Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sky is typically described with the essence of beauty in most introductions to any novel, thick cotton clouds, dawn painting the world in hues of orange as the sun awakens from its deep slumber. But not in this story, Y/n L/n has simply had it with the sky, it was the beginning of September and yet there was no glimpse of the sun, just a bunch of grey clouds that have been weeping since midnight until this time in the morning.

The logical claim is to assume that umbrellas were a quick solution to such an inconvenience, however, Y/n did not have one in his possession. All he had was a big luggage barely holding it together with all the things he’d stuffed inside it with disregard for organization, his phone that’s been adorning an ancient cracked screen protector for ions now, a half eaten sandwich he had on his train ride here, and very little of his will to live.

Maybe the weather was a clear sign Y/n should have been crying alongside the clouds, as the start of the school year was starting to feel more real now that the tall, antique structures of Yokohama’s prestigious Bungou Boarding Academy loomed over him like a punishment for daring to freely contribute to oxygen consumption. It only now occurred to him that yes, he will, in fact, be spending another year in this pit of educational torture.

The scene hasn’t changed since Y/n’s first day the prior year, the massive vine covered limestone buildings, the students greeting each other after a long summer break, the porch steps to hell… ah yes, same old. Y/n sighed miserably under the drizzling rain, took the last bite of his sandwich, and began to drag his luggage inside.

As soon as he stepped foot into the main entrance hall, he could feel how cold the marble floors were even through his shoe soles. The marble stretched to the pedestals of the spiraling columns standing in a uniform half circle in the back of the room, where towering shelves of books lined between them surrounding a single, massive desk that sat in the middle.

Y/n walked up to one of the three receptionists that worked behind that desk, Miss Haruno was the only one he actually bothered to remember the name of, the other two were mean old hags that Y/n one hundred percent was planning on tormenting so long as he existed in this institution. Miss Haruno’s brown hair perfectly sat on her shoulders as she was bent over her laptop, somehow a smile on her face despite the aggressive typing she seems to be busy with.

Seeing this, Y/n happily leaned over the desk with a smile of his own, “Hey, Miss Haruno! Look who’s back to give you a headache,” smiling proudly at his statement and the fact that Miss Haruno actually looked up with excitement, he gladly took the hand she offered for a handshake. “Ah, Y/n, I’m really glad to see you again! How was the break?”

“Not long enough.” Y/n huffed with a frown that quite literally turned upside down as dramatic classical music started to play in his mind when Miss Haruno pulled out a container filled with, what he assumed were homemade, chocolate chip cookies and offered him to take one, “here, I made a bunch yesterday.”

“You’re a gift from God himself, Miss Haruno, you can officially have my soul for this.” Miss Haruno rolled her eyes behind her glasses at that, but her grin widened as Y/n placed a hand over his heart theatrically and took a cookie like it was an offering.

Gently tucking away the container, Miss Haruno finally adjusts her seat and opens her laptop again. “So, what can I do for you?”

Y/n has to take a moment to remember what he was even here for, these days he felt like his attention span was waning by the minute, but then again Y/n was morbidly bad at numbers (unsurprising considering his abysmally atrocious math grades,) so he could barely remember what his new dorm room number was until he wringed out his hippocampus for it. “Uh, I was looking to pick up my new dorm keys?”

“Oh, right away then!” It didn’t take Miss Haruno long to find his new key after he’d told her the room number, pointing him to exit the building left towards the dormitories.

Before leaving, Y/n saluted Miss Haruno, and at the accidental eye contact with one of the old hags beside her, he stuck out his tongue and rushed out of the building before he could serve a life sentence for ‘misbehavior’.

On his way to the dorms (which, to his dismay, it was still raining), he passed a few clusters of students in the school gardens where he masked his jealousy at the fact that they were smart enough to carry umbrellas. He ended up having to wave at a few confident faces he was not that familiar with but had to pretend to recognize anyway to avoid the embarrassment of having to ask where he knew them from again.

It didn’t take that long to reach the dorms, four buildings huddled together on the right corner of campus, each dedicated to one of the four year groups. Finding the Sophomore building was easy, not only because it was right beside the Freshmen one he used to reside in prior, but because he doubted anyone will ever forget The Incident that occurred in it the year before. Actually, just thinking about it made Y/n giggle audibly, ignoring the weird side glance he received from a random girl.

