[Oda might struggle to pick up on someone's mood even with obvious changes in expression, but when it comes to Dazai, somehow, he's learned to pick up on the subtle things.
[Dazai is ever the crying child Oda first said he was. It's heartbreaking in that way that you can only allow something to be heartbreaking for a few seconds at a time. Who doesn't want peace for a dear friend? Dazai suffers. Oda knows he does.]
I'd have trouble answering that question. [His voice is quiet, thoughtful.]
Suppose...I've never thought all that much about happiness itself. I made it through day to day just fine most of the time. Maybe I figure that's all you can really ask for.
[Something occurs to him, and he falls quiet for another moment.]
[ He taps his temple, letting his arm rest over his eyes, covering out the light as he lays with his knees up. One rocks back and forth, starting to fall to the side before he brings it back up to click against the other. ]
The world doesn't really exist in the way that we think it does. Humans just developed sensory input in a way that allows the brain to piece together our own world. There are pieces of the world that we can't interact with, and there are things that don't match our perception of them.
[ Which isn't to say that there is no reality or descend into solipsism and nihilism, but rather at once an addition and a counterpoint to his previous assertion. People can be happy in a fake world. They can be happy in a dream world. They can be happy because the two aren't all that different.
It's academic jargon, but it is a way of affirming Odasaku's words. This isn't quite the world he yearns for most; it's too unstable, too erratic, something that he can't control and protect. It's one where everything can still be taken from him. But it's one where he can live.
He'd never thought about happiness all that much either. It seemed inconsequential to him. Dazai's life was always just Dazai's life; empty, gray, painful.
Dazai pauses to to collect his thoughts. Odasaku can't match Dazai's level of intellect and cunning any better than anyone else, but he's sharp; he's perceptive, one of the few people who have been able to so thoroughly trick Dazai, with a high perception and level of emotional intelligence that Dazai could never hope to match. It sometimes felt like Odasaku could perceive Dazai's feelings better than Dazai himself could ever hope to.
Dazai is a crying child; he's a lost child who finally found his house; he's a twenty-two year old boy who was far too intelligent to be able to interact with the world - a fact that he's leaned into more than away from. ]
I had a nice dream recently, [ He lifts his arm back up, gesturing vaguely, though his gaze stays on the ceiling, ] I didn't think that was possible for me anymore, it's been so many years.
[ There's a bubbling little laugh. It's pleasant, affectionate. Though it wasn't quite a dream either. He still hasn't seen a real one; there's only nightmares. There's only a moment in time, a memory, played on an endless loop - reach, grasp, find his grip empty; a red stain on his palm that blurs in and out of focus, the faint smell of smoke and the resounding silence, followed by a sound that he only recognizes after some time to be his own stifled sobs.
Not quite a dream, but just as ethereal and fleeting. ]
[Oda listens. He listens to Dazai talk and dream and laugh. He spends every night, now, listening to Dazai.
[It makes him sad. It makes him happy. He doesn't feel lonely anymore. There's guilt. He's glad that Dazai's here. He's glad that he's not alone. He's glad that he has someone near who cares enough to put a bandage on his brow.
[His heart swells with woeful affection. He finds himself sitting on the ground with his back pressed up against the couch. He reaches onto the table and takes a pack of cigarettes to light up; offers one to Dazai, as is only polite.]
Let's do what we said. Let's explore this world.
There's no more reason to go anywhere else. You said so yourself.
[Maybe Dazai isn't meant for happiness, but he can have something. If he likes this place, and he wants to stay here, he can have that, at least. He should.]
If you say it like that, I'm going to start to think you've mistaken me for a pitiful person. It was a glimpse into a world where everyone was happy... The Boss retired and became the head of an orphanage. You might not understand it, but he never really wanted to be the Boss. Akutagawa-kun found someone who could teach him patience. Ango never really changed. And you...
[ He takes the cigarette and taps the top of Odasaku's head with his index finger. ]
... Never had to join the Port Mafia.
[ There's others too, but none that Odasaku would know. He passes over them as readily as he does himself. Dazai doesn't smoke, but he fiddles with the cigarette.
He speaks of the world with a genuine affection, something that fills his entire heart; the words are as warm and gentle as a summer breeze. He lolls his head to finally look at the other, his gaze not quite matching his tone; there's that emptiness that always seems to find its way back to him which mingles with that softness.He rolls onto his side shortly after, dropping the pillow behind him and instead folding one arm to use as a pillow instead.
