062

The door swung closed behind me with a final click, the dull scent of Lupin’s stale alcohol clinging to my coat.

The drizzle had thinned further, barely more than a ghostly mist brushing my face.

I tilted my head slightly, enjoying the faint sensation.

A small noise drew my attention — soft footfalls approaching, deliberate but not aggressive.

When I turned, I saw them.

Dazai, with his coat collar pulled high, hands buried in pockets, his gaze pinning me with that boyish curiosity and something darker, coiled beneath his lazy smile.

Beside him stood Sakunosuke-san, posture straight but easy, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, his eyes steady and quietly assessing.

For a heartbeat, the three of us simply regarded each other in the moon pale streetlight.

“Ah,” I murmured softly, my voice sliding through the space like a scalpel. “Were you two… what Sakaguchi-san was waiting for?”

Dazai’s brows twitched, just for an instant.

Then he tilted his head, a glint of suspicion brightening his gaze, though he tried to play it off.

“...You were inside with Ango?” he asked, voice pitched low, that lilting carelessness he wore like a second skin.

I tapped a gloved finger against my chin thoughtfully. “Mm… I didn’t know he had company coming. He looked so lonely, I thought I’d say hello.”

Sakunosuke-san's eyes softened faintly, though his expression didn’t change much. His greeting was simple, almost gentle.

“Good evening, sir,” he said, inclining his head politely.

I turned my smile on him, something small and bright that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Sakunosuke-san… Always so polite. I hope your evening plans aren’t too disrupted?”

Sakunosuke-san shook his head, unbothered. “Not at all.”

Dazai’s attention flickered sharply between us, reading the nuances like a starving man eyeing a meal.

But he didn’t speak immediately. His fingers fidgeted in his pocket — a small tell.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Dazai finally said.

The words were light, but his eyes drilled into mine, searching for something he hadn’t named yet.

I leaned forward slightly, close enough to catch the faint scent of gunpowder and soap clinging to his coat. “Oh? Is tonight special? A little secret gathering, perhaps?”

A ripple of confusion danced across his features before he smoothed it away, offering me that easy, dangerous smirk. “You could say that.”

Sakunosuke-san simply observed, his cigarette glowing softly in the drizzle.

His presence was quiet, but not passive — like a sea cliff, solid and unmovable, even if waves crashed against it endlessly.

I let my gaze drift past Dazai’s shoulder, toward the door of Lupin. My smile sharpened a fraction.

“Well then… Have a lovely time, both of you.”

I moved to step around them, and Sakunosuke-san shifted slightly to give space — instinctively respectful, even if he didn’t fully understand why.

Dazai’s hand shot out, almost touching my sleeve. “Wait—”

His voice sliced into the air, sudden and rough, as though he hadn’t meant for it to come out quite like that.

I paused mid step, my expression serene.

His hand hovered, inches from the fabric.

For a moment, we just looked at each other — the moonlight cutting cold lines into the planes of his face.

Then I gave a soft laugh, tilted my head, and vanished.

The faint sound of air collapsing filled the silence where I’d stood.

Dazai’s hand dropped to his side, fingers curling slightly.

Sakunosuke exhaled, tapping ash from his cigarette. “...That was unexpected.”

Dazai glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction. “You knew he’d be here?”

Sakunosuke's gaze slid back to the door. “No. But he moves on his own schedule.”

There was a pause. Dazai’s expression twitched again, that flicker of childish offense mixing with curiosity.

“...Tch,” he clicked his tongue lightly, his shoulders slumping in a practiced display of nonchalance. “Whatever. Let’s go in.”

Inside Lupin, Ango was already halfway through his tomato juice, fingers trembling minutely as he set the glass down.

He stiffened as the two entered.

“Ah— Dazai-kun. Odasaku-san.”

Dazai approached first, a glimmer of mischief flickering behind his half lidded eyes. “Ango, you look like you just saw a ghost.”

Ango adjusted his glasses with a trembling hand, gaze skittering between them. “It’s nothing.”

