[ Dazai's eyes train down and to the side, to the hand that clings to one of the sleeves of his jacket. He stares for several long seconds, eyes-half closed, as though reflecting on something, before he shakes his head and looks back up.
If it were any other time and any other place, he might be able to brush it off with a light remark about this happening before, but that look on his face kills any inclination he might have.
It's difficult. He is without a doubt Osamu Dazai. He is the same as he was every day before now, but there's a piece of him missing. There's a gap between then and now. Those memories of the last few months haven't quite settled, and neither has his heart, which aches painfully. It's overwhelming. That look overwhelms him, and it feels as though any kind of torture would be less painful.
He places his hand on Odasaku's arm, letting it settle there. ]
I wasn't gone that long, you know.
[ A wry grin that flattens out, then reshapes itself into something softer. ]
... I know. People disappear here all the time, so you started worrying, right? But I promised you that I wouldn't leave.
[ His fingers curl slightly. That's important. That's more important to him than almost anything, more and more with each passing second. There's this thought that he doesn't want to leave, not if leaving means returning. The thought of it is nauseating, and he finds that he'd lived with it for so long that he'd simply forgotten about it until now; he exhales a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding. ]
Have I ever lied to you about something like that?
[Odasaku feels unsteady. It's important to feel steady. Bad things happen when he feels unsteady, but Dazai's grip on his arm might be the only thing anchoring him in place. He stares at his friend. He can't force his expression to even out from that incredulous, mournful surprise. On anyone else's face, it wouldn't look like much, but it's obvious on a face that never changes.
[And it still doesn't make sense. He isn't the same, but he remembers. He promised he wouldn't leave. Odasaku promised that too. And Dazai has never lied to him about anything like that. Odasaku never has either.
[He sucks in a deep breath through his nose; hadn't quite realized he needed one. He lets go of Dazai's sleeve, running a hand through his hair, but it fidgets.
[Unsteady. He's not used to this. He clears his throat - shakes his head. Why be steady? He feels he could erupt. He wants to.]
You remember. [He clears his throat.] How can that be?
[Because nothing here makes sense. Odasaku has heard that it's Hell, but it doesn't feel that way now; did yesterday, and the day before, and the day before.]
Before, you were...[Does he remember?]
You look...the same as I last saw you, now. Back in Yokohama.
[ Softly, affectionately, because those feelings are still there. Not four years of yearning, but three months, a seamless transition that isn't quite at odds with what he knows. It's more intense, for that longing only increased with the years, but rather than something disconcerting, that affection is as a warm fireplace on a cold winter's day - he's inched closer to it with a blanket tucked around him, embracing its glow.
Whatever emotions may have weighed him down, those days that Odasaku refers to, those that he remembers, were never anything more than a soft comfort. But he doesn't need any memories to know that they always would be - rather, it's only his lack of thought on the future that had prevented him from noting them as such.
The rest is a little more complicated, and he feels at the fabric of Odasaku's shirt, feeling it out with his fingers and gripping and releasing it. It's not that he doesn't know, but rather, that it's difficult to explain. His hands rest by his side, that one raised arm having fallen back. ]
This is a place founded on wishes, so at least one person must have wished for it, [ One or both of them, ] For things to return to how they once were... But even if you thought, "I want to erase this pain," you wouldn't want to erase the happy memories that came after... Right? It's something like that.
[ And what of those four years between, then...? Were they happy? Were they sad? No one can say now. But those brown eyes are fixed on him, clear-eyed, intense, staring directly at him without the least bit of judgment, but perhaps the slightest curiosity - had it been one? Both?
Ah, he really does hate that look on his face. He hates it. It doesn't suit him at all. It makes Dazai's knees feels wobbly and his eyes burn, and he really does think that life would be easier if only he could gouge them out. If it would make it better, Dazai might drink bleach to get away from it, but he knows it won't, and so his countenance is ever unchanging aside from that slight twitch of his fingers as they curl by his side, that faint tension that comes and goes. ]
... I remember my time here with you, because I didn't want to forget it. I remember my time with others, because I wouldn't wish to forget them now. [ Dazai takes a step forward to close the gap between them that little bit more, leaning forward just a bit with that beguiling smile, ] I'm sure the rest will come back later, [ Whether or not they want it to, ] but for now this is enough, isn't it? Because that promise meant... That I wouldn't forget our time spent here either.
[ That much was certainly a wish that they'd made together.
Dazai can say all of this because he's the more logical of the two. He's already pieced much of it together, to the point where the rest is momentarily lost to the sea of emotion. Enough that he can, just for this instant, forget his death. ]
I remember what's important.
[ Odasaku, always Odasaku, but he remembers others too... Maruki and BB, Sunmori, Akechi, and others too. There's people here. He remembers them. People he doesn't know well but was inching toward - so many, so many... So many more than he could have imagined in their world.
[Dazai comes closer; Odasaku doesn't mean to, but he grips him, one hand on the boy's bicep, the other on the back of his neck, tight, like he's trying to hold him there in place.
[Here.
[Dazai hates the look on Odasaku's face, but it only deepens in its pained affection. It's warm, but it's heavy. He feels...overwhelmed; compelled, but he doesn't know toward what. He wishes, but he doesn't know what for. Just him.
[ He's at a loss for words, and so silence ensures.
