[Isn't "time" what Dazai's just been afforded? Odasaku doesn't necessarily think that the man is speaking of himself, but it fits, doesn't it? Although he seems aware of all that's come to pass since they first arrived here, his mind is surely in an entirely different place. He's ostensibly had years of pain removed (there is some dissonance, here, that Dazai is as he was in the past, Odasaku's present, but not the future he'd known). It has to be a balm, doesn't it, given all that Dazai has lost? Odasaku might not have considered his own death all that significant before it came to pass, but he remembers that terrible look in his beloved friend's eyes...
[He watches him now, and Odasaku's expression has only just barely shifted, but on a face like his, it looks half-broken open. He nods his head. He gets it, he thinks. Maybe he's wrong. Maybe he's always been wrong, never right about one thing in his life - he's not sure anymore. He's not sure of anything.
[But if fortune is "time," then they've both been given it - Dazai has had time removed, and Odasaku has had more added to the clock. He's grateful. He is...
[And he can't say that he wouldn't allow himself to be robbed, had he the choice. The memories he holds of those children that he loved so deeply are cherished, but, then again, they can't be; holding onto them for even a mere second is so painful that he can't cope. Wouldn't it be better to have that pain removed entirely?
[The truth is, Odasaku's entire life has been built from pain. He's just not good at admitting it - to himself, to anyone. He's not all that good at feeling pain, really. He coped with it for a long enough time, but when all is said and done, twenty-three is awfully young to burn out...
[His throat feels thick and tight. He puts his cigarette between his lips in an effort to control his expression, slowly breathing in. He speaks without exhaling, at first.]
You're right.
[He breathes out the smoke. When he talks, his voice sounds the same as it did when he was still holding it in.]
Anyway you look at it. You're right.
[He looks at Dazai-- He...can't stop looking at him.
[Dazai.
[He realizes all at once that he loves him. Of course he loves him. How couldn't he love him? He always has. He always will.
no subject
[He watches him now, and Odasaku's expression has only just barely shifted, but on a face like his, it looks half-broken open. He nods his head. He gets it, he thinks. Maybe he's wrong. Maybe he's always been wrong, never right about one thing in his life - he's not sure anymore. He's not sure of anything.
[But if fortune is "time," then they've both been given it - Dazai has had time removed, and Odasaku has had more added to the clock. He's grateful. He is...
[And he can't say that he wouldn't allow himself to be robbed, had he the choice. The memories he holds of those children that he loved so deeply are cherished, but, then again, they can't be; holding onto them for even a mere second is so painful that he can't cope. Wouldn't it be better to have that pain removed entirely?
[The truth is, Odasaku's entire life has been built from pain. He's just not good at admitting it - to himself, to anyone. He's not all that good at feeling pain, really. He coped with it for a long enough time, but when all is said and done, twenty-three is awfully young to burn out...
[His throat feels thick and tight. He puts his cigarette between his lips in an effort to control his expression, slowly breathing in. He speaks without exhaling, at first.]
You're right.
[He breathes out the smoke. When he talks, his voice sounds the same as it did when he was still holding it in.]
Anyway you look at it. You're right.
[He looks at Dazai-- He...can't stop looking at him.
[Dazai.
[He realizes all at once that he loves him. Of course he loves him. How couldn't he love him? He always has. He always will.
[And he's been given more time.]
Does that make us lucky? Dazai?
It might. I think so.