Lrt > as an SKK AU where Dazai lives his life based around studying and is barely keeping himself afloat until across the street a new family moves in and kid always plays his double bass.

One day Mori walks into Dazai’s room, catches him staring, mesmerized and longingly,

at the red headed boy across the street wringing out a beautiful and boisterous melody. With a frown he walks over and slams the window shut.

“If you cannot multi task, you must choose the more important task,” he says, before leaving Dazai in silence.

The click of the latch resonates through the space in a way the music never did. It echoes through the silence and stays in the back of Dazai’s mind long after Mori left.



The next day when Dazai slides his window open, he does it cautiously and quietly and with a glance

over his shoulder.

The tang of wet steel settles in the back of his throat and the soft tinkering of rain fills his room. There’s no music yet, and he hopes that it works in his favour and that Mori won’t suspect that’s why he’s opened the window.

Going back to his desk, he

cracks his “Physics 101” textbook, and tells himself he’s not listening.

The music comes like a slow wave that washes upon the shore. It feels like it weaves between his toes and caresses up his body.

The rain dampens it, but the notes seem to dance between the spaces of the

drops, and thread into the air before they’re in Dazai’s room, in his space, and in his head.

He wants to look up, but he won’t. He’s learnt his lesson.

He’s not allowed to look because he never looks away.

When his door creaks open, he’s hunched and pouring over his notes.

The music integrates itself into Dazai’s life whether he meant it to or not. There’s only one day a week where the music doesn’t play.

Sunday’s are always when Dazai gets the most studying done. He eventually learns to keep the window closed.

Spring is coming.

The sun is out, and there’s something light about the air, that’s teetering and on the edge of blooming. He looks up at the dark and gangly branches of the bare Sakura trees, and the wind rustles between them.

He imagines they’ll bloom soon and this walkway

will be under a canopy of pink.

Adjusting his bag strap higher on his shoulder, he continues walking.

He hears it before he sees it: A rattle, a shuffle and then a pause. A rattle, a shuffle and then a pause.

He rounds the corner and someone. Their back is to him, and they

Appear to be shaking something before tossing it up... and attempting to catch it with their mouth.

Dazai frowns. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, instead he watches as the person tosses up small colourful beads and catches them.

“What are you doing?” he finally asks.

The guy startles and whips around. The colourful bead the guy had just tossed landed unceremoniously on his head, before bouncing on the ground with a *ting*, and rolling until it bumped against Dazai’s shoe.

“Who the hell are you?” He snapped, as if Dazai had just invaded his

bedroom instead of walking on a public street.

“You answer my question first,” Dazai retorted, and he takes the opportunity to take in the person who he’s talking to.

Green plaid pants, a burgundy blazer, a rumpled white dress shirt and a tie that been haphazardly loosened

all said that he went to the high school a few blocks away from here. But it was his hair, that Dazai was instantly drawn to. It was his hair that identified him to Dazai.

It’s fiery red shade shone copper as it glistened brightly and vibrantly in the afternoon sun.

It was different seeing it up close instead of from a distance and in the shadow of a room.

Dazai definitely wasn’t mesmerized, and he definitely wasn’t staring.

The guy seemed oblivious though because he kept glaring, which was a good thing because Dazai would never admit it

"I was eating," he spat out while shaking the pack of Gobstoppers in his hand.

Dazai raised a brow. "Like a ten year old? You know you could have choked, right?"

If it was possible the guy's brows narrowed even more. "Shut up," he said, before shoving a candy in his mouth.

The hard *crunch* as he grinds the candy is heard even from where Dazai stands.

An awkward silence falls between them, and Dazai isn’t sure whether they are studying eachother or if Dazai is studying the redhead, and the redhead is just glaring at him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” the guy finally says.

“Why would I? I’m worried for my safety. You haven’t stopped glaring at me, since I rounded the corner — of this public street, mind you.”

The guys face turned sour, and the look was only minutely better than the glare.

Better because his pointed nose scrunched and it was actually kind of cute, even if he still somehow looked angry.

“Why? What do you think I’m gonna do? Beat you up?”

Dazai shrugged. “Good point. I don’t think you’d be able to reach my face.”

“Hah?!”

“I’m just saying.”

The guy’s lips twist, he inhales — but then straight up pours a handful of candies into his mouth instead. “Uck ou.”

“What?” Dazai frowns. “I don’t speak full mouth.”

“Guf,” the guy mumbles, around his agressive chewing before turning on his heel.

Dazai finds himself

watching the guy leave. He just stands there and questions whether this was really the same person whose music Dazai listened to everyday while he studied.

He just... didn’t seem to fit the part.

But how many people on this street had that hair? There couldn’t have been many.