If only I hadn't figured it out
Laugh at myself while I stumble around
Just can't understand loneliness or love,
So I threw away this human form of mine.
—Dramaturgy
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April 2014
"I don't understand why I can't just live with you both," Dazai whined, drumming his fingers against the center console. Ango had gotten the passenger's seat, to Dazai's chagrin, which meant that the radio was tuned in to a classical jazz station. Dazai hated classical jazz. "I don't wanna live in the dorms again. No one who's older does that."
"We only have the two bedrooms," Oda reminded him. "So unless you want to keep sleeping on the couch—"
There was a choking sound. "God no," Ango said vehemently. "I barely slept at all last week, thanks to your incessant sleep mumbling." Since students weren't allowed to stay on campus past the move out date, Dazai stayed with Oda and Ango until he was allowed to move into his new dorm. Truthfully, Dazai hadn't gotten much sleep while he stayed with them either, but it was still nice to be in an actual apartment for once, even one with paper-thin walls and a cramped couch that was borderline painful for someone of Dazai's height.
Still…
"Ouch," complained Dazai. "I can't believe you would be so rude!"
"If you weren't such a suicidal maniac I'd recommend sleep medication, but—"
"We're here," Oda announced, cutting off their bickering before it could escalate into a shouting match (well, Ango would shout. Dazai kept his cool no matter what).
Dazai leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of Oda's seat. He didn't actually need to examine his surroundings—he'd explored every corner of campus during his first year, back when he was young and impressionable—but he did it anyway.
The campus was packed with students already, criss-crossing the lawn with boxes and luggage in hand. Most of the students were accompanied by their families, and congregated outside the first year dorms. The majority of the older students preferred the dorms that were a short walk away from campus, but occasionally first years lived there, too. Dazai would prefer to live with someone close to his age, but he wasn't that picky, as long as his roommate was relatively sane and respected his boundaries.
Oda pulled into the parking lot, which was so crowded that there wasn't a single parking space in sight. Ango cursed quietly as Oda rolled slowly down one row, scanning the lines of cars. Just as the task began to feel impossible, Dazai noticed a car that had its rear lights on. "That one's leaving," he said immediately, pointing at the car.
Unfortunately, Dazai wasn't the only one who noticed it.
The red was what caught his attention first. It was a motorcycle in a striking shade of crimson, so bright it almost hurt to look at. The guy who occupied the ride looked to be around Dazai's age, though it was hard to tell from this angle. He wore a black leather jacket that must have been sweltering in the direct sunlight, and his hair was an unusual shade of orange. Dazai wondered if the color was natural.
He didn't appear to notice Oda's car loitering nearby, or maybe he was intentionally ignoring them. His loss, thought Dazai smugly.
"Oda," he said, voice low, "get ready to gun it."
"Got it," Oda replied.
Ango frowned disapprovingly. "I don't know if that's the best idea," he tried.
"I can't say I care," Dazai replied as the car pulled out of the space. It pulled out in the direction of Motorcycle Guy, so their path was still clear. "Ready, Oda? Three, two, one—"
Before Dazai got to zero, and the very moment the car was fully out of the way, Oda put his foot to the gas pedal and accelerated into the spot, braking jerkily the moment he was within the lines. He adjusted his parking job before shutting off the engine and letting out a breath.
"I can't believe that worked," Ango muttered. "Pretty lucky the car backed out in the other direction, or else—"
"Oi!"
Dazai glanced out the window and smiled slowly. It appeared that Motorcycle Guy was pissy about losing the parking space. Dazai scooched over to the door and yanked the handle before sliding out of the car.
"Got a problem?" He chirped, smiling pleasantly at Motorcycle Guy.
Motorcycle Guy's ears turned red as he sputtered. "Yes," he snapped. "You stole my fucking spot!"
Dazai cocked his head. "Did we, now? I was unaware that we had assigned parking spots!"
"We don't," Motorcycle Guy said, annoyed. "But I was clearly waiting for that one."
"Yes, well, finders keepers!" Dazai said primly. "I'm sure you can find another spot for that…bike. It's so small, it'll fit pretty much anywhere!"
Motorcycle Guy swore under his breath and hopped off the motorcycle, stalking over to Dazai. His height gave Dazai momentary shock; he was a good twenty centimeters shorter than Dazai, at the very least. He stopped about a foot away and jabbed his finger into Dazai's chest before snarling, "Do you realize that motorcycles require an actual parking space?"
Dazai sighed, unimpressed. "Does it look like that matters to me?"
Motorcycle Guy's eyes narrowed. "You—"
"Sorry, shorty!" Dazai sang, pushing past Motorcycle Guy and bumping shoulders—or arm-to-shoulder, at least—with him in the process. "I've got to claim the good side of the room before the roomie arrives, you know how it is!"
Motorcycle Guy literally growled , but Dazai ignored him in favor of helping Ango and Oda unload Dazai's belongings from the back of the car. Behind him, Dazai heard Motorcycle Guy huff angrily and swear again— how vulgar, thought Dazai—before revving his stupid little bike and speeding off.
There were only four boxes total, along with a suitcase and a backpack. Dazai took the latter two, leaving the boxes to Oda and Ango. Oda could certainly handle the weight; Ango was visibly struggling, but Dazai knew he would manage.
As they crossed campus, Dazai glanced around, taking in the green grass and blooming cherry blossom trees. Neat paths divided the lawn into triangular sections and students milled about, enjoying the unseasonably warm spring day.
Dazai's dorm, Ao Hall, was two blocks away from campus. It was an old structure with a faded blue paint job that used to be an apartment complex until the school had bought it and turned it into a dorm. The lobby was packed with people, most of them loitering around the elevator. There was a line long enough to dissuade Dazai from waiting; anyway, he was only on the second floor (he was only mildly disappointed that killing himself via autodefenestration was most certainly not an option).
The second floor hallway was nearly as crowded as the lobby had been. Pushing between two groups of students, Dazai dug out the key he'd received in the mail last month. It had been a while since he'd last used one; as it turned out, knowing how to pick locks had cursed Dazai to carelessness when it came to keeping track of keys.
He stopped in front of room 227 and unlocked the door. The room was blissfully empty, with not a roommate in sight. The space itself was small and sparsely furnished, with a bed pushed against each wall and desks in between. The beds were high so that they could accommodate dressers underneath, and there were a couple of closets on either side of the door. Their dorm had no kitchen, but a microwave sat atop the mini fridge, which was pushed between the two desks. A window loomed over, providing a decent view of Mitsuzawa Park, and the bay was distantly visible as well, though mostly blocked by tall buildings.
Dazai considered both sides of the room before choosing the right. If his calculations stood correct, it would get less light in the morning, especially in the winter. The windows had blinds, of course, but there was always the chance that Dazai would get stuck with a—god forbid— early riser.
Dazai dumped his bags onto the bed and turned to Oda and Ango. "You can leave them anywhere," he said, gesturing at the boxes. Ango set them down on the floor, still panting heavily, while Oda placed his on the bed beside Dazai's luggage. He didn't look as if he'd so much as broken a sweat, despite the hoodie he wore and the distinct lack of air conditioning units in the dorm. Summer in this building would be miserable, Dazai could already tell.
"Do you want us to help you unpack?" Ango asked hesitantly.
"Nah," Dazai said dismissively. "I can handle the rest. Thanks for the ride!"
"Of course," said Oda. "It was no trouble."
Dazai opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door being thrown open violently. Dazai was facing away from the door, so he couldn't see his new roommate, but Ango could, and his face went pale. That, coupled with the excessively aggressive entrance, told Dazai enough to know who it was.
Dazai sighed loftily and turned around slowly. "Hey there, shrimp," he drawled. "You lost, or am I actually stuck with you?"
Motorcycle Guy dropped the two duffel bags he was holding. Dazai watched his face as it morphed from confusion, to recognition, and finally to anger. " You!"
"Yes, me!" Dazai said pleasantly. "Now seriously, are you lost? Please tell me you're lost."
"I'm not fucking lost," Motorcycle Guy snapped.
Dazai made a face. "Then I suppose you must be Nakahara Chuuya, age 22, third year exchange student from Tokyo U?"
Motorcycle Guy's mouth dropped open. "How the fuck do you know all that?" He said in disbelief.
"Your name was provided, the rest was research," Dazai said, already growing bored. "So you are, then?"
"I am," Chuuya gritted out. "Who're you?"
Dazai sniffed. "Dazai Osamu," he replied.
Chuuya scoffed. "I'd say nice to meet you, but I think that ship has sailed."
