A/N: Sorry, guys, I have been really busy as of late. I also just started school again so my updates will not be as often as they were in the past, but I will still be working on it! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Oh, and thanks to all my guest reviewers!


Dazai sat there on his queen-sized bed, staring blankly at the off-white wall across from him. He had been doing the same thing for the past few hours, never once moving from his position, trying to avoid the pain it would inevitably bring. It was all he ever did now when left alone after the betrayal of Masao.

But mostly, it was all he could do through the constant agony Father put him through regularly. And no matter how much he tried, he couldn't focus on anything besides the burning of his skin and broken leg, the gnawing of his stomach, and the ache left in his heart by Masao. He may as well have been a doll, only moving when directed to by Father.

Father would be coming to see him soon. It had only been a few days since his last visit—one surprisingly not involving pain—but Father never liked being away from Dazai for too long. Dazai wasn't sure if this visit would be a social one, like the last one—without pain or suffering of any kind when Father wanted to try and bond with him—or a training visit, which either consisted of strategy training or a more 'hands-on' training with Father and his tools.

He never knew which one it would be but more often than not, it was the hands-on training. He hoped it wasn't but hoping never really got him anywhere so every time it popped up, he tried to squash it down.

Soon, after only an hour more of sitting motionlessly, Dazai heard footsteps outside his door that could only be Father. He stood quickly on his one working leg, leaning heavily on his crutch and waited in muted fear as Father unlatched the many locks on his room door before taking a step inside.

"It's time for your training, Osamu," Father said and Dazai's heart dropped further as Father walked purposefully into his room, coming to stand right in front of the small five-year-old boy, "Are you ready?"

Receiving no answer, Father knelt down in front of Dazai's frozen form, stroking his thumb across Dazai's cheek rhythmically as he stared back with achingly wide, terrified eyes, "I only want to help you. You understand that, don't you, my precious child?" Father asked before wrapping his confining arms around Dazai's thin, fragile shoulders, not waiting for any confirmation.

Dazai immediately flinched at the unwanted and painful touch, heart pounding and dread filling his entire being as he waited for what always came next. Father never held him like this unless he had just hurt him or was planning on hurting him very soon. Even if Father hadn't already told him he was here for Dazai's training, Dazai would have known just from his bone-chilling embrace. Dazai feared what Father had in store for him now as he loosened his hold on him and Dazai caught the dark glint in his crazed eyes. Father pulled away, smiling at him in what on anyone else would have been a comforting manner.

Dazai wasn't sure how much he could take today, not while he still hadn't had a chance to heal after the last training session. His skin was still blistered and raw from the pokers, sticking painfully to his clothing and bandages despite the salve, and his leg had yet to heal from being shattered by the mallet. Even the slightest movement shot screaming agony through his veins, running straight to his bones. He watched in trepidation as Father let go of his shoulders only to grab his hand, dragging him as Dazai limped behind to the lower levels of the Port Mafia.

Once there, Father lead him into a room he had never been in before. It was a small, closed off room with no windows, cobblestone floors and walls, and the only light coming from the door they entered through. In the center of the small room was an even smaller cage, barely big enough to fit a child Dazai's size. Looking at the cage, Dazai instantly knew it was meant for him.

Father's hand tightened around Dazai's when he had paused to examine the room and he pulled Dazai until he stood right in front of the cage. Father let go of Dazai and knelt down to unlock the metal cage. Then he turned back to Dazai, wretched smile still on his aging face.

"This will be your training for now," Father stated as he started undoing Dazai's shirt and bandages, dropping them onto the floor as he went.

Dazai winced at the sharp pulling on his damaged flesh as it clung to the fabric but didn't struggle while Father continued to unwrap his bandages. He knew better than that by now. He couldn't help the shiver as the cold air made contact with his mutilated skin and he felt extremely vulnerable as the bandages slowly came off, exposing all his wounds.

Once Father had gotten the last of the bandages off, he just stared at Dazai for a moment, admiring his handiwork with an adoring smile. Looking up from red, blistering wounds and protruding ribs into Dazai's glistening chocolate orbs, Father cooed, "Are you ready, my dear child?"

Father put his arm around Dazai's raw shoulders and directed him to the opening of the cage, taking his crutch in the process. Dazai looked at the small enclosure, wondering if even he could fit in within it.

"Go on, Osamu, get in," Father cajoled as if he was a stubborn child who wouldn't take his medicine.