The luggage Y/n was dragging was finally starting to piss him off, not to mention his hair and jacket being slightly soaked with rain water now, which is why he was extra thankful when he reached his dorm. He glanced one last time at the number etched on the door, B-666, and finally knocked.

Despite having a key, he assumed it would be way too awkward, and absolutely weird, to unlock the door and walk into a room he was told already had a few students he would be rooming with. So he decided to save himself the social ridicule and simply wait for someone to open the door for him, which he now was starting to doubt being the right decision when he heard a high pitched scream on the other side of the door, muffled voices that seemed to be arguing, followed by a loud thud of what was most likely something making painful contact with the ground.

Y/n took a deep breath to maintain a neutral expression when he eventually started hearing the doorknob being fiddled with. In a flourish, the door was yanked open so fast Y/n was sure he would have missed it if he blinked. He took a quick look at the taller boy that opened the door (more like broke it off its hinges but whatever.) He had a long white braid being held together by a very noticeably fluffy red pompom, and what looked to be a white medical eyepatch covered his right eye whereas his visible left eye was a greyish-blue color with an even more noticeable scar running down the middle of it.

In summary, the boy looked strange, or maybe that is an insult to the said adjective, so more like eccentric. Nevertheless, Y/n was never one to judge, he himself wasn’t the most normal person out there, so he simply brushed the bizarreness aside.

“Oh hi there, roomie! Welcome to hell! You came here just in time for a pop quiz! So, question one, who might I be?” The boy’s grin was so wide that Y/n almost decided that yeah, actually, maybe he should judge. Or better yet pray, because this is the person he’ll be sharing a room with.

Wonderful.

Y/n raised an eyebrow and made the decision to play along, why you may ask? Well, he wasn’t one to turn down entertainment, so he placed an exaggerated hand on his chin in what was supposed to be a thinking motion. “Uh, you’re my roommate, right?”

The boy clapped his hands together and giggled proudly. “Correct! Now, what is my name?” Before Y/n could get the chance to even reply, the boy gasped loudly, “did you say Nikolai Gogol? Correct again, roomie! Wow, you’re really good at this, you know?”

Ok, Y/n was starting to question his life choices for the third time in the single few seconds he’s been in the presence of this Nikolai Gogol kid. Albeit, when is Y/n not questioning his choices? Besides, he was actually starting to like him.

“Well, Nikolai, I’m Y/n L/n,” he said with a smile that matched Nikolai’s own.

A sudden voice from inside the room cut the conversation short before it could make any more progress, this time it was a calmer voice, one that seemed to be fed up more than anything else. “Nikolai, stop being a pest and just let him in.”

In response, Nikolai rolled his eyes and imitated the sentence under his breath in a very much mocking tone but otherwise didn’t protest, he moved aside to let Y/n walk in and surprisingly was nice enough (Y/n wasn’t sure if the gesture is rightfully described as nice, Nikolai already seemed like the type of person to have hidden intentions behind everything) to take the heavy luggage from Y/n’s hand before shutting the door behind them.

Inside, Y/n was met with two other boys, which he was a bit surprised by since the school tended to avoid allowing more than three people to dorm together. The first boy was sitting at one of the four desks lined against the adjacent wall to the door’s right, black hair long enough to barely brush his shoulders, he seemed to be too engrossed in a book he was reading to even bother looking up. The other boy was sitting on the carpet in the middle of the room, the one Y/n guessed was responsible for Nikolai’s mood swing just now, and he looked like he was putting together some kind of bookshelf – struggling to do so, might he add, if the way he was glaring at the manual was anything to go by.

“Ugh, Sigma, you’re such a party pooper! Can’t a guy have a little bit of fun these days?” The boy, Sigma, simply sighed and pushed his very long two toned hair behind his shoulder, “I didn’t say don’t have fun, I said don’t disturb people.”

“Those two things are pretty much synonymous.” Y/n was quick to say, because yes, he did gain his own doses of serotonin from annoying others to death, it was a hobby, one he was extremely good at if he did say so himself.

