Chapter Text
It was a quiet morning that day. No disturbances, no outside voices, and no heavy traffic. Sure, there would be the occasional whoosh of a car driving past, but it was rare, and other than that it was quiet. Everything but the low hum of the AC as it kicked on for the day, barely necessary for how cool the spring had begun, but even that kept to a low. It was silent, peaceful, and still.
And Dazai Osamu woke up with his head pounding and a dire cramp in his leg.
It made sense, really. There were empty bottles all around his mattress, some old, some new, and since there was no one in his home to stop him, he had basically asked for it. Nevertheless, as he used his foot to close the crack of light coming in through his shades and covered his head, there might have been a slight amount of regret floating around in him. After all, now all he felt was groggy, painful, and gross, and while that was how he usually felt, it hit differently in the early morning when he expected to open his eyes with nothing but mental agony—now the physical side had been added to it. At least he had nothing to do that day, just suffer—or did he? He couldn’t remember for the life of him, and safely assumed that he indeed didn’t. He’d check later, it didn’t matter. For now, he wondered if sleeping would make the headache go away.
Close to an hour later, after laying around in and out of sleep and ignoring the disgusting taste in his mouth, Dazai finally managed to pull himself into a sitting position, staring blankly at his lap for a few moments before reaching for his phone and turning it on. No notifications, as expected, not even app-initiated ones. Boring. He tossed it back and turned his head to stare at the room, the unfamiliarity of it still engraving itself into his mind. Hell, he had only moved into this stupidly big apartment a week ago, and as he would have preferred a smaller place he could feel more comfortable in, Mori seemed to have different ideas when promising to pay for his living arrangements. Now there were still rooms he hadn’t touched, just adding to the unfamiliarity of it all, and to add to it, his few boxes still remained unmoved by the entry room. He’d get around to it eventually. Maybe he should have just left Mori without a word instead of getting himself stuck in a place like this. He guessed he couldn’t help it, however, since the moment he had heard his lie that he was going to study medicine in Yokohama, he had willingly offered to help out. Well, at least he could save money. That was one pro.
Eventually he managed to pull his feet onto the floor and stand up, bending over for a moment as stars took over his vision, then ambled over to the kitchen to see if he had any old coffee to wake himself up. Nope. And to add to it, the fridge was completely empty besides a sauce packet he had discarded from one of his takeout orders, which meant he actually had to go outside today if he wanted to eat. In this state? No. But his stomach promptly reminded him that he hadn’t eaten dinner last night, and realized that he didn’t want to end up throwing up his stomach’s lining later that day, so he threw one of the jackets he had laying around on and ambled to the door without bothering to wash his face. There was a convenience store he had already familiarized himself with about a five minutes walk away; that would be easy. Just a quick trip and he’d be back. Nothing bad. He opened the door and headed down the stairs towards the street.
The air was sickeningly fresh in contrast to his clouded mind, and he felt like if he stayed out in it any longer that he’d lose himself and get tainted by the sunlight. That, of course, made him walk down the street faster, also not liking the fact that nine am meant there were other people walking about as well and were witnesses to his hungover state. Usually he wouldn’t care, except with his mood that morning, he wished he could avoid human interaction no matter what. On a normal day it wouldn’t matter, but never mess with Dazai when he was hungover with a headache.
He arrived at the store promptly, scanning the isles aimlessly for something that looked sufficient, and settled on some processed bread that would barely last him a day. And yes, the subconscious guilt of not getting more did prod a bit at his mind, so he ended up wandering around a bit longer before completely giving up, hearing the door open and more customers come in, and locating the register so he could avoid having to make eye contact with them. Fortunately, the woman running the counter looked just as hungover as he did, so he walked up with a calm mind to purchase his items. It was then two pairs of footsteps walked up behind him in line and began talking in low, polite voices.
“Classes start Monday, don’t they?” One mourned, his voice sounding young and innocent. The other probably nodded and made a crinkle with the item he was carrying.
