I wanted to reach my hand out to that pained, disappearing smile,
If only I could feel it.
—Dr.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
April 2014
The hallway was long, and not entirely flat. It sloped downward from where Dazai stood, winding and curving slightly to the left. It was carpeted in deep magenta velvet, just a shade darker than Yosano's eyes.
Dazai wandered down the hallway and found himself in a crowded restaurant. The air smelled like pancakes. When he looked behind him, there was no hallway in sight.
Dazai was in the way, but his feet were rooted to the spot. A few waiters crashed into him, spelling crimson wine on his odd, fancy white suit.
Dazai felt stiff. Metaphorical roots became literal. He was a tree, rising above the screaming patrons. His branches were sharp, perfect for drawing blood. He killed them all—
Dazai jolted awake with a gasp. His cheek stung, and it took him a moment to realize why.
Chuuya stood over him, hand raised in case he needed to hit Dazai again.
"What the hell," Dazai snapped.
"You were thrashing and mumbling," Chuuya said bluntly. "It woke me up. Would you rather I poured cold water over your head?"
Dazai scowled and refused to reply. His dreams had been even more nonsensical than usual of late, and he wasn't sure why. They were so vivid, and seemed so real— but of course Dazai knew they weren't.
He wasn't crazy.
"You're crazy," said Chuuya finally. "Whatever. Just try not to do it again."
Dazai rolled his eyes. "You say that as if I can control my dreams."
Chuuya shrugged. "I don't know how it works. I don't dream. Never have."
"And you call me crazy," Dazai muttered.
Chuuya hit him again, this time in the arm, before retreating to his bed. "I can't wait for you to be gone," he grumbled.
"That's my line," Dazai replied.
He tossed and turned for the remainder of the night. He couldn't say how many hours of sleep he got, but it was close to three, maybe three and a half (as if thirty minutes made a difference). Chuuya's alarm went off around 7:30—god knew why, since the earliest classes their school offered were 9 AMs—and Dazai pretended he was asleep while he got ready. Dazai could have sworn he brushed his hair at least twice, and at one point, he peeked over and saw that Chuuya was applying multiple creams to his face. And sure, Dazai understood the basics of skincare; he used exfoliator on occasion, and applied SPF 50 moisturizer daily (all thanks to Yosano's incessant nagging). Still, who needed multiple face creams in one day?
Chuuya did, apparently.
After finishing his ridiculously complex skincare routine, Chuuya proceeded to take over 20 minutes just to pick out an outfit, which was ludicrous, especially considering that he ended up just wearing the clothes that Dazai had met him in—black jeans and combat boots, red T-shirt and leather jacket. After a moment of consideration, he added the stupid hat, which was a shame, considering how nice he'd gotten his hair to look.
He left the room around 8:15, just a few minutes before Dazai's alarm was set to go off. Not bothering to wait for the crashing beat of a 7days wonder to rouse him—it wasn't the best song to wake up to, anyway—Dazai shut off the alarm and dressed for the day. He wasn't in the mood to be perceived, so he wore an old pair of joggers and a hoodie over yesterday's bandages (he was good about changing them most days, but he just couldn't be bothered this morning).
Once he was ready, he got to work moving the tape over another couple of centimeters. Part of the tape now covered a small stain on the front of the fridge. Hopefully that wouldn't tip Chuuya off; Dazai wanted him to figure it out eventually, of course, but not until his space was significantly smaller.
Dazai had ended up eating the leftover rice balls after work last night, so he left the dorm a bit early. He probably wouldn't eat anything else, but the least he could do was get himself a coffee to tide him over. Weirdly enough, he didn't feel all that tired. His skin felt more sensitive than usual; although his bandages were wrapped firmly enough that he couldn't feel much through them, his exposed hands and face felt prickly to the touch.
He swung by the campus cafe and used up the last of his most recent paycheck on a 16 ounce black coffee (Dazai tried to budget, he did, but textbooks were expensive, and the rest of his money was used up on alcohol and special bandages that didn't make his skin itch ) before adding what Oda would likely call an obscene amount of sugar. He sipped it as he walked to class, finding relief in the way it sharpened his thoughts, making them somewhat coherent. Dazai needed all the lucidity he could get if he wanted to make it through this class.
He found the lecture hall easily thanks to Oda's tour. Only about half the seats were filled, but it was close to nine, so it must have just been a small class. Dazai scanned the rows of seats as he mulled over the optimal position in the room. Close enough that I can see the whiteboard easily, far enough that I'm less likely to get called on, Dazai decided. His vision had never been the best, but it wasn't quite bad enough that he needed glasses, at least not yet.
He chose a row in the center and made his way up the stairs. Halfway up, Dazai stopped in his tracks. Chuuya sat at the end of the row, scribbling madly in his notebook and leg bouncing restlessly beneath the desk. He glanced up as Dazai approached, eyes narrowing and scowl distorting his features. "What the hell are you doing here? You're not stalking me, are you?"
"As if I'd want to stalk such a slimy little man," Dazai retorted. "I'm in this class, which you would have known if you'd bothered to check the class roster." Dazai wasn't even sure if they had access to the class roster, and whether or not they did, Dazai certainly didn't look at it. Chuuya didn't have to know that, though.
More importantly, the statement seemed to annoy Chuuya. "Whatever," he grumbled. "Go sit somewhere else, you'll just distract me otherwise."
Dazai hummed. "If you say so!" He left Chuuya's row and proceeded to the next row, choosing the desk directly behind Chuuya. "Better?"
Chuuya whipped around and glared at him. "Don't you dare—"
"Could I have everyone's attention, please?" A melodic voice rang out from the front. An elegant woman in a traditional Japanese kimono stood behind the lectern, her red-orange hair pulled into a neat bun. "I am Ozaki Kouyou. This class is Intro to Psychology, and will cover everything from human social behavior to psychological disorders. If any of that sounds unfamiliar to you, you might be in the wrong room." She paused as two different students got up and left the room, looking panicked.
Dazai leaned forward and whispered, " Freshmen, am I right?" He could hear Chuuya gritting his teeth in response.
"Now," Kouyou announced, "I will be taking roll. To simplify learning your names, I'd prefer if you'd stay in the seat you're in now for the duration of the year." Dazai was honestly a bit concerned for Chuuya's lateral incisors at this point.
Kouyou began calling out names, and Dazai memorized them automatically. His was the fourth to be called, while Chuuya's name was called closer to the end. Only one student was absent; the other 23 were all present and accounted for. Most of them looked like freshmen, and seemed pretty boring to Dazai, but a couple of guys in his row caught his eye.
