he can't find in his closet these days) hangs down from your hips. if he pulls just a bit, he's sure they'll come off.

your legs are spread and he's sitting between them while leaning against the headboard. the phone in his hand has long been forgotten as he's subtly eyeing you while the lollipop he decided to indulge in instead of his usual cigarette stick feels heavy on his tongue. it's as if instead of a sugary snack he's trying to dissolve a rock in his mouth.

“chu?” you call, lifting your head from his pillow to stare at him. eyebrows furrowed together so fucking deliciously and all because of him, makes him wonder what other reactions he can evoke out of you.

“yeah, pretty?” he purrs, spreading his legs.

his knees touches your inner thighs and forces them to part even more but still, you don't think too much of this action. it's normal for him to get touchy with you sometimes.

“you aren't listening to me, are you? fucking asshole.” you chuckle, leaning up on your elbows and chuuya swears on his life you are trying to seduce him right now.

your insults go straight to his dick as so does blood, making his cock twitch and harden up.

he pounces on you the moment you close your eyes to blink, knees now digging on the mattress just half a finger's distance away from your hips while he leans his body down on top of yours to let electricity travel down his body the moment you gasp and your chest rises up to brush against his own.

“why am i an asshole? huh?” he takes the lollipop out of his mouth and watches how your gaze immediately falls on it. the round lollipop is shining underneath the light because of his saliva and you unintentionally — no, subconsciously, find yourself parting your lips as absurd and nasty thoughts of wanting to taste chuuya's saliva at the very least, begins to plague your mind, “is it so wrong of me to not want to hear you talk about other men? hm? you want me to be an asshole, darlin?”

he snickers. satisfaction travels through his body as he toys with you by lowering the lollipop near your mouth and smudging it's wetness on your lips but the moment you part them, he pulls the lollipop out of reach.

understanding that he won't give you what you want unless you provoke him a bit more, you roll your eyes weakly, “as if. you are already one to me. i thought you liked them?”

chuuya's eyes darken before he shrugs, lowering the lollipop near your mouth and he doesn't pull it out of reach this time as you part your lips. you stick your tongue out to lick a clean strip up just as he makes one thing clear.

“i don't like them. never did. and especially since you began talking about them. you talk about them to me once more and i will make sure both of those fuckers end up in a hospital with so many broken bones that even the doctors will wonder if putting them down is the better option, okay?” he releases a shuddering breath as he stares down to see you nod, tongue so gently teasing the lollipop that he finds himself turning green with envy.

chuuya tilts his head down while parting his lips to lick the side of the lollipop facing him. his tongue wanders soon as he tilts his head more, the wet appendage touches your own and a shiver makes its way down your body.

he pulls the lollipop away to press his lips against yours, drinking in the remnants of the flavour from your lips while his other hand taps your thigh once before grabbing it and guiding you to wrap your legs around his lower torso after he shifted his position so he won't be straddling you anymore.

somewhere in the kiss, he shifts the lollipop to your hands and makes you hold onto it while his kisses trail down from your chin to your neck and downwards until he's greedily helping you take off the sinful top so he could dive his head between the valley of your breasts.

his bed creaks and the lollipop falls from your hands and shatters onto the floor at the very moment chuuya pulls away from your chest to stuff two of his ring covered fingers inside your mouth while the other hand pulls at the waistband of your sweatpants before releasing them so they could snap against your skin, making you gasp against his fingers.

“mine?”

you nod and he smirks, “take whatever you want as long as every fucker attracted to you knows you are mine and wearing my clothes, hm?”

one more nod is the reply he gets from you.

“good girl, such a good girl.” he may have said so yet it's soon followed by a smack against your inner thigh, very close to your core.

gasping is of no use as he just pushes his fingers in deeper.

“take your sweats off. did any of those fuckers fuck you?”

with teary eyes due to how deep his fingers are in your mouth, you shake your head but chuuya doesn't particularly care for the answer as his purpose would remain the same regardless.

