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The egg yolk sun poured through the cracks in the blinds and awaited entrance into Dazai's eyes. Sight still in the clutches of last night's glue, he hesitantly rubbed his erotic dreams away. Thoughts of those blissful visions in sleep had come and gone in waves, clinging onto the very last memory of the night and with great success.
Upon waking, Dazai yawned, and burrowed himself deep into the warm, soft sheets. He rubbed the remainders of sleep from his eyes and gazed out at the horizon; its vivid light extended across a rosy sky. He supposed this was something the majority of people would consider beautiful, but he found it strange, hard even, to find something so meaningful in something so everyday. It's not like the sun wouldn't rise, it had, after all, been reliably happening ever since the beginning of time. So what was so special about it? He could never feel the joy from it that others did, the magic that drew so many artists and photographers in, as if they had some lens or filter he'd missed out on.
He yawned once again, and then realised that something was seemingly off. When he looked down he could see his clothes strewn across the floor; here, there and everywhere. But that was just the problem, only his clothes were here. Dazai immediately furrowed his eyebrows, tiredness still evident in his chocolate orbs, before he turned the other way and felt the opposite side of the bed, which he quickly figured out was empty.
You weren't there.
And you should have been there.
Dazai frantically looked around the room, but for some strange, inexplicable reason, there was no sign of you anywhere. You must have disappeared early in the morning, or even in the middle of the night. Dazai didn't know how to feel about this, but deep down, he was a little disheartened.
He could not believe this, but at the same time, he knew that he had deserved it.
• • •
Everyone was currently gathered around a table at Café Uzumaki, eating breakfast together. You were sandwiched between Yosano and Atsushi, sitting directly opposite you were your three favourite people; Ranpo, Kenji and Kyoka. Yosano was currently a complete and utter mess, her head was buried deep in her hands, and she was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses to hide her evident dark under-eye circles.
Yosano grunted under her breath. The aching in her skull ebbed and flowed like a cold tide, yet the pain was always there. She understood at once why they called it a hangover, for it felt as if the blackest of clouds were over her head with no intention of clearing until late afternoon.
"It's okay babe," you said as you soothingly rubbed her back in a circular motion with your hand, pulling her close to you. You felt terribly bad for the poor girl. You almost never had hangovers, you supposed that you were just very lucky in that sense. "Drink some coffee. It's a good cure for hangovers."