"I think you mean 'that car has parked'," Dazai corrected, smiling sweetly.
"I can't believe this," Chuuya muttered under his breath. "I can't believe I'm stuck with such a—"
Ango cleared his throat, cutting off Chuuya's statement. "Apologies for earlier," he told Chuuya. "It's unfortunate that it turned out like that, but I can assure you that Dazai's not usually—"
"Yes, I am!" Dazai interjected cheerfully. "I'm very much the asshole that this little slug believes me to be, and there's only enough room for one asshole here. Don't you think, shorty?" Dazai raised an eyebrow, staring Chuuya down.
A vein popped out on Chuuya's forehead, but he ignored Dazai and turned to Ango. "I don't blame you," Chuuya assured him. "He must be difficult to put up with."
"Very much so," Oda chimed in.
Dazai scowled. "Hey!"
"But," Oda added calmly, "we have our reasons for sticking around."
"Not really helping," Dazai said under his breath.
Oda shrugged. "Sorry."
"We should get going," Ango broke in. "Unless there's anything else you need." He was watching Dazai cautiously, as if he wasn't sure he could trust him not to mess with Chuuya.
He was right to think that way, Dazai decided. He'd be crazy not to provoke his roommate. How else would he drive him to switch rooms?
"I can take it from here," Dazai replied. "Quick question, though: how do I request a room change? For him, of course. I'll be staying here." He shot a glance at Chuuya, whose scowl had deepened, and didn't bother suppressing a smirk.
"I think you have to take it up with the RA," Ango replied. "Or maybe housing."
"Excellent!" Dazai exclaimed. "Wonderful! I'm going to do that immediately." He headed for the door and pushed past Chuuya, who was still standing in front of the doorway. Oda and Ango followed him out. "Don't get too comfy!" Dazai called over his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll be relocated quite soon!"
"Like hell I'll be the one to leave," Chuuya hollered back.
Dazai let the door slam shut behind him, and only once Chuuya could no longer see his face did he let his displeasure show. "I hate that guy," he whined. "Why'd I get stuck with him?"
Oda and Ango exchanged a glance, and Oda said, "Maybe you should give him a—"
"Nope!" Dazai cut in. "Absolutely not. Trust me when I say that I'll have him moved out within the hour."
Ango sighed. "Don't do anything illegal."
"Or if you do, don't get caught," Oda added, and Ango gave him a stern look that he ignored.
"I won't," Dazai replied before setting off to the RA's room at the end of the hall.
The RA's name was Kunikida Doppo. According to Dazai's research, he was also 22, and a math major. He was several centimeters taller than Dazai, with rectangular glasses and a brassy blond mullet. He also had a permanent-looking furrow in his brow that only deepened as Dazai explained the situation.
"You want to change rooms," he said to Dazai, looking unimpressed.
"Actually, I want my roommate to change rooms," Dazai corrected. "I'm afraid the current scenario is simply not sustainable."
"That's too bad," Kunikida replied. "Unfortunately, it's too late to change rooms. The deadline was yesterday. It says so on the school website."
Dazai stared at him in disbelief. "It's move in day," he emphasized. "How is it too late?"
Kunikida scowled. "The deadline is on the school site," he repeated. "You can check if you don't believe me."
Dazai groaned inwardly. "That won't be necessary, Kunikida-kun~" he chirped, forcing a wide smile. "Thanks anyway!" He left before Kunikida could reply.
Chuuya was on his bed when Dazai returned to the room. He glanced up when Dazai entered, expression sour. "Any luck?" He grumbled.
"Nope!" Dazai replied. "Apparently we missed the deadline."
"What? How?" Chuuya demanded, jumping off the bed and glaring at Dazai. "It's literally the first possible day to move in!"
Dazai shrugged. "That's what I said. The deadline's on the website, apparently."
"Bullshit," muttered Chuuya before storming out of the room, likely in pursuit of Kunikida.
Five minutes later Chuuya returned, looking immensely vexed. "I can't believe this," he all but yelled, slamming the door behind him. "I'm fucking stuck with you!"
"Trust me, I'm not happy about being stuck in here with a yappy little chihuahua, either," Dazai replied disdainfully.
Chuuya froze. " What did you just call me?"
The look in his eyes was dangerous, so Dazai smiled brightly and repeated, "A yappy little chihuahua! Quite fitting, don't you think?"
Before Dazai could react, Chuuya had him by the throat. He pushed Dazai up against the closet doors, practically brimming with anger. "You wanna say that again?"
Dazai tilted his head, slightly bored by how easy it was to rile Chuuya up. "You want to hear it again?"
Chuuya's grip on his neck tightened, fingers slightly digging into his jugular. "I want you to shut the fuck up," he seethed. "Actually, I want you to leave, but apparently that's not possible so I guess this'll do."
Dazai tried for a condescending smile. "Oh, Chuuya. If anyone's leaving, it's you."
"How the fuck you figure that?" Chuuya snapped.
Dazai's smile widened. "Because," he said simply, "I got here first."
He saw the punch coming—of course he did—but he didn't dodge. Chuuya caught the side of his nose with an audible crunch. It hurt, but nothing seemed to be broken, so Dazai's smile didn't flinch. He could feel blood running into his mouth, staining his teeth red.
"You're deranged," Chuuya said as he studied Dazai with horror. "What's your fucking problem?"
Dazai laughed and spat blood in Chuuya's face. Chuuya released him at once and shoved him away. Dazai went down, still laughing, as Chuuya wiped the blood from his face and watched him warily. "You're sick in the head."
Dazai stopped laughing abruptly. "Tell me something I don't know," he replied dismissively. "Now are you gonna clean me up, or?"
Chuuya scoffed and stormed out of the room. Dazai smiled, satisfied that he'd finally gotten Chuuya to leave, until Chuuya returned a minute later and chucked a wet rag at Dazai. "That's all you're getting," he snapped. "And that's just so you won't rat me out for hurting you."
"I hate pain, you know," Dazai said conversationally, voice slightly nasal as he used the rag to stop the blood flowing from his nose and wipe down his face.
"I'm not sorry I hit you," Chuuya said haughtily.
"I didn't say you had to be."
"Yeah, well I'm not!"
There was a momentary stalemate as they glared at each other silently, blood still dripping steadily from Dazai's nostrils. Eventually Chuuya huffed and looked away, and Dazai smirked triumphantly. "I'm going to shower this blood off," he said pointedly. "Stay on your side of the room if you know what's good for you."
"What'll you do if I don't?" Chuuya retorted. "Spit blood at me again?"
Dazai smiled angelically. "I don't need to do that to make your life a living hell! Trust me."
"Fucking freak," Chuuya muttered as Dazai grabbed first his towel and clean underwear from one of the boxes, then toiletries and bandages from the other.
The communal shower was at the opposite end of the hall from Kunikida's room, just beyond the stairwell. It was empty as far as Dazai could tell, but even so Dazai waited until he was in the stall to start unwrapping his bandages. The skin beneath was sickly pale and smooth, not a blemish or scar in sight. Dazai had considered slicing his forearms open a few times, but in the end he always chickened out. It was true what he'd told Chuuya; he hated unnecessary pain.
There were easier ways to die.
Dazai discarded the bandages in a heap just outside the stall before starting the shower. He winced as the water hit his skin—he'd always been sensitive to harsh water pressure—and did his best to bear it as he scrubbed his hair. He considered skipping the conditioner, but he knew that Yosano would catch on if he did and reprimand him, which was the last thing he wanted. He had plans to get dinner with her and Ranpo, so there was no getting around it.
Once Dazai was done, he shut the shower off and dried his body before beginning the painstaking process of wrapping his body in bandages. Afterwards, he dressed himself in a long sleeve T-shirt and sweats, gathered his things and returned to the room, hoping that Chuuya would be out for one reason or another.
Of course he wouldn't be so lucky. Chuuya was perched cross-legged on his bed, scrolling on his phone. He had already made the bed and unpacked his things, even going as far as to put up photos on the wall over his desk. His friends looked like an eccentric bunch, to say the least.
Dazai hung his damp towel over the back of his desk chair and put away his things in silence. Without bothering to put sheets on the bed, Dazai moved aside the boxes Oda had left there and flopped down face-first. He felt the back of his neck prickle, like Chuuya was looking his way, but when he turned his head to glance at Chuuya he was still looking at his phone, hair falling partially over his face.
He looked a little bit like a girl from this angle, and Dazai couldn't help but wonder how Chuuya would react if he said that to him. Would he be angry? Maybe he'd hit Dazai again.
