#dazai fell for him because he was so painfully human

[etrevil]

Chuuya's "I don't give a fuck", "the fuck you sayin'!", "what the fuck?", and "how the fuck-"

[bnesszai]

helloo hehe 🫶

kunichuuzai + “Those are my boyfriends.”

or skk + the word ‘black’

hihi<3

I decided to set this first one in my painterzai au:3

“Those are my boyfriends,” Dazai says, smiling wide.

Sigma rolls her eyes. “Yes, I'm aware. I'm pretty sure everyone with eyes is painfully aware, thank you.”

“But did you know that they're mine?”

Fighting down a smile, Sigma pinches Dazai's cheek. “You're annoying,” he says, “but I'm glad you're happy.”

Happiness is an odd thing for Dazai. It swirls around in their chest, weaving in and out of the spaces between overwhelming despair and numbness. Happiness never attaches to their ribs, but it stays, flowing in and out of their veins. Sometimes, when Chuuya and Kunikida look at Dazai like they're a sacred thing, the happiness stills, just for a moment.

It's warm and Dazai cradles it to his chest.

“Yeah,” they say after a bit. “I suppose I am.”

Sigma smiles. “Don't let them go.”

Dazai looks back across the gallery, watching Kunikida laugh and Chuuya laugh with an artist. Then, as if sensing Dazai's gaze, they both turn and give them Earth melting smiles.

Dazai has let go of many things in their life, refused to even reach out for many others. But those two, they think, those two are permanent.

“Never.”

*

And now to completely change the tone. Rip.

skk + black

It's pitch black when Chuuya wakes up.

Everything hurts. They haven't used corruption in a year, but his body doesn't forget how it felt to be torn apart. He needs a hot bath, but the idea of getting up is unbearable.

Outside, he can hear rain pounding against the pavement. Wind howls between buildings. It's a storm, and Chuuya can guess what will come next even before the flash of light blinds them.

Ice runs through his veins and Chuuya feels their heart pick up, slamming against their ribs in a desperate attempt to escape. And of course, Chuuya's headphones are in the kitchen, discarded on the counter from the last time they made dinner. And of course, it is 256am and so no one will be coming by, no one will be calling, and no one will distract him with video games.

Dazai used to.

At the thought, Chuuya clenches his jaw, hisses when pain shoots up to his skull.

On bad pain days, Dazai used to draw Chuuya a bath and carry him to it with minimal complaints. On stormy days, Dazai would break in and bait Chuuya with some sort of bet to play video games. The volume would be turned way too high, the windows would be blacked out, and Dazai would even through that awful, stink, black coat of his around Chuuya. If Chuuya fell asleep, he woke up with his head in Dazai's lap, Dazai's hair carding through his hair, and a light humming from the back of Dazai's throat.

It was the closest Chuuya ever felt to being a human.

Another bright flash, a loud rumbling. Chuuya throws a blanket over his head with a whimper. Dazai isn't here anymore. Double Black, they are still called, but only one of them remains.

Everything hurts, everything is either black or shocking, blinding white, and everything remains that way because Chuuya remains alone.

Chuuya wonders if the blackness of Dazai's soul finally consumed them. Chuuya wonders if it would creep in and swallow him whole, too

[rhiwdiliel-bsd-edition]

Camellias

An AU, where Soukoku has lived countless lives, in every one of them meeting the other.

Or, a work where I combine canon symbolism of camelias, reincarnation of soulmates trope, and a general adoration for Soukoku's suffering

19th of October, 1906

There came certain times when it seemed a strange aesthetic of gloom fell over humanity’s towns, painting them in the quiet depression, robbing them from the gentle hands of a coloured world. The flickering gaslights yellowed the grey of cracked, worn cobblestones, ones that beheld a history and memory further than that of any mortal. Their every chink, fissure and gap lamented the tragedy of the ichor that had seeped into their rifts, never to fade away till the world was changed. They lamented, and yet also they sung songs of past romance, where the tears of scarlet camelia petals had lodged themselves within the grit, ever to be stepped on by every passerby, as though it had not once burned with flames blessed with a divine intensity.

A dark, leather shoe’s heel stepped across these fragments of archaic history, ignorant of the earth it walked upon. It came to a halt beneath one of those aforementioned gaslights, peering up into its moth clouded glow. The thin wings in their flocks seemed to miraculously block out the brightness, dancing their last, graceful brush against their inevitable death. Why were they ever attracted to the fatal flames, when they only brought them an immeasurable agony? Why did they remain basking in that torment till the curse of life left them to drop uselessly to the ground?

Perhaps they suffered a philosophy not unlike that which Dazai bore, that it was more desirable to experience a worldly pleasure and have it end in despair rather than to let oneself hollow into naught more but a shell of one’s past self. It was for this worldly pleasure that he had walked on history’s veins, and it came bearing fire upon its head, adorned in a casing that made it reminiscent of the gaslight.

As Dazai approached the flame, the darkness of his shadow fell upon it, as though he really was but a moth in the face of such an attraction. He leant forward, and caught a flicker of heat upon his cigarette from the other’s, braving a proximity none dared to tread, for often did they end up amidst the moths’ broken corpses. Yet no harm fell upon him despite his daring, and he moved back, a smile caressing the cigarette between his chapped lips.

“Don’t you own a lighter, dear Detective?” The words were naught more than a low whisper, echoing in the cold stillness of the haunted street, seemingly emptied by the presence of Chuuya alone. Only the aged bloodstains, torn, dry petals, dying moths and Dazai remained. “Oh, but isn’t it so much more fun to do this? Just because I can?” His reply was equally as quiet, almost enchantingly hinted with a childish happiness. Chuuya’s gaze seemed to be foreign to this environment, bearing a blue found within the splashing waves of the sea. It was thoughtful, and his features of an equal nature were disfigured with wisps of smoke. “No, because one of these days, Detective, you’re going to miscalculate, and you’re going to pay the rather costly price in full.”

“No, I won’t. My suffering pains you, Boss.” The last word on Dazai’s tongue was a stretched, mocking drawl of a title he did not bear obligation to use, but often wished to employ it for his own amusement. How painfully entertaining, to speak such a word to one’s mortal enemy, to watch how their eyes darkened, and that scoff without laughter left their lips. “Maybe in another life, Detective.”

“Don’t be so certain, Chuuya. It’s possible that we have lived many lives, and all of them have ended with our union.”

19th of October, 1625

That cobblestone street of history seemed ever to have snaked its way across that street, which slept as though neath a blissful spell. From such a spell only two had escaped, dashing about with only the illumination of lightening crackling across the sky. It seemed that with every deafening clap of thunder, there followed that terrible, bright flash, revealing only a solitude from which there was no saviour save one another. The air hung in a cold stillness, and it seemed as though the sky itself held its breath for the two below, peeking through the near invisible sifts within the dark masses holding it hostage.

The pattering of running boots echoed through the silence, followed by two sets of gasping breaths. Still, they remained alone, without the danger of company, even as they trod across the memories of camellia petals, tainting the ground with drops of their maroon blood, shining almost black at the mercy of the heavens. It seeped within the cobblestone cracks, deep to the remnants of a past they had once known.

“Chuuya, I-I can’t, we have to be safe now, I can’t--” The words were gasps more so than they were syllables, and were followed by the dull thud of knees striking the ground, unable to support themselves and the weight upon them any longer. More of that precious lifeblood stained about them, as though marking fate’s random footsteps. There came a heavy pause, one of great hesitance, worry seeming to pierce the fog about them, before another such dull thud followed, this one considerably quieter and more controlled, and a bleeding hand reached out to caress a cold cheek.

“It’s alright, Dazai, we’ll… We’ll rest now. Everything’s going to be alright. We can rest here, they won’t find us.” False reassurances spoken from a throat that had only just reached maturity, formed by lips that had never before known even a dryness, let alone an injury. Though the youthfulness of Chuuya’s features was darker now, it seemed that as Dazai shifted forward to collapse into a breaking embrace, they returned to the age they ought to have been at, revealing the true nature of the lovers upon stone, of two youths who had experienced the fear of a soldier in war, and likewise such injury, who now sat upon the town’s essence, silently begging it for a relief they would not soon know.

