How About Fem Dazai 15 In This?!

It's late.

Dazai feels a little ashamed, if he were to be honest. How pathetic is it that he's unable to sleep unless in the arms of his coworker? A little pathetic. His eyebrows furrow as he begins to pick the lock to your apartment.

It's late. You're probably asleep.

He's jealous. Yeah; the clenching feeling in his chest is jealousy from your ability to sleep through the nights (a feeling of his that isn't shared towards his well-rested coworkers). You're asleep, and he should be. He will be.

The door clicks quietly, and Dazai doesn't react. How many times has he broken into your apartment? The question is left unanswered as he saunters into the place, making sure to close and lock it behind him.

You're asleep. It's late.

He makes a pit stop by your kitchen, staring blankly into your fridge like he'd do if he lived here. He counts the number of half finished water bottles littering the shelves, dispersed in between random ingredients you don't open and snacks that are dwindling in number.

If Dazai lived here, maybe he could make you dinner sometime. Gather the ingredients to fill your fridge, put a pan on the stove — however people cook, he can't remember. The fridge closes quietly; It's late. You're asleep.

With a final glance towards the sink, taking note of the dirty cutlery delicately balanced around the edges, he makes his way into the hall. Three steps and he'd be outside your door, your bedroom door, where you're asleep.

Dazai pushes away the same thought that keeps appearing in his mind. Of course you're asleep, it's late.

He turns away from your bedroom and finds himself standing in your living room. It's happily lived in - cushions that have lost their fluff, a blanket strewed across the couch haphazardly. His hand runs over it; always the same blanket. Dazai can imagine sitting under this blanket on the couch with you, the couch you two would share, watching some movie on your small tv just across the small room.

If he lived here, he'd make sure to tidy up the living room before you two went to bed. You kept a basket of blankets just next to the tv, and Dazai could easily drape the blanket back into it before following you off to bed. For now, he leaves it; There'd be no trace he was here come morning.

Once again, he finds himself mere steps away from your bedroom door. You live alone, for now, and yet keep the door closed every night. Is it habit? Are you worried some barbarian will break in just to watch you sleep? (Dazai isn't here to watch you, of course; He's here to sleep as well.) If that is what you're worried about, he could always spend the night with you, just to make sure you're safe. Well, spend the whole night with you, rather than breaking in late and sneaking out early.

Dazai turns into the bathroom.

You have the cutest rug next to your shower, one that always makes Dazai smile. A tough persona is applied at the agency, so only he is privy to your cute pink Sanrio bathmat. It's not what he would have expected for you, and that's what makes him smile. Your counter holds an electric toothbrush and has a lot of clutter Dazai wants to sort through. If he lived with you, he could place his toothbrush next to yours and keep your hair care stuff in the cabinet below. Maybe one day you'd let Dazai comb your hair, with a brush or just his fingers.

It's late. You're asleep. The same thought Dazai has been pushing down since he began the walk to your apartment fills his head once more. He's not delusional, no, but what if you weren't asleep? What if you were waiting up, just for him?

His hand touches the doorknob. It's late. You have no reason to think he's coming. The door opens slowly and quietly as he peers in.

You're asleep.

Dazai's chest constricts and he can't help the frown pulling at his lips. Of course you're asleep; He's stupid to get his hopes up. If you were awake anyway, you'd kick him out and probably call the cops. He is trespassing right now, at a time when you're most vulnerable.

Still, Dazai slips into your warm, cream-colored sheets, his hands clasped together under his cheek as he lies on his side. You're so calm, so serene under the dull light of a street lamp just outside the bedroom window. Hesitantly, Dazai's hand moves to brush a strand of hair from your face, the tips of his fingers experimentally tracing your skin.

His eyes flutter shut when you move closer. Were you used to his presence? Dazai likes to think you need him to sleep as much as he needs you. Sure, you could fall asleep without him curled up beside you, but maybe he was soothing nightmares. The thought made him frown. He shouldn't care, he shouldn't be here. His eyebrows furrowed like they had when he first broke in — this is weird. This is illegal, too.

