Chapter Text
Late on a Wednesday, and the bar is still full. The sight caused you to hesitate at the door. Back in your hometown this was unthinkable. Anyone who was drinking at this hour was drinking in the privacy of their own home.
Though crowded with patrons, the chatter never rose above the soft jazz drifting through the room. The warm amber lighting cast a gentle glow over the plush velvet chairs at the bar, making them look especially inviting. Slipping into the first open seat at the bar, you settled beside a young man.
You caught the bartender’s eye and offered a small smile. He didn’t smile back. It stung more than it should.
There was nothing to get upset over, you rationalized. This wasn’t some rural snack bar at home running on pure camaraderie. It was just a business. They served drinks and took orders. No feelings involved. Just solid, reliable city efficiency.
The bartender made his way over to you and took your order with zero fanfare. No small talk, no personal questions about how your family was doing. Purely transactional.
This was good, you reminded yourself. In fact, it was what you wanted. Small-town life was suffocating. Being left alone was the whole point of moving to a city like Yokohama.
Your chin rested in your palm as you braced yourself for another quiet evening, a drink and thoughts being your only company. Still, for reasons you didn’t bother properly acknowledging, a sigh escaped you.
“That sigh didn’t sound happy.”
The voice beside you pulled you out of your head.
You turned, startled, eyes widening slightly as you met his gaze. He looked far too at ease, his coat hanging off the back of his chair like he had been here for a while. Dressed in a nice vest and high-quality overcoat, it seemed safe to assume he was the same as you—grabbing a drink after work.
“Could it be…” he continued, tilting his head just enough to study your face, “that a lovely woman like yourself is thinking about dying?”
The bartender reappeared just then, setting your drink down with a soft clink. His eyes flicked between the two of you, expression flat and faintly disapproving before he turned away to tend to another patron.
The bartender’s judgment was honestly warranted. That was a ridiculous thing to say to a stranger, especially in a crowded public place. The fact that nobody else even looked over was honestly baffling. Back home, every single head would have turned.
A quiet laugh slipped out as you shook your head. You knew your reaction should have been similar if not the same as the bartender. Unfortunately, the absurdity of that statement was too funny to ignore. You might as well play along.
“Was my sigh that dramatic?”
Mimicking him, you tilted your head to study him in return.
He was shockingly handsome. Messy brown hair framed a face lit with a bright, almost careless cheer. Then, you met his eyes.
Your breath caught in your throat.
His eyes were unlike anything you’d seen, dark brown and far too still. Not empty, exactly, but unreadable in a way that made you subconsciously lean back. Is this really someone safe to be entertaining?
“As a man, I can’t possibly ignore the sigh of any young woman—”
Another laugh slipped out, interrupting what was bound to be another ridiculous statement. You couldn’t help but relax a bit and, against your better judgment, you responded.
“How lucky am I?” you grinned. “It seems I’ve ended up next to the most kind-hearted man in Yokohama.”
You winked.
He brought a hand to his cheek as if to hide a blush—whether it’s actually there or not was impossible to tell.
“So,” you continued lightly, “what if I was?”
Your gaze lingered on him, curiosity prompting you to ask,
“How would you help me?”
This question made the man come to life. He leaned forward, entering your personal space with glossy eyes and an enthusiastic smile. He looked like a child who had just been asked about their favorite game.
“I’d do what any good citizen would do,” he said, voice full of conviction.
He raised his glass.
“I’d offer a double suicide.”
There was a pause, then your drink rose to meet his with a soft clink.
“Well, I guess if I was suicidal that would make me feel better. I think.” You shrugged.
The bartender appeared again—this time looking less judgmental and more thoroughly fed up.
“I can’t take this anymore,” he snapped, jabbing a finger toward the brunette who was currently trying his best to look wide-eyed and innocent.
“Nothing he’s said has been normal or helpful. Don’t encourage it!”
“Oh… um. Sorry, my bad.” You stuttered, hands lifting in surrender.
The young man leaned back, snickering into his hand as the bartender walked away. His smile softened into something more intimate.
“My name is Osamu Dazai,” he said as if the last few moments never happened. His gaze settled on you, lighter now but somehow no less intense.
You managed to get halfway through your introduction before Dazai gasped dramatically.
“No! Don’t ruin it.”
“…Ruin what?”
“The image I’ve constructed of you in my mind.”
He pointed at you decisively.
“From now on, you shall be ‘Melancholy Belladonna.’”
“…That’s horrible.”
“Thank you.”
You and Dazai remained at the bar far longer than you intended. Whether the same could be said for him was harder to tell.
Not that it mattered. With each drink, your smile only grew wider and your inhibitions loosened.
This was the longest conversation you’d had since moving to the city. In fact, you could almost swear that talking and laughing with another person was what gave you the buzz.
Truthfully, Dazai was the perfect solution to a problem you hadn’t even truly accepted. That you were lonely. You missed your friends back home. You even missed…
A sigh escaped you, interrupting whatever tangent Dazai was on.
“Ah? Another cry for help?” Dazai threw his arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his side, almost knocking you off the stool. He hiccuped in your ear. Then he kept going. Loudly.
“How cruel! My friendship wasn’t enough to save you? Lonely Belladonna, let me make it up to you—I’ll kill myself with you!” he bemoaned, clutching you tighter and tighter.
In your drunken haze, you didn’t hear the majority of what he said.
“I thought,” you trailed off for a moment, furrowing your brows in concentration before focusing on Dazai, “it was mel… melan… Melancholy Belladonna.”
He didn’t waste a second before bursting out into laughter. Right in your ear.
You pulled away from him and Dazai just continued to laugh. Free from his grasp, you stared blankly at the young man as he doubled over the bar, still cracking up.
Instinctively, you wanted to tell him to stop. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a familiar voice insisted that this behavior is unacceptable.
Should you be embarrassed?
More importantly, should you be ashamed that you aren’t?
Apparently, the bartender thought so. He stormed over, already shushing Dazai before he even reached your end of the bar.
“Alright, now that’s enough. You two are cut off, pay your tab and go—”
“But—” Dazai tried to speak up and is promptly interrupted.
“Quietly.” The man shot Dazai a nasty glare. “You two have five minutes before I come back with your check. Be ready.”
“Are… we in trouble?” you asked.
“Not at all, lovely!” Dazai practically chirped before spinning your chair to face him.
The room swirled in slow, dizzying circles, like looking into a kaleidoscope. He grabbed your hands and started talking again, not giving your mind a chance to catch up.
“Well, I have super important detective work tomorrow. I better get going. Bye!”
Before you knew it, Dazai was gone and the check for the entire night was in front of you. The bartender only shook his head and looked at you with something mixed between disbelief and pity.
“Did—did he just?”
“Yes. He did.”
As you struggled to count out the proper amount to pay, only one thought ran through your mind.
City life sure is different.