“Mmm. We have our math credit together. If you’re just as useless with math as you were in high school, I will refuse to sit with you.”
“Come on,” the first voice lamented, sounding utterly betrayed. “I promise I’ll try. You have issues with abandoning me. It’s a problem.”
“Whatever,” the second dismissed, and the conversation ended there. Dazai was handed his bread, thanked the woman, and turned away, not even glancing at the two boys. College students, then. Man, that only reminded him that his classes started next week as well. Why did they have to have that conversation? Now his brain was reminded of reality and the responsibilty he was about to begin. He wasn’t dreading it, in fact he was quite excited to finally be able to study what he pleased, but something in him was nervous. The fact that he was in Yokohama in the first place made him strangely nervous. He was scared to go outside for the sole reason of turning a corner, meeting eyes with someone, and not knowing what to do. On the other hand, when he did go out, he did it all the time. Every single passerby he analyzed, noticed, and saw. If they wore a hat, he immediately glanced at them. If they had bright colored hair, he would turn his head directly in their direction to see. Half of it was fear. He was fully aware of the terror he felt and the way his heart suddenly increased when he saw someone different. Because it was stupid, but maybe there was a reason besides to escape from Mori that he had returned to Yokohama. Maybe his subconscious had something it was looking for.
However, that didn’t matter at the moment. And thinking on the feelings he had never got him anywhere, so instead he turned his mind back to school and the sudden realization that he did have to do something that day: meet with the counselors for a meeting he had long been procrastinating. All of his courses had been already set up, but apparently they required a mandatory “meeting” just to finalize everything and to get “personal”. Like they could get personal with one student out of a thousand. They probably forgot each one of their faces the moment they left the room. So yes, it was pointless, but he still had to go.
And if the counselors would remember anything about him, it would probably be how haggard he looked. He just hoped they wouldn’t recognize him. Small things go far when the publishers want them to.
——
A day before classes began. A cloudy, Sunday afternoon.
And Dazai was sitting at his desk in his room, staring at a white screen with one sentence typed out on it, his fingers motionless on the keyboard.
Writer's block. A classic. Right before classes as well. He wondered how he’d function once he entered.
No, he had high hopes. He expected—no, knew—that once class began, his motivation would return out of sheer gladness that he was finally learning literature from a good, authentic source. It had been years since he had had a good writing class, the last one being his old tutor’s when he was twelve since his last school had focused on science rather than humanities, so once he stepped foot into it, he was certain he would get it back. But for now, he was slumped. It was strange too—he had had more motivation while he was in the crappy schools than he did now. He had even published an entire book he had written during those years only a few months ago, and so far it was doing splendidly. Of course, however, there had been repercussions, like the fact that he had made the mistake of using his real name, and how Mori wasn’t too happy about the whole publication, but at least it paid, and that was a start. Besides, as long as Mori continued to believe that it was only a side job to get money, and that his true passion lay in medicine, all would be fine. But for now, the completion of that book seemed to have stripped any incentive from him and now left him in this random, foggy valley he couldn’t escape from. Maybe it was the burn out, maybe it was the pressure from the publishers who wanted more from him, or maybe it was the fact that he was back in Yokohama with the nostalgia it was sending him. After all, writing wasn’t the only thing that he couldn’t do, as was probably evident. The boxes still lay untouched in a pile, and his opportunity to join university communities before classes began had remained a suggestion. He didn’t want to do anything. Instead, he chose to lay around soaking in the feeling of the city and trying not to bring back memories. Yes, doing stuff would help distract him, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be productive, and especially didn’t want to make “community”. He hadn’t had a community in years. Why would that change now?