They sat together, seemingly familiar with each other already. Both looked older; one had spiky, dark brown hair and strange marks beneath his left eye, while the other sported white hair with red tips.Suehiro Tecchou and Jouno Saigiku, Dazai recalled easily. Jouno had yet to open his eyes, while Suehiro was spreading something that looked an awful lot like mayonnaise on a… was that a marshmallow?Dazai wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Kouyou selected a random student seated at the front to pass out the syllabi. Dazai accepted his with a pleasant smile before quickly scanning the five-and-a-half pages of information. The class would certainly take some brainpower to keep up with; three papers alone accounted for 40% of his final grade, and the other 60% was divided between reading responses, participation points, several pop quizzes and a group presentation that Dazai was already dreading.
He zoned out as Kouyou began going through the syllabus, eyes going unfocused as he stared at Chuuya's head in front of (and below) him. It was just so orange. It was shiny, too; Chuuya probably used fancy conditioner or other hair products to achieve that effect. Dazai wondered if it was soft. It looked soft.
Only one way to find out, Dazai decided, and reached out his hand.
Chuuya's hair was really soft. It felt like silk against Dazai's skin. He rolled it between his fingers and then gave a slight, experimental tug.
Chuuya's head whipped around, and he glared at Dazai as he took back his hand, smiling innocently. He raised his eyebrows at Chuuya as if to say, ' what are you going to do about it'?
Chuuya's eyes were murderous. Dazai was good at reading lips, and even if he weren't, he most likely could have guessed what Chuuya mouthed at him.
You're dead meat.
Dazai's smile widened as Chuuya turned back to the front. Dazai gave him a whole minute of peace before reaching out again. This time he tugged a bit harder, hard enough to hurt.
Chuuya, disappointingly, barely reacted this time, only stiffening slightly. He faced resolutely ahead, as if determined to ignore Dazai.
Boring, thought Dazai disapprovingly. That simply wouldn't do.
The third tug was even sharper than the last, and Chuuya actually let out a sound. It wasn't quite a yelp, but more of a squeak that nearly made Dazai lose it. Such a pathetic little sound, he thought smugly.
It wasn't quite enough to draw attention, but Kouyou glanced their way, eyes narrowed as she continued to review the syllabus. Dazai hoped she grew to dislike Chuuya; that would make him truly happy.
Kouyou went to write a couple of things on the whiteboard, and Chuuya took the opportunity to turn around and scowl viciously at Dazai. Dazai was fairly certain his eye was twitching, and a literal vein stood out on his forehead. In return, he offered Chuuya an angelic smile and a peace sign.
(He really wouldn't be surprised at this point if he saw steam coming out of Chuuya's ears.)
Chuuya glared at Dazai for another long moment before facing forward again, just as Kouyou turned back around. Somehow they still weren't even halfway through the syllabus, and Dazai was growing desperately bored.
There was a sudden crunch from the other end of Dazai's row. Dazai glanced over curiously and found that Suehiro was eating something small, white, and roundish that was…most definitely an egg. Most likely hardboiled, but did that really matter when the shell was still on?
Dazai could hear Suehiro chewing the eggshells, and the sound made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The sound grated on Dazai's nerves, and he was certain he'd never wanted to kill himself as much as he did now.
Somehow, Dazai made it through the rest of the syllabus review. Kouyou dismissed them after assigning them the first chapter of their textbook to read. "Be ready to discuss the chapter on Wednesday," she told them.
As the other students began filtering out of the room, Kouyou called, "Dazai-kun and Nakahara-kun, a word?"
Dazai saw Chuuya stiffen and smirked. He didn't care about getting in trouble himself, and now he had the chance to drag Chuuya down with him.
Kouyou looked at them both expectantly. "Well? Are you going to tell me what you were doing during my lecture?"
Dazai put on his best innocent expression and claimed, "Chuuya was distracting me. He kept making funny noises—"
"Because you were pulling my hair, jackass—!"
"Language," Kouyou cut him off sternly.
Chuuya flushed. "Sorry, Kouyou-san. It won't happen again."
"The swearing, or the weird noises?" Dazai chimed in. "Because I'm willing to bet you won't stop swearing anytime soon. He has a vulgar mouth," he added conspiratorially to Kouyou.
Kouyou was unimpressed. "Dazai-kun, if you disrupt my class like that again, I will have to ask you to leave."
That was unexpected, Dazai thought, surprised. "What makes you think this was my fault?" He huffed, hoping he looked significantly offended.
"One of you must be lying," Kouyou replied, "and something tells me Chuuya-kun can't lie to save his life."
Chuuya scowled but said nothing, while Dazai's mind worked to come up with an excuse. In the end he said, "It's fine if you don't believe me. Either way, I'm sure it won't happen again. Right, Chuuu-ya?" He raised his eyebrows at his roommate, who responded with a vicious glare.
"You tell me," he hissed in response.
Kouyou sighed. "It's fine if you don't get along. I couldn't care less, really," she added dryly. "Just please, keep it out of my lecture hall."
Both Dazai and Chuuya nodded, Dazai forcing an apologetic expression and Chuuya somehow looking both mortified and extremely constipated at the same time.
Kouyou looked satisfied with their response. "See you both Wednesday," she said shortly before gathering up her things and leaving the room.
The moment the door shut behind her, Chuuya rounded on Dazai. "How dare you," he snarled.
Dazai put his hands up as Chuuya crowded him up against the lectern. He blinked innocently and said, "Oh, is Chuuya upset that I got him in trouble?"
"No, I'm upset that I have to see your stupid mackerel-looking ass in a class I actually give a damn about!" Chuuya snapped, shoving Dazai roughly.
Dazai grinned despite the sharp pain in his back from hitting the lectern. "Oooh, is Chuuya worried I'm going to ruin this class for him?" He cooed.
"I'm so fucking sick of you," Chuuya spat. "Fucking asshole."
"Trust me," Dazai replied, "the feeling is mutual." He braced himself for a hit that never came. Instead Chuuya backed off, even though he clearly wanted nothing more than to punch Dazai's lights out.
"I'm not falling for that shit," he told Dazai. "I'm not stupid enough that I didn't read the student handbook." The student handbook, which, Dazai knew, explicitly stated that students engaging in violence on school property was strictly forbidden, and grounds for expulsion. For some reason, the dorms had a different—and slightly more relaxed—set of rules, so Chuuya could pretty much do what he wanted in their dorm, but here…
Darn.
Dazai put on a bright smile. "Well, aren't you smart!" He exclaimed. "I never would have guessed that youof all people would be the observant type."
He'd expected that to get a reaction out of Chuuya, but he was wrong. Chuuya remained stoic (well, mostly—one of his eyes was once again twitching subtly) and impassive as he stared Dazai down. "I'm also not as easily affected as you seem to think." He grabbed his bag without another word and made for the door.