Sigma sighed again, Y/n now knows that it must be a frequent reaction from him. “Please don’t encourage him. I’m Sigma, by the way, that over there,” he pointed a finger towards the reading boy who has so far been completely silent, “is Fyodor Dostoevsky. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Y/n ignored the way Nikolai had tossed his luggage onto what seemed to be the empty lower bunk out of the two bunk beds in the room and was now occupying himself with opening it, Y/n didn’t really mind, whatever was wrong with Nikolai had already somehow found a way to grow on him. Instead, he focused on Sigma. “The pleasure is mine, although, what exactly is it you’re doing?”

“Trying to build this bookshelf we got from Ikea, Fyodor and I have way too many books to keep organized, so we figured we might as well.” Being reminded of the task he was doing seemed to bring Sigma even more distress, but before Y/n could even have the courtesy to offer a helping hand, Nikolai was gasping loudly again and holding up an item Y/n had stuffed in his bag the night before. It was a massive box of gummy candies because Y/n will shamelessly admit he has an unhealthy sugar addiction.

“Treasure!” Nikolai exclaimed happily. That explains why he took the luggage then.

“How many times do we have to talk about the difference between robbery and finding treasure?” Sigma groaned and gave Y/n an apologetic look, one Y/n waved off quickly. “I always come prepared, he can have it, there are at least three more of those somewhere in there.”

Nikolai was already munching on the candy anyway, so the consent didn’t even matter much. “You’re officially my favorite roommate! Hear that, Fedya? Y/n took your place in five minutes!” Nikolai wiggled his eyebrows in Fyodor’s direction as if to try and steal his attention.

Fyodor, with his gaze still on his book, rolled his eyes. “That’s splendid, Nikolai.”

Y/n finally sat down on the carpet across from Sigma, snatching the instructions manual from his lap to take a look at it himself. “Oh, I meant to ask, doesn’t the school have a rule, or something, for a maximum of three people in each dorm? How come there’s four of us?”

Sigma was smiling sheepishly for the first time now, gesturing a thumb at Fyodor once again. “I’m actually not supposed to be here, I’m a freshman, Fyodor can just be a bit too… persuasive, sometimes.” Now that was interesting, and thinking about it, very useful. Y/n wasn’t about to miss out on the opportunity that was literally serving itself on a silver platter in front of him. “Hey, Fyodor?”

Ultimately, Fyodor found himself looking up and raising a questioning eyebrow in Y/n’s direction which the latter took as his sign to continue speaking. “Is this persuasion talent of yours any good at talking me out of the many detentions I am most certainly destined to receive?”

Fyodor seemed to find some part of that at least slightly amusing, if the upwards tilt of his lips was anything to go off of. He closed his book and seemed to be analysing Y/n himself rather than searching for an answer to his question. “Depends.”

“On what?” Y/n grinned.

“...Benefit.”

“Well, congrats! You just booked yourself a non-refundable, permanent ticket for involvement in all my future evil schemes on terrorizing this school.”

Fyodor…somehow smiled.

Chapter Text

Waking up in the ass crack of dawn to a sound akin to the purge siren is 10/10 the worst event one could possibly experience. Not only did Y/n wake up thinking his time was finally up and that he was heading back to the Lord, but his earlobes have also never suffered such brutal abuse in their lives. 

Add that on top of the fact that it was the morning of the first proper day of school, Y/n easily ranked this day in the top five worst days of his life. 

A loud dismayed groan to his left compelled Y/n to ultimately open his eyes and search for the culprit of this assault against his senses. He turned his head and made eye contact with a very much unsettled Sigma who had both hands covering his ears, his hair was somehow still in a put together bun even after long hours of sleep. 

Everything about Sigma’s reaction was very much reasonable, but what genuinely confused Y/n was the fact that Fyodor, on the bunk below Sigma’s, was still perfectly asleep and undisturbed despite the alarm that was still blaring in the background (though Y/n was pretty sure it would probably be more accurate to say they were the ones in the alarm’s background due to how loud it was.)

Nonetheless, it was obvious to Y/n that neither of them were the ones to set the alarm.

“Make it shut the fuck up before I lose my-” Sigma shoved his face back into his pillow were his words were muffled, attempting to block out the noise, which was pretty much futile. Y/n decided that if he did not want his life to get any worse, he’d have to get up and shut it off himself.

After cursing at Nikolai under his breath at least seven times, Y/n eventually dragged himself out of bed and climbed the ladder of his shared bunk with Nikolai, only to find that the alarm was being blasted right beside Nikolai’s ear and yet he had the audacity to still be enjoying his dreams. 