He shut his computer off, slipped out of his seat to a nearby drawer, and took out a pack of cigarettes, leaving the room for the balcony. He didn’t feel like doing anything else that day. Maybe he’d have a drink that night, or maybe go blackout drunk, but definitely not unpack or write. Things were going much more hopelessly than he had imagined. Coming back to Yokohama had seemed like such a liberating thing, and that once he returned, he’d be happy, free, and feel careless. Now things seemed the same as before. He was stuck in his own hole again and was doing nothing. He barely even knew why he had come back. At this point it didn’t matter where he was, everything would be the same, dark, cold life if he refused to do anything about it. He wanted things to be how they were when he was younger, that one, golden year. It felt like a romantic paradise he was scared of thinking about compared to now. If he thought about it, he might ruin it with his current brain. Better to leave it untouched. And smoke the thoughts away.
He suddenly wished it would rain so he wouldn’t have to see anyone’s faces tomorrow.
——
“You’re insanely late today. What on earth is your unemployed ass doing to be late?”
The door of a coffee shop swung close, ringing the little bell a second time, and footsteps crossed the floor to a little table of four, in the process of pausing the conversation to greet the newcomer. The one who had spoken, however, rolled his eyes at him like he was tired of his antics.
“Hey, sorry,” he apologized, sitting down casually. “And I’m not jobless, you know I just got one. What’d I miss, anything interesting?”
Half of them shrugged and went back to sipping their various drinks.
“Nothing much, it’s actually been insanely boring,” one complained, yawning at the perfect timing to prove his point. He shoved his thumb at two of them sitting next to him. “These two have been arguing pointlessly for the past fifteen minutes. They’re stupid.”
“We weren’t arguing, we were discussing!” The white haired one defended himself, frowning defensively.
“We were discussing how stupid your interior design choices are, if that’s what you mean,” the other said, not sparing him a glance and sipping his coffee.
“They’re not stupid, you ar—“
“Alright, Akutagawa, Atsushi, calm down, it’s not that deep,” the ginger who had first spoken interrupted, swearing he felt a headache coming. “We all have better things to worry about than your attempt at living together, so shut up.”
“Right…” Atsushi groaned for the table, everyone simultaneously remembering what happened the next day. University. The bane of their existence. Those who weren’t lazy found it boring, so overall it was a consensual dread.
“Ha, imagine going to college,” the one who had walked in teased, leaning his elbows on the table lazily. “Must be hard not to taste freedom.” The ginger rolled his eyes for a second time and sighed deeply.
“Shut up, Tachi, we all know you’re proud of your decision,” he dismissed, then ran a hand through his hair, circling it back around to support his chin, and looked past him. “I wish everyone was still around. It would make classes so much more fun.”
“Yeah, me too,” Atsushi joined in with a wistful sigh. “But Higuchi went to Tokyo, Kunikida went to some prestigious university nearby, and everyone else is still in high school, so we’re the only ones left. I’m glad we stayed together, though, it would be tough without us.”
“Mmm,” he replied, then paused for a moment with his hand around the coffee mug. College, huh. He barely had any time to turn eighteen before it was right in his face and all the stress with it. Really, moving into his dorm last month had been the most hectic part about it, but now the worry of what to come was present, and he didn’t want to face it. Half of himself barely believed he had actually made it. Before, college had seemed like such a far off, ultimate goal that would come eventually, but the fact that he had actually made it was somehow unreal. He was on his own now. Kouyou was safely settled into her new apartment, the underclassmen were still getting through their last years of high school, and this tiny group of five was all he had left. It wasn’t a bad thing, however. They were his friends, even if one of them was still a bit annoying and bothered him, and they trusted each other to get through this new door together. He felt secure because of it.
They were all he ever needed, and no one from the past could ever suffice.
“Oh by the way, what classes do we have together again?” He asked after a moment, his mind beginning to wander randomly. The group, aside from Tachihara who had gone off to order himself a drink, plainly went into a moment of contemplation before Ranpo spoke up in a bored tone.
“I have humanities with you,” he commented, looking like it was the most miserable thing in the world. Chuuya frowned, and dropped his hand to the table.