Dazai had no idea what Father would do to him once he got in that cage. He didn't want to go in there but he feared what else Father would come up with to take its place. He got on his knees, careful to keep pressure off his broken left leg and crawled into the metal crate. Once inside, he turned so he sat on the iron floor and pulled his legs in as close to his chest as he possibly could without them touching.

"You have to pull in more than that if you're going to fit, precious," Father voiced before pushing Dazai's legs farther into the cage, causing his scarred back to press painfully into the bars behind him.

Pain blazed through Dazai's frame and he didn't notice Father closing the door until it, too, pressed into the skin of his legs. He gasped from the shock of it and tried to pull his injured leg away from the bars. Dazai turned teary eyes up to look at Father, waiting for what was next, but Father only walked towards the door.

"You will stay here until I come back for you," Father told him without looking back and Dazai blinked in confusion at his retreating frame.

"That's... all?" Dazai asked with hesitant hope sounding in his voice.

Father reached the door before he finally turned to face Dazai. His dark silhouette smiled back at him eerily as he said, "That's all."

And Dazai was immersed in total darkness.


At first, Dazai was relieved. Father wasn't going to hurt him today. But as minutes turned into hours and hours turned into days, time seemed to mesh together until Dazai could no longer tell how long he had remained in the dark, cramped enclosure. He grew more and more afraid until this fear was all he could remember.

Complete darkness permeated the room around Dazai, not even a hint of light visible within its confines. He lifted his hand, holding it shakily in front of his face but still, he couldn't see it at all. His eyes were useless in the pitch black room and the nothingness threatened to swallow him whole.

As though the dark wasn't bad enough, the small room was surrounded by an oppressive silence. No sound from the outside world made it to Dazai, even as he strained his ears for just the slightest of noises. Dazai couldn't hear anything besides the rapid hammering of his own heart through his ears and his rasping, erratic breathes. He tried calling out, hoping someone would hear him—save him from the dark, soundless room—but not even an echo made it through the thick blackness.

It was so cold here.

No warmth could be found in the remaining layer of clothing and bandages on his lower body and, even as tightly curled up as he was, none of his body heat seemed to make a difference. It was as though the darkness sucked the very heat from his body, leaving him shaking, teeth chattering, and desperate for warmth.

It wasn't long before the darkness and the silence started playing tricks on him. He started hearing things that weren't there, seeing things that couldn't be there in the darkness, and it shattered his already fragile psyche. The voice he heard and the person he saw haunted his dreams when exhaustion forced him to sleep.

Masao Horiki stood in front of him with a taunting sneer on his deceptively kind face, somehow completely visible within the encompassing darkness. He crouched down, tilting his head in mocking concern, asking, "Did you really think I cared about you? That I loved you?"

He started laughing, long and cruel and ugly.

"I can't believe it! How could you ever think I would love a disgusting monster like you?!" he laughed again, "Oh, it was soo much fun, making you believe in a lie. I just loved watching how it tore you apart when Shimazaki revealed it was all part of his games. The look on your face! Oh, it was priceless!"

His grin as he looked at Dazai grew impossibly wide, splitting his face in half, "You are such a fool."

And then he faded away back into the darkness, leaving Dazai sobbing uncontrollably as he tightened his damaged arms' hold on his legs.

What felt like seconds—but may have actually been hours—passed before another vision of Masao showed up. This time, the image of his caretaker had a bloody bullet wound seeping down from the middle of his forehead. His expression looked agonized, full of crippling pain and suffering as blood dripped down his face, hitting the floor with a loud pat.

It dripped and dripped, creating an ever-growing crimson puddle on the cobblestone floor. Dazai watched it fall in horror, unable to take his eyes off of the man he thought loved him for so long.

The broken figure stared sorrowfully at Dazai before rasping brokenly, "Why did you let this happen to me? Didn't you love me, Dazai?"

The words came out slurred and mushed together as blood leaked into Masao's mouth before leaking out again. But even through the muddled words, Dazai understood every one of them and his throat constricted painfully as they continued to flow, stabbing relentlessly into his already shattered heart.

"You said you loved me, but you were pretending just like me, weren't you? Something like you isn't capable of real love. I knew it all along. I could see it in your cold, empty eyes."

Masao suddenly appeared behind Dazai, the blood from his mouth dripping down onto Dazai's shoulder as he whispered poison into his small ear, "You are a monster. An abomination. You cause destruction and pain wherever you go. And you know what? The only person who could love such a horrible creature like you is Shimazaki and you deserve everything he does to you simply because you exist."

