Unravel Me

3: Playing With Fire

Dazai was prone to boredom.

This had always gotten him into trouble when he was younger. In school, he was called disruptive. At home, he was 'smart'—and not in the way his father actually appreciated. Really, he never meant to be a problem, it was just the result of his need for some sort of excitement, some sort of stimulation—anything that would keep him out of his own head.

It didn't always have to be positive. In fact, more often than not, fear and pain were the easiest things to distract himself with. Besides the euphoria one might feel from sex, drugs, or alcohol, these two sensations were the easiest to come by. All it took to entertain his ever-racing mind was a good jump scare, or the press of a sharp object. That was how he developed a love for horror, how he ended up with more than half of his body wrapped in bandages, and how he found himself pinned up against the wall of a bar on a Saturday night.

It wasn't that he'd gone out looking for a fight, necessarily, they just happened to have a way of finding him. If his father could've seen him, he would shake his head, rubbing his temples while blaming Dazai's sharp tongue—something he, himself, was quite familiar with. But, of course, he was at home in his penthouse apartment, tucking Dazai's younger sister, Elise, into bed with some book she'd picked out about princesses or sugarplums or whatever. Or, more realistically, he was at the hospital, halfway through a six-hour surgery while a nanny filled in at home. That was how it was when Dazai was Elise's age, at least.

Anyway, regardless of where Mori was on that particular night, he would be very disappointed to hear that his son was one more witty quip away from getting his lights punched out in a crowded night club.

Maybe Dazai shouldn't have hit on the guy's girlfriend. Maybe he shouldn't have kept going after he told him to 'back the hell off,' threatening to kick his ass. And maybe—almost certainly—he shouldn't have said to the girl: "How about you send Freddy back to Elm street and spend the night at my place?"

But the burning shade of scarlet that the man had turned as his girlfriend scanned over his features—as if truly seeing them for the very first time—was worth whatever he had coming.

"I'll give you one last chance to apologize, you cocky little shit."

"You know what? You're right, i'm sorry. You don't look like Freddy Krueger, after all," Dazai chuckled. "Now that i'm getting a better look, I think Smeagol is a much closer resemblance."

The man's grip on Dazai's shirt tightened and he reared his fist back, winding up to swing. Dazai closed his eyes, smirking to himself as he waited for the blow to land.

*****

"Jesus, Yuan, this place is packed."

"That's because the drinks are strong and cheap and they actually play good music," she shouted back over the loud bass, pushing her way toward the crowded bar to get drinks for the three of them.

The group hadn't been there for ten minutes and Chuuya was already getting pretty annoyed. No one had any sense of personal space, not even sparing a glance when they stepped on his heels or elbowed his back. If he'd wanted to be jostled around this much, he would've just entered into a local cage match.

Yuan got them all a round of drinks and then she and Chuuya hit the dance floor while Shirase hung by the bar, watching the two of them. Chuuya didn't mind that the other boy didn't want to dance. He knew clubs like this weren't Shirase's scene. He thought he was being a good sport for coming along at all.

Once their cups were empty, Chuuya offered to buy a second round and dragged Yuan up to the bar.

"Having fun?" Shirase asked the two of them when they approached."