[ Dazai is silent for awhile. His expression alters, and his eyes seem to regard the other out of many thousands of years; any feelings he might express or words he could utter seem altogether inadequate.He lifts one hand up instead, placing it atop Odasaku's head and stroking his hair the way that a mother might when soothing her child.
There are countless words. There are too many, none quite right, none that promise to be free from the possibility of rejection.
Dazai nods. ]
... You don't want to die, [ He adds to the answer, voice low, ] You didn't want to die before either. "I want to die" and "I don't want to live" are two different things.
[ Dazai wants to die. His comments are treated like a joke. People hardly believe him when he says that he won't come back. He will not though, because from the moment he was born he was already dead. He was never meant to live at all.
He knows better than anyone how frightening it is, how unbearably painful it is, but nothing of what it means to have "worth." It's all just which proves to be more frightening.
If he digs into the recesses of his memories, Dazai thinks that he can remember somebody finding comfort in this sort of gesture - somebody running their had through his hair, speaking softly, but he's not sure. Much of his life has slipped through the cracks, and there's only so much that he can recall from before he found himself living in a storage container. But that's not his focus. ]
If the world were a righteous place, then people who still have stories they wish to share with others could do so and people who wish for sleep would be granted it. There's nothing so kind in any world though.
[ He takes his hand back, resting it on his lap once more. It's not a lecture, but rather a simple statement of his feelings, as it's only those around him that have assigned such great value to his life.
Dazai looks down, uncertainty coloring his features, ]
You're here now. You have people who would be saddened by your disappearance. That's all that really matters.
[That touch is the last thing Odasaku would ever expect from Dazai.
[It's awkward, the clear result of someone trying to mirror something they don't necessarily understand. It's such a genuine gesture, though - must be, or else Dazai wouldn't waste a moment doing it. Odd as it is, it does bring comfort. The mere fact Dazai tries at all brings comfort. His words do. He's right. Oda didn't want to die. He just couldn't continue living.
[Dazai pulls his hand away, and Odasaku is sure that his own face has broken wide open. In reality, the pained expression is subtle, albeit present. Inside, he feels like his heart has swelled with the weight of the endless ocean. It's nauseating.]
I wasn't thinking that way. [A truth, but he fails to hook it properly into place, leaving the thought half-finished.]
Dazai...
Do you remember when you gave me those gifts? [They haven't talked much about them since. Dazai disappeared shortly after.]
[ The look on Odasaku's face is enough to make his stomach drop. Dazai's fingers twitch slightly, scraping against the fabric of his pants before relaxing.
There's things that he can and will do here. This is one of them. It doesn't seem like enough though.
He nods in response. ]
Yeah.
[ It was an odd moment, as this one is, because Dazai has never tried to be this close to anyone. But... Odasaku needs someone to look out for him. He needs someone to create that life that he wants. There's no one longer anyone else that he can entrust that task to.
If Odasaku can see his novel to completion, then Dazai finds that would be proof that he was satisfied with his life. If Dazai could read that, then he thinks he could die without any regrets, knowing that everything was finished.
So he thinks about that moment often, and everything that should follow. ]
[Odasaku thinks of it often. It's maddening, at times, just how often he thinks about it. He thinks about how he has nothing to show Dazai, how he sits down to write and every word leaves his head. He's still missing what he always was, and he still doesn't know what that is.
[Despite all that...]
I still intend to write that novel. The way I see it, I can't disappear until that's done.
You see? You don't want to die. You already have a reason to live... As for me, it's enough just to know that you'll write one. How long it takes isn't important. But...
[ It really is unlike him to speak in this way, but Dazai does find it to be necessary. His singular goal since arriving here has been to Odasaku the life that he wants; to let him live in a world full of warmth and light. A world where he's alive and writing a novel. A world that he won't disappear from.
He always excludes himself from those possible worlds in the end.
But there is a faint pang of nostalgia now, and Dazai does think once more that he'd like to read it. He'd like to see everything finished.
He wonders how long it's been since he looked forward to something. ]
If I were to die without ever reading it, then I could be called nothing but a fool. I've never once been disappointed by what you've shared with me.
Our agreement hasn't changed all that much then. [Oda says it quietly, not without some fondness, his eyes momentarily trained on where his fingers tap against the bar.