That's rare. That's unheard of. Dazai is never at a loss for words. There's always something he can say. There's always something on the tip of his tongue, and so each passing second of silence, each rise and fall of his chest, each inhale and exhale, seem like they belong to someone else. It's unnatural. It's dizzying. It's something that he doesn't know how to deal with, like clumsily trying to do a two-man cats cradle by himself with know knowledge of how to do so, and so all he has is a tangled mess of string.
Was he better? Is this better? What's the optimal choice here? He doesn't know. Something is missing. Something is missing, something aching, yearning, painful, something that makes his heart quicken with that touch - that grip, that grounding, that at once makes it feel as though the world might collapse and the only think that's holding him in place when his memories aren't seamlessly connecting.
Was it his wish then? No, it couldn't have been. Dazai doesn't remember wishing for this. He drunkenly leans against him, as though all his muscles were suddenly depressed, staggering as he tries to make sense of something nonsensical. It would be easier if there were some emotion he could pull on and tap into, but there's not - it's not forgotten, it's lost, what should be there is lost in its entirety.
There is something painful about that though. It feels like he's lost something important. Something that he's always tried to protect. Something that he would die the moment he lost. That's the singular fragment of who that person was that remained - some yearning that encompassed every single moment of every day, something that he could have lived without ever realizing was there if only the rest weren't stripped away.
...
It's fine. It's no matter. But he's still not sure what to say, and so his mouth opens and closes several times without anything coming out, before finally - ]
Odasaku....
[ ...
...
Nothing else follows.
For the first time, Dazai isn't sure of what to say at all. ]
[Odasaku is a dead man. They're in a false world. Their time is limited. Dazai has returned.
[Odasaku pulls the boy's head against his chest, wrapping the other arm fully around him. They never used to get close like this. They still don't, really, but the time or two that they have over the last three months...
[Odasaku doesn't want to let go.
[He holds him tight. He holds him steady. He rests his cheek against the top of the boy's head and closes his eyes.]
Don't worry about it, Dazai. You don't have to say anything.
[Because Dazai is speechless, and he's never speechless.
[Let him be speechless. Let him be stunned. Let him be human.
[Odasaku is rendered human. There's no one else but Dazai who can make a foolish dream like that reality.]
[ They're not supposed to get this close, or rather Odasaku isn't.
There was always an unspoken agreement between Dazai and others. He could enter their space, but were to stay out of his. Odasaku and Ango both understood that. They could stay close to him because they understood how to maintain the correct distance. In that way, they could share their warmth without doing harm.
There's a sense of dread that sends shiver down his spine, a shortness of breath, and his face feels hot. He should push away. He should have pulled away before, but it's like all the strength has been sapped from him. He leans forward instead, helpless, and listens to the steady beat of his friend's heart.
He's warm, and he's away of each breath that companies the rise and fall of his chest, and Odasaku smells faintly of smoke.
It's too painful. It really will be what kills him. Maybe that's why this happened. That sensation that's been building over months, over years, had finally become too much.
Dazai doesn't want to be human, because everything about being human is painful. But he does too, and it's only with Odasaku that he struggles so much.
It's less practiced, but in the end there's less hesitation, less awkwardness when he decides to reciprocate the gesture. He wraps his arms around the other with some trepidation. His grip is light at first, but he convinces himself to tighten it just a bit.
It feels different than it has the times before. It's still a greater weight than he can bear, but it's lighter; less sickening, less desperate, because all the things that should be there have been wiped away - four years of emotions which had only recently found an outlet. ]
... Sorry for worrying you. I don't think I can stay this way forever, but it is fine for now. This is how it should be.
[ He has no concrete proof for that, but Dazai trusts his own judgment. ]
[It's true. They aren't supposed to touch like this. And Odasaku wasn't supposed to die. And they weren't supposed to be thrust into an entirely new universe, powers robbed, powers returned, magic potions, dragons, a cottage by the sea, a friend across the hall, shitty instant curry, empty journals, drinks with new friends, drinks without the old...
[Dazai is wrong. None of this is what it should be. None of this should be possible at all. They had their time, and their time ended, and now their time is laid out in front of them, and Odasaku is
tired
[of suffocating himself.
[They part slowly. Odasaku keeps a hand on either one of Dazai's shoulders and watches him, brows folded above glossy blue eyes, smile weak, smile fond, smile His, only His.]
It's like I said. Whichever you is here with me...
[A light grip to those shoulders. Odasaku has to hold it a moment before dropping his arms to his sides.]
That's what I want. Dazai. Alright?
[There's no need to talk in circles. Oda nods for the door.]
[ This isn't as it should be, because Odasaku shouldn't be looking at him like that. Odasaku shouldn't be talking to him about something so serious. They've done it too often lately. It hasn't gotten easier, though he thinks that it should have.
Odasaku shouldn't look at him that way. It makes him feel like he's being seen - truly seen - for just a moment, for just a second; a brief period of time that's there and gone. The trance that gaze had over him is broken when he removes his hands, and Dazai looks away.
He's been here for three months. He knows how he should feel, but his heart just won't settle into place, because the middle is missing. It's like trying to pick up where he left off in the middle of a story that he'd forgotten the most important parts of.
It feels like there's something missing. ]
Honestly... I wasn't gone that long. I've disappeared for longer stretches of time.