“I’m... I’m so tired, Chuuya... I just... I wish, I wish things were like they were supposed to be.” Dazai’s exhausted voice was muffled against the stained fabric of Chuuya’s dress shirt, one that spoke of a peaceful, domestic night that had dwelt upon them in its kindness before any sort of horrors came to pass, before any blade or cruelty of human hand had forced itself upon them, before any such hurt had taken their blood and poured it upon the cobblestones, as though it were decorating the grey with the colour of life.

The sky released its bated breath with the relief of tears now, knowing they had lodged themselves in a temporary pocket of safety, away from life and its countless threats. It seemed each word of Chuuya’s response was punctuated by a splatter of a raindrop upon the ground, which pushed the blood to mix with the grit, till it was the ichor that was fated to remain for centuries onwards.

“I know, Dazai. Maybe in another life, we’re happier, and we have nothing to worry about. Maybe in another life, the only blood we’ll ever bleed is from paper cuts and scratches from thorns. Maybe in another life, the only tears we’ll cry are those of overwhelming happiness.”

19th of October, 25 AD

There had once been a time when the cobblestone was untainted and knew only the kindness of footsteps, be they laden with joy or otherwise. It memorised every imprint upon shoe soles, every line upon a foot, every arch that refused to touch the ground and every one that did. It basked in the warmth of the sun, and watched the travelling galaxies of stars when night fell. The path was young, and yet unrefined by time with its harsh grip. Its stone was tickled now, by the gentle brush of camellia petals that would soon come to disintegrate into a scarlet powder that would litter the ground for centuries to come, reflective of the stars dusting the darkness above.

The petals fell gently from small hands, belonging to children who had not even seen the world for a decade. Their bare feet fell lightly upon the warm stone, curving around the cobblestones. Their skin gleamed in the pale October light, still sun-kissed from the summer months. They picked at camellia flowers, unaware of the poetry falling between their fingers. They did not know that they scattered whispers of noble death, that they beckoned blood to taint those forgotten petals. They did not know that they sowed a deep and intense passion of love, one that would not come to pass till the barriers of society collapsed into insignificant flecks.

“Chuuya? I want to do this forever and ever! To run and play with you, and pick camellias all day!” The words floated upon peals of laughter that rang out across the fields, coming from the smiling mouth of a child that was, in every life, in every other instance, bandaged all over in a desperate attempt to mask the various, scarred lines of both self and world inflicted suffering, yet here, remained unbandaged, pure, unscarred.

Dazai’s eyes were as though pools of darkened sunlight, recalling the flow of sweet honey and the precious jewel of amber formed by millennia that was incomprehensible to the human mind. They shone brightly with an ecstasy that only children could know, and gazed upon the brown and orange gifts of autumn in an awed wonder. He turned to the one beside him, and beamed as he saw a mirror expression on Chuuya’s young features.

“I want to do that too! Then we’d always be happy. Mama says that there’s a story about how best friends can come back to life after they die, and they come back as new people. We’re going to have fun and be happy forever and ever!” The last words were punctuated with a sudden flurry of scarlet, and the petals floated about them as gentle rain. Some fell into locks of Chuuya’s hair, interlacing with the soft, ginger waves that fell into eyes that were reminiscent of a tranquil sea’s breaths upon the sandy shore, knowing only peace, oft highlighted with childish glee, as seashells floating upon the water.

They graced the environment with their blissful joy, and enhanced the air with peals of laughter. They let the world know of their happiness, and squealed gleefully, every drop of their merriness captured in a scarlet petal. They spread it freely, not knowing its value, not knowing the rarity of that which they gave away as though it was the most common thing, as though it was not something they would be greatly deprived of in their years to come. They were innocent, their ignorance brought them an angelic purity that they would forget, never to remember it again, never to even know of it save in dreams that would bless them only upon nights when the moon was particularly fond of them.

“Yes, we’re going to have a hundred thousand lives, and all of them are going to be happy!”

[xxxsoukokuxxx]

Temptation

Character: Dazai Osamu

Warnings: tw suicide; tw mentions of past self harm; depressing themes; death

Notes: ...I have nothing to say

____________________________________________________

Grey-ish blue waters show a storm brewing in them, mimicking the sky and maybe even a certain brunette's eye. Emptiness is all you could see on the outside, a lost soul without direction. On the inside it was a whole different story, storms of every kind wrecked havoc and clouded his vision. But then came a sudden stillness...everything was quiet, just nothing. The wind was icy cold as it slowly blew across his skin, little droplets of rain dampening his brown locks. It was one late afternoon, when temptation got the better of him, perhaps it was for the best.

He stood at the edge of the bridge, his eyes boring into the water beneath him. A heartbeat he couldn't feel, a tear drop he couldn't shed. He was now just numb, an unfeeling being. Human being? Never would he convince himself that he was one, so painfully and terribly so. Bandages that once wrapped his arms so perfectly were now loose and some of it just dangling from his pale wrists and arms. Scars littered the underside of his forearms, memories of torturous nights and lonely afternoons. Some of it just because he loved to see the way blood dribbled and eventually flowed out.

The water was calm, serene even. He can't take it, how did he even live this long? My mistake, how did he exist for this long? He could never imagine himself actually living. What value is there in this thing we call living? Nothing. There's nothing. Nothing matters. He closes his eyes as if some sort of peace washed over him, but also a sense of resigning himself to the hands of death.

How beautiful the idea of death is. How wonderful! Death is just a black nothingness, no pain, no feeling, nothing. Just peace. He chuckled ironically, finally he'd die! Finally he'd escape from a world that tainted him so, so much! He leaned some of his body weight forwards not yet going over to meet the waters in blissfulness. His eyes open once again, his chocolate brown orbs containing nothing in them. Just like his very being, our eyes are the window to the soul after all but only very few of us open up that window in the presence of others.

Soft echoes of thunder can be heard in the distance, just like how his heart once beat. No longer could he feel it, it all stopped a long time ago. What's the use of dragging on and on like this?

His lean body falls forward and a content smile graces his forlorn face. Tears of happiness or maybe even freedom from the shackles that once held him to the ground escaped his tired and heavy lidded eyes. His arms out stretched as if hugging death as he fell towards the water below. A splash of water is all anyone would see from any other view besides his. The sea became a bit rough due to the storm approaching. Huh, all those nights getting wasted learning how to let it out were a waste! He should've just held the gun to his head and pulled the trigger long ago! Instead he chose to drown in his misery.

But this was far from misery, very far indeed. It was bliss. Bliss I tell you! Bliss! Pale brown orbs that lost all it's color opened and gazed at the pale blue water he was beneath. His body sinking, his hand glided through the water gently, he was like a child who felt so immensely happy playing in a field of flowers and butterflies, this was just his paradise.

He closed his eyes after taking one last look above him, all he could see was the blurred sky rippled by water. He craned his neck back and tilted his head backwards. Ah this was beautiful. Slowly could he feel himself slipping away, softly, gently. He could feel himself falling asleep and only heard soft crashing of waves. The water drowned out all his senses and eventually...death tempted his very being to be in it's arms and that's where he is. Sleeping peacefully in death's slumber.

[loverofthousands]

Probably// Dazai Osamu

Even if forever passes, I know

White sheets you once shared now lay barren with not a single trace of him, but you were no longer surprised. You knew from the start that a relationship with Dazai Osamu would be a rocky road, one that no one dared to take and for good reason. Yet you still chose to stay. Did that make your love noble? Or foolish?

A sigh passes through your lips, sitting up from your bed, eyes wandering around the apartment that held the shining memories of the love that blossomed between the both of you. If one could even call it "love" in the first place. It's both fascinating and sad how such memories that once shone like stars now rot and rust in the dark.

Anything and everything has an end, he once told you. Was that it? Was this the ending he meant? Was this the end of your story? Why does it matter anyway? You knew you couldn't stop it. You knew you couldn't stop him. So you just gritted your teeth and watched him drift away from you slowly and painfully, day by day.

Days flew by like the hands of a ticking clock, over and over again, endlessly and mercilessly, almost cruel in every tick, mocking you as it grew weaker and weaker. Rather than a clock, it reminded you more of a time bomb. Any moment now, it could explode. Any moment now, he could leave in the morning and never come back at all. But still...

"Welcome home." You smiled, brightly.

He'd leave in the morning and come home at night. Again and again, almost like a routine. And there you were waiting for him to return only to mutter those very words with an empty smile in your face. Again, and again, as if both of you were trapped in this time bubble that both of you never tried to break.

