The memories I chase after, don't leave places to hide,
Don't cry between crevices of dreams
—Kaikai Kitan
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May 2014
Dread.
Dazai's stomach was heavy with it. The room was dimly lit, but still he could tell that something was very wrong.
The first arrow came out of nowhere and smashed the vase directly behind Dazai's head. He dodged the second on instinct, while the third clipped his shoulder, sending Dazai to the floor.
The tiny assassin advanced. She had the longest, whitest hair, and a youthful face. She couldn't have been older than 11 or 12, Dazai thought.
"You're too young to be an assassin," he tried to say, but what came out was, "You're awfully small to be using that weapon."
Enraged, the tiny assassin drew her bow and shot Dazai in the chest. It didn't hurt as much as he'd thought it would…
The dream faded slowly, leaving Dazai with just the impression of a pain in his chest, and the image of the tiny assassin behind his eyelids.
His eyes flew open, and he inhaled sharply, heart pattering in his chest. He hated those sorts of dreams, the type that sounded absolutely ridiculous if he thought about them objectively, but in the moment overwhelmed him entirely.
It was already almost eight, so Dazai didn't bother falling back asleep. Chuuya was already bustling around the room in his usual morning routine. Today was Tuesday, and Dazai didn't need to be in class for another hour, but he forced himself out of bed anyway.
He ended up taking a quick shower and changing his bandages before dressing for class. Unfortunately, it was hot enough that Dazai could no longer get away with wearing long sleeved shirts, so he put on a t-shirt instead. Yosano had given it to him on his birthday last year, and it was kind of hideous— black with ' Here Comes Mr. Slut' emblazoned across the front in pink, glittery cursive—but Dazai loved it nonetheless. He paired it with black jeans—the only ones he owned that wouldn't clash horribly—and black sneakers, just to have everything match. Monochrome outfits could be satisfying, Dazai thought.
He ended up leaving the room before Chuuya even dressed. It was only 8:20, so Dazai ended up hanging out at the campus cafe for a bit instead of just getting his coffee to go and chugging it on the way to the lab like he usually did. He'd have to go to his first therapy appointment immediately after Anatomy, so he may as well relax now.
Despite taking his time at the cafe, he still got to class a whole ten minutes before it started. The room was unlocked, and Yosano was perched on the desk at the front, swinging her legs in the air. Mori, thankfully, was nowhere in sight.
"Well, well, well," Yosano drawled as Dazai approached. "You're here awfully early." Her eyes dropped to his chest and she smiled. "Nice shirt."
"Thanks," Dazai replied. He went to his seat and dropped his bag on the desk with a sigh. "Nightmare woke me up before my alarm."
Yosano pursed her lips. "Wanna tell me about it?"
"It was kind of weird," Dazai warned her.
Yosano shrugged. "I have weird dreams sometimes," she replied. "I can take it."
Dazai hummed. "I was being targeted by a tiny assassin," he began hesitantly. "She was practically a child, and she kept shooting arrows at me, and then when I commented on her age she kinda…uhh…killed me—"
Yosano snorted, cutting Dazai off. "A tiny assassin? Really?"
"It was scary in the moment!" Dazai defended.
"I'm sure it was," Yosano said, snickering, "but you must know how ridiculous it sounds."
"Maybe a little," Dazai admitted begrudgingly.
The other students began filtering into the classroom, but Dazai didn't return to his seat until Mori arrived. Chuuya showed up right as Dazai was sitting down.
"What's up with that t-shirt," Chuuya said, staring at Dazai's chest.
"Gift from Yosano," Dazai said dismissively. "Anyway, you can't talk." Chuuya's t-shirt, which was also black, and said ' King of the Sheep' on it over an illustration of a sheep wearing a crown. He was wearing all black too, Dazai realized after a moment.
"This shirt is vintage!" Chuuya defended. "And sheep are cool!"
Dazai rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say."
"Attention class!" Mori called. "Today we will be covering the human ear. As part of the first assignment, you and your partner will be drawing a diagram of an ear together! Make sure that every part included on the list is clearly drawn and labeled. Please look at the diagram in chapter 12 of your anatomy textbook for reference."
Chuuya sighed. "I don't suppose you have paper we can use, do you?"
"Nope!" Dazai replied. "You do, though."
"Of course you don't," Chuuya grumbled before pulling out a sheet of plain printer paper. "I'll draw, you label. Got it?"
"So bossy," Dazai remarked. "I don't remember saying you could order me around."
"I don't need your fucking permission," Chuuya replied as he started drawing. Dazai had to admit, he was a pretty good artist. They'd had to make several anatomical diagrams so far, and Chuuya had nailed each and every one of them. The ear seemed accurate enough to Dazai. One glance at Chuuya's ear peeking out from his hair confirmed that the ear drawing was pretty much a perfect replica, and the way he drew it so easily—
"You have an ear fetish," Dazai decided.
He watched as Chuuya's ear turned red. "I do not! Now shut up and label the diagram, you useless mummy!"
Dazai smirked and took the drawing before carefully penciling in the names of the various parts: helix, scapha, triangular fossa, antihelix, concha, auricular lobule. They only had to do the exterior, at least for now. Dazai was sure they'd cover the workings of the inner ear soon enough.
Ears were fascinating, Dazai decided. Something about their form was so appealing yet mysterious. Intriguing.
Mori, who had been making rounds as they worked, stopped by their table. "What a beautiful ear," he remarked. "The linework is quite good."
Chuuya preened. "Thank you, Mori-san."
"And those are nice labels, too," Mori continued, glancing at Dazai. "Your work, I'm assuming?" Dazai nodded smugly, and Mori said, "Your handwriting is very neat. You make a great team," he added, looking at them both with interest.
"Ew."
"Gross."
Mori looked amused. "A team deserves a name, don't you think?" He mused, looking between the two of them thoughtfully. He hummed. "How about double black?"
Chuuya opened and closed his mouth, speechless, and Dazai said, "Can we refuse the name?"
"Nope!" Mori said cheerfully. "It's stuck in my head now, sorry." He wandered over to the next table, leaving Chuuya looking very disgruntled.
"The one day I decide to wear all black," he muttered darkly.
"I'm not happy about it either, trust me," Dazai assured him sourly.
After class, Dazai went to get himself his second coffee of the day before heading to the Mental Health Services Department. He'd checked with Ranpo about the location, and the office was right where he'd thought it would be—near the hospital, beside a small, quaint park. The rhododendron outside the building was in full bloom, shedding flowers on the ground beneath, and the building itself was short and squat. It looked at least as old as Ao Hall, if not older.
Dazai pushed inside and greeted the receptionist with a smile. That's odd, he thought. He'd assumed there wasn't a receptionist, seeing as his call went straight through to Fukuzawa. Which meant—
Why would Ranpo have Fukuzawa's personal phone number? And how do they know each other? Has Ranpo been to therapy? Not that it mattered if he had been or not, but Dazai was curious.
He dismissed the speculations for the time being as he approached the front desk. "I have an appointment with Fukuzawa Yukichi," he informed the receptionist. She had long, sharp nails that drummed against the desk in a manner that drove Dazai nuts.
"Sign in on the roster," the receptionist instructed. Dazai did so, though he could barely focus thanks to the incessant tap tap tap of the woman's nails. "Room 104," she informed Dazai.
Dazai nodded his thanks before heading down the hallway. Fukuzawa was only a few doors down, and Dazai knocked twice before he heard a deep voice call, "Come in!"
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The office was cozy, with comfortable chairs and a sofa pushed up against the wall. Its windows faced the park, and plants were placed along the windowsill, with a few hung from the ceiling. Fukuzawa was seated at a desk in the corner of the room, writing in a notebook. He swiveled his chair around to face Dazai when he entered the room.
"Hello," Fukuzawa greeted. "Fukuzawa Yukichi."