[ He throws his hands up, waving them a little before dropping them back down and sliding them into his pockets as he walks to the door at a brisk pace, as though the moments before were nothing more than a daydream.
It was surely something important... ]
Do you remember the Dragon's Head Conflict? I was gone so long that even the Boss was worried!
[They can both feel this odd melancholy, but Odasaku lets it breathe. He's never been able to read Dazai's mind; he's said exactly what he intended to say, and he believes it's been heard. This is fine for now. It's time to move forward as normal.
[And then he's asked about a fairytale. It makes that ache in his heart painfully pulse. Whatever Dazai follows up with, it will be a conversation unique to only this one man, as they all are; how desperately Odasaku missed their late night talks.
[He lights up his cigarette and takes a drag, blowing the smoke in the direction opposite of Dazai.]
[ Well, that's not surprising. It's a fairly obscure story. ]
The title says it all. There was once a wise man; an old safe who believed that he had no love for his fellow man and wished to be left alone with his studies. He turned away the poor, the widowed, and the orphans, irritated by them; and when he buried his father, he solemnly wished he had no heart.
Thus, he sought and later summoned Fortune, and when asked what he wished for sad, "Perfect happiness. Fortune herself is my desire."
He considered Fortune a force of nature and could not be found in money, nor good eating and drinking, and instead clarified that he wished to have no heart. After that, he was able to see the greatest want and distress without feeling troubled. He thought himself happier than all others for this.
One day, he was visited by a prince who who had been sent to the neighboring kingdom along with his brother to find a wife. The prince pitied him for being a person who had no wife and no children; who found no pleasure in nature or the blessing of living with others.
But the old sage said, "I have never married, and I never shall. My time is too valuable to be spent in the careless world, which seems to live only for idle pleasures and trifling pursuits. I live for a grand purpose," and, "I have thought and studied for many years, but perfectly happy I never was until I lost my heart. I have lost that, and do not wish to have it back."
The prince promised to find the wise man a wife. He found in the neighboring kingdom two princesses. He visited the old sage with them in tow, and proclaimed that they were not suitable for him. Enraged, the old sage turned two into stone, and kept the remaining princess to use as a slave - a "wife." You can imagine her distress, but her tears meant nothing to him and her pleas for mercy fell upon deaf ears.
One day, the elder prince came looking for the younger one. After feeding an eagle and saving a mole, he he was granted their kindness in finding the philosopher's heart. He returned it to the man, who pleaded to have his heart and his youth returned, that he might live like other men.
There now, the prince and princesses were freed, and by the philosopher's chair there stood a small boy. This man had found his heart again, and was to begin life afresh.
"For none of God's creatures can live without a heart," is the ending and the moral.
[ It could be mistaken as being about Dazai, but it's not. After all, Dazai never had any particular inclination to study, nor does he reject companionship; quite the opposite in fact, where it seems as though he was born without a heart and thus incapable of having what he wants most. Likewise, he finds that age has yet to make him worse rather than better. It seems unlikely to him that it could.
So, what's the point of sharing this story? Well, it's just one of his whims.
Dazai pauses, allowing his companion to take everything in before asking, ]
[Odasaku listens dutifully, as he always does. He takes in the story, attempting to play through the scenes in his head just like he would while reading a book. He always does better, trying to visualize things like that. He finds there are some pieces missing - questions he has that only reading the tale himself might answer; still...]
I think I get it. It's not quite the same as ignorance being bliss, but...
[He takes a drag on his cigarette, withholding the smoke as he considers; he lets it out slowly, straight up into the air.]
Someone could give away their heart. When you can't tell the difference between something terrible and something beautiful, then neither can affect you. There's strength to it...
[That would be an empty life; painless, but empty. Is that a worthy trade? He doesn't know. If one never has, then they can never lose; it's a seductive thought.]
Seems to me he lived just fine without a heart. I'm not sure you can say that happiness was false if there was no alternative, but...
[Blue eyes glance at Dazai. It's one of those moments where he's not quite sure he's getting things right. He feels unmoored, and who could blame him? Dazai has sent him adrift in the sea. Nothing makes sense. But Odasaku's heart is open.
[It aches.
[It bleeds.
[It hurts, but...]
I'm glad he got his heart back. Seems it was waiting for him all that time, wasn't it?
Dazai, who has never been anything but himself, has no ability to see the appeal of having neither. In truth, it seems to him no better or worse than any other. But he's never seen much difference between those dichotomies that humans draw.
Odasaku must have been lonely though. It would be easier back home where he had the orphans and the restaurant owner too, his own mock-family unit, but here and now it's just the two of them. That's why Dazai concluded that he needed others.
He reaches his hand out, letting it brush up against the back of Oda's wrist before he draws it up to his chin. It's a small token of acknowledgment. ]
He had no concern for welfare of others, so he never made those miraculous discoveries that were at his fingertips. He studied for years to gain perfect happiness, but perfect happiness was being without a heart.
[ With or without a heart, then, he hadn't achieved that happiness he wished for. ]
He did retrieve his heart in the end, but he never obtained what he had spent all that time seeking — the nature phenomena known as "Fortune." [ He ponders this for a moment, ] Or maybe he did.
"Fortune" is a force of nature, like lightning or gravitation, which brings about "perfect happiness." The "Fortune" he summoned could only grant a singular wish - removing his heart; but not completely, just hiding it away. You were right, Odaskau, to just have it hidden is just to be awaiting its return...
