Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

No matter if you went to Community College or not, in Yokohama, to have a fully successful job; the standard was to go to University.
It didn't make sense, really, that everyone had to go through 4 years of extra school just to listen to bullshit and get a paper that says you're smarter and can have a job that didn't even need the knowledge you had learned, but required it like a bloodline.

None of it made sense, so he tried not to think about it, and be happy with what he was able to get–because he'd be damned if he ever had to go to college just to play into societies social construct. Besides, who doesn't love working at a coffee shop? Always surrounded by sweet aromas, the sound of coffee beans grinding, the soothing atmosphere–

Him.
Chuuya Nakahara, did not want this job, though he didn't see another way to pay rent on the shit show of an apartment he refuses to call home. It has good hours, good pay, that's all that matters. All he needed was something.

As he thought while listening to Atsushi teaching him how to make some of the things on the menu, and how to man the register: he figures it wouldn't be too bad. Akutagawa was there, too. Part of the reason he got the job. They had been friends since middle school, and Atsushi seemed nice. Grant it, he already knew of Atsushi, but never met the boy til now. The silver-ette had been dating Akutagawa for awhile and it was only natural that Akutagawa told him.
Chuuya hadn't even seen Akutagawa in quite awhile. He kept in touch, of course, but he had been in France for almost four years, just now moving back.
The only difference now is that he's practically penny-less.

"And, that, is how you make a Frappuccino." Atsushi finished and turned back to the redhead.

"I think I get it..?" Chuuya pinched his eyebrows in confusion. "I never knew making coffee had so many steps," he groaned.

A small smile caught into Atsushi's lips,
"you're always allowed to ask me for help. You aren't going to get the hang of this the first try. No one expects you to, either, so just try to take it easy."

Chuuya smiled softly back and thanked the other as someone came through the door, making the obnoxious bell jingle.

Atsushi looked over and smiled, and then turned back to the ginger, "I'm going on my break now, 'kay? If you need anything ask Akutagawa.".

"Yeah, of course. Have a nice break."
Atsushi clocked out and made his way over to the small booth in the corner of the Cafe, "Atsushi!" Dazai smiled looking up from his sketchbook.

It wasn't the biggest smile, but it was genuine. Dazai loved his little brother. Even if they weren't blood related, he would do anything to protect him and keep him healthy, happy.

"Hey, Osamu!" he smiled as he sat across from the brunette. "What are you drawing today?"

Dazai smiled a little more and turned it to show the other.
It was a heavily detailed fairy. The wings were beautiful, flowing almost, the eyes had no pupils which made it more enticing to look at. It's body had curves, indicating a feminine presence. But he knew Dazai didn't gender his work almost ever, so he admired it then looked away to find more hidden details. Atsushi always loved to try and see how much detail Dazai would take time to put and try to see everything. He admired his brothers skill, he always took time to appreciate it. The older deserved it, really.

"It's pretty, I like it! What inspired it?", the silver haired boy said, still examining it a little more.

"I saw a butterfly, or a moth... I can't remember, and I also wanted to practice more with anatomy again! I've been drawing a lot of perspective recently, so I figured why not~" A boyish smile spread upon his lips.

"Well, it's really good," he pushed the sketchbook back to the other. "Have you eaten today, or drank anything?" Atsushi asked looking at him.

"I had some green tea earlier, actually," Dazai said taking the book back into his hold.

The silver haired boy nodded, "That's good... Ah, also! We have those chocolate croissants today, the ones you really like, do you want one?"

They had them everyday, they both knew. He has one almost everyday, whether Atsushi knows he knows, doesn't matter. He'll keep it to himself.

Sliding five-hundred yen to the boy, he smiled.
"Get me a black tea, too?"

"Of course," Atsushi said taking the yen.
Chuuya throught it was a bit... weird, seeing Atsushi sit with the brunette, he figured they must've been friends or possible lovers, but the ladder didn't seem plausible. They didn't seem it, so he pushed the thought aside.

The brunette was rather... pretty? In his eyes?
His wavy hair was wavy, fluffy and looked to be almost silky. The dark, baggy sweater complemented it well. Also making the bandages he wore rather eye catching. It looked weird, they went around his neck and down past the sweater, also on his arms, seeming to continue up his arms as well. Pretty, but odd.
Also, slightly, if not majorly, concerning. Who wears that many bandages anyway? He's sure there's a reason, but for someone to have that many injuries at once seems almost inhumane. And his movements didn't indicate he was in any pain at all. Weird, weird, and weirder.

He continued his task in cleaning and tried somewhat to forgot about the thought, it didn't concern him. He didn't have any business trying to analyze the man just because he looked odd.

As the brunette walked home, his stomach full of the sweet treat and tea: he observed his surroundings and the weather. It was a dark day, the clouds were covering the sun and it looked as if it were about to rain. The breeze was cool, even through his sweater. He couldn't help but feel nice, secure. There wasn't a lot of people out, the sun wasn't shining overbearingly over the city, he felt calm.
The cigarette burning away between his fingers only made him feel more at-peace.

As he made it closer and closer to his apartment, he wanted nothing more than another cup of warm tea, to further fill his belly and warm his bones from the fall breeze.

Tonight was game night, so he felt enlightened he'd get to see his father. The day felt good, and he let it embrace him in a warm hug. It wasn't often he'd get the embrace, so he'd cherish it.

"Okay, that was so unbelievably uncalled for-" Dazai said with a face of faux terror at the 'Plus 4', wild Uno card.

"There's only one way to win this game, and if I have to play dirty? So be it." Atsushi stated, fully serious.

As Dazai reluctantly picked up the four cards he stared daggers at the younger, and prayed he wouldn't do it again–he would– he had only had three cards left! He was so close to winning. He felt betrayed, utterly degraded in the worst way possible.

"You guys are ridiculous," Oda sighed as he pulled a card, not having any to play.

"I'M ridiculous?! No. This little shit just pulled the lowest of lows on me! I feel so betrayed right now. Brotherly love is supposed to be forever, but I feel like my love is slowly decreasing as we continue. How am I supposed to not feel hurt by this?!" The brunette exclaimed trying not to giggle as he did so.

"Osamu. It's Uno." Oda replied, looking at him pointedly.

Atsushi snickered as he layed down, yet another, 'Plus 4'.

Dazai took one look at it, then looked at Atsushi, then slowly layed down two 'Plus 2' cards (because the only right way to play Uno is by using stacks), and looked at Oda.

"You've got to be kidding me," he looked at Dazai.

"Dad, it's Uno." He mocked.

The red head looked like he was questioning every life decision he'd ever made, while Atsushi couldn't stop laughing. Dazai felt overly proud of himself for rendering his dad speechless, it was a rare occurrence and he drank up every bit. Oda drawed the eight cards (much to his demise), and the rest of the game went just the same.
(Atsushi won, much to everyone's demise besides his own.)

Once the older man left, it was after eight o'clock, sun long gone and time for the siblings to fulfill their game-night ritual.
The shorter turned to Dazai with expecting eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, geez. Not even five minutes after he keaves." The brunette nags as he moves to the the kitchen to dig in the cabinet.

"As if you weren't thinking the same thing." the silver-ette rolled his eyes, and when the brunette didn't reply, he knows he was right.
When Dazai returns to him, he nudges the younger to the balcony.

Once outside, the older closes the door and sits down on the floor, younger following suit close by as he took the small blunt out.

He lit it quickly and brought it to his lips, declaring himself worthy of taking the first hit of the night sense he lost at Uno–it was Atsushi's fault, anyways, he swears up and down he doesn't cheat, but Dazai knows he's too good to be true– he inhaled the smoke as he took the roll away from his lips, passing it to the younger, who happily took it, taking a large hit.

"Anything new happening?" Dazai asked as he exhaled, watching the smoke drifting away, then dissipate into the air. Atsushi breathed the weed out and passed the roll back, "no, not really. There's a new co-worker at work, that's all, though."

They didn't get new workers often, so that was interesting. Dazai had practically begged Kunikida to hire Atsushi. Which, almost didn't even happen. For some reason, the man doesn't want anyone under the age of 20 working there. That, and the shit ton of requirements he has set up. Dazai made a sound of intrigue.

