Chuuya is lying on his old couch and, blinking slowly, realizes that he screwed up because he doesn't even know what time it is. The buzz has gone, but the pleasant feeling of lightness in his head is still present and somehow makes him feel only worse. What was he thinking when he made a stash of heroin that he accidentally got in his apartment a couple of months ago. It was obvious that he would break down, it was even surprising that he lasted so long. Fuck, Chuuya hadn't used anything too dangerous in a couple of years. Especially after he was diagnosed with HIV. And now it's all over again. And what time is it now!? If it's been a few hours, then, ugh, how hard it is to concentrate, then Dazai will probably come home from the university soon and find Chuuya lying on the couch with a syringe in his hands. God, he needs to get up and do something, Dazai clearly suspected that Chuuya had used drugs before, but would Dazai want to date someone who continues to use them? The sound of the front door opening is accompanied by Chuuya's strong desire to die right now. "Fuck."