A frustrated puff of air leaves his mouth, his eyes shutting more firmly. Tighter, tighter — why isn't he asleep yet?

He curls more into himself, feeling ashamed and embarrassed and anxious and annoyed and-

Your hand moves from your chest to his, softly resting over his heart. The small smile resides back on Dazai's face as he relaxes, slowly drifting to sleep in your bed.

Light filters in through your sheer curtains, the sun kissing your face as you quickly wake up. The blaring of your alarm was the first thing you'd noticed, rubbing your eyes with one hand as you turned to shut it off. Just a few moments of peace, and then you'd get up....

Those few moments didn't come to pass before you were hit with a boost of energy, sitting up in your empty bed. Of course your bed was empty, no need to emphasize it. You live alone, did you expect someone to be there when you woke up?

thinking about extremely whipped and easily jealous pm dazai with a big crush on reader who keeps talking to chuuya. he assumes this means they have something that he and reader doesn’t have and gets sad about it. he goes to the bar just to vent about it to chuuya who spits his wine everywhere and tells him how stupid be is because y/n likes HIM more than any other person

extremely whipped dazai… anon you’re speaking my language

Dazai had been drinking more than usual, Chuuya had quickly noticed. While the two were quick to claim that they aren’t friends, it was common to see them sitting next to each other after a particularly long day sharing a bottle of wine and venting. Today was no different, the men relaxing in the ginger’s office on his expensive leather chairs, crowding around his desk. The bandaged man poured himself another heavy glass of the bottle Chuuya had been saving for a while, causing him to grumble under his breath.

“I dunno why you’re so angry…”

The short man scoffed at that, deciding to top off his glass as well while he spoke. “You purposely picked the bottle I was savin’,” reddened cheeks give away his slipping sobriety, “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Wasn’t tryna hide it,” Dazai had let out a scoff of his own, chin resting on the hard wood of Chuuya’s work desk. He glared down at the many signed documents, huffing angrily at the signatures of his rival. “You owe me this, at least.”

Chuuya’s eyebrows furrowed pensively. Owed Dazai for what? “I don’t remember makin’ a bet with ya…”

“Not a bet,” Dazai let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen, you owe me.”

“And I’m askin’ for what!” Chuuya’s hat slipped off of his head as he stood up suddenly, the wine in his glass sloshing as he glared down at the usually-taller brunet.

Dazai chugged the rest of his glass. He’d never been a wine-guy, much preferring a nice scotch to Chuuya’s choice of alcohol, so he stuck out his tongue in distaste after the liquid passed his throat. The sight of Dazai’s disgust made Chuuya grit his teeth. If he doesn’t like it, then he should drink something else!

The two were completely plastered. With Chuuya being a lightweight and Dazai finishing off a few bottles on his own, it was destined to happen at some point. Because of their inebriated states, the shorter of the two misheard what Dazai had poorly slurred out after downing his drink. “One more time?” He asked, still unsure what made Dazai so angry with him.

Dazai’s cheeks flushed pink, and not just from the alcohol. How dare this slug make him repeat himself? “You heard me!”

“Did you say— “

“Yes!”

Chuuya’s mouth opened to an understanding o-shape: so he had said your name. “Okay, but, why do I owe you my expensive wines?”

Dazai grabbed the neck of the wine bottle before standing up himself, towering over the ginger. “Whatever! I don’t even wanna be here!”

“I’m not kicking you out, you moron! Just don’t know why you’re actin’ like this!” His hand reached out to grab Dazai’s shoulder, stopping him from leaving.

“You’re pulling them away from me,” he turned to Chuuya with a pout. “You two are always together acting all buddy-buddy. What do you have that I don’t? Why don’t they like me?”