Turning the alarm off with a single tap on Nikolai’s phone, Y/n decided that revenge was absolutely necessary. “Be the bigger person” good people would say, but Y/n wasn’t ‘good people’. He reached back down to his own bed to grab his pillow, and with one devastating swing, Y/n slammed it against Nikolai’s face without remorse, “Wake up, dickhead!”

The loud scream Nikolai let out when he jolted into a sitting position was one of the most satisfying things Y/n could have been rewarded with after such a disgusting morning. 

“What was that for?!” Nikolai yelled back, holding his now red nose. Y/n didn’t please him with a reply, instead he swung the pillow back and smacked Nikolai in the face again, which the latter couldn’t avoid with the lingering confusion slowing his reaction time. 

Only now could Y/n say he was in a positive mood once more.

Ignoring Nikolai’s whiny complaints about roommate abuse or whatever, Y/n found himself smiling and quite literally plunging back into his mattress with enough skill to put olympic divers to shame. He was aware of the fact that, despite being heart attack inducing, Nikolai’s alarm was unfortunately correct to wake them up at the current moment if they wanted to make it to breakfast on time. 

Y/n, of course, did want to get himself a proper breakfast before the inevitable classes he’d have to attend in a few hours, otherwise the hunger will slowly descend his mental state into unstable madness. That did not, however, stop Y/n from wrapping himself up in his blanket and closing his eyes in hopes of getting more sleep.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed so very determined to spoil his peace. The bunkbed, and quite frankly the whole room, was experiencing a Nikolai-generated earthquake as the boy scrambled out of his sheets in the top bunk, and instead of climbing down like a sensible, normal roommate, he jumped down from the bed and plummeted to the ground where he, fortunately for everyone but himself, didn’t land as graciously as he hoped. Though, he still managed to stand up with more optimism than necessary. 

Y/n didn’t even have the time to say something to make fun of the fall before he found himself face to face with a flying Nikolai, and in a dreadful millisecond realization, Y/n knew he was the boy’s landing point. (For dignity purposes, Y/n so didn’t scream.)

The moment Nikolai made a very painful impact with Y/n, he started giggling proudly as he purposefully used his weight to maximize inconvenience. 

“Ugh, get off!”

Sigma, who somehow disappeared in the middle of their conflict with little concern for what would happen to either of them, walks out of their shared bathroom now fully dressed in his school uniform, clothes perfectly ironed, hair perfectly combed and styled, staring them down with a raised eyebrow. “If you are both done being children, I suggest you start getting ready should you care to get some food.”

With that said, and no regard for whether or not they actually listen to his advice, Sigma makes his way over to where Fyodor was still asleep. Just then, Y/n thought that it would be a brilliant idea to take notes from Fyodor on how he manages to sleep just fine through the ruckus.

Besides that, the mention of food seemed to actually motivate Nikolai to get up from on top of Y/n and start digging through his closet for his own uniform.

Seeing that Nikolai is being more productive than him made Y/n finally get up as well. His belongings were still stacked together in the luggage he declared himself too lazy to empty out after they’d all come back from dinner the night before. Although, it was still easy to find his school uniform through the mess and rush to the bathroom before Nikolai, who seemed to have gotten too preoccupied with his own reflection in the mirror, could notice. 

Within a few minutes, Y/n was out looking no less than half as tidy as Sigma because, believe it or not, Y/n did in fact care about looking presentable enough to exist without judging gazes. His hair was brushed back, most of his bangs tucked behind his ears while the rest fell over his forehead as they always did, and despite the dress code rules against jewelry, he had decided to keep all five of his silver rings on. 

That brings him to lesson one on school terrorism: Small acts of rebellion pave the way for bigger ones. 

After a dreadfully long half an hour of Nikolai singing Timber and Fyodor mumbling things in Russian under his breath to presumably avoid cussing, the four of them finally made their way out of the sophomore dorms. After the long rain from yesterday, the sky had cleared up entirely, leaving behind the sombre filter the world had on as if it was some tragic medieval fantasy. 

Now, Y/n could think of a few unkind words he would like to say to the architect that designed this school, mainly because the cafeteria was all the way on the other side of campus which made it a whole 10 minute walk from the dorms. That thought, however, was quickly discarded when they finally got to the cafeteria and were met with the smell of freshly made pancakes.

