Chapter 2

It's just one of those dog days

His breathings was laboured, his heart practically beating out of his chest as his mind still hasn't caught up with the fact that he was fine, and that he merely just had a nightmare.

It was after several minutes of staring at the wall, that Dazai finally managed to calm his heart down, as well as his breathing. It was then that he began to think about his dream, his eyes cold as he looked at the ceiling in thought.

It wasn't odd for him to have dreams about his past, he often had them, sometimes every night even, but this particular dream, or should he say memory? Well, this one he hadn't had in a long while. Last time was months ago, after a particularly bloody mission. The mission itself hadn't really been anything out of the ordinary, but he did remember how shaken up he was when he woke up in cold sweat. His breathing laboured, near hyperventilation from a panic attack that was taking a hold of him, pretty much the same way he was feeling now.

Letting out a sigh, he covered his eyes with the back of his wrist, annoyed of himself for having such weakness. It didn't really matter, he really didn't understand why that memory still plagued him, even after all these years. Why that man still had a hold on him, why he-

Realizing where his thoughts were going, anger flared in him, and before he let it take a hold of him he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as he locked the memories firmly behind bars in his head. There was no point in looking at the past, no point in pondering about it or letting it control him.

Shaking his head as he opened his eyes, and slid his arm off his face he -not wanting to think about memory- looked to the side and saw the rumpled and empty bed sheet beside him.

So Chuuya left? And by the looks of it, he left at least an hour ago. Wait, was it even Chuuya he had been with? He frowned and looked into his memories, trying to remember but all he could get were flashes and memories of odd smells and sounds. His frown deepened and he searched deeper but all he could get from that were flashes of sweaty bodies grinding, moaning, kissing… a sharp needle-like pain pierced his brain, the headache -he no doubt got from last night's event- made itself known at full force making him whine.

It felt like his brain was mercilessly being pounded by a hammer. Dazai pressed his hand on his head, trying to alleviate the pain but didn't even do anything, and he let out a sigh. This is the one thing he hated about getting drunk, high -basically wasted overall- the damn hangover he gets the day after, not to mention the lack of memory, especially when he no doubt had mind-blowing sex with somebody but can't even remember any of it.

Seeing as his headache wasn't going away any time now, and seeing as whatever it was he had last night was threatening to come up the wrong way, he slumped down on the bed and flumped his arms down. As soon as his fingers hit the bed sheet, he felt an odd piece of fabric that didn't belong there.

He tilted his head, and his brows furrowed. He took the fabric and brought the cloth up and looked at it, and that's when the memories came back, albeit fragmented.

In between his fingers, he held a red, delicate piece of women lingerie that belonged to some unknown faceless stranger, who no doubt left it behind to either tease him or simply as a token to remember her by. Seeing by how neatly it had been folded, and how it had been placed at the right spot for him to find them with ease, it was probably the later this faceless stranger had in mind when she left her knickers behind.

Dazai let out a bored huff as he lazily flung the thing across the room with little mind, or care. He didn't care to keep some lingerie he got from some faceless stranger he can't even remember if he had a good time with, or just overall had some unsatisfying drunk sex with. Given the small flashes, and the few things he managed to remember, he had taken the woman -who didn't even care that he was underage- to the nearest hotel he could find after she caught his inebriated eyes. After that, he didn't really remember what happened, not that it mattered really, he was already used to the faceless strangers and missing memories he got after a whole night of nearly poisoning himself to death with various substances, which really was the point, but once more it seems he had no luck. And given last night's event, it was no wonder it wasn't Chuuya he had spent his bed with. The redhead had absolutely no taste for getting drunk at some cheap club or bar, only to drag Dazai's drunk self out of there to have some hot drunk sex with. Nah, the redhead was much too sophisticated for such things, and he actually had standards, while Dazai's standards always left him at the door.

Suddenly a loud ringing sound began to reverberate around the room, almost causing him to jump of the bed in fright like a startled cat.

His mind still half asleep, and not quite understanding what was going on, he immediately looked around the room in alarm, reaching for the gun he always left at his bedside, only to come up empty. He looked at the nightstand, and once more remembered he wasn't at his apartment. More confused than worried, he kept looking around the room, still not understanding where the sound was coming from.

