i have once again become absolutely insane about the odazai scene in bar lupin bc like. dazai is never this sincere, this open. as a general rule he is more open and genuine with oda than he is with other characters, but even then the beast lupin scene was a whole different level. and what gets me is this is all coming from a place of such sheer desperation. dazai, at the end of all that he's wrought, finds himself so desperately wanting, so desperately hoping, that oda will understand why he did what he did, that oda will see where he's coming from. he prepared for this, he literally bet on the fact that oda would not know him, would not care about him, would not like him or consider him a friend bc that's what dazai had to do to keep him safe, to keep the world where he can live and write novels from disappearing. and yet, faced with the actuality of that exact situation he's created... dazai can't help but beg oda to understand the reason for his actions
he wanted this. he planned for this. and as hard as that was for him to do, i don't think he could have ever fathomed how much it would hurt to truly be confronted with the reality of it
61 notes
·
View notes
In my mind (you're still here) - A Dazai Centred (plat) OdaZai Drabble
I don't remember when I wrote this...
I really love them so much like pls I wish Oda wouldn't have died bc I love him so much AAAAA
It's kinda angsty idk LOL
rough word count: 536
─────────────────
In my mind (you're still here)
These walls felt so cold and lonely now that he was gone.
Shattered glass, broken toys, papers scattered over the floor. A little stuffed animal, head ripped open, facing up, close to a nearly okay-looking chair. The joyous sounds of kids laughter were no more to be heard.
There, he stood, alone. With no family to go back to. Those kids were dead after all. And he, who took care of the brunette, offered shelter to a brat like him and went through all the trouble to escape with a suicidal freak, he too, had passed.
When he died, a part of Dazai had died as well. Hours, days, weeks the brunette spent at the grave, mumbling apologies and pleads for forgiveness that he couldn't save him, he who was most important to Dazai.
He should've known, shouldn't have let him do it all alone, convinced him to stay after he lost everything dear to him within a matter of seconds.
Dazai wasn't there when it happened, he had heard the explosion nonetheless. The only thing that was there when the brunette arrived were flames, the smell of smoke and a dream, the dream of a family, turned to dust.
Usually, Dazai shed no tears.
That night was an exception. Dazai had wept himself to sleep, in that small container of his. Thoughts and memories replayed in the executive's head, over and over. Nightmare after nightmare flooding Dazai's mind. The words spoken from his now dead friend stuck on repeat like a broken recorder.
"Be a good man" he said. How could those blue eyes ever see something remarkably close to good in Dazai? What possibly could be good about him? The brunette has so much blood on his hand, walked over so many corpses in his life.
There once was an emptiness in his heart, an all-destroying emptiness eating away on him inside. That emptiness had been filled by the love of a family Dazai could've never imagined to have.
A person who understood him better than anybody else. A person that made him believe that there was a reason to live for after all, even if not for himself. A person that filled this pit of darkness in his heart with warmth and comfort.
All of it shattered into a million pieces. Dazai had known all along that this would happen.
Mori, that bastard, only let Oda stay because he saw something useful in him. And Dazai blamed himself for having dragged Oda into this mess of an organisation.
Now, here he was – staring at a view of the ocean Dazai knew Oda would’ve loved to see himself, and write while watching the colours of the sunset reflect and illuminate on the water’s surface.
Sometimes Dazai tuned out the loud noises of the city behind him.
Sometimes he would stare at the deep blue of the sea while he imagined the redhead would tell him about the book he wanted to write.
Sometimes, just sometimes, he heard Oda’s voice, telling him that he was proud of Dazai and the man he had become.
And each time the brunette did, he ended up smiling to himself while the depth underneath him swallowed him whole once more.
7 notes
·
View notes