Unravel Me

4: Get it Together

   Sunday morning brought a raging hangover for Dazai. Ideally, he would have tried to sleep it off, not rolling out of bed until noon, but the universe had other plans.

   His phone started ringing around nine o'clock, the blaring sound making his head throb. He wanted to chuck it across the room, roll over, and go back to sleep. Of course, he knew he couldn't do that. There was only one person who had the gall to call him so early on weekends.

   "Hello?" Dazai answered groggily, still half-buried under the covers.

   "Please tell me you aren't just waking up." He could hear the annoyance in his father's cold voice.

   "'Course not. Who doesn't get up at the crack of dawn on their day off?"

   "Bums, I'd imagine," Mori said. "So I'm assuming you forgot about this morning?"

   "How could I forget about this morning? I'm living it. I do it every week. Tomorrow i'll do Monday morning, then Tuesday, then—"

   "Dazai," his father warned.

   "Alright, alright. There's no need to worry. I'm leaving my apartment now."

   He slid out from under the covers and crossed the room to his closet. He put the call on speaker, setting it down on his dresser so he could pull a t-shirt over his head.

   "Do you think you'll make it in time or should I let Sugiyama know you'll be late?"

   "Sugiyama?" Dazai questioned as he stepped into his pants.

   "Noburu Sugiyama. An old colleague of mine. The dean of the graduate school we picked for you."

   'We' was a very loose term. Dazai had had no say in the matter, just like every other aspect of his life. He hadn't wanted to go to med school after finishing undergrad. Hell, he didn't even want to be a doctor. But none of the mattered, because it was what Mori wanted. He wanted Dazai to follow in his footsteps, to be something he could brag about—the perfect, brilliant son raised by an equally perfect and brilliant father.

   If only everyone knew the truth. If only they saw the side of Mori that was reserved for his incredibly faulted, disappointment of a son.

   "Right. I guess the name slipped my mind."

   Dazai was tugging off the clothes he'd just changed into, realizing he'd have to put more effort into his appearance if he wanted to appease his father.

   "His name doesn't seem to be the only thing you've forgotten."

   "Right. And what's the name of the place we're meeting at again?"

   He heard his father sighing on the other end of the line. "I'll text you the address."

   "Alright, sounds good. I should be there in. . ."

   Mori had already hung up.

   Seconds later, a text notification popped up on Dazai's phone screen, giving him directions to the restaurant they were meeting at for brunch.  He slipped into his coat, grabbed his keys, and dashed out the door.

   He'd forgotten his sunglasses, which, given the fact that the light from the sun made it feel like his skull was being smashed to pieces by a hammer, would have been really nice to have, but he was already running too late to turn back around.

   The train ride through the city was rough. Every bump and lurch made Dazai's stomach feel like it was turning inside-out. It was so bad that he ended up getting off before his stop, deciding that walking an extra fifteen blocks was worth it if it meant not puking on public transit.

   He was expecting to be tired. He was expecting to be out of breath. What he wasn't expecting, however, was to see a familiar face—or rather, two familiar faces.

   He almost didn't notice them. It was like they'd tried to make themselves smaller so they could hide in the shadows cast by the awning of the nearby market. He was about to call out to them, but stopped himself when he realized how guilt-stricken they looked as they exited the door of an apartment building on the other side of the street. Yuan was in pajamas, but Shirase was still wearing the same clothes from the previous night, though slightly disheveled.

   Dazai really hoped he wasn't seeing what he thought he was seeing, but it was confirmed when Shirase pulled Yuan in for one last kiss.

   The image stuck with him through his very important breakfast, holding his attention more than Sugiyama. He couldn't understand how Yuan and Shirase could hurt Chuuya like that. The three of them had been friends for years. Sure, Chuuya was an angry little guy, but it seemed like he was a good person underneath his tough exterior. If he weren't, then he wouldn't have come to Dazai's rescue the previous night, not only stopping that man at the bar from beating him to a pulp, but also helping him home when it was clear he had a bit too much to drink. Admittedly, Dazai didn't understand why he had done it—he thought Chuuya hated him.

   Mori was not oblivious to the fact that his son was distracted. His breaking point, however, was when Dazai almost knocked his water glass onto Sugiyama's plate. He pushed his chair back and stood up.

   "If you'll excuse me, Noburu, I have to run to the restroom." And then, turning to his son, he said, "Dazai, would you mind lending me a hand in finding it? I seem to have forgotten my contacts at home."

   Dazai knew it wasn't really a request, but a carefully disguised demand. What Mori was really saying was: 'Come with me to the restroom, you useless excuse for a son, so that I can drill into you how important it is not to ruin this breakfast the way that you ruin everything else.'

   So, Dazai plastered on a smile and stood up with him. "I'd be happy to. Should you take my arm so I can lead the way?"

   "I don't think that will be necessary," his father replied. His tone sounded cheerful enough to fool Sugiyama, but Dazai knew that his father was warning him not to act smart in front of the man they were trying to impress.

   The two of them found their way to the rest room, which was empty, much to Dazai's dismay. That meant that Mori wouldn't have to hold back in whatever lecture he was about to give. And, to ensure this, his father locked the door so they wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted.

   "What is wrong with you?" He hissed.

   "Like. . . today?"

   Mori looked at the bags under his son's eyes. "Are you hungover?"

   "In my defense—"

   "For Pete's sake, Osamu. Don't you understand that this man could help you get into one of the top medical programs in all of Japan? Your entire future—everything we've worked for—is on the line. You need to take this seriously."

   Dazai stiffened. Hearing his father call him 'Osamu' was rare. It was usually the result of a really big fuckup. He'd heard it a lot when he was younger. Of course, Mori was drinking a lot back then, so he had a much shorter temper and a heavier hand.

   He'd learned over the years how to hide his emotions—he had to, living in that house—so he didn't flinch anymore when his father raised his voice. Why, then, should hearing his given name have such an effect on him?

   "Get it together," Mori snapped, unlocking the door. He'd apparently decided that their conversation was over.

   Dazai was hardly himself for the rest of the meal, letting Mori do most of the talking for him. He knew that it wouldn't really matter to Sugiyama. The man was just entertaining the interests of an old colleague. It wasn't like he actually cared to get to know Dazai, so why should he open his mouth and risk saying something stupid?

   And anyway, it was really Mori's reputation that was on the line, wasn't it?