You'd be so pretty, if only you were a girl, Dazai imagined himself saying to Chuuya. Too bad you're not. He'd make his tone as condescending as possible, maybe even loom over Chuuya a little bit. Might as well take advantage of their height difference, after all.
Realizing that he'd been staring at Chuuya for some time now, Dazai pressed his face back into his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. Even so, the image of Chuuya's stupid face persisted, lingering behind his eyelids.
Your looks are wasted on you, Dazai imagined saying to him, and smiled into his pillow.
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After giving himself an hour or so to rest, Dazai forced himself to start unpacking his things. He started with his clothes, and once all of those were put away, he got out his school supplies and tucked them into the desk drawers. He even made the bed (well, sort of. Putting sheets on it made him tired, so he left the blanket and pillows in a heap at the foot of the bed. He would deal with it later).
Chuuya had left the room at some point, slamming the door with unnecessary force on his way out. Dazai would have to talk to him about that; he didn't care if Chuuya hated him, he would not tolerate loud noises on the regular. He'd have to find a way to pose it so that Chuuya didn't find out about his sensitivity to sound—surely he'd take advantage of that and use it to drive Dazai out.
Maybe if I tell Chuuya that stomping around and slamming doors like that isn't going to get him laid, he'll stop, thought Dazai. That might work, though it was hard to say whether or not that was a sensitive subject to Chuuya. Dazai wondered if Chuuya was a vir—
No, he told himself firmly. Don't think about that. That's weird.
Anyway, whether or not Chuuya actually had trouble getting laid, implying that he did would surely drive Chuuya to be a little more quiet. At the very least it would put a much needed dent in his ego.
Chuuya was still gone when Dazai headed out to meet Yosano and Ranpo just after six. The sky had dimmed as the sun sank towards the horizon, but the streets were far from empty. The sushi joint Yosano had suggested was only a ten minute walk from Ao Hall, which suited him fine, since it was still warm enough outside to make him sweat inside his layers.
Logically, Dazai knew he didn't need to cover his bandages. There were times when he let them show, and even if he didn't do it intentionally, it was near impossible to hide them entirely. Covering them was mostly an instinctive thing—the less weird looks Dazai got, the better. It was difficult enough to pass as normal as it was.
Dazai was the first to arrive, which made sense; Yosano was typically five minutes late to their meetings, while Ranpo tended to arrive after ten. Dazai went ahead and got them a booth, and sure enough, five minutes later, Yosano appeared.
She sat across from Dazai, groaning as she sank into the cushioned seat. "I've been on my feet for six hours without a break," she complained. She did look exhausted, and a bit disheveled, hair sticking out on one side. Dazai nearly mentioned it, but decided against it.
As much as he craved death, a death by Yosano's hands was not one that appealed to him.
A waitress came to check if they wanted anything to drink. Dazai ended up ordering sake, and Yosano ordered a Moscow Mule. Dazai thanked her after, wearing his most charming smile that always made Yosano look mildly disgusted with him (she said it was 'more smarm than charm', but Dazai refused to believe that was the case).
"So?" Yosano prompted, kicking Dazai's shin under the table once the waitress had left. "What's up with you, loser?"
Dazai thought of Chuuya and scowled. "My room is infested."
Yosano raised an eyebrow, amused. "With what?"
"Slugs."
Yosano rolled her eyes. "You gonna tell me what's really going on?"
Dazai sighed. "My roommate sucks," he whined, putting his head in his hands. "I hate him."
"Do you? Or does he not put up with your bullshit and you're upset about it?" Yosano asked pointedly. "Be honest."
Dazai groaned. "Can't it be both?"
Yosano shrugged. "Maybe."
The waitress brought their drinks over then, blushing when Dazai thanked her in his most charming manner. The moment she was gone, Dazai sagged. "Please, Yosano-sensei," he begged. "Impart upon me your doctorly wisdom."
"Not a shrink," Yosano reminded him, sipping her drink. "Why do you hate him?"
"I…may have taken the parking spot he wanted," Dazai started. Yosano leveled him with a look, and Dazai huffed. "How was I supposed to know motorcycles can't just park wherever they want?"
Yosano looked interested in that. "He has a motorcycle?"
"Not that it matters, but yes, he does," Dazai replied. "Why?"
"Does that make him your type?" Yosano wondered, expression innocent.
Dazai looked at her, horrified. "Gross! I mean, not the gay part—I'm not gay, but if I were, there'd be nothing wrong with that—but, gross! What part of 'I hate him' are you not getting from this?"
"Well, you did once say you were into motorcycle chicks," said a voice from behind Dazai. "You said something about liking 'all that leather' and 'wanting to get stepped on by those heavy combat boots'."
"I did not," Dazai claimed, but there was no use arguing against Ranpo's immaculate memory.
Ranpo came around to Yosano's side of the booth and slid in beside her, grinning. "You know I'm right. You're trying really hard not to look embarrassed, which means you're definitely recalling saying that as I speak."
Dazai stopped trying to school his expression and let his grimace show. "Why must we bring up a comment I made once? And what makes you think that dictates my type? You don't even know my type."
"Oh, your type? That's easy," said Yosano. "You like them short, right?"
"He also likes them interesting-looking," Ranpo contributed. "Variations in eye color and hair color fascinate him, as do strong features."
"I have never said such things!" Dazai replied indignantly.
"You never had to," Ranpo said. "You have a staring problem, so it's pretty obvious when you find someone attractive."
"Hey, Dazai," Yosano chimed in. "What does your roommate look like?"
Dazai scowled. "Ugly," he answered. "Boring. Tall." No way in hell was he going to mention that Chuuya was short and interesting-looking; there was no need to pour gasoline on that fire.
"There's no use lying," Ranpo pointed out. "We'll meet him eventually."
"Not if I can make him drop out by week one," Dazai countered.
Ranpo looked amused by that. "You really think you can manage that?"
Dazai smiled evilly. "You really think I can't?"
"We know you can," Yosano said. "Are you sure that's the best idea, though? Getting him to drop out seems a little bit…extreme. Why don't you just kill him instead?"
Dazai sighed. "If only I could. He's pretty strong, so I'm not sure I could beat him in a physical fight. I guess there's always poison," he mused, drawing a line through the condensation on the table. "Or maybe I could drive him to kill himself? That would certainly take care of the issue, and I wouldn't even have to hide the body!"
"Not everyone is so quick to kill themselves," Yosano said pointedly.
Dazai deflated. "How unfortunate. Suicide is such a beautiful thing—hey!" He yelped as Yosano sprayed him with the bottle of water she kept in her purse. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't spray me in restaurants!"
"No, you agreed to not talk about suicide at the dinner table," Yosano corrected. "I know you know that."
" Yosano-sensei," Dazai whined. "How else am I supposed to get rid of Chuuya?"
Ranpo looked thoughtful. "Are you sure you can't take him?"
Dazai avoided eye contact. "Uh. I mean…he kind of already beat me, so."
There was a beat of silence, and then both Yosano and Ranpo burst out laughing. "Of course he did!" Yosano said, practically wheezing. "You probably provoked him the moment Oda and Ango left you two alone!"
Ranpo snickered. "Did he give you that bruise?"
"That's none of your business," said Dazai with an affronted sniff. He'd been hoping they wouldn't notice the bruise—it wasn't that obvious yet—but of course, nothing got past Ranpo. "Anyway, it's not like I was trying to win the fight—" More laughter. Dazai waited it out, annoyed. "Are you done?" He asked finally.
"Probably not, but I'm too distracted by my hunger to laugh any longer," Yosano admitted. "Do you both know what you want?"
They took a moment to check the menu, and ordered when the waitress returned to their table. Dazai wasn't very hungry, so he stuck to just crab sashimi, while both Yosano and Ranpo ordered multiple dishes for themselves.
"I'd ask you if you're eating enough," Yosano said once the waitress had gone again, "but I'm not sure I want to hear the answer."
Dazai smiled appeasingly, putting his hands up. "Now, now, Yosano-san!" He teased. "People might think you actually care about me."
Yosano sprayed him in the face, scowling. "Idiot."
Dazai tsk ed. "You act like I'm a cat in need of training."
Ranpo smirked. "Are you not?"
Dazai rolled his eyes. "Can we get back to my predicament?" He requested. "There's a tiny, yappy dog in my room and I want him out."
"I thought he was a slug?" Yosano said sweetly.
Dazai shot her a dirty look. "Semantics."
Their waitress dropped off Ranpo's edamame, which he dug into immediately. "Why do you hate this guy so much, anyway?" He asked with his mouth full. "And are you sure it's not a you problem?"