"Dazai Osamu," Dazai replied. "You can just call me Dazai."
"Nice to meet you," Fukuzawa responded. "Go ahead and take a seat, and we can begin the session." He gestured at the general space, indicating that Dazai could sit anywhere. Dazai ended up choosing one of the armchairs, while Fukuzawa rolled his desk chair closer. In one hand he held a notebook, in the other a pen.
"Let's get to know each other, to start," Fukuzawa suggested. "What year are you?"
"I'm a third year lit major," Dazai replied.
"Do you read a lot, then?" Fukuzawa asked. Normally that wasn't Dazai's favorite question, but Fukuzawa didn't sound pushy, just curious.
"Sometimes," Dazai said vaguely.
Fukuzawa nodded and made a quick note in his notebook, making Dazai slightly apprehensive, before asking, "What are your interests?"
"Uh." Dazai thought for a moment. "Reading? And…writing, I suppose."
Fukuzawa nodded. "Anything else?"
Dazai hummed. "I really like Japanese spider crabs," he blurted. "Did you know they're the largest living crustaceans?"
Fukuzawa looked fascinated by that. "I did not."
"Well, they are!" Dazai chirped. "They can grow up to almost four meters wide!"
"That is quite large," Fukuzawa remarked.
"I know, right?" Dazai gushed. "They're so cool! Did you know that—"
He proceeded to waste the next 20 minutes of his therapy session ranting about Japanese spider crabs. He knew he was doing it on purpose—of course he was, he'd much rather talk about crabs than his own emotions— but he couldn't help himself.
Finally, about halfway through the session, Fukuzawa asked, "Dazai, what brought you to me?"
"Blackmail," Dazai responded honestly.
Fukuzawa looked surprisingly unfazed by that. "What sort of blackmail?"
Dazai shrugged. "My friends think I need therapy, and they decided the best way to get me to go was by threatening to show embarrassing photos to my roommate, whomst I hate very much."
"Why do you hate him?" Fukuzawa asked.
"So many reasons," Dazai replied. "I'm not even sure where to start!" He paused before adding, "Actually, it probably starts with the fact that he's loud, like, unreasonably so. He slams—well, used to slam doors all of the time, until we made the contract."
"Contract?" Fukuzawa inquired.
Dazai shrugged again. "It was a mutual destruction kind of dealio. Fun, but strategically unsustainable. Hence, contract with terms we could somewhat agree on."
"One of the terms was no door slamming?" Fukuzawa prodded.
"No door slamming, no 5 AM alarms, no messing with each others' belongings, avoid each other whenever possible and speak only when necessary, and no throwing out each others' food," Dazai listed off. "I'd be lying if I said the lack of 5 AM alarms wasn't kind of nice."
"Why 5 AM alarms, exactly?" Fukuzawa asked.
Dazai smiled. "It really pissed off Chuuya, that's why."
"Chuuya is your roommate's name?" Fukuzawa confirmed.
"Yep! He's like a yappy little dog combined with an extremely angry leprechaun," Dazai described. "He even has a stupid little hat! What a silly guy." Dazai smiled to himself as he remembered hat soup.
"And do you firmly believe that Chuuya has no redeeming qualities?"
Dazai tilted his head. "Not really. I mean, his fits of rage are certainly entertaining, but apart from that, no."
Fukuzawa nodded and made another note. "You do appear to be intrigued by him," he commented.
Dazai frowned. "I wouldn't go that far. Anyway, can we talk about something else? I don't want to waste time talking about that slug."
"Of course," Fukuzawa said patiently. "What would you like to talk about?"
Dazai hesitated. "I mean. I guess the reason I came—my friends forced me to come in here," he corrected, "is that I have…uhh. Episodes, I guess. That's what Yosano calls them, anyway."
Fukuzawa looked surprised. "You know Yosano?"
"We're good friends," Dazai replied. "You know her through work, right?"
Fukuzawa nodded. "You could say that. Back to the episodes, though. Are they lows or highs?"
Dazai hummed. "Both, I guess," he answered truthfully. "Mostly lows, and the highs aren't, like, out of control or anything, but…I guess sometimes I am more 'up' than usual."
Fukuzawa set his notebook in his lap and looked directly at Dazai. "Do you have trouble sleeping often?"
"Yep!" Dazai confirmed.
"Do you have periods of time when your energy levels and mood are misaligned?" Fukuzawa pushed. "For example, times when your mood is low, but you have a lot of energy, or perhaps the opposite?"
"Sometimes," Dazai replied after a moment of thought.
Fukuzawa hummed. "Do you ever harbor thoughts of suicide or self-harm?"
Dazai laughed. "Don't we all?"
Fukuzawa gave him a long look. "No, Dazai, we don't all."
"Ah," Dazai replied awkwardly. "Well—"
The truth was, Dazai had tried to kill himself on exactly three occasions, though it was really more like two and a half. The first time was when he was 15, and had recently moved to Yokohama. He'd jumped off the Yokohama Bay Bridge and woken up on the shore, miraculously alive despite the fact that he'd definitely fallen unconscious. The walk home had sucked.
The second time he'd tried to hang himself. That was shortly after he'd started working at Bar Lupin, and he'd forgotten that he had plans with Oda that day. He'd gotten his arm stuck in the noose along with his head, and had hung there for several long minutes before Oda saved him from his misery.
The third time Dazai didn't entirely count. He'd swallowed a ton of sleeping pills, but almost immediately after he'd remembered that he had planned to see Jaws in Japan in the theater that afternoon. He'd forced himself to throw up the pills immediately, and went to the movie only mildly high. It was the worst movie he'd ever seen in his life.
Dazai hadn't attempted to kill himself since he'd started college, mostly because none of his attempts seemed to work anyway, so why subject himself to the pain? He'd be lying if he said that was the only reason, though. Oda and Ango had talked him out of ending his life enough times that he figured they must care about him a little bit, or at least enough that they'd rather him be alive. Dazai didn't know how far that care went in the grand scheme of things, but he'd take what he could get.
Of course, he said none of that to Fukuzawa. Instead he replied, "Only sometimes!"
Fukuzawa looked skeptical, but moved on regardless. "When you're on a high, do you often make impulsive decisions?"
"I guess you could say that."
Fukuzawa waited, as if he wanted Dazai to elaborate, but when Dazai refused to, he said, "How long do the 'ups' tend to last?"
Dazai shrugged. "Only a few days at most."
Fukuzawa hummed. "Have you heard of bipolar disorder?"
"Of course," Dazai replied. He'd heard enough to know what it was, even though he'd never actually met someone with it before.
"I think you should do some research," Fukuzawa suggested. "On bipolar disorder, and maybe major depressive disorder while you're at it. Look into the signs and symptoms, and write down anything that feels familiar."
"You think there's a chance I have that?" Dazai asked curiously.
Fukuzawa just tilted his head in response and said, "There's more than a chance, but I don't want to say anything definitive until you've done some research." He paused before adding, "Would you like to schedule a follow-up appointment?"
"Sure," Dazai said on a whim, because he figured Ranpo would just blackmail him into doing it regardless of whether he wanted to.
"How is—" Fukuzawa glanced at his notebook. "Tuesday the 27th at the same time?"
"That works for me," Dazai answered.
"Good. It was nice to meet you, Dazai," Fukuzawa replied. "I'll see you in two weeks."
"See you!" Dazai chirped, waving at Fukuzawa as he left. He let his feet carry him back to the dorm, but he barely processed the walk.
He wasn't afraid of a diagnosis, he wasn't, but…maybe he was a little scared of how easy it was for Fukuzawa to figure him out. Dazai had always been incredibly self-aware, but still it felt as if Fukuzawa had peeled back layers that Dazai hadn't known he was hiding behind, and revealed parts of Dazai that he had never seen.
