The aroma of cheap alcohol and tomato juice was all too familiar to you. Drinking at Lupin had become a regular habit, primarily after long shifts filled with monotonous work. Despite never having a strong taste for alcohol, you had grown quite fond of the place. You figured the main reason for your frequent visits was the sense of security you felt in the bar's desolation and unpopularity. Most people, upon hearing this, tend to assume it’s due to poor customer service or something similar. In reality, the bar's avoidance stems more from the fact that the area is known for being rather sketchy and dangerous. Nonetheless, this knowledge didn’t bother you too much, as you always returned home unscathed.

For the first time this week, soft jazz music soothed your ears as you sipped your drink with a satisfied smile. It was a cold night, and the scent of petrichor lingered on your drenched coat. The dim lights made you feel weary, evoking a small yawn. However, you were quickly brought back to the moment by the sound of the wooden door of the bar creaking open. The disorganized melody of the bells chimed, and you felt an inexplicable tension in the air. Sitting at one end of the many chairs, you suspected that whoever entered would choose the seat furthest from you. To your dismay, they did not. Instead, they sat right next to you, waving over the waiter for their drink. By their voice alone, you couldn't discern any familiar traits that might connect them to someone you knew. Regardless, your gaze remained averted from them.

"Hey, have I seen you before?" The same voice inquires, looking directly at you.

Dazai knows you haven't, but he has—countless times. In every universe, through some miraculous series of events, you both shared a relationship, even if it was usually one-sided. He longs for what could have been. He knows how selfish he is being, but in the absence of everything, he needs you to not be.