The ringing sound was coming from the corner of the bedroom, the loudness of the sound causing his head to pound in protest until he finally realized that it was coming from his phone, his mind still much too groggy.

Seating up, he rummaged through the soiled bed sheets, his hands uncovering layers upon layers of blankets and pillows, as well as his own discarded clothes. It was almost after a few seconds later that he finally found the damn phone, not on the bed of course but across the room inside his pant pocket.

With fumbling hands, he took out the phone from his pants pocket and looked at the number on the screen with squinted, slightly red eyes.

Knowing full well who the number belonged to without needing a caller ID, he pressed the button and put the caller on speaker. His ear was still ringing from last night, and putting the phone on his ear would just make things worse.

"Odasaku!" He sang, his face devoid of a smile or any signs of cheerfulness his voice was expertly faking.

With the phone in hand, he made his way to the small window, and looked out at the city. It was still night time, four fifteen in the morning by the positioning of the moon in the dark sky. The drapes that hung on the window were drawn, allowing moonlight to shine inside the room, and on him revealing his naked body.

He was quite tall for someone his age, but with the large shadow he casted behind him he looked even taller. His hair was long and slightly wavy, and the colour was a dark brown that appeared almost black. As for his build, he wasn't really muscled but he was a little toned after years of having to protect himself in the streets. His appearance wasn't really anything to be jealous of, except for his face to which many –both men and women- thought to be quite handsome, something he used to his advantage. However, apart from his appearance, what really caught the eye were the countless bandages that he usually had wrapped around his body, bandages that were missing. With his usually covered body, his countless scars seemed to glint in the moonlight, revealing them all. His biggest scar, which were from his wrist to his elbow, were burn ones, a scar most would flinch in pity as they could only imagine how much it must have hurt to get them. The other scar he had on the side of his rib, another burn from the past. On the opposite side he had a gunshot wound that had gone from one side of the body, and out the other way. On his neck he had a thin scar, circling his entire neck, a memory of one of his past suicide attempts. Apart from those three scars he had a few others, but they were smaller ones that littered his body. Having them all exposed made him feel weird, but he made no motion to cover them up, he didn't really care much about them he just found the lingering gazes of people annoying which is why he usually had them covered behind bandages.

"Dazai, where are you?" The familiar bored voice of his friend asked from the other side of the phone, hiding some of his concern poorly.

The corner of his lip twitched, almost forming into a smile.

He knew his friend was worried, of course, he'll always pretend like he really wasn't, but in the end, Dazai always knew he was, he wasn't a very good liar after all. He knew very well that his friend would sometimes think, and wonder if he had succeeded in killing himself this time. Of course, he knew he didn't do this all the time but still, it was interesting how he would care enough to worry.

Being part of the mafia meant taking care of oneself and watching one's own back at all times, everyone knew this and everyone knew there wasn't any space for worrying about others, but Oda was always the anomaly wasn't he? The only member in the Port mafia who refuses to kill even the most wretched person, the only one who still had his moral compass intact while he never even had one, to begin with. Because of that, he couldn't really understand why his friend cared so much, while he didn't even care who he killed. Men, woman, innocent people who were at the wrong place at the wrong time, rich, poor, and even children if he had to were all possible victims. The very act of killing anyone whose name was put on his desk was the stuff of nightmares, but that wasn't what really set him apart, anyone in the Port mafia killed whoever they were sent to kill. No, what really set him apart, what really made him into a beast rather than a man was the fact that he killed all those people without feeling anything. He felt no remorse, pain, anger… he didn't even feel joy, or happiness which to him would have been better than feeling nothing at all. Meanwhile, his friend just cared so much that it made him jealous, what a pair they made.

"Well you know, tonight's my night off which means I'm on a journey to find a beautiful woman to commit suicide with! You know the usual." He chirped, and Dazai heard in amusement as Oda sighed in bored exasperation.

Dazai smiled, and walked around the room until his foot hit something, and he looked down at the object. It was a bottle of cheap rum, with still a little bit of alcohol left inside it. Still holding the phone, and barely listening to Oda as he spoke about the dangers of alcohol or something, he grabbed the bottle from the floor and took a large swing of it. His stomach rumbling in protest, really threatening to expel the liquid if he didn't stop abusing it, but Dazai didn't care. Maybe his death will come at the hand of alcohol poisoning after all.

