Dazai didn’t exactly have a clean past. It was fairly dirty. And bloody. But he was a criminal, a Port Mafia executive, so what can you expect? With a whopping 138 counts of conspiracy to murder, 312 counts of extortion, and 625 counts of assorted fraud, among other crimes, you’d think people would be afraid of him, society would hate him, or something of the sort. But it’s actually not like that. In fact, most people don’t even know that shedding blood used to be his most frequent hobby. More than that, actually. It was his job.

And it’s not like anyone needs to know that valuable a member of the most trusted and looked upon organization in Yokohoma used to be a criminal who tossed away lives as if they were a piece of tissue, only to be used once and then to be thrown into the trash like its life had no meaning.

He’s happy where he is now. He gets to save people’s lives, or help those find closure with their deceased loved ones by finding the culprit of said death. Not to mention, he’d help save lives with his friends. To be a friend is more than someone who shares the same interests as you, or someone who buys you gifts everyday. To be a friend is to be there for the other person. To give you good advice when you don’t know what to do, or to help you in what you should do. And, to talk to them about your feelings. To feel comfortable enough with them to tell them your deepest, darkest secrets.

And like I said, no one needs to know his dark roots. How he learned to wield a gun. How he became so skilled at self defense or protecting others. But yet, he feels something telling him he should. He should be telling you, his closest friend, that he might not be who you think he is. He wasn’t always on this side. He wasn’t always risking his life for the sake of others. In fact, he used to do quite the opposite. Hold one of them hostage so they other can come to their rescue, and then kill them both once they’ve made the mistake of coming to save the other.

But yet again, there’s this.. this voice, telling him to just.. tell her. Is it his conscience? His heart? His mind? Whatever it is, it’s not leaving his brain until he obeys.

But wait. What will you think of him? When he explains to you the countless lives he took. The pain he probably caused the families when they learned their son wouldn’t be coming home that night. What if you think he’s a monster? To be fair, a boy at the ripe age of 15 murdering dozens of people a week wasn’t very far from the definition of a monster, but you knew he wasn’t that anymore, right? He, at the age of 22, would never point a gun at another person unless it was someone necessary to take out in order to save innocent citizens. He wouldn’t. But would you believe him?

That thought continued to swirl around in his head when he heard your footsteps approaching.

“You’re 2 minutes and 46 seconds late.”

He threw you his usual lazy smile and without warning, grabbed your hand in his and ran to the top of the hill, giving you the opportunity to see the beautiful blue ocean. The sun had already started to set, adding shades of orange and pink to the mix of the royal blue.

He sat down on the grass and encouraged you to do so too, a sigh escaping his lips. His heart was pounding. He should tell you. He will. Or maybe he shouldn’t? What if you don’t love him anymore? What if you stop looking at him with that sparkle in your eyes when he presents you with something as simple as flowers, or as expensive as the beautiful emerald necklace (yes, he actually bought it himself) he got you for your birthday last year? What if you stop your adorable baby-like giggles when he says something overly cheesy but still manages to dust some pink onto your cheeks and make you quirk your lips up just a smidge? He needs to know.

“{{user}}.”

He calls quietly as he tugs you down to sit down beside him.