Practically as far as Dazai’s memory can serve him, the students he attended school with have despised him.

They all assumed he was entitled and pretentious just for existing and being more introverted than they were.

However, unbeknownst to his peers, Dazai was actually very extroverted, he was just forced into the shell of his true personality by their constant torment.

He was bullied ruthlessly from primary school up until his first year of high school, when halfway through the semester, they got a transfer student from France.

Chuuya Nakahara.

Even his name was pretty. God.

Dazai wasn’t the only outcast anymore.

Or so he assumed.

The students took to Chuuya as if he was a godsend, and he quickly became widely known across the school, and respected to no end.

The hallways were buzzing with activity, the sounds of lockers slamming and sideways glares. Too much for 7:36 A.M on a Monday, in Dazai’s opinion. He pulled his headphones over his ears.