It's the life that he has now which changed that world's trajectory. Sometimes, that's enough for him to feel like his life has some meaning. ]
... I'm happy that a world like that exists. From the bottom of my heart, I'm glad I was able to see it.
[ Though maybe it's pointless to share any of this. It's difficult to understand and easy to dismiss, as are all things with him. It's easier yet to miss what's buried beneath those feelings - that bitter jealousy and resentment for having been born in this world and not that one,for only being able to yearn and want, things that mingle with but can't trump the comfort of just knowing it exists; his love for that world, imprinted on him, a dream that hasn't fully faded away yet; a world that he wants others to love, for it's a miracle that it exists.
[It's a surprisingly sentimental dream, Oda thinks. Dazai even thought up something for the boss to do. Maybe it shouldn't be so surprising. Dazai's version of a happy ending may be a strange one, but he talks about them often enough.
[Something brings Oda's awareness to the beating of his own heart, though it's meant to be still. It's one of those moments where Dazai's presence is such that one has no choice but to hang onto every word. There's weight to them. Oda can tell. He wants to know everything that Dazai's thinking. He always wants to know what he's thinking.
[ It is a strange one. It's stranger yget for how much he resents Mori and Ango. He hasn't forgiven them; he'll never forgive them, but he knows them. He doesn't care enough, but he does care. It's emotion after emotion that tangles itself up, feelings that choke each other out, and in the end he settles on that they each have their use.
He hesitates, his mouth opening and closing, expression shifting several times and his gaze darting about. It's nerves, and it's hesitation, but more than that it's just a simple inability to find the words.
He's had so long to find them. He's had four long years of sitting next to an empty barstool or at a grave. Valentine's Day would come and he'd brag about how many chocolates he'd gotten before toasting. Christmas. New Years. Days say with his back against a tombstone.
He never learned how to move on past simple yearning. There was never any opportunity. After some thought he pushes himself up, opting to join him on the floor. Dazai speaks as he does so, ]
You were right. It is better being on the side that saves people. I like it better, and I decided to become a good man, but... The truth is...
[ He settles down, reaching up and brushing his fingertips against the bandage on his head, fingers lighting tracing down his temple, near the eye; one that he'd lack the ability to see out of in another life. ]
... I could never really manage it. I'm the most selfish man alive.
[ He's watching, searching for even the slightest shift in expression. Dazai exhales softly, particles of memories hanging in the air, fragments of emotions that could never reform themselves into something whole. ]
I would kill the entire world if it meant you get to live.
[ Those words come out easier than the rest. His gaze is clear and earnest, without even the slightest hint of doubt, and entirely unrepentant. ]
[It all rips Odasaku apart - Dazai's words, his voice, his taciturn smile.
[It was selfish to leave him. This unique Hell they've found themselves in has reminded Odasaku of that every waking moment of every single day. Dazai is near. It's impossible to shake. Odasaku knew what that final charge would bring, and he did it anyway. He wouldn't blame Dazai for hating him.
[But Dazai doesn't hate him. He grieves him. That's a new and nauseating feeling, to be grieved, to be that great source of pain.
[Odasaku reaches out and grips Dazai's shoulder tight with his hand. Despite it all, he manages the most subdued of smiles, stark just for the fact that it's on Odasaku's face at all.]
Lucky for the world, no one needs to worry about that right now. Isn't that something?
Dazai. [Blue eyes search his friends face. Something pleads in them.] I'm glad I got to see you again. I'm glad you're here with me now.
i started it with beastzai i have no room to judge
[ Dazai has never once blamed Odasaku. He's never once resented him.
There's so many people who he blames, who he resents, and himself most of all, but never the man before him.
The only thing he had wanted was to see him one more time, but that's a lie. He wanted so much more, but if he let those feelings spill out, he would never be able to stem the flow.
He flinches lightly at the touch to his shoulder, a sheepish look appearing, like he's trying to determine whether to apologize or lean into that kindness.
Humanity doesn't come naturally to Dazai. He doesn't know how to navigate it.
His chest compresses, his heart pounds, and it feels as though it might burst in his chest as his hand reaches up. His fingertips brush against the hand on his shoulder, and there's something uncertain and bittersweet in that awkward smile of his.