[After that, he straightens up, turning slightly in his seat to fully face Dazai.]
We're both here until that novel is written. I won't half-ass it.
[He'll write it just the way it's meant to be written. He will, he just...needs to keep trying.]
Maybe we'll find a place or two like this along the way. That sounded nice too.
[A quiet few beats. His fingers continue to tap on the bar.]
It isn't the same. I know that too. Still. I'm glad.
[ Nothing is the same. The truth is, Dazai really does hate being here. He was meant to constantly be close to death, and he was meant to make plans that he would see through to fruition. He was meant for anything but this peaceful yet chaotic life.
Dazai traces his finger along the rim of the glass. ]
... Odasaku. Do you really believe that I bear no responsibility for what happened to you?
[ It seems unrelated, but it's not, because everything stems from a singular moment. It's all due to a preventable tragedy. It's a sore point for him, too, something that he's kept locked up tight, and even now takes care in how he approaches.
It's not really asking if Odasaku blames him. It's something else, some nagging feeling that always accompanies these conversations, something that leads him to search the other's face for any sign of disapproval now. It's something else. It's that awareness that everything is different and everything has broken, and some instinctive fear that what they're talking about will never come, and it's...
Dazai doesn't know what he would do if Odasaku were to start to hate him. ]
[Odasaku barely has to consider the question. He blames himself. For everything, he blames himself. He fell for too many traps, put too much at risk, failed too many people, burnt himself out in one final rage--
[No. He doesn't blame Dazai at all. He hates himself too much to see anything else.]
No. It wasn't your fault.
[This Dazai wasn't there. How much did that Dazai blame himself?]
Those are my mistakes. That's why...
[He doesn't finish the thought, or maybe it's only meant to be a statement.]
[ That's all he needed. That's all he wanted. He just wanted to hear that, even if it's only a momentary relief.
It's enough, it should be enough, but - ]
It's not your fault, Odasaku. Nothing that happened is your fault.
[ It's sharp and immediate, more emotional than he would have thought himself capable of, and he has to take a breath and force himself to release his grip on his glass. He shakes his head, as though to dispel whatever might have possessed him, and Dazai himself can't possibly understand what it is fueling it.
He's calmer as he continues, quieter, more what one would expect of the Port Mafia's youngest executive, ]
It was a conflict between the Port Mafia, Mimic, and various government agencies. You are undeniably one of ours, [ When it's convenient, ] And an invaluable skill user, [ Because it's convenient, ] But you play no role in any conflicts we engage in. It's everyone else who failed you.
[ Dazai has to be careful with his words now, because to fail at that is to invite further strife. But even if he removes himself from the equation, those in leadership had undeniably failed Odasaku. He may have been the lowest ranking member, but he was one of their own, and he was an invaluable skill user. There were countless reasons not to sacrifice him. If Mori had only confided in him, Dazai could have thought of countless ways to deal with Mimic without ever involving him.
He cups his glass with both hands, staring down at it. ]
... If they were your mistakes, then they were mine too.
[ Because Dazai knew Mori better than anyone. He knew Ango. His intellect and strategic skill far exceed any of them, and he had all the information in the world at his fingertips as the Boss' right hand man. He had all of that, and so he had decided to take it upon himself to decide what the best course of action was; how to care for his one and only friend.
He had decided to put the orphans in that building. Dazai had been confident in it. But he can't remember. There's so much that he's missing. He only has the afterglow of the next twenty-four hours and four years.
Dazai's smile returns as he looks back up, as though it had never left, ]
All you did was trust the people around you... Right? You just lived the way that a person should.
[Maybe it's all true. It was strange for Mori to saddle Odasaku with the task of finding Ango - he must have known that he would go to any lengths to do so, that he wouldn't question it for a moment...
[Because Ango Sakaguchi was his friend. They met and drank together. They talked about nothing. They took photographs. They were, all three of them, content with each other's company.
[Odasaku doesn't make friends easily. Dazai made it his mission to gather only eight, and Odasaku still hasn't accomplished it. Ango was a massive loss, an unthinkable betrayal. It still pierces Odasaku, wedges itself in his gut and twists. He's quiet too long.
[And Dazai, gripping his glass, struggling to smile as he normally does - that pierces Odasaku too.
