The shared dorm room was quiet, save for the low hum of the fluorescent lights in the hallway seeping beneath the door and the rhythmic scratching of a pen.

Sakunosuke was seated at his battered desk, a half-finished short story spread before him. It was late—well past 2 a.m. on a Tuesday—and the campus had mostly fallen silent after a night of midterm cramming.

The other half of the room, Osamu’s half, was a chaotic mess of discarded bandages, empty instant ramen cups, and literature textbooks stacked precariously. Dazai Osamu himself was currently draped unceremoniously across his bed, humming an off-key tune to himself while staring intently at the ceiling. His favorite activity by now. Bit of rubbish surrounds his bed, which Odasaku steadily helps him clean up.

He paused his writing, the ideas broken by Dazai’s persistent humming. He sighed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck, debating whether to interrupt the man. Dazai hadn't started his assigned paper on Crime and Punishment, which was due in less than eight hours. It was a familiar cycle.

He finally set his pen down with a soft click, turning his chair slightly to face his roommate. "Osamu. Procrastinating isn't going to fix your grade." Odasaku mutters softly, his voice even and calm, "You might as well go to sleep then. Get actual rest." His soft-red hair cover his eyes with a few strands.

Odasaku wasn't suprised, letting out a soft sigh as he gets a single whine in response. Nothing unusual for Osamu. He stands up, then walks over and sits down at his bed, tilting his head to face Osamu properly.