"Really?" Dazai called after him, smile widening. "Because it seems to me like you're this close to snapping—" The slam of the lecture room door cut Dazai off, and the smile dropped from his face. He was so sure that he could get Chuuya to hit him. It kind of pissed him off, that he had wasted such a golden opportunity to provoke Chuuya, and on school property no less.
Maybe breaking Chuuya would be harder than he'd initially thought.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
On his way back to the dorm, Dazai stopped by the konbini to get himself a late breakfast. He was finally hungry, at least enough to attempt eating, so he didn't see any reason not to try.
It wasn't until after he'd selected a crab sandwich and brought it up to Atsushi that he realized two things:
He had no money, and He'd forgotten entirely about texting Atsushi.Dazai offered Atsushi a charming smile. "Hey, Atsushi-kun!" He greeted brightly. "I seem to have spent the last of my money this morning, and completely forgot until just now, so—"
Atsushi sighed. "Let me guess, you want me to buy that for you?"
Dazai widened his eyes hopefully. "Would you mind?"
Atsushi shrugged, looking tired. "Just this once," he conceded.
Dazai grinned. "Thank you, Atsushi-kun! You're the best."
Atsushi smiled weakly as he scanned Dazai's sandwich and bagged it before paying himself. "It's no trouble," he told Dazai. "Just pay me back eventually."
"Ah, yes, about that," Dazai said, scratching his head sheepishly. "I really did mean to text you! I've been very busy, you see!" Lie. "But," he added, "how about this: I'll give you my number, and then you can text me to remind me to text you!"
"You…want me to text you to remind you to text me?" Atsushi repeated, confused. "Why don't I just text you?"
"See, that's the beauty of it," Dazai exclaimed. "Either way, you're the one texting me, so I don't have the chance to forget!" He really had been more forgetful of late, and even if he did remember to text, there was a high chance he'd either be too tired or wired to come up with an appropriate message. That stuff took energy and patience, and Dazai only ever possessed one of those at any given time.
"That makes sense," Atsushi agreed, perking up a bit. He took out his phone as Dazai rattled off his phone number. After saving the contact, Atsushi passed over Dazai's pathetic breakfast. "I'll text you when I can," Atsushi promised with a friendly smile.
Dazai accepted the bag with a smile. "Sounds good, Atsushi-kun!" He waved goodbye and headed back to the dorm, putting on his headphones even though he was only crossing the street and blasting Misery Business at full volume. He was certain he could feel himself humming along, but he had no idea how loud he was until he entered his room and Chuuya's eyes locked on him at once. Dazai saw him mouth something—actually, he was probably talking out loud, but Dazai couldn't hear a word he said. It was quite refreshing.
Dazai said, "Sorry, can't hear you" (he thought he did, at least. It was hard to tell if it came out right) at Chuuya as he shut the door behind him. He left his backpack on the floor and went to his bed, now fully singing along to cattle mutilation, strange U.F.O . He was displeased, but not surprised, when a couple of minutes later his headphones were torn away by a scowling Chuuya.
"Would you mind maybe not singing along to your shitty music at the top of your lungs?" He snapped, holding Dazai's headphones out of reach.
Well, they would have been out of reach, if only Chuuya were taller. As it was, Dazai took them back easily. "Buzzkill," he sniffed. "Absolute party pooper. And 'my dead girlfriend' is not shitty, but I'm not surprised you think they are, given your horrible taste in everything else."
Chuuya frowned. "Your dead what now?"
"'My dead girlfriend'," Dazai repeated. "It's a band. Duh. " He felt a bit like a ten-year-old saying that.
It was worth it to watch Chuuya's face turn red, though. "That's a shitty band name," he retorted, glaring at Dazai.
"At least I don't listen to eight hours of whale songs,"Dazai said flatly.
"I only did that to tune out your ugly voice!"
"Actually, I've been told my voice is quite seductive—"
Chuuya made a garbled screaming noise and launched himself at Dazai, who stepped neatly out of the way. However, he wasn't fast enough to avoid Chuuya twice. Chuuya caught him by the arm and squeezed hard enough for Dazai to feel it through his layers. "You have no idea," he breathed, "how badly I want to kill you right now."
Dazai's answering smile was brittle. "Well, then? Why don't you?"
"Because even I'm smart enough to know that I could never get away with murder," Chuuya snapped, tightening his grip marginally and making Dazai wince slightly.
"Well, I guess we're stuck with each other then," Dazai replied. "Now would you please let go? You're going to bruise my lovely skin."
Chuuya eyed his covered arms skeptically even as he released him. "As if anyone will see it. Do you ever wear short sleeves?"
Dazai grinned and pulled up his sleeve, revealing the bandages, and Chuuya flinched. "What do you think, Chuuya?" He simpered. "Do I?"
Chuuya froze momentarily, but recovered quickly. "You're a waste of gauze," he scoffed.
"And you're a mosquito," Dazai shot back. "A tiny, annoying mosquito that I'd very much like to squash."
Chuuya scowled. "I'm hardly the annoying one here."
"Keep telling yourself that."
Chuuya whacked his arm before returning to his own bed and shoving his earbuds roughly in his ears. He refused to look at Dazai, which was a shame. Dazai loved when his face got all pissy and screwed up in disgust.
Anger looked good on Chuuya, especially when Dazai was the cause.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
Chuuya left the room around 5:30, and when he didn't return within the hour, Dazai decided he might as well move the line. He got to work tearing up the tape and carefully placing it back down, but paused when he reached the section on the fridge.
That's odd, Dazai thought. The stain on the fridge that he was certain he'd covered this morning was once again visible. There was no way the tape had moved on its own, which could only mean one thing.
Chuuya was onto Dazai, and he was already retaliating without saying a word.
Dazai sat back on his heels, simultaneously infuriated and impressed. The fact that he'd caught on so quickly…
I really need to stop underestimating this guy, Dazai realized, mildly irritated.
It wasn't so much that he'd met his match as it was that he couldn't predict Chuuya's moves. Even if he had known Chuuya would figure out he was moving the tape, he'd never have guessed that Chuuya would react strategically rather than allowing Dazai to provoke him. He was certainly smarter than Dazai had given him credit for.
Of course, if Chuuya was really smart, he'd have moved out on the first day.
Dazai put the tape back down—there was no point in moving it now—and lazed about the room until Chuuya returned close to nine. Chuuya looked as if he'd just showered, despite the fact that when Dazai last used the bathroom about ten minutes ago, it had been entirely empty. That meant that either Chuuya took five minute showers—Dazai seriously doubted that, given his hygiene standards—or that Chuuya was showering somewhere else.
