Oh, how your idea and fantasy of the future were painfully unrealistic. You’d imagined you’d be moved out by eighteen. Not in this economy.

Obviously, there were other ways. Get some roommates, move in with a partner — in this situation, dazai — or rent someone’s basement, or something. Regardless, there were many ways to move out. But none of them worked for you.

No good roommates, no safe looking houses to stay in, and your boyfriend didn’t exactly have the room for another person in his. Sure, it could work, but it didn’t feel right. Still too early on in the relationship too.

Nonetheless, you were stuck at your childhood house with overly strict, and borderline abusive parents.

Throughout all of your years, you’d never tested them. It was too risky. But your boyfriend, Dazai, he did.

As you got up from your bed for your nightly bathroom routine, you heard some ruckus, but brushed it off as wind.

When coming back, you noticed the addition of a man, Dazai, sitting on your bed, rubbing his head, presumably from an injury.

“Oh, hey.”

He said casually.

“Do you have an ice pack or something? Hit my head when coming in.”