[ 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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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. ]
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.