["You just lived the way that a person should." Isn't it true that people should be able to trust the ones they care about, the ones that fight on the same side? It's something he still struggles to understand. He can blame himself all day for being foolish enough to fall for it - and he will, he always will - but can he really say that Dazai is wrong?
[No. He can't. And so, he doesn't know what to say at all. He grips his glass a little tighter too, brows pinched. It's a pained expression.
[At last, his voice comes, quiet.]
I couldn't protect them. I promised I would, and I couldn't.
[ Dazai purses his lips. He offers no platitudes, no words of comfort, because none of that matters. He's been fed hundreds of lines himself, so he knows how little any of it means.
Nihil admirari—help the man mentioned above without hesitation in the face of any and all trials.
Those are the words that were written of the silver oracle, which was had proven to nothing more than a useless scrap of paper within their organization. Dazai had failed to protect him.
No words of comfort come to mind, nothing that will magically heal the deep wound that's been inflicted upon the other's hearts, and so he settles for what words do, ]
No one can escape the night, Odasaku, not even you... Not even I could escape it.
[ Dazai can work within it, and he could become the night itself if so inclined, but there is no escaping it once its set its sight upon you. He forces his posture to relax, placing a hand on Odasaku's arm. ]
You are also a weak person who is in need of protection.
[ They're not meant to be words of comfort. He doesn't have anything that could pass for that. It's only what he can say. Odasaku is also a weak person. That is why Dazai had wanted to protect him too. If he could have removed the other altogether much sooner, he would have. ]
[Dazai speaks, and the words are difficult to digest. "No one can escape the night, Odasaku, not even you." True enough, in that broad sort of way, he supposes, but then...
[Dazai speaks again.
["You are also a weak person in need of protection."
[Odasaku's expression rarely changes. He's long been told that others find it impossible to tell what he's thinking, because how could they? He's a stone.
[The stone cracks - surprise, confusion, or something worse, buried so deeply inside that he'd forgotten entirely what it feels like to have it pulled to the surface. It's young. It's raw, somehow, despite the denial that still rages against it, the impulse to disagree.
It's weak.
[Rarely has Odasaku been afforded the luxury of feeling weak.
[Protection? Who has ever taken the time to protect Odasaku? He's Japan's most deadly assassin, feared by name alone, a member of the Port Mafia, low-ranking as he may be, but...
[Osamu Dazai is his friend. Every night, they talk for hours; Odasaku isn't lonely. Every morning, they make each other coffee; Odasaku can stay upright. They share, they strategize. They raced carousel animals and talked of dragons. They met at fifteen with no memory of each other, and still walked hand in hand. Dazai handed him the tools to write the book he's always dreamed of.
[He pushed Odasaku away. Magic trapped everyone in bubbles, planted images in their minds, made them feel calm, angry, in love. Dazai wouldn't accept it. He pushed him away, and...
[That was protection too.
[When everyone in the world turned against Odasaku, Dazai tried to save him.
[He couldn't protect him, just the same way that Odasaku couldn't protect the children. They both understand something terrible, even as they are now, don't they?
[Who cares about a goddamn kiss? Odasaku realizes for the first time in his life that someone loves him.
[And he can't stop staring, looking more human then ever, that terrible, ever-rising well of emotion within him threatening to swallow him completely. He sets down his glass, and it clinks too loudly. Has the club gone quiet, or are his ears just ringing?]
Dazai...
[Osamu Dazai...
[At last, Odasaku's eyes fall away, brow frowning over them. He nods his head, though it just barely moves.
[ It's an expression that Dazai has never seen before. Oda Sakunosuke isn't the stoic or mythological figure that some make him out to be though; he's Dazai's simple human, strong and heartfelt yet vulnerable and weak, and loved. He's the legendary assassin, the lowest ranking member of the Port Mafia, a mafioso who raises orphans and refuses to kill, and the only friend that he has in this world; that he might in any world.
Loving him is as much an instinct and a chose as the act of breathing. It comes to him without thought, without any recognition or any need to acknowledge it, much less attribute a word to it, if he would choose not to then it would surely kill him. He could lose him, but never give him up, and he knows in his heart that even the worst world for him would be the only worth living in so long as he could save him. He's what makes this world worth living in.
Dazai's shoulders sink, and a tension that he hadn't realized he was holding eases from his muscles. His expression softens in turn, a soft smile gracing his face. ]
... Should we toast tonight too?
