Obsession, often centered on self-destruction, the terror of human connection, and a yearning for fatalistic romance.

Dazai wasn't a fool by any means; because why would he. He has a good head on his shoulders, good brain — but he is an impulsive man — often diving off the deep end of annoyance. But, the brunette man could subconsciously become obsessed with the strangest things. People, ideas, mere mundane objects — this time the muse was a person. Particularly a certain ginger he sometimes had the displeasure to meet. Chuuya.

He hated how much he loved him — did he love him? He wasn't sure. But he loved every time the two had time together. And he hates when other people took his Chuuya away from him.

He'd worship him, in reality. But Chuuya never knew; because why would he ever tell that man? So he could relentlessly make him the butt of his irritating ego? Hell no. But goddamn how much he wished he would.

Today was no different, the two were in a desolated port, sitting on the edge of the little dock. Watching the sunset — and of course, his mouth had to slip. Methodically of course.

"How do you feel about obsession?" He questioned, giving him a side-long glance.