Dazai's arrival caused a stir amongst his colleagues without even the smallest sound, just that same smug grin whenever mayhem could be had.Kunikida glanced at the brunet haphazardly, watching as he twirled around on his chair, moving back and forth between the desk and working Atsushi.

"At-su-shi- kun ".Dazai chimed in a tune like a commercial jingle; intentionally delaying the poor boy's name; indicating that he wanted something. Much of his work consisted of asking Atsushi yes and no questions on whether a certain object had the ability to kill.

"Can this kill me". While clutching a paperclip.

"Well, I guess if you choke,  there is a possibility of death occurring but no one would let you die as you have us around. The grey-haired boy nods before getting back on with his work.

A range of endless suicidal opportunities were at hand for the whimsical man - why wouldn't he just choose already? , mainly because they are all considered as "but that is too of a painful way to die" in the words of a "profound suicidal enthusiast" with emphasized air quotes.

In the background, a growl erupted from Kunikida. The blondie could never understand why he even attempted to show up to work if he didn't want to be here. It's not like his presence was wanted anyway.He will and always be an enigma toward Kunikida. With intention of never ever wanting to understand a mind like the suicide fanatic. 

The blonde listened to the continuous squeals of the latest trend that intrigued Dazai,  the 'suicide song'. With its tedious lyrics and Dazai's irritating voice was enough to drive a stable person to suicide as he reaching the end of his tether

 "Dazaiii, people have a job for a purpose to earn money for their families while working hard to put food on the table, whereas you are basically paid for messing around". Kunikida voiced, expressing his unwanted opinion.

" Kunikida-Kun don't get so worked up over nothing, see I am doing my work so please refrain from shooting daggers at me". He said, conveniently shuffling blank paper. 

"Plus I can't be using my full contraction on work as a beautiful woman may walk into our office at any moment, demanding to commit an act of double suicide with me".

Loud groans and facepalms echoed throughout the agency as they heard the suicidal freak's "inspirational " talk about how to closer to death or how to accept your fate of impending doom. All turning away with minds shutting out anything the brunet had to say in an instant. As he figured that no one was listening as usual; Chamomile tea came to mind. An essential for keeping calm. Most of the time it would calm him down from his death-induced fantasies

The cupboard door slammed shut as Dazai snatched a chamomile tea from out of Fukuzawa's stash that was always hidden behind blondie's porridge. One was placed in a child-sized cup that would come with matching cutlery if bought at the supermarket. Along with a teaspoon of granulated brown sugar, for fewer calories that wouldn't make any difference whatsoever. 

As the teabag submerges in hot water: nostalgia took him back to the past of his and Chuuya's teamaking days. Full of memories that had been accidentally repressed, memories that he would have liked to hold onto, memories that would help him sleep at night, keeping him out from remembering the cold burdensome ones. 

If Dazai could keep one memory and disregard the rest of childhood, it would be making tea with Chuuya - small but memorable, memorable but soothing. Considering that Hirotsu was the best tea brewer back then, he couldn't really put his finger on it as why he couldn't repeat his prized method. Maybe he needed Chuuya.

All contact was broken from the hatrack from after he had left the Port Mafia four years ago. Of course, he would have liked to stay in touch but that wasn't even a choice or possible. Obviously, who could anticipate that everything will remain the same if you are on opposite teams. Fighting against each every day to protect the beloved city of Yokohama. They would only exchange very few words from time to time but they weren't anodynic or full of forgiveness.Bittersweetness only overstayed it's welcome as they spoke, revoking bad recalls afterwards, making it pointless to stay in touch. 

After a few sips of tea, the once calming memories contorted into something dark, incorporating a supposed flashback of something that didn't happen.Most of the time fear fed on itself but this time it fed on the fragments of the imaginary. Shades of red twired with grimy hues that left a metallic taste on his tongue similar to when have bitten it. Beneath all the blurred colouring was a nondistinctive image;  holding his mind hostage and injecting him to a sight of cruelty. 

Sounds of vivid bullets ricocheting attempted to aim at the batted and bruised betrayer before shooting him in the leg. 

" Coup de grâce sounds beautiful right, anything French is so elegant sounding to the ear so why don't I show you what it means".

It was too much for the suicidal freak;  stomach was ready to erupt with his latest lunch. Tea spilt all over the linoleum as the mug dropped from out of his hands from fear. Sweat soaking his tan skin along with the ringing of bullets vibrating in both of his ears. 

Fingers gripped into the linoleum as he couldn't remove the image out of his head. It lingered like a bad smell that wouldn't vanish. 30 seconds passed.30 minutes passed.An hour had passed, guilt had locked on and started feasting on him like a parasite; paralysing him into a state of what do I do. 