[ Dazai lifts his glass, just the same as always. ]
[That's their beauty, isn't it? Whether they be gods, ordinary men, or something in between, they accept each other completely, unconsciously, without any more thought than one gives to the blood flowing through their veins.
["Should we toast tonight too?" More so than ever, they should toast tonight, Odasaku thinks.
[That third seat will always remain empty. Even if Ango Sakaguchi walked through the door right now, what the three of them had can never be the same again. There's grief to that. Of course there is.
[But, for as much as Odasaku and Dazai may have changed, that bond they crafted together in Bar Lupin never will. Odasaku truly believes that.
[And he lifts his glass.]
To the stray dogs. [If that still means Ango, too, in whatever small way that it can...
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cw: suicide
There are countless words. There are too many, none quite right, none that promise to be free from the possibility of rejection.
Dazai nods. ]
... You don't want to die, [ He adds to the answer, voice low, ] You didn't want to die before either. "I want to die" and "I don't want to live" are two different things.
[ Dazai wants to die. His comments are treated like a joke. People hardly believe him when he says that he won't come back. He will not though, because from the moment he was born he was already dead. He was never meant to live at all.
He knows better than anyone how frightening it is, how unbearably painful it is, but nothing of what it means to have "worth." It's all just which proves to be more frightening.
If he digs into the recesses of his memories, Dazai thinks that he can remember somebody finding comfort in this sort of gesture - somebody running their had through his hair, speaking softly, but he's not sure. Much of his life has slipped through the cracks, and there's only so much that he can recall from before he found himself living in a storage container. But that's not his focus. ]
If the world were a righteous place, then people who still have stories they wish to share with others could do so and people who wish for sleep would be granted it. There's nothing so kind in any world though.
[ He takes his hand back, resting it on his lap once more. It's not a lecture, but rather a simple statement of his feelings, as it's only those around him that have assigned such great value to his life.
Dazai looks down, uncertainty coloring his features, ]
You're here now. You have people who would be saddened by your disappearance. That's all that really matters.
no subject
[It's awkward, the clear result of someone trying to mirror something they don't necessarily understand. It's such a genuine gesture, though - must be, or else Dazai wouldn't waste a moment doing it. Odd as it is, it does bring comfort. The mere fact Dazai tries at all brings comfort. His words do. He's right. Oda didn't want to die. He just couldn't continue living.
[Dazai pulls his hand away, and Odasaku is sure that his own face has broken wide open. In reality, the pained expression is subtle, albeit present. Inside, he feels like his heart has swelled with the weight of the endless ocean. It's nauseating.]
I wasn't thinking that way. [A truth, but he fails to hook it properly into place, leaving the thought half-finished.]
Dazai...
Do you remember when you gave me those gifts? [They haven't talked much about them since. Dazai disappeared shortly after.]
no subject
There's things that he can and will do here. This is one of them. It doesn't seem like enough though.
He nods in response. ]
Yeah.
[ It was an odd moment, as this one is, because Dazai has never tried to be this close to anyone. But... Odasaku needs someone to look out for him. He needs someone to create that life that he wants. There's no one longer anyone else that he can entrust that task to.
If Odasaku can see his novel to completion, then Dazai finds that would be proof that he was satisfied with his life. If Dazai could read that, then he thinks he could die without any regrets, knowing that everything was finished.
So he thinks about that moment often, and everything that should follow. ]
Why?
no subject
[Despite all that...]
I still intend to write that novel. The way I see it, I can't disappear until that's done.
And I'd like to show it to you once it is.
no subject
[ It really is unlike him to speak in this way, but Dazai does find it to be necessary. His singular goal since arriving here has been to Odasaku the life that he wants; to let him live in a world full of warmth and light. A world where he's alive and writing a novel. A world that he won't disappear from.
He always excludes himself from those possible worlds in the end.
But there is a faint pang of nostalgia now, and Dazai does think once more that he'd like to read it. He'd like to see everything finished.
He wonders how long it's been since he looked forward to something. ]
If I were to die without ever reading it, then I could be called nothing but a fool. I've never once been disappointed by what you've shared with me.
extremely gay passage thank you
[After that, he straightens up, turning slightly in his seat to fully face Dazai.]
We're both here until that novel is written. I won't half-ass it.
