oneshots // bsd

dazai

you hummed, knocking on the door to mori's office. you heard a gruff call and you entered, handing him the proofread papers. you gave dazai and chuuya warm smile, noticing they seemed to be discussing something important.

"do you need anything else, sir?" you asked.

"no, that will be all, thank you [name]-kun." mori smiled.

"then in that case, can i go on an early lunch break?"

the request made your boss look back up at you, brows slightly arched at the sudden request. "sure."

"you seem to be in a good mood, [name]-chan!" dazai remarked in an amused tone. you grinned at him.

"i've finally figured out what to do for my project!" both dazai and chuuya looked confused but you continued anyway. "by the way, dazai-san, do you have any plans for after work?"

"no, not really. why?"

you beamed at him. "let's grab dinner together!"

dazai gasped, clutching his chest. "my, my, don't tell me you're asking me on a date? my dear [name]-chan i'm honoured!"

chuuya scoffed. "stop being delusional, mackerel."

you quickly scribbled down an address on some scrap paper and handed it to him. "i'll see you there, okay?"

dazai arrived late, not late enough to chastise him but still late. it's not like he went home to change, he was still in his blood-soaked shirt. you pouted as he spewed a half baked apology, taking a seat opposite you. the restaurant you chose was neither too expensive nor too cheap, and it had a wide selection of cuisine. the two of you exchanged pleasantries, discussing office gossip, which was mostly just him complaining about chuuya in his absence.

"so," dazai began with a mouthful of food, "what did you want to see me about?"

"so, so, dazai-san, you know how i'm a psychology student right?" you spoke excitedly, leaning forward in your seat. "and you know how i've been agonising about not having a clue what i'm meant to do for my final project?"

"for some reason i don't like where this is going."

you ignored him. "turns out the perfect thing was right under my nose!" you pointed at dazai with your fork. "let me study you for a few months!"

"absolutely not!" dazai answered and you pouted.

"but dazai-san," you whined, "you're so interesting! you're like ten different traumas and three bad coping mechanisms in a skin suit. not to mention the nature of you work! all in all, interesting."

dazai frowned. "i don't want to be psychoanalysed."

"that's fine!" you assured. "i'm just going to observe you and do some weekly—no biweekly, weekly is too much—catch-ups."

"what's your hypothesis?" you blinked owlishly at him. "if you're going to do a case study, you need a justifiable hypothesis, don't you?"

"how major depressive disorder can positively affect work ethic in criminal organisations."

dazai frowned, setting his cutlery down. "the port mafia will give you a job anyway, you don't need a degree."

"i know but i've already wasted three years studying for one." you took a sip of your drink. "honestly, it's not worth the debt." you began rifling through your bag. "i'll need you to sign some consent forms so i can show the ethics committee. any information you don't want to be included, just let me know. of course i won't put in any personal information like your name, workplace, etcetera."