It's a look that Odasaku will recognize from back when their friendship started, a sixteen year old boy cautiously hoping that someone cared, backpedaling the second that it seemed dangerous.
It's the look of a person who thinks that even just the faintest acceptance of what he has will cause what he has now to disappear, be stolen away by the world.
He likes that world he saw. Dazai loves it. He loves it more than life itself, because it was a world that was his - it was a world where nothing could be taken away from him. ]
... You're right... I like this world.
[ And there it is again, the fretful look of a teenager searching for any sign of disapproval, anything that might be a danger. The look of a wary black cat. It eases though, and his smile settles into something easier.
There's a heat at the back of his eyes, but just a bit. And after some thought and hesitation - ]
... This is the world I want to live in. I'm happy here.
[ That feels important to say, somehow. And, more hesitantly still - ]
This world is less painful than others.
CRIES LMK IF U WANNA WRAP OR GO ON I AM EATING THIS
["I'm happy here," he says. It's more than Odasaku might ever have expected. There's really no arguing something like that. If this place, Hell though it might be, according to so many, is less painful than the life the awaits Dazai back in their world, then the decision is easy.]
We'll stay, then. [We'll stay. They will stay.] I like it too.
[ It's a horrible feeling. Dazai doesn't know what to do with it. It feels like too much. The grim reaper's sycthe positions itself before Dazai's eyes, but it always just grazes him before taking someone else's head off. It always just brushes against him before cutting whatever thread is tying him to someone. ]
You are. I want to die.
[ That's his response, pulling his knees close to his chest. Then, weakly, ]
I'm going to kill myself right now.
[ He folds his arms and buries his face against it. Dazai can't articulate what's there, not that desire to die while he still has a bit of happiness, not that desire to be lost before he can lose, and not that inability to die now - it would be so easy if it wouldn't hurt Odasaku. It would be so, so easy, but now it's not, because he doesn't want his death to hurt.
Dazai doesn't know how to say any of that, so he repeats, in a voice that should be light and joking but comes out quiet and miserable instead, because he is happy, Dazai is the happiest he's been in four long years, ]
[Maybe Oda shouldn't understand, but he thinks he does. He can't divine exactly what Dazai's thinking. The logic doesn't quite add up. Anyone saying that they're about to hang themselves, sounding as miserable and pitiful as Dazai is, couldn't be anything less than despondent.
[But to die during a pleasant dream is a benevolent death. Oda knows that these words signify Dazai's happiness for that reason alone. He as much as told him so.
[Dazai and Odasaku don't touch. Not really. Here and there, a hand on a shoulder, like Oda's is now. That's about it. But the time for brazen honesty is here in this world if it hasn't been anywhere else.
[He's dead, his best friend grieving him throughout their reunion, all but curled up into a ball. Dazai is happy that they're together. Odasaku is too.
[He wraps his arms around his friend's shoulders and hangs on. It's not something Dazai will be used to. He knows that. But he gives it nonetheless. Dazai can do whatever he wants with it.]
[ Odasaku wraps his arms around him, and Dazai forgets how to breathe. He goes limp in the same way that a kitten does when picked up by its mother, holding in a breath for as long as he can before finally exhaling. It's too much. It's too close, and the closer he comes to things the closer he is to losing them, and so it seems to him that so much as twitching will cause this reality to vanish.
He has no chioce though, of course, as his heart races in his chest, which rises and falls with each breath. Dazai has never wallowed in self-pity and he doesn't pity himself now, but he doesn't know how to act either. ]
I could kill you too. I'll kill you first, then myself.
[ But he can't do that either. He would endure the pain of living and the pain of dying both before he could bring himself to hurt the other. But it fits with everything he's said. It fits with what was done.
Odasaku took Gide with him, or perhaps it was the other way around; both seemed satisfied.
That seems so much easier to understand than the warmth that embraces him, that sinking feeling, that elation, conflicting emotions that he was never meant to endure. It's a pain worse than living.
But slowly, awkwardly, like a person flailing their limbs while trying to learn to swim, Dazai manages to return the gesture. He unfurls himself, shifting his position and twisting at the waist so he can wrap his arms around the other in return, pulling him closer and then loosening his grip, experimenting to find the right way to keep him from dispersing into particles and fragments. ]
I don't want you to go somewhere that I can't follow again. However much you promise not to, that's just human arrogance speaking. In reality it's a lie, because people say it daily, then they do. They the people they made those same promises to. Besides, one person always dies before the other.