"You're an athlete, aren't you?" Dazai guessed as Chuuya threw his backpack in a perfect arc onto his bed. He didn't respond, so Dazai continued speculating. "You're certainly not tall enough to be a basketball player," he mused. "So that's out. Which leaves—"
"I play volleyball, okay?" Chuuya snapped. "I'm a libero. Go ahead, laugh it up."
Dazai knew next to nothing about volleyball, let alone the positions, but he was fairly certain… "Liberos are the short ones, right?" He guessed, smirking.
Chuuya groaned. "There it is."
"See, my first thought was to guess that you're a gymnast," Dazai commented, "but you're not quite graceful enough for that, are you?"
Chuuya gave him a flat look. "I don't give a fuck what you say. I'm a damn good player, and ranked as the #2 libero in collegiate volleyball."
"Not #1?"
Chuuya growled and stalked across the room, getting close enough that Dazai could smell his shampoo. It was citrus scented, bright and sharp. Just like Chuuya. "I'm not going to let you make me feel ashamed of that," he said, glaring at Dazai. "You can't."
Dazai shrugged lazily. "I don't need to. I have plenty of other tricks up my sleeve. Speaking of tricks," he changed the subject, "how long have you known?"
Chuuya's face went carefully blank. "I don't know what you mean."
Dazai rolled his eyes. "You can stop with the dumb act. I'm done underestimating you." He couldn't afford to do that if he wanted to win.
"I figured it out two days after you started moving it," Chuuya answered eventually. "It took me longer than I would have liked."
"I was hoping it would have taken you at least a week," Dazai complained. "Your brain must not be pea-sized, after all." Chuuya looked surprised by that, so he added, "It's closer to the size of a walnut, probably."
Chuuya scowled. "Better a small brain than a massive ego."
Dazai snickered. "I'm going to have to disagree with you there, shorty."
" Don't call me—"
"Anyway," Dazai continued seamlessly, "I hope you realize that you've effectively declared war."
"That was the general idea," Chuuya snarked.
"Wonderful," Dazai said, smiling brightly. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into.
"I'm not giving up," Chuuya stated, shoving Dazai away from him.
Dazai's smile sharpened. "We'll see about that."
Yes. Yes. You, too, suck in the oxygen.
The baton's right over there.
Headshot through these noisy thoughts,
Shoot out that beating heart.
—Dramaturgy
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
April 2014
Dazai awoke the following morning at 5 AM to the sound of S&M blaring from Chuuya's phone.
All according to plan.
" DAZAI," Chuuya roared, scrambling to shut off the alarm. "You're so dead!"
Dazai rolled over leisurely and faced Chuuya, blinking innocently. "You don't like that song?"
Chuuya tapped his phone, unfortunately cutting the music off before the chorus. "I don't know that song. Also, it's 5 in the fucking morning!"
"Which means you get to go back to sleep!" Dazai said brightly. "Isn't that nice?" Chuuya growled, and he added, " S&M is a great song, by the way. You should check out the lyrics sometime."
Chuuya paused. "I don't trust you one bit."
Daza grinned. "You shouldn't! Anyway, the song's about BDSM. Know what that is?"
It was too dark to see Chuuya's face, but Dazai was certain he'd gone red at that. "Of course I know what that is, asshole. I'm not that clueless."
"Oh, that's good to hear!" Dazai chirped. "I was really worried for a second there that I'd have to give Chuuya a demonstration."
Chuuya sputtered. "I—just shut the fuck up and go to sleep like a normal person!" He screeched. "How'd you even get into my phone?"
"Chuuya's predictable," Dazai replied. "Setting your password as your own birthday? How very cliche."
Chuuya looked even more pissed off at that. "It's easy to remember, dipshit!"
"I'm sure it is," Dazai said primly.
"Fuck you, you absolute waste of bandages!"
Dazai grinned into the darkness and didn't reply.
The next time he woke, it was to the sound of his own alarm, which he'd changed to Jumbo (math rock was a bit jarring to hear first thing in the morning, but it was certainly an effective wake-up call). It was just after eight, and Chuuya was already gone. Dazai stretched leisurely in bed, enjoying the complete and total silence of the room. Soon, thought Dazai, this will be every morning.
(If all went according to plan, that was.)
Dazai dressed, this time in trousers and a long-sleeve button down because there was no way in hellhe was going to give Yosano the chance to make fun of him for dressing like a scrub. His bandages peeked out of the sleeves and neckline, but Dazai didn't mind. It wasn't like he was showing the true extent of them, anyway.
Then he went to put his socks on, and that was when he encountered a glaring problem: there was not a single sock in his underwear drawer. Now, Dazai had lost plenty of socks over the course of his life, but never in such a short amount of time. That could only mean one thing.
Sabotage.
Dazai groaned and banged his head against the closet door. Why, he despaired. Why socks? There was no way he could stand the texture of his shoes without them, and he'd woken up just late enough that going out to buy a pair before his 9 AM class was out of the question. He could just show up late, of course, but this was the class that Yosano was T.A.'ing, and he wasn't too keen on getting a lecture from (or more likely, being made fun of by) her on the very first day.
That left him only one option.
Dazai crossed the tape line to Chuuya's side of the room and unceremoniously yanked open his underwear drawer. The socks would likely be a size or two too small for Dazai, and would scrunch down inside his shoes.
This sucked.
Dazai selected a red cashmere pair that didn't look entirely too small and pulled them on. Surprisingly, they stretched right over his feet—the soft, thin cashmere was more flexible than he would have thought—and didn't scrunch at all when he pulled on his shoes. Satisfied, Dazai checked to make sure he had his wallet in his backpack, along with his worn, partially-used notebook and secondhand Anatomy textbook, before heading out.
He'd gotten paid via direct deposit late last night, so he had enough money on his card to buy himself a coffee before class. He ended up getting himself a pastry as well, which he ate on the way to the science department, since having food in the labs was strictly forbidden.
Dazai arrived at the Anatomy lab a few minutes before nine. Yosano was nowhere in sight, and neither was their professor, Mori Ougai. The room itself was large and windowless, with a counter that ran along the perimeter of the room and cabinets built into the walls above it. Smaller tables were scattered throughout the center of the room, with two students per table. Dazai was willing to bet that whoever he sat by, he'd be stuck with as a lab partner.
Of course, there was only one seat remaining, and it was at the very back. Dazai made his way down the rows, and then stopped in his tracks when he saw who the other person at the table was.
Fucking hell.