Dazai wasn't sure he wanted to see any more of himself. He also wasn't sure he had a choice.
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Dazai spent most of the evening doing research. There was a lot he hadn't known about bipolar disorder—the difference between bipolar 1 and 2, for example—and getting some clarity in that regard was refreshing. The more he read, the more he felt the pieces come together.
It wasn't as if he was creating something from nothing; the mixed episodes in particular Dazai thought certainly applied to him. The discrepancies in energy level and mood, the way they fluctuated and intersected in odd, overwhelming combinations…it was all too familiar.
Dazai stayed up well into the night, unable to fall asleep even after Chuuya finally snapped at him to go to bed (what he actually said was 'put your phone away before I fry you like the fish that you are') .
He was unable to sit still for a single moment in class the following morning, drawing annoyed looks from Chuuya every time Dazai accidentally (or purposefully) bumped the back of his seat. The moment Kouyou released them, Dazai went straight to the library to do some reading.
The school library was large, and Dazai wasn't entirely sure where to start, so he approached the front desk hoping one of the library assistants could help him out. To his immense delight, a familiar head of white-and-lilac hair greeted him, just visible beyond a tall stack of books.
Sigma's expression soured when he caught sight of Dazai. "Can I help you?" He asked, looking as if he dreaded Dazai's answer.
"Sigma-kun!" Dazai chirped. "What a lovely surprise! Do you work at this fine establishment?"
"I do," Sigma replied, already sounding irked. "Now can I help you?"
"But of course!" Dazai answered. "I'm looking for a book." He paused, watching the annoyance flit across Sigma's face.
"What kind of book?" Sigma asked finally.
Dazai hummed. " 'Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders', 5th edition. It's for psych class," Dazai tacked on unnecessarily.
Sigma eyed him. "Don't you have a textbook for that?"
Dazai shrugged. "Extra credit reading," he lied, as if he'd ever put an ounce of unnecessary work into any of his classes.
Sigma sighed. "Give me a second, someone returned their copy yesterday." He disappeared into a back room and emerged a moment later holding a copy of the DSM-5. He passed it over to Dazai and instructed, "Write your name and today's date on the log inside the front cover." Dazai obeyed, and Sigma asked, "Anything else?"
"Nope!" Dazai replied cheerfully. "Thanks for the assistance!"
"It's my job," Sigma pointed out. "You're welcome, though. I guess."
Dazai grinned and gave Sigma an enthusiastic wave as he headed towards the tables in the back. Unfortunately, most of them appeared to be full. Fortunately, there was one seat still open.
Unfortunately, that seat was across from Ranpo. Ranpo, who was in the process of loudly tearing open a bag of chips, and looking directly at Dazai. "Hey, weirdo Dazai," Ranpo called, oblivious to the glare Sigma shot him and the annoyed glances from the other students.
Dazai sighed. "Ranpo," he greeted. "What an unexpected surprise."
Ranpo squinted at him. "I should be saying that to you. What gives?"
"What, I can't go to the library?" Dazai responded indignantly.
"You can, but you don't," Ranpo said pointedly. "So? Why're ya here?" He popped a chip in his mouth and chewed messily, spilling crumbs on the desk.
"Reasons," Dazai said vaguely. "Anyway! How are you, Poe-kun?" Dazai addressed the man to Ranpo's right. He'd been practically hiding beneath his hair up until now, only one eye visibly peering out from beneath the floppy locks.
"I'm good," Poe replied in his usual nervous tone. "How are you, Dazai-kun?"
"Splendid!" Dazai replied. Then he glanced to Ranpo's left. "And who might you be?"
"That's Mushitarou," Ranpo replied, answering for the other man. He looked disdainful, simply put, his hair neatly groomed and suit immaculate.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mushi-kun," Dazai chirped.
"Don't call me that, please," Mushitarou said, seeming irked.
Unfortunately, fate was not on his side, and neither was Ranpo. "Mushi-kun!" Ranpo cackled. "That's a good one."
Mushitarou groaned. "Please, not you too!"
"It is kind of a nice nickname," Poe chimed in, and Mushitarou shot him a dirty look in response.
"Mushi-kun~" Ranpo crooned. "Yeah, I could get used to this one."
Mushitarou's answering groan was resigned. "Can we please get back to studying? I really don't want to fail this test."
Ranpo shrugged. "I mean, I'll be fine, but I guess I'll help, since I'm kinda bored anyway." He glanced at Dazai and added, "You can sit with us, if you want."
Dazai hesitated for just a moment before sliding into the seat across from Ranpo. "Sure," he conceded.
Ranpo's eyes fell on the book in Dazai's hands. "That's not your psych textbook," he observed.
"Extra credit," Dazai said, repeating the lie he'd told Sigma. Ranpo looked skeptical, but he didn't push, which Dazai appreciated.
He settled in and started flipping through the book in search of the section on bipolar disorder. He could have used the table of contents, but it was kind of interesting, seeing bits and pieces of so many other disorders. When he reached bipolar disorder, Dazai skimmed the introduction before diving into the statistics and diagnostics. Similar to when he'd researched on his own, too many similarities jumped out at Dazai for him to deny the evidence any longer.
"High energy and mood, often accompanied by irritation, agitation, restlessness, impulsivity and increased confidence and self-esteem are all markers of a hypomanic or manic episode. Hypomania is essentially a less extreme version—"
Dazai snapped the book shut before Ranpo could read any more of it aloud. "It's for a project," he insisted.
Ranpo, who had silently migrated behind Dazai at some point and was now hanging over his shoulder, gave him a look. "Sure it is."
Dazai sighed. "Can we please talk about this another time?"
"Another time, or never?" Ranpo said pointedly.
"Another time," Dazai repeated.
"Okay, but I'm holding you to that," Ranpo said, pointing his lollipop—when had he gotten that out?—at Dazai accusingly and nearly whacking him in the face before returning to his seat across the table.
There wasn't all that much covered in the DSM-5 that Dazai hadn't already learned, but the book was informative nonetheless, and certainly reinforced Dazai's suspicions. The funny thing was, he'd been feeling these…episodes, since high school at the very least. He never thought much of them, especially since they were (most likely) hypomanic rather than manic episodes, at least based on the criteria listed in every resource Dazai uncovered.
As much as he tried to convince himself that it didn't matter, that he didn't need a label for the things he felt, Dazai no longer felt that was true. He'd avoided this diagnosis for at least six or seven years, if his calculations were accurate.
Maybe attempting to understand himself just a little bit better wasn't the worst idea in the world.
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Dazai wasn't nervous.
It was time for Dazai's second therapy appointment, and he was…maybe apprehensive was a better word for what he felt. He was uncertain, despite the research he'd done, because although he knew his symptoms for what they were—now—he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was faking it, somehow (as if he even could).
When he reached Fukuzawa's office, Dazai knocked twice before entering. Fukuzawa greeted him with a calm look—he wasn't very expressive with his face, Dazai had noticed, but his eyes were kind. "Hello, Dazai," Fukuzawa greeted.
"Fukuzawa-san," Dazai replied, taking the same chair he'd sat in the previous session. "How are you doing today?"
"I am good," Fukuzawa answered. "How are you?"
Dazai shrugged. "Confused. I never really thought about the…mood stuff before, you know."
"Did you do some research?" Fukuzawa asked patiently.
"Yup," said Dazai, popping the 'p'. " So much research." He paused before adding, "That wasn't sarcasm. I really did do a lot."
"I didn't think it was," Fukuzawa replied.
"Oh," Dazai said, surprised. "Good. My tone gets interpreted wrong sometimes, apparently."
Fukuzawa hummed thoughtfully and replied, "I understand. It's happened to me before, too." Somehow knowing that even someone as competent as Fukuzawa experienced misunderstandings put Dazai at ease. "Anyway," Fukuzawa continued, "what did you find?"