Glass shattered on Chuuya’s nicely wooden office floor, swearing to himself as the wine within the glass splashed up on his shoes and the legs of his nice desk chair. He was too drunk to be embarrassed over dropping his drink, still shocked someone so smart could be so stupid. “D-Dazai, you’re a moron!” He sputters out, jumping away quickly to grab a broom.

“Yeah,” Dazai sits back on his seat with a sad and defeated smile. “I guess I am a moron.” He takes a big swig from the expensive bottle, finishing off the last few drops. The bandaged man’s eyes closed, letting the now empty bottle fall from his hand and onto his lap.

He barely notices Chuuya kneel back down by the desk, gently using a towel to suck up all the wine in between the broken glass pieces. Just as he begins to brush the shards to the side (he’d clean up properly tomorrow), he looked over to see Dazai’s somber look.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Chuuya sighs. “I’m not sayin’ you’re a moron for thinking you have a chance with them. You’re a moron for thinking I do.”

Dazai rolls his eyes. The last thing he wanted was Chuuya’s pity. “Hey,” he grabbed the empty bottle again, shaking it in front of the ginger’s face. “We’re outta wine.”

“We?” He scoffed in reply before continuing. “I’m bein’ serious, Dazai. They’re pretty much in love with you. We talk a lot because they’re nervous you’re gonna figure out their secret. Always tellin’ me about how perceptive and smart you are… Makes me sick, honestly.”

No one knows Dazai as well as Chuuya, and same with the inverse. Dazai knew Chuuya wouldn’t lie about something like this to him, especially after recognizing that he was being vulnerable for a tiny moment. Realiing this, Dazai’s heart fluttered. He turned to look at his rival with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, not saying a word as he silently pleaded for Chuuya to be telling the truth.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that, mackerel. They like you. Dunno why, but it’s true.”

Fumbling with his discarded coat, Dazai stands up abruptly. The wine bottle tumbles towards the floor, causing to Chuuya to panic and quickly catch it. “I need to see them!”

“Sit down, asshole!” He gently puts the empty bottle on his desk, letting out a huff of annoyance. “You’re shitfaced, y’know. Sober up. Talk to ‘em tomorrow.”

Dazai’s heart was beating out of his chest. How could he wait until tomorrow to talk with you? All he wanted in that moment was to hold you close - feel the warmth of your skin, bury his face into the crook of your neck, tell you how much you mean to him and how much you are his…

“Hey, drink some water, ‘kay? Whatever you’re thinking, remember they’re probably asleep right now.”

He groaned in annoyance. What does chibi know, anyway? Chin resting against the wooden desk once more, Dazai’s eyes shut in defeat. “Okay…

“...do they really like me?” He opened one eye for a moment, gazing over once again to see if Chuuya was being honest.

“More than they’ve ever liked anyone, apparently.”

A big grin pulled at his lips once Chuuya spoke, smile barely contained as his non-bandaged eye shut again.

I GOT A SILLY IDEA AND IT WONT LEAVE ME ALONE

IMAGINE LIKE DAZAI AND S/O LIVE TOGETHER AND BOTH WORK AT ADA BUT S/O DOES NOT WANT TO BE LATE LIKE NOT EXACTLY KUNIKIDA SHE WOULD LIKE TO JUST SLEEP AND HATES GOING TO WORK EARLY BUT JUST DOESN'T WANT TO BE LECTURED BY KUNIKIDA AND SHE LIKES TO LIKE WAKE UP EARLY SO SHE HAS TIME SO SHE JUST HAS LIKE AN ALARM 4 HOURS BEFORE THEY SHOULD EVEN LEAVE, JUST FORCING HER EYES OPEN😭😭😭 AND DAZAI IS IS NOT HAVIN IT HOLDING ONTO U IN BED FOR DEAR LIFE AND TRYING TO GET YOU TO GO BACK TO SLEEP😭😭😭😭 AAAAAAARCTKVGRJVKTKVT

He turns off your alarm once you’ve fallen asleep.

