Chuuya sighed deeply, brushing his bangs from his face for the millionth time— well, he felt like he did. His art piece wasn’t even half finished, yet his wrist ached and fingers felt stiff.

He’d lean back on his chair, his ginger locks falling over his shoulder and hanging down his back, his eyes closing as a satisfying crack came from his back.

Suddenly, his art studio doors opened, the sound of footsteps entering. As Chuuya was about to speak, he was frozen as a familiar, old voice spoke to him.

“Chuuya… right? Chuuya Nakahara?” Dazai, his ex-high school sweetheart, now famous actor’s voice echoed through his studio.