"Dazai stole his parking space," Yosano supplied. "We didn't get any further than that, since we started talking about the—"
"Motorcycle," Ranpo interjected. "Well, that figures. What's the deal, then? How'd he get under your skin?"
"He hasn't," Dazai insisted. "He's just so annoying, like a little fly! Actually, I wish he were a mosquito. Then I could just swat him!"
"I'm still not seeing a problem," Ranpo said. "Having an annoying roommate at some point in your life is unavoidable."
"Not if you live alone!" Yosano sang.
"I've had annoying roommates before," Dazai despaired. "None of them were like this!"
"I'm crying for you," Ranpo said, munching his edamame. "Really, I am."
"Why don't you just get a girlfriend and move in with her?" Yosano suggested, examining her nails with a bored expression. "It can't be that hard."
"He can't," Ranpo spoke before Dazai could. "He has no game."
"Real," Yosano agreed.
"I resent that," Dazai informed them.
"Prove it, then," Ranpo said with a shrug. "Get our waitress's number. Shouldn't be that hard, right?"
Dazai repressed a grimace. He had no interest in the shy type, which their waitress appeared to be. "If I must," he sighed anyway.
When their waitress returned with their food, Dazai made his move. He cleared his throat as the waitress passed them their food, and she flushed when she noticed his attention. "Excuse me," he said, wearing his most charming smile. "Would you be interested in joining me…in a double suicide?"
The girl's hopeful expression turned to one of horror. "I…no, thank you," she said stiffly. "Enjoy your meal." She left abruptly and without making eye contact with any of them.
Ranpo whistled lowly as Yosano sprayed Dazai several times in quick succession. "You really fudged that one up, huh?"
Dazai sniffed. "She wasn't my type anyway."
Ranpo and Yosano exchanged a loaded glance that Dazai chose to ignore. "Yeah," Yosano replied. "We know."
"You knew that wouldn't work," Ranpo said accusingly.
Dazai shrugged and sipped his drink. "Maybe, but you never know for sure until you try, right?"
"Maybe you should live alone," Yosano mused. "Who knows, it could be good for you."
"He'd last a week, tops," Ranpo predicted. "There's no way this bastard could be alone with his thoughts for so long."
"I don't get lonely," Dazai argued. "The voices in my head keep me company!"
"I actually can't tell if you're kidding," Yosano drawled. "Actually, I'm not sure I want to know."
"You don't," said Ranpo at the same time that Dazai chirped, "Oh, I'm not kidding!"
Yosano groaned. "I am begging you to see a therapist."
The funny thing was, Dazai had thought that before. Only briefly, but still, he had. I could benefit from therapy. It could help me, change me, fix me. Even before Dazai became Dazai, before he moved to Yokohama and left behind all traces of Tsushima Shuji, he'd known there was something wrong with him. He'd never felt otherwise.
The problem was, if Dazai acknowledged that wrongness, there was a good chance it would overtake him entirely.
Some time after they'd finished their drinks, a different waitress came by to check up on them. "Sorry about the change," she apologized. "Mari wasn't feeling well, so she left early."
"You totally scared her off," Ranpo mumbled to Dazai.
"It's no trouble," Yosano assured her. "Could we please get the check?"
"Of course," the waitress replied. "I'll be right back with that."
Once she was out of earshot, Ranpo said, "I'm surprised you didn't ask her to commit double suicide with you, too."
"Maybe I'm learning," Dazai said lightly, drumming his fingers lightly against the table. His leg wouldn't seem to stop twitching either, a sure sign that he'd been sitting down for too long.
"Maybe you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of us," Ranpo said. "Again."
The laugh Dazai released was genuine. "You know as well as I do that I'm beyond caring about that."
After they paid, the three of them parted ways. Dazai wouldn't see them again until school started the following week—Yosano was far too busy with her training, and Ranpo with his internship—but the three of them had a class together, and Yosano was the TA for Dazai's Intro to Anatomy course, so he'd be seeing them plenty soon.
When Dazai arrived at the dorm, he steeled himself before unlocking the door. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with Chuuya; even though he'd only been with Ranpo and Yosano, Dazai's energy was entirely drained. Wearing a mask all the time could be exhausting, when Dazai stopped moving for long enough to think about it (which was why he usually didn't).
Chuuya was lying on his back in bed, backwards for some reason with his feet propped on his pillow, holding his phone over his face. The room was dark except for Chuuya's desk lamp, and Dazai could hear the faint sound of tinny music filtering through cheap earbuds. As far as Dazai could tell, Chuuya's music was loud enough that he hadn't even noticed Dazai's entrance.
It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.
Dazai crept over to the bed and positioned himself behind Chuuya before reaching out and snagging his earbuds, yanking them from his ears. "I'm hoooome!" He sang as Chuuya started, dropping his phone on his face. Dazai giggled as Chuuya sat up, phone falling into his lap. He lashed out at Dazai, but Dazai leapt backwards just in time to dodge the punch. "Too slow," he taunted.
Chuuya glared at him. There was a red mark on his nose made by his phone, Dazai noticed. That must have hurt. "I'm gonna fucking kill you, asshole," Chuuya snarled.
Dazai stuck out his tongue. "I'm flattered you'd do that for me, but unfortunately, I already have plans to commit double suicide with a beautiful lady, and you are not beautiful or a lady." Partial lie, but Dazai didn't think Chuuya would catch on.
Sure enough, Chuuya looked pissed. "Why don't you do me a favor, then, and go do that right now?" He snapped.
Dazai sighed forlornly. "Ah, I wish I could. Unfortunately, the last woman I asked politely declined the offer. I suppose death isn't as comforting for some as it is for me."
Chuuya stared at him incredulously. "Why the fuck would you ask someone that?!"
"How else will I find someone to die beside me?" Dazai countered.
"I don't know, maybe try dating someone first?" Chuuya said sarcastically. "Like a normal fucking person?"
"Eh. Too much work," Dazai said dismissively. "I'm not in it for love, anyway. I just don't want to die alone." That wasn't exactly true, but it wasn't untrue, either. Dying, in Dazai's experience, was a little like having a bad trip. He was sure having company would just make it more fun.
"You're such a jerk," Chuuya mumbled, turning back to his phone. "I hope you never find someone."
"Now that's rude!" Dazai exclaimed.
"Cry about it," Chuuya told him.
"Maybe I will," Dazai said, as if he were capable of crying anymore.
"Good."
"Good."
Dazai rolled his eyes and flopped onto his bed, digging his phone out of his pocket to distract himself. He responded to a text from Oda asking whether he'd managed to switch rooms and informed him of the situation. Honestly, the idea of murdering Chuuya was growing more appealing by the minute. He was sure Yosano would help him if it came down to it, and he could probably bribe Ranpo to help him, too.
Either way, something had to be done. Chuuya was too much of a wild card for Dazai to stand to be around. Maybe if he were smarter, there was a chance Dazai could connect with him. Sure, he was fun to rile up, but the entertainment factor only went so far. Dazai simply refused to live with such a brute.
I'll get him to leave, Dazai promised himself fiercely. No matter what it takes.
Bluff, mental image, inhuman, ah it's like a monster
With an calm and clear mind, harboring life,
The rest is a mindless, hollow human.
—Kaikai Kitan
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
April 2014
"You talk in your sleep," Chuuya informed Dazai the following morning. "It's more like mumbling, actually."
"Tell someone who cares," Dazai said, bored. He felt Chuuya's eyes on him, but Dazai ignored him steadfastly.
"You're obnoxiously loud," Chuuya huffed finally.
"Look who's talking," Dazai replied. Chuuya hopped off his bed, came over to Dazai's and socked him in the arm for that one. Dazai was too lazy to dodge. "Ouch! Such a violent little shorty."
" Don't call me shorty," Chuuya hissed, getting in Dazai's face.
"My bad. What a violent slug you are! There, better?" Dazai asked, blinking innocently.
Chuuya looked about ready to explode, but he kept himself in check. Dazai was mildly impressed with the show of restraint. "You're not going to provoke me again."
"Wrong!" Sang Dazai. "I'll provoke you as much as I want, and you'll dance like the little marionette that you are!"
Chuuya glared at him defiantly. "So you like to manipulate people, huh?"
"I like to be the one pulling the strings, yes," Dazai agreed. "In this case, as a means to get you to drop out." There was no harm in stating his intent; it wouldn't give Chuuya any sort of advantage in their war, after all.
Chuuya, however, was unfazed. "Not if I get you to drop out first," he retaliated, sneering as he returned to his bed.