"A lot," Dazai said honestly. "I didn't know about hypomania before. I thought mania was more…extreme, in all cases."
Fukuzawa nodded. "It varies from person to person."
"So I've read," Dazai agreed. "Anyway, the symptoms were more relatable than I expected them to be, especially the restlessness."
Fukuzawa sent a pointed glance at Dazai's knee, which had been bouncing up and down for the past few minutes. "I can see that."
Dazai smiled bashfully. "Yes, well. It helps, I think."
"Stimming can be an incredibly useful way to let out excess energy and anxiety as well," Fukuzawa replied.
"That's what Yosano always says," Dazai said.
"She's a smart one," Fukuzawa said thoughtfully.
"Yeah," Dazai agreed. "Anyway, what's on the agenda for today?"
"That depends on what you would like to talk about," Fukuzawa answered. "However, if you're asking me, I'd say we should discuss potential medications."
"You think I'd benefit from them?" Dazai asked.
"Yes," Fukuzawa confirmed. "I believe you have bipolar 2, which is usually relatively responsive to medications. I'd recommend starting with a mood stabilizer, since antidepressants tend to make the mania worse if taken alone."
Dazai nodded. "Is it a take-it-every-day kind of deal?"
"It is," Fukuzawa replied. "I suggest you try taking them in the morning, since that usually makes it easier to remember."
Dazai hummed. "Okay."
Fukuzawa scribbled something in his notebook. "I'll write you a prescription for lamictal—a common mood stabilizer—and send it to the Tsuruha near campus. Does that work?"
"Yeah," Dazai affirmed.
"Good. You can pick it up anytime after June 2nd," Fukuzawa informed him.
Dazai nodded. "Is that all we're covering today?"
"If that's what you want," Fukuzawa said. "Technically, we still have almost fifty minutes until the session is up. Stay as long as you like."
"What am I supposed to say?" Dazai asked.
"Whatever you want to say," Fukuzawa replied. "Usually, my clients talk about their day, or their general mood, along with any recent episodes. I am also qualified to treat trauma of any kind, if you ever want to get into that."
"I can just talk about my day," Dazai replied. "It wasn't that interesting, though."
"That is fine," Fukuzawa answered. "Tell me whatever you are comfortable with."
"Well," Dazai started, "this morning Chuuya woke me up extra early—I really couldn't tell you why he needs a full hour to get ready in the morning—and of course he left the blinds open so that I couldn't go back to sleep. Then I ran into Kunikida-kun in the bathroom, which would normally be fine, except I still owe him money."
Dazai paused for breath and Fukuzawa asked, "Why do you owe him money?"
"Sink repairs," Dazai answered. "I did not break the sink, by the way. I mean, what kind of sink can't handle a little soup?"
Fukuzawa hummed. "That's a fair point." Then he added, "Shouldn't the school pay for the repairs?"
Dazai perked up. "Fukuzawa-san! That's brilliant!" Dazai gushed. "I'll just get Kunikida-kun to make the school pay! I'm sure he can do it, he's certainly pushy enough."
Fukuzawa looked thoughtful. "Do you know Kunikida-kun well?"
"Not really," Dazai replied. "I mean, he's really fun to annoy. Not as much fun as Chuuya, though. Chuuya's reactions are far more interesting." He left out the part about Chuuya beating him up, and how much Dazai enjoyed that. He didn't particularly want to hear Fukuzawa's analysis of that.
"You are…very invested in Chuuya, considering you claim not to like him," Fukuzawa commented.
"That's just 'cause like pissing him off," Dazai defended. "It's just my nature. I do that with my friends, even."
"But Chuuya isn't a friend," Fukuzawa pointed out.
"No," Dazai agreed. "He isn't." He was something else, not a friend, nor an acquaintance. 'Roommate' wasn't quite the right word either, but Dazai wasn't sure what was.
He chatted with Fukuzawa for a while longer before ending their appointment, only fifteen minutes early. Fukuzawa didn't seem to mind, at least, and they had plans to meet again in two weeks. He headed back to the dorm, hoping Chuuya wouldn't be around. Unfortunately, he wasn't so lucky.
Chuuya glanced up at Dazai when he entered. "Oh, it's you."
"Who else would it be, shorty?" Dazai replied.
Chuuya rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Kunikida came by, he told me to tell you you'd better pay up soon." He paused before adding, "What did you do, anyway?"
Dazai sniffed. "None of your beeswax!"
Chuuya eyed him suspiciously. "Oi, don't go causing trouble with Kunikdia," he warned. "I don't wanna get involved."
"Guess you should keep your nose out of it, then," Dazai shot back.
"Fuck off," Chuuya grumbled. "Have you studied for the Anatomy test?" They had an exam in two weeks, their first of the year. Dazai was surprised they hadn't had one sooner, really.
"Nope!" Dazai chirped. "I'm not gonna study."
Chuuya stared at him. "Like, at all?"
"Don't need to, don't want to," Dazai replied. "I got everything I need right here." He tapped his temple, and Chuuya screwed up his nose.
"You're so fucking annoying," he muttered.
Dazai raised an eyebrow. "What, Chuuya can't remember things well or something?" He taunted.
Chuuya growled. "You know the answer to that! It's not my fault my memory sucks ass!"
"Wow, that must be awful," Dazai said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm so sorry you can't remember anything—"
"Shut it before I kill you, bastard—"
"Aw, did I upset the wittle Chuuya?" Dazai mocked. "Sensitive much?"
"I'm not, but you will be once I beat you black and blue," Chuuya snapped.
Dazai smiled sharply. "I'd like to see you try."
Chuuya gritted his teeth. "I swear, it's like you wantme to hit you," he retorted.
Dazai made his face carefully neutral. "Why would I want that? I've told you before, I hate—"
"Pain, yeah," Chuuya fired back. "So you've said. You know what, though? I'm not sure I believe it anymore."
Dazai frowned. "Well, you should. I don't know anyone who likes getting beat up, personally."
Chuuya narrowed his eyes. "Even you?"
"Even me," Dazai confirmed.
Chuuya hummed. "I'm sure you won't mind if I don't beat you up, then. Right?"
Dazai cringed internally. This was not what he'd wanted, but Chuuya had backed him into a corner, intentionally or not. "Of course I won't," he bluffed (though was it really a bluff, if a part of him did want it?). "Still, you're a brute. I'm sure you wouldn't last a day without hitting me."
Chuuya looked like he wanted to throttle Dazai there and then, but shockingly he held himself back. He took a deep breath and said nothing, and oh no, that simply wouldn't do. Dazai didn't want Chuuya to hold back.
"How bad is your memory, exactly?" Dazai pushed without giving Chuuya the chance to reply. "I bet you have reminders on your phone for your friends' birthdays, if you have friends. I'm not entirely convinced you do," he added thoughtfully. "After all, who would want to be friends with someone who can't remember their birthday without a phone to remind them?" Chuuya's nostrils flared at that, and his fingers curled into a fist, but still he said nothing. "Oh?" Dazai taunted. "Still holding back? Guess I'll have to push harder. I wonder what will get you to break," he mused, thinking. "Maybe I'll tear your hat to shreds? Spray paint your motorcycle, perhaps?"
"Don't you dare," Chuuya snarled.
Dazai snapped his fingers. "That's it! I'll fill your tank with orange juice!"
Chuuya looked horrified. "Do you want to create explosives?"
Dazai shrugged. "Why not?"
Chuuya looked as if he was about to burst a blood vessel, eye twitching relentlessly. "If you so much as try that, bastard—"
"I think I'll do it right now!" Dazai replied cheerfully. He turned and made for the door, but he didn't make it three steps before Chuuya blocked his path. Dazai grinned gleefully. Got you.
"If you step outside this room, I'll kill you," Chuuya threatened.