"What's their name?" He asked going to take a hit.

"His names Chuuya Nakahara. You might have seen him earlier, he's the ginger."

"Can't say I did, but I'll look for him tomorrow." he shrugged as he took another hit, this one being longer.

"Yeah, he seems cool. He knows Akutagawa, so that's nice." The younger smiled slightly at the thought of the ravenette.

"Speaking of a certain someone," he wiggled his brows and passed the roll, "how are you two doing?"

Dazai liked hearing about Atsushi's life.
They hang out a lot, sure, literally everyday almost, but that doesn't mean there isn't more happening. He likes asking the younger about his social life, and it seemed the other liked talking about it just as much.

Atsushi took the roll and smiled, "We're good, very good. We have a date sometime next week, actually." he says and takes another large hit.

At that moment, the brunette felt the drug settling into his bones and smiled softly, feeling everything lag behind ever so slightly.

"That's good, I'm glad to hear I don't have to beat someone up that has asthma. Still heavily offended you ended up getting a boyfriend before me, it's honest scrutiny." he said with faux exasperation.

The younger giggled after exhaling, "That's no one's fault but your own, and, yeah. Please don't.." he rolled his eyes and passed the roll back. "I'm done with that for the night. Anymore and I'll be puking all over your balcony... again–"

The brunette was happy to cut him off, shivering slightly at the memory.

"Yeah, please... don't." he repeated the younger, but with more fear than the fake annoyance the other showed.

They both laughed, and couldn't seem to stop so Dazai also opted to cutting himself off after one last big drag. After he put it back in the tin, they both went inside. Atsushi stayed the night, because no way in hell was Dazai letting him drive high. Which was best, because it seemed like the second the younger hit the couch he was out.

Dazai smiled softly, and made his way to his own room for the night. Wondering how long it'd take for Lady sleep to grace him this time.

Chapter Text

Sleeping was weird. It was a weird concept when you really thought about it, like how your brain makes you dream when it's supposed to be resting. It was the whole point of sleeping, after all: for your body to rest, yet it keeps working nonetheless. 

He tried not to think about it too much, but when his body wouldn't let him sleep, or let him sleep long enough, he always had to. Felt the need to. Or when he'd actually get enough sleep, and think about how amazing it felt to finally be well rested. But most of all: when he used sleep as a get away? It was impossible not to think about it.

Wanting to be asleep most of the time. Wanting the secure feeling of nothingness. He wished he could feel that way more often than not. Just to be alive but not even realize, until he had the dread of opening his eyes, because his body made it impossible, utterly useless, to have that wish.

Sometimes it would get to the point where he'd shut down and fall asleep, only to be woken up by unknowing people. People unknowing of the fight within his whole body just to be alive.

He hated it. He hated all of it.

As he opened his eyes to the dim bedroom, he instantly closed them. Maybe, he thought, he could trick his body to stay asleep.

He couldn't. He never could.

Always a wistful dream that would never be fulfilled in his lifetime, however long that'd be.

He sighed, even after twenty-two years: it never got easier. He didn't know why he couldn't just accept his fate, and stop hoping for the endless cycle to change.

Grabbing his phone beside his head, he checked the time, 8:24AM.

Chucking the device to the other side of the bed, he contemplated getting up or not. If he didn't he'd be in bed all day, and wouldn't be able to visit Atsushi, or see who his new co-worker was, (the ladder being the least of his worries, but he was a curious man.)

He ended his debate with a groan.
"Be glad I love you, idiot." He whispered to himself and got up slowly, not wanting to deal with a head-rush this early.

As he washed his face, he also debated on eating breakfast, but opted for just green tea. He didn't feel like consuming solids–but really, when did he ever?

He wrapped new bandages, and got dressed in a overly sized band shirt from high-school with sweats (clean, mind you, he was doing very well with taking better care of his laundry.)
Yeah, he was going out, but everyone at the Cafe knows him personally, minus the new guy, so who gives a shit, really? He didn't care what he looked like, clothing wise, especially to strangers.
No one ever should, society has just made norms making it almost impossible for people to truly be comfortable without the dread of someone else's opinion.

He finished in the bathroom and closed the door to both it and his bedroom as he made his way down the small hall to the kitchen.

Generally speaking, most days he'd be doing commissions, but no one had ordered one in a couple days. So, he had nothing to do, work wise.
He didn't want to be in the house, though. He was never a homebody. He liked being home, sure, but it was always empty; never enough light to make it feel like something worth while. Just somewhere to sleep when his body finally decided to let him.

As the water boiled, he went around and put his necessities in his cross-body, throwing it over his shoulder and walking back to the kitchen.
He pulled down a small thermal-cup, getting the box of green tea out as well, placing a bag inside the cup.

He watched as he poured the water, smoke swirled around the cup and the water turn mirky with the tea.
Turning off the stove and putting the kettle on an eye which wasn't hot, he grabbed his cup and left his quiet apartment, locking it on his way out.
Walkimg in a large shopping area, he took in the slow life around him.
It being only 10AM on a Wednesday; no one was out walking yet. Either at work or still asleep. Dazai adored walking in the morning. It was always colder at this time of day, regardless of the season, and not a lot of people came out at the time, either. It was nice. He praised himself silently for going out, he felt better. Only slightly, but now he was looking forward to the day.

He always walked, he wondered sometimes how his legs stayed so small, he walked a great amount each day, and yet? Though, he figures this is why he didn't go to college to study anatomy, he would've failed. Greatly.

Making his way farther away from the town area, he decided to head to the Cafe.
It was only two blocks away now, anyway. There was no harm in coming in earlier than he usually did.

When he opened the door to the small Cafe, this time, as the smell of ground coffee hit him, he looked over to behind the counter where he'd hadn't paid much mind to in a while. (He didn't need to anymore, he knew everyone there and saw no point in it. Maybe it was rude of him not to spare a glance; but he truly didn't see a point--- his brother saw him come in and would always come over after clocking out, and an occasional, "Hello" from Akutagawa, but that was it.) He saw the ginger haired man that Atsushi had mentioned the night before: he was rather short, he almost snickered, but caught himself as he looked over towards his brother who was already walking to the back.

"One sec' Osam--" the younger tried to speak, but got muffled as the door to the back shut.

This time, he did snicker as he made his way to the usual booth in the corner, but was stopped shortly after.

"I like your shirt."

He paused and looked in the direction of the voice, making sure the comment was meant for him. When he saw the ginger looking at him, he looked down at his shirt, forgetting he had chosen it already, and looked back up,
"Thank you," he smiled slightly, suddenly feeling awkward and on the spot.

"Yeah, no problem. What's your favorite song?" he asked, leaning on the counter and resting his chin on the heel of his hand.

Small talk. He can do that. He can do that, yeah, yeah. He can do that...
"Be quiet and drive far away, definitely.." He replied, swaying a bit in his place. "You?"

"Sextape, it's one of the first songs I heard by them."

Okay... maybe he actually could do this. He was easy to talk to, he still felt very on the spot, but he liked this conversation. He didn't know anyone who liked his music, he tried to get Atsushi into Deftones, too, but he was definitely more of a TV girl kinda guy. Grant it, Dazai was, too, but still. He never got to talk to anyone about it and he felt somewhat giddy about it.

"That one's really good too," he smiled.

"Yeah," the shorter of the two smiled back, "what's your name?" He asked tilting his head more into his palm.

"Dazai, Dazai Osamu."

"Chuuya Nakahara, but you can just call me Chuuya."

"Noted," he gave a thumbs up, feeling awkward once again. (Because who the actual fuck says, "Noted"? Why would he not panic in this situation? This was the one social rabbit hole he tried to avoid like the plague! He changed his mind. Maybe he couldn't do this—)

And as if the gods had finally taken mercy on him, Atsushi came back through the door. Walking up to the brunette,
"Boo." he said as he placed a hand on the older face and pushed him backwards.

"First, you beat me in Uno, and now you're attacking me?! That's so not cool, and against brotherly coFF—" before he could even finish his very (read big) reasonable sentence, a hand covered his mouth instead as a laugh comes from the younger.

"Shut the hell up," he said still laughing as he kept his hand on the other's mouth.