Legs stood up with a will own before dashing out of the kitchen; leaving the glass fragments on the floor."

 Kunikada, I am going out it's important." 

Before Kunikada could stop him, the man had already gone. 

" Ugh, he probably has a date with the river again."  The blonde haired man murmured.

. . . 

Face reddening, sweating dripping. Dazai panicked. Frantically roaming the streets calling the man's name like searching for a lost puppy. Being protective over someone was something he had never felt before.

 Is this love or simply a feign feeling. It had crossed the bandaged freak's mind before but he hadn't had a care in the world for Chuuya so why now. There was simply no answer for that. A head rush of thoughts ambushed Dazai's break. 

Speaking with words of dislike aimed at the brunet. All in purpose of making him feel the delayed guilty of leaving Chuuya behind in the mafia. He knew his thoughts could be ruthless; relying on the past to taunt him. 

 . . .

Before Dazai acknowledged it, he had been inquiring for hours. Talking to numerous individuals. From shoppers to stray dogs. Anyone could be holding information about Chuuya.The night had laid out its twilight blanket. 

People became stars; casting its polar white light all over the city of Yokohama. The memories still ran havoc in the back of his mind; destroying all the happy ones that he had with the hatrack.

" Abandoning him was for the best for his and my sake". The bandaged freak shouted ideally shutting up his thoughts.

Thinking seemed to create more damage than before; creating a pained expression for the public to see; maintaining a distance between themselves and the brunet.

It was like a game of clueless hide and seek.Chuuya hid while Dazai sought him out. But then the redhead had enough and just walked off somewhere without telling. Pain was always the wall between their friendship or could you even call it that. In the end always discarding him like trash. This time is was Dazai turn to be played with and then thrown away.In spite of it all, oppressive thoughts attacked him left, right and centre, along with the common burden of the cold past.

What if he is already hurt? What if he won't listen to me? Why would he listen to me, he hates me? What if I can't find him? What if he has gotten weaker? What if the emotions had already got to him? 

In a grasp of frenzy, fear consumed every cell in Dazai's body; swallowing then injecting with dread before releasing that back into his blood flow. His hay wired brain caused his knees to be gnawed at by weakness that made them give out; leaving him stranded on the ground.

"Stop. Please stop. JUST STOP".  A plea was shouted in strangled screams. 

Tension started in the legs before dramatically ascending up to his brain. A fit of anxiety assaulted his mind at a disturbing rate;  declaring war at the rest of the body.

 Thoughts quickening at full speed while his lungs were being slowly masticated; heating it lightly before igniting heartburn. Oxygen was declined; telling him that people like him don't deserve it. 

Legs squatted as he sat in crouching position attempting to get air from over the surface unlike the air beneath that was inebriated with fear.  He gasped as hard as he could before managing to huff with the phrase 

"Love hurts".

. . . 

Dazai had awakened on the agency's robust couch. Not remembering how he got there.  The couch had no empathy toward the bandaged freak causing him intense back pain. It appears to want to cause its user pain and suffering. 

It was like it could hear all of Dazai's past as he lay on the tormenting couch. As he sunk into the couch it seemed as it was made to torment him digging its springs into his back like giant metal claws wanting to rip out his spine leaving him unable to fulfil his purpose yet. At first glance, it appeared so inviting with its peaks and valleys of crimson red and soft greens.

The stress-riddled man had enough of this so he sat at his desk, unaware of all the delayed reports he had to do. The panicked breath of the once unfazed man became complex suddenly turning into a fit of rage, throwing all the reports up into the air before throwing himself in the corner to cower. Everyone in the agency looked at him puzzled. 

"Dazai, are you okay ". Atsushi said in a shaky tone. 

Dazai turned around with a scared expression.  " I don't know ". Before fainting due to sleep deprivation.

Again he arose from his slumber, only to meet with the same reality that he considered being torture. Committing him to the realisation that this never-ending nightmare that he lived in would never end. All leading up to the day he would witness the horror that will prey upon Nakahara Chuuya.

" This is not feigned love like I thought but some more heartfelt"  

☞Note ☜

 Sentences in Bold are thoughts of whoever's P.O.V it is in

01/10/17 - Edited the way the story was structured, sorted spelling mistakes and edited out unnecessary details. I made it easier to read unlike before where it was in blocks of neverending paragraphs. I have started editing other things in the story but I am not finished with those yet, they will be put in soon like the ending needs to be more dramatic, I need to make Dazai pushier to get what he wants without worrying about the consequences. I need to make him more manipulative and sly plus I want to show in my writing Chuuya changing from himself into what Dazai wants. I have a lot of editing to do so sorry about the constant notifications if there are any. 

08/10/17 - If you don't know what the word coup de grâce it means to put something out of its misery.