Dazai cocked his head. "Oh? So you do know how to hide a body, then?"
Chuuya scowled. "I'm sure I could figure it out."
"You could turn my body into soap," Dazai suggested mildly. Chuuya gave him a blank look, so he prompted, " Fight Club?"
Chuuya still looked confused. "What the fuck is a fight club?"
Dazai smirked. "Can't tell you, sorry!"
Surprisingly, that was what finally got Chuuya to put his hands on Dazai. He pushed Dazai up against their door, gripping his neck almost tight enough to cut off Dazai's air, and snapped, "You are the most infuriating , frustrating asshole I have everencountered."
Dazai smiled. "Maybe," he replied breathlessly, "but I still got you to hurt me." Not as much as he'd have liked, but it was something at least.
Chuuya released him, looking disgusted. "Only because you deserved it."
Dazai clucked his tongue disapprovingly, and Chuuya aimed a kick at his shin, which he dodged neatly. "Better luck next time," he retorted as he retreated to his bed.
Chuuya returned to his own, shooting one last venomous glare at Dazai. "Your days are numbered," he threatened.
Dazai's smile only widened. "Good.
Saying that would be a lie,
but life was degenerate like spilled coffee
—Tokyo Ghetto
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
June 2014
On the New Year's morning just prior to my fourth birthday I vomited something the color of coffee. The family doctor was called—
Tap, tap, tap went Chuuya's pen against the desk. The sound grated on Dazai, making him grit his teeth as he forced himself to focus on the words in front of him. They'd started reading Yukio Mishima's Confessions of a Mask, and even six pages in, Dazai could already tell it would be an interesting read.
After examining me, he said he was not sure I would—
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap—
"Oh my god," Dazai snapped. "Are you incapable of not making obnoxious sounds every moment of the day?"
Chuuya yanked out an earbud and scowled at Dazai. "As if you aren't constantly humming," he snapped back. "Fucking hypocrite."
"At least I'm making nice sounds," Dazai argued. "All you make is noise."
"Go complain to someone who cares," Chuuya replied, sneering.
"Whatever," Dazai muttered, annoyed. He pointedly got out his headphones, staring Chuuya down all the while, and put them over his ears.
He put Flower of life on repeat and read for the next hour. He could still see Chuuya tapping his pen in the corner of his vision, and it was just distracting enough that Dazai had to read several pages over again. What an annoying little flea, Dazai thought irritably.
It was a Sunday, so Dazai had work at four. He left close to 3:30, eager to get out of the room. He hadn't left the dorm since Friday, and being around Chuuya for so long was driving Dazai up the wall.
Sometimes when Dazai looked at Chuuya, it felt like there were ants crawling beneath his skin. Other times, the sight of Chuuya made him feel the way he did when he ingested milk.
Most of the time, Dazai couldn't quite put his finger on the way he saw Chuuya. Chuuya was certainly more complicated than Dazai had initially thought, yet so frighteningly simple at the same time.
The truth was, Dazai was jealous of Chuuya's simplicity. He craved it and hated it all at once.
When Dazai arrived at Bar Lupin, he picked the back door's lock and went to the staff room to get changed. Ango was already there, of course. Dazai couldn't remember a single time when he hadn't been.
"Dazai," Ango greeted. "How are you?"
Dazai huffed. "I hate Chuuya."
Ango gave him a look. "Not this again," he groaned. "Don't you have a contract now?"
"Well, yeah, but that contract doesn't protect me from Chuuya's many unconscious annoyances, now does it?" Dazai defended. "I mean, he was tapping his pen for hours—"
"I once saw you perform an entire drum solo with a couple of pencils," Ango pointed out. "During an exam. Do you know how long it took me to get over that test score?"
"Eh," Dazai said dismissively. "Tests don't mean anything."
"They do in my area of study," Ango replied.
"You should have been a lit major," Dazai said, shaking his head wistfully. "Just think of the stories you could've come up with! They'd all be terribly boring, of course, and I'd never read a single one, but at least then you'd have a reason to use that diminishing imagination of yours."
"You're meaner than usual today," Ango observed. "He's really getting to you, isn't he?"
"He's not getting to me," Dazai denied. " I'm getting to him. "
"So you admit to provoking him, then," Ango said flatly.
Dazai groaned. "I hate you lawyer types. Always so quick to jump to conclusions."
"You can't lie to me," Ango said confidently.
Dazai smiled. "Wanna bet?"
"Not about this," Ango amended. "I know you're provoking Chuuya intentionally, and I also know it can't end well. Why don't you just quit while you're ahead? It's been easier lately, hasn't it?"
"He's a pain in my ass," Dazai emphasized, "and I want him gone. That hasn't changed."
"Hasn't it?" Ango muttered, but he didn't argue any further. They finished changing in silence before heading out to open the bar.
It was slow, as Sundays tended to be. There were only a handful of patrons, all of them thankfully calm.
"Oda told me Fukuzawa prescribed you medication," Ango said when there was a lull in business.
Dazai hummed. "He did, yes."
Ango raised an eyebrow. "And? Have you picked it up?"
"Not yet," Dazai hedged. At Ango's disapproving look he amended, "I'll get it tomorrow." Probably.
"You'd better," Ango warned. "Finals are coming up, and I'd hate for you to have to deal with another episode when you have to study."
Dazai rolled his eyes. "Always so school oriented," he lamented. "Do you know how to talk about anything else?"
"Not anymore," Ango admitted. "You didn't have to call me out for it, though."
"No one else is going to do it," Dazai pointed out. "Or Oda won't, anyway."
Ango huffed. "Whatever." He paused before changing the subject, "I've been meaning to ask, is there anything you want for your birthday?"
Dazai stroked his chin. "Kill Chuuya?" He asked hopefully.
"Anything legal," Ango amended.
"Bully Chuuya?" Dazai suggested.
Ango sighed. "Anything that doesn't have to do with Chuuya," he corrected. "And you can't say 'death', either."
"Well, there goes my final option," Dazai sighed. "I suppose I'll just have to go without presents this year."
"If you don't give me a real request in the next five minutes, I'm buying you another planner," Ango threatened.
Dazai clapped his hands together. "Oh, goody! I was just thinking it would be fun to prank Kunikida by replacing his planner with one that has nothing but 'fuck it we ball' written on every page. Say, do you think you could get me the brand he has? I'm sure it's expensive, but I'm sure you wouldn't mind!"
"Forget about it," Ango said, exasperated. "I'm not enabling your habits of tormenting innocent people."
"You know," Dazai said thoughtfully, "I don't think Kunikida-kun's as innocent as he lets on. I bet he has at least three bodies stored in a freezer somewhere." Then he gasped theatrically. "What if I'm next? Ango, would you rescue me from Kunikida-kun's evil clutches?"
"No," Ango told him flatly, "because between you and Kunikida-kun, the only one I can see murdering someone is you."
"I only want to murder Chuuya, and anyway he deserves it!" Dazai defended. "You'd see, if you lived with him."
"Why don't I come back to the dorm with you and see for myself, then?" Ango asked, tone acerbic.
Dazai shrugged. "If that's what I need to do to convince you to help me kill him, then sure."
"I will not be complicit in Chuuya's murder," Ango said firmly.
Dazai snapped his fingers. "Darn. Time to ask Oda, I suppose! He'd make a great assassin, don't you think?"
Ango looked apprehensive. "What makes you say that?"
Dazai shrugged again. "Who would suspect Oda?" he pointed out.
Ango groaned. "Regardless of that, I am bound by the law to report this kind of—"
"Booo," Dazai called, hands cupped around his mouth. "Law, shmaw. Try saying something without the word law in it, maybe."
Ango gritted his teeth. "It wouldn't be right—"
Dazai made the sound of a buzzer. "Wrong answer! No morality is allowed in this conversation," he informed Ango, drawing looks from some of the nearby patrons.
