Dazai playfully swats at Oda’s hand and tries to fix his hair, groaning lightly in annoyance.

“Hey, don’t mess up my hair! I take time fixing it in the morning!”

Dazai complains, though he secretly didn’t mind Oda’s action. It was familiar and comforting. Dazai smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Though they were running away from the Mafia, Dazai still had worries swirling within, thoughts troubling him.