And just like the first illusion, this one vanished with only Dazai's screams as evidence it was ever there in the first place.


Throughout the rest of Dazai's isolation, specters would come and go, taunting and tormenting him. Every time he thought they had finally left him alone, another would appear in its place. They repeated the same thing over and over again, accusing him of being a monster. Every attempt he made to sleep was interrupted by their ear-splitting screams until Dazai eventually stopped trying.

All he could do was wail and press his shaking hands over his ears, trying desperately to drown out the voices. For the first time in his life, Dazai wanted his father to come and get him.

Just when Dazai was certain he would go completely mad, the door creaked open, shining the first light in days over the shaking, fragile boy.

It was Father.

He had come back for Dazai. A fresh set of tears spilled down his young face at the relief of seeing the man who had put him in here in the first place but, at the moment, Dazai didn't care about that. He was simply grateful Father was here now.

He watched Father approach through tear-filled eyes and waited—hoped—for Father to let him out. Soon, Father crouched in front of his tiny cage and it felt like it took forever for him to unlock and open the door. Once he pulled the door completely open, Father spread his arms for a hug.

Dazai didn't hesitate to fall into them, latching on desperately as his cries continued to escalate.

Father held him for a moment more before finally speaking and Dazai thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

"You know I love you, don't you, Osamu?" Father whispered in Dazai's ear as he trembled in his arms, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

Dazai's small arms wrapped tighter around Father's neck, clinging tightly to him for comfort and savoring the warmth of his body heat, the sound of his rough voice, the gentleness of his touch, and the light coming in through the door after being in the cold, dark, soundless room for so long. Dazai had never been so happy to see Father before and he hoped he would never let him go again. He preferred even the pain of Father's torture than what he had just experienced. Dazai sobbed and sobbed into Father's shoulder, leaning into an embrace he normally shied away from for the comfort and safety it now provided.

This time, Dazai believed it when Father told him he loved him. He desperately clung to the idea that Father really was doing this for his own good. That he really was just trying to help and that this pain—both physical and psychological—wasn't in vain. He didn't think he could stand it any longer, otherwise.

Through his endless tears and aching, heaving sobs, Dazai cried back, "I love you, too, Father."

He hoped it would be enough to stop Father from putting him back in the dark, cramped cage again.

He didn't see his Father's smile, devious and self-satisfied, as he lifted him up and took him away from that horrible room.


Dazai awoke with a barely choked off scream, not loud enough to be heard outside of his own room. His breath came out in heaves, shuddering his chest violently as he tried to calm himself down.

It was just a dream. He had to remember it was just a dream and he wasn't really still in that cramped cage. That had been years ago and definitely was. Not. Now.

The words Dazai spoke to himself appeared to be working until he blinked and realized his eyes had been open the entire time. It was so dark, it almost didn't make a difference if he had his eyes opened or closed and suddenly, Dazai couldn't remember where he was. Maybe he hadn't been taken out of that dark room after all and he was still waiting for Father to come get him.

Dazai's heart thundered erratically in his chest and his throat constricted painfully, leaving him struggling for air.

Had everything just been his imagination? Had he really just made up a whole life for himself outside of this torment? But no, everything had seemed so real. He couldn't have made up all those people, could he?

He tried to think through the panic, sort out what was real and what was not but it was difficult through his lightheadedness and screaming lungs in need of oxygen. Dazai gripped his chest in an attempt to ease the pain and realized there were no bars, nothing constraining him like in his memories. He could move and if he could move, he wasn't trapped and if he wasn't trapped...

He sucked in a lungful of air, recognition coming to him, and promptly choked on it. Dazai's breaths came out sporadically as his body tried to make up for lost air.

It had taken him longer than it should have to remember where he was but even when he finally did, the fear didn't abate and Dazai couldn't even his breathing out. It was too dark, making it impossible for him to calm down.

Light.

He needed light.

Dazai turned painfully slowly onto his stomach, trying to get his body to work normally through its refusal to breathe in more than short gasps. Once there, he spotted the dark outline of his floor lamp through the limited light he now noticed coming in through the window. It was a few feet away and Dazai tried to grab it but it was just out of his reach.

Struggling to get his limbs working correctly, Dazai started a slow half-crawl towards the lamp. His vision had blurred around the edges by the time he reached the light source and it took a few clumsy tries before he was able to turn it on. As soon as the room was illuminated, Dazai found his breath.