[ Dazai nods, certain of this. It must be correct, as the story itself promises that no living being can exist without a heart.
But that does not define what the sage was looking for. It does not speak of the Fortune that he wished for. Nor should it. It's a fairy tale with a simple moral. No one ought to look that deeply into it, and no one does, and Dazai does not either - rather, he searches for something in speaking of it, something that which cannot be found, ]
The age despaired after despairing at the state of the world, and after losing his father... He was just in a state of a despair...
[ Despair of a world that showed him only beggars, widowers, and orphans. Despair of a world that only left him digging his father's grave. Does that touch him? Does it matter? There's not a single thing that hints at is, for Dazai remains with his hand held up to his chin, thoughtful.
Then, suddenly, his shoulders shake and he covers his mouth to stifle a laugh, ]
Yes... I understand. I know what "Fortune" is...
[ A single glance at Odasaku, that slight opportunity to offer his opinion, though Dazai is ever happy enough to go on without. ]
[Hearing Dazai laugh like that, proclaiming he's found the answer...Odasaku really can't stop to offer his opinion. He wants to know what comes next too badly.]
[ He does think to press the other. He wants to hear what Fortune is, but in the end it's the same as always; Odasaku speaks, and Dazai speaks more. That's why they can interact like this.
Odasaku can listen to him, and Dazai can watch him - can listen to him, can do so much more, as only Dazai can, and so they can understand each other. ]
"Fortune" is what can take your heart away, and is what can replace it... "Fortune" is what can erase who you were, that which can make you afresh... It can do all of that. It is a force of nature, like lightning or a hurricane, yet you can never catch it except for but a moment...
[ He exhales softly, ]
It's an age old riddle, isn't it? Ah, it's so generic that it bores me... It is "time." It is "time," because if you remove those years, those nightmares of years of only seeing human suffering will disappear; he can be reborn at the end because he has forgotten the loss of his father and will never know it again... Isn't that better?
[ But Dazai's frown deepens as he folds his arms, his eyes closing as his chin tilts down. There's this uncertain look, like he truly does not know what is the better option, before his eyes flutter open and he looks back to Odasaku.]
"Fortune" is as simple as "ignorance," wouldn't you say? Or at least, "time."
[ Ignorance is bliss, or so the saying goes, but that's not quite what Dazai means either - it's something more nebulous than that. It's ignorance of the horrors of the world. It's ignorance of everything save what's important. Those personal secrets, those lost loves, everything that one can hold near and dear.
Everything that time claims with the same proficiency as the Grim Reaper's scythe.
And so "Fortune" must be time itself. That desire to not only be young, but dumb and curious, interested in only other men.
[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.
Hmm... Though wouldn't you say that what he did is also a form of suicide? He killed himself, and he killed his father for the second time.
[ Everything always loops back to that, but there is a gravity to those words, something dark that doesn't quite sync up, like he's suddenly displeased with his own conclusions.
He doesn't entirely mind it. If he didn't like the outcome, Dazai would have no qualms about killing the person that he was; everything about them, every last part of their existence, every single remainder that another person might find, subsume it, replace it, but it's only himself that he wants to die. It's only that future self, who should be replaced.
That story could be about him, but it's not, because sometimes pain is a precious and treasured thing too. It's a poison that he thinks he might willingly swallow down and refuse the antidote if only it served some purpose.
Those are feelings he's had often here, ones which are a natural extension of who he is, so he can't entirely ignore them as he can so many others.
Still, whatever complicated feelings might lay beneath that statement are quickly lost, locked away as his expression warms, his smile reappearing. Dazai is ever oblivious to his own feelings, but that shift in Odasaku doesn't go unnoticed. ]
... Well! That has nothing to do with you or I though, Odasaku, since we're both still alive. Isn't it nice? It needs some adjustments, but we have our very own fountain of youth! We have "Fortune" at our fingertips!
[ He does laugh now. That is lucky, isn't it? Though this seems to be more like a rubberband. He'll snap back into place eventually. ]
[Dazai has always talked about suicide - easily, casually, even flippantly.
[It started feeling different after Odasaku, himself, failed to die.
[He wonders how many times he'd give everything away for the sake of selfish relief. They've been given time - "fortune". He might not have thought he wanted it, only three short months ago.]
What is it? [Odasaku's voice is quiet. He leans down to stub his cigarette out on the ground, then tucks the spent filter back into his pack.]
[ Dazai folds his hands behind his head. The stars are in the sky, the same as ever. The same sky he's ever seen. It's not all that hard at all to sift through his memories, his thoughts and emotions, as they all just come with the dull sense of something being wrong.
There's a slight pause, and whatever he might have originally said is gone, locked away. Instead what he says is, ]
I say that he was looking for "fortune," but it's a bit different. It was something that doesn't exist in any world.
[ As to what that something was, he doesn't seem willing to elaborate any further. ]
... Well, sorry for worrying you. You have to wait at least a couple weeks though, you know? I've let myself get kidnapped, faked my own death, been hospitalized for days...
[ The list goes on, and as it does he points to his index finger first, then the other four. ]
I always show up eventually though, don't I? So, you shouldn't worry... Ah, are you done smoking? I've been told that whiskey goes well with cigarettes, though we'd be doing it backwards...
