There goes a day | Dazai x m! reader

2.

That name swam in your mind for the past three days.

Mori Ougai.

You didn't know who that was. The name felt important, though.

Yesterday, Yosano had cleared you to go back home, now that the pain had begun to go down and you had stabilized. You didn't really have a house at this point in time, you didn't think, but luckily Dazai had all but insisted that you come stay with him. Just until you could get yourself back on your feet.

So that was how you ended up here, in Dazai's apartment, your back pressed against the corner and your nose buried in your phone.

What else could you really do but stare at the contact with the little red star next to it? You didn't have any messages from them. You hadn't quite grasped how to access your call history, but you had a suspicion that you wouldn't have any calls from him either.

"Who are you texting?" Dazai asked. He was sitting halfway across the room, reading that suicide book of his.

"Hm?" You looked up from your phone, flipping it shut with your chin quickly. "Nobody." You put your phone on the floor next to you and pulled your hoodie tighter around you.

He had washed your blood-stained clothes last night. You had ended up falling asleep in a shirt he lent you. (It smelled nice, okay?)

Dazai laughed. "You sure about that?" he asked, then finally looked up. "You've been staring at that little screen since you woke up."

"Just... confused, I guess."

Dazai hummed in response, then stood and moved to sit next to you. "I'd be concerned if you weren't confused, honestly. You've been through a lot." He was close enough to brush his shoulder to yours.

"I just don't really know what to believe, y'know? Like, I have very clear memories of what happened, but the recording says something different went down, and... I don't know." You shrugged, picking your phone back up and fiddling with it. He smiled gently and ruffled your hair, but didn't say anything. You tensed under his fingers, then after a moment, you relaxed into it.

So you just sat there, with his fingers in your hair, your back to the wall, wearing his clothes. It just felt... right.

"Who is it?" he asked. You blinked before you gathered what he meant.

"Um, my emergency contact," you responded. "I don't know who they are. I don't know any of my contacts. I can't even read most of them."

"Ah. You're not fluent in Japanese, yeah?" he asked, and you cringed a bit.

"Am I that obvious?"

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. "It's sort of endearing that you're trying, though."

You raised an eyebrow at that. "Thank you. I'm not gonna kill myself with you, though, if that's what you're getting at," you said, and he dramatically leaned against you.

"What... no, I would never. Frankly, I'm offended you would even think that," he joked. You pushed him away playfully, and the casual touching felt so natural that you didn't even question why you were doing it.

Over the past few days, the two of you had become pretty good friends, much to Kunikida's dismay.

His eyes darted up to a clock on the wall. "It's almost seven," he commented. "We can get Thai, if you want?"

You nodded.

He stood and crossed to his desk, then dug through the top drawer before producing a takeout menu, already dialing the number onto his phone. He pressed it to his ear and waited for somebody to answer, leaning back against the desk. The two of you accidentally made eye contact, and he gave you an awkward smile.