Still clutching the lamp, Dazai closed his eyes and placed his weary head against the cool metal, bringing in slow breaths one at a time. He hadn't noticed there was another presence in the room until he heard the shifting of fabric. His head snapped to just right of the lamp he held, eyes focusing on the figure hidden in the shadows. As he watched, the figure in the shadows moved onto his knees and Dazai saw a hand coming towards him.

Reacting faster than he thought his near hypoxic state would allow, Dazai slammed himself against the wall right next to the window, all the while cursing himself for not having a gun anymore. The figure paused, not moving any closer, but also not lowering its hovering hand. Dazai watched the figure and, as he stared at its piercing blue eyes, he couldn't help but feel he should recognize them. Framing those paralyzing cerulean eyes was flaming red hair, reminiscent of a burning sunset.

The longer he started, the more he felt the figure was missing something... constant. Something always on its person. Usually there containing some of the wild blaze exuding from its vivid red hair.

Dazai narrowed his chestnut eyes, trying to piece together how he should know this figure but it just would not come to his unusually muddled mind. As he stared, Dazai noticed the figure's lips moving but he could not hear what they were saying over the roaring in his ears. The deafening sound began to die down with the calming of his heart and the figure's words started making it through to him.

"-thing's okay, Dazai. You know me. We're in your apartment with the Agency. You're safe here."

And suddenly Dazai realized he knew the figure. It was-

"Chuuya?" Dazai croaked, throat dry after his frantic breaths.

"Yeah, " Chuuya looked considerably relieved at the sound of Dazai's voice and he lowered his arm from its raised position, "it's me... You okay?"

Rather than answering Chuuya's hesitant question and missing the worry exuding from his azure eyes, Dazai simply blinked at him in confusion, "What are you doing here Chuuya?"

Any relief Chuuya felt at Dazai's acknowledgment evaporated and he crinkled his brow in increasing concern, "You... don't remember?"

Dazai blinked again and thought back to the night before. It soon came rushing back to him.

"Oh, " he said, covering his face in shame at the memory.

Silence fell for a few minutes before Chuuya spoke up again.

"You had a nightmare."

It wasn't a question so much as an accusation, daring Dazai to deny it when the evidence was right there in front of him. Dazai removed his face from his hand, looking up to see Chuuya glaring at him with calculating blue eyes.

"...What?" Dazai said dumbly, reeling from the abrupt change in topic and wondering if he had heard right.

"You had a nightmare," the words were repeated vehemently, angry at the perceived deflection, "and you are going to tell me what it was about."

Dazai sighed heavily before stretching out from his cramped position, loosely folding his legs instead. He knew it was unlikely but he had hoped Chuuya wouldn't ask about that, especially when it was still so fresh on his mind. Of course, Chuuya would want answers now with how severely Dazai reacted after the nightmare. Dazai once again wondered why—no, how—Chuuya could care so much about something as despicable as him.

Dazai looked out the still dark window as a way to avoid Chuuya's gaze, "It's still dark out, Chuuya. Let's do this in the morning."

"You know as well as I do that won't happen! You'll pretend nothing happened and push it aside like you always do!"

"And what's wrong with that?" Dazai snapped, turning his own glare unto Chuuya as he continued to press the subject, "Why can't you just leave it alone?"

"Because you looked terrified," Chuuya hissed back as he leaned forward, now only a couple feet away from Dazai "and I have never seen you so scared in my life. I've never even seen you slightly afraid before. And then there you were, in your own room, so terrified out of your mind you didn't even know where you were. That's something you need to talk about and I am not leaving until you do."

Chuuya paused, eyes still blazing as he waited for Dazai's answer. Quiet filled the room while Dazai thought of what to say to that. He would have just shot out a snarky response like he usually did but something about Chuuya's appearance stopped him. Chuuya looked... haggard. More so than Dazai had ever seen him, even after using corruption.

His usually pristine clothes bore deep wrinkles that spoke of restless anxious movement. Both his jacket and coat were conspicuously missing from his frame. Looking around, Dazai spotted them a few feet from the door, tossed carelessly onto his floor in a messy pile. The hat Chuuya usually so proudly wore on his head was nowhere to be seen, lost some time between arriving at Dazai's apartment to the current situation. It somehow felt wrong for Chuuya not to be wearing it now, when Dazai could easily read his expressions and see the worry and anger and concern so clearly written on his face. Dark circles formed under his eyes, probably from staying up to watch over Dazai throughout the night. Even his hair was a mess and if Dazai had to guess, he would say Chuuya had been running his hands through it continuously in anxiety for it to be in the state it was now.