The operation is covert, sneakily unwrapping his arms from around you to try and not wake you up. It takes a bit of effort, forcing his mind to let go of the comfort that comes from embracing you, but it’ll be worth it when he’s able to do so for longer when the sun comes up. Slowly, he’ll twist out from underneath the covers and away from the fluffy mattress you occupied, tiptoeing quietly over to your side of the bed.

Dazai slips your phone off of your charger before quickly (and yet still quietly!) fleeing the bedroom you two shared. You weren’t a light sleeper, but if you caught Dazai you’d probably banish him to the couch for the next few nights. Once in the hall, he’d input your password (your birthday, how cute dumb!) and open up your alarm app. Two alarms graced Dazai’s vision, one for nearly four hours before your shift starts and another for 15 minutes before, which is when you two leave for the Agency.

With a grin, he slides the on button to off for the four-hours-before alarm, deciding to benevolently leave the 15-minutes-before alarm on. It was most assuredly out of the goodness of his heart and not because he knew you’d be angry learning he shut off one of the alarms, much less both.

Maneuvering quickly back into the bedroom, he plugs in your phone and sets it back on the nightstand before throwing himself on top of you.

“’Sssamu..?” You murmur, your words slurred from sleep as you shifted beneath him.

Feeling proud after a job well done, Dazai peppers kisses along your cheeks before climbing back under the blankets. “Sorry, go back to sleep. Just am excited to hold you.”

“You were already holding me,” you pout, eyes still shut as sleep starts to take over once more.

The brunet says nothing as he pulls you back into his arms, eyes shutting easily as he thinks about tomorrow morning.

Used to your usual alarm clock, your body wakes up around four hours before naturally. Dazai coaxes you into staying in his arms, mentioning several times that you’ve never forgotten to turn on your alarm before - you must’ve just awoken earlier than normal. But that's fine, you two can just stay in each other’s arms until the actual alarm goes off, right?

It's late.

Dazai feels a little ashamed, if he were to be honest. How pathetic is it that he's unable to sleep unless in the arms of his coworker? A little pathetic. His eyebrows furrow as he begins to pick the lock to your apartment.

It's late. You're probably asleep.

He's jealous. Yeah; the clenching feeling in his chest is jealousy from your ability to sleep through the nights (a feeling of his that isn't shared towards his well-rested coworkers). You're asleep, and he should be. He will be.

The door clicks quietly, and Dazai doesn't react. How many times has he broken into your apartment? The question is left unanswered as he saunters into the place, making sure to close and lock it behind him.

You're asleep. It's late.

He makes a pit stop by your kitchen, staring blankly into your fridge like he'd do if he lived here. He counts the number of half finished water bottles littering the shelves, dispersed in between random ingredients you don't open and snacks that are dwindling in number.

If Dazai lived here, maybe he could make you dinner sometime. Gather the ingredients to fill your fridge, put a pan on the stove — however people cook, he can't remember. The fridge closes quietly; It's late. You're asleep.

With a final glance towards the sink, taking note of the dirty cutlery delicately balanced around the edges, he makes his way into the hall. Three steps and he'd be outside your door, your bedroom door, where you're asleep.

Dazai pushes away the same thought that keeps appearing in his mind. Of course you're asleep, it's late.

He turns away from your bedroom and finds himself standing in your living room. It's happily lived in - cushions that have lost their fluff, a blanket strewed across the couch haphazardly. His hand runs over it; always the same blanket. Dazai can imagine sitting under this blanket on the couch with you, the couch you two would share, watching some movie on your small tv just across the small room.

If he lived here, he'd make sure to tidy up the living room before you two went to bed. You kept a basket of blankets just next to the tv, and Dazai could easily drape the blanket back into it before following you off to bed. For now, he leaves it; There'd be no trace he was here come morning.

