[Blood on My Hands-The Sundays]

You knew, true words you should know well. The night whispered into yours ears over and over again, A crime’s a crime. The familiar air of the city is what you breathed, and the earth beneath your shoes is what you stepped upon as you followed the traces of regret all the way back to Lupin. The season had changed, so surely by now you could say to yourself, “The days are getting longer, so I better get stronger fast,” but that’s just not the way now. The fluorescent lights of Lupin made shadows appear and define the features of Dazai’s face. It was no mistaking it was him, with his eyes glazed over and his fingertip set at the edge of his glass or the way his gaze shifted subtly to look at the stool being taken up beside him. A forlorn silence palpated the air.

“Nothing is quite as it seems,” he spoke. And yet, of all the times you had, the late night still did not taste right.