And, you know, as any other sibling would do when their sibling puts a hand over their mouth, he licks his hand.

The younger jerks his hand away, "DUDE-", he looks at his palm, mortified.

"You did that to yourself, buddy. Don't be mad at me, now." He smiled proudly.

"Now I have to wash my hands again. I'll get you back, I swear to God I will." he rambled as he made a bee-line to the bathroom.

The brunette laughed, forgetting the short man behind the counter, who was staring with shock.

Once noticing the very far from vague stare he laughed even harder.

"Ohfuck--" he gasped through laughs trying to catch his breath.
"You are going to pass out, oh my god- breathe dude!" Chuuya joined his laughter but it wasn't nearly as severe.

Coming back from the bathroom, the younger looked between the two and smiled slightly.
Soon the brunette had stopped his laughter, after quite a struggle, he and Atsushi spent the rest of his break together, and even afterwards he stuck around and just sat in the corner drawing. It was nice, the Cafe wasn't busy at all, so it was quiet. The God's were really taking mercy on him today, he couldn't help but be thankful, even as an atheist.

Apparently, too busy thanking the God's he didn't believe in, he didn't notice the new presence across from him.

"We didn't get to finish talking earlier," Chuuya started.

The brunette jumped slightly and looked up from his sketchbook quickly.

"Ah, sorry didn't mean to scare you." The shorter chuckled slightly.

"No, don't worry about it. What did you need?" He asked, putting his pencil down to put his full attention on the other.

"We didn't get to finish talking earlier, and my shift just ended... Sooo?"

He'd never felt such butterflies in his stomach before. The giddiness was back and he smiled, a good, genuine smile.

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, thats a really good album, but what about Koi No Yokan? It might be more on the popular side, but it's still so good—"

"Can I see what you were drawing?"

Later that night, as he layed on the balcony of his apartment, thinking deeply about the interaction: he decided he didn't care that the giddy feeling was still there, and that he felt good about it.

The whole thing had him constantly stumbling, but in the best way possible.

"Sure, I don't know if you will like it, though." He turned his sketchbook to the ginger. He had decided he would practice with anatomy again today. Working on his placement of the head, having it turned to the side, with hands on either side of the head. Making it look like they had full control over the heads movements. The faces' features were feminine, and had long, wavy hair. Taking on an innocent aura, but truly hiding secrets. Art always has a meaning.

"I don't see why I wouldn't?" The ginger replied with his brow raised, as if questioning him as he took the pad from him.

He didn't know if what he felt was wrong, so he let it be and relished in it. It felt warm and comforting, hogging him oh so sweetly in bliss.... but he was also high, so it wasn't helping him too much.

"It's beautiful... Where did you learn to draw?"

Most people only see the surface. They never look into anything, analyze what things could mean: A picture is only a picture, that someone only drew because they were bored.

Most people are outrageously 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥.

"I taught myself. I've drawn my whole life, mostly. I thought it'd be nice to get a degree, but was utterly disappointed and dropped out the second year in the first semester."

"How come?"

Those people that only look at the surface of art, only look at the surface of the world.

"It was useless knowledge, and just a lot, really."

"Ah, I see. Do you think you will ever go back and finish?" He passed the sketchbook back to the taller and layed his head on his palm again.

There's so much more under the surface, that people turn a blind eye to because it's "bad". Not everything below is bad, it can be beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking, but because people are blinded by the bad, they'll never see the wonders the world holds.
But, in a way, they're also smart. Shielding themselves from the bad.

"No. No, I don't."

Sometimes he wishes he could see the world they way the stupid people did, and not have to care so much. He was burdened with the knowledge under the surface far too young. Too young for anyone, but the world doesn't make exceptions for anyone, he also learned that far too young.

"Well, regardless, your art is beautiful. I'd love to see more of it sometime."

He never got to relish in something before realizing it wouldn't last, only a few things did, but it kept him wondering constantly when something good would last.
Maybe he was envious, of all the stupid people that are actually happy and content. Though, he knows now that there is no turning back. He may know of and be below the surface, but he's still human, and a part deep, deep inside of him, believes that. No matter how hard it was, he still had a chance to be happy. When this chance would come is unknown, but he knows it's possible, and that's all the more reason to stay alive. No matter the pain and suffering he goes through at a constant.

A smile played at his lips, "yeah? If you really want to,"

He might be swallowed in overwhelming feelings most of the time, but he was happy, if only a little bit. He had amazing people in his life, Atsushi, Oda, and his friends. They all made him happy in many ways, even if it was something simple like smoking with Atsushi at three AM while gossiping over anything that can get through their high brain.
It's the little things he's taken into appreciation. All things, really.

"I do,"

Today, though, he had really felt in his element.

"Do you come here every day?"

"Yes."

Him, talking to Chuuya, he felt like he wasn't dragging behind a million things, he felt real, and happy. He had never got to talk with someone about his favorite band, and he let Chuuya see all of his sketchbook, willingly. He felt he could talk to him for hours and never get bored. The only reason they stopped conversing was because the Cafe was closing. Grant it, Atsushi was closing, so they got to stay longer than most, but they had parted finally as the doors were locked.

"I guess we'll get to talk more, then?" He said it with a small, but hopeful smile, almost not visible if you weren't looking close enough. Dazai gave his own smile in return, but had an itch to run and turn away.

"I guess so."

It was almost 4AM, now, his high had wore off long ago, and now he sat on the ledge of a water fountain in Yokohama Park. An almost gone cigarette burning between his fingers as he listens to water hitting water, and looking up at the sky.

He tried to make out any stars he could, but also admired the now full moon he wouldn't be able to see for another month after tonight.

He wondered briefly, only briefly, if someone else were doing the same as him right now. Obviously not in the same place, but seeing more than he could. More constellations, more stars, something more breath taking.

Though, he decided he didn't care. The moon was so bright he could see almost clearly in the dead of night. He also marvled in the fact he'd get to see the sunrise, the beautiful hues of lavender that faded into golden as other people would wake up. He did it often, but it always made him marvel in how beautiful and elegant the world could be while horrible things happened all around.

But, he's learned not to question the world. Everytime he does, it ends in a drastic decline of everything around him. He loses touch and it's hard to get back up. It would be for anyone.

As he watched the sun finally greet the sky, he lit another cigarette and grieved the farewell of the moon.

Chapter Text

His alarm blared through the room, loud enough to wake the dead, in his opinion. He smacked the 'off' button, as harsh as the sleep still I'm his bones would let him.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he sat up, the slightest bit of frustration forming from having to be up so early.

Only his third day at the Cafe, and he's already ready to quit on the spot. He's never been a morning person and he doesn't think he'll ever be one. Maybe, when he's seventy, with grey hairs, sagging skin, and someone having to wipe his own ass for him, but now? Absolutely not.

Getting over his short 'life questioning', he made his way to the bathroom to get dressed and fix his tangled, bed ridden hair.

After that, he grabbed his wallet and keys. Only having a small amount of time to get to work. He had set his alarm to where he could get as much sleep as possible before having to get up. He doesn't regret it, no, but he wished he had time to at least breathe before rushing out of his apartment.

Long strides—as long as his legs would let him— to his motorcycle, before getting on and putting his helmet on. He started the engine and was soon off to his long, nine to five job that was, so far, uneventful, and beyond boring. The aroma of ground coffee beans and vanilla wafts into his senses the minute he steps into the Cafe. Sighing, he walks to the back to get his apron and clock in for the day.

"Morning Chuuya, sleep well?" Atsushi asks from behind the counter as he gets back.

"Could've been worse. You?"

"Can't complain," he sighs and gets back to wiping the counters.

'Yeah, it's gonna be a long day.'

12PM roles around far too slow for only three hours having passed, but as the brunette walks through the door of the Cafe, he finds himself not caring too awfully much.

As if on cue, like always, Atsushi annouces he's going on his break and clocks out after getting a croissant. Prancing to the booth the brunette resided himself at in the corner.

Chuuya thought it was unusual, for him to always sit in the most resided part of the place, but found it more odd that Atsushi brought him food before he even asked for it, or that the brunette never seemed to order... anything. No food, no drink, but says he comes everyday? He thought it might be just a routine that the two had, Atsushi bringing him the food/drink instead of him getting it himself, or maybe he's just short on money? He didn't know, and it wasn't his business, so he stopped thinking about it, but stored it away for later.