"Welcome home." Your voice cracked ever so slightly.

Was fate cruel, or was he? Both of you knew this path only led to destruction, but still, he stayed. You stayed. Dragging out this twisted relationship, wearing it thin until it inevitably breaks, and perhaps tearing out any strings that attached you to this man.

"Welcome home."  You stared at the ground, eyes swollen.

You didn't choose for it to be this way, and he didn't as well. Or at least you hope he didn't. You hoped with all your heart that all those smiles and kisses, and touches were not fake, even though Dazai, himself, is rarely genuine. Still, you hoped he loved you the way you had loved him, unconditionally.

"Welcome home." You smiled at him, numbly.

Not a single trace of tears can be seen in your face, only the strange hollowness of what had once been happiness and love and contentment. A mere human can only take so much before they break. You were tired, and you knew he was as well. But if there was anything you had in common, it was that both of you were cowards. So even if it was torturous...

"Welcome back..." He laughed. Your heart ached just a bit.

Whose fault was it, truly? But at this point, it's all meaningless. Every fault and flaw and mistake all blurred out in time. You fixed yourself a cup of coffee, mindlessly stirring it as your memories with Dazai consume you. Tears fell on the marble counter. This could be the day he leaves, or it could be tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or...

You hate it. You hate him. But the person you hate the most is yourself. But still, your heart uttered a silent wish. A wish to turn the hands of the clock. A wish to turn back time. Then maybe you won't have to let him go. Just maybe. But reality had always been cruel. No matter how earnestly one wishes for something, it will never come true. You smiled sadly, bringing the cup to your lips and cringing at the coffee's bitterness. Maybe it was because he's not beside you, but that morning was exceptionally chilly.

