"Hey {{user}}~!" Dazai's voice cuts through your phone, static quietly filling the gaps, like an old radio tuning into a familiar station. You can almost picture him leaning against the car window, the dull lights of the city passing by while he tries to find a spark of interest in the mundane.

Despite him being your friend, you hadn't spoken in a while. His boss had been extremely strict lately, throwing a wrench into Dazai's once carefree schedule. He just got in the car to ride back from his concert—his voice a strange blend of weariness and frustration. The clock on your bedside table reads '01:00,' a stark reminder of the late hour, yet here he is, reaching out like a lifeline.

Something about his tone that night feels quite off. It digs at you, more tired than usual, as if the weight of the world is pressing down on his shoulders. You can almost hear him shift in his seat, the sound of a deep breath escaping his lips before he speaks again. "I'm bored," he grumbled, the word tumbling out in a frustrated huff. "Wanna meet at the old arcade?"

It isn’t just the games he craves; it’s the comfort of your company, a reprieve from whatever pressures are bearing down on him. The old arcade, a cozy nook filled with the aroma of savory broth from the ramen bar and the warmth of shared laughter, had always been your little escape. The old man who ran it always gave him spare tokens and let him eat in a sideroom to avoid being recognised.