In the field of dandelions

He meets Fyodor on a cloudy night. It's cold but always cold around there, so it's absolutely ordinary. So is the lack of sun. Fyodor is the only outstanding event that occurs on that day.

Dazai does not bother paying attention to the mindless words of his teacher. He thinks most people become teachers because they like the sound of their own voice. And power. A useless thing to strive for, as power exists best when people are unaware of the fact. Power should be unknown and used to strike cold and fast.

But that's just his opinion. He's still correct, but he's only young, as the Doctor has told him countless times. His fingers strum onto his empty workbook. Everybody else is furiously scribbling down whatever nonsense is being spoken, but Dazai knows better. He is wiser. Intelligence comes at a price though.

Once they are dismissed for the day, Dazai packs his things slowly. The chattering of other students grates against his ears, so much so he wants to take a leap of faith out of the window and splatter onto the icy concrete path. Someone shoves past him. His English textbook falls to the ground, spine upwards. He tries not to think about it.

Dazai's dorm room is always slightly too chilly, so he's had to substitute his short sleeves for oversized woollen jumpers to keep it away. His dorm mate, Chuuya, doesn't seem to even register the frighteningly low temperatures of their room. He tells Dazai it's only him who feels that way, but that is off-topic.

He hopes it snows. It won't, because he's the one wishing for it, but that doesn't matter.

Dazai wants to see the stars, tonight. It's late- far too late for him to be awake, much less outside his dorm. But he ignores the warnings inside his head and slips his shoes on silently. If it's not going to snow, he'll make the most of it. Sometimes people say that he's too cynical.

The hallways are quiet at night. The only sound is his faint breathing and the repeated sound of his steps. Left, right, left, right. Every time he passes a window, the moonlight illuminates his face. He must look like a monster.

Sneaking out is not difficult for Dazai. There is a door that is almost falling off its hinges, with a rusty lock. It's in the abandoned part of the building. He can't stand perfect things; Perfect flowers, perfect bookshelves and perfect relationships. The moon feels less bright outside. It's because it covers everything and the shadows stand out. Inside, it's the complete opposite at night.

There's a spot, an opening, in the high and firm fence that guards the school. One might question if they're trying to keep things out or trap what's inside. It's an area of deformed fence, an escape route that can only fit him. He tried once to get out, took a step out, so he left. The small amount of freedom was enough to satiate his hunger.

Not anymore, though. He's going beyond the fence. As he steps through, there's a certain joyful feeling he hasn't felt in a long while. Certainly, a feeling this school deprives him of. Although he can't say that he feels cheerful at home, either.

There's a clearing that holds a spectacular array of dandelions. The privilege of the beautiful. If they were other forms of weeds, they'd be slashed in an instant. He hopes that at the end of the day, he's given that privilege. Dazai finds himself lying in that meadow of privilege, sinking his expensive clothes into a stained fantasy. One where he is not himself. It's not even a few minutes later that his absolute solitude is disrupted.

"You're in my spot." A voice accuses from the shadow of a lone tree. The figure is blended into the inky black of the night's shadow from head to toe. Dazai isn't scared by the dark. He welcomes it.

"Well, I guess it's mine now. I don't see a sign." He argues ferociously, defending this sacred area like it's his birthplace.

"I didn't think I would need to put one in, for this place is rarely visited." The figure makes his move toward Dazai. The shadow lifts to reveal a single boy, one that could be considered Dazai's age. Gaunt and pale against the moonlight, Dazai thinks he might be an angel.