If all our kind and gentle days grow bitter in our wake, that time together flows too far away to turn back again someday...

~~~~~~

Song: Probably- (English ver.) YOASOBI - たぶん / Tabun (Lucy)

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 9: Scheming anew (Part 2)

Warnings: none

Author notes: I had so much fun writing the interaction between Ogawa and our one and only Kunikida...! They really are opposite and it felt good writing something lighter...! Hope you like it too!

As he was unconscious, I untied the ropes around my wrists and used them to tie him down, before rushing toward the room I rented without being seen by the policemen. I had escaped, but I was now a fugitive who had raised a hand against an inspector... It could have been better, but I would have been condemned to death for killing someone if things had kept going. Swiftly, I locked the door and pulled out the box of syringes to take one and inject the drug in my vein, hoping its effects would relieve me soon. Then, I removed a wooden plank from the floor and pulled out hidden magazines for my guns. I had hidden them, judging unnecessary to use them, but they could be useful at this very moment. I would not hesitate to shoot to preserve this freedom I had acquired after running from the Port Mafia.

Soon enough, the door to my room trembled and the voice of this annoying man echoed through the wood. He was asking me to surrender, so we could perhaps negotiate my judgement for the trial, but I did not need such a thing. I was innocent, and I would prove it. Gathering my strength, I climbed through the window and reached the neighbouring one. The policemen had taken their break and the room was empty, with only the woman's body left alone in its original position. I examined it immediately, surprised they had not taken it out for an autopsy, but then again, policemen were incompetent. I looked around the room, hoping to find something — anything — which could help me solve this murder case. Through the thin walls between the two rooms, I heard that they successfully entered my place and were more likely looking for me or proof of my guilt. Except the box of syringes which could be mistaken as drugs, I had nothing to hide. They would tire themselves trying to find hints which did not exist. I frowned and took a minute to think. No trace of aggression... The weapon could be either an ability or poison. If an ability user powerful enough could kill someone without raving a single trace, then the government would certainly be after him and there was no way he could be involved with this rather insignificant case. Which left the poisoning option. Except by doing an autopsy, I could not determine which substance had killed this woman nor how it had been administered. Nevertheless, I did recall that the struggling had stopped at once, as if she had been knocked out suddenly. I had not heard any grunts or whimpers from someone being forcefully shoved something into their mouth would emit, meaning the poison had been given externally. I chuckled, running a hand through my messily tied hair. A syringe was the most plausible option, and I was quite knowledgeable about them. The victim was wearing a sleeveless top; she could have been attacked around her arms. Carefully, I kneeled next to her and examined her skin. There it was, the small wound caused by the needle carelessly planted into her skin. The blood had stopped circulating so the haemorrhage was now barely visible, but it was there. With some luck, she would have struggled so much that the murderers could have lost the syringe... I closed the curtains and turned off the light, before pulling out my phone and tapping on the torch application. If the needle was still in the room, the faint light would make it shine. It did. I picked the clue up with a handkerchief not to dirty it with my fingerprints, between two planks of wood, and decided to leave the room. I had everything I needed.

"Anything interesting in there?" I casually leaned onto the door frame of my own room, staring as the blonde man was looking everywhere.

"Y-You...! How...?" His eyes widened and he stomped toward me.

I dodged him as he tried to catch my wrist and placed the handkerchief with the needle in his palm.

"While you were pointlessly trying to accuse me, I was looking for useful clues on the crime scene. The victim was poisoned. The weapon is a syringe." I stated "Do you believe I'm innocent, now?"

"I did find a box full of syringes under your bed. Doesn't that prove you're the culprit?" He narrowed his eyes "Not to mention you got me good there... It'll ache for a week at least..."

I scoffed as he rubbed his neck painfully.

"Consider yourself lucky I did not use a gun." I shrugged it off "Your colleges did not even check if I was carrying firearms. Anyway, I —"

"Do you?"

"Eh?"

"Do you carry any firearm?" He groaned.

"I do." I looked blankly at him "May I keep proving I am not the murderer?"

"... Go on..." He gave up "We're at a loss for clues anyway. If only Ranpo-san was there..."

"Well..." I cleared my throat "What you found in my room is morphine. I am sick and I may or may not use medication excessively... Whatever, the point is, an overdose of morphine would cause respiratory depression, which the victim did not suffer from. I was a witness. She was struggling, then suddenly fell to the floor. Morphine would not do that. I believe there was something else in the needle you're holding, but I'll leave that to the lab. There could be countless possibilities of poisons..."

"You sound well-versed in such shady business..." He became suspicious again.

"I do not belong to your world, after all..." I smirked "I have to admit the method to kill the woman is intelligent and soundless. If it were me, I would have most certainly shot her between her eyes... Ah, but I would have taken my gun silencer, of course. To sum it up, I'm not the one you're looking for, glassy."

"... Glassy...?" He raised an eyebrow "Why, I admit your explanations are logical but... Are you sure you aren't giving me a reason to arrest you? You do carry firearms and you sound like a hitman..."

"A hitman...? That's too glorious a name for me." I chucked "I am a forgotten human of the underworld, you should not meddle too much with me. As long as you don't arrest me, I will let you off. And, you owe me one for helping you with the case, anyway."

"Let's say I owe you one. Would you trust my words if I said I would not arrest you?"

"Obviously not." I grinned "That is, if I could not accurately read your mind. I'm a monster, an ability user who can hear your thoughts as though you were speaking at loud. Will you arrest me?"

"The law says I must. Thus..." He showed me a pair of handcuffs "Surrender, please."

"You're a man of words. You do as you think." I told him "It's rare to see people as honest as you nowadays... However, this honesty of yours will be your very end..."

"I want to do my job with peace of mind." He defended "I arrest you, not because I have something against you but because you did illegal things. Do not think I am being ungrateful."

"Oh, I don't think so." I shook my head "What you do is right. But I haven't grown in righteousness."

As these words escaped my throat, I swiftly ran past him into my room and reached out for the balcony.

"I will not let you arrest me. Now..." I pulled out a gun and aimed at him "Hands up and face toward the wall."

The man reluctantly complied, but I was in a superior position and, unless reinforcements were to come, I was sure to win.

"Farewell, glassy~" I hummed, escaping through the balcony.

I stayed a moment, holding onto the edge, until I heard his footsteps hurrying out of the room. When I was sure he had exited it, I climbed back inside and simply walked toward the staircases, heading toward the roof where he would not find me. This man was too idealistic. He was too honest, too. To easily be fooled by my little trick... I had never hoped he would fall for it, but well... At least, he had stayed true to himself and had respected the law as his ideals ordered him. I leaned onto the fence, looking at the alley beneath me. The man was running around, trying to look at me, but it was to no use since I was just above his head.

"Well, he'll just give up sooner or later." I shrugged it off, putting my gun back into the holster "And I'll be able to rest in peace..."

I smiled at my pun and sat down on the roof, pulling a box of pain relievers out of my pocket. I would simply wait for the police to leave before regaining my room and the dirty bed, where I would lay and go back to my routine of drugs until I could finally die.

"There is no way you can rest in peace in such a substandard room." One noted, sitting next to me "Why do you always choose such shabby places?"

"Um..." I did not realise someone was talking to me "Money issues? If I'm going to die, I won't spend much on my living expenses, anyway. So —"

I stopped myself and stared at the one next to me. It had felt so natural… I had not noticed.

"What are you doing here, Dazai...?" I almost breathed out, strength leaving my limbs suddenly.

"I escaped from Kunikida-kun to slack off freely~" He explained "You tricked him well. Did not expect you to hit him with a chair either~"

"I care about this illusion of freedom too much to go to jail." I answered "What I meant was, what is the reason for your presence here?"

"Well..." He pulled out a cigarette "Do you mind?"

I shook my head. He lit it up and brought it to his mouth. The way he smoked differed from Chūya's, in that his fingers were more slender and his movements more graceful. I had only seen him a couple of times with a cigarette, when, sometimes, the burdens of his heart had been too much to bear. He exhaled, and the little smoke cloud faded in the cool air of the ending afternoon.

"I came for the murder, with my colleague, Kunikida-kun." He explained.

"Are you with the police, now?" I raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"No no...!" He laughed "No way...! Too many rules for me..."

"But you do work for the government now..." I sighed "Did you know I was there, in that one hostel of Yokohama where a young woman died?"

"I did not." My former superior confessed "I had no idea you would be there... Or I would have come earlier."

"Is that so..." I felt moved by his words "I'm glad..."

"Ogawa... I need you to tell me something..." He asked me.

"What is it...? Is it related to the murder or anything...?"

"Not at all. I heard you found out. No, I need you to tell me... How is the sunset, this evening?"

I looked at the sun falling behind the skyscrapers of Yokohama. I frowned.

"Are you trying to hold onto life?"

"That's not what you think —"

"I don't think it's a bad thing." I cut him "But I... Am no longer able to describe the beauty of the sunset I once could see from the Mafia headquarters... All I see from there is a ball of white light disappearing in a greyish sky. And such a sight isn't beautiful, is it? It isn't what you want me to show you..."

"It is, indeed, not what I wanted you to tell me..." Dazai looked away "I did not think you would come to lose your colours..."

"You had predicted it." I reminded him.

"I did not want it to happen." He said, more curtly "I did not want you, out of everyone, not to be able to see the colours you liked anymore..."

"Without you by my side, they became completely useless... I had no one to paint the sky for anymore..."

