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Chuuya sighed heavily as he surveyed the mountain of hats taking over his closet.
"I can't do this anymore." He muttered into his phone, running a hand through his vibrant red hair.
On the other end of the line, Dazai hummed thoughtfully. "Problems with your hat collection, chibi? I told you that obsession would lead to ruin."
"It's not an obsession!" Chuuya protested, though his voice lacked conviction. "They're... essential accessories for a refined gentleman."
"Refined gentleman." Dazai repeated with a chuckle. "More like vertically challenged fashion disaster. How many hats do you actually own anyway?"
"That's not the point." Chuuya huffed. "The point is I need a drinking break already, and I've barely started sorting."
Dazai's eyebrows shot up. "Already? You just called me five minutes ago. That's impressive even for you."
Ignoring the jab, Chuuya continued. "I don't know what to keep, what to donate, what to burn..."
"Burn? Is that what we're calling getting rid of things these days? How dramatic."
"You try making these life-or-death decisions, bandage-wasting machine!" Chuuya's voice rose in frustration. "God, I definitely need that drink."
There was a pause on Dazai's end. "You know, Chuuya, drinking to cope with difficult decisions isn't the healthiest..."
"It's just one drink! Don't you dare lecture me about healthy coping mechanisms, Mr. Suicide-is-the-answer-to-everything."
"Fair enough." Dazai conceded. "Let's approach this systematically. What's the pile to the left?"
"The 'keep' pile. Obviously."
"And the right?"
"Also 'keep'."
"And the middle?"
"Also 'keep' but with slight hesitation."
Dazai sighed dramatically enough that Chuuya could almost feel it through the phone. "You haven't actually sorted anything, have you?"
"I've sorted them! By degree of essentialness!"
After another ten minutes of similarly unproductive sorting, Chuuya announced, "Right. Drinking break time."
"You know." Dazai said conversationally. "Alcohol won't solve your hat hoarding problem."
"What are you, my therapist? Just... help me decide what to do with this black fedora with the red ribbon. Should it stay or go?"
"If it were me, I'd say go. But since you're you and you'll cry yourself to sleep for a week without it, I suppose it must stay."
"You're impossible." Chuuya grumbled, but Dazai could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm taking that drink now. Need to hydrate after dealing with you."
"Ah yes, 'hydrate'." Dazai said with knowing sarcasm. "Your liver must be working overtime with all this 'hydration'."
There was the sound of glass clinking, then liquid being poured. "Ah, that's the stuff." Chuuya sighed contentedly.
"Enjoying your compensation for losing half your closet space?" Dazai couldn't help but tease.
"What are you talking about now?"
"You're clearly drinking to compensate for the emotional trauma of potentially getting rid of some of your precious hats. Classic avoidance behavior."
Chuuya was quiet for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You absolute moron."
"What? Did I hit a nerve?"
"I'm drinking water, you idiot! Plain, boring water from the tap! Who gets drunk while trying to organize their closet?"
Dazai was silent so long that Chuuya thought the call had dropped.
"Water?" He finally asked, genuine disbelief in his voice.
"Yes, water! Some people actually hydrate with actual water, believe it or not."
"But... why would you say 'drinking break' if you meant... water?"
"Because I was thirsty, you conspiracy theorist!" Chuuya howled with laughter. "Not everything is about alcohol with me, you know!"
There was a long pause before Dazai finally spoke again. "Well. This changes everything."
"Does it?"
"Indeed. I must now reconsider my entire understanding of you as a person."
"You're so dramatic." Chuuya snorted, though he was clearly amused. "Now, about that striped fedora..."