Chuuya was scrolling on his phone, and had yet to notice Dazai's presence. Dazai unceremoniously slammed his backpack onto the table, making Chuuya jump, and said, "I didn't realize they let dogs in the Anatomy labs!"
Chuuya's head whipped up, and he gave Dazai his most vicious glare. "Get lost, shithead."
Dazai clucked his tongue and slid into the seat beside Chuuya's. "Now, now! That's no way to talk to your new lab partner."
"I'm not your fucking partner," Chuuya snapped. "Go away."
"Unfortunately, I can't," Dazai replied, gesturing to the room at large. Chuuya glanced around, seemingly surprised by how full the room had grown. He must have been pretty zoned out, Dazai realized.
Chuuya let out a beleaguered groan. "I can't believe I'm stuck with you here, too," he grouched.
Dazai shrugged and kicked his feet up onto the table, pants riding up over his ankles to show the stolen socks (which were actually comfortable as hell) . Chuuya glanced at his feet in disgust that soon changed to recognition. "Are those my socks?" He all but screeched, pointing at Dazai's feet.
"They might be," Dazai replied. "Who's asking?"
"You're disgusting," Chuuya spat.
"I'll give them back when you tell me where you hid all of mine," Dazai bit back. "You drove me to this, after all."
"Yeah, well, you drive me to murder on the daily, but you don't see me following through with it, do you?" Chuuya snapped.
The guy at the table in front of them, who had ginger-ish hair, piercings and a bandaid over his nose, glanced back at Chuuya. "You good, bro?"
Chuuya groaned again. "No," he grumbled. "I'm stuck with a stupid beanpole."
The guy looked at Dazai, and Dazai smiled innocently in response. "Dazai Osamu," he introduced cheerfully, holding out a hand.
"Tachihara Michizou," the guy said, shaking his hand warily. "You're the roommate?"
"From hell," Chuuya said as Dazai said, "Sure thing!"
Tachihara glanced back at Chuuya and said, "I get it now."
"Oh, has Chuuya been talking about me?" Dazai gushed. "How sweet!"
"Talking shit about you," Chuuya corrected.
"Any press is good press," Dazai spouted.
"What are you, some trashy celebrity?"
"I'm certainly hot enough to be one, aren't I?" Dazai preened.
"That was not meant as a compliment—"
"Attention, please!" A man called from the front of the room, startling Dazai and Chuuya. He must have been a light walker, because Dazai hadn't even noticed him enter the room. He was kind of slimy looking, Dazai decided almost at once. His greasy black hair was pulled back into a low, short ponytail, and his eyes were magenta like Yosano's, though somehow even scarier. He wore a white lab coat over his clothes, and his smile was cheerful, but something about his presence was undoubtedly menacing.
Yosano stood beside Mori, dressed in a similar lab coat. She smirked at Dazai when he caught her eye, and Dazai realized with no small amount of horror that she had seen him fighting with Chuuya. If she hadn't put together the pieces already, she would soon enough.
I'm gonna get so much shit for this, Dazai groaned internally.
"You may call me Mori-sensei, or Mori-san," Mori continued, "and this is my teaching assistant, Yosano Akiko!" He gestured at Yosano, who gave him an unimpressed look in return. "As you may have guessed, the person next to you will be your lab partner for the remainder of the year."
"I'm going to fucking kill myself," Dazai heard Chuuya mutter.
"That's my line, shrimp," Dazai mumbled under his breath. He could tell Chuuya heard him, but unfortunately the insult didn't provoke him.
"I'll be taking roll now," Mori announced. "Seeing as all the seats are filled, this is really just a formality, and a way for me to learn all your names. Where's Akutagawa Gin?" The person sitting next to Tachihara raised their hand, and Mori nodded before continuing down the list. When he finally got to Chuuya, Yosano made eye contact with Dazai, eyebrows raised. Dazai narrowed his eyes at her and mouthed, 'don't'.
Yosano just shrugged and smirked again. She didn't even need to say a word (she would later, though. Of that, Dazai was sure).
Sure enough, the moment Mori had finished talking and passed out a 'partner questionnaire' to each pair, Yosano made her way over to Dazai and Chuuya's table.
"Huh," she said, hands on her hips as she looked Chuuya up and down. "So you are short! I totally called that," she said smugly, glancing at Dazai.
Chuuya looked both confused and irked. "You two know each other?"
"I'm Dazai's friend, unfortunately," Yosano replied.
" Rude," Dazai complained. "And I never said he wasn't short!"
"You said he was 'ugly, boring and tall'," Yosano corrected.
"Oi," Chuuya barked at Dazai. "Who're you callin' ugly? Also, tall? Are you blind?"
Dazai grimaced, not meeting his eyes. "I might have lied about the height."
Yosano gave him a look. "Oh, because you didn't want us to think he's your—"
"Roommate? Exactly," Dazai cut her off quickly. "Anyway, the munchkin and I ought to get to work—"
" Oi!"
"But I'll see you later?" He finished, begging Yosano with his eyes not to finish her sentence.
For a moment he thought she'd do it anyway, but eventually she rolled her eyes and said, "Fine. I'll leave it for now, but you can bet I'm telling Ranpo about this." She left without another word.
Chuuya still looked baffled. "Why would you tell her I'm not your roommate?"
Dazai floundered. "Uh—"
"I couldn't follow any of that," Chuuya groaned without waiting for Dazai to reply. "Whatever. Let's just get this thing done." He waved at the 'partner questionnaire', and Dazai took a moment to thank whatever gods existed that he didn't read too far into the situation.
(Not that any of that mattered, because Dazai wasn't gay, and even if he were, Chuuya would not be his type.)
"First question," Chuuya stated. "What year were you born?"
"1992," Dazai replied. "And you?" Speaking civilly made Dazai feel like he was chewing glass, but it was still better than watching Chuuya and Yosano interact for another moment.
"Also 1992," Chuuya said, not looking at Dazai as he made a note on the sheet. "What's your major?"
"Japanese Lit," Dazai drawled.
"I'm a poetry major," Chuuya supplied. Dazai had known that already, thanks to his extensive research on Chuuya, but he made a face anyway.
Chuuya scowled and said, "What? Poetry not good enough for your pompous ass?"
"Poetry is too abstract," Dazai stated. "Literature is storytelling. "
"So is poetry," Chuuya argued.
"Too. Abstract," Dazai repeated. "Next question?"
Chuuya huffed. "Favorite food?"
"Crab," Dazai replied. "Specifically, canned crab."
Chuuya scribbled another note and said, "Mine's chocolate. Only the dark kind, though."
Dazai wrinkled his nose. "I don't know how you eat that bitter stuff." Dazai's dislike of pain extended to his taste buds, so he stuck to foods that were safe in that regard. He only made exceptions for coffee and alcohol, seeing as they were both generally necessary to maintain his sanity.