"Why don't you just allow me to take you with me again...? You are stubborn Ogawa, but I don't want this stubbornness to kill you." He told me.

"I choose to die." I retorted "Just like you endlessly try to commit suicide, I let myself die."

"I don't want you to die."

"... You're pretty selfish."

"I'll take responsibility for it."

"The thing is..." I sighed "I do not want to live in fear to lose you again if I choose to come back to your side."

"That's logical that you want to avoid suffering... It's a human reaction." He commented.

"Isn't it...? But those are matters I have long discarded now..."

"What keeps you from coming with me, then?" He insisted.

"I..." I lowered my head "I can't say..."

I could not admit I felt too shameful as a person to ever be able to stand by his side again. I had left the Port Mafia to be with him, yet I was too weak. Even if he granted me sleep, even if he said he cared about me, I was aware it was not meant to last forever. If Dazai was determined to strive and hold onto life, there would come a day when he would meet someone who would support him and whom he would open his heart to. When this day would come, he would not want to give me sleep every night anymore, and I would end up discarded another time, and I would die. I would rather leave the world at this very moment than hoping again that I could live a few more years with him. I would have less regrets...

"Ah, so..." He murmured, throwing his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with his heel "I still wish you would be with me, though... I... Feel so empty... Without you around... I feel so lonely as well... Odasaku is gone, so is Ango... You were the only one remaining, yet I was not able to keep you with me... I am aware everything is my fault, yet I still hope I could have you back, somehow..."

"And I am aware that I made a promise..." I glanced at him "But you were the one who broke it... How would you expect me to be with you if you did not allow me near you...? I could not understand, and so, I stopped waiting..."

"I know..." His fingers barely brushed against mine "I am a stupid coward... That, you surely know..."

"You cannot always hide behind cowardice... You must face the consequences of your actions if you made the wrong decision... Dazai, I have to admit that, right now, I don't really want to die..." I confessed "Rather, I want to open my eyes again onto a colourful world, and you are the only one who can return those colours to me... Just tonight... Will you cancel my ability...?"

"You need not ask, Ogawa... I will definitely cancel your ability, tonight, tomorrow and the following day too, if you demand so. I won't let you die..." He assured me.

"I know you won't..." I smiled "You won't, as long as I am there. If I were to leave this cheap hostel, would you try to find me...? That, I cannot be sure... You have not made a single move toward me since last time, what am I supposed to think?"

"I thought you would make the move... I didn't know you would leave the Port Mafia..."

"Are you sure...? You did not know...?" I raised an eyebrow.

"... Perhaps I did suppose you would..."

"That's my point." I shrugged, standing up "But, to be honest, I really, really wish I could come back to your side... But I..."

I stopped, and shook my head.

"Let's go back inside... We may talk again tomorrow, if you do come back..." I told him.

"Tomorrow." He walked toward the door "We'll come back. The murder case isn't over yet."

"The culprits have yet to be caught, after all." I agreed "But I do hope you'll find them soon."

"Heh~ Do you desperately want me to leave you alone~?"

"Not at all... But I was tied up because of them, they must pay for involving me." I stated simply.

"I suppose I owe you this, at least." He chucked "I like seeing this side of you better."

"To be fairly honest, I'm glad to talk to you again." I looked at him with a smile "And in all objectivity, you already know I will choose to come back after a moment. Why are you even worried?"

"Because I genuinely want you to come back... And I am also sincerely afraid that you die before reaching my side again. I fear that I will lose you forever, too..."

I admired him for being able to admit his feelings to me. In a way, it meant he cared about me enough to show his true face, he who had always hidden behind a mask of joviality. I hoped he would drop his mask more often around me, and tell me about his issues, but I was aware I could not ask so much so soon. With time, perhaps... Perhaps we would come to become real friends.

[crimson-snowfall]

Ikemen Vampire: Language of Flowers - Comte de Saint-Germain

Flower: Coreopsis Arkansa

Meaning/Symbolism: Love at first sight

Word Count: 913

Many mortals have withered away spending their lives trying to achieve eternal life, and for a great deal of his life, Comte couldn’t understand why. The concept of eternity has been far too romanticized by mortals, Comte thought, because as someone who’s actually immortal… there wasn’t really much about it. After a while, everything just becomes so painfully tedious and life in general just loses its glamour.

That had always been the case, and things would’ve probably have remained that way if not for that fated meeting in Louvre.

Comte felt your familiar warmth engulf him from behind as you embraced him. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips as he relished the feeling of being held, burning the sensation into his memory.

“You seem to be in a particularly good mood today, ma chérie.” Comte finally turned you around, eager to see the smile that brings out his own, when the flower crown on your head caught his attention. It was inclined a little to the side so he reached to even it out, when you remembered why it was there to begin with.

You intercepted his hand and removed the flower crown, reaching up to place it on top of his head instead. The yellow flowers suited him well, and the smile on your face as you admired your handiwork drowned out any thoughts of objection or protest from your lover. If it makes you happy, he’ll keep it on as long you wanted him to, even if it earns him a couple of looks from the other residents.

“It looks good on you.”

Comte pulled you into his arms. “You look better on me, though.”

You giggled at his remark. “Now do I, really?”

“Yeah.” Comte pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, before spinning both of you around so that you’re now facing the balcony and he’s holding you from behind. Looking up on the night sky, he added, “You’re like the countless stars that adorn the heavens, and without you my life would be cold and bleak, just like the universe without its stars.”

You looked up at him and adored the genuine happiness etched on his face, no more hints of the gentle sadness that was ever-present in his eyes back then when you were still human.

“Wasn’t I the moon just a few months ago?” You smiled at the memory of Comte declaring his love for you on this exact place, under the same night sky that never seems to change.

“I stand corrected, ma chérie. The moon simply reflects the light off the sun and does not produce light of its own, and between the two of us? You’re the sun and I’m the moon. I’m nothing but just another object enshrouded by the darkness of the universe without your light.”

You rested your head against his chest and if a vampire’s heartbeat is indicative of their feelings, then you can tell that he’s expressing his honest feelings, and it made you happy that you’re cherished this much by the one you love; the one you willingly abandoned your humanity for.

“I think it goes the other way round, Comte. I may have achieved a taste of eternity by becoming a lesser vampire, but I can only maintain this state of immortality with the continued sustenance of your blood. Without you… I’m just another lesser vampire with an extended lifespan,” you reminded him of what he had told you before.

“That you’ll never be, because I’ll always be yours. All of me.” Comte reassured you with a shower of kisses on your neck, and you bit back the urge to moan as he made you feel ticklish all over.

“Why me, though? You know, I’m rather… average, even for my time.” You couldn’t help but wonder what the time-traveling pureblood could’ve seen in you when he’s probably seen countless women who probably surpass you in other aspects.

A soft sigh escaped his lips. “What do you mean? No average woman can steal a pureblood’s heart the moment he lays eyes on her.”

You turned around and faced him, signs of dissatisfaction on his response evident on your expression. “You flatter me with such words, but whenever I ask you what you saw in me, you never give me any concrete reason why.”

Comte chuckled in mild amusement. “Do people in your time need a reason to be in love, ma chérie?”

“W-well…” His question caught you off guard, and you found yourself at loss for words.

“It’s love at first sight, ma chérie, and by that, I don’t mean that I simply found you to be pleasing to the eye. I just felt it in my heart… love, that is. But if you’re going to ask me what I’ve grown to love about you even more as I got to know you, then I could go on forever and tell you all about it.” With that, Comte leaned down and sealed your lips with his, slick tongue prodding at your lips for entry, grazing against your fangs as soon as you had granted him entry.

His blood is your very own elixir of life, and its promise of an eternity with him is a product of his unconditional love for you. So if the universe began with the Big Bang, then perhaps it’s alright to accept the fact that his love for you blossomed in a similar fashion-- all at once before stretching into infinity.

Ngl I wrote the first part of this during the ungodly hours of the night and i fell asleep, the plot was supposed to revolve more around the flower crown but when i woke up i already forgot about it and things just went off on another direction

More on this series: [[Napoleon]] [[Mozart]] [[Leonardo]] [[Arthur]] [[Vincent]] [[Theodorus]] [[Isaac]] [[Dazai]] [[Jean]] [[William]] [[Sebastian]] [[Vlad]]

[abripikuunah]

Thalassophile

Pairing: Odazai (Oda Sakunosuke x Dazai Osamu) || Word Count: 5201 || Rating: Teen and Up (Imply Suicide, Light Angst, Fluff)

A/N: My first submission for Odazai Week! Day 3 ( Gakuen Au ) !!!!This has illustations so I hope you would like this gift of mine!  Comments and Criticism is very much appreciated and I want to here your thoughts! I hope you have enjoyed this fic <3.

Summary:

The footprints in the sand carries the existence of our adored past, but the waves full of painful memories has swept it all away...

Only the moon and the starless sky was present that time.

It was cold, so cold that the temperature feel like it was squeezing him, from his flesh reaching through his nerves and bones, leaving him breathless, but it felt right.

Water fills his insides as he let himself drown in the salty water. His hazy eyes watched the light of the moonlight reflect on the sea, imitating a barrier between his pathetic life and the afterlife he desired. He's so close to it, as he could feel the corner of his sight blurring. His insides are screaming in the burning sensation as they're about to be filled with ice prickling water.

So cold, very cold.

Just how it should be.

He closes his eyes, and let the flash of white overcome him and his senses.