[ Logical and simple. Better.
Better, because then Odasaku won't have to suffer from the pain of living either. But that's not right, because he wants to live, but it's not right, because he was consumed by it once.
So he sighs, bottoming out, working through it before anyone can dare to offer platitudes disguised as comfort, ]
.... It's fine. Unless you have a death wish, this is enough. And i f you have a death wish, I'll shake it out of you.
[ Too smart, too detached, too odd to be called human... But Osamu Dazai really is just a man in his early twenties too. He's capable of love and care. But for better or worse, every drop of love and care and affection has been poured into the person before him, and there it will stay no matter how many years pass. ]
[Odasaku recognizes that Dazai is right. He can't promise that they'll stay here together, that they'll travel this world, that they won't have to part ways again. No one can make a promise like that. But there's no need to drive that home right now. Dazai speaks through his riddles and finds another landing point. 'This is enough,' he says, and Odasaku doesn't quite know how to say that he thinks so too - to be here together, in this moment, is all they have. It's enough. It has to be.
[He lets them hang there a while in each other's embrace - in fact, won't slip away until Dazai does. If they have to sit here all night like this, they'll do that.]
It's like I said. I like being here with you. [But his voice has taken on an odd gentleness, quieter than usual.] That's my only wish right now. To stay up late talking to my friend. Simple enough, isn't it?
[It's enough.]
I don't want to go anywhere else either. [That, at least, he can say truly.]
[ He can hear the steady rhythm of Odasaku's heart and the warmth of his body. When his fingers twitch and curl just slightly, they find purchase in soft fabric. He waits a minute, perhaps two, maybe longer - he's not quite certain how long, but it doesn't stop, the body doesn't grow cool, and at length he unfurls himself.
There's the smell of smoke. There's the faint smell of blood, slight but still present, and when he blinks he doesn't seen black but warm golds and reds.
He places his hand off to either side, glancing away, embarrassed, uncertain of what else to say. Dazai is an adult in every way but his heart, because he never learned how to feel anything at all; he didn't learn how to love properly, he didn't learn to hate properly, not how to mourn - there was never any real need to.
He nods in acceptance of what's said, starting to peel the bandages off of one hand. ]
I can't think of anything to talk about.
[ He says with a sardonic smile. There's too many thoughts in his head. There's hundreds of plans. There's hundreds of alternative endings. There's a single world, the only world that he's alive in; one where they never met. It was a world where Odasaku hated him. It was a world that was worth saving, but one he alone couldn't live in. There's more wants and wishes than stars in the sky, but none that can quite come into focus.
And he wonders if maybe...
If Dazai had lived just a little longer...
He exhales softly, finding scar tissue beneath the wrapping as he peels back just enough to remove anything bloody, and after a few tugs manages to pull it off. ]
... You really are a strange person, Odasaku.
[ To accept such strange and inflammatory statements so easily, from a person who would no doubt follow through on those words. He leans away, reserved, before leaning back toward Oda. He lets his shoulder brush up against the others just slighty, just enough to feel the pressure of pushing against something, and the warmth that comes along with being near another person. ]
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no subject
[Dazai is ever the crying child Oda first said he was. It's heartbreaking in that way that you can only allow something to be heartbreaking for a few seconds at a time. Who doesn't want peace for a dear friend? Dazai suffers. Oda knows he does.]
I'd have trouble answering that question. [His voice is quiet, thoughtful.]
Suppose...I've never thought all that much about happiness itself. I made it through day to day just fine most of the time. Maybe I figure that's all you can really ask for.
[Something occurs to him, and he falls quiet for another moment.]
This place...where we are now...
Is that like the refuge you're talking about?
no subject
[ He taps his temple, letting his arm rest over his eyes, covering out the light as he lays with his knees up. One rocks back and forth, starting to fall to the side before he brings it back up to click against the other. ]
The world doesn't really exist in the way that we think it does. Humans just developed sensory input in a way that allows the brain to piece together our own world. There are pieces of the world that we can't interact with, and there are things that don't match our perception of them.
[ Which isn't to say that there is no reality or descend into solipsism and nihilism, but rather at once an addition and a counterpoint to his previous assertion. People can be happy in a fake world. They can be happy in a dream world. They can be happy because the two aren't all that different.
