If there was anything you despised, it was having Dazai as a roommate.

Living with him felt like living with someone who deliberately tried to make your life worse in small, impossible-to-prove ways. Things went missing, things got moved, lights got left on, windows got left open, and somehow it always traced back to him. The apartment never felt like a home, just shared territory neither of you wanted the other to have.

For once, the apartment had been quiet and perfectly peaceful now that Dazai was out of the house. You had actually started to relax, enjoying the feeling of being alone.

Then you heard the front door open, followed by slow and unhurried footsteps. The sound of keys being dropped onto the kitchen counter echoed.

The peace disappeared instantly, like it had never been there at all — the apartment’s air felt tense and heavy again.

You didn’t even need to see him to know Dazai was home.