But before that happens, a certain red stained all of it.

 “Oh…”

.

.

.

THUD!

That’s the last thing he heard before his vision was turned into complete darkness. He didn't know what happened after that. There's nothing to see, nothing to hear, just blankness. Had death finally consumed him whole, and threw him away from his miserable life?

No… that felt too cheap.

He isn’t sure where he is today, but the next thing he knew, he was staring upward at a white ceiling with a fan rotating to circulate fresh air.

‘I’m not dead.’

“Hey.” A voice calls from behind him.

He looks at the corner of his eye to see his company, just to make sure his guess was right. Red eyes that resembled the warm hues of the sunset in some sky; it felt so warm and comforting. Its radiance was soft, as if those eyes could relax Dazai just by looking at him. The two kept staring at each other, as Dazai smiles while turning his head, twisting his body for a bit before greeting back, “Hey-” Only to feel a sharp pain pricked somewhere in his brain  “Ow, ow it hurts…” The brunet mumbled, massaging his temples.

“Careful. What happened almost caused you to get paralyzed.” The other man sighs as he inserts a bookmark in the book and scooted closer to inspect the injured man. Dazai gave out a chuckle and was about to retort to assure the man he's alright, but his breath was caught in the air when he felt a thumb caressing his unbandaged cheek. He bit his lower lip before they hesitantly turned upward into a faint smile. “I'm fine, Odasaku. Of all people, you should be the one who knows that a mere slip wouldn't kill me.”

The red head looks at him with disbelief, “You never know Dazai.“ he says, his voice bold and strict. The younger man frowned at him, much like a toddler whose toy was taken. But can you blame Oda? Dazai might have survived all the punishments of his past mishaps or attempts, but in the end Dazai is still a human, born with flesh and bones just like the rest of them. Not immortal nor a being that could regenerate his wounds quickly. Granted, his body does have an impressive remark on healing himself for such a surprising speed but there would always be the time Dazai won't be so lucky.

“Geez Odasaku, I told you, I’m fine and as you can see, I'm well.” he opened his arms widely for emphasis, but was only given a raise of a brow in reply. “Though my heads hurts a little- but my body can manage.” A grin was etched on his face to assure his companion, and Dazai quickly changed the subject. “Getting gloomy when I just woke up, no? Let talk about something else shall we?” He then points at the hardcover book Oda was holding, “All those books that you've been reading, are they for your upcoming program?” He inspects the title as the red head nods. “My, you seemed excited to become a teacher~”

“Student teacher.” He corrects the brunet who sits up, “It'll just last two months. Starting from the second half of the semester until the last week of your third quarter. After that I'll go back to college and finish my degree.” Oda adds.

“Wahh!” Dazai immediately twisted away to raise his arm to cover his eyelids and make a dramatic fuss, ”Odasaku will leave me alone and rot at campus all by myself. So heartless and cruel of you, leaving your dear friend and lover like this.This pain is much worse than being tortured to sweet, blissful death-”

And he let out another exaggerated cry when a throb pulsed through his head.

The older could only watch the younger complain about his concussion without giving any help - until he decided to hold on Dazai's chin so he could reprimand him with a stern glare, “Maybe if you didn't keep yourself getting injured. We’re both college students attending the same campus now.”

Dazai opened his mouth, ready to protest, but when no words are able to form to escape his mouth, he immediately closes it before puffing his cheeks and shot back, “So mean,  Odasaku-sensei.”

That phrase causes butterflies in Oda’s stomach, but he doesn't want to cater to those thoughts for now. He gently pinches Dazai's cheek, who whines in protest. “Don't call me like that when we're both alone.” Despite the warning, Dazai gripped Oda's hand and smirked mischievously, “What was that, Odasaku- sen~sei~?”

Oda pinches a bit harder and Dazai yelps, “What am I gonna do with you?” the older sighs.

When he stops pinching, they stare into each other’s eyes. Dazai's pupils traced every feature of his partners face looking for slightest bits of changes other than the heavy eyebags that took toll on his skin - probably for staying up to check on him, Dazai deducts. But that mere thought gave a fluttering feeling in Dazai's chest.

At the same time, Oda just gazed at him tenderly, but noticed a little bit of redness in younger man’s cheek. Oda takes the initiative and leans towards Dazai's face to give a chaste peck on his crimson skin as an apology. When he pulls away, Dazai sits up properly and snakes his arms around Oda's neck while the latter placed the book on the nearest coffee table and lets the brunet take the initiative. Dazai then tries to catch his lips and soon after, their lips connect and share a innocent kiss, hopefully to express the words ‘I miss you’ and ‘I'm so worried’ through the contact. Dazai tilts his head to coax himself closer -

That is, until another pulse from his migraine hit him. He quickly pulled away, yelping a little while massaging the sides of his temples to relieve the pressure a little. “Rest for a bit, Dazai.” Oda instructs as he let out a deep exhale, “I'll let the doctor know you're awake.” He stands up, only for a hand to grab his wrist.

“Stay for a bit will you? “ the brunet pouts. “I don't know how long I was unconscious and I don't want to see the doctors immediately after I just woke up from that cold, soundless sleep.” He gently adjusted himself to the side, careful not to trigger anymore pain and extended his arm out, “Come here and snuggle with me, Sensei!”

“Stop that.”

“Never~” Dazai continued to tease.

Then Oda gave another glare down at the floor and was silent, but Dazai shyly looked up at him like a stray kitten.

“Please?”

Oda huffs in amusement as he shook his head. Honestly speaking, Oda doesn't have the will to refuse his lover, even if he didn't have to put up that adorable act. “Fine.” he declares as he walks back towards the brunet who smiles in victory.

“Okay but after ten minutes, I'll call the doctor.”

“An hour!”

“Dazai… Twenty minutes or I won’t make curry for you.” Oda argues.

“Ehhhh?! Fine.” He scoffs childishly.

When he walked towards the brunet, Dazai asks “That look on your face… Did I worry you too much?” he smiled as he watched Oda sit on the bed, the bedframe underneath squeaking in protest. When Oda’s weight sinks in the mattress, he helped Dazai settle in next to him, careful not to bump the syringes and pads connecting Dazai to the heart monitor and IV tube. Lanky arms wrap around Oda’s chest while the redhead gripped Dazai’s hips and pulled his body closer. Dazai sighed with bliss as he let his head rest on Oda’s chest. “See? I'm still warm Odasaku. I'm still breathing, alive. You don't have to worry.”

“Well you did fell on the stairs four steps away from the ground.” His companion says in defense, resting his cheek on Dazai's hair. “That alone is concerning and you can risk yourself bumping your head pretty hard and having an internal hemorrhage. Thankfully you didn’t break your spine either, since-”

“Odasaku,” the brunet stops him, “How many times do I need to tell you that I won't die that easily? Geez, a mere trip down the stairs is an embarrassing death after all. I don't want the neighbors to brand me, Dazai Osamu, the bandaged man that died because he fell of the stairs. I would be the laughing stock of the century if that happens!” He huffs, grimacing at the thought. “I would rather have a sweet romantic suicide with a beautiful lady. That alone is poetic.”

Dazai really likes to slip words in his tounge like water without thinking any consideration, Oda thought with a grimace on his face. Despite Oda getting used to hear his whims about suicide and tantalized about death accepting him from this ‘miserable cruel’ world, Oda can't shake off the thought of seeing Dazai in his deathbed. Even with spending much of his time lecturing the young man, the words coming from the third year’s mouth stings painfully in Oda’s chest.

But despite it all, he still continues to be with him, willingly to check up on him and make sure he's not alone because-

Because he loves Dazai.

“I'm just scared to lose you…” he finally admits under his breath.

“Not like last time...”

None of them uttered out a word after, Oda was only waiting for Dazai's reply, wanting to know how he would react, but knowing Dazai, he won't show anything at all. Dazai's breath was stuck in the air, unable to reply to his confession. He's glad that Oda cannot see his expression at this angle or he would probably jerk away from him if this man had witnessed the redness of his ashamed face. When he felt the grip on his waist tighten, he scooted closer and hid his face in Oda’s chest. “Heh, silly Odasaku…”

They continued to stay like that for minutes, Oda keeps stroking the fringes of his hair, Dazai keep listening to Oda's heartbeats pounding, thump thumping in his ears. They chatted about him being unconscious for two days, then onto the news that's happening in their neighborhood. The middle school graduates, including Nakajima and Tanizaki, were becoming first years and they would soon be Dazai's schoolmates. The other piece of news they discussed is that Kunikida, one of Dazai's ex-classmates, was offered a student teacher position at Dazai’s school by none other than Fukuzawa himself. But the big news they talked about was-

“What?!” Dazai exclaimed.

Oda had to live at his university for a whole semester - and to make matters worse, he was going to be leaving tomorrow. “Just how? The semester doesn’t start for another week or so, right? I thought you're okay with commuting?”

“It was sudden, but Natsume-sensei offered me to stay at his place for the time being since he thinks it'll be more practical and I would lose a lot of opportunities just by traveling everyday for a long period of time.” he kissed Dazai's cheek to lighten up his mood and assure him. “I'll be back next month. Don't worry.”

“Hmph, fine. But you better bring me something when you return back home.”

Home…

Those words make Oda chuckle as adoration bubbled up his chest, “Will do, Dazai.” As his lips pressed against his forehead.

This continued on until Dazai looks out the window and sees the view of the ocean from afar. A thought came into his mind, but Dazai hesitates if he should even mention it. But then again, this would be the last day the two of them would see each other until three whole months passed.

“Odasaku.”

So it doesn't hurt to try.

“You know, I made you worry for no good reason.” He starts, shifting from his position to meet his lover’s gaze. Oda looks at him with a brow raised. He smirks, “As an apology, I'll be doing you the favor of going to the beach with me. I think I’ll get discharged today anyway, since I think I'm a good shape now. It's been a while since we visited there together, what do you think?”

The older blinks at his partner’s invitation and looks at the ceiling to ponder. “Well…”

“Beside, I won't see you in months.” He adds, hoping to finally be able to convince the man besides him.