He sent the taller a small wave and got back to work, not waiting to get one back.
"Here you go," Atsushi handed him the fresh croissant with a smile. The words; 'I know you haven't eaten.' , went un-said, but were loud in the silence.

"Thank you," Dazai gave through almost gritted teeth.

The younger took the seat across from him, paying no mind to the brunettes tone, "No problem. What have you done today?" Propping this head up on his hand.

"Well, I got high last night, I took a walk to Yokohama Park around four, watched the sunrise, and worked on commissions until I came here. I would ask you what you've done, but that'd be pointless, considering you've been here all day." He finished with a sigh.

"So you haven't slept?" Atsushi stated, deadpan evident in his tone and face.

"Ding ding ding!" he pointed two finger guns at him, smiling playfully.

The younger let's out a heavy sigh.

"Oh come on! You've pulled plenty of all nighters, why am I any different?" he pouted slightly.

"We both know 'why'.", he says making air quotes.

All the taller could do was nod and sink into the booth behind him.

"Right,"

"Also, you got high without me? And you say I, broke brotherly code." He says, rolling his eyes playfully.

"It was a celebratory high! I had every right."

"Uh-huh, what was this celebration?"

"I talked to Mr. Ginger over there," he said, jokingly, and giggled. That wasn't why he got high, but he figured he'd play along with his white lie.

"Oh? And why's that a celebration?" The silver-ette asked. Tone full of amusement, making a show of wiggling his eyebrows slightly. "The, Osamu Dazai, finally getting a boyfriend? You two never shut up yesterday." he laughed.

"What? No. That is so not where I was going with this-" he laughed with him.

"Liar."

They continued back and forth—like all siblings— until Atsushi's break ended and he left.

Dazai planned to stay there longer, and he did. He worked on a few commissions that came in over night as the hours passed by. He hadn't even realized it was so late until the ginger from yesterday slipped into the booth infront of him, not scaring him this time.

He looked up from his sketchbook and greeted him, even if he was confused by the appearance, "hey."

"Hey. You up to talking again?" he asked. Dazai now thinks the man is either a very nice person, or wants to be possible acquaintances. Either way, he somewhat enjoyed the company, and nodded.

"Sure, what's up?" he set his book down, putting his attention on him.

"Nothing in particular, you?"

"Just working on commissions. A very tedious process."

"I bet, it seems like a shit ton of work."

"Not when there's so little, I try to get them done when they first get sent out, but if not, it would pile up quickly. So, in a way, yes; 'a shit ton of work'." He chuckles slightly. The cuss seemed unfamiliar in his mouth. He wasn't new to swearing in any way, but he didn't do it often times.

The ginger rolled his eyes jokingly at the parrot-ing, but smiled slightly.

As he wasn't new to swearing, he also wasn't new to his ever growing nicotine addiction, and suddenly felt the need for nicotine in his lungs after neglecting the habit since early morning. An equally tedious thing to his line of work.

"Your shift is over, right?" he asked biting the inside of his cheek out of habit.

"Yeah, why? You about to ask me to dinner pretty boy?"

"Oh, no. No no," he felt his ears burn from embarrassment, laughing slightly, "I just want to step outside for a smoke, if that's alright." He doesn't know why he says that last part, he doesn't give a damn if it's alright with the other or not. He's only being polite.

"Damn, here I went getting my hopes up. Yeah that's perfectly fine, comes with a fair price, though."

"Oh yeah? And what's this price?" he asked, yet again playing along with a joke, though this one wasn't his own.
"I get to come with you," a triumphant smile danced on his face.

"Wow buddy, we just met yesterday and you're already asking to jiz together? A bit forward, if you ask me." The comment had it's desired effect on the ginger, the smile was wiped clean off his face, replaced with a comically shocked expression. You would've thought he'd whipped it out or something.

They looked at eachother for a moment, then exploded with laughter. Making a few heads turn in their direction.

"Okay, okay. Seriously, come on." He said through laughter and picked up his bag, putting his book inside while sliding out of the booth.

He lit his second cigarette with finesse and hands the lighter to the ginger to light his own.

Taking a long drag, he let's it fill his, all but healthy, lungs. Holding it there, then exhaling slowly. Enjoying the smell and taste of nicotine invading him. Closing his eyes, he leans back and enjoys the cool evening hair whirling around them, as well.

Chuuya chose to break their peaceful silence, and part of Dazai wishes he'd hadn't.

"You'd said you've done art your whole life right? What made you choose it for a career path?" He asks, voice slightly strained from the smoke in his lungs, then exhaling afterwards.

"It's peaceful. I'm my own boss, I don't have to worry about much besides getting a project done and getting the payment." Though it was a lie, Chuuya doesn't need to know. And, probably, never will.

"Makes sense, I guess." He chuckled, throwing the butt of his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with his heel.

"Yeah."

The sun now setting under the horizon, Dazai decides it's time to take his journey home. Not wanting to walk right as it gets dark. Even if he wanted—which he does—to stay in this peaceful bubble beside the other man, he best be getting home. The sleep he had yet to give his body is now taking a toll on him.

He threw his own cigarette on the ground and crushed it, turning to the other.

"I'm gonna head home. I don't want to walk in the dark."

Chuuya gives him a confused look, almost as if he's downright stupid. "The sun's already setting, though? Unless you live five minutes away, you're gonna be in the dark either way," Chuuya stated, bluntly.

"Alll the more reason to start now, no?" He got up from his spot beside the man. Trying to hide how amused he was with that look.

"Take the subway or somethin'. It'd be a hell of a lot safer, y'know?" He said getting up from his own spot.

Dazai thought it was silly, a stranger he'd only known for not even twenty-four hours, worrying about his safety.

"I'll be alright. Thank you for the concern, though."

"No, seriously. There are some weird ass people in the world. If you won't take the subway at least let me drive you?"

"What if you're one of those 'weird ass people', hmm?" again, the cuss felt wrong.

"Fair point, bastard."

Now, what Chuuya had done next shocked Dazai the most. He watched the shorter pull out his phone and press a few buttons, then held it out to him, the shorters number being presented to him.

"Text me when you get there." it wasn't a question, and Dazai almost frowned at the forward-ness. Still so confused as to why the man was concerned for his safety in the first place. He wasn't used to this kind of treatment from anyone other than Atsushi, Oda or a few others.

He decided he was too tired to care at this point, and that he'd humor the redhead and pulled out his own phone to get it over with.

"That's one way to ask for my number," he joked as he put in the number.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, pretty boy." He rolled his eyes again.

The flush from earlier came back, but this time his whole face felt hot. He shook his head and laughed, trying to play it off. Thankful it's somewhat dark out. 'What is it with guy?'

He sent the shorter a quick text, to make sure he got the number right. Hearing the buzz of the other's phone, he sent him a smile and a quick farewell.

He texted him later that evening, assuring him he got home, just for the sake of not scaring the shit out of a 5"3 ginger.

Chapter Text

They hadn't texted after that evening. They had shared small conversations at the Cafe since, but nothing more. Not that Dazai cared, he hadn't even wanted the number to begin with. After only knowing Chuuya for two weeks, it seemed inappropriate to text him—in his opinion —so he left it be.

Now, on a cloudy, wonderfully cold Thursday afternoon, he roamed Yokohama Park. Mind beautifully fogged by the outrageous amount of marijuana and alcohol in his system. He was sure he wasn't even walking straight, but he also couldn't remember why that was important to do.
God, being crossed was great. It was like everything was gone, mind so blank he could finally breathe.

His baggy clothes made him feel even lighter, practically floating through time. He didn't know how long he'd been there, or why, but the chilly air resting into his bones made him stay longer.
Smile dancing on his pale lips, he lead his way through the park in circles, unknowingly himself.

He almost swore he heard his name somewhere, and then it echoed. He frowned, the only setback to being high was voices echoing an ungodly amount between his ears.

He heard it again, though this time infront of him. He opened his eyes and was met with bright read hair.

"God. Am I that gone...?" He mumbled and rubbed his eyes, only making them redder than before.