“may i?”

a nod is what he gets again and that's all chuuya needs before he pulls his saliva covered fingers out of your mouth, popping them into his own mouth again because even your saliva is his and he won't let it go to waste.

this is why he leans down to lick the saliva dripping down your chin.

then, he straightens up as he looks at your sweats before looking at you to silently demand you to take it off which you clumsily do since your eyes refuse to move away from the sight of chuuya effortlessly using only one of his hands to unbutton and unzip his pants.

When he doesn’t respond, you look over to find him in worse shape than you. His normally pale cheeks are cherry red, sweat dripping down his forehead and matting his ginger hair to the sides of his face. Chest heaving, it seems like he’s gasping for air, and, wait - is he whimpering? When your eyes trail down his slim body, you spot the final confirmation needed to know that he’s in the same boat you are - he’s rock fucking hard, a clear outline of his dick painfully obvious in his slacks. 

“ ‘m not feelin’ great either,” he grunts, words shaky. He tries to cross his legs but yelps, even the slight amount of friction clearly too overwhelming. 

Never in your life have you felt this aggressively aroused, to the point where it’s damn near painful. At this point, all you can think about is touching yourself, and getting something inside you. 

“How much longer ‘til we’re back to headquarters?” your words are stunted, dripping with desperation. 

Chuuya checks his phone, hand shaking. “Thirty minutes.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you whine, burying your face in your hands. 

It’s clear that both of you are feeling it, but neither of you are able to admit it. Not until Chuuya finally breaks. 

“I- fuck- I gotta come so bad before I fucking pass out,” he grunts.

Your eyes go wide at the statement - Chuuya was usually such a composed, disciplined man, that seeing him in such a frazzled, desperate state is shocking, and a testament to the potency of… whatever this is. But honestly, you can’t blame him. Instead, your mouth waters as he fumbles with his leather belt, unzipping his slacks and pulling out his thick cock. 

A hearty groan tumbles past his lips as he wraps a hand around his throbbing cock, pre already leaking out of the angry red tip. His left hand digs into the leather of the seat while he pumps his fist up and down his length, angling his body away from you as a last ditch effort to preserve his dignity, but it’s no use. 

“Fuck- sorry, sorry,” are the only words he can get out, jerking himself off faster and faster.

You hadn’t realized you had been holding your breath this whole time until your body finally forces you to release it. Chuuya and you had never been anywhere near an item, had never shared anything more but alcohol induced lustful eye contact during work events, but it would be a bold-faced lie to say you had never thought of him like that. But how could anyone blame you? It’s Chuuya. So the fact that the man is jerking off mere inches from you is… overwhelming to say the least. And is only worsening the ache between your own thighs. 

In a haze, you undo your own pants before shoving a hand inside, even the feather light pressure against your clit making you yelp. But, fuck, even the half-second of stimulation had your hips bucking, begging for more. With no other choice, you give in to your altered self’s demands, massaging your clit frantically and haphazardly. The groans and moans you let out are completely involuntary - you feel completely detached from who you are, what you are. The only thing you can think of at this point is how desperately you need to come. 

The problem is… it’s not happening. No matter how fast you massage circles around your throbbing clit, no matter how many fingers you shove inside your sopping cunt, it’s not enough. You’re getting close, close, close, right on the edge of reaching the release you so badly need, to be broken free from this obvious curse that’s been bestowed on the both of you, but it just won’t happen. And, looking at the man next to you, it’s clear he’s not faring any better. 

Chuuya’s all but given up, hands laying limp at his sides and head fallen back against the headrest as he pants, his still hard cock twitching in his lap. Your eyes flit between his face and his cock.

“Is it…”

“It’s not fucking working,” he grits, teeth clenched and eyebrows knitted together. The man is miserable. 

