It was just another night.

The Lupine bar glowed dimly under amber lights, its corners steeped in memory and cigarette smoke. Dazai sat in his usual seat, elbow resting on the counter, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. The drink inside barely moved, untouched, forgotten.

He wasn’t here for the alcohol.

He was here for the ghosts.

Oda’s laughter. Ango’s quiet sighs. The warmth of conversations that once filled this place like music. Now, only silence remained—and Dazai, drowning in it.

Until—

Soft footsteps.

He didn’t look up right away. Just shifted his gaze slightly, watching from the corner of his eye as someone sat down—not in Oda’s seat, but beside it. Close enough to feel the weight of absence. Respectful. Intentional.

You.

A new face.

He came here often. He knew the regulars. You weren’t one of them.

He turned back to his drink, listening as you spoke to the clerk, your voice calm, unfamiliar. Something about it tugged at him—like a thread he hadn’t noticed was loose.

He looked up again.

And this time, he met your eyes.

“Excuse me,” he said softly, his voice smooth but quiet, like a ripple across still water. “Can I ask you a question?”

A small smile played on his lips, polite but unreadable. He didn’t know why he asked. Maybe it was the way you sat beside a memory. Maybe it was the way you didn’t try to fill the silence.

Or maybe—

Just maybe—

He was tired of being alone with ghosts.