"It's good," Chuuya argued. "All bittersweet stuff is."
"You probably don't take sugar in your coffee either, huh?" Dazai guessed. "Pretentious freak."
"And I'm sure your coffee is at least 50% sugar," Chuuya snarked. "Toddler."
Dazai huffed, unwilling to admit Chuuya was right. "Whatever. What's the next question?"
Chuuya checked the list. "Favorite animal?"
"Crab. Specifically, Japanese spider crab," Dazai answered at once.
Chuuya gave him a long look. "Your favorite food is crab."
"Yes."
"And your favorite animal is also—"
"Crab? Yep!" Dazai replied.
"Isn't that, like…" Chuuya struggled for a minute before saying, "a conflict of interest, or something?"
Dazai snickered. "There are approximately 4,500 crab species, you know. I don't eat Japanese spider crab, specifically. " He paused. "I think." Dazai realized suddenly that he didn't actually know what species of crab was usually canned. Should probably look that up later, he noted (not that he was too concerned that Japanese spider crabs were easy to come by—they were notoriously difficult to hunt, due to the fact that they dwelled at depths up to 600 meters).
"Fuckin' weirdo," Chuuya muttered. "Mine's African wild dog."
"I don't even know what that is," Dazai told him. "But it figures that you'd be a dog person."
Chuuya huffed, eyes narrowed at Dazai. "They're really cool, okay? And they can run up to 70 kilometers per hour! Way superior to your dumb crab," he added haughtily.
Dazai frowned. He could take insults, but Japanese spider crab slander was out of the question. "My 'dumb crabs', as you call them, are the largest living crustaceans and can grow up to be almost 4 meters wide. They could probably kill Chuuya if they wanted to," he added as an afterthought, "but they wouldn't, because they're gentle giants."
"Yeah, well, African wild dogs contribute to natural selection," Chuuya bit back. "They're a very important part of their ecosystem."
"Them and every other predator on the planet," Dazai said, rolling his eyes. "They're not special."
Chuuya glared at him. "Have you seen them?"
"Obviously not," Dazai answered.
Chuuya immediately grabbed his phone, not bothering to shield the screen from view as he typed in his password. He hadn't changed it yet, so either he was waiting to do that for some reason, or, more likely, he'd forgotten about the alarm entirely.
Dazai watched as he tapped away at the screen, face screwed up in concentration. He looks so stupid,Dazai thought, barely resisting the urge to reach out and poke Chuuya's furrowed eyebrows. He likely would have given in to the temptation if not for the fact that a moment later Chuuya had an image pulled up on his phone, which he stubbornly shoved at Dazai. " Look at them and tell me they're not cool," he argued.
Dazai examined the animal on the screen. The giant ears were dorky yet endearing, and its coat was gorgeous, but Dazai refused to let any of that show on his face. "Meh."
Chuuya looked like he was about to boil over. "What do you mean, 'meh'?"
Dazai shrugged. "Japanese spider crabs are wayyy cooler." He pulled up an image on his phone and displayed it to Chuuya. "See?"
Chuuya looked horrified. "What is that thing?"
"A Japanese spider crab, Chuuya, keep up!" Dazai said impatiently. "Isn't it neat?"
"It's an eldritch horror," Chuuya said bluntly.
"I told you, they're gentle giants!"
"If I saw that thing in real life, I'd run the other way as fast as I could, no questions asked," Chuuya informed him.
Dazai wrinkled his nose. "I'd expect nothing less from such a tasteless buffoon."
"Better that than a pretentious asshole," Chuuya retorted.
"Oh, I'm the pretentious one, Mr. Black-Coffee-Drinker-slash-fedora-wearer?"
"It's a pork pie, you piece of shit—"
They tried to continue working on the questionnaire, they really did. Even so, by the time Mori called the class's attention once more, they'd only gotten through seven out of nineteen questions.
"All right," Mori announced. "Go ahead and pass your questionnaires to the front, unless you didn't finish, in which case you can hand them in next week. Make sure you get it done, or I'll have to enter it as a zero, which would be such a shame!" His eyes gleamed as if he liked the sound of students failing his class already, which only made Dazai more determined to get it done.
Chuuya groaned and shoved their questionnaire into his huge, three-ring binder that seemed entirely excessive to Dazai. It was at least good for storing things, probably. Dazai tended to tuck all of his homework, essays and other miscellaneous papers into his notebook, where they often got wrinkled and dog-eared (if they didn't fall out entirely). Ango thought his habits were appalling, and had attempted to talk Dazai into buying folders for his assignments—and a planner—on multiple occasions, which Dazai thought was stupid. He had no reason to keep physical copies when the information was already filed away in his head.
Mori passed out copies of the syllabus before dismissing them just after 10:30, almost two hours before the class officially ended. Dazai left with a quick wave at Yosano—she was busy talking to Mori, but she still shot him a small smile as he backed out the doorway. She'd already promised to come by Bar Lupin after her shift at the hospital later, so he'd see her soon enough. Dazai was already dreading the inevitable conversation about Chuuya.
Chuuya, who had gone to the front to hover near Mori and Yosano, likely in a vain attempt to convince Mori to let him switch partners. Dazai probably should have been trying for that as well, but on the other hand, being Chuuya's lab partner would give him ample opportunity for sabotage. Mori might have come across as laid back to most people, but Dazai could tell he was a hardass when it came down to it. If Dazai could provoke Chuuya to hit him just once in front of Mori, it would be game over for Chuuya.
Dazai smiled as he strolled back to the dorm. The sun was out, and a light breeze ruffled Dazai's hair. It really was a beautiful day to scheme.
Chuuya didn't return to the room until around 12:30, announcing his presence with his typical door slam that Dazai heard even as he blasted music at full volume in his headphones. He winced and pulled his headphones off to say, "I know you're a jock and all, but you really don't need to go around slamming doors like that."
Chuuya scowled. "That was hardly a slam."
"I don't know what you qualify as a slam, but it most certainly was, slug," Dazai said pointedly.
Chuuya glared at Dazai, looking as if he'd like nothing more than to pummel him. "Ooh, is Chuuya holding himself back?" Dazai said, giving him his widest, blankest, most intentionally infuriating smile. "No need to do that! I can take a beating, remember?"
"For someone who claims to dislike pain, you seem to like getting beaten up an awful lot," Chuuya observed, dumping his backpack onto his desk chair.
Dazai shrugged. "Anything to get you kicked out!"
Chuuya rolled his eyes. "Right."