It's academic jargon, but it is a way of affirming Odasaku's words. This isn't quite the world he yearns for most; it's too unstable, too erratic, something that he can't control and protect. It's one where everything can still be taken from him. But it's one where he can live.
He'd never thought about happiness all that much either. It seemed inconsequential to him. Dazai's life was always just Dazai's life; empty, gray, painful.
Dazai pauses to to collect his thoughts. Odasaku can't match Dazai's level of intellect and cunning any better than anyone else, but he's sharp; he's perceptive, one of the few people who have been able to so thoroughly trick Dazai, with a high perception and level of emotional intelligence that Dazai could never hope to match. It sometimes felt like Odasaku could perceive Dazai's feelings better than Dazai himself could ever hope to.
Dazai is a crying child; he's a lost child who finally found his house; he's a twenty-two year old boy who was far too intelligent to be able to interact with the world - a fact that he's leaned into more than away from. ]
I had a nice dream recently, [ He lifts his arm back up, gesturing vaguely, though his gaze stays on the ceiling, ] I didn't think that was possible for me anymore, it's been so many years.
[ There's a bubbling little laugh. It's pleasant, affectionate. Though it wasn't quite a dream either. He still hasn't seen a real one; there's only nightmares. There's only a moment in time, a memory, played on an endless loop - reach, grasp, find his grip empty; a red stain on his palm that blurs in and out of focus, the faint smell of smoke and the resounding silence, followed by a sound that he only recognizes after some time to be his own stifled sobs.
Not quite a dream, but just as ethereal and fleeting. ]
no subject
[It makes him sad. It makes him happy. He doesn't feel lonely anymore. There's guilt. He's glad that Dazai's here. He's glad that he's not alone. He's glad that he has someone near who cares enough to put a bandage on his brow.
[His heart swells with woeful affection. He finds himself sitting on the ground with his back pressed up against the couch. He reaches onto the table and takes a pack of cigarettes to light up; offers one to Dazai, as is only polite.]
Let's do what we said. Let's explore this world.
There's no more reason to go anywhere else. You said so yourself.
[Maybe Dazai isn't meant for happiness, but he can have something. If he likes this place, and he wants to stay here, he can have that, at least. He should.]
no subject
[ He takes the cigarette and taps the top of Odasaku's head with his index finger. ]
... Never had to join the Port Mafia.
[ There's others too, but none that Odasaku would know. He passes over them as readily as he does himself. Dazai doesn't smoke, but he fiddles with the cigarette.
He speaks of the world with a genuine affection, something that fills his entire heart; the words are as warm and gentle as a summer breeze. He lolls his head to finally look at the other, his gaze not quite matching his tone; there's that emptiness that always seems to find its way back to him which mingles with that softness.He rolls onto his side shortly after, dropping the pillow behind him and instead folding one arm to use as a pillow instead.
It's the life that he has now which changed that world's trajectory. Sometimes, that's enough for him to feel like his life has some meaning. ]
... I'm happy that a world like that exists. From the bottom of my heart, I'm glad I was able to see it.
[ Though maybe it's pointless to share any of this. It's difficult to understand and easy to dismiss, as are all things with him. It's easier yet to miss what's buried beneath those feelings - that bitter jealousy and resentment for having been born in this world and not that one,for only being able to yearn and want, things that mingle with but can't trump the comfort of just knowing it exists; his love for that world, imprinted on him, a dream that hasn't fully faded away yet; a world that he wants others to love, for it's a miracle that it exists.
It's a complicated feeling, so... ]
But...
[ Dazai trails off, instead watching. ]
no subject
[It's a surprisingly sentimental dream, Oda thinks. Dazai even thought up something for the boss to do. Maybe it shouldn't be so surprising. Dazai's version of a happy ending may be a strange one, but he talks about them often enough.
[Something brings Oda's awareness to the beating of his own heart, though it's meant to be still. It's one of those moments where Dazai's presence is such that one has no choice but to hang onto every word. There's weight to them. Oda can tell. He wants to know everything that Dazai's thinking. He always wants to know what he's thinking.
[Perhaps too quietly, he urges:]
Go on.
no subject
He hesitates, his mouth opening and closing, expression shifting several times and his gaze darting about. It's nerves, and it's hesitation, but more than that it's just a simple inability to find the words.