Y/n would, without a regret or doubt in his mind, sell Nikolai right now for some of those.

Speaking of Nikolai, Y/n hadn’t noticed the boy leaning in to whisper in his ear until he heard his hushed voice, laced with a snicker, warm against his ear as he pointed at Fyodor standing a few meters in front of them near the start of the queue, picking up an empty tray. “I bet you ten thousand yen Fyodor will get some of the cremating cheese.” 

Y/n tilted his head to take a look at the “cremating cheese” and found himself eyeing an ancient rotting pile of yellow slime that he was sure, if not just explicitly told otherwise, he would have guessed was a newly discovered virus in its natural form and habitat. Y/n shuddered and shook his head, turning to whisper back to Nikolai, “yeah right, twenty thousand on Fyodor being a normal human being.”

~~~

Fyodor was not a normal human being. And Y/n was in a bad mood all over again. 

Having lost twenty thousand yen to Nikolai of all people, and now standing at the doorway to his first lesson of the day, chemistry, only added to his misery. The one thing keeping him going as of this minute was the long break he gets away from all three of his roommates. Not that he hated them, not at all actually, it's just that two of those roommates were the cause of his bankruptcy over cheese. And the third did nothing to stop it. So yeah, a break was nice.

Besides, this class was one of the few he shared with all members of a certain group of students he met in freshman year. Y/n took a single glance at his phone screen to read the time, because no, he will not be walking into class even a single second earlier than required. They say time is a valuable thing after all.

The moment the clock hit 8:00am and he could hear the distant ring of the school bell, Y/n finally opened the door and walked into the half full class. It seems that the teacher himself was running a bit late, which alone is a great thing.

Looking around the room, Y/n found two of his targets sitting, more than predictably, in the back of the class beside the windows. It was always the perfect spot for avoiding any teacher’s piercing attention. Mentally, Y/n thanked them for reserving the back of the class for the rest of the year, that is assuming (pleading) that the teacher doesn’t, at any point during the year, cook up the most viciously heinous seating plan known to mankind.

Y/n sat at the desk that was very kindly saved for him, although, neither one of the two sitting beside him noticed his arrival due to the silence that had taken over the atmosphere. A Cheshire smirk on one face was being met with a confused panic that quickly turned into the deadliest of glares. 

Y/n could tell that the reason behind the currently silent stand-off that was very obviously about to turn into a full blown argument was because Dazai had apparently taken it upon himself to use scissors and, one way or another while Chuuya was distracted, cut off a chunk of Chuuya’s orange hair. That same lock of hair Dazai was currently waving around like a trophy to provoke Chuuya even further.

It was routine to find these two arguing, in fact, it was probably more of a miracle to ever see them getting along, and, with Y/n taking his job as a professional instigator very seriously, he knew he just had to intervene and make matters worse. 

“Chuuya, I wouldn’t let that slide if I were you.” Y/n said, watching as both of them suddenly realized that he somehow manifested in the seat beside them. However, that seemed to be all the motivation Chuuya needed to snap out of his initial confusion and managed to jump up and easily deck Dazai to the ground with a single blow to the head.

“Ow! Chibi, you’re such a cold-hearted friend! Both of you are so mean-”  

Chuuya, fed up with the victim mindset (as he should be), yanked Dazai closer by the collar of his uniform, “shut it, Mackerel! Touch my hair again and I’ll slit your throat myself!” 

“Your hair needs a good trim anyway. I just did you a favor, you should be thanking me like a good dog.” That was Chuuya’s final straw, the shorter boy was only a few seconds away from delivering another punch to Dazai’s stupid pouting face before someone came bursting through the classroom door. 

Y/n grinned as the icon, the savior, the queen herself, Akiko Yosano, came speed walking into the class, her hair styled into an elegant half up fishtail braid that was held together by her signature golden butterfly pin. “Guys, sit down, Mori’s coming.” She announced as she rushed over to the desk right in front of Y/n’s with a quick reciprocating wave.

Those last two words alone got all 27 students in the class, including Chuuya and Dazai, rushing to sit in their seats in complete silence. Ougai Mori, their chemistry teacher, was one of Y/n’s favorite teachers, and yet the man was simultaneously the scariest person he’d ever met. But that is what made his classes even more entertaining.