Dazai rolled his eyes right back, exaggerating the movement just to piss Chuuya off, before pointedly putting his headphones over his ears and flipping onto his stomach. He buried his face in his pillow, letting the slow, deep melody of Virgin Suicide eclipse the commotion in his head and drown out the rapid pulse in his ears.
Your smile would probably kill me, we only ever talk about stupid things. I'd like to experience it at least once, there might not be a second time.
So show me the easiest way to do it.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
Around 3:10, Dazai left for class. He barely registered Chuuya following him, at least until he was halfway to the literature department. He pulled his headphones off and said, "Well, if it isn't le petit prince! Did you miss me so much that you had to follow me?" He batted his eyelashes at Chuuya.
Chuuya was scowling, which appeared to be his default expression around Dazai. "As if, freak! My class is this way, too."
Dazai experienced a sudden feeling of dread. " Pleasetell me you're not taking Advanced Japanese Literature."
Chuuya stopped in his tracks. "Oh my god," he groaned. "No fucking way. I can't do this again."
"Trust me, I'm not happy about it either, hat rack,"Dazai shot back.
"If you sit next to me again, I swear to god—"
"Don't you worry, my little oompa loompa," Dazai replied, barely masking his irritation. "Just for today, I'll find someone else to annoy."
He was mostly bluffing, but as it turned out, Kunikida was in their class. Dazai sat directly behind him, while Chuuya took a seat across the room. The only other person in the class Dazai recognized was Lucy, Oda's favorite barista. Dazai offered her a wide smile, and she turned up her nose in return. She and Chuuya will get along, no doubt about it, Dazai thought sourly.
There were still a few minutes before class started, so Dazai leaned forward and poked Kunikida's back with his pen. "Ku-ni-ki-da-kun~" Dazai sang, smiling triumphantly when Kunikida stiffened, shoulders rising to meet his ears. "What's a math major like you doing in Advanced Japanese Literature? Are you lost, perhaps?"
Kunikida looked over his shoulder at Dazai, scowling. "I happen to be minoring in Japanese Lit, for your information."
That wasn't in his file, Dazai realized. Or maybe he just hadn't dug deep enough; it's not like he'd ever seen Kunikida as a threat, after all. "Ah. What a studious soul you are, Kunikida-kun!"
"I'd like to think so," Kunikida replied curtly. A vein bulged in his forehead, and Dazai grinned smugly at the reaction. Kunikida was almost as fun to rile up as Chuuya.
Their professor, Hirotsu Ryurou, appeared just before nine. He was old, at least by Dazai's standards, and looked relatively serious. Predictably, he started off by taking roll call, and then reviewed the syllabus, thankfully at a pace that wasn't too excruciating for Dazai to bear.
"Now that we've gotten those out of the way, I will explain the parameters of your first assignment," Hirotsu announced after. Dazai groaned inwardly as he continued, "I didn't include this one in the syllabus because it won't technically be graded. You can consider it extra credit, as well as a way to get me on your side. Write a short biography for yourself, 500 words or less, in 12 pt. Times New Roman font, and double spaced. Make sure to introduce yourself properly, and include details that will intrigue your readers." Hirotsu paused before adding, "Consider this practice for the future biographies you will write, and a way for me to get to know you as well. See you all next week."
Hirotsu gathered his things in silence and left before any of them had gotten up from their seats.
Dazai sighed dramatically. "Thank god that was short," he said, loud enough for Kunikida to hear. "I was about three seconds away from dying of boredom!"
"I wish you would," Dazai heard Kunikida reply under his breath.
Dazai smirked and poked his back again. "Kunikida-kun is so mean to me!" He wailed theatrically. "Such a bully!"
"You deserve to be bullied," Chuuya said as he passed them on his way to the door.
"I agree with Chuuya-san," Lucy seconded on her way out.
"Rude, and uncalled for!" Dazai called after them.
He ended up following Kunikida all the way back to their dorm, chattering his ear off the whole way and not even trying to repress a gleeful smirk every time Kunikida ground his teeth. Dazai trailed him all the way to his dorm room, where Kunikida unceremoniously slammed the door in his face. Dazai didn't mind it half as much as he did when Chuuya did it.
Chuuya was on his bed, earbuds in and nose buried in a textbook that Dazai recognized from when he took Kajii-san's Chemistry 101 course his first year of college. It was kind of weird that Chuuya was only now getting his science requirement done, but then again, it was possible that not all of his credits had transferred over from his old school.
Dazai flopped onto his bed after chucking his backpack onto his desk. It was a sloppy throw, and likely would have knocked something off the desk if the surface wasn't entirely devoid of objects.
He didn't have work until 10 PM, which left him with approximately six hours to kill, thanks to how short their class had been. Dazai was so desperately bored that he ended up sitting at his desk and starting his biography for Japanese lit, since he knew he wouldn't want to do it later.
Dazai Osamu is—
Dazai paused, frowning. He was a student who worked part time at a bar, but was he even allowed to say that?
Doesn't matter, he decided before continuing. Dazai Osamu is a student at Yokohama City College. He is majoring in Japanese Literature, and currently works at Bar Lupin. In his free time, Dazai enjoys—
Dazai paused again, staring intently at the page as various ideas clamored for his attention. — listening to music, he ended up writing. He is especially passionate about math rock. He would consider himself a cat person, if asked. Also, he thinks that Japanese spider crabs are really neat.
Dazai sighed and gave up on the assignment for the time being. If he was being honest with himself, he'd probably just turn the biography in as it was, but he wanted to believe that he could do better than that.
(Could he, though? It wasn't as if he could make it sound any better than it did; he was a college student, a lit major, a bartender, a music enthusiast, a cat person and a Japanese spider crab enjoyer. He was nothing more or less than any of that.)
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
Dazai left for work around 9:30, just as his stomach began consuming itself. He hadn't eaten anything since the pastry he'd had that morning, so he supposed that made sense. As he walked, he checked his phone and saw he had a text from Atsushi. I'll read it later, Dazai thought before putting his phone back in his pocket.
Oda and Ango were just leaving when Dazai arrived at Bar Lupin. Oda ruffled his hair on his way out the door, and Dazai made a face as if he didn't like it, but they both knew better. His shift started out slow, which was understandable, seeing as it was a Tuesday night. Dazai made drinks for the few patrons, but mostly killed time talking to Sensei and doodling creative suicides on an old receipt he found on the floor.
Ranpo showed up a bit after 1 AM, just as the itch beneath Dazai's skin began to grow unbearable. Yosano would be getting off work right about then, so she'd likely be over soon, but it was still odd to see Ranpo arrive before her.