Once again, he finds himself mere steps away from your bedroom door. You live alone, for now, and yet keep the door closed every night. Is it habit? Are you worried some barbarian will break in just to watch you sleep? (Dazai isn't here to watch you, of course; He's here to sleep as well.) If that is what you're worried about, he could always spend the night with you, just to make sure you're safe. Well, spend the whole night with you, rather than breaking in late and sneaking out early.

Dazai turns into the bathroom.

You have the cutest rug next to your shower, one that always makes Dazai smile. A tough persona is applied at the agency, so only he is privy to your cute pink Sanrio bathmat. It's not what he would have expected for you, and that's what makes him smile. Your counter holds an electric toothbrush and has a lot of clutter Dazai wants to sort through. If he lived with you, he could place his toothbrush next to yours and keep your hair care stuff in the cabinet below. Maybe one day you'd let Dazai comb your hair, with a brush or just his fingers.

It's late. You're asleep. The same thought Dazai has been pushing down since he began the walk to your apartment fills his head once more. He's not delusional, no, but what if you weren't asleep? What if you were waiting up, just for him?

His hand touches the doorknob. It's late. You have no reason to think he's coming. The door opens slowly and quietly as he peers in.

You're asleep.

Dazai's chest constricts and he can't help the frown pulling at his lips. Of course you're asleep; He's stupid to get his hopes up. If you were awake anyway, you'd kick him out and probably call the cops. He is trespassing right now, at a time when you're most vulnerable.

Still, Dazai slips into your warm, cream-colored sheets, his hands clasped together under his cheek as he lies on his side. You're so calm, so serene under the dull light of a street lamp just outside the bedroom window. Hesitantly, Dazai's hand moves to brush a strand of hair from your face, the tips of his fingers experimentally tracing your skin.

His eyes flutter shut when you move closer. Were you used to his presence? Dazai likes to think you need him to sleep as much as he needs you. Sure, you could fall asleep without him curled up beside you, but maybe he was soothing nightmares. The thought made him frown. He shouldn't care, he shouldn't be here. His eyebrows furrowed like they had when he first broke in — this is weird. This is illegal, too.

A frustrated puff of air leaves his mouth, his eyes shutting more firmly. Tighter, tighter — why isn't he asleep yet?

He curls more into himself, feeling ashamed and embarrassed and anxious and annoyed and-

Your hand moves from your chest to his, softly resting over his heart. The small smile resides back on Dazai's face as he relaxes, slowly drifting to sleep in your bed.

Light filters in through your sheer curtains, the sun kissing your face as you quickly wake up. The blaring of your alarm was the first thing you'd noticed, rubbing your eyes with one hand as you turned to shut it off. Just a few moments of peace, and then you'd get up....

Those few moments didn't come to pass before you were hit with a boost of energy, sitting up in your empty bed. Of course your bed was empty, no need to emphasize it. You live alone, did you expect someone to be there when you woke up?

deer do not you ever EVER apologize for not working on requests 🗣️

get better soon

-🩵

thank uuuu 🩵anon! i'm sleeping a lot and eating a lot of soup 💪🏻 so hopefully ill be back at peak performance soon 🫡

pathetic stalker dazai… SEX. NOW.

hiii anon i don't really write nsfw so the exact terminology is HEAVILY danced around hope thats fine 😭

cw: poorly written pathetic dazai going crazy over the thought of you

mdni PLEASE SLASH SRS im foaming at the mouth

He was so sick, so disgusting... The thought of you coming home early, seeing his current situation and calling him a pervert and a freak just made his cheeks burn brighter, teeth clenched as he continued to inhale your scent. Normally he'd be trailing you to work at this hour, but the idea of your empty apartment was too tantalizing.

Unlocking your apartment door was easy, especially since he's done it before, and resting on the side of the bed opposite where you slept sent his mind into haywire - picturing you sleeping next to him in your thin pajama shorts and loose tank top, imagining as it rode up while you tossed and turned...

