𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗱𝗮𝗱𝗱𝘆 ✎ 𝙙𝙖𝙯𝙖𝙞✘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧❪✘𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖❫

𝟬𝟬𝟱

"I missed you."

You looked down at the note, your eyes tracing the flowing, somewhat messy handwriting. The message was light-hearted, but what caught your attention next was the number written below it, scrawled with the same careless elegance.

Your fingers ran over the words, feeling the slight ridges of Dazai's writing. You could sense the unspoken intention behind the gesture—a bridge between the chaos of the day and a potential future encounter.

With a sigh, you scrunched the paper note in your hand, the creases crinkling and the once-flat sheet now a compact, wadded ball. The gesture was both a release and a statement, a summary of the blend of amusement and contemplation that Dazai's intrusion had stirred within you.

"Fucking bandaged dipshit," you muttered aloud, tossing the crumpled ball of paper toward the trash can without moving from your spot on the couch.

"You missed," came a dry, amused voice.

You scoffed and looked around the room, "No shit."

Your gaze swept over the spaciousness of your house, a distinction of apartments. The room was large, with high ceilings and plenty of light filtering in through expansive windows. The space reflected your preference for privacy and tranquility—a haven away from the shared walls and constant noise of apartment living.

The thought of shared walls and noisy neighbors evoked a deep-seated frustration. You'd rather kill someone than endure that kind of intrusion into your personal space. The openness and solitude of your home provided a welcome salvation, a haven where the only disturbances were the occasional antics of friends and the mischief of your son and Chuuya.

The living room, one of the largest yet emptiest spaces in your home, stretched out around you. The couch sat prominently in the center of the room, facing the large TV mounted on the wall. Below the couch, a plush carpet added a touch of warmth to the otherwise expansive space. The TV was framed by a sleek console table, its surface neatly arranged with a few decorative items and remotes.

On the right side of the room, a door led to other parts of the house, while on the left, a staircase ascended to the upper levels. The room was framed by the soft, golden light of the afternoon sun, which streamed in through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the floor.

Behind the living room was the kitchen, a sizable area that stood almost as a separate entity from the rest of the house. It was outfitted with all the necessary appliances and counter space, but its large, open design seemed almost untouched. The kitchen was rarely used, if not by Chuuya, due to your lack of culinary skills.

Your back rested against the armrest of the couch, your legs draped comfortably over Chuuya's lap. He sat at the other end of the couch, casually snacking on popcorn, the small sounds of crunching punctuating the otherwise peaceful ambiance of the room.

The living room was quiet, save for the occasional flicker of light from the TV and the soft hum of the afternoon sun filtering through the windows. You waited for Kouyou to arrive, as she often did, to look after your son while you and Chuuya enjoyed a night out. Chuuya's relaxed posture and the way he absentmindedly tossed popcorn into his mouth suggested a sense of ease and contentment.

"He wrote some shitty ass apology?" Chuuya asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

"You bet," you replied with a dismissive wave.