quicksand (Dazai X Reader)

texarcana

“Hi, where do I register to visit a patient?” 

The lady from the reception looked at me like I had just disturbed her from something important even though she was doing nothing at all. With an annoyed face she handed me some forms to indicate who I was visiting and my relation to that person. After filling the blanks with a dry out pen I passed them back to her, she read them with caution, as if trying to find a mistake to call me on, but after no avail she began to type in her computer. 

“Yeah, he can't receive visits today” She said with an uninterested tone, not even looking at me, screen reflecting on her glasses. 

“Um, why not?” I said with a monotone voice, trying to hide my unconformity with the attention that was being given to me. 

“Well, I don't know, it just says so, you can try tomorrow” She says again with an annoyed face. She really needs to find another job. 

“Okay, see you tomorrow” My lips hurt from forming the fakests of smiles before I turned around and disappeared into the hallway. 

The good thing about working for the Armed Detective Agency was that you can do a lot of things that are usually not legal and get away with it. So, stealing a nurse uniform and impersonating one would actually be pretty punishable by law, but I won't even get a slap on the wrist. 

Walking down the corridors with someone else's clothes feels way too natural. Waving and even giving directions to people inside the hospital like it was nothing made me kind of worried. I felt kind of free faking being another person. I don't like that thought. 

Finally, I found the part of the hospital I have been looking for, standing in front of a closed door locked and protected by an unknown combination of numbers. Watching the used electronic padlock wondering what the right code would work. Only four numbers were dirty and the print of the buttons was looking kind of faded, still I didn't have time to try all the possible million combinations, so I stayed in the hallway with a stolen clipboard until a couple of people placed the right numbers and entered through the door. 

Standing again in front of the keypad I mirrored their movements and placed the numbers that I thought were the correct ones, and with a loud beep, I was now walking into the other side of the door with a triumphant smile. 

After a while of casually waving and avoiding glances when I could, finally I found a lonely computer where I could get some information about how Dazai was doing and why he couldn't get any visits today. 

I let out a loud laugh when I saw the reason. It was bad and I shouldn't be giggling but his antics will never cease to amaze me. 

After getting what I wanted I walked into the room he was in, after a light knock I let myself. 

“You know, it's very rude to make your psychiatrist cry” I said in an airy voice, light and kind of humoristic. The room was white, the clean white that makes you want to dirty the walls or throw paint around. 

Dazai was sitting on top of a dresser on the side of the hospital bed, a notepad on his hand and a crayon on his other one. He was facing the window, looking at the clouds while sketching something unknown to me. There was an uncomfortable look on his face, a subtle frown between his eyebrows, a tension on his jawline that was only noticeable when paying close attention, his eyes missing the spark of mischief they always carry.