"What-"

"Oh, you're real-"

"Of course I am, dipshit. The fuck are you on?"

"The devils lettuce, and maybe a little alcohol.", he giggled, wiggling his fingers in the man's face.
"Y'know... That's very like you, to be a stoner."
Dazai just smiles, all teeth, and walks around the other. Continuing his journey of circles around the park, and Chuuya couldn't contain his laughter.
"Putain de merde- mon dieu."

The brunette stumbling was quite the sight. Chuuya wondered what in his intoxicated brain brought him to Yokohama Park, of all places.

Chuuya walked over to him, once again and tapped on his shoulder.
"Yo, Dazai."

Swinging his head to look at the person intruding on his peaceful walk, he looked down at the ginger.

"Oh, Chuuya. When did you get here?" His brain knew he was there, but he couldn't process it fully, so he 'forgot', in a way.

"I've been here, we literally just talked."

"Oh yeahhh~!" He giggled, "you're so short, I must've forgot," shrugging, he turned back to walk again.

Was it better for him to leave Dazai alone and let him get arrested on his own? Probably. But there was something that made the brunette so intriguing. Something that pulled Chuuya in, and he wanted to stay there.
So if he had to make a fool of himself, to hell with it. (And, truthfully, he also didn't want Dazai to be in jail. It's a nasty place. He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. Plus, Dazai was too pretty for jail.)

"Dazai,"

The other turned, his whole body this time, crossing his arms.

"Can I not just walk?"

"How about you 'just' go home?" He mocked, "You look like a drunk man!" The fact that he was, indeed, a drunk man, made it all the more funny.

The eyeroll he received was so dramatic he could've cried. One things for damn sure, Dazai is no actor.
(Oh how wrong he was.) "Fine, just stand here for a second." He sighed and pulled out his phone.

The only person who could help him right now was Atsushi. Dialing the teens number, he pressed his phone to his ear and put his free hand on Dazai's shoulder to make sure he didn't lose him.

"Hello?"

"Thank fuck. Hey, I have a question,"

"Shoot,"

"Okay, so, hypothetically speaking, say I was walking in Yokohama Park and saw a crossed Dazai walking around in circles... What would I do in this, hypothetical, situation?"

The line went quiet for a moment, then the boy erupted into laughter.

"Oh god- He hasn't done that in so long,"

"HE'S DONE THIS BEFORE?!"

Apparently, this was the best thing to ever happen to the silver haired boy, and he continued to laugh, almost hysterically.

"Okay, okay.' He said through laughs.

"Walk him out of the park, don't force him but gently guide him. Walk him around and get him something to drink until he sobers up, if he was walking in Yokohama Park, then just be easy on him."

A pause, then he continued,

"oh, and Chuuya?"

"Yeah?"

"If he gets handsy, stop him unless you want to be ignored for a month."

Then the line went dead.

'What the fuck?'
Chuuya thought the last bit of their conversation was weird, who wouldn't, really? Not that he'd let Dazai be handsy drunk, anyways.
Sighing, he put his phone back in his pocket and looked at the brunette.

"Alright, let's walk mon grand"

Chuuya did as Atsushi told him, he kept his hand on Dazai's lower back and gently guided him out of the park without commenting on it. They walked around, just like the taller wanted, along the streets of Yokohama. With little to no talk other than the brunette rambling about incoherent things and Chuuya saying 'oh definitely', to every one of them, regardless of if he understood it or not.
Spotting a convenience store with a bench close by, he guided Dazai towards it—actually, he'd been guiding him this whole time. His hand never left his back. Dazai kept trying to walk a different direction so he had to grab his waist at times to keep him there.

Crossing the street after looking both ways, he sat Dazai on the bench.

"Stay here, don't go anywhere. It'll only take me a few minutes and then you can walk again." Chuuya stated, sternly.

"Will do, Boss." Dazai giggled and leaned his head back.

Chuuya could only sigh and hope he wouldn't move as he walked inside.

Walking to the drinks, he debated what was best and opted for water. Cotton mouth was a bitch and if Dazai had also been drinking then his mouth was definitely dry as all hell.

Paying for the water quickly, he walked outside to see Dazai still there. He sighed again, but in relief and went to sit next to him.

He opened the water and handed it to the taller man,
"Here, drink this. It'll help you."

Perking up the brunette took the water happily.
"I don't know what I need help from, but I am thirsty." he said bringing the water to his lips and drinking a generous amount.
Damn, he wasn't lying. He was thirsty, or maybe it was the cotton mouth.

Chuuya only hummed and nodded in response.

As Dazai finished drinking, he handed the bottle back to Chuuya, then started laughing.

"Oh my god, I forgot to tell you! A while back," he giggled and set his hand on Chuuya's shoulder, "when I was with Fyo? Fyd? Fydor! Oda said, his words not mine, he was 'a fine young gentleman'." he imitated the man's voice and then started laughing harder.

Chuuya blinked in confusion, who the hell is he even talking about? Though, momentarily a thought passed, 'If you aren't together anymore I don't think he was a gentleman...'

But he also noticed the hand on his shoulder and gently took it off, just like Atsushi told him to do.

"Yeah? That does seem pretty funny," he hummed.

"It was, you have no idea!" Dazai smiled loopily and layed his head on Chuuyas shoulder.
"Wish 'tsushi was here, he's so fun to be high with. He's the best brother... 'M tired," his sentence got quieter each second it went on, like his mood completely flipped.

'He was wide awake not even a second ago? What the hell. And that solves the mystery of who Atsushi is to him...'

"Yeah? You want to go home now so you can sleep?" Chuuya asked and gently moved the other's head from his shoulder. He felt bad, but Dazai never would've done this if he wasn't intoxicated.

"Mhm," he nodded.

"Alright, let's get you home pretty boy." He said standing up.

Dazai smiled again and stood, only stumbling slightly, "I love it when you call me that,"

Shocked for a moment, Chuuya looked at him, then chuckled softly.
'A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts.'.

And after texting Atsushi to get the brunettes address; Chuuya took him home. He stayed outside of the apartment, but made sure Dazai went straight to bed, trusting the words of a drunk man only this once.

(Which would come to bite him in the ass.)

Chapter Text

Exhaustion is a silly thing, isn't it? To Dazai it was at least. Sometimes it'd let him finally sleep soundlessly, the best sleep he's ever gotten was after exhausting himself. And other times, it clung to him like a second skin, affecting any and every part of his day, unwillingly so.

On days like those, it's the tiniest of things that set him off, and in all the worst ways. He'd lashed out at Atsushi, once, for only brushing against him, he hated it. Hated that he got so tired he didn't care how his mood affected others, couldn't bring himself to care until he finally dropped.

He can't bring himself to care.

He tried to sleep all day yesterday, he thought getting drunk would help at least a little, wear his brain out, but it didn't. So he lit a blunt.
And in the end, all he got when he came back from the, only illusionary, cloud nine was 17 text messages, 3 missed calls, the worst headache known to man and sore legs. No sleep ever took over him. He'd cried at the vain of it all, only making him more tired.

Twelve hours later, with still no sleep in his system, he sits at the Cafe, waiting for Atsushi to get off. And after everything; tonight he, Atsushi and Akutagawa were all hanging out. They'd planned this almost a month ago. He had been looking forward to it, even if he and Akutagawa weren't close, it made Atsushi happy when they all hung out, so neither of them cared. It's not like they had a problem with each other, just not close.

But his body has decided to punish him on the fated day. He didn't want to go anymore, he didn't want to do anything, really.
Though, that's how it always is, isn't it? The world doesnt make exceptions; especially not for him.

He was just so tired–

Laying his head back on the backside of the booth, he closed his eyes in hopes of even a small rest, for the world to just stop for only a minute and let him rest.

Oh how he wished it worked that way.

Atsushi eyed his brother from the counter. He knew it wasn't his responsibility to look after the older of the two. No one had ever put that weight on his shoulders, and he doubts they ever will—or would—but he can't help but worry for Dazai. He always has and most likely always will. He's his brother, of course. He wants to see him happy, healthy.

And seeing him like this is setting off all the wrong alarms in his brain, he doesn't look happy nor healthy, he looks as if he could pass out at any given moment.

