The point to all existence. The incurable human condition that only death’s sweet release can cure. Was the very reason for this precarious situation he found himself in.
The endless tedious momentum of the same routine every day, every hour, right down to the millisecond has left him here in this particular moment gawking at the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
Beauty had never transcendent time until this moment. This exact moment, this very second, he knew. Dazai Osamu, Boss of the Port Mafia was royally fucked .
And it was all Oda’s fault.
Dazai moaned, rolling his head from side to side. Mountains of paperwork sat cluttered on his mahogany desk. It was just so dull and tedious. He had already pawned off as much paperwork as he could to his executives. No, what laid on his desk was things only for the Boss’s eyes. Sighing heavily, he smirked before Odasaku’s voice, washed over him like ice.
“No, Dazai. No one to torture this week.”
“Spoil my fun,” he murmured. “It’s so boring .”
“You mentioned the same thing last week when you were torturing,” Oda replied, turning a page in his book with a slight smile.
“Wonder how the river…”
“Ne, Oda I was only joking.” Dazai slumped over his desk, resting his head on his arms.
“What’s going on, Dazai?” Oda said while closing his book with a snap.
“It’s tedious, Odasaku. The same shit over and over and over,” Dazai whined, his voice high pitch as he pushed a pen back and forth.
“Dazai, I know you. You’ve already dealt with whatever those reports say so what’s really going on?”
Dazai sighed heavily, placing his elbows on his desk, cradling his chin. Oda was giving him a look. Dazai recognized that look .
“I don’t know."
Dazai watched Oda eye him critically. He glanced over another report while he waited for Oda to speak his mind.
Oda locked eyes with him and gave a smile. Dazai leaned forward, eager to hear the words that his best friend and confidant would say.
“Dazai, maybe you should date.”
Dazai couldn’t help it. He laughed. How the hell was the boss of the Port Mafia supposed to date?
Dazai wiped his bloody knife on the cloth. Apparently, there had been someone to torture.
It hadn’t taken long. It never did.
He already sent a team to deal with the leftovers. It was pitiful what the upstarts thought they could accomplish.
They never stood a chance.
Dazai slipped his jacket off. He threw his jacket to the lackey behind him and strolled back into his office, rolling his sleeves up. Odasaku was waiting for him, sitting on the black leather couch engrossed in his book. Dazai glanced at the cover and quirked his eyebrow. A murder mystery interesting.
“Odasaku,” Dazai waited for Oda to look at him before giving him a nod. Oda placed a bookmark in his book and took his phone out. Dazai listened to Oda give the commands and plopped down in his chair. He closed his eyes, propping his feet up.
The word was distasteful in his mouth. Would it be worth it? Putting yourself out on the market like a piece of meat?
“You won’t know unless you try, Dazai,” Oda stated, setting his phone down. Dazai looked at Oda startled. He hadn’t realized that he had said that out loud.
Oda walked over to Dazai and leaned over him, pressing a few buttons on his computer. “At least, it won’t be boring.”
Dazai glanced at the screen with a small smile.
Is your dick thick enough for my amazing hands—
"—Dazai, you can’t put that ,” Odasaku scolded, his lips forming a thin line.
Dazai blinked and looked up at his right-hand man with a childish expression. “Ne, Odasaku, why not? Any man would be lucky to be graced with my presence. One of them is bound to have a thic-”
Oda shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.
My ideal date would involve Russian roulette in the river with a redhead man by my side. While we’re there, I’ll evaluate your thick dick, checking that you’re up to my understandably high standards.
Dazai grinned and continued to type. This was all Oda’s fault anyway.