Dazai's face was now buried in your pillow, trying not to drool on the cotton casing as high pitched, pathetic whimpers escaped his lips, cold hands bringing him the sensations he'd been craving since he saw you abandon your apartment earlier this morning. He pictured your hands as they made breakfast, lips as they chugged back your caffeine of choice, all of it... even the picture of you wrestling with bed head in the early hours had him moaning softly against your sheets.

Sweat dripping down his forehead, he rolled back over to his the other side of your bed, taking a moment to steady his breathing. With a glance to the mess he just made, he sighed. Cleaning up after was never fun.

beast!dazai is our silly guy but he’s sadder :( i’d like to barge in his office while he’s working to put hairclips in his hair so he will be slightly less sad :)

The large and heavy doors leading to the boss’s office slowly creaked open. Dazai looked up with a harsh glare, about to tell off whoever just entered without knocking.

“Osamu!” You sprinted across the long office, hands clutching a small bag to your chest as your feet thudded against the long, regal carpet decorating his floor.

His glare fell, a smile taking its place as he stood up from his desk, widely spreading his arms out. “Hey— “

All of the air in his lungs is forced out as you run right into him, his arms wrapping around your frame as you both fell to the floor. Giggles emerged from your lips that brought a serene smile to the Port Mafia Boss's face, still holding you to him as you both lie on the ground.

"Okay, okay — get up! I come bearing gifts!"

Dazai chuckles at your words, arms falling lax around your frame so you can squirm out of his hold and stand up. "Gifts, hm?" He follows suit, moving to sit back on his desk chair. 

"Well, not gifts, really. I lied! ..Maybe. Sit down, though,"

"I'm already seated— "

"and get to work!" You set your bag on the corner of his desk, waiting for him to fall back into his paperwork and strategizing.

A sigh pulls from his chest, shoulders slumping as he decides to follow your orders. He'd love to focus all of his attention on you, asking about your day and why you're here so early, what you've had to eat and if anyone was mean on your way up (absolutely not, not after that one guy... what was his name? No one's heard from him since) — but Dazai knew that once you were set on something, there was little he could do to change your mind. You clearly had an agenda with your visit, something nestled into your small bag you didn't want to tell him about just yet.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long to find out.

Small, plastic butterfly clips. Three of them, in differing pastel colors, were clipped into his dark hair. He paused only for a moment before remembering your words and focusing on his work. Next were chunky pink barrettes, followed by a bunny clip resting on the side of his head. You brought out small bows of various patterns and colors, either tied into his hair or clipped in along with the rest.

A few more butterfly clips spilled out of your bag and Dazai could no longer contain the giggle he'd been trying to swallow since you started. "Is this your gift to me? Decorating my hair?"

You pinned a flower clip onto his coat with a playful grin.

"Ah, my mistake. Decorating me."

You nodded and pulled a few colorful paperclips from your bag as well, setting them on his desk. "You work so hard... I just wanted to add some color to your day," you shrug sheepishly. "I was gonna bring some of my cute pens, too, but I thought those might go unused. It's one thing to get all dolled up in private, but I thought you might not want reports written in purple ink."

Dazai knows you put a lot of thought into this, even if you're playing it off like it's no big deal. You wanted to make him happy without going too overboard — something small that wouldn't impede on his work.

His hands grabbed your waist and, in one sudden movement, he stood up and brought you into a hug. No words were shared, just a small moment of affection that would definitely help him get through the day so he could finally come home to you.

yeayy i love when ppl put stuff in my inbox :)) im working thru it! next week is finals week 4 me but after that i am LOCKING IN

does "yandere themes" need a tag? or can yall just fw a little bit of obsession tacked on to the end of my fics . poll

CONTAINS: mentions of a fictitious car crash, the occasional threat of death, gender neutral reader

While some may disagree, nothing is as painful as boredom.