[ There's a soft laugh, but he doesn't seem all that concerned. ]
[It was different. Dazai was gone. Odasaku knew that he was gone, as certain as a real death. Maybe he should have thought that Dazai's absence was intentional, or that he'd turn up again, but he didn't. He really didn't.
[He turns back toward their cottage. It wasn't meant to be theirs originally, but it's become theirs. Odasaku likes it that way.]
Yeah. Let's have a drink.
[He puts a hand on Dazai's shoulder and squeezes.]
[ But he says it with that sort of boyish grin that suggests that they weren't talking about anything serious at all. Dazai is ever like that, and if he twitches slightly at the squeeze of his shoulder - tensing, puzzling, releasing, he's at least able to pull at Oda's arm next to start dragging him along.
Not renewed, not reborn, not able to live among his fellow man at all, but Dazai can happily pull at him like this; they can have this sort of dynamic. ]
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no subject
[ Dazai's eyes train down and to the side, to the hand that clings to one of the sleeves of his jacket. He stares for several long seconds, eyes-half closed, as though reflecting on something, before he shakes his head and looks back up.
If it were any other time and any other place, he might be able to brush it off with a light remark about this happening before, but that look on his face kills any inclination he might have.
It's difficult. He is without a doubt Osamu Dazai. He is the same as he was every day before now, but there's a piece of him missing. There's a gap between then and now. Those memories of the last few months haven't quite settled, and neither has his heart, which aches painfully. It's overwhelming. That look overwhelms him, and it feels as though any kind of torture would be less painful.
He places his hand on Odasaku's arm, letting it settle there. ]
I wasn't gone that long, you know.
[ A wry grin that flattens out, then reshapes itself into something softer. ]
... I know. People disappear here all the time, so you started worrying, right? But I promised you that I wouldn't leave.
[ His fingers curl slightly. That's important. That's more important to him than almost anything, more and more with each passing second. There's this thought that he doesn't want to leave, not if leaving means returning. The thought of it is nauseating, and he finds that he'd lived with it for so long that he'd simply forgotten about it until now; he exhales a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding. ]
Have I ever lied to you about something like that?
no subject
[And it still doesn't make sense. He isn't the same, but he remembers. He promised he wouldn't leave. Odasaku promised that too. And Dazai has never lied to him about anything like that. Odasaku never has either.
[He sucks in a deep breath through his nose; hadn't quite realized he needed one. He lets go of Dazai's sleeve, running a hand through his hair, but it fidgets.
[Unsteady. He's not used to this. He clears his throat - shakes his head. Why be steady? He feels he could erupt. He wants to.]
You remember. [He clears his throat.] How can that be?
[Because nothing here makes sense. Odasaku has heard that it's Hell, but it doesn't feel that way now; did yesterday, and the day before, and the day before.]
Before, you were...[Does he remember?]
You look...the same as I last saw you, now. Back in Yokohama.
no subject
[ Softly, affectionately, because those feelings are still there. Not four years of yearning, but three months, a seamless transition that isn't quite at odds with what he knows. It's more intense, for that longing only increased with the years, but rather than something disconcerting, that affection is as a warm fireplace on a cold winter's day - he's inched closer to it with a blanket tucked around him, embracing its glow.
Whatever emotions may have weighed him down, those days that Odasaku refers to, those that he remembers, were never anything more than a soft comfort. But he doesn't need any memories to know that they always would be - rather, it's only his lack of thought on the future that had prevented him from noting them as such.
The rest is a little more complicated, and he feels at the fabric of Odasaku's shirt, feeling it out with his fingers and gripping and releasing it. It's not that he doesn't know, but rather, that it's difficult to explain. His hands rest by his side, that one raised arm having fallen back. ]
This is a place founded on wishes, so at least one person must have wished for it, [ One or both of them, ] For things to return to how they once were... But even if you thought, "I want to erase this pain," you wouldn't want to erase the happy memories that came after... Right? It's something like that.
[ And what of those four years between, then...? Were they happy? Were they sad? No one can say now. But those brown eyes are fixed on him, clear-eyed, intense, staring directly at him without the least bit of judgment, but perhaps the slightest curiosity - had it been one? Both?
Ah, he really does hate that look on his face. He hates it. It doesn't suit him at all. It makes Dazai's knees feels wobbly and his eyes burn, and he really does think that life would be easier if only he could gouge them out. If it would make it better, Dazai might drink bleach to get away from it, but he knows it won't, and so his countenance is ever unchanging aside from that slight twitch of his fingers as they curl by his side, that faint tension that comes and goes. ]
... I remember my time here with you, because I didn't want to forget it. I remember my time with others, because I wouldn't wish to forget them now. [ Dazai takes a step forward to close the gap between them that little bit more, leaning forward just a bit with that beguiling smile, ] I'm sure the rest will come back later, [ Whether or not they want it to, ] but for now this is enough, isn't it? Because that promise meant... That I wouldn't forget our time spent here either.
[ That much was certainly a wish that they'd made together.
Dazai can say all of this because he's the more logical of the two. He's already pieced much of it together, to the point where the rest is momentarily lost to the sea of emotion. Enough that he can, just for this instant, forget his death. ]
I remember what's important.
[ Odasaku, always Odasaku, but he remembers others too... Maruki and BB, Sunmori, Akechi, and others too. There's people here. He remembers them. People he doesn't know well but was inching toward - so many, so many... So many more than he could have imagined in their world.