“Oh yeah, I forgot you're actually taking classes with me instead of going off to some famous college. I’m honored.”
“Thanks,” he replied, and Chuuya couldn’t tell if he had simply missed the sarcasm or was responding with the same. “It was too much of a bother anyway, so I just stuck with what y'all are doing. It’s a good thing this is so close to good shops. I would’ve died otherwise.”
“Sure,” Chuuya scoffed, and picked up his mug to take another sip. Besides Ranpo, everyone he had known hadn’t really questioned where they would go; they had simply picked the easiest option and gone with it. It hadn’t turned out bad either, as this university ended up offering every major they had wanted, so ultimately it wasn’t a problem. Come to think of it, Ranpo was the only “smart” person he currently knew. Everyone else was either average or straight up dumb. But hadn’t there been someone else besides Kunikida that had blatantly been smarter than him? Something rang a bell. Someone from a while ago, someone he—
Right. Dazai. Dazai had been stupidly smart, even though he had never gone to a real school. He must be going to some famous university in Tokyo by now, or at least one Chuuya wouldn’t even consider trying, but he attempted to dismiss the thought promptly. He didn’t care where Dazai was now. After all, it had been seven years since he had last seen him, and he had decided that he had everything he needed now.
Never in his life would he ever involve himself with a manipulative, idiotic person like that again.
“Hey, I just got an idea,” Tachihara suddenly spoke up, having returned to the table with his coffee and missed the entire conversation. “What’s you guy’s schedules for tomorrow? I wanna meet up for lunch and see how the first day’s goin’. That’d be cool.”
“Not me,” Atsushi lamented, looking downhearted. “I don’t have class until the afternoon, and I’m definitely not going anywhere until then. Tuesday, though, maybe.”
Akutagawa cleared his throat and seemed to agree.
“I won’t have time. Gin has a holiday tomorrow and I have to look after her when I can. My apologies.”
Ranpo tilted his head in his hand and stared up at the ceiling. “If none of you idiots are going then neither will I,” he declared, and Tachiahara sighed, having been completely shot down.
“Chuuya, not even you?” He asked, looking at him desolately. Chuuya tried to offer him a small smile, but it was plainly forced and no one bought into it.
“Sorry, but I doubt it’ll be a good time,” he declined, looking sincere. “I have literature smack dab at eight am that morning, so ima be exhausted. Tuesday sounds good, though, let’s just do that. Sorry, Tachi.”
Ranpo scoffed and stirred his way-too-sugary drink. “Literature nerd.”
“Hah? You’re not one to speak,” he shot back, glaring in his direction.
“Whatever, whatever, it’s fine,” Tachihara intervened, waving his hand assuringly. “Yeah, let’s do Tuesday, that’ll be better. Good luck, everyone, you’re gonna do fine. I, on the other hand, will be chilling at home stress-free.”
“What kind of job do you even have?” Atsushi questioned, his eyebrows upturned.
“It’s an online one,” Chuuya answered for him, fed up with it all, and Tachihara sent him a thumbs up to confirm which just made the white-haired boy look jealous. Akutagawa’s eyes narrowed judgmentally and he gave him a side eye.
“If you had an online job, you’d never change out of your pajamas. Don’t act like you want one.”
“Shut up, I would!” He defended himself, but that just started off another pointless argument, at which point Ranpo looked like he wanted to die. The group soon dissolved after that, everyone wanting time that afternoon to mentally and physically prepare, so home they went, not without a profound amount of good lucks and goodbyes. And so did Chuuya, his hands in his pockets, back to his dorm that was less than ten minutes away.