Ango noticed, of course. "He's joking," he reassured the customers.
Dazai grinned. "Am I?"
A group of four men approached the bar then, and Ango split off to help them while Dazai went to the back to restock their vodka supply, since they were running low and he hadn't done much this shift anyway.
When Taneda showed up at 8, Dazai and Ango went to get changed before heading to Ao Hall together. The sun had set just over an hour ago, but the air was still warm enough that Dazai was sweating slightly inside his jacket by the time they arrived at the dorm.
Chuuya was at his desk, scribbling in his notebook and periodically glancing at his Anatomy textbook as he wrote. Their first test was Tuesday, but Dazai wasn't concerned in the least. He'd memorized the locations of all 206 bones in the human body already, anyway.
"Honey, I'm hooooome!" Dazai called, loudly enough that it startled Chuuya. He whipped around and glared at Dazai.
"Shut the fuck up, you mummified piece of shit," Chuuya snapped. "I'm trying to study."
Dazai turned to Ango and explained, "Chuuya needs to study because he's dumb."
"Most people need to study, Dazai," Ango answered tiredly. "You and Ranpo might be the only exceptions I've ever encountered."
Dazai brightened. "Ooh, you're comparing me to Ranpo?"
"Only your memory," Ango replied. "The rest, not so much."
Dazai pouted. "So mean!"
"You deserve it," Chuuya cut in. Then he gestured at Ango. "You're the one who helped Dazai move in, yeah?"
"Ango," Ango reminded him.
"Right, right," Chuuya said dismissively. "You're close with Dazai?"
"Sure," Ango replied after a moment of hesitation. "Why?"
"How have you not strangled him?" Chuuya asked.
"Why should he, when I have you to do that?" Dazai interjected.
Chuuya scowled. "Maybe I don't want to touch you, asshole."
"Liar!" Dazai sang. " Everyone wants to touch me. You should consider yourself lucky, actually."
Ango sighed. "Ignore his theatrics. He's really not that bad…usually."
"Let me guess," said Chuuya. "I'm the exception?"
"That makes Chuuya sound special," Dazai objected. "You're not special, you just deserve to be bullied."
"And you don't?" Chuuya bit back.
"Nope!" Dazai replied cheerfully. "Back me up, Ango."
Ango gave Dazai a long, calculating look, and then glanced at Chuuya. "Please don't involve me in whatever this is."
"You're no fun," Dazai complained. "Anyway, do you see what I mean now?"
"Oi," Chuuya barked. "Did you bring him here thinking he'd help you annoy me or something?"
Dazai pointed at Chuuya. "Yeah! Is it working?"
Chuuya sneered. "As usual, the only annoying one here is you."
Dazai turned to Ango. "Defend my honor!" he demanded, but Ango shook his head.
"You're on your own for this one," he told Dazai. "Anyway, it's my night to cook dinner, so I've got to get going. Please try not to kill each other," he added, addressing them both.
"No promises," Chuuya called after Ango as he left. Ango's answering sigh was audible even as the door swung shut.
Dazai frowned. "Well, that didn't exactly go as planned."
"Your friends are too good for you," Chuuya told Dazai.
"Tell me something I don't know, shrimp," Dazai replied. "Any other brilliant observations?"
Chuuya scowled. "Don't bother me," he warned Dazai before shoving his earbuds into his ears and turning back to his textbook.
No fun, Dazai thought, annoyed. Then again, he waspretty tired. Tempted as he was to ignore Chuuya's warning and poke at him until he snapped, he reallyneeded a shower.
The bathroom was blessedly empty, and relatively clean as well. There was an out-of-order sign taped to the sink that Dazai had most certainly not broken; Dazai was sure Kunikida would continue bothering him about it soon enough.
After showering, Dazai returned to their room, dressed in fresh bandages and his softest pajamas. Since he was caught up on most of his assignments already, he decided to do some more reading.
They stood looking down at my corpse. A shroud was made ready, my favorite toys collected, and all the relatives gathered. Almost another hour passed…
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
On Monday morning, Dazai went to pick up his medication. The pharmacy opened at 8, so Dazai planned to get there close to 8:30. He only had to wait in line for a few minutes, since he'd shown up so early. It was a surprisingly quick transaction; the meds weren't too expensive, even without insurance, which was lucky since Bar Lupin didn't offer benefits.
Immediately after picking up the meds, Dazai bought a plastic water bottle—Ango kept nagging him to invest in a reusable one, but Dazai couldn't be bothered—and found a bench outside the Tsuruha before popping one of the pills in his mouth and chasing it with some water. It didn't taste like anything, and there was no immediate effect. Fukuzawa had mentioned it could take up to a month for Dazai to notice any changes; he just had to hope he wouldn't have any more episodes in that amount of time.
He stowed the water and pills in his bag and headed to class. Chuuya was already seated, like the suck-up he was. He was Kouyou's favorite, even if neither of them would ever admit it. They didn't have to, it was that clear.
"Hello, slug," Dazai greeted Chuuya, dropping into the seat behind him.
Chuuya ignored Dazai steadfastly, which Dazai didn't like, but Kouyou had just arrived, and Dazai didn't want to risk her seeing him mess with Chuuya. He wasn't scared of her, per se, but she reminded him enough of Yosano to make him wary.
"Before we start class, I'd like to remind you all that your psychology final will be on Wednesday, the 25th of June." It was actually their last day of class, Dazai knew; for some reason, their break started on Thursday the 26th. "Make sure you start studying soon, since the exam will cover everything we've learned so far. The full list of topics is in the syllabus." She paused before adding, "Next term we'll begin studying mental disorders, so be prepared for a lot of work once you return from break. That being said, I will not be assigning you homework over the break. I'm not that cruel."
A small relief, Dazai supposed.
"Now," Kouyou continued, "today we will begin reviewing the material we've already gotten to. I expect full participation, no matter how well you know the material already." She sent a pointed glance at Dazai, which was quite an unfair assumption, in Dazai's opinion.
They reviewed for two hours. It was exhausting; Dazai wasn't used to studying. He didn't need to, usually.
The moment Kouyou released them, Dazai went to the library to return a few books he'd borrowed, including the DSM-5 (he'd checked it out after Ranpo refused to stop asking him about what he was reading).
Sigma didn't appear to be working that day. Before returning the book to the front desk, Dazai found a table near the windows and did a little more reading. He'd already read most of the DSM-5—not just the sections about bipolar disorder—but he figured he might as well review a bit. He had no doubt it would stick with him, and only make studying for psych next term easier.
A few minutes into reading, the seats across from Dazai were occupied. Dazai likely wouldn't have bothered looking up if not for the fact that one of the occupants was eating something that smelled spicy, savory and sweet at the same time. Dazai glanced up and was unsurprised to see Suehiro sitting across from him, munching on a sandwich with wasabi, pickles and green tea kit kats sticking out the edges.
"Can you please eat that somewhere that isn't the library," Jouno said from beside Suehiro, face screwed up in disgust. "It reeks, and it's impairing my ability to study."
Suehiro chewed loudly before saying, "I'm hungry."
"Then go be hungry somewhere else," Jouno snapped. A moment later, there was a thump, and Jouno yelped. "You don't have to stomp on my toes, Jesus!" He complained.
Suehiro shrugged. "If it'll make you shut up."
"So rude," Jouno muttered. "What do you think, Dazai?"
Dazai hummed, unsurprised that Jouno had noticed his presence. "I mean, technically eating in the library isn't allowed."
Suehiro took another bite and spoke with his mouth full. "I'm hungry, though."
"So you've said," Jouno replied. If his eyes worked, Dazai was certain he'd be rolling them.
"Do you often eat food in odd combinations, Suehiro-kun?" Dazai asked curiously.