What an odd feeling ]
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[Here.
[Dazai hates the look on Odasaku's face, but it only deepens in its pained affection. It's warm, but it's heavy. He feels...overwhelmed; compelled, but he doesn't know toward what. He wishes, but he doesn't know what for. Just him.
[His voice comes out a whisper.]
I wouldn't wish to erase you, Dazai.
Not this you. Not that one.
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That's rare. That's unheard of. Dazai is never at a loss for words. There's always something he can say. There's always something on the tip of his tongue, and so each passing second of silence, each rise and fall of his chest, each inhale and exhale, seem like they belong to someone else. It's unnatural. It's dizzying. It's something that he doesn't know how to deal with, like clumsily trying to do a two-man cats cradle by himself with know knowledge of how to do so, and so all he has is a tangled mess of string.
Was he better? Is this better? What's the optimal choice here? He doesn't know. Something is missing. Something is missing, something aching, yearning, painful, something that makes his heart quicken with that touch - that grip, that grounding, that at once makes it feel as though the world might collapse and the only think that's holding him in place when his memories aren't seamlessly connecting.
Was it his wish then? No, it couldn't have been. Dazai doesn't remember wishing for this. He drunkenly leans against him, as though all his muscles were suddenly depressed, staggering as he tries to make sense of something nonsensical. It would be easier if there were some emotion he could pull on and tap into, but there's not - it's not forgotten, it's lost, what should be there is lost in its entirety.
There is something painful about that though. It feels like he's lost something important. Something that he's always tried to protect. Something that he would die the moment he lost. That's the singular fragment of who that person was that remained - some yearning that encompassed every single moment of every day, something that he could have lived without ever realizing was there if only the rest weren't stripped away.
...
It's fine. It's no matter. But he's still not sure what to say, and so his mouth opens and closes several times without anything coming out, before finally - ]
Odasaku....
[ ...
...
Nothing else follows.
For the first time, Dazai isn't sure of what to say at all. ]
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[Odasaku is a dead man. They're in a false world. Their time is limited. Dazai has returned.
[Odasaku pulls the boy's head against his chest, wrapping the other arm fully around him. They never used to get close like this. They still don't, really, but the time or two that they have over the last three months...
[Odasaku doesn't want to let go.
[He holds him tight. He holds him steady. He rests his cheek against the top of the boy's head and closes his eyes.]
Don't worry about it, Dazai. You don't have to say anything.
[Because Dazai is speechless, and he's never speechless.
[Let him be speechless. Let him be stunned. Let him be human.
[Odasaku is rendered human. There's no one else but Dazai who can make a foolish dream like that reality.]
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There was always an unspoken agreement between Dazai and others. He could enter their space, but were to stay out of his. Odasaku and Ango both understood that. They could stay close to him because they understood how to maintain the correct distance. In that way, they could share their warmth without doing harm.
There's a sense of dread that sends shiver down his spine, a shortness of breath, and his face feels hot. He should push away. He should have pulled away before, but it's like all the strength has been sapped from him. He leans forward instead, helpless, and listens to the steady beat of his friend's heart.
He's warm, and he's away of each breath that companies the rise and fall of his chest, and Odasaku smells faintly of smoke.
It's too painful. It really will be what kills him. Maybe that's why this happened. That sensation that's been building over months, over years, had finally become too much.
Dazai doesn't want to be human, because everything about being human is painful. But he does too, and it's only with Odasaku that he struggles so much.
It's less practiced, but in the end there's less hesitation, less awkwardness when he decides to reciprocate the gesture. He wraps his arms around the other with some trepidation. His grip is light at first, but he convinces himself to tighten it just a bit.
It feels different than it has the times before. It's still a greater weight than he can bear, but it's lighter; less sickening, less desperate, because all the things that should be there have been wiped away - four years of emotions which had only recently found an outlet. ]
... Sorry for worrying you. I don't think I can stay this way forever, but it is fine for now. This is how it should be.
[ He has no concrete proof for that, but Dazai trusts his own judgment. ]
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[Dazai is wrong. None of this is what it should be. None of this should be possible at all. They had their time, and their time ended, and now their time is laid out in front of them, and Odasaku is
[of suffocating himself.
[They part slowly. Odasaku keeps a hand on either one of Dazai's shoulders and watches him, brows folded above glossy blue eyes, smile weak, smile fond, smile His, only His.]
It's like I said. Whichever you is here with me...
[A light grip to those shoulders. Odasaku has to hold it a moment before dropping his arms to his sides.]
That's what I want. Dazai. Alright?
[There's no need to talk in circles. Oda nods for the door.]
Have a smoke with me. I've missed talking to you.
1/3
Odasaku shouldn't look at him that way. It makes him feel like he's being seen - truly seen - for just a moment, for just a second; a brief period of time that's there and gone. The trance that gaze had over him is broken when he removes his hands, and Dazai looks away.
He's been here for three months. He knows how he should feel, but his heart just won't settle into place, because the middle is missing. It's like trying to pick up where he left off in the middle of a story that he'd forgotten the most important parts of.
It feels like there's something missing. ]
Honestly... I wasn't gone that long. I've disappeared for longer stretches of time.
[ He throws his hands up, waving them a little before dropping them back down and sliding them into his pockets as he walks to the door at a brisk pace, as though the moments before were nothing more than a daydream.