But... it's also not new.
This happens often, not horribly often, but often.

Atsushi can tell he hasn't slept, and most certainly hasn't eaten. And, for once, he thanks every possible God and Deity out there for the Cafe not having any customers so he could spare time to make him something.

Another fear, playing in the back of his head, was: how Dazai was going to react to Chuuya being there while they hang out? More so, how the hell is that going to play out?

Atsushi had become somewhat close to the redhead, considering they see eachother almost every day, and he was already close with Akutagawa long before; so he invited the redhead to come with them.

Had he known Dazai was like this, though, he would've never asked.

But it's too late, now, and now he has to face the consequences of only talking to Akutagawa about the plus one and excluding him from the conversation.

As he finished making a green tea, he grabbed a chocolate croissant and clocked-out for his break.

Quickly making his way to the booth Dazai always resides in, he sets the drink and croissant down infront of the other, and sat across from him.

"Osamu," he starts, almost hesitantly. He knows how Dazai gets, and the last thing the other needs is more stress. He can tell he's struggling immensely, he doesn't want to make it worse.

All he gets in return is a hum in response, but that's fine. That's more than nothing.

"I brought you some green tea and a croissant. Do you want them?" he asks, lacing his fingers together after setting the food on the table.

"Maybe in a little?"

"Yeah, of course... Hey, can I talk to you about something?" Atsushi starts, biting his lip nervously.

Dazai nods.

"You know how you, Ryuu and I are hanging out in a bit?"

Another nod.

"I may have invited someone else a couple days ago. I didn't think it would be a problem, but I see you're really tired today... So if you don't want to come, that's okay."

A few seconds pass, and Atsushi fears he's upset the man, but right as he's about to speak again, Dazai lifts his head and looks at him with tired eyes.

"Who?"
Was Dazai hurt that Atsushi left him in the dark of the new plans? A bit, but he was telling him now so that—

"Chuuya."

Oh. Well that's just lovely, isn't it?

Sighing through his nose, he nods. "I'll still come, don't worry. I might fall asleep, though."

He'd rather not be around Chuuya while he's as tired as he is, especially after yesterday. Dazai almost—he did—feel bad for having the redhead put up with him like that. The fact that he could barely recall it frightened him. What if he had done something weird? Hell, what if he said something weird?

He didn't know, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Atsushi smiles in return, worry still in his eyes, but he nods nonetheless. "Alright."

Atsushis' apartment was always so cozy. He didn't come often, sense they hung out at his most of the time; but Dazai always took the time to appreciate the time the younger put into making it a home. It never felt foreign or unknown, no matter how little he came, always welcoming him in, like a hug of domesticity.

He didn't know this was exactly what he needed to calm down. The warm air flowing through the small space of the living room, warmed his bones pleasantly and soothing his mind from its relentless menstruations. Tension oozing away from him as he sat on the soft couch, leaning into its comfort ever so slightly.

He was still tired, oh so tired, but he felt at ease.

Safe.

Sleep creeps up on him like an old friend, slowly succumbing and taking him in. The plush of the couch, bringing it closer and closer. Just as he thinks he finally gets to rest, finally gets peace, the front door connected to the living area opens abruptly. Scaring away sleep just as fast as it had came, jolting him awake.

'For fucks sake.'

Looking over to see who had the audacity to wake him, he's rudely reminded of the evenings plans as he sees Chuuya and Akutagawa being greeted by Atsushi in the threshold.

If he weren't so tired, he would've taken the time to relish in the fact that this was the first time he's seeing Chuuya out of his work uniform—sober him, at least—really see how the ginger expressed himself. But, alas: Fate wasn't favoring him today. That much he already knew, so he only turned his head back and waited for them all to come sit, quietly.

He didn't have to wait long, which he's thankful for, because he would have definitely fallen asleep.

Chuuya approached him first, and he doubted Akutagawa would spare more than a wave, if he got lucky. "Hey, Joli. Mind if I sit next to you?"

His brows furrowed in confusion, but he nodded, nonetheless.(He was also very thankful Chuuya didn't mention anything of yesterday's drunken adventures.)

But...

What had Chuuya called him just now? He could recognize the French accent, sure, but he didn't know the language personally, so he didn't know what he'd said. He made a mental note to ask him when he wasn't so tired.

The shorter took the spot next to him, closest to the arm rest at the end of the couch, quite close to the brunette as well, if not too close. It would have, or should have bothered Dazai, but it didn't... Odd.

(Chuuya's first mistake.)

"No. No way in hell are we watching High school fucking musical." Chuuya stated, absolutely flabbergasted that someone would even suggest that.

"You don't like it?!" Atsushi asks, almost ten times more shocked than Chuuya.

"No one likes that movie."

"Dazai likes it?! We watch all of them almost once every month!"

The man in question raises his head at the mention of his name. (He does not like High School Musical. He watches it with his brother to make him happy. Sue him. Does he find it weird that his 18 year old brother likes it? Yeah, but who gives a shit? He himself still watches Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! on occasions.)

He sends Chuuya a look, and turns back to his brother, "Of course I like it Atsushi, don't listen to someone so short!"

Chuuya almost laughed, but then realized what he had said and looked as if he could pop.

"I'm not that short, dickhead!"

Dazai just shrugged, as if tauntingly saying: 'I don't know~' with a shit-eating grin.

The shorter only 'tsk's, and they resume their discussion of what Disney movie they all wanted to watch.

High School Musical being very obviously ruled out.

. . .

"I say we watch Mulan," Dazai suggests, tired of hearing the back and forth between Atsushi and Chuuya.

(And he likes Mulan, everyone likes Mulan.)

And as if a light bulb flickered on the other's faces when they realize they'd forgotten of the masterpiece of a film. Dazai snorted and rolled his eyes.

'Mulan it is.'

Not even halfway through the movie, just as Mushu—his favorite—comes on screen, his eyes droop. It's a genuine struggle to keep them open at this point, bordering painful. He wants to give into it, finally sleep, but Mushu.

He told himself he'd only rest his eyes, when he heard Mushu again he'd open them and continue watching it.

That's definitely not how it went down, though.

He passed out, almost instantly.

He'd grieve later over missing out on Mushu, but he was eternally grateful for finally being able to sleep. It wasn't a deep enough sleep to dream, but it was just peaceful, blank black. He hoped it would last. Forever, if something out there was finally willing to answer his call for death.
Man, Chuuya hasn't watched this movie since he was little. He forgot how good it was. It used to be his favorite, actually.

The fact that Dazai suggested it made him want to get to know him more. Maybe they have more things in common, if he liked Mulan, then he definitely liked Aladdin, too.

He watched as Mushu and Mulan were first meeting and felt something—or someone—fall onto his shoulder. He looked over and got a face-full of brown locks. He raised an eyebrow and looked over to Atsushi.

The grey haired teen didn't notice him for a second but felt eyes on him and looked over. Then wished he'd hadn't.

Dazai was fast asleep, leaning on Chuuya. No care to anything in the world present on his face.

"Should I wake him?" Chuuya asked, quietly.

Atsushi could've shaken Chuuya for even thinking about waking up Dazai. Had he not seen how tired he was?! He quickly shook his head.

"No, absolutely not." Atsushi said, with an almost warning tone.

Chuuya looked confused for a second, then nodded in understanding.

"Later, then." He said.

Atsushi felt like fuming, but just went back to watching the movie.

Later wasn't good, either. How can he not get that? Dazai isn't in the head space to be awake! Had Chuuya really missed how tired he was? It was obvious, right? Or does he just know enough about Dazai from growing up with him? He didn't know, but all that mattered right now was to wait until Chuuya did wake him up and stop the utter hell that would break loose from it.

Chuuya needed to find out one way or another, right? So he'll let him fuck around and find out.

He tried to just enjoy the movie while he could.

But, alas, the movie felt like it had ended in a minute and Atsushi could only wish for a little more time before the inevitable. He could always lie and say they do more after the movie—which, technically, wouldn't be a lie. But he wouldn't dare wip out a blunt and ask Chuuya to share his life story after watching fucking Mulan—but Dazai is asleep, so they wouldn't do anything, anyways.

