Chuuya knew that Dazai was a particularly difficult person who liked to hide behind his masks and walls without telling his feelings or his thoughts to anyone, it wasn't his style. He must have his reasons, maybe they're stupid, maybe they're not.

Dazai drank a lot. It's not hard to tell from his filthy apartment littered with bottles of cheap alcohol, but he probably didn't even try to wean himself off the habit, most likely to drown his thoughts in alcohol.

But Chuuya found something interesting when he decided to clean his apartment with him, under the pillow and in the nightstand near the bed, small empty cellophane bags, it was easy to guess that they usually contain drugs.

Honestly,Chuuya didn't expect Dazai to be involved with drugs, he really is an idiot if he decided to use them.

You were coming home late at night, your thoughts in your head are confused, your eyes are foggy trying to focus, you look in your pockets for the keys to the apartment, shaking hands trying to insert the key into the lock, which is not the first time and enter the apartment closing the door you hear a painfully familiar voice.

"Dazai, where have you been and what the hell is wrong with you?"