It was surely something important... ]
Do you remember the Dragon's Head Conflict? I was gone so long that even the Boss was worried!
[ He sounds proud of that. ]
2/3
It was certainly something he'd always protected.
Something that he would have wanted to hold onto, even if he lost everything else.
That's why it's fine for now, but he can't stay like this forever.
This is just a fleeting dream anyway. It will disappear no matter how much he wishes to believe in it. ]
3/3
... All of this has reminded me of something! Odasaku, are you familiar with The Man Without a Heart? It's a Danish fairy tale.
[ But this is fine for now. ]
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[And then he's asked about a fairytale. It makes that ache in his heart painfully pulse. Whatever Dazai follows up with, it will be a conversation unique to only this one man, as they all are; how desperately Odasaku missed their late night talks.
[He lights up his cigarette and takes a drag, blowing the smoke in the direction opposite of Dazai.]
I'm not. Tell me about it.
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The title says it all. There was once a wise man; an old safe who believed that he had no love for his fellow man and wished to be left alone with his studies. He turned away the poor, the widowed, and the orphans, irritated by them; and when he buried his father, he solemnly wished he had no heart.
Thus, he sought and later summoned Fortune, and when asked what he wished for sad, "Perfect happiness. Fortune herself is my desire."
He considered Fortune a force of nature and could not be found in money, nor good eating and drinking, and instead clarified that he wished to have no heart. After that, he was able to see the greatest want and distress without feeling troubled. He thought himself happier than all others for this.
One day, he was visited by a prince who who had been sent to the neighboring kingdom along with his brother to find a wife. The prince pitied him for being a person who had no wife and no children; who found no pleasure in nature or the blessing of living with others.
But the old sage said, "I have never married, and I never shall. My time is too valuable to be spent in the careless world, which seems to live only for idle pleasures and trifling pursuits. I live for a grand purpose," and, "I have thought and studied for many years, but perfectly happy I never was until I lost my heart. I have lost that, and do not wish to have it back."
The prince promised to find the wise man a wife. He found in the neighboring kingdom two princesses. He visited the old sage with them in tow, and proclaimed that they were not suitable for him. Enraged, the old sage turned two into stone, and kept the remaining princess to use as a slave - a "wife." You can imagine her distress, but her tears meant nothing to him and her pleas for mercy fell upon deaf ears.
One day, the elder prince came looking for the younger one. After feeding an eagle and saving a mole, he he was granted their kindness in finding the philosopher's heart. He returned it to the man, who pleaded to have his heart and his youth returned, that he might live like other men.
There now, the prince and princesses were freed, and by the philosopher's chair there stood a small boy. This man had found his heart again, and was to begin life afresh.
"For none of God's creatures can live without a heart," is the ending and the moral.
[ It could be mistaken as being about Dazai, but it's not. After all, Dazai never had any particular inclination to study, nor does he reject companionship; quite the opposite in fact, where it seems as though he was born without a heart and thus incapable of having what he wants most. Likewise, he finds that age has yet to make him worse rather than better. It seems unlikely to him that it could.
So, what's the point of sharing this story? Well, it's just one of his whims.
Dazai pauses, allowing his companion to take everything in before asking, ]
What do you think?
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I think I get it. It's not quite the same as ignorance being bliss, but...
[He takes a drag on his cigarette, withholding the smoke as he considers; he lets it out slowly, straight up into the air.]
Someone could give away their heart. When you can't tell the difference between something terrible and something beautiful, then neither can affect you. There's strength to it...
[That would be an empty life; painless, but empty. Is that a worthy trade? He doesn't know. If one never has, then they can never lose; it's a seductive thought.]
Seems to me he lived just fine without a heart. I'm not sure you can say that happiness was false if there was no alternative, but...
[Blue eyes glance at Dazai. It's one of those moments where he's not quite sure he's getting things right. He feels unmoored, and who could blame him? Dazai has sent him adrift in the sea. Nothing makes sense. But Odasaku's heart is open.
[It aches.
[It bleeds.
[It hurts, but...]
I'm glad he got his heart back. Seems it was waiting for him all that time, wasn't it?
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[ His voice lowers toward the end.
Dazai, who has never been anything but himself, has no ability to see the appeal of having neither. In truth, it seems to him no better or worse than any other. But he's never seen much difference between those dichotomies that humans draw.
Odasaku must have been lonely though. It would be easier back home where he had the orphans and the restaurant owner too, his own mock-family unit, but here and now it's just the two of them. That's why Dazai concluded that he needed others.
He reaches his hand out, letting it brush up against the back of Oda's wrist before he draws it up to his chin. It's a small token of acknowledgment. ]
He had no concern for welfare of others, so he never made those miraculous discoveries that were at his fingertips. He studied for years to gain perfect happiness, but perfect happiness was being without a heart.
[ With or without a heart, then, he hadn't achieved that happiness he wished for. ]
He did retrieve his heart in the end, but he never obtained what he had spent all that time seeking — the nature phenomena known as "Fortune." [ He ponders this for a moment, ] Or maybe he did.
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That all depends on your definition of "fortune," doesn't it?
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[ Dazai nods, certain of this. It must be correct, as the story itself promises that no living being can exist without a heart.