At the end of the day, he can stall all he wants, but Chuuya's going to wake him in the end. Truthfully, he should just get it over with as fast as he can, get Dazai to bed and not have to worry about it anymore.

God, he felt like a mother sometimes.

Chapter Text

Floating in a state of unconsciousness, he wasn't aware of anything happening around him. No worries to think of or anything to analyze. Just blissful sleep. He doesn't dream often, when he does it's off-the-rails bullshit that his brain won't even let him remember, only knowing that they were more confusing than anything. Not that he cares, they're nothing important to remember. Though, he sometimes wishes he got those whimsy dreams that everyone seems to love so much. The ones where they smile as they recall the dream. But, whatever.

Like most things, unconsciousness was swept out from under his feet, leaving him to stumble into consciousness, unwillingly. Someone was shaking him. Why were they doing that? He doesn't like being shaken awake. He doesn't like having to wake at all.

He doesn't know why, but anger is always following behind him. He doesn't like it and has never claimed to, either, but it's apparently the easiest thing for him to turn to. One of the symptoms he won't ever be able to rid himself of.

So, when the hand of the faceless person continues to shake him, even after he's woken up. What else is there to do other than slap it? Why are they even touching him in the first place? Gross. Even after the hand falls away because of his attack, he can still feel the tingly feeling it left behind. He notes to shower later. He doesn't like the feeling, it's putrid and makes his skin crawl. Why did they touch him?

Another thing he notices before he even opens his eyes is that; he's leaning on someone. When had that happened? Why had it happened?

He's faintly aware of someone saying his name. Not that he cares, but he can hear it.

He doesn't say anything, he only pats his pant pocket, and makes sure he has his cigarettes before standing up and walking out the door. He doesn't slam it, it's weak, and it barely even closes. He doesn't like loud things.

He just needs a cigarette. And maybe to be put six feet under, too. Maybe then he can rest in peace and not have to be woken, then.

He can't bring himself to feel bad about walking out as he lights a cigarette. He's still tired and being woken up by someone shaking him had just pissed him off. He doesn't think he'll be able to go back to sleep, now. The thought only makes him angrier. He doesn't show his anger, usually. Hiding it behind a mask of mutism or sarcasm, but sometimes it's too hard to care about the consequences. Too hard to care how it affects people. Because, truly, it isn't their fault. It isn't their fault that he didn't have a good upcoming and is now having to live with life-long trauma that affects him on a day-to-day basis. It isn't their fault that he feels so strongly, or not strong enough at times. It's not their fault. It's not their fault he can't sleep like a normal human being.

He takes a long drag from the cigarette, letting the nicotine rush flood through him. The buzz it gives after waking up will always be the favorite part of his day. It makes him dizzy as it simmers his nerves, making his hands shake and himself sway. It doesn't ever last long, but it's addicting.

The corridor for the apartment hid the sky, but he could see through the opening that the sun has already gone down. He can't see the moon from here, but he knows it's a First Quarter tonight.

He looks down at his hands, they're boney things, them.  His nails are long and uneven, chips missing from some that he won't bother to fix anytime soon. Both of his pointer fingers nails are yellow from smoking, there are small scars he knows are there but can't see in the lighting, and he can see just a tiny bit of a tattoo peeking out on his left hand, and they're red from the autumn-almost-winter cold. He can see them trembling from the cold, nicotine, and malnourishment. How sad. How sad that his human body couldn't take the utter hell he puts it through. He's still standing, though.

He's so tired that he wants to cry, he's frustrated because he got woken up. For what? Why didn't Atsushi stop him? Why is he awake? Too many thoughts to have sensible answers to, too many thoughts that he drowns in them. He feels like a child.

He just wants it to stop.

Looking at the cigarette in his right hand, he looks to the left one. Contemplating, though it doesn't take long for him to make his mind up. Why would it?

He presses the cherry of the cigarette against the back of his hand, hard. It breaks under the force and he winces as he recoils slightly. As if he wasn't expecting it to hurt that much. As if it wasn't supposed to hurt at all.

Though it hurts like a bitch, his head finally shuts up and focuses on the burn.

Flicking the butt away and wiping the ashes and tobacco off his hand, he puts the hand in his pocket and goes back inside. He'll clean it properly when he gets home. There's a slight disappointment because of the wasted cigarette.

The silence he's met with is deafening. Chuuya looks like a kicked puppy, Akutagawa looks like he doesn't want to be there, and Atsushi... it's safe to say he looks pissed. If he were a better man, he'd feel guilty. But he's too tired to give less of a fuck about any of this. It's Chuuyas' fault.

'No, it's not.'

He just silently walks up to Atsushi and gives him a small, one-armed hug, more for himself than the other, and pats his back when he hugs back.

"I'm gonna head home, I'll see you later." He says quietly as he pulls away. He doesn't hand out his physical affections—platonic or not— very often, but Atsushi will always be his exception.

Atsushi gives him a small nod and an even smaller smile. "Stay safe, I'll see you."

He doesn't spare a glance at anyone else, he just leaves as quietly as he came. He wonders if he ruined the night for the rest of them... Probably. He makes a note to apologize at some point. He might not care now, but he will later. It's a confusing concept, how his mind works, he can't not worry about it, because if he doesn't; he won't care how it affects other people. He can't let that happen again.

Dazai didn't show his face to anyone or anywhere after that for a while, only the short, old lady who runs the gas station not far from his apartment when he ran out of cigarettes. Not a long while, maybe five days at best, but to knock his day-to-day schedule off-key like that was a big change for someone like him. He didn't message anyone, didn't open any messages. He was vaguely aware of the few who did try to contact him but didn't care. He was doing absolutely nothing, he'd even taken the liberty to shut his commissions down for a short hiatus—much to many's disappointment. Not that it mattered to him, per se. He wasn't one to spend money unless needed. At the moment, he had enough to pay five months' worth of rent, and then some.

Those few days were spent swaddled in bed til three PM, even though he hadn't slept since five AM. Opening the window next to his bed and smoking, if he even bothered to open the window, his room smelled sickly of burnt tobacco—not that he minded, no one's ever in it besides him, he has no one to impress. He only ate once the ache in his belly clawed him out of bed. Even then, it was very little. He doesn't know when it happened, but his appetite is very short-lived. He could be starving, and a piece of toast would sate him for the rest of the day, if not two. His earbuds stayed in his ears, never alone with his thoughts. (How could he be? When Lady Gaga—she's a god sent—or hard Rock is being blasted into his eardrums?)

All he can do is wait it out, like he always does. Let numbness embody him until his brain flicks a switch for him. Sometimes it takes minutes, sometimes it takes hours, sometimes it takes days, he doesn't know how long it will take or how much time has passed. Time is a construct, to him, so it wouldn't matter if it took years or minutes. It all feels agonizingly slow either way.

Checking the date and time, just for the sake of it, he suddenly cared a lot more than he had. Tomorrow would be Friday—Friday is when Oda and Atsushi come over to play games. Silly games that made Dazai's heart swell because he never got that. He never got to be a kid. Atsushi never got to be a kid. Oda knew that. Oda knew that, that's why ever since he was fifteen and Atsushi eleven, they played games every Friday. He wanted to see Atsushi, he wanted to see Oda. He missed Atsushi... Why hadn't he noticed that?

Much to his disliking, Atsushi was his Favorite-Person. Had been since he was sixteen. People looking in on that, might think he treats Atsushi very poorly. He doesn't. He would never. Sure, he might not talk to him for a couple of days, or even a week, but Atsushi grew up with him (partially.) Atsushi knows how and what he needs to cope. Him ignoring everyone for a couple of days? A hell of a lot better than taking a trip to the ER. If he ever had or does overstep, Atsushi tells him, and they figure out something together. Something that will fix the problem and make both of them happy and comfortable. Sure, Dazai knows that Atsushi probably gets tired of him sometimes, but he's a dammed good brother. He won't ever take advantage of that.

It's not like it's a one-way thing, Atsushi has his problems, too, and Dazai is always there when he needs him. He wouldn't leave him hanging like that. If Atsushi has a panic attack? If he isn't with him, he drops everything and gets there as fast as he can. If Atsushi had a bad day? He'll be his shoulder to lean on. Etcetera, etcetera. He isn't cruel. Though he will say, it's not like Atsushi is constantly "taking care of him", though it is quite frequent, it isn't all the time. If that was the case, Dazai would just check himself into a psych ward and never leave, as unappealing as that sounds.