But maybe… Maybe the answer is each other? Maybe to break this curse, to undo this ability, you have to fuck someone else? It’d be a shit ability if you could just take care of it yourself… But proposing that to Chuuya? To the man you respect and revere so highly, a top executive at the Port Mafia, the man who could ruin your life and career in a second if you chose to jeopardize it like this… Fuck it.

“Maybe I could hel-”

“Please do,” he interrupts, pulling you in roughly and mashing your lips together. It’s all teeth and tongue and spit but all either of you can think about is how badly you need each other, how badly you need to be connected and to fucking come. Even through the haze of your curse, you still feel it. How Chuuya is doing the most to keep himself in check, doing his best to not crush you with his inhuman abilities, in the midst of a drunk-like state. Even at his worst, Chuuya is the most respectable man you know. 

A hand comes to wrap around his cock, but he stops you, gripping your wrist.

“Get on top,” he growls lowly, and you don’t need to be told twice. 

Shedding your pants in a frenzy, your heart races and your breath is ragged as you clamber onto his lap, wasting not even a second before you sink down onto his cock. Gravity does the work of fitting all of him inside you, and both of you let out broken, strangled grunts and moans of not only pleasure but relief. For the first time, it actually feels like a step has been taken towards relief. The answer had been there the whole time - each other.

The space is cramped in the backseat of this SUV, but neither of you could care less. Wrapping your hands around his neck, you use every ounce of strength you have in your thighs to bounce on his lap in time with his upward thrusts. It’s messy, haphazard, and both of you are just barely keeping it together.

Swift, quick, quiet has turned into sloppy, wet, horny. 

But god does it feel heavenly. It’s not just the curse that’s making this feel so damn good, Chuuya clearly knows what he’s doing - even if his game might be a little off currently. His thick cock is stretching your slick pussy deliciously, rubbing against each and every one of your sweet spots with every thrust. What he lacks in length he makes up for in motion, bucking his hips up into you at just the right angle to have you babbling a mixture of curse words and his name over and over. 

One of his hands snakes down between you, finding your clit and pressing against it - the sudden pressure makes you cry out, throwing your head back and clenching tight around his length, making the man hiss. 

“Feel good, yeah?” he smirks, rubbing small but quick circles around your neglected clit. 

“More,” is all you can manage, gripping his shoulders for better leverage as you ride him faster, desperate for the friction. The combination of his cock inside you and fingers massaging your clit finally has you reaching the climax you’ve been frantically chasing.

“C’mon, sweetheart, come for me,” Chuuya whispers against the shell of your ear as he fingers work rapidly against your sweetest spot. His words are suave and yet his voice still quivers, evidence of the fact that he’s still just as under the spell as you are.

“Y-you come too,” you stutter. “Us- both.” 

The broken sentence is barely out of your drooling mouth before your orgasm hits you like a fucking truck, and you cry out as it washes over you, feeling like electricity running through each and every one of your nerves. It’s a high you’ve never felt before, an ecstasy like no other.

The way you clenched and rut against him as you came has Chuuya following you not long after, spitting hot, thick ropes of come inside your pulsing cunt, but neither of you could care less. That’s a problem for a later date. Right now, both of you are just trying to come down from… whatever the hell that was.

Foreheads pressed together, both of you try hard to catch your breath, panting dramatically. A sharp hiss escapes your lips as you climb off his lap, his softening cock slipping out with a string of cum connecting the two of you. Things are slightly awkward as you do your best to shuffle back into your pants in the backseat of the car, and Chuuya makes sure to direct his gaze out the window, as if he wasn’t just balls deep in your pussy. 

It’s a given that neither of you can speak about it. It happened, it’s done, it’s over, you’ll return to being platonic work partners and pretend that this never, ever happened. And you’re fine with that, you really are. Until…

The tingling feeling is back. You’re getting hot all over, and your breath is quickening. And of course, the aching between your thighs. Looking over, and sure enough, Chuuya is already half-hard again. Fuck. The two of you make knowing eye contact. There’s only one direction this can go. Looking out the window, you’re minutes away from HQ.