As Yosano had warned, only a moment later, the classroom door was opened slowly in a way that reminded Y/n of the few seconds in a horror movie before a jumpscare.

Instead of a jumpscare, the class was met with Mori’s passively sweet smile, which was as close to a jumpscare as they could get. The older man’s eyes swept over the faces of the students before making his way over to his own desk. “Well, good morning to you all.” His smooth voice cut through the room like a hot knife through butter in an almost comforting way.

Dazai, though, rolled his eyes (an indicator to his deceased attention span) and started scribbling on a stray piece of paper he had on his desk. The bandaged boy waited until Mori turned his back to the class to dig through his bag for his laptop. Using that single moment of distraction, Dazai slid the paper onto Yosano’s desk with practiced ease.

Y/n watched as the girl eyed the paper with a quick glance, her face contorting into a laugh that she held back with a deep breath, her face quickly changing back to a normal expression the moment Mori turned back to the class. “Alright, children, we’ll start with a quick recap of last year’s material for this lesson. Since this information should be chiseled into your brains by now, any mistakes in this lesson and the whole class gets four pages of homework.” 

Great, five minutes into their first lesson and the class is already receiving the closest thing to a death threat that Mori could give them, but frankly, Y/n had to respect the cruelty.

As Mori began the lesson, Chuuya kept shooting Dazai dirty looks every time he tried to bother him without their teacher noticing, either by dismembering Chuuya’s pens, scribbling over his paper, or quite literally kicking his chair. Y/n had to give it to Chuuya, the boy must have developed the type of patience described in Fyodor’s bible just by being in Dazai’s vicinity. 

Y/n’s thoughts are cut off immediately when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket with a series of notifications. He felt so grateful he had remembered to silence his phone before class, otherwise Mori would have publicly crucified him. 

At that moment, it felt like Y/n was risking his life by taking his phone out of his pocket to check his notifications (that were still going off like crazy) but he did it anyway because what is life without a bit of thrill and self sacrifice? Opening his lockscreen, he found sixteen consecutive notifications from a group chat he doesn’t remember joining. Y/n glanced up to make sure Mori wasn’t staring daggers into his soul before opening the said chat.

The group name, “Satan’s Servants 😛”, was the first thing that caught Y/n’s attention because, believe it or not, the last time he checked he did not join a satanic cult. There were only three other numbers, all unknown, and somehow all actively texting. It took Y/n about ten seconds to realize these were his roommates because the first text he laid eyes on said ‘the morning alarm shall become our cult ritual.’

Honestly, Y/n was not even surprised by that, what was more absurd to him right now was the fact that, in some way, those three had gotten their hands on Y/n’s phone number despite the fact that he had not shared it with any of them yet.

Y/n gave a quick glance up at the board where Mori was writing…was it roman or morse code? No, he’s explaining the atomic structure of periodic table elements. But whatever the hell that even means was a problem for future Y/n. So he turned back to his phone and typed a quick message. ‘Where tf did u get my number 😀?’

The response was almost immediate. ‘Ugh, don’t you know that it’s rude to ask a clown to reveal their tricks 🙄’ 

Followed by, ‘I was not aware that we were in a circus.’

Ok, so that’s obviously Nikolai and Sigma. Y/n quickly saved their number as “Ronald McDonald 🤡” and “Ligma :)” and just knowing that the third number was obviously Fyodor’s, Y/n ended up saving it as “Rat.”

A significant and well earned name after he’d been the reason Y/n lost a bet over cheese to Nikolai of all people.

Yeah, Y/n was absolutely satisfied with those names. Fyodor, who seemed to have also finally noticed his phone being bombed, started typing too, ‘What even is this group chat's name exactly?’ 

Ronald McDonald 🤡 – ‘Satan’s Servants? Couldn’t get more accurate than that I’m afraid 😔✊’ 

Rat. – ‘The name is unacceptable’

Ronald McDonald 🤡 – ‘Oh? well it’s staying! it will grow on u Fedya trust me :D’

Ligma :) – ‘the last time u said that shit was when u had a cannibalistic pet fish’

Ronald McDonald 🤡 – ‘ur point? 🙄’

Ligma :) – ‘I…’

