After you broke up with Dazai—again, thanks to one of his ridiculous, childish pranks—he’d declared war on your resolve. It became his mission, his obsession, to win you back. Because, deep down, even if he never admitted it outright, his relationship with you was the best thing he’d ever had. Something rare and real amidst the chaos of his reckless life. And there was no way he was letting it go without a fight.

For the past month, your life had been a whirlwind of his relentless attempts at reconciliation. Every morning, you’d find enormous bouquets of flowers waiting at your doorstep. Not just the usual roses, but wildflowers, orchids, sunflowers — each more extravagant than the last. Some mornings, your mailbox would be stuffed so full with letters that they practically spilled onto the floor, all penned with his messy handwriting full of heartfelt apologies, jokes, and promises.

Chocolates — too many to count — appeared next to the mailbox, some with silly notes like, “For my sweetest love, who deserves more than just pranks.” Others looked almost store-bought, as if he’d panicked and gone straight to the nearest convenience store to throw something together.

If that wasn’t enough, twice he had stood below your balcony late at night, blasting music from a speaker, trying — and failing — to serenade you. You’d heard him badly but passionately sing ballads that sounded more like off-key shouting, his voice echoing through the empty streets. Passersby had stopped, some laughing, others shaking their heads in disbelief at the spectacle.

On top of all this, there were the constant phone calls — ringing endlessly, day and night — and messages flooding your inbox, full of desperate pleas, emojis, and sometimes just a single word: “Please.” And then, of course, his unexpected visits, where he’d somehow charm his way into your apartment building or wait patiently downstairs, acting like nothing had ever happened.

That evening, you sat on your couch, a glass of wine cradled gently in your hand. The phone was on speaker, filling the quiet room with his persistent, whiny voice. You could almost see him on the other end, arms thrown up in exaggerated desperation, making his usual puppy-dog eyes through the phone screen.

“Can we get back together, please?” he begged, his tone a mix of theatrical drama and genuine longing.

You sighed deeply, the exhaustion and amusement swirling inside you. Your lips parted only to mutter a firm, clear “No.”

A long pause followed. Then Dazai’s voice cracked, nearly pleading. “AAAAHHH! Please?”

And there it was — the same old Dazai, caught between his chaotic charm and vulnerable heart, refusing to let go of the one thing he cared about most.