Chuuya is drunk. Very, very drunk. There isn’t a night Chuuya goes without drinking. If he tried, Chuuya didn’t think he’d be able to stand it. The burn of liquor down his throat is so soothing, the rich taste of whiskey and the sweetness of wine is something he can’t function without. Call it alcoholism; Chuuya calls it coping.

Dazai has some alcohol in the cupboard in his office. So that’s where he is, sprawled out on Dazai’s couch, hat discarded and a bottle of Pinot Noir in his hands.