He left their room without a word less than an hour later. Dazai let out a relieved sigh at the silence that followed his absence. It was so blissfully quiet, Dazai couldn't help but wonder if it was too late to rent an apartment on his own.
Oh, yeah. He couldn't afford it.
He stayed in bed for most of the morning. Oda texted him around noon asking if he wanted to grab a coffee, and only then did Dazai force himself out of bed.
The cafe he met Oda at was a short ways away from Bar Lupin. Dazai had met him there before; the barista, Lucy, made the best cappuccinos, according to Oda. She was pretty, too, with long, red plaits and big, green eyes. Technically Dazai's type, according to Ranpo and Yosano at least, except that Dazai didn't feel any sort of attraction to her, so obviously they were both wrong.
Not to mention that she'd turned down his double suicide proposal quite rudely (and his favorite pants still bore the coffee stain to prove it).
Oda was seated at a table by the window when Dazai arrived. Dazai ordered a drip coffee and added a generous amount of sugar—no milk, though, because milk made his tummy hurt—before joining him.
"O-da-sa-kuuu~" he sang as he approached. "How are you today?"
Odasaku had been staring out the window, but he moved his eyes to Dazai now. "I'm good," he replied. "How are you?"
"Brilliant!" Dazai chirped as he slid into the seat across from Oda. His leg bounced under the table as he took a sip of his coffee. He really did feel energized today. This happened sometimes, though it hadn't in a while. "I feel like I could run a marathon!"
"Please don't," Oda said.
Dazai frowned. "You have no faith in me," he complained.
Oda stared at him. "Dazai. When's the last time you went for a run?"
Dazai took another sip. "Uhh, never?"
"And you think you can run 42 kilometers," Oda stated.
"Yeah? Why not?" Dazai asked. "Anyone can do anything if they put their mind to it! Especially me."
"That is objectively untrue."
Dazai stuck his tongue out at Oda. "Buzzkill."
Oda just shrugged in response.
"How's the thesis proposal coming?" Dazai asked, tracing a finger around the edge of his mug.
"Slowly," Oda replied. "It doesn't have to be done until the end of May, but I still have a lot of work to do."
Dazai hummed. "Still think you're gonna write a novel?"
"That's the goal, yes," said Oda. "I think it should be manageable. I have the rough outline of the plot done already, and the first few chapters fully planned out."
"That's great!" Dazai exclaimed. "Can I see it?"
"I'll let you read the first draft," Oda answered. "The plan is for my eyes only."
Dazai narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure you're not going to show it to Ango?"
"Ango is not interested in seeing it," Oda assured him. "And I would not show him if he were."
Dazai smiled, satisfied. "Good. I hate it when you play favorites."
"I don't have favorites," Oda replied. "You know this."
Dazai sighed, drumming his fingers against the mug. "If you say so." He tapped out the beat that played in his head. He couldn't remember the name of the song, which was unfortunate.
"How's your—" Oda gestured at Dazai. "Mood?"
Dazai tilted his head, playing oblivious. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."
Oda looked close to rolling his eyes. "Dazai, two weeks ago you could barely function. You didn't eat for days—"
"We don't speak of those times," Dazai said lightly. "Only the good times!"
Oda sighed. "They're not always good, though."
"No," Dazai agreed, "they're not."
"If you need to talk to someone, I can help you find a therapist," Oda offered.
Dazai forced a smile. "I don't really feel like exposing my deepest inner thoughts to a complete stranger. Thanks, though!"
Oda sighed again. "If you say so."
They finished their coffees in silence. After Dazai brought their mugs back, Oda asked, "Have you figured out where all of your classes are?"
"Nah," said Dazai dismissively. "I was just gonna do that on the day of."
"That's a horrible idea," Oda told him bluntly. "I can show you where they are."
"If you insist," Dazai relented.
They walked to campus together as Dazai checked his schedule. He didn't have it on him, but he'd taken a picture of it just in case. "My first class is Intro to Psych," Dazai informed him. He made a face. "It's a 9 AM. Odasakuuu, why am I doing this?"
"To get a degree," Oda responded instantly.
"I was referring to the fact that I'm taking it as an elective , not the going-to-college thing," Dazai said with a snort. "That's a fair point though."
Oda led him to the lecture hall where the class was held. It was pretty easy to find, and Dazai could have done it on his own, but it was certainly more fun to do it with Oda.
"Next class is Anatomy 101," Dazai announced.
"Oh," Oda said, surprised. "With Mori Ougai?"
"That's the one," Dazai confirmed. "Yosano's the T.A. this year. She thinks Mori's a weirdo, I guess."
"He's an odd man," Oda agreed. "Very odd. Harmless, though, at least in this universe."
Dazai laughed. "You say the strangest things, Odasaku."
Oda shrugged. "Maybe."
They went to the Anatomy room, and the literature department after that. Dazai would likely spend the most time there, since it was his major and all. Next was History of War—Dazai was taking it as his required history course along with Ranpo and Yosano, though they'd all heard the professor was a bit eccentric—and then finally philosophy, which was his second elective. Oda and Ango were in it as well; the three of them had planned to take a class together, and philosophy had fit best into their schedules. According to Oda, there were a lot of classes that were taken by both graduate and undergraduate students, which was pretty lucky, seeing as all of Dazai's friends were grad students, apparently.
He'd known Oda and Ango since his first year of high school. He'd been squatting in an empty apartment complex when he'd come to the conclusion that he desperately needed a job. Bar Lupin was both close to his school and willing to hire minors—for dishwashing and such—so it seemed like the ideal gig. Oda was 20 and Ango 19 at the time, so Ango had worked in the back with Dazai, while Oda had manned the bar alongside their manager and a few other workers. Dazai had taken to Oda and Ango instantly, though Ango had taken a while to warm up to him.
Yosano and Ranpo he'd met through Ango when he started college. Yosano had done her undergrad at Yokohama City College as well, and dated Ango briefly during their third year. She'd known Ranpo for a while already at that point, and introduced them all at some point that year. The five of them had been close since, even after Yosano and Ango broke it off (mutually, according to both of them).
Since they'd effectively located all of Dazai's classes, Oda dropped a reluctant Dazai off at the dorm. "I don't wanna go back," he complained. "I don't feel like dealing with a flea-ridden dog right now."
Oda raised an eyebrow. "You don't call him that to his face, do you?"
"Nooo," Dazai denied. Oda gave him a look, and he amended, "I call him a yappy little chihuahua."
Oda sighed. "I'm not going to tell you to be nice to him, because I know you're not going to listen, but…don't provoke him into killing you."
Dazai grinned. "Don't worry, Odasaku! I want to die beside a beautiful woman, remember?"
"Right," Oda said wearily. "On that note, I'll be off. Don't forget to eat lunch."
"I won't!" Dazai lied cheerfully.
When he got to his room—he refused to think of it as his and Chuuya's—he found the door unlocked. Chuuya must have been out, because the room was empty.
Then Dazai's eye caught on the very obvious line drawn across the entire room in tape. It stretched from the door all the way to the window, and cut both the fridge and microwave in half. He must have had to use separate pieces for those, so that they could still open. "Seriously?" Dazai muttered. "How petty can one person be?" Only Dazai was allowed to be petty; Chuuya's behavior was simply unacceptable.
Dazai considered tearing the tape up and throwing it away before Chuuya got back, but then he thought of something better. If I move the tape a few centimeters to the left each day, Chuuya's space will be smaller than mine! Dazai clapped his hands in glee and got to work on the tape that divided the space.
Luckily, he finished about half an hour before Chuuya returned. He was dressed like usual, except today he wore an ugly fedora that Dazai knew he wouldn't be able to resist making fun of.
Chuuya went straight to his bed, definitely not noticing Dazai's handiwork. "A line, huh?" Dazai said conversationally. When Chuuya ignored him, he said, "Ooh, are you giving me the silent treatment?" Nothing. "You totally are! Aw, Chuuya, I didn't think you had a nice bone in your body!" Still nothing. Dazai smirked and added, "It certainly beats your usual barking—"
"Do you ever shut up?" Chuuya snarled, finally turning to look at Dazai.
"There he is!" Dazai said smugly. "You really are so easy to break, Chuuu-yaa~"
"I'm not fucking broken," Chuuya snapped. "If anyone is, it's you."
Dazai gave Chuuya his blankest stare and widest smile. "Oh? And how am I broken, shorty?"
Chuuya took a deep breath, exhaling roughly. "I'm not doing this with you."
Dazai was only a little disappointed that Chuuya was refusing to engage. It really wouldn't be hard to break him, once Dazai really put his mind to it.