The redhead took a deep breath. He seems to be contemplating with his thoughts while Dazai waited for a reply, but then he felt Oda pulling away from his grasp. Oda stands up and fixes the collar of his shirt, “I'll go fetch the doctor then. I'll be back quick.” he turns around and gave a small tilt to check on Dazai, who just smiles.

“Hurry up then, while the sun is still up.”

----

Only the moon and the starless sky was present that time.

It was cold, so cold that the temperature feel like it was squeezing him, from his flesh reaching through his nerves and bones, leaving him breathless, but it felt right.

Water fills his insides as he let himself drown in the salty water. His hazy eyes watched the light of the moonlight reflect on the sea, imitating a barrier between his pathetic life and the afterlife he desired. He's so close to it, as he could feel the corner of his sight blurring. His insides are screaming in the burning sensation as they're about to be filled with ice prickling water.

So cold, very cold.

Just how it should be.

He closes his eyes, and let the flash of white overcome him and his senses.

But before that happens, a certain red stained all of it.

---

Scarlet eyes worriedly trailed behind the lean figure as Oda watched the boy excitedly take of his shoes while examining the beach. Fortunately, the doctor said Dazai was free to leave, but has to be cautious, not move his head so much, and not perform any heavy activities for quite awhile. “Be careful.“ he reminded the exuberant Dazai.

But his words seems to be ignored in the playful breeze as Dazai turns around, waving at Oda and shouting “Odasakuuuu!” before running back to him and yanking his arm to invite themselves closer to the sea. “Come on! You can't have me just enjoying the sea by myself! I would look stupid.”

“But the doctors said that you're not allowed to move your head too much-” he was interrupted when a finger was pressed against his lips.

“Oh hush and do me a favor by not reminding me about those cruel instructions by that doctor, and let me enjoy this last day of summer with you for a bit, okay?” Dazai fumed, but when he notice the darkness of Oda’s expression, his face shifted into worry.

Oda… Oda wanted to say no, the anxiety that's pounding inside his chest was demanding for him to decline and be strict. He wished to say he's already being considerate, escorting him to the beach despite these disturbing emotions that crawling up his spine. Yet he doesn't want Dazai to be upset, but in the end, he was afraid of both outcomes. He thought of himself as nothing but a coward.

A coward that let those horrible memories of the two of them being wrapped by the ocean’s deadly embrace be the sole reason behind why he’s scared to visit the place they used to favor so dearly.

Dazai, the genius that he is, seems to read the toll on his mind. So his expression softened, “Hey.” He calls out to Oda, who blinks and then stares toward him in acknowledgement. “I told you, this is my apology for falling down the stairs, so I promise I won't do anything stupid or do things that will make you even more worried, alright?” He smiles, brown eyes softly gazing at his partner.

The older man studies Dazai before he finally tilts his head down in defeat just by seeing those big eyes, as stubborn as they were soft. “Fine.” He saids before adding, “But if I see any small signs that you’re getting worse, we'll go home immediately.”

Dazai's mouth forms a grin of agreement and continues to drag his boyfriend along the shore. Oda watched Dazai - his face beams in delight, so bright and cheerful, but is he feeling happiness in his heart right now? Is he truly happy? He doesn't want to ask, but he wants to believe it. And if it was reality, then Oda wishes for him to hold unto those emotions till the very end.

The shore is where they're free, like the birds that flew away from the depressing earth and bathed in the warm glow of the radiant sun. This feeling of warmth and freedom is what he missed years ago.

Until that tale of a boy whose blood spilled over the shore would never leave his mind, no matter how hard he tried. In the end, those tales would only lead him to break.

But he wants to throw it all over the edge of the horizon and let him forget the uneasiness in his chest. The echoing reverie to see Dazai smiling again caused determination to well up inside him. If he could treasure and let that smile last, where his skin radiates brighter than the sun, those chocolate eyes that twinkled like the liquid gems of the sea, then Oda would do his damndest to suppress the dark memories and his overall agitation that has been mocking him.

A quiet smile etched up in Oda's usual expressionless face as he cherished the moment.

When they're close to the ocean water, the brunet lets go of Oda's arm, scoops a handful of water and throws it towards his companion.

“H-hey!”

Dazai lets out a childish giggle from seeing Oda glare at him.  Rolling his eyes, he starts to take off his shoes and decides to play along with the younger’s antics. “So you want to play it that way, huh?” He lets his voice sound murky and dark, like an overly dramatic villain.

“Uh oh. Sensei’s getting mad.” Dazai teased as he moved away urgently from Oda’s impending wrath. When Oda finally placed his shoes and socks on the beach, along with Dazai’s necessities, away from the ocean’s reach, he followed his partner with a smirk on his face. “Are you testing me?”

“And what if I am?” Dazai grinned, “Bring me your best shot Odasaku!”

Then Oda rushed towards Dazai, pulling him close in a tight embrace as their laughs echoed across the neverending sea.

------

His throat hurt, desperate as he gasped for air…

It feels so hard to breathe, his lungs are burning, it all felt dry.

He hears someone screaming, shouting, calling, its voice clawing deep in the night, but he doesn't realize who and why.

But when scarlet red was stained in his palm that has slowly been seeping away towards the water, a sign of a promising fate that would end in tragedy, he knew why.

It was his own bruised throat and no one else but himself who has been screaming underneath the dark night.

And the whole village were able hear the mournful screams of Oda Sakunosuke as he desperately tried to save Dazai Osamu, the boy whose blood was spilled in the never ending sea.

------

Eventually, darkness came and the moon has replaced the sun, soft light reflecting off the sparkling water of the ocean. The breeze was chilly as it softly caressed their skin that was still damp with the ocean water. Their fingers are laced while their bare feet sink into the sand as they walked around the shore.

They quietly talked about small things, between hushed voices and whispers, their fingers playing with each other as their conversation leads them nowhere in particular. They let themselves be steered away from the cruel reminder of time’s existence, away from reality, just away from everything to forget the burden in their outside worlds. They revelled in the normalcy as young adults who just wanted to be together, and enjoy each other’s presence.

But now that it's dark, it feels like they're slowly breaking away from their own illusions.

So they talked and talked as if tomorrow would never come.

Until they finally have nothing to say to each other anymore, and only the rushing water singing a soft melody to accompany the evening air could be heard. Their arms are close as if they could feel each other's pulse, both are alive and well. Dazai watches the waves reaching towards them, occasionally kicking the salty liquid half-heartedly for amusement, while Oda's eyes travels at him. Both men are buried their own thoughts.

If Oda wants to guess what's going inside Dazai's mind, it would probably be about his fascination about suicide.

Drowning is the method he always favored, Oda know this, it pains him to say it but he has witnessed it many times before. Dazai told him that whenever he sees the beach, it feels like an open gate for him to escape his way to escape reality. The place where he looks upon to to let his thoughts be free within the wind and a place where he can enjoy himself.

A place where he would marry death.

Oda blinks for a moment as they halt their movements, none of them utter a single word but Oda stared at Dazai expectantly. The brunet eyes however, despite uninterested, traveled towards the cliff making Oda followed his direction of sight.

Oda would admit that there was something that always worried him about Dazai. Dazai’s mind was so sharp and intelligent, far more than was good for his sake, and it reminded him of a cliff towering over the sea, enticing humans to explore it but like a promising death and despair should they make one false move, even if it was to turn back and flee. Breaking the wild silence, Dazai finally mutters, "It's been eight years since we both visited here, no?" Oda was only able to hum in reply. "Eight years..." He repeats, as if he trying to properly taste of those words in his mouth. Before the older has the chance to interrupt, the other continues to speak, "Since then, everyone treated me differently. People started to be distant. They're always worried, they think that I could blame them. Though I'm not sorry, either. After all, even I wanted to be distant away from myself." 'Away from this world...' It was unspoken but nevertheless, Oda can hear it out loud in the heavy air. "Dazai-"

He interjects with a small voice, "But you..." He pauses, biting his lip until he was able to form the proper words , "You treated me the same. You always gave me normalcy, no matter what." “Despite this disturbing tendencies of mine, you still accept me as who I am.” But then, Dazai turned his head and faced him as he gave an unpleasant stare, almost starring past Oda. "If I wanted to be honest Odasaku, I want to read all the pages of your book to understand." Oda felt his fingers were gripped tightly as if they would slip in mere seconds away in his grasp the moment it loosens.

“What don't you understand?” He asked, rubbing his calloused thumb at Dazai's to provide comfort, gesturing him to tell his thoughts out and not to be afraid to speak the truth.

“I…” His voice trails off. Eyes watching their laced fingers for an encouragement.

“You still kept seeing it right? That moment where I almost died.” he breathed out.

Oda will always remember, he will never forget how terrified he is to see Dazai in the bed, heart weakly beating, skin colder and whiter than the snow of winter. How everyday it pains him to see that time, when his life was held by a single thread, ready to snap both Dazai's life and Oda's sanity.

Dazai's eyes looked deeply into his, searching for a sign if he should stop or not. Oda doesn't speak but he nod to beckon the younger to continue.

“Since then, you hated going here because you always remembered, and despite knowing that, I was still selfish and asked you to go with the beach with me. And you made an effort to grant this wish of mine and went along.” He breathed out as he finally asks.

“How do you do it?”

He was gazing so deep into Oda's eyes, that he flinched for a bit when he felt a warm hand stroke his cheek and brush the hair on his face. He really doesn't understand why; it was so foreign, so new no matter how many time he did that. Regardless, it was still comforting and serene.

