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Fyodor cleared his throat, gun pointed at the intruder who was sleeping on his couch.
Was this really what he was waking up to? A person sleeping on his couch, in his small one-bedroom apartment.
He had locked the door. So why was there just some random person here?
He nudged the tip of the gun on the person's back, trying to gently wake them up.
Their back was facing him so Fyodor could not see what they were wearing except the large brown blood-stained coat that wrapped their body. Additionally, his dark brown hair was practically a nest that covered his whole face.
He tapped the person with the gun again.
This time with slightly more strength.
The man was tall. Very tall and if it weren't for him wrapping himself into a ball, his legs would be sticking out off the couch.
The man stirred for a moment and then slowly sat up, yawning and seemingly unfazed when they saw the gun pointed at him.
"I'm not trying to rob you. You can put it down." The brunette said. He sounded almost reluctant.
"Of course, you're not, but I need to know why you are here," Fyodor said, not lowering the gun.
The man smiled "what are you doing here?"
"I live here." Fyodor deadpanned.
"No, you don't. You're hiding here." The man continued, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
There was a sudden realization. Like a switch clicking in Fyodor's head. "Then who are you hiding from?" He asked suddenly intrigued.
"Same from you I would guess."
Fyodor nodded his head in understanding.
"But what's to stop me from shooting you?"
He had to keep a low profile. Anyone who had come into contact with him was a threat. The Decay of the Angles depended solely on him at the moment.
Since their boss was trying to find the book, everyone was now told to stay out of trouble and he would be in charge of settling any complications.
It was safer to pull the trigger.
To get rid of unwanted people who had seen him.
"I would be a great opponent for chess." The man said, as though he read Fyodor's thoughts.
"What makes you say that?"
The man smiled and in one swift movement, grabbed the gun, twisted it out of his grasp, and shot the chessboard that was on the coffee table, squarely in the center.
"Checkmate." He smirked proudly.
"That was in no way a checkmate," Fyodor said nonchalantly.
The man groaned. "Ughhhhh. Just let me pretend to be cool at least...." he tossed the gun to Fyodor and flumped back onto the couch.
"Someone died on that," Fyodor stated as he walked back to the kitchen and kept the gun.
"Of course. That's why this place is so cheap."
Fyodor found the man quite interesting.
So they sat down for a cup of tea, in the cold Russian weather, and chatted about how they ended up in their current situation.
Dazai stuck to the truth for the most part. Only lying about why he left the mafia.
Fyodor seemed to appreciate his honesty and in turn, told Dazai the truth too. Well, he did lie about who was in charge of the DOA and claimed that he was at the top of everything. He couldn't risk someone else finding out their true leader.
That very night, Dazai was lying on the musty yellow sofa, staring at the mold on the ceiling.
Like he was watching it grow and slowly take over the apartment.
Fydor walked out of his bedroom, the only bedroom, given that this place was a one-bedroom apartment to see that Dazai had not moved an inch since 8 hours earlier.
"What exactly are you thinking about?"
Dazai sighed. "Dostovesky-kun..."
And Fyodor waited patiently for him to continue.
"I'm hungry. "
"Then go and eat."
"Am I allowed to?"
For a genius, this man was annoying.
"What happens if you're not?"
Dazai let out another dramatic sigh. "But I'm too tired to go and get it for myself..."
"Then starve."
"Could you please help me get some food?"
Fyodor walked into the kitchen, opened the first cabinet he saw, and took the first thing he could find.
He walked back out and threw a salt shaker at Dazai.
It hit Dazai on the forehead before falling off the couch and onto the ground.
Dazai blinked, then burst out laughing.
"This is all the food we have actually," Fyodor said. "I was going to go and get some groceries but Instead I woke up to you sleeping on my couch."
Dazai shook his head and laughed some more.
"I didn't know you have such a good sense of humor Dostovesky-Kun," Dazai said in slightly broken Russian.
"Your Russian is horrible."