A heavy sensation suddenly formed in Dazai's heart and throat, and he couldn't bring himself to argue with Chuuya any longer.

"It was about Father," Dazai whispered woodenly, not looking at Chuuya as the words left his mouth and missing the surprise on his face, "I was five and he locked me in a dark room for... days, maybe a week, I don't know. The entire time I was there, I wished he would come back. I begged for him to come back. When he finally did come for me, I was so grateful, I didn't even care he was the one who put me there in the first place. He hugged me, and I clung to him."

Dazai paused, trying to get moisture back in his mouth before reluctantly continuing, "I always hated it when he hugged me because it meant pain, but at that moment, I didn't care if he hurt me again. I wanted him to hold me and never let go. And when he told me he loved me, I believed it. I told him I loved him back, and I did. He hurt me in so many ways and I loved him."

Dazai ended derisively and didn't look up, instead opting to study his fingers, wondering how they remained so unscarred when the rest of him had not been so lucky.

He didn't look up as Chuuya shifted his position or when the mafioso suddenly sat directly in front of him. For a minute, Dazai worried Chuuya would try hugging him again, but he only put his hand on his shoulder. Dazai still flinched away from the touch, but it wasn't as bad as a hug and so he didn't shrug him off.

He looked up at Chuuya when it became apparent he wouldn't say anything without some sort of acknowledgment from Dazai and when he did, he wished he hadn't. Chuuya's face was a storm of concern, sorrow, and grief as he looked at him. Dazai didn't know what to do. In the past few days, he had seen this expression over and over on the faces of everyone he knew and still, he had no idea how to get rid of it or even how to react. He was a deer caught in headlights and for once, he wanted someone to tell him what to do. How to fix this.

Dazai was tired of breaking everything.

Chuuya wasn't supposed to care. Not caring kept him safe. No one was supposed to care and yet they did. And Dazai was sorry he had somehow tricked all these wonderful people into caring about a monster.

Dazai's self-depreciating thoughts abruptly scattered as Chuuya headbutted him. Hard.

Dazai dropped to the floor, clutching his face and hissing in pain while he reeled from the unexpected attack. He heard Chuuya heave a sigh off to the side before his voice floated to him.

"You're a real idiot, Dazai," Chuuya said softly with a tone of voice contradicting his earlier violence, "You're thinking about something unnecessary again, aren't you?"

When Dazai dared to look up at Chuuya from the floor, he found his expression hadn't changed. Instead, it seemed to grow sadder than before.

"None of that was your fault. It was cruel of him to do that to you. It was sick and he used it to make you reliant on him. You ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?"

The blank expression Chuuya received in response answered that question quite clearly for the mafioso.

"It's when a victim of abuse develops emotional attachments to their abuser."

"I wasn't abused."

A vein twitched in Chuuya's forehead at the denial and he watched as the brunette finally sat up from his crumpled position, "The fact that you are even saying that proves my point. You were definitely abused."

"It wasn't abuse," Dazai denied again, seemingly oblivious to Chuuya's rising temper.

"If it wasn't abuse, then what the hell do you call it, huh? 'Cause I don't see how it could be anything else unless you'd rather I call it torture. It certainly was that as well."

Chuuya was trying to keep his temper under control—he had yelled enough at Dazai as it was—but he didn't think he could contain his rage if Dazai continued to defend that monster.

"Abuse implies it was undeserved and you know as well as I do I deserved it more than anyone."

Chuuya was shocked dumb. When what Dazai said fully registered in Chuuya's mind, he looked desperately into Dazai's eyes for any sign he did not actually believe any of that. All hope vanished, however, when he saw the firm conviction within his hazelnut gaze. Dazai truly thought he deserved the cruelty his father inflicted on him. Nothing he said yesterday had made it through Dazai's thick skull and Chuuya wasn't sure if it ever would.

But that wouldn't stop him from trying until it did.

The fury Chuuya had been pushing down came roaring to the surface all at once. Fury was the only way he knew how to handle situations like this and he just hoped it wouldn't make everything worse. He grabbed the younger man by the collar, dragging him up until they were eye to eye, "Don't. Ever. Say that again. You hear me? It isn't true. Why can't you understand that?"