Now more than ever you believed this, seated in the back corner of your classroom, cheek resting in the palm of your left hand. You didn’t even want to take this class; World Music has nothing to do with your major. However, it fulfilled some stupid university credit that everyone needs in order to graduate. Glancing down towards your empty notebook, you grabbed a pen with your free hand.

big drum = big sound

You scrawled the four words down before lazily looking back up at your professor. He had spent the last 20 minutes explaining the difference between the same two drums, and you weren’t excited to listen to the rest of his lecture… So, you didn’t. Your focus shifted from the tall, orange-haired man in the front of your class to the bickering just outside it, head tilting slightly to the side. The walls in the basement of your university’s Fine Arts building were thin, so even though your seat was situated at the other end of the classroom’s closed door, the pattering of footsteps still made its way through. Along with that, you could hear the tick of the clock that was hung up above the teacher’s desk at the front reading 1:27 pm—you still had 23 minutes left of this horribly boring class. What that also meant is that any student walking through the halls must be from a class that was let out exceedingly early.

Only two pairs of footsteps echoed outside the classroom, a pair of bickering voices accompanying them. If a class got out early, surely there would be more—both in terms of footsteps and voices. Maybe two students were arriving to a class early? This far in the semester, it was safe to say this would be a common occurrence if true, however, you had never heard anyone pass by at this time before today. These two weren’t students arriving early to a class, or leaving early from another. Two people wouldn’t be arriving 30 minutes late, at that point they’d skip the class. You put the tip of your pen between your teeth as you thought.

Maybe the pair had been getting out late? The basement of the fine arts building does house just about all of the campus’ art classes, maybe they had a project coming up and decided to stay and work late. No, all of the art classrooms are situated to the left of the basement, these two were coming from the right. Perhaps they were lost kids, visiting colleges for the following year? Maybe professors, bickering over lazy students and assignments they had yet to grade. Or maybe, piggybacking on your earlier idea, the two had come early to work on a project outside of class…

“Are you still with us?” You realized Mr. Patrick had stopped banging his drums when he called out your name. Oops, you zoned out. Your coworkers always warn you that you tend to zero in on one thing and need to work on being more aware of your surroundings. A small smile pulls at your face. Maybe you should drop out of school: you’re learning more from your current part-time job than your stupid World Music class.

“Yes, sorry. Just listening to the difference in the drums.” I’m listening to the muffled conversation happening in the halls, you thought to yourself. The pen you were chewing on a moment earlier was placed next to your notebook.

Your teacher hummed in response. “Is that so? Then maybe you can explain the difference for the rest of your classmates.” Maybe you can explain the need for this class— you held your tongue, choosing to clear your throat instead of being gifted a lecture from your professor.

“I’m willing to try,” your voice was lighthearted and playful as the hand that was holding your head up dropped to cover your suspicious lack of notes. “While both drums are marketed the same and share the same size, the one on the left has a richer, deeper sound when played,” You almost let an embarrassed smile slip as you improvised your explanation. “I would guess that there was a miscalculation during its production, and the left drum is likely a tiny bit bigger than the right, creating said deeper sound.” By the end of your explanation, your cheeks were slightly tinted. While you had coasted through school by bullshitting answers, you truly had no idea if you could get away with this one. Damn those two outside of the class, this wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t been here.

The longer the teacher didn’t respond, the worse your red cheeks got—and your cruel professor remained silent for what felt like a while after your little speech (which, in reality, had only been a few seconds).

“So you had been listening, glad to hear it. Yes, the difference is…” as Mr. Patrick went back to explaining the drums, you let out a sigh of relief, head dropping ever so slightly as your eyes closed. The confidence you had just shown as you gave your answer was an act, one you weren’t sure you could’ve kept up if he had urged you to continue. You couldn’t afford to zone out again: you had to let the strangers outside go.

With newfound determination, you grasped your pen once more and looked back up to your ginger music professor. Paying attention isn’t that hard, you can do this.