Dazai slid into the seat across from him, resting his chin on one palm. “Really? You sure? You’re shaking more than usual.”

Sakunosuke took a quiet seat beside them, giving Ango a steady look. He didn’t push, simply existing as a quiet presence.

Ango swallowed hard, clearly debating internally.

Dazai tilted his head, an almost reptilian patience seeping into his posture. “Was it him? Did something happen?”

Ango winced minutely. Then, exhaling as if in defeat, he muttered, “L/N Y/N… happened.”

Dazai’s eyes widened a fraction before narrowing again, sharp. “...You know him personally?”

Ango hesitated, fingers fidgeting with his glass. “I… We’ve met before. Years ago.”

Dazai straightened slightly, his tone feigning casual. “Oh? You two go way back?”

Ango opened his mouth, closed it, and finally sighed. “We have… a complicated understanding. He’s… unpredictable.”

Dazai snorted softly, leaning back in his chair with a slight smirk. “Hah~ Betrayed by my dear friend… How tragic.”

Sakunosuke glanced at him, raising a brow. “Betrayed?”

Dazai waved a dismissive hand, though his eyes didn’t match the laziness of the gesture. “Ah, no, no. It’s just… Ango usually tells me everything. And yet… this?”

Ango pressed his lips into a thin line, avoiding Dazai’s gaze. “It isn’t something relevant to you. Or anyone for that matter.”

Dazai’s expression darkened for a heartbeat, something cruel and curious sparking in his eyes. But then he leaned forward again, propping his chin on both hands now, like a bored child.

“Well… Did he threaten you?”

Ango tensed slightly, pushing his glasses up again. “Yes. Harassment included.”

Dazai’s smile sharpened. “He likes you.”

Ango nearly choked on his breath. “That’s… not how I would describe it.”

Dazai chuckled low in his throat, clearly entertained by Ango’s discomfort. “Oh? But he doesn’t usually waste time on people he doesn’t find… interesting.”

Sakunosuke tapped ash from his cigarette again, his tone quiet but firm. “Enough, Dazai.”

Dazai’s gaze snapped over, caught for a moment in Sakunosuke's calm, unflinching stare. The tension broke with a small laugh, Dazai’s shoulders shaking.

“Ahh… Odasaku, you’re always so serious.”

Ango glanced gratefully at Sakunosuke, though he quickly looked down again.

Dazai leaned back, eyes glittering. “Well… it’s amusing, at least. I suppose I’ll forgive you, Ango. You're my friend, after all!”

Ango shot him a weary, exasperated look. “...Thank you?”

Dazai hummed, clearly enjoying himself. “Ah, but you must tell me… did he say anything interesting?”

Ango thought for a moment, fingers curling around his glass tightly. “No. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Hm~” Dazai waved a hand vaguely, as though brushing away smoke. “Still… he’s so fascinating, isn’t he?”

Ango shivered faintly. “Fascinating… isn’t the word I’d choose.”

Dazai laughed, high and bright, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, that’s why you’re you, Ango.”

The table fell silent then, the weight of the moment pressing down like fog.

Ango finally took a long sip of his tomato juice.

Dazai leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. “Ah well… I suppose tonight’s mysteries will remain mysteries.”

He glanced at Ango again, that wolfish glimmer returning. “Next time he visits, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

Ango’s expression formed into one of troubled, a drop of sweat rolling down his cheek. “I can’t promise that.”

Dazai’s grin widened dangerously. “Ah… you’re learning.”

Sakunosuke stubbed out his cigarette, his voice calm and final. “Enough.”

Dazai looked at him again, and this time he didn’t push back. His lips tugged into a smile.

“Shall we have another drink, then? The night’s still young.”

Ango nodded, adjusting his glasses once more.

Sakunosuke simply closes his eyes, his presence steady.

As they drink, the rain had finally ceased, leaving the streets slick and gleaming under the city lights.

The night yawned wide and indifferent, mirroring the hollow within.