Suehiro swallowed and said, "I like when the colors match. You can call me Tecchou, by the way."
Huh. "Doesn't it taste awful, though?" He pressed Tecchou.
Tecchou took another bite. "Not really."
"Don't try with him," Jouno warned. "He's had this habit for as long as I can remember."
"How long have you two known each other?" Dazai asked.
"Eight years," Tecchou responded. "We met in undergrad at Tokyo U."
Dazai wondered how they'd managed to stick together this long when they clearly couldn't stand each other. "That's a long time."
Jouno sighed. "Tell me about it."
"How do you feel about the psych final?" Tecchou asked, addressing Dazai curiously.
Dazai shrugged. "Fine. I've got a good memory."
"What's the DSM-5 for, then?" Tecchou asked bluntly, gesturing at the book partly shielded by Dazai's arms.
"Oh, that," Dazai said brightly. His extra credit excuse wouldn't work with these two, since they were in his class, so instead he said, "I'm just enthusiastic about psychology, I guess."
Tecchou hummed. "So is Jouno. He's actually a psych major."
" And a grad student," Jouno added, "which is why it's absolute bullshit that I have to take this class."
"In our first year of grad school," Tecchou explained, "they told the psych majors that if they passed an intermediate-level psychology exam, they could skip psych 101."
"I got a perfect score," Jouno complained, "and then they went and changed the rules!"
"Yikes," Dazai muttered.
"Jouno actually cried when he learned he had to go back to the beginner's class," Tecchou said, straight-faced.
"I did not," Jouno snapped.
"He didn't," Tecchou admitted, "but he whined a lot. It was really annoying."
Dazai snorted. "I'll bet," he said, earning a sour look from Jouno. "What's your major, Tecchou-kun?"
"Photography," Tecchou replied before taking another enormous bite of his sandwich. "Anth you?"
"Japanese Lit," Dazai responded.
"I could have guessed that," Jouno commented. "You seem like a lit major."
"Believe it or not, I've heard that before," Dazai replied.
"Also not a surprise."
"You're Chuuya's roommate, right?" Tecchou asked abruptly.
Dazai hummed. "Yep! Did you guess that all by yourself?" If he did, Dazai would be impressed.
"We're on the volleyball team together," Tecchou explained. "We're not close, but we're both friends with Tachihara."
Ah, Dazai thought. "What position do you play?"
"Wing spiker," Tecchou replied. "Same as Tachihara. I'm sure you know Chuuya's position by now."
"#2 libero in Japanese collegiate volleyball, apparently," Dazai recited, rolling his eyes. "I still think being in second place is nothing to brag about."
"Maybe not," Tecchou admitted, "but he manages to receive at least 90% of my serves. The libero before Chuuya could only receive 10% at most."
Dazai guessed that was probably a good thing. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "My friend played volleyball for a while in college. He ended up quitting a couple of years back. His name is Oda Sakunosuke, ever heard of him?"
"I played against his team once in undergrad, actually," Tecchou replied. "He had a fearsome cut shot."
Dazai had no idea what a cut shot was, and he didn't care enough to ask. "Neat," he said instead.
"Back to Chuuya, though," Jouno chimed in. Dazai grimaced, and Jouno smirked as if he could see it. "Tecchou says he complains about you a lot. Did you really put soup in his hat?"
Dazai smiled. "It was an ugly hat."
"I'm sure the soup didn't help," Tecchou said bluntly.
"Do you hate him?" Jouno asked, point-blank.
"Of course," Dazai said easily. "I wouldn't antagonize him, otherwise."
Jouno hummed. "So not only do you admit to antagonizing him, you also go out of your way to do so?"
Dazai didn't like where this was going. "I hate him," he reminded Jouno.
"Most people avoid the people they hate," Jouno pointed out.
"I'm not most people," Dazai replied. "Also, I doavoid him, but it's kind of hard when we have three classes together and share a room. "
"Sounds rough," Tecchou said flatly. He sounded ingenuine, but Dazai had a feeling that was just his voice.
"How much effort do you put into pranking him?" Jouno pushed.
"A normal amount," Dazai replied coolly. "Is there a point to this interrogation?"
Tecchou elbowed Jouno in the gut. "You're doing it again," he informed Jouno. "Stop playing bad cop."
"Don't call me a cop," Jouno said disdainfully, clutching his side. "I'd rather be a criminal than a cop."
"Your brain is broken," Tecchou replied.
"At least I'm not the only one," Jouno shot back with a pointed nod at Dazai.
"Wow, how'd you know?" Dazai said brightly.
"You reek of emotional repression."
"You're one to talk," Tecchou muttered.
The two of them bickered back and forth for a few more minutes while Dazai looked on, amused. They really were quite interesting together; Tecchou and Jouno had years of (questionable) friendship behind them, and it showed in the way they communicated with each other. Dazai and Chuuya were practically strangers, even if it didn't always feel that way. They would never be close the way that Tecchou and Jouno were, and would never experience that level of familiarity with one another.
(Which didn't matter, of course. There was no part of Dazai that had the desire to be friends with Chuuya, and even if there were, it was never going to happen, because Chuuya hated him.)
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
On Tuesday, they had their first anatomy exam of the term.
Dazai hadn't studied much, but he wasn't concerned. He tapped his fingers impatiently as Mori passed the stack of tests to Yosano, and she passed them out to the rest of the class. Chuuya looked a bit anxious, Dazai thought with some satisfaction.
The test didn't take long to complete, and Dazai was confident he'd done well. Chuuya was still working, chewing on his lip as he stared down at the page. Dazai could tell from what he saw alone that Chuuya would have a less-than-perfect score, which made Dazai feel smug.
A short while after Dazai handed in his exam, there was a knock at the door. Mori opened it and greeted the man that stood on the other side. He was tall, with an arrogant expression and blond hair.
"What's he doing here?" Dazai heard Chuuya mutter.
"You know him?" Dazai asked, voice low.
"He's Professor Fitzgerald," Chuuya mumbled back. "Economics."
Ah, Dazai thought. He'd heard about Fitzgerald from Ango, who took his class a few years back. He was passionate about capitalism, apparently.
Although maybe, Dazai thought with interest as he watched Mori and Fitzgerald interact, maybe that's not the only thing he's passionate about. It wasn't quite that Mori and Fitzgerald were flirting, but their eye contact was unnecessarily intense in a way that even Dazai could recognize as vaguely suspicious.
Chuuya seemed to think so too, and looked disgusted by it. "That is not a combination I ever needed to know about," he said under his breath. "Talk about a match made in hell."
"Oooh, is Chuuya being homophobic?" Dazai muttered.
Chuuya gave him a look. "In this case, I think it's warranted," he replied, and Dazai couldn't help but agree.
Fitzgerald left eventually after a close, whispered conversation with Mori that left Mori looking disgustingly pleased. Dazai really didn't want to know what went down between them, and based on Yosano's expression, she felt the same.
Once everyone had turned in their exams, Mori went to take them to his office, and Yosano came by Dazai and Chuuya's desk. "I'm not the only one who noticed the weird sexual tension there, right?" She checked.
"It was gross," Dazai agreed. "Only because it's Mori."
"Honestly, Fitzgerald is almost worse," Tachihara chimed in, twisting around in his seat to join the conversation. "I mean, they're both pretty bad."
"They do sort of deserve each other," Chuuya remarked. "As much as either of them can deserve anyone."
"I have to agree with you there," Yosano replied.
Once Mori returned, he assigned them a few chapters to read by next week and then dismissed them. It was a bit earlier than usual, so Dazai had plenty of time to grab something to eat before his therapy session. He swung by the cafeteria and got himself some instant ramen, since he'd run out of his own supply a short while ago. He ate it in the corner of the cafeteria and loitered until it was time to go.