"Get me a cream soda," Ranpo ordered Dazai as he sat at the bar. "Extra foam." Dazai rolled his eyes but obliged, even going as far as to shake the bottle a bit before opening it. He only barely managed not to let the foam overflow as he poured it into a tall glass and added a straw and a tiny umbrella (because he knew Ranpo went feral for those).
After passing over the drink he said, "So? What brings the great Edogawa Ranpo to our humble establishment?"
Ranpo sipped his drink, acquiring a foam mustache in the process. He licked it off and said, "A little birdie told me you ended up stuck with your roomie as a lab partner."
Dazai groaned. "Yes, I'm stuck with the slimy slug," he confirmed. "And?"
Ranpo's eyes glinted. "She also said he's short."
"And?" Dazai repeated.
Ranpo shrugged and took another gulp of the soda. "You put it together."
Dazai sighed. "Even if you were hypothetically right about my type, you're forgetting a very important detail, which is that Chuuya is a guy."
"And?" Ranpo parroted.
"And I'm straight," Dazai informed him. "A fact which you and Yosano seem to forget an awful lot."
Ranpo waved a hand lazily. "Everyone's straight until they're not."
Dazai knew a losing fight when he saw one. "Think what you like. I know the truth."
Ranpo shrugged again. "Sure you do."
Dazai heard the door above them creak open and slam shut, and then heels on the stairs that descended to the bar.
"Hello, boys," Yosano chirped. She sounded chipper, but her eyes were tired. Dazai wondered how long she'd been on her feet for.
Before he could ask her if she wanted a drink, Ranpo said, "Yosano, describe Chuuya to me."
Dazai rubbed his forehead in exasperation as Yosano replied, "He's even shorter than I am, by maybe six or seven centimeters? It's hard to tell for certain, especially with that stupid hat he wears."
"Isn't it dumb?" Dazai chimed in, hoping to drive the conversation in a direction that would wind up making fun of Chuuya rather than him. "His fashion sense is atrocious—"
"He's attractive, though," Yosano cut in, not the least bit dissuaded by Dazai's attempt to divert her attention. "Orange hair, kinda shaggy and unevenly cut but it works for him. Blue eyes, too. He looks interesting, that's for sure."
Ranpo nodded slowly and glanced at Dazai, smirking evilly. "So would you say he's Dazai's type?"
"I'm not—"
"Definitely," Yosano interrupted. Dazai shot her a dirty look, and she added, "Well, he would be if Dazai were into guys. Clearly he's not, though. This man is as straight as they come." Her tone was excessively laced with sarcasm that Dazai found both unnecessary and insulting.
"I'll have you know—" he started, but Ranpo cut him off.
"Straight as a staircase," he agreed with Yosano. Dazai frowned and opened his mouth to ask what the hell that meant, and Ranpo amended, "A spiral staircase, that is."
Yosano snickered, and Ranpo looked unbearably smug.
"Ha ha," Dazai drawled. "So funny. Now that you're done questioning my very secure sexuality—" there was another round of laughter at that from Yosano, and Dazai gave her a half-hearted glare "—can we please change the subject?"
"Not until you admit that your roommate is your type," Ranpo countered. "I've got a bet riding on this."
"Who bet against you?" Yosano said incredulously.
"Ango," Ranpo replied. "He's convinced that Dazai's more likely to provoke Chuuya into killing him than doing…other things. I politely disagree."
Dazai smiled viciously. "You just lost to Ango, then. I'd much rather die than do other things with such a horrid creature."
Ranpo and Yosano exchanged a glance. "Dazai, be honest," Yosano said. "If Chuuya were a girl, would you be attracted to him?"
"No, because I'm not attracted to dogs," Dazai replied airily.
Ranpo sighed. "Just leave it," he told Yosano. "He'll figure it out eventually."
"There's nothing to figure out," Dazai said curtly. "Now are you going to drink, or are you going to leave? I'm afraid there's no 'loitering' option tonight."
Yosano rolled her eyes but said, "I'll take the Sauvignon Blanc. Fill the glass to the brim or I'm not tipping you shit."
Dazai obeyed, and Yosano passed him 2000 yen, more than enough to cover the wine and tip. Dazai tried to give her change, but she put up her hand. "Keep it. When's the last time you ate, Dazai?" She said pointedly.
Ranpo eyed Dazai shrewdly as he floundered. "Well," he hedged, "I know I ate before Anatomy—"
"Dazai, that was like, 15 hours ago," Yosano said, exasperated.
Dazai shrugged, offering them a sheepish smile. "Guess I just forgot!"
Yosano sighed. "Dude. Please buy yourself something to eat after this."
Ranpo silently passed over one of his 'emergency lollipops'. Dazai took it gratefully, even though it was a mystery-flavored one and those always scared him a little bit. When he put it in his mouth, it tasted like artificial strawberries. It did distract him (sort of) from the yawning pit in his stomach.
"Do you have food at home?" Yosano checked.
"Nah, but I'm gonna go grocery shopping tomorrow after class," Dazai said dismissively. He actually hadn't planned on doing that, but he needed to do it eventually, and getting it done sooner would get his friends off his back.
Yosano eyed him, like she knew he'd made that up on the spot. "You'd better."
Ranpo said nothing, but it was clear he wasn't fooled, either. They knew he was backsliding, and there was nothing Dazai could do or say to convince them otherwise.
No matter how hard he tried to hold it together, the cracks in Dazai's carefully constructed facade were beginning to show.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
Dazai dragged himself back to the dorm around 4 AM. Ranpo and Yosano had stayed until 3, but that had left him with a whole hour of boredom before he could close, and of course some drunkard had spilled his beer all over Dazai immediately after he'd changed back into his regular clothes, so Dazai reeked.
After peeling off his dirty clothes and chucking them into the hamper, Dazai crept over to Chuuya's side of the room. He was fast asleep, soft snores punctuating the heavy silence. It was easy, all too easy, to steal Chuuya's phone. Guessing the correct password took Dazai a minute, but no more than that. Chuuya thought he was sooo clever, but in truth he was no match for Dazai.
Dazai set an alarm for 5 AM before setting the phone back on Chuuya's nightstand. After quickly skimming the first chapter of his psychology textbook (it was an introduction to cognitive psychology, which was actually quite interesting stuff) Dazai went to brush his teeth, and by the time he climbed into bed it was close to 4:30. Dazai tossed and turned for a few minutes before realizing that at this rate, he'd still be awake when Chuuya's alarm went off. He sighed and forced himself out of bed to grab his headphones from his desk.
After putting Virgin Suicide on repeat, Dazai lay back and stared at a tiny dark spot on the ceiling, brain filled with static and thrumming music. He must have been really tired, because the song only played twice before Dazai's eyes slipped shut