Rat. – ‘It is unacceptable because why exactly would I serve Satan if Satan serves me?’ 

Y/n was starting to feel like this whole day, since the moment he woke up, was a fever dream. This was only proven further when Y/n looked up and saw that his classmates were actually copying onto their notebooks what Mori was writing on the whiteboard (he would absolutely believe it could be rocket science.)

‘um… So no one is going to tell me how tf u got my number? 🤨’ 

Ronald McDonald 🤡 – ‘Dw about it :3’

Ligma :) – ‘no, definitely worry.’

Rat. – ‘...I loathe computer science lessons at an astronomical level.’

Ligma :) – ‘poor old man can't figure out how to use technology’

Ronald McDonald 🤡 – ‘💀💀’

Well, Y/n wasn’t even going to try getting the answer anymore. Discarding his phone to the side of the table, where the texting only continued, Y/n decided to at least pretend to know what this class was about, because if this was a recap lesson, then he was deep fried for the rest of the year. So with little determination, Y/n picked up his pen and began writing. 

Time flew by quicker than expected, everything was going smoothly, and maybe that should have been the first sign that something terrible was about to happen because when has Y/n’s life ever gone by smoothly? Before the bell could ring, Mori turned around with a wicked smile. “We’ll start the next lesson with a group project, so get yourselves into groups of three or four before then. Otherwise, you’re dismissed.” 

Did Y/n say he liked Mori? Yeah, actually, scratch that. 

At the mention of a group project and free will to choose partners, Dazai turned towards Y/n. “Hey, dumb furcifer, wanna group together?” 

Oh, how much Y/n hated that nickname. He had to admit, the lore behind it was actually quite funny. Long story short, Dazai, Chuuya, and Yosano had given him that nickname towards the end of their first year after landing himself a weekend of detention from Hirotsu for saying his fake pet, a furcifer chameleon, ate his homework. 

Ever since then, the three have made it their ultimate mission to never let Y/n live down his horribly lame attempt at conjuring up an excuse for being a lazy bastard.

Y/n gave Dazai a pressed smile, “yeah, stupid mackerel, you’re so my first choice for a group project. No thanks.” Turning away from Dazai’s fake offense and the snickering coming from Chuuya, Y/n gave Yosano a knowing side-eye that she was already giving him. With a dramatic sigh, Y/n reached over and took Yosano’s hand, “best of wives and best of women, will you share my suffering through this project?”

Yosano placed her other hand over her heart, “I thought you’d never ask, it would be an honor to lose my sanity with you.” 

Chuuya sighed loudly despite the small smile on his face and stood up, tossing his backpack over his shoulder. “I’m going to my next class, I’ll see you guys later, yeah?” For good measure, Chuuya kicked the chair Dazai was still seated on just for payback. Y/n sent a final peace sign Chuuya’s way, which the latter had effortlessly returned before he left the classroom. 

Now it was Dazai’s turn to be obnoxious again, so he had his arms crossed in a good attempt at looking upset, “You choose Chuuya over me? Y/n, I thought we were friends, you know?” 

“I mean, Mori did say three or four people per group, so technically we don’t need your dumbass fucking up the project.” Of course, Y/n didn’t actually mean that, it was simply just to annoy Dazai. They didn’t actually need to discuss partners because it has always been and will be the four of them doing everything together no matter how many arguments they pretend to take seriously.

The three were quick to pack their things back into their bags and found themselves wondering the hallways together but, unfortunately, Y/n didn’t share the next class with the two of them, so at the next hallway, they traded ‘see you later’s before Yosano ended up taking Dazai by the arm and dragging him to their psychology lesson.

Y/n, on the other hand, was sentenced to a business and economics class with Fitzgerald. The man was one of the more chill teachers when it came to arrival time, so Y/n took a quick moment to open his phone again, only to be met with another series of texts from the new group chat with his roommates.

Ronald McDonald 🤡 – ‘GUYS HELP-’

Ligma :) – ‘Gogol, pls stfu.’

Rat. – ‘^^’

Ronald McDonald 🤡 – ‘NO GUYS SERIOUSLY-’

Ronald McDonald 🤡 – ‘I THINK THE BATHROOM ON THE THIRD FLOOR IS CURSED’

Ronald McDonald 🤡 – ‘DOES ANYONE KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT EXORCISM? 😃’

Well…Y/n was starting to debate if Fitzgerald would care too much if he suddenly took a detour route to his lesson that conveniently allowed Y/n to pass by the third floor bathroom.

Only one way to find out. 

‘Sounds like a fun side quest, im omw 👀’