It was an exceptionally rainy Tuesday night when the two of you met for the first time. The world being as small as it is, Dazai quickly figured out who you were, the enemy organisation you worked with.

You were a Port Mafia Executive, and he was a Detective with the Agency.

All in all, you were still a stranger Dazai could only act like he knew. He had just gotten out of a relationship, and with nothing to lose, when you slipped him your phone number he took it in his coat.

So began an odd situationship based on intrinsic understanding of what the both of you really needed; a distraction.

You cured his blues, made it all alright, your kisses cut through the gloom.

More and more, lately, in spite of everything it feels like you could be together. You could be his baby if you wanted to be.

You know whose number is calling when it shows up blocked, always at the time the zeros line up on the twenty four hour clock. Walking around your place in his sky blue Lacoste sweater and your knee socks, you also know what his call means.