He's had so long to find them. He's had four long years of sitting next to an empty barstool or at a grave. Valentine's Day would come and he'd brag about how many chocolates he'd gotten before toasting. Christmas. New Years. Days say with his back against a tombstone.
He never learned how to move on past simple yearning. There was never any opportunity. After some thought he pushes himself up, opting to join him on the floor. Dazai speaks as he does so, ]
You were right. It is better being on the side that saves people. I like it better, and I decided to become a good man, but... The truth is...
[ He settles down, reaching up and brushing his fingertips against the bandage on his head, fingers lighting tracing down his temple, near the eye; one that he'd lack the ability to see out of in another life. ]
... I could never really manage it. I'm the most selfish man alive.
[ He's watching, searching for even the slightest shift in expression. Dazai exhales softly, particles of memories hanging in the air, fragments of emotions that could never reform themselves into something whole. ]
I would kill the entire world if it meant you get to live.
[ Those words come out easier than the rest. His gaze is clear and earnest, without even the slightest hint of doubt, and entirely unrepentant. ]
evil icon from pan gomen
[It was selfish to leave him. This unique Hell they've found themselves in has reminded Odasaku of that every waking moment of every single day. Dazai is near. It's impossible to shake. Odasaku knew what that final charge would bring, and he did it anyway. He wouldn't blame Dazai for hating him.
[But Dazai doesn't hate him. He grieves him. That's a new and nauseating feeling, to be grieved, to be that great source of pain.
[Odasaku reaches out and grips Dazai's shoulder tight with his hand. Despite it all, he manages the most subdued of smiles, stark just for the fact that it's on Odasaku's face at all.]
Lucky for the world, no one needs to worry about that right now. Isn't that something?
Dazai. [Blue eyes search his friends face. Something pleads in them.] I'm glad I got to see you again. I'm glad you're here with me now.
i started it with beastzai i have no room to judge
There's so many people who he blames, who he resents, and himself most of all, but never the man before him.
The only thing he had wanted was to see him one more time, but that's a lie. He wanted so much more, but if he let those feelings spill out, he would never be able to stem the flow.
He flinches lightly at the touch to his shoulder, a sheepish look appearing, like he's trying to determine whether to apologize or lean into that kindness.
Humanity doesn't come naturally to Dazai. He doesn't know how to navigate it.
His chest compresses, his heart pounds, and it feels as though it might burst in his chest as his hand reaches up. His fingertips brush against the hand on his shoulder, and there's something uncertain and bittersweet in that awkward smile of his.
It's a look that Odasaku will recognize from back when their friendship started, a sixteen year old boy cautiously hoping that someone cared, backpedaling the second that it seemed dangerous.
It's the look of a person who thinks that even just the faintest acceptance of what he has will cause what he has now to disappear, be stolen away by the world.
He likes that world he saw. Dazai loves it. He loves it more than life itself, because it was a world that was his - it was a world where nothing could be taken away from him. ]
... You're right... I like this world.
[ And there it is again, the fretful look of a teenager searching for any sign of disapproval, anything that might be a danger. The look of a wary black cat. It eases though, and his smile settles into something easier.
There's a heat at the back of his eyes, but just a bit. And after some thought and hesitation - ]
... This is the world I want to live in. I'm happy here.
[ That feels important to say, somehow. And, more hesitantly still - ]
This world is less painful than others.
CRIES LMK IF U WANNA WRAP OR GO ON I AM EATING THIS
We'll stay, then. [We'll stay. They will stay.] I like it too.
So, I'm right here with you. Dazai.
MAYHAPS... A LIL MORE... cw: suicide talk
You are. I want to die.
[ That's his response, pulling his knees close to his chest. Then, weakly, ]
I'm going to kill myself right now.
[ He folds his arms and buries his face against it. Dazai can't articulate what's there, not that desire to die while he still has a bit of happiness, not that desire to be lost before he can lose, and not that inability to die now - it would be so easy if it wouldn't hurt Odasaku. It would be so, so easy, but now it's not, because he doesn't want his death to hurt.
Dazai doesn't know how to say any of that, so he repeats, in a voice that should be light and joking but comes out quiet and miserable instead, because he is happy, Dazai is the happiest he's been in four long years, ]
I'm going to find a rope and hang myself.