"You left the room unlocked, by the way," he said into the silence.
"I was literally gone for less than an hour," Chuuya retorted irritably. "What, am I expected to keep it locked at all times?"
"Yes," Dazai said seriously. "What if someone breaks into our room?" He gasped. "They could steal your dumb fedora!"
Chuuya's nostrils flared. "It's a pork pie," he hissed, hands clenching into fists like he wished he could be strangling Dazai right now.
"Semantics," Dazai said dismissively. "It's just a hat, shorty."
" Don't call me—"
"Fine, I'll call you 'hat rack' then!" Dazai exclaimed. "How's that?"
Chuuya glowered at him. "I wanna kick your ass so bad right now."
"Then why don't you?" Dazai goaded.
"Uh, maybe because it's the easiest way to get me kicked out?" Chuuya said, rolling his eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I'm still gonna hit you if you're being a dick—"
"Chuuya's so violent—!"
"But unfortunately," Chuuya continued with a glare, "I probably can't get away with beating your stupid face to a pulp." The for now went unsaid, but Dazai heard it anyway. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to listen to eight hours of whale songs at full volume because I really can't stand to hear another word out of your shitty mouth." With that, Chuuya stomped over to his desk, grabbed his earbuds and very pointedly shoved them in his ears, all while continuing to glare at Dazai.
"I get the point, jeez," Dazai muttered, rolling his eyes. "And eight hours of whale songs? Seriously?"
Chuuya finally stopped looking at Dazai and grabbed a book from his desk before retreating to his bed. Dazai flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, wondering if it was possible to actually die of boredom. Dying would be nice right now, he thought, drumming his fingers restlessly against the sheets. He wondered what the odds were of being struck by an asteroid. It wouldn't even have to be a big one; golf-ball sized would do, as long as it aimed straight for his head or his heart.
Why, he thought frustratedly, why can't I just be taken out by a space rock? Why must I be stuck here with this horrible little man instead?
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
On Sunday, Chuuya was gone when Dazai woke up. Dazai took the opportunity to move the tape over another centimeter or so, humming as he worked. He tried to move quickly in case Chuuya came back, but he shouldn't have worried. Chuuya didn't return until just after eleven. He once again wore his stupid little pork pie hat, and had a coffee in hand. He refused to look at Dazai, which would have been annoying had Dazai not been able to see that Chuuya was putting every ounce of effort into ignoring him. It was kind of flattering, actually.
He only stuck around for a few minutes before leaving again, still without saying a word to Dazai. Dazai would be lying if he said he wasn't a little impressed.
After he was sure Chuuya wasn't coming back anytime soon, Dazai changed his bandages before flopping back in bed. He was running on just a few hours of sleep, but he felt more energized than ever. Classes started tomorrow, and though part of Dazai dreaded the work that lay ahead of him, another part of him was electrified. He'd been present in Ango and Oda's lives throughout most of their time in the undergrad program, and he was excited to see what it was like firsthand.
He wondered what Yosano and Ranpo were up to today. He'd seen them a few days ago, but being alone right now was dreadfully dull. He texted Ranpo first, who replied almost instantly with ' at the library with poe' . Dazai had only met Poe a handful of times, but he seemed like a nice guy, if a bit on the introverted side.
He texted Yosano next. She took longer to reply, but eventually got back to him. ' Lunch break in 15. I'll be in the hospital cafe, take it or leave it. '
Dazai made a face. The school hospital's cafe food was notoriously awful; Dazai had tried it on multiple occasions, and each sampling had left him more disgusted than the last. If it were anyone but Yosano, Dazai wouldn't bother, but he was approaching lethal levels of boredom.
He sent back a confirmation before pulling on a pair of sweats and grabbing a light jacket. He 'forgot' his wallet in his desk drawer—it seemed only fair that Yosano pay for lunch, seeing as it would no doubt taste revolting and leave Dazai feeling mildly nauseous.
He crossed campus and made it to the hospital right around 11:30. Yosano was waiting at a table in the back of the near-empty cafe, already wolfing down a limp, sorry-looking sandwich.
"It's a bit early for lunch, isn't it?" Dazai said in lieu of a greeting.
Yosano swallowed and said, "I've been working since 6. It certainly feels like lunch to me."
"Fair," Dazai acknowledged. "I'm gonna grab something to eat." He patted his pocket and then frowned. "Uh oh."
Yosano gave him a knowing look. "You 'forgot' your wallet again, didn't you," she said flatly, using her fingers to make quotations in the air.
"Maybe?" Dazai replied, feigning sheepishness. They both knew he wasn't sorry, not really.
"Manipulative piece of shit," Yosano muttered, and passed over her card.
"Thank you, Yosano-sensei," Dazai reverently, holding the card as if it was his salvation and not just a means to pay for some truly awful food. "Be right back!"
Yosano rolled her eyes again and shoved some more sandwich in her mouth while Dazai went up to the front counter. Nothing on the menu really appealed, so Dazai ended up purchasing a not-horrible-looking granola bar and a mandarin. When he returned to the table, Yosano eyed his choices judgmentally.
"The food here sucks," Dazai defended.
Yosano snorted. "Say that a little louder, why don't you?"
"Okay," said Dazai easily. "THE FOOD HERE SU—" Yosanno clapped a hand over his mouth, effectively cutting him off, but he was loud enough to draw glares from the other patrons nonetheless.
"Shut it," Yosano hissed. "I work here, remember?"
Dazai licked her hand, and she yanked it back, disgusted. He grinned and said, "My sincere apologies, Yosano-sensei."
"Sincere, my ass," Yosano remarked. "Anyway, what's with you today? You're, like, practically vibrating."
Dazai glanced down at his leg, which had been jumping the entire time he'd been seated, and the fingers of his left hand, which were tapping restlessly against his leg. "Oh, that. It happens," he said dismissively.
Yosano eyed him skeptically. "It's true that you stim a lot," she observed. "I've never seen it this extreme, though."
Dazai frowned. "Stim?"
Yosano gestured at Dazai. "You know. The tapping, the leg-jiggling…it releases energy, am I right?"
Dazai shrugged. "I suppose I never thought about it."
Yosano snorted. "Of course you didn't. For a guy as smart as you are, you don't seem like you spend a whole lot of time thinking."
"I'm too self-aware as is," Dazai replied.
"Amen to that," Yosano agreed before taking another enormous bite of her sandwich. Dazai unwrapped his granola bar and took a tentative bite. The texture didn't appeal to him, even a little bit, and it was too sweet for his liking. Many people thought Dazai preferred everything to be sweet, but the truth was, he only liked sweet things when they were meant to be sweet. Dessert was fine. Too-sweet, cloying fruit and overly sugary granola bars—those were another story.
"At least eat the mandarin," Yosano said, sounding exasperated as she watched his face screw up in disgust.
"This granola bar is awful," Dazai declared. "Want it?"
Yosano shrugged. "I guess I could save it for later."
Dazai passed it over before getting to work peeling the mandarin. He managed to peel it all in one long spiral, which he then proceeded to toss at Yosano's face.
"Brat," she said disdainfully.
"Bitch."
"Asshole."
"Can't argue with you there," Dazai said brightly as he split the mandarin into sections.
"Speaking of assholes," Yosano segued, "how's the roommate?"
Dazai's mood instantly soured. "Horrible. I hate him."
"So you've said," Yosano replied, clearly amused. "Any luck getting him out of there?"
Dazai gave her a look. "I'm not going to kill him, Yosano."
"Darn," Yosano muttered. "What about getting him to drop out?"
"Working on it," Dazai answered slowly. "I think I need some inspiration, though."
Yosano polished off her sandwich before saying, "What have you done so far?"
Dazai perked up. "Well," he started, "Chuuya made a line across the room with tape, right? So I've been moving the line a centimeter closer to his side once or twice a day!"
Yosano stared at him. "That's…ridiculously petty," she answered finally.
"As if putting a line down in the first place wasn't?" Dazai defended. "Anyway, you can't talk to me about petty. I haven't forgotten the time you told me I wasn't a 'true Neptune enthusiast' because I couldn't name all 14 of its moons."
"Yeah, and?" Yosano drawled. "You're not."
"It's my favorite planet!" Dazai said indignantly. "Anyway, why would I memorize the names of the moons when I can google them at any time?"
"Not a true fan," Yosano said, shaking her head. "So sad."
Dazai huffed. "Whatever. You still can't talk."
Yosano shrugged. "So we're both petty. Is that a problem?"
"No," Dazai grumbled, "but Chuuya being petty is."