At least, that’s what you hoped, until the same strangers that had helped soothe your boredom for a moment stopped just outside the door to your classroom. You clicked your tongue in disdain—it felt as though they were tempting you, telling you you’re so close, just think a little harder! Those assholes—no way would you do that again. You had a feeling Mr. Patrick wouldn’t be as kind if you were caught zoning out for a second time. Besides, it hadn’t even been five minutes. Whoever was bickering outside your classroom could choke for all you cared, as long as they stopped distracting you.

“Fine, then let’s just ask!” was the first full sentence you could make out from the pair before the cheap wooden door on the back left corner of your small white classroom swung open.

This was definitely distracting you.

Glancing over from your place in the back right corner, you finally got to see the people that caused you to anxiously ramble in front of your whole class even if you’d done so correctly and confidently, the assholes you’d end yourself.

Holy shit.

Your eyes widened when you noticed who had burst into your classroom: a bandaged brunet and a bespectacled blond, two of your coworkers. You wondered if you had ever looked away so quickly before this moment. It suddenly made sense, why the bickering seemed so familiar and why you couldn’t pinpoint the reason for the pair’s appearance. They weren’t supposed to be here, and you made sure to scratch a quick fuck you into your notebook so you’d remember this later. After all, if you forgot, how could you make sure to complain to your boss?

“May I help you?” Mr. Patrick was careful to put down the two drums he had been cradling very delicately as he addressed the two men that had barged in.

Feeling embarrassed, you placed your hand flat against your cheek, turning your head down and hoping your face was hidden. You can’t believe these two would pull such a stunt as this, especially the blond. Wasn’t he a teacher at one point? Shouldn’t he know not to interrupt a class?

“We’re sorry to-“ before the aforementioned blond could properly explain the situation, his brunet partner started talking over him.

“I believe you can help us, you see, we’re looking for a student that goes here,” he punctuated the sentence with your full name. Seeing as the teacher had recently said your name to humiliate ask you a question, every student in the class turned to the back right corner, directly to where you sat—or, rather, where you slouched, as you had curled your body in on itself in an attempt to hide.

“Is that so? May I ask why?” You silently cheered, hoping Mr. Patrick would scare these two morons away so you wouldn’t have to deal with all of your peers’ eyes directed towards the safe back corner you resided in.

But of course, nothing was that simple. The tall brunet you had come to occasionally appreciate at work started tearing up, ready to give the performance of a lifetime.

“It’s hard to vocalize,” he started by stuttering. “You see, we came to tell them that their dear sister has…” the man paused briefly as you peaked through your fingers with an amused smile, ready to see how this would play out. “Their sister got into a car crash,” and he burst into tears. Quite the actor, but it’s a good thing you are, too.

You didn’t really have a choice but to play along. What were you supposed to say? ‘No, he’s lying; Please resume your boring ass lecture?’ So, you contorted your face to make it seem like you were about to cry (fake crying was something you had yet to master) and pulled your hands down your face. “She what?” Spinning from your spot, you looked directly at the two.

“We need you to come with us, so we may escort you to the hospital where she is being held.” The blond did not look comfortable with the brunet’s show, and simply walked out of the classroom as he continued.

You’re the worst, you wanted to say. Instead, you stood up, packed your nearly empty notes into your backpack, and followed your blond coworker into the hall.

“You see, sir, they need to visit their sister. If you can excuse their absence this once…”

“Of course, I won’t take any points off; This is an emergency.” You rolled your eyes as you overheard your teacher’s voice. You were supposed to save me, Mr. Patrick.

The tall brunet slipped into a hallway and immediately his eyes dried, a cocky smirk appearing on his face.

“I hope you get into a car accident,” you whisper, swinging a backpack strap over your shoulder as you start following the blond, who now stood at the end of the hallway. He stood impatiently, as was indicated by the tapping of his foot and him checking his watch repeatedly.

“Not the first time I’ve gotten that.”

“I find that extremely easy to believe.”

The two annoyances in the hall were none other than Kunikida Doppo and Dazai Osamu: employees at your part-time job.

AKA: the only people that could make you miss the torturous boredom.