He had moved in well before the semester was close, directly after Kouyou and him had been forced to sell their old house and move someplace smaller, so not wanting to bother his sister any longer, he had promptly found a place and made it his home. Now he had fully moved in, not a packing box in sight, and had completely familiarized himself with the area, having more free time on his hands than he knew what to do with, and had even obtained a job as a waiter at a restaurant on the same block as the coffee shop they had just visited. The rest of the group had moved into more expensive dorms nearby (which really weren’t that different besides a handful of more trees to make the surroundings more appealing), but rarely stayed there, coming and going between Chuuya’s dorm, the shopping center, and the beach, which was now much closer than it had been before, only a few stations away.
But most importantly, inside Chuuya’s new abode, was his most prized possession.
Yozo.
He arrived home from the coffee shop a bit later than he had intended, noticing a sale for a handful of ingredients he had been wanting to buy and stopping to pick out the best ones, so when he did, the ruckus from inside was already brewing, clearly audible from outside the door. Chuuya wondered if any of the other residents ever heard or questioned the psychotic wailing of his impatient cat, because if they did they either didn’t care or were extremely tolerable of it, somehow ignoring it every morning when Chuuya attempted to sleep in. He wondered if the more expensive dorms had crappy wall insulation like his did. Thinking about it, probably not, and now he questioned if it was on purpose. Every other dorm on campus had a strict no-pet rule, upheld pretty much everywhere, but when he had inquired about this one, apparently exceptions had been made, and he was allowed to keep a cat, just not a dog. It was better than nothing, he had decided, and even though he had wanted a dog with his whole heart, he guessed it was because they didn’t want loud barking and settled for a cat. Ironic, however, because Yozo was the loudest cat he had ever met in his life.
Atsushi used to have a cat in his parents’ home: a sweet, quiet, fluffy, white one that would purr at you if you got within two feet of it. That in itself had really been Chuuya’s only exposure to domestic cats, everyone else owning either dogs or nothing, so even though he promised himself to buy a dog once he moved out, he decided that cats weren’t too bad either. Yozo, on the other hand, was basically a demon sent straight from hell to torture him. Still being a five month old kitten, he would claw at everything in sight (which made Chuuya terrified of what would happen when his claws grew into their mature size), get into any open cabinet, and hide under his bed with his black fur and start crying like he was stuck. Half of the time Chuuya wondered why he continued to keep him. But at the end of the day (after a day full of trying to get him to calm down), he was still a innocent little kitten, and at times when he actually did sleep, Chuuya could convince himself that he would eventually mature and be more normal, causing him a lot less headaches and pains. He was just worried how he would survive for the time being with Chuuya being gone for class. There was no reason for a kitten to be this clingy. It was concerning, to say the least.
Chuuya entered the house expecting one thing: Yozo to come bolting at his legs and climb up him like a tree. And yes, he did just that, but the moment he reached his shirt, Chuuya captured him securely, brought him to the bathroom, and promptly fed him so that he’d shut up for a little while and he could unpack the groceries in peace. Once he did, he wandered over to his couch, found a seat with his laptop, and began working on a mindless sheet his professor had assigned everyone that morning to get to know their writing styles. Yozo found him a minute later and was soon cuddling up by him, meowing periodically as he settled down by his leg and began bathing. Of course, Chuuya soon gave up on the assignment and began mindlessly watching him, letting his thoughts wander as the cat licked its feet. There was nothing left to do to prepare for tomorrow, was there? He would wake up at seven, get ready, and head over. It really was unfair how early the classes were—he had hoped that he could finally sleep in and half an afternoon class like Atsushi instead of being stuck with mandatory high school classes you couldn’t change. What a bother. But other than that, he felt ready. He would show up, sit there, and leave. There was nothing to be stressed about. Unless there were creeps waiting to bother him, he didn’t even have to interact with anyone. He would just begin his first day of college and that was it.
Needless to say, it still felt unreal. Hell, it felt like last week that he was a stupid twelve year old playing on his switch without knowing a thing about the world. Now he was here. Eighteen and facing adulthood. Lacking something that had been promised to him long ago, but he didn’t care about it anymore. He had what he wanted.
He had arrived at his next checkpoint, and it was time to face and complete it.