"Hypocrite."
Dazai just stuck his tongue out at her in response and changed the subject. "How's work?"
Yosano sighed. "Same as usual. Man, my feet are sore. I should really look into getting some insoles," she mused.
"Quit your job," Dazai suggested innocently.
"Yosano gave him a dirty look. "Don't tempt me." At Dazai's shrug she added, "How's Bar Lupin?"
"Fine," Dazai replied, picking at the mandarin he'd all but forgotten about. He managed to eat a few pieces before the taste got old, and he passed the rest to Yosano. "It's been slow lately, but I'm sure that's about to change."
"You work later?" Yosano asked.
"Yeah," Dazai answered. He hadn't been to the bar in a while; Oda had covered his Friday night shift, knowing Dazai would be burned out from the move. "My shift starts at four, though, so I've got time."
Yosano checked her phone and cursed. "Unfortunately, I don't. Gotta get back. Might be able to come by during your Tuesday shift, if I get off work on time for once."
"Text me," Dazai replied as he got to his feet.
Yosano ruffled his hair aggressively as she passed him and smirked. "Later, loser."
"Don't mess up any surgeries!" Dazai called after her. Yosano flipped him off over her shoulder, making Dazai snicker.
He headed back to the dorm, humming under his breath as he walked. The sky was lovely today, a deep, bright shade of cornflower blue. Maybe the weather was influencing Dazai's mood. Yeah, that must have been it.
He was almost back to the dorm when his stomach growled aggressively, and Dazai came to the realization that he hadn't eaten anything other than part of a mediocre granola bar and half a mandarin since he got dinner with Ranpo and Yosano. That was Friday.
Oops.
He hadn't bothered getting a meal card for the school cafeteria this year, since their food was nearly as bad as the hospital's and he'd promised himself never to make that mistake again.. Cooking wasn't really an option either, apart from microwavable frozen meals and instant ramen. Dazai currently had neither of those things, so he swung by the konbini across the street from the dorm to grab something to eat.
He'd been there with Oda and Ango a few times, so the cashier was vaguely familiar to Dazai. He was relatively new, but his hair was quite distinctive—silvery white in color, and cut so choppy it looked like a job done by children. He always seemed a bit skittish, Dazai had noticed.
Dazai grabbed a crab salad and a couple of crab rice balls for later before heading to the front. He made a mental note to go grocery shopping as soon as possible; he had no canned crab in stock (or anything else, for that matter).
Dazai glanced at the cashier's name tag as he approached the counter. Nakajima Atsushi. "Are you a student?" He asked Atsushi, mildly curious.
Atsushi looked surprised. "Yeah," he replied hesitantly. "At Yokohama City College."
Dazai smiled gleefully. "What a coincidence! I happen to go there myself," he chirped. "What year are you?"
"I'm a first year," Atsushi said timidly as he scanned the items. He reminded Dazai of a stray cat, unused to human interaction and chronically nervous. "What about you?"
"I'm a third year," Dazai replied. "Do you have a major yet?"
"Not yet," Atsushi replied, looking slightly more relaxed. "Your total's 700 yen, by the way."
Dazai nodded and reached for his wallet before remembering that he'd left it at the dorm.
Double oops.
"Atsushi-kun," Dazai said, trying out his most charming smile. "Is there any chance I could pay you later? I happened to leave my wallet at—" homesounded wrong. "In my room," he corrected.
Atsushi stared at him, looking bewildered. "How did you know my name?" Dazai pointed at his name tag, and Atsushi flushed. "Oh. I forgot about that," he admitted. "I haven't worked here very long."
I can tell, Dazai only just stopped himself from saying. Instead he put on his best disappointed face and said, "I see. Well, sorry for the inconvenience, Atsushi-kun. I'll just return these—"
"Wait!" Atsushi said quickly. "I can pay for you, just this once."
Dazai brightened instantly. "Thank you, Atsushi-kun!" He gushed. "I promise I'll pay you back soon!" He'd probably forget, but since he'd most likely have his wallet on him next time he came here, it shouldn't be a problem.
Atsushi smiled and bagged Dazai's measly lunch. "Don't worry about it," he said, and then paused. "I forgot to ask your name."
"Dazai Osamu," Dazai replied. "You can just call me Dazai."
"Okay," Atsushi replied. "Don't worry about it then, Dazai-san. If you want to pay me back, you can buy me a meal sometime maybe?"
He really is like a stray, Dazai realized with some pity. Turning him down would be tricky, and it might hurt him, but it had to be done. "I'm afraid I'm not interested in men," he told Atsushi apologetically.
Atsushi turned bright red, and for a moment Dazai was sure he would cry. He didn't, though. Instead he stuttered, "I—that's not what I meant! I just…" Atsushi trailed off, not meeting Dazai's eyes. "I don't have a lot of friends here," he confessed quietly.
Oh.
Dazai tilted his head, still slightly confused. "You want to be friends with me?"
Atsushi grimaced. "It's okay, you can forget I said anything—"
"Give me your number," Dazai cut in. "Otherwise I'll have to hunt you down on social media, and that would be a nuisance." He didn't use social media often, except to stalk people he was wary of on occasion, and Atsushi seemed harmless enough.
Atsushi's eyes widened. "Oh! Sure," he said quickly. He recited his number, and Dazai plugged it into his contacts before reading it back to make sure it was correct. He already knew that it was—strings of numbers were easy for Dazai to memorize, most of the time—but it seemed like something a normal person would do.
"Don't forget your food," Atsushi said once Dazai had put his phone away. There's no way Dazai would have forgotten it—he was suddenly ravenous, and felt as if a black hole was consuming him from within—but he had 'forgotten' his wallet, and so Atsushi likely assumed he was the absentminded type. Dazai didn't mind if people underestimated him, or thought of him as ditzy. That only gave him an advantage when he needed to manipulate them.
Dazai thanked Atsushi again and offered him another wide smile that he hoped conveyed warmth rather than whatever the hell Dazai was feeling right now.
Itchy. Like bees under his skin, hot like blood.
"Thanks again," he said, managing to sound grateful (at least to his own ears). Atsushi waved goodbye and Dazai headed back to the dorm. He clutched the bag so tight his fingernails dug into his palm. Maybe the bright sun overhead was driving him insane. Bright lights never were his cup of tea.
The door was locked for once, meaning Chuuya would likely be gone for a while. Dazai had forgotten to bring along his keys, so he pulled out his bobby pins and made quick work of the lock. The room was silent, almost torturously so. Dazai's brain buzzed with a million thoughts, and three different songs played in his head, their beats instinctively aligned. Dazai would be great at mashups if only he knew how to edit music. It was a shame he'd never care enough to learn.
Dazai kicked off his shoes—one of them landing in the far corner of the room, clearly on Chuuya's side, but he could deal with that later—and climbed onto his bed before wolfing down the salad. The rice balls he'd save for later; he was sure he'd appreciate it after his shift.
After storing the rice balls on his side of the fridge (he considered putting them on Chuuya's side, but was honestly concerned they'd get eaten by the brute) Dazai spent a few minutes meticulously placing the tape closer to Chuuya's side of the room. Once he was done, he flopped back onto his bed, kicking his legs up in the air and cycling them idly.
He wasn't sure how long he stayed there like that, mind catching and releasing thoughts on a whim, but some time later he heard the lock click and the creakof the door as it swung open. Chuuya stopped in the doorway and stared at Dazai. "What," he stated, "are you doing."
"Calisthenics," he replied, continuing his lazy movements.
Chuuya scoffed. "If that's your idea of a workout, no wonder you're so weak."
Dazai sniffed distastefully, legs dropping to the bed. "Better weak than slow."
"I run a four minute mile, I'll have you know," Chuuya huffed.
Dazai waved a hand in the air. "I meant slow in the head," he drawled. "But clearly you're too stunted to understand even that."
Chuuya stormed over to Dazai and whacked him in the arm hard enough to bruise before retreating to his own bed. "I hate you."
"So eloquent."
"I hate you a lot."
Dazai rolled his eyes and didn't reply. He had at least three hours to kill before his shift started, and he would very much not like to spend them conversing with Chuuya. Sitting up abruptly, he pulled out his headphones—his ears were far too dainty to hold earbuds for long (Yosano liked to say it was just his ear canals that were small, but Dazai knew the truth).
He put on Climbing Up The Walls by Radiohead and cranked up the volume to drown out his thoughts. It was probably loud enough for Chuuya to hear in the otherwise quiet room; Dazai hoped he could hear it, and hoped he found it annoying. This alone likely wasn't enough to break Chuuya, but maybe it would chip away at his patience, and start tearing him down piece by piece. Anything helps, right?
