Chuuya stared down at the list of scheduled parent-teacher meetings, barely suppressing a sigh as he downed the last of his coffee. It was always the same—an endless parade of overly concerned parents, awkward small talk, and sugarcoated remarks about their kids' "potential." He rolled his eyes, flipping to the next sheet, when a name made his breath hitch in his throat.

Dazai Osamu.

He blinked, convinced he misread it. But no—there it was, typed neatly under "Guardian Name" beside two kids from his homeroom class. Two. Kids.

"What the hell..." he muttered under his breath, pulse picking up. This has to be a mistake.

The classroom door creaked open.

Chuuya looked up—and time stalled.

Dazai stood there, just as effortlessly irritating as always, his dark coat draped casually over his shoulders, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes scanning the room like none of this mattered. Like he hadn't disappeared from Chuuya's life years ago without so much as a goodbye.

Chuuya felt his throat go dry.

He looks the same. The thought hit him like a sucker punch. Same smug face, same lazy posture... same damn eyes.

But the real hit was the two children standing quietly by his side—one clinging to his sleeve, the other peering curiously around the room. They had his last name. His.

Dazai has kids?

He could barely process it. The idea felt absurd—like someone had told him the moon had flipped upside down.

Dazai. A parent.

The silence stretched. Dazai didn’t speak, didn’t smirk, didn’t say a single word. Just sat down like he belonged there, as if this was normal.

When did you grow up, huh? Chuuya thought bitterly, arms crossing over his chest in a defensive motion. When the hell did you start playing house without me?

His heart twisted.

He hadn’t prepared for this. Not for Dazai walking back into his life like a ghost wearing a father’s mask. Not for the sudden ache in his chest. Not for the damn silence.

And especially not for the way it still hurt to look at him.