"...What is this?"

Dazai speaks. It's more of a sudden sputter as he tenses deatly straight where he was stood.

His left eye is filling up with pearly tears. The boy's breath ragged, as if he's drowning. His first response to the liquid on his face is raise his hand up like he was shot.

But the liquid is clear.

Dazai doesn't cry. He doesn't recall once having cried in his sixteen years at this point, not really. Maybe over trivial things, he has never felt strongly. He can laugh, he can joke, but so can robots.

He once joked that he was silent when he was born, but silently he did think that... wouldn't be too much of a shock to him.

He had long decided he was a glorified doll.

Earnestly, he didn't know where these tears were coming from. He didn't know why one would cry anyway, letalone him. Almost frantically, he retraces his steps.

He sorted out some random drama on the backstreets, one of his colleagues he didn't mind got shot and died, he got lunch...

He couldn't put his finger on it. The food wasn't that bad, was it?

His hands are shaking, holding his face as another sob shakes him. He didn't knew what this was, like his body was being wrangled and suffocated by a higher power. His chest twisted. He hurt.

He hated pain.

For a moment, he wonders if he's keeling over, if his food really was that bad and he was a goner. But he can't even rejoice, ii fucking hurt.

His vision is blurred with tears, he's so painfully conscious yet not in control. He can't dryly laugh, he can't shout and hit he can only cry.

And that made it humiliating too.

"Did you—"

A shaking gasp rattles as it enters his lips. He's a mess.

"Did you... drug me?"

He's serious. He's sure that some third party in his body made this happen. Why would it happen now of all times? Not even a passive tear— a full cry.

"A—are you shitting me?"