"How drunk are you?" he asked.

"Drunk? I don't know what you're talking about Odasaku! I'm still underage and I wouldn't know anything about such things! I'm just an innocent boy!" he admonished, taking another drink from the bottle, not noticing where he was going.

His feet dragging across the floor, he easily stumbled drunkenly on his shoes that laid haphazardly on the floor, and with a yelp, he fell over a one seater sofa. The bottle fell from his hand and stained the carpet while his head hit the cushion, and the phone fell on his face causing him to yelp once more.

"Dazai, Dazai are you alright?" he heard Oda ask from the other side of the phone, sounding half worried, and half exasperated.

He didn't answer right away, as everything began to spin around him, causing him to close his eyes, waiting for everything to settle down. He was thankful for his strong stomach because he was sure anyone would be vomiting all over the carpet by now.

Giving out a groan, and furrowing his brows in pain, but with a smile on his lips he answered.

"I-I'm aligt, just took a litle stumle," he said, his words slightly slurred this time, giving away his lie that he wasn't drunk, not that Oda didn't know that already.

He reached for the phone and laid it on top of his ear, his head still resting on the cushion, while the rest of his body hung on the backrest of the sofa. This was a comfortable position, and he didn't feel like moving, even though most of his weight was on his head.

For a brief moment, the other side of the line remained silent, and for a second he thought that Oda had hung up, and so his eyes began to close from exhaustion.

When Oda's voice returned, his eyes snapped open wide comically.

"You take it too far Dazai. One day I'm sure I'll get a call to identify your body." His friend muttered quietly, his voice sounding deathly serious and a bit angry, and Dazai couldn't help it.

He didn't really understand why, but his drunk self-thought that what Oda just said was the most amusing joke in history. Dazai stifled a chuckle, only to turn into a laugh only to turn into a fit of laughter. The phone slid off his ear and he turned on the sofa, his back against the cushion while his legs hung over the backrest and his head laid facing upside down on the sofa. His legs moving from side to side, and his hand pressed down on his stomach, the pain from laughing intensifying. His eyes teared up, and his face turned red from exertion, his headache getting worse but he just couldn't stop laughing. Every time he imagined Oda seating somewhere in his apartment holding his phone with his very serious expression on his face, trying to deal with his suicidal friend, a bout of laughter overcame him. The way he took everything so seriously.

When his laughter began to die, and his stomach really couldn't take it anymore, he let out an amused sigh and wiped the tears from his eyes. Leave it to Odasaku to make him laugh, speaking of Odasaku…

He looked at the phone lying beside his head, half expecting his friend to have hung up ages ago, but he found that he was still on the line, probably waiting for Dazai to calm down once more. He should have felt a little guilty that he made his friend stay on the line while he laughed at him for worrying about him no less, but he really couldn't feel anything.

Still holding a bit of respect for his friend, he grabbed the phone and put it on his ear.

"Really? Do you think so Odasaku?! You would even come to identify my body, you're too kind!" he beamed, and from the other side Oda gave out a sigh that sounded both disappointed, and exasperated.

Once more silence, until Dazai's stomach gurgle in both hunger and the content that was threatening to come up.

"I'll come get you. Where are you?" He asked, the sound of keys jingling sounding through the phone, as well as the sound of someone opening a door.

Dazai looked up at the ceiling debating whether he should tell his friend and letting him bring him back to his own comfortable apartment rather than this dingy hotel, but then he realized it didn't really matter either way. Whether he stayed here or went back home it mattered not, just like nothing really mattered, so he might as well save his friend the hassle.

His amused expression turned into one of coldness, and emptiness as he looked up at the ceiling.

"Hey, Odasaku… thanks," he said, looking at the phone and ending the call before his friend could protest or say anything.

For a brief moment, he simply looked at the black screen on his phone, then he just let go of it letting fall to the ground with a deafening thump.

His eyes once more on the ceiling staring at it emptily, his expression the same as he felt inside, the way he always felt. Empty.

Hoped you liked the second chapter, this is technically more of a prologue than a chapter really but oh well. So the next chapter is where the story will really begin, and in this story, I'm going to be going back and forth between past and present a few times, just so everyone knows.

Anyways, I hope I'm writing Dazai's character well because he's such a difficult character to write.

So yea, hope you liked the chapter and see you guys next time.