OF COURSE god this fucking ripped me apart
[But to die during a pleasant dream is a benevolent death. Oda knows that these words signify Dazai's happiness for that reason alone. He as much as told him so.
[Dazai and Odasaku don't touch. Not really. Here and there, a hand on a shoulder, like Oda's is now. That's about it. But the time for brazen honesty is here in this world if it hasn't been anywhere else.
[He's dead, his best friend grieving him throughout their reunion, all but curled up into a ball. Dazai is happy that they're together. Odasaku is too.
[He wraps his arms around his friend's shoulders and hangs on. It's not something Dazai will be used to. He knows that. But he gives it nonetheless. Dazai can do whatever he wants with it.]
i might not recover from this one
He has no chioce though, of course, as his heart races in his chest, which rises and falls with each breath. Dazai has never wallowed in self-pity and he doesn't pity himself now, but he doesn't know how to act either. ]
I could kill you too. I'll kill you first, then myself.
[ But he can't do that either. He would endure the pain of living and the pain of dying both before he could bring himself to hurt the other. But it fits with everything he's said. It fits with what was done.
Odasaku took Gide with him, or perhaps it was the other way around; both seemed satisfied.
That seems so much easier to understand than the warmth that embraces him, that sinking feeling, that elation, conflicting emotions that he was never meant to endure. It's a pain worse than living.
But slowly, awkwardly, like a person flailing their limbs while trying to learn to swim, Dazai manages to return the gesture. He unfurls himself, shifting his position and twisting at the waist so he can wrap his arms around the other in return, pulling him closer and then loosening his grip, experimenting to find the right way to keep him from dispersing into particles and fragments. ]
I don't want you to go somewhere that I can't follow again. However much you promise not to, that's just human arrogance speaking. In reality it's a lie, because people say it daily, then they do. They the people they made those same promises to. Besides, one person always dies before the other.
[ Logical and simple. Better.
Better, because then Odasaku won't have to suffer from the pain of living either. But that's not right, because he wants to live, but it's not right, because he was consumed by it once.
So he sighs, bottoming out, working through it before anyone can dare to offer platitudes disguised as comfort, ]
.... It's fine. Unless you have a death wish, this is enough. And i f you have a death wish, I'll shake it out of you.
[ Too smart, too detached, too odd to be called human... But Osamu Dazai really is just a man in his early twenties too. He's capable of love and care. But for better or worse, every drop of love and care and affection has been poured into the person before him, and there it will stay no matter how many years pass. ]
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[He lets them hang there a while in each other's embrace - in fact, won't slip away until Dazai does. If they have to sit here all night like this, they'll do that.]
It's like I said. I like being here with you. [But his voice has taken on an odd gentleness, quieter than usual.] That's my only wish right now. To stay up late talking to my friend. Simple enough, isn't it?
[It's enough.]
I don't want to go anywhere else either. [That, at least, he can say truly.]
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There's the smell of smoke. There's the faint smell of blood, slight but still present, and when he blinks he doesn't seen black but warm golds and reds.
He places his hand off to either side, glancing away, embarrassed, uncertain of what else to say. Dazai is an adult in every way but his heart, because he never learned how to feel anything at all; he didn't learn how to love properly, he didn't learn to hate properly, not how to mourn - there was never any real need to.
He nods in acceptance of what's said, starting to peel the bandages off of one hand. ]
I can't think of anything to talk about.
[ He says with a sardonic smile. There's too many thoughts in his head. There's hundreds of plans. There's hundreds of alternative endings. There's a single world, the only world that he's alive in; one where they never met. It was a world where Odasaku hated him. It was a world that was worth saving, but one he alone couldn't live in. There's more wants and wishes than stars in the sky, but none that can quite come into focus.
And he wonders if maybe...
If Dazai had lived just a little longer...
He exhales softly, finding scar tissue beneath the wrapping as he peels back just enough to remove anything bloody, and after a few tugs manages to pull it off. ]
... You really are a strange person, Odasaku.
[ To accept such strange and inflammatory statements so easily, from a person who would no doubt follow through on those words. He leans away, reserved, before leaning back toward Oda. He lets his shoulder brush up against the others just slighty, just enough to feel the pressure of pushing against something, and the warmth that comes along with being near another person. ]
The strangest person to ever join the Port Mafia.