But that does not define what the sage was looking for. It does not speak of the Fortune that he wished for. Nor should it. It's a fairy tale with a simple moral. No one ought to look that deeply into it, and no one does, and Dazai does not either - rather, he searches for something in speaking of it, something that which cannot be found, ]
The age despaired after despairing at the state of the world, and after losing his father... He was just in a state of a despair...
[ Despair of a world that showed him only beggars, widowers, and orphans. Despair of a world that only left him digging his father's grave. Does that touch him? Does it matter? There's not a single thing that hints at is, for Dazai remains with his hand held up to his chin, thoughtful.
Then, suddenly, his shoulders shake and he covers his mouth to stifle a laugh, ]
Yes... I understand. I know what "Fortune" is...
[ A single glance at Odasaku, that slight opportunity to offer his opinion, though Dazai is ever happy enough to go on without. ]
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Tell me.
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Odasaku can listen to him, and Dazai can watch him - can listen to him, can do so much more, as only Dazai can, and so they can understand each other. ]
"Fortune" is what can take your heart away, and is what can replace it... "Fortune" is what can erase who you were, that which can make you afresh... It can do all of that. It is a force of nature, like lightning or a hurricane, yet you can never catch it except for but a moment...
[ He exhales softly, ]
It's an age old riddle, isn't it? Ah, it's so generic that it bores me... It is "time." It is "time," because if you remove those years, those nightmares of years of only seeing human suffering will disappear; he can be reborn at the end because he has forgotten the loss of his father and will never know it again... Isn't that better?
[ But Dazai's frown deepens as he folds his arms, his eyes closing as his chin tilts down. There's this uncertain look, like he truly does not know what is the better option, before his eyes flutter open and he looks back to Odasaku.]
"Fortune" is as simple as "ignorance," wouldn't you say? Or at least, "time."
[ Ignorance is bliss, or so the saying goes, but that's not quite what Dazai means either - it's something more nebulous than that. It's ignorance of the horrors of the world. It's ignorance of everything save what's important. Those personal secrets, those lost loves, everything that one can hold near and dear.
Everything that time claims with the same proficiency as the Grim Reaper's scythe.
And so "Fortune" must be time itself. That desire to not only be young, but dumb and curious, interested in only other men.
Time, but just a bit more. ]
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[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.
cw: suicidal ideation
[ Everything always loops back to that, but there is a gravity to those words, something dark that doesn't quite sync up, like he's suddenly displeased with his own conclusions.
He doesn't entirely mind it. If he didn't like the outcome, Dazai would have no qualms about killing the person that he was; everything about them, every last part of their existence, every single remainder that another person might find, subsume it, replace it, but it's only himself that he wants to die. It's only that future self, who should be replaced.
That story could be about him, but it's not, because sometimes pain is a precious and treasured thing too. It's a poison that he thinks he might willingly swallow down and refuse the antidote if only it served some purpose.
Those are feelings he's had often here, ones which are a natural extension of who he is, so he can't entirely ignore them as he can so many others.
Still, whatever complicated feelings might lay beneath that statement are quickly lost, locked away as his expression warms, his smile reappearing. Dazai is ever oblivious to his own feelings, but that shift in Odasaku doesn't go unnoticed. ]
... Well! That has nothing to do with you or I though, Odasaku, since we're both still alive. Isn't it nice? It needs some adjustments, but we have our very own fountain of youth! We have "Fortune" at our fingertips!
[ He does laugh now. That is lucky, isn't it? Though this seems to be more like a rubberband. He'll snap back into place eventually. ]
Hey, Odasaku, do you know what else I think?
cw: suicide
[It started feeling different after Odasaku, himself, failed to die.
[He wonders how many times he'd give everything away for the sake of selfish relief. They've been given time - "fortune". He might not have thought he wanted it, only three short months ago.]
What is it? [Odasaku's voice is quiet. He leans down to stub his cigarette out on the ground, then tucks the spent filter back into his pack.]
Tell me.
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There's a slight pause, and whatever he might have originally said is gone, locked away. Instead what he says is, ]
I say that he was looking for "fortune," but it's a bit different. It was something that doesn't exist in any world.
[ As to what that something was, he doesn't seem willing to elaborate any further. ]
... Well, sorry for worrying you. You have to wait at least a couple weeks though, you know? I've let myself get kidnapped, faked my own death, been hospitalized for days...
[ The list goes on, and as it does he points to his index finger first, then the other four. ]
I always show up eventually though, don't I? So, you shouldn't worry... Ah, are you done smoking? I've been told that whiskey goes well with cigarettes, though we'd be doing it backwards...
[ There's a soft laugh, but he doesn't seem all that concerned. ]
hehe lmk if u wanna wrap or if you have more <3
[He turns back toward their cottage. It wasn't meant to be theirs originally, but it's become theirs. Odasaku likes it that way.]
Yeah. Let's have a drink.
[He puts a hand on Dazai's shoulder and squeezes.]
We'll talk a while.
we can wrap here <3
[ But he says it with that sort of boyish grin that suggests that they weren't talking about anything serious at all. Dazai is ever like that, and if he twitches slightly at the squeeze of his shoulder - tensing, puzzling, releasing, he's at least able to pull at Oda's arm next to start dragging him along.
Not renewed, not reborn, not able to live among his fellow man at all, but Dazai can happily pull at him like this; they can have this sort of dynamic. ]
Let's talk about something more interesting.