Dazai tried reading, but his eyes kept sliding off the page like butter on a hot pan. Eventually he gave up and chucked the book across his bed, likely damaging the pages. He considered leaving it there, but ended up bringing it back to his desk so the pages wouldn't be damaged. He didn't used to care about that sort of thing, but…
Damn that Odasaku.
Dazai returned to his bed and threw himself down, kicking his legs around in a frantic attempt to get comfortable. His entire body felt like a live wire, restless and twitchy and—
Dazai yelped as something wrapped around his ankle and yanked him straight off the bed. He wound up on the floor, staring up at a pissed-off Chuuya. "Can you settle the fuck down?" He snapped at Dazai, audible even over his music. "I can't focus on shit with you flopping around like a damn fish out of water!"
Dazai pulled his headphones off and smiled cheekily at Chuuya. "Aw, am I distracting you?" He simpered.
" Yes," Chuuya all but yelled. "Do you ever stop moving?"
Dazai felt his smile widen. He probably looked deranged. "Do you ever stop yapping?" He replied innocently.
Chuuya actually growled. He's certainly not beating the dog allegations , Dazai thought smugly. "Trust me," Chuuya spat, "the last thing I want is to be talking to your scrawny ass!"
Dazai frowned at that. "I'm not scrawny, I'm slender," he insisted.
"You're a fucking twig," Chuuya seethed. "How you haven't snapped in half yet is beyond me."
Dazai wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Ooh, would Chuuya like to break me? Bend me over and—"
"OH MY GOD, SHUT UP," Chuuya roared.
Dazai snickered. This really was too easy. "Make me," he couldn't resist saying.
Chuuya scowled and kicked him in the ribs, not hard enough to break anything but hard enough to hurt.The funny thing was, Dazai didn't mind the pain like he usually would. Chuuya hurting him meant Dazai was provoking him successfully, so he'd count it as a win.
Chuuya took a deep breath, as if forcing himself to calm down. "I really fucking hate you," he gritted out.
"Back atcha, shorty!" Dazai said cheerfully.
Chuuya kicked him again. "Die," he said viciously.
"That's the plan," Dazai replied as Chuuya returned to his bed, glaring at Dazai as he shoved his earbuds aggressively into his ears. Dazai smirked and pushed himself to his feet. Climbing onto his bed was uncomfortable, and Dazai could already feel the bruises forming along his side, but it was worth it.
Chuuya ignored him for the next hour or so. At some point he left the room, slamming the door in an unnecessarily aggressive manner behind him. Dazai rolled his eyes at Chuuya's dramatics. How tiresome.
Evidently, it would take more than a few well-placed metaphorical jabs to get Chuuya to a breaking point. That was fine. Dazai was just getting started.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
Bar Lupin's hours were 4 PM to 4 AM every day, except for Sunday, when they closed at midnight. It seemed a bit excessive, but they really did get a lot of business between 4 and 10 PM most days thanks to the sheer amount of university students in the area getting drinks after work, so Dazai supposed it made sense. After 10 was typically slower on weeknights, but on Fridays and Saturdays Natsume always made sure that more than one employee was there to work the bar. They were understaffed and overworked as it was, but the bar was practically Natsume's second home, and he didn't trust just anyone to handle it.
Since he worked the opening shift, Dazai left for work around 3:30. It was only a 10 minute walk, but his shift technically started at 3:45, since he had to open. Opening shifts were typically easy, because even on their busiest days, it took a good few hours for the patrons to get truly rowdy.
Dazai blasted ' a over die' in his headphones at full volume and stared up at the sky as he walked, drumming his fingers against his leg. It had mostly clouded over at this point, and would likely rain during Dazai's shift. He hadn't brought an umbrella, but Ango probably had, and they got off at the same time. It wouldn't be too difficult to convince him to walk Dazai back to the dorm; Ango liked to pretend he didn't care about Dazai's well-being, but Dazai knew the truth.
The song ended, then began again as Dazai skipped back to the start. He didn't bother putting it on repeat, since he was almost to his destination, and Dazai hated arriving somewhere in the middle of a song.
A few minutes later, Dazai used his bobby pins to open the backdoor of Bar Lupin. He'd lost his key ages ago, and couldn't be bothered to find it. He supposed he could ask for a new one, but that was bothersome, and anyway he'd rather not face Natsume's disappointed face. He'd only seen it a few times over the years, and damn did it sting. Maybe it was because Dazai respected Natsume, more than he respected most adults anyway.
Ango was already in the backroom, changing into his work uniform. He glanced up when Dazai entered and said, "Oda told me to ask you if you ate today."
Dazai wrinkled his nose. "Why couldn't he just text me that?"
"Because he knows that if you didn't eat, you'd lie about it, and it's harder to tell over text," Ango replied.
"As if you can tell either way," Dazai muttered as he made his way to his locker. "Yes, I ate. I had a whole crab salad, for your information." Ango eyed him as if he wasn't sure Dazai was being honest. Dazai rolled his eyes and added, "You can check my molars if you want. I'm sure there's still microscopic pieces of crab wedged between my teeth. Ooh! Maybe you could floss while you're at it? I haven't done that in a while!"
Ango looked disgusted. "No thanks. They have these things called dentists, you know."
"I don't like doctors of any sort!" Dazai replied brightly. "Yosano being the exception, of course."
Ango sighed. "Of course."
Business was mostly slow—it was 4 PM on a Sunday—so Dazai spent most of the shift bothering Ango. He wasn't as easy to wind up as Chuuya was, and his reactions weren't nearly as delectable, but Dazai would take what he could get.
At some point, Sensei appeared. Sensei was a calico cat that often hung around the bar. Dazai, Oda and Ango had a running joke that it was actually Natsume, since none of them had ever seen the two of them in the same room.
Sensei hopped onto the counter, surprising a man who was slouched at the bar and almost making him spill his drink. The cat technically wasn't allowed on the bar, but seeing as there was a slim chance he was actually their boss, neither Ango or Dazai were willing to move him. The guy didn't seem to mind, anyway; he started petting Sensei gently after a minute, and soon seemed as enamored with him as most of their regulars had become.
It started raining sometime around seven. There were no windows in the bar, since it was in the basement of the building, but Dazai could tell because the few patrons that wandered in around then had water dripping from their clothes and hair. Dazai suspected most of them had only entered the bar to escape the rain, so it must have been worse than he'd thought.
Dazai turned to Ango and opened his mouth, but Ango cut him off. "I'm not walking you to the dorm," he said firmly. "I'm going straight home and straight to bed."
"But Ango," Dazai whined. "I'll get soaked!"
"You should have brought an umbrella," Ango chastised.
"I forgot!"
"I'm not walking you home, Dazai."
"We'll see about that," Dazai muttered.
Ango frowned. "You're not going to convince me—"
"Ango," Dazai said seriously, "if I catch a cold, Oda will be upset."
"Still not convincing me," Ango insisted.
"Okay, then," Dazai tried again, "if I catch a cold, Oda will make me soup, and you know he burns everything except for—"
"Except for curry," Ango said, resigned. "Ugh. Fine, I'll walk you home. I'm not doing this again, though."
Dazai smiled and batted his eyelashes at Ango. "Sure you won't."
An hour later, Natsume appeared to take over from Dazai and Ango. Dazai shot a glance at the bar—he could have sworn Sensei was right there, but now he was nowhere in sight. Interesting.
"Taneda will be here soon," Natsume informed them, "so you're both free to go."
"See you later," Ango said politely, and Dazai waved cheerfully. They grabbed their things from the back and stepped out into the rain, crowding together under Ango's umbrella.
"You need a bigger umbrella," Dazai informed him.
"And you need to learn to use your weather app," Ango snipped back.
Dazai's left shoulder had an enormous damp patch by the time they arrived at the dorm, but it was still better than being fully soaked.
"Thanks for walking with me!" Dazai chirped.
"As if I had a choice," Ango muttered, rolling his eyes. "Don't forget to eat something before your class tomorrow. Oda told me you have a 9 AM."
"I won't," Dazai replied.
Ango nodded, looking as if he didn't entirely believe him, which was fair. Dazai was most likely lying, anyway.
Ango left, and Dazai watched him go, not entirely minding the way the rain felt against his skin. He stood outside until his face went numb, staring up at the dripping sky. The sound of the rain almostdrowned out the noise in his head, and water slid down his cheeks like a mocking caricature of tears. Dazai pretended they were real.
(He wanted them to be.)