[He'll write it just the way it's meant to be written. He will, he just...needs to keep trying.]
Maybe we'll find a place or two like this along the way. That sounded nice too.
[A quiet few beats. His fingers continue to tap on the bar.]
It isn't the same. I know that too. Still. I'm glad.
the closet is glass
[ Nothing is the same. The truth is, Dazai really does hate being here. He was meant to constantly be close to death, and he was meant to make plans that he would see through to fruition. He was meant for anything but this peaceful yet chaotic life.
Dazai traces his finger along the rim of the glass. ]
... Odasaku. Do you really believe that I bear no responsibility for what happened to you?
[ It seems unrelated, but it's not, because everything stems from a singular moment. It's all due to a preventable tragedy. It's a sore point for him, too, something that he's kept locked up tight, and even now takes care in how he approaches.
It's not really asking if Odasaku blames him. It's something else, some nagging feeling that always accompanies these conversations, something that leads him to search the other's face for any sign of disapproval now. It's something else. It's that awareness that everything is different and everything has broken, and some instinctive fear that what they're talking about will never come, and it's...
Dazai doesn't know what he would do if Odasaku were to start to hate him. ]
BABY BOY!!!
[No. He doesn't blame Dazai at all. He hates himself too much to see anything else.]
No. It wasn't your fault.
[This Dazai wasn't there. How much did that Dazai blame himself?]
Those are my mistakes. That's why...
[He doesn't finish the thought, or maybe it's only meant to be a statement.]
THIS THREAD WAS A MISTAKE
It's enough, it should be enough, but - ]
It's not your fault, Odasaku. Nothing that happened is your fault.
[ It's sharp and immediate, more emotional than he would have thought himself capable of, and he has to take a breath and force himself to release his grip on his glass. He shakes his head, as though to dispel whatever might have possessed him, and Dazai himself can't possibly understand what it is fueling it.
He's calmer as he continues, quieter, more what one would expect of the Port Mafia's youngest executive, ]
It was a conflict between the Port Mafia, Mimic, and various government agencies. You are undeniably one of ours, [ When it's convenient, ] And an invaluable skill user, [ Because it's convenient, ] But you play no role in any conflicts we engage in. It's everyone else who failed you.
[ Dazai has to be careful with his words now, because to fail at that is to invite further strife. But even if he removes himself from the equation, those in leadership had undeniably failed Odasaku. He may have been the lowest ranking member, but he was one of their own, and he was an invaluable skill user. There were countless reasons not to sacrifice him. If Mori had only confided in him, Dazai could have thought of countless ways to deal with Mimic without ever involving him.
He cups his glass with both hands, staring down at it. ]
... If they were your mistakes, then they were mine too.
[ Because Dazai knew Mori better than anyone. He knew Ango. His intellect and strategic skill far exceed any of them, and he had all the information in the world at his fingertips as the Boss' right hand man. He had all of that, and so he had decided to take it upon himself to decide what the best course of action was; how to care for his one and only friend.
He had decided to put the orphans in that building. Dazai had been confident in it. But he can't remember. There's so much that he's missing. He only has the afterglow of the next twenty-four hours and four years.
Dazai's smile returns as he looks back up, as though it had never left, ]
All you did was trust the people around you... Right? You just lived the way that a person should.
god how dare you make me think about odango
[Because Ango Sakaguchi was his friend. They met and drank together. They talked about nothing. They took photographs. They were, all three of them, content with each other's company.
[Odasaku doesn't make friends easily. Dazai made it his mission to gather only eight, and Odasaku still hasn't accomplished it. Ango was a massive loss, an unthinkable betrayal. It still pierces Odasaku, wedges itself in his gut and twists. He's quiet too long.
[And Dazai, gripping his glass, struggling to smile as he normally does - that pierces Odasaku too.
["You just lived the way that a person should." Isn't it true that people should be able to trust the ones they care about, the ones that fight on the same side? It's something he still struggles to understand. He can blame himself all day for being foolish enough to fall for it - and he will, he always will - but can he really say that Dazai is wrong?
[No. He can't. And so, he doesn't know what to say at all. He grips his glass a little tighter too, brows pinched. It's a pained expression.
[At last, his voice comes, quiet.]
