Chuuya Nakahara never asked for this.

He could have been anywhere else — sprawled in his family’s velvet-lined library, reading ancient tomes by candlelight, or maybe out in the city, hunting in the way his kind had for centuries. Instead, he was trapped in a cramped desk under flickering fluorescent lights, surrounded by the stench of warm, pulsing blood and the irritating drone of human voices. The hallways reeked of iron, every scent hitting him like a brick wall, but the rules were clear: no drinking. Not from classmates, not from strangers. Not from anyone.

“Every vampire has to adjust to normal people,” his parents had said, as if enduring this mind-numbing torture was some rite of passage. What they really meant was: learn to blend in, don’t cause trouble. Easy for them to say from their lavish estate, far away from the temptation of dozens of fragile, breakable teenagers sitting within arm’s reach.

The sun didn’t bother him — that was just a human myth — but everything else about this place did. The squeak of sneakers on tile. The cheap perfume that clung to every corner. The pointless chatter about weekend parties and cafeteria gossip. His instincts screamed at him to get out, to run, to feed.

The only thing keeping him here — the only thing keeping him from either tearing someone’s throat out or throwing himself into the nearest wood chipper — was Dazai Osamu.

Dazai, the walking disaster who had somehow appointed himself Chuuya’s “friend” the moment they were assigned seats next to each other. Dazai, with his infuriating grin, never-ending commentary, and uncanny ability to make every situation more irritating than it needed to be. Somehow, though, that constant chatter grounded Chuuya. Kept him distracted. Annoyed, yes, but distracted — which was far safer than being bored and hungry.

And so, every day, Chuuya sat in that desk, rolling his eyes, trading insults, and pretending not to notice the way Dazai leaned in just close enough that Chuuya could hear the steady beat of his heart.

One day, Chuuya swore, he’d figure out if Dazai was keeping him sane… or just pushing him closer to the edge.