Dazai gave him a look of such glaring incomprehension and disbelief Chuuya couldn't look at him anymore. He abruptly let go of his collar, shoving him in the process and turned away from him, pacing. He ran his hands through his hair—it was becoming a habit at this point—and unsuccessfully tried to breathe through his frustration. Dazai was so freakin' messed up, Chuuya wondered if he even knew how normal relationships were supposed to work.

Dumb question, of course, he didn't. Just look at how things went with Akutagawa, and that was toned down compared to what Dazai himself went through. Chuuya saw that Dazai now understood how he treated Akutagawa was wrong by how he treated Atsushi in comparison but, at the time, Dazai thought cruelty was the only way he could connect with people. He seemed to be trying to make up for it now but try as he might it would never completely repair the damage he did to Akutagawa. Just like Dazai hadn't healed from his father and probably never would.

Chuuya stopped his pacing and wondered if that was the reason Dazai had been so nasty with him. Had he been trying to connect in some twisted, screwed up way? Perhaps Oda was the only one who saw Dazai's clumsy attempts for what they were and that was how he could wedge his way into the Demon Prodigy's frozen, underdeveloped heart.

Dazai spoke up from his slumped position against the wall, drawing Chuuya's attention back to him, "I don't understand why you are so upset about all of this. What happened to me is no worse than what Atsushi went through in his orphanage or what you suffered as a science experiment."

Chuuya whirled to face Dazai, glaring viscously at Dazai as he exploded with rage, "Yes, it was! You were mercilessly tortured by your father for years! I don't even remember anything from my time in the lab! How can you even compare the two?! They are nothing alike!"

Chuuya was going to mention how he was sure Atsushi, as terrible as his life may have been, couldn't have been treated nearly as deplorably as Dazai himself, but Dazai's soft voice stopped him before he got the words out.

"Just because you don't remember it, it doesn't mean it didn't hurt or affect you."

Chuuya stopped short and quickly deflated with a sigh as he dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor, hands resting on his knees and face to the floor.

"No, it doesn't," he said, all too aware of how those experiments affected him, leaving him with a power he could not control and how it ravaged his body with every use. After a moment, he looked back up at Dazai with searching eyes, "Tell me Dazai, do you think Atsushi and I deserved what happened to us?"

Dazai stared at him like he had grown two heads and looked deeply insulted by the question, "Of course I don't. Is that what you think?"

Chuuya saw in Dazai's eyes how horrified he was that Chuuya thought that of him and the mafioso was quick to deny it.

"No, it was just a question, Dazai. I'm just wondering how you can think you deserved it when you said yourself that we didn't. Where's the difference there? What makes you deserve it when we didn't?"

"You're not a monster."

"And you are?" He gently asked, trying to understand Dazai's reasoning and catch his eyes.

"Yes," the brunette whispered, refusing to meet Chuuya's gaze as he fidgeted with his fingers.

"Why?"

"You know why," Dazai snapped, finally looking up and Chuuya saw the hollowness within his dull brown orbs, "You know better than anyone else why."

The redhead shook his head, his hair falling over his eyes, "You weren't always the Demon Prodigy. You didn't even get that title until you were fifteen. Before that, you were just a kid in an impossible situation with no way to defend himself. And that wasn't fair. You didn't. Deserve it."

Dazai dropped his gaze to his lap again. Chuuya leaned forward and adamantly repeated, "You didn't."

Dazai didn't acknowledge his statement and just continued to stare unseeingly into space. Chuuya grew sad as he watched Dazai, who was usually so smart and clever and confident, unable to understand how he was treated wasn't somehow his fault.

This time, when Dazai asked for an out, Chuuya didn't deny him.

"Can I go back to bed now?" The brunette asked blankly.

Chuuya almost flinched at the lifeless tone and hunched posture but answered anyway, listlessly, "Yeah."

As Chuuya got up to move back to his earlier position across the room, Dazai's tenor voice followed him, "There's an extra futon in the closet as well as the yutakas."

Chuuya looked back down at him in surprise but Dazai only curled further into himself. Chuuya didn't pursue the matter. He opened the closet and remove the futon and two yutakas, tossing one to Dazai. He set up his futon next to Dazai's, keeping his back turned as they both changed into their yutakas.

Without saying a word, Chuuya settled down into his borrowed futon, back turned towards Dazai as he got into his own. He didn't comment when Dazai left the lamp on.


A/N: As always, please tell me what you think in the comments. How did it flow? Is there anything I need to fix? What did you like or dislike? Anything at all! I'll see you all next time!