I couldn't protect them. I promised I would, and I couldn't.
stop i didn't want to think about it either
[ Dazai purses his lips. He offers no platitudes, no words of comfort, because none of that matters. He's been fed hundreds of lines himself, so he knows how little any of it means.
Nihil admirari—help the man mentioned above without hesitation in the face of any and all trials.
Those are the words that were written of the silver oracle, which was had proven to nothing more than a useless scrap of paper within their organization. Dazai had failed to protect him.
No words of comfort come to mind, nothing that will magically heal the deep wound that's been inflicted upon the other's hearts, and so he settles for what words do, ]
No one can escape the night, Odasaku, not even you... Not even I could escape it.
[ Dazai can work within it, and he could become the night itself if so inclined, but there is no escaping it once its set its sight upon you. He forces his posture to relax, placing a hand on Odasaku's arm. ]
You are also a weak person who is in need of protection.
[ They're not meant to be words of comfort. He doesn't have anything that could pass for that. It's only what he can say. Odasaku is also a weak person. That is why Dazai had wanted to protect him too. If he could have removed the other altogether much sooner, he would have. ]
IDK IF U WANNA WRAP UP HERE?? OR??? LMK?!??!?!
[Dazai speaks again.
["You are also a weak person in need of protection."
[Odasaku's expression rarely changes. He's long been told that others find it impossible to tell what he's thinking, because how could they? He's a stone.
[The stone cracks - surprise, confusion, or something worse, buried so deeply inside that he'd forgotten entirely what it feels like to have it pulled to the surface. It's young. It's raw, somehow, despite the denial that still rages against it, the impulse to disagree.
[Rarely has Odasaku been afforded the luxury of feeling weak.
[Protection? Who has ever taken the time to protect Odasaku? He's Japan's most deadly assassin, feared by name alone, a member of the Port Mafia, low-ranking as he may be, but...
[Osamu Dazai is his friend. Every night, they talk for hours; Odasaku isn't lonely. Every morning, they make each other coffee; Odasaku can stay upright. They share, they strategize. They raced carousel animals and talked of dragons. They met at fifteen with no memory of each other, and still walked hand in hand. Dazai handed him the tools to write the book he's always dreamed of.
[He pushed Odasaku away. Magic trapped everyone in bubbles, planted images in their minds, made them feel calm, angry, in love. Dazai wouldn't accept it. He pushed him away, and...
[That was protection too.
[When everyone in the world turned against Odasaku, Dazai tried to save him.
[He couldn't protect him, just the same way that Odasaku couldn't protect the children. They both understand something terrible, even as they are now, don't they?
[Who cares about a goddamn kiss? Odasaku realizes for the first time in his life that someone loves him.
[And he can't stop staring, looking more human then ever, that terrible, ever-rising well of emotion within him threatening to swallow him completely. He sets down his glass, and it clinks too loudly. Has the club gone quiet, or are his ears just ringing?]
Dazai...
[Osamu Dazai...
[At last, Odasaku's eyes fall away, brow frowning over them. He nods his head, though it just barely moves.
[What else can he say, really, but:]
Yeah. [Yeah.]
Thanks...Dazai.
I WE CAN WRAP UP just this one last lil thing
Loving him is as much an instinct and a chose as the act of breathing. It comes to him without thought, without any recognition or any need to acknowledge it, much less attribute a word to it, if he would choose not to then it would surely kill him. He could lose him, but never give him up, and he knows in his heart that even the worst world for him would be the only worth living in so long as he could save him. He's what makes this world worth living in.
Dazai's shoulders sink, and a tension that he hadn't realized he was holding eases from his muscles. His expression softens in turn, a soft smile gracing his face. ]
... Should we toast tonight too?
[ Dazai lifts his glass, just the same as always. ]
To the stray dogs.
SICKENING. OH JUST SICKENING.
["Should we toast tonight too?" More so than ever, they should toast tonight, Odasaku thinks.
[That third seat will always remain empty. Even if Ango Sakaguchi walked through the door right now, what the three of them had can never be the same again. There's grief to that. Of course there is.
[But, for as much as Odasaku and Dazai may have changed, that bond they crafted together in Bar Lupin never will. Odasaku truly believes that.
[And he lifts his glass.]
To the stray dogs. [If that still means Ango, too, in whatever small way that it can...
[Odasaku can accept that.]