|~Bitter Brew~|

2. I prefer my coffee bitter thanks.

(WOAH NEW CHAPTER SO SOON?! hell yes i'm on my writing grind rn) TW'S: Mentions of su*cide and SH + Light angst!) Also BOOM I'm back projecting onto every goddamn character in this fanfic :')
Also For Clarification: "~" is used in a Teasing, Mocking or playful Manner! Not used as a flirty way cause i find that Cringe Ngl😍

Osamu Dazai sat in his swivel chair in the corner of his small apartment. The walls were a deep grey, with large oak planks lining the floorboards. A warm, bright light shone overhead, reflecting softly onto the brunette's glasses as he looked down upon his leather notebook, held lightly in the palm of his slim hand. He swings back and forth on his chair, the tip of the pen pressed lightly to the taller man's lips as he is deep in thought.

He had been seated there in his chair for just over two hours now. Constantly ripping out pages of his beloved notebook, ink splotches and scribbles littered the pages and occasionally his hands. Letting out a deep sigh, he dropped the notebook and placed his head in his hands, his fingers running softly through his dark hair. Taking off his glasses, he stands up, rubbing his eyes. Dazai studies literature in university, specifically Poetry. He had always been intrigued by the art of literature, and how beautiful poetry sounded when people reeled off the beautiful rhymes from their tongues. Poetry always seemed so freeing, so easy to just place your emotions in the hands of literature and rhyme.

This was not the case.

Dazai had been sitting in his chair for the past two hours desperately trying to write a poem. It's not like he hadn't wrote one before, he had wrote many in his past time. He usually could scavenger the depths of his brain for something to write about, but tonight was different.

He had to write a poem for his lecturer. I guess it could be seen as a small project Dazai had to finish by the end of tomorrow night, But here the brunette sat in his dormitory, not a single word etched upon his notebook now strewn across the oak floors.

Of course, The taller man knew what he wanted to write about. Dazai had experienced many bad relationships with people the past few years. Actually, Dazai had only once been in a relationship with someone he had believed he 'loved'. The reasoning behind this is the brunette had always been truly lonely, to the point where any time a person had confessed feelings to him, he couldn't say no. He believed that if he treated them well enough, he would eventually 'learn to love them.' This was quickly proven to be false after the taller man had never managed to reciprocate the love others felt for him.

One man in particular, had never loved Dazai, he just loved the fact they were in a relationship, and how Osamu would sacrifice everything for him, with nothing in return. In all honesty, Dazai didn't necessarily love the man either, more so he had gaslit himself into believing such. Pathetic, I know.

The brunette glances around his room, thinking deeply about how he could incorporate this story into soft-spoken rhymes for his project. He really wanted to accomplish writing this poem. He wanted to prove he could truly write from his heart, and prove to his lecturer that he wasn't just some person who skipped class and didn't care about the beautiful topic of literature.

With a sudden rush of ideas, The brunette jumped out of his chair and walked over to his notebook, the leather cover lay open on the oak floors. Bending down, he picked up the notebook and brought it over to his small desk situated to the left of his bed. Placing the notebook softly on the wooden desk, he brought his chair over, positioning it towards the desk and seating himself on it. Dazai turned to grab his pen nearest to him, dipping the tip in a small ink container on his desk.

Sure, he could just use a normal pen, but where's the fun in that? It always felt so much more magical to write with an ink quill, like he was an old writer from many, many years ago.