Oda and Atsushi might not be blood, biologically, but they were to him. That won't ever change. They are his one and only exception.

Taking a shower and getting dressed had never felt more refreshing than after a mental turmoil. Brushing the five days' worth of tobacco out of his mouth was freeing, and.. disgusting, actually. His hair was a mess, and a bitch to comb. Making the semi-curls frizz all to hell. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, the bags under his eyes looked almost sickly—they probably were—his cheekbones poked out more than they had last he'd checked, and his lips were chapped... Makeup, his solution.

Putting on a little(read: a lot) bit of concealer under his eyes and blending it out, didn't make them completely go away, but they looked a hell of a lot better. Now, he just looked pale. He frowned slightly, his face didn't look or feel like his. It was, he knew that, but it wasn't him. He looked at his hair for a moment, wondering if he were to do something with it, if it would make him feel better. Maybe he could talk to Yosano about helping him with it.

He looked back to his eyes, they looked dull, a void. Dazai was skeptical if he was even alive some days. He looked back to his—probably—expired makeup. A little color wouldn't be so bad, something that just brings life back to his sickly skin.

He picks a neutral color, one that's somewhat orange with a tent of pink. Nothing crazy, he'd probably cry if he put bright pink on his face. He put a little on the underside of his nose and the tip, blending it out slightly, then a small amount on his cheeks.

...

He hated it.

Oh well, too late now. He just walks out of the bathroom without a second glance.

Next, he checked his cupboard, making sure he had enough weed for Atsushi to have a bowl tomorrow. He's already decided he won't partake in the weekly ritual. Truthfully, he hates weed. It tastes, and smells, putrid. Enough to make him gag, really. He only likes the feeling, and even then, it isn't enough to make him love the stuff. Maybe he should invest in edibles...

'Oh, the tin's empty. Lovely. Yosano wouldn't mind a visit, would she...?'

Ah, whether she would or not, he's going. Weed aside, he misses her. It's been a couple of weeks since he'd last seen her. They'd met in high school, and had even dated at some point. Which, was weird, looking back on it... Not that it bothers him, they're still good friends, best friends, even. He briefly wonders when Ranpo will be back in town. He also makes a mental note to text Sigma soon, it's been a while.

Grabbing his phone and wallet, keys, and cigarettes, he makes his way out of the house. Cross-body resting on his shoulder comfortably. He sends Yosano a text to alert her he's on his way, just in case.

Walking to the parking lot, he unlocks his car. It'd be too far of a walk for him to make. He likes walking, but he doesn't like it that much.

The car is nothing special, he's had it since he was nineteen. It's a silver 2015 Nissan Sentra. Oda had bought it used, but the mileage is good for the year of the car. Plus, it only gets used occasionally.

Inside the vehicle, he'd argue it's colder than it is outside. Putting the keys in the ignition, letting the engine start, he turns the heat on immediately. Though it'll only blow cool air for a few minutes, til the engine heats up, he does it anyway.

Once the car heats up and he stops shivering, he backs up and begins his drive. Makes a small stop at a local drugstore to buy bleach and toner for his hair before he makes his way to Yosanos'.

"Dazai, you better not only be here for weed. It's been a month's time since I last saw you." Yosano scolded, somewhat playfully but he could tell there was some seriousness to the statement as she let him in. Then she looks at the bag he held from the store and back at him, skeptical.

He only shook his head as he took off his jacket. He may be insensitive at times, but he wasn't heartless. He knew his visit was long overdue, and the fact that he was out of weed may be the reason for his coming here, but he wanted to see her, too.

" 'Course not, I'm not that mean, 'Kiko." He held up the bag, as if to show it off, "I was wondering if you could do my hair, too. Like back in high school, and, obviously, I wanted to spend time with you." He through in a playful wink at the end of his statement, to take the small edge off of the comment. More for himself than her. Expressing his vulnerability was never his strong suit, she knew that.

She rolled her eyes with a smile. "Sure, let me get the weed first to get it out of the way and we can talk, and do whatever-the-fuck to your hair."

Unlike most of the people he hung around, Yosano had an actual house rather than an apartment. It wasn't big, but it was nice. It looked lived-in and homey, like Atsushis' apartment. She was a doctor, so her income is to be expected, he supposes.

Just as she's about to turn to go do exactly what she said, he stops her, "do you have any vapes, too?"

She turns around, deadpan. "Dazai, you can buy a vape almost anywhere,"

"Yeah, but they cost a lot."

"They literally don't."

"They do too!"

She shakes her head, giving in. "Fine, fine. Yes, I do. But you really gotta work on that. Mr. Cheapskate doesn't look good on you, when I know damn well you have plenty of money."

He makes a face of faux terror "Akiko! That's wounding!"

"Die, then." She says laughing and going down the hall. The laughter is contagious, apparently. He joins in easily.

This was a good idea, he thinks.

She returns shortly, with a small baggie and a box.

"Here, put it in your bag."

He laughs slightly, "so demanding." He jokes, but listens and puts it in his cross-body, also grabbing his wallet while he has it open. He takes out around six-thousand yen to give her in return, but she held her hand up, shaking her head.

"It's fine,"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Dazai, I'm sure. Now get your ass in the bathroom."

He's never moved faster in his life. Yosano is no force to reckon with.

If Atsushi has to watch whatever turmoil Chuuya is going through any longer, he might just implode. Atsushi grew up with Dazai, so what happened a couple of nights ago was a norm for him. Whether that's okay or not... he might never know. But, he does understand that Dazai's mind works in a million different directions at all times, so when he lashes out, he understands. Now, if it was toxic to him, he'd have a different opinion on the whole ordeal. But Dazai had never been anything but kind to Atsushi, sure, he's been upset with him a couple times, but that was normal. That's how the world works. Did he hurt Atsushi all those years ago when he was in and out of hospitals? Yeah, of course, it did, but Atsushi is never going to make him feel bad for it. His mind is a prison and he only wanted out.

So watching Chuuya go through the five stages of grief as if Dazai had turned him down is, on one hand, funny. On the other? Annoying. But he won't blame Chuuya, Chuuya doesn't know Dazai. Chuuya doesn't know how the man ticks, how he feels, how the whole persona that he uses around the ginger is, most likely— most definitely, fake.

Atsushi clicks his tongue at the thought. He's only seen Dazai for himself a handful of times, a lot more now than before, but when he's himself, really himself, he's quiet. He smiles freely, it's a soft smile. You wouldn't be able to tell his others were fake 'til you saw it. He still makes jokes, of course he does, but he's not as boisterous about it. It's calming, the real Dazai. Not the fifty other selections his brain has to offer.

He looks over at Chuuya once more, the ginger is struggling to make a coffee with knitted brows.

'How did he even get hired?!'

Atsushi sighs through his nose, turning his whole body towards Chuuya. He needs to get this somewhat sorted out. He needs to make Chuuya understand, if only a little.

"Chuuya," he calls.

The redhead peaks his head up from the cup and looks at Atsushi, face full of confusion. "Yeah?"

"Come here, we need to talk. Don't worry about that coffee."

Chuuya looks stumped for a moment, looking between the coffee and Atsushi a couple of times before giving it up. Putting the cup down and walking up to the silver-ette.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Dazai, that's what."

At that, the redheads' eyebrows furrow. As if he'd been asked a difficult question.

"What about him?"

"Listen, he would've reacted this way even if I woke him up. He struggles a lot with sleep—" he stops for a moment, like he'd spilled a horrible secret, then resumes. "—what I'm trying to say is... It's not your fault, well–kinda. But he'll get over it and he will be back." He finishes with a sigh and looks down at the redhead.  His brows are still knitted, but he nods.

"Just listen to me, when it comes to Dazai, I mean." He adds.

Chuuya looks like he wants to protest that statement, but then stops. He doesn't know Dazai, at all, really. Only that he's a stoner with impeccable movie taste.

He sighs and nods. "Okay, I will."

"Thank you," Atsushi smiles.