It started drizzling slightly on his walk to Fukuzawa's office. The sun still peered through cracks in the clouds, illuminating raindrops. Dazai wouldn't be surprised if there was a rainbow at some point.
"Hello, Dazai," Fukuzawa greeted as Dazai entered his office. "How are you doing today?" He was in the process of watering one of his many plants, and there was a very familiar calico cat asleep in a patch of sunlight on Fukuzawa's desk.
"My boss has a cat exactly like that!" Dazai exclaimed, amazed.
Fukuzawa glanced at the cat. "You aren't allergic, right?"
"Nope," Dazai assured him, sitting in his usual chair. "I've always liked cats."
"This one is friendly with most of the shop owners in the neighborhood," Fukuzawa mentioned. "Who is your boss?"
"Natsume Soseki," Dazai told him.
"Ah," Fukuzawa replied. "He was a mentor of sorts to me when I was younger, so we are familiar with each other."
"Huh," Dazai marveled. "What do you call the cat?"
"I don't call him anything," Fukuzawa responded, "but one of our receptionists, Haruno-chan, calls him Mii-chan."
Dazai hummed. "I didn't realize so many others took care of him," he said.
"He is beloved by the community," Fukuzawa replied. He set his watering can down and took a seat in his desk chair before rolling closer to Dazai. "Now, before we begin the session, have you picked up your medication?"
"Yep," Dazai replied proudly. "I got it yesterday."
"You've only taken it for two days, then?" Fukuzawa asked.
"Yes," Dazai confirmed. "I won't feel the effects for a while, right?"
"Not for a few weeks at the very least," Fukuzawa answered. "Keep me posted on your moods and energy levels as it begins to take effect. Actually, do you ever write about your episodes?"
"I don't write about feelings, generally," Dazai said after a moment. "Well, my feelings, anyway."
"Why do you think that is?" Fukuzawa asked.
Dazai paused. "I don't know," he replied slowly. "I mean, I guess I probably repress a lot of stuff, but mostly I can't usually identify what I'm feeling."
"What are you feeling right now?" Fukuzawa asked curiously.
"A lot of things." Dazai answered honestly. "Confused, mostly."
"You don't always need to know how you feel," Fukuzawa replied. "Instead of writing about your feelings, you should try writing about the physical indicators of your emotions."
"How so?" Dazai asked.
"Well," Fukuzawa answered, "write down how much sleep you get, to start. Write down when you eat, when you work, when you relax. All of these things can be mood indicators—often times when mood is low, the ability to eat is impacted, as is sleep and relaxation in general."
"That makes sense," Dazai said. "I'll give that a try."
They discussed how Dazai's week had been, and not much else. By the time the appointment came to the end, Dazai had the sinking feeling of a wasted session, and no one to blame but himself. He knewhe had more than just his day-to-day activities that he wanted to discuss, but he had no idea where to start.
"See you in two weeks," Fukuzawa told him.
"See you," Dazai replied.
Chuuya was absent when Dazai returned to their room. He forced himself to eat, and afterwards in his notebook he wrote down what he ate (canned crab and baby carrots. Yosano had gotten him the carrots, insisting that he needed to include more vegetables in his diet if he wanted to make it to age 40. Dazai had replied that he didn't intend to make it to age 40 anyway, and had subsequently gotten sprayed).
He read until Chuuya returned just after 2:30, the door banging open in an unnecessarily loud manner. Dazai sighed and gave up on reading, since it was impossible to focus on anything when Chuuya was in the room.
Chuuya glanced at Dazai disdainfully, eyes falling on Dazai's copy of Confessions of a Mask , still held in his hands. "How far in are you?" He asked abruptly as he dumped his things into his desk chair.
"I just started chapter 2," Dazai replied.
Chuuya scowled. " Seriously? I'm still on chapter 1. Why are these chapters so goddamn long, anyway?"
Dazai shrugged. "The whole book's only four chapters," he pointed out. "Did you expect them to be short? Not everything can be like you, you know."
"I'll kill you, bastard," Chuuya muttered.
"I'd let you, you know," Dazai replied. "I wouldn't fight back, either. Wanna know why?"
"Because you have a death wish?" Chuuya guessed sarcastically.
"No, because I don't want to stoop to your level," Dazai said with a smirk. At Chuuya's carefully blank expression he prodded, "What, did that joke go over your head?"
Chuuya took a deep breath, in and out. "Don't engage," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Dazai to pick up. "Don't engage, don't engage—" he turned away and proceeded to ignore Dazai for the next half hour.
It was funny enough that Dazai decided to stop bothering him, at least for now. He messed around on his phone until it was time to head to lit, leaving at the same time as Chuuya. They'd been walking to class together a lot lately, only because it was more convenient not to have to lock the door more than once. Also, it was really entertaining watching Chuuya take extra long strides just to keep up with Dazai.
Dazai had been wondering if Kunikida would continue nagging him about the sink, but it turned out he didn't get the chance. Hirotsu randomly assigned them partners to discuss what they've read of their assigned book so far. Fortunately, Dazai did not end up with Chuuya.
Unfortunately, he ended up with Lucy.
Based on her annoyed expression, he guessed she still held a grudge for the time he'd (very politely!) asked her to kill herself with him. He supposed she had the right, but it didn't exactly make their interactions pleasant.
"So?" Dazai asked once they were seated together. "What do you think of it so far?"
"The protagonist needs therapy," Lucy replied. "That much is already clear to me. He's also weirdly obsessed with death." She gave Dazai a pointed look. "I'm sure you can relate."
"Perhaps," Dazai agreed. He did see himself in the protagonist quite a bit, but he wasn't sure he wanted Lucy to know that. "He's…interesting. How far have you read, by the way?"
"I'm a ways into chapter 2," Lucy replied.
"Oh," Dazai said, surprised. "You're ahead of me, then."
"I'm guessing you haven't reached the gay stuff, then," Lucy said offhandedly.
"He's gay?" Dazai said curiously.
Lucy shrugged. "They don't say it in so many words, but it's pretty clear."
Dazai hummed. Maybe I'm not as much like him as I initially thought, he mused.
"Anyway," Lucy continued, "chapter 2 is…hmm. Queer-coded is an understatement, because really, you can't miss it. I won't say anything else, though."
Dazai nodded and changed the subject, carefully guiding the discussion back to the protagonist's motivations (which were still not entirely defined, but fascinating nonetheless).
He ended up bringing the book to work with him. Though he was the only one working, the night was slow enough that he got a fair amount of reading done. Lucy had been very right about 'the gay stuff', as it turned out. The protagonist's desires were straightforward, only muddled within his own head, but clear enough to the reader. Still, something about the way they introduced the topic, the way it was so easily integrated into the protagonist's life—it was familiar. Familiar in a way that Dazai did not wish to analyze, at least not yet.
His shift ended right around the time he reached the middle of chapter 2. The chapter's focus so far seemed to be mostly divided between the protagonist's sexuality, and his first 'love'. It wasn't love, of course, but it was close enough for a boy of his age. Even Dazai could see that much.
The sky was nearly light by the time Dazai reached the dorm. He changed quickly and climbed into bed. It didn't take him long to realize that he was far too wound up to sleep, and anyway the room was too light even with the blinds closed. Instead he put Decode on repeat, opened Confessions of a Mask, and continued reading from where he'd left off.
What more could I have done when I did not know that love is both to seek and be sought? For me love was nothing but a dialogue of little riddles, with no answers given.
By the time his eyelids grew heavy, Dazai had made it halfway through the final chapter. Despite the protagonist's oddness, there was something about him that intrigued Dazai. He was complex, troubled, and undoubtedly queer. He was also undeniably relatable, and the more Dazai read, the more he wondered.
The pain proclaimed: You're not human. You're a being who is incapable of social intercourse. You're nothing but a creature, non-human and somehow strangely pathetic.