Dazai rolled his eyes. "I only had the 7 hours on the flight to learn this okay?" He said defensively in Japanese.
"Well I just spent a couple of hours learning your language and I think I'm doing perfectly fine."
That was true. Fyodor had spent the entire the afternoon and earlier part of the evening learning Japanese.
It was, he had to admit, challenging to pronounce some words.
But he figured it out soon enough.
"You're not bad. But you've got an accent."
"So do you." The Russian spat, slightly offended.
"Let's go buy some food. I'm hungry." Dazai quickly got up and raced to the door.
"Well? Hurry up!"
Fyodor rolled his eyes and followed him out the door.
Once they left the apartment building, Dazai let out a long whistle. "Now I remember why Russian was at the bottom of my list. It's freezing here." He put his hands in the pocket of his coat.
The sun was starting to set, the sky a mix of blue and orange, with pink clouds and yellow highlights here and there.
Fyodor didn't say anything. It was a short walk to the grocery store so he didn't bother wearing a coat.
"Aren't you cold?"
"If you live here for long enough you'll get used to it."
Dazai seemed satisfied with the answer.
By the time they reached the store, the sun had set and it started snowing.
Dazai involuntarily shivered as a gust of wind blew, and snowflakes hit his face.
He turned to Fyodor who was currently holding the door open for him.
"How are you not cold?" Dazai asked again.
"Get in or I will leave you out here."
Dazai smiled and walked in.
"How are you not cold?"
Fyodor was wearing jeans and a plain dark blue T-shirt.
Fyodor shrugged. "If you like we could get you some new clothes."
Dazai didn't know exactly when Fyodor had agreed to him crashing at his place, but he happily accepted the invitation.
"What's the budget?" He beamed brightly.
"Laundry days are on Saturday. Don't worry about money and just get enough jackets and coats so you can stop complaining in my ear like an annoying fly."
"Sure thing!" And Dazai ran down the aisle and took a sharp turn to the left where the clothes here.
The grocery store didn't have a large variety of outfits, because well, it was a grocery store but Dazai managed to find some clothes that he thought weren't that shabby.
Fyodor left to get actual groceries and browsed through some vodka while he was at it.
They met back an hour later at the cashier.
Dazai held the pile of clothes out at Fyodor expectantly.
Fyodor gave him a blank look.
"What?"
"You're paying right?"
"Do you have any money?"
Dazai gave another bright smile. "Thanks, Dostovesky-kun! You're the best!"
Fyodor hummed in response and placed the basket in front of the cashier.
Dazai beamed brightly while Fyodor handed the lady the cash.
Then, they left.
Dazai offered to take the bags after he hastily put on a white coat on top of Oda's.
Two coats helped warm him up.
They walked back in comfortable silence.
The next morning, Fyodor got up at 6:30 in the morning as usual to see Dazai sleeping on his couch, using his friend's coat as a blanket.
He looked peaceful in his sleep.
No fake wide smile.
No gloomy bored face.
He just looked peaceful.
He walked quietly to the kitchen, to not wake his new unconventional roommate up, and prepared a cup of tea.
But his efforts were fruitless.
In the time that it took for the water to boil, Dazai had woken up.
Fyodor felt slightly annoyed at how he wasted his energy but decided to let it go.
The brunette yawned and rolled over in an attempt to stretch but he fell off the narrow couch instead.
There was a soft thud as his body hit the cold, worn-out wooden floors of the apartment.
Fyodor poked his head out of the kitchen. "Good morning." He greeted.
Dazai mumbled something ineligible, grabbed Oda's coat off the sofa, and wrapped his arms around it. Then, he laid back down on the floor and fell back asleep.
Fyodor could only imagine the pain in his back when Dazai woke up later but he let him sleep. The flight to Russia must have been draining so it might take a few days for Dazai to adjust and get over the jetlag.
And with Dazai asleep, he wouldn't have an annoying new roommate to deal with.