A Melody We Were Never Supposed To Hear

Medicine

Artist vs Poet

Some lyrics will be changed to fit the situation

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Dazai POV
I twisted my body to the side, stretching out the kinks that had formed while I had pretended to sleep. Laying down I'd had every intention of actually dozing off once more, but something akin to fear had gripped at my heart with enough wrath to make any attempt at doing so fruitless. By this point I've already been up for close to twenty-four hours, not an uncommon occurrence for me, but annoying enough that I needed to isolate myself before I reverted back to old habits and snapped every little thing that someone did to piss me off. 

The office was empty again when I finally abandoned any delusion that I might actually get any sleep. In days like these I almost missed the mafia, not for any of the reasons that most would think, but because when I was there, I didn't have to watch what I said and play nice. If they saw that I was getting to irritable either Chibi or the boss would come to the correct conclusion that it was from insomnia and slip me something to help with that, neither of them trusting me enough to not overdose if they just gave me the prescription. It was an young back then suddenly waking up after not remembering having fallen asleep, but I missed the sentiment now. 

All of my problems always got worse this time of the year.

When I sat up, my fingers ached for a smoke, alcohol, drugs, anything to take the edge off. But while I could do the last two, the nagging that I would get from Kunikida once he found out would make any result null and void. And I'd already quite the first habit when I was eighteen. 

In some misguided attempt to get me to come back to the Port Mafia, Mori had sent me the prescription for the medicine that he had given me when I was still there, well all of the prescriptions from back then it had just been the only one that he knew I would actually care about since all any of the others did was fuck with me head. I'd brought the note with me today in a desperate play to not revert back to the monster that I had been before, it felt like a physical weight in my pocket despite only being paper.

Going to my desk, I pulled the next file towards me and pulled up YouTube again before starting in on it. I hadn't missed the small light that had come to the blond detective's eyes when he saw that a dent had been made in the stack after coming back to the office, nor did I miss the way that the dent had magically disappeared even as the same file remained on top but new ones were on the bottom. I hadn't said anything and let the man believe what he wanted about it all because I knew that any remark that I made would be to out of character for the man that everyone had grown used to seeing. 

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3rd person nonspecific/ switching POV

Yosano didn't know what to think when she'd gotten a call from one of the Agency's junior members the day before during their lunch break telling her not that someone was dying and needed her brand of help, but that Dazai of all people was singing in the office during lunch while working. She couldn't decide what surprised her more, the actually doing paperwork thing, something that he is notorious for hating and avoiding at all cost, or that what he was singing wasn't even his suicide song, but something else entirely. 

She couldn't help but be concerned when she'd heard what the song was about, what it had suggested about her coworker. Everyone knew that he used to be a member of the Port Mafia, it hadn't been a secret since Atsushi had joined the Agency and ran into Akutugawa all those months ago during his first case. The only person that they had kept it from had been Kunikida, an unanimous decision made by everyone in the Agency, even the President, since no one had thought that he would respond well to the news under normal circumstances. She hadn't been all that surprised when she had heard the news for the first time, not after seeing the looks that the man would sometimes get on his face, the way that his eyes went impossibly dull as her's had once been, or a cruel suggestion would come out of the detective's mouth that he hadn't yet at the time learned wasn't quite normal behavior.