Oda glances down before he looks back at him again and gave out a small smile. “We are all humans. All born with our own flaws and our selfishness. I don't want to sound like a hypocrite, but whatever selfishness and flaws you have, it still adds the fact that it made you the Dazai Osamu I fell in love with.” He admits.

Dazai pretended not to be flustered but the redness of his cheeks betrayed him until Oda casually added, “For me, one of my selfish desires is to see you smile and grant the promise I made.”

His eyes widen, mouth hanging, If the brunet's face was dusted with red before, then his face right now is almost at a tint of a tomato.

“Seeing you happy today is enough for me.” Oda continues, leaving Dazai breathless. It wasn’t the first not going to be the last, but...

Never once can a person leave the garrulous Dazai hanging wordless. He cannot think of any befitting words to shoot back at his lover. But he still felt obligated to continue the conversation. In the end, after what felt like an eternity, he was only able to say

“Thank you.”

The voice was low and faint but the wind managed to carry it to Oda’s ears.

“I had fun today.” Dazai murmured, after having the courage met those scarlet eyes once more with his, a sincere smile etched in his face as the dimples pops out of his cheek to signify how genuine his expression is. “And I'm glad you have as well.”

Oda can can feel the tip of his ears burning and was only able to pat Dazai in the head. “I'm glad. After all, anything we do together is fun.”

Dazai huffed out a breath and forged a knowing smirk, “Not as fun as yourself.” He reciprocated.

Oda was only able to raise a brow out of confusion, not knowing what he meant as the other could only laugh in delight. Dazai pinched Oda's nose while the latter grunted in protest.

After rubbing his nose, Oda noticed the full moon staring up at the sky. Dazai followed his gaze and mumbled, “Time really flies fast, huh. It feels like yesterday we were just kids playing here with Ango, and I just woke up a minute ago from being unconscious. But the reality is, many years have already passed since then.”

Oda can only hums in concordance. “It's getting late.” He finally reminds Dazai and himself about the unfortunate reality of the world they live in. “It's time to go home.” He sighs as he watched Dazai groaning in disapproval.

“I don't wannaaa.” He whined, eyes begging for consideration from Oda. He clings on the Oda’s arm and continues protesting. “Besides, where Oda is is my home.” He declares but after a few seconds of a starting match with his boyfriend, he finally, reluctantly, agrees.

“Come on. Let's go at your place and get you showered.” Oda then walks, escorting Dazai towards the exit where the main street is. The prodigy walks in tow, a mischievous smile on his face.  “Aww, then why not we shower together so you can warm me up?” His voice tingles with a certain promise.

Oda, however, chuckles at the sly suggestion, “That is nice, but I have something else in mind”

“Oh?” Dazai eyes glistened with curiosity. He leans toward Oda's shoulder and pressed his cheek against it affectionately, “This better be interesting since you're able to turn down such an offer. Tell me about it then.”

“Well.“ he paused, and looked around the beach so he could let the revelation of the surprise be dragged on longer. The brunet still saw through his own antics and kept nudging him to go on. Finally, Oda said, “While you're taking a shower, I would prepare a dish I just learned how to make a while ago.”

Dazai tilts his head for emphasis, “Oda will cook something for me! Does it have crab?”

“Crabmeat and Zucchini with Kofuki and homemade mochi.” He announced.

Excitement flashes on Dazai's face as he then took the lead, dragging Oda hurriedly behind him like a child, “Let's hurry then, I’m hungry - and snuggling can come after!”

Those words sowed warmth in Oda's chest.

To see Dazai's heart right now set in the right place, his mind not hidden away in the shadows where his demons kept whispering to him. To be able to witness his genuine smile and hold his now warm hand. It's enough to Oda. Even though he rarely, if ever, displays this sincerity to anyone else, if he kept holding his hand and let him know his presence will always remain there, to encourage him and support him, then maybe he would finally fully open up to them.

They might be back to reality now, where the complicated system of life and all its problems would never change. But there would be a time where they have nowhere else to go but wander aimlessly. Regardless of what life brought them, they will face it nonetheless and survive through the cruel seasons. They will hold each other close and take each other's hand and never let go.

After all, that's their oath towards each other.

--

‘Even if you will drown in your own abyss that will consume you alive… take my hand’

In a small little ward, a young boy vowed a pledge to a dear friend of his, who looks at him with hollow eyes.

‘But what if I don't take it? What if it's all too late?’ He asked, studying his redhead companion carefully. The redhead suddenly grabs his hands, and without hesitation he declared-

‘Then I'll catch you in my arms and won't let you go.’

…

It was a memory that they would forever hold.

For once, light was evident to the young patient’s eyes. For once, he didn't feel alone. For once, he had seen the faint ray of the light . For once, the boy who accepted that he would never be loved believed a promise.

A promise to hold him .

And Oda will stay true to his words, and he will never let go.

Not now...

Not ever.

.

.

.

Sadly though, their paths followed the unpredictable ebb and flow of the stormy waves of life.  

And the only certain things within life is the bittersweet endings and broken promises.

-THE END-

[leonawriter]

The Rest That’s Still Unwritten - pt. 2 (Of Hats and Bandages)

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Characters: Dazai, Chuuya

Summary: Dazai wakes up from flying through half a forest, and Chuuya sees something he shouldn't have. Things go from there. 

Notes: Follow-up to part one featuring Book!Dazai, and that should really be read first. Warnings apply for Dazai-typical suicide references. Can be taken as pre-relationship or gen. 

...

Dazai is still preoccupied with the sensation of air burning back into his lungs, too preoccupied at first to notice the way that being thrown back like that through the trees that he could still remember catching at his arms and legs had affected him.

He groans, a hand reaching (painfully, and oh but he hates this, because he hadn't planned on being thrown through the forest like that again any time soon) for his forehead, thankful that there isn't any sign of bleeding coming from his head, or having come from there at all.

(His neck hurts, he thinks, and ah, so that's what did it. It's a statement of fact, and a little bit disappointed at that, that it didn't work, but then again he supposes there are still things to do, the story isn't over yet.)

He hears a sharp inhale of breath, and he tenses, because maybe Chuuya already knows about the fact that he can't stay dead, but that doesn't mean he enjoys someone being that close to the truth of who (what) he is.

He's ready to put the masks back on, wave in Chuuya's face and make a nuisance of himself, when-

"Dazai," he hears Chuuya say, in the exact same low tone that's threatening not to stay level as he'd heard the first time Chuuya had seen him die and come back to life, "what the fuck?"

And that's familiar, too.

Dazai's hand drops from his face, and it's then that he realise that he can feel air touching directly onto his skin, instead of having the constant barrier of bandages wrapped around his arm, the tug of one frayed end just coming loose from where it was held making it obvious that one of the tree branches must have caught the wrappings and pulled it loose, perhaps even causing his (temporary) death.

He looks up at Chuuya, from the ground, because apparently Chuuya had been the one to get him down, had been about to cut that last bit of bandage free, when he'd seen-

Chuuya had seen-

The world slows down and in an instant, possibilities lay themselves before him, all sorts of potentials for how this might play out, and perhaps once he might not have been afraid, but Dazai is just as much a part of the story now as anyone else, carried along on the pull of its ebbs and flows, and whatever Chuuya chooses-

Whatever he chooses to do, to say, who to go to, Dazai can't stop, can't change, can't-

"That's not- those aren't just scars, that's ink."

-control

"I'd say 'that's some fucked up tattoos you've got there', but they're moving, and... the hell."

anything-

"Dazai?" Chuuya had used that tone before. Each time he had, someone had wound up half dead. "Dazai... why can I see what I'm saying on your arm?"

-at all.

He can't take back what Chuuya's seen. He can only grab at the frayed end of the cut bandage, and hastily wind it back around his arm. He doesn't say a word. Not until he's satisfied that he's properly covered up once more.

And then, expression as blank as one of Kunikida-kun's unused sheets of notebook paper, he turns to meet Chuuya's eyes.

"Why do you think you saw what you saw, Chuuya?'

The smaller man, his ex-partner, huffed and looked away. They'd been on the same side, once, and now they weren't, but at the same time... could he really be said to be on anyone's side, given that he was what he was?

"Hell if I know. Why else would I be asking you, dimwit? The only thing I can think of is that damn Book shit, and there's no way-" Chuuya's eyes narrow, and he looks back. "That thing's stronger than any human ability. Did it do something to you?"

"No," Dazai says, because it's the truth.

The possibilities are narrowing down, which makes focusing on the one that he's living through that much simpler, and less headache-inducing.

Chuuya is still mafia, one of the last ones suggests, loyal to Mori, not you, and even if one doesn't know the full truth about the Book the truth about Dazai's link to it would be enough to override Mori's willingness to simply let him be. It would only take a single misplaced word....

The possibility fades into crumpled up draft paper, and the simple fact that it does causes Dazai to take a sharp breath, and when Chuuya looks at him, a dozen more possibilities are discarded, thrown away.

"You aren't going to tell Mori you saw that," he says, and although it comes out flatly, part of that is because he can barely breathe for not knowing what to do with this information.

"Only because I don't even know what the hell that was," Chuuya says, and sits down hard on the ground in front of him. "Fuck, Dazai. Anything else you wanna... I dunno. Maybe it'd explain a lot if you were somehow the human version of that book. You've both got messed up abilities and you always get everyone around you into trouble."

Dazai closes his eyes. The buzzing in his head from the branching off directions that things could go in quieting down by the second.

"You're supposed to laugh, you know." Instead, a sigh is what escapes him. "Dazai."

"Maybe I'm still concussed from being thrown through a forest."

"You're not concussed."

"But I could be."

"I've seen you concussed, idiot."

He finds himself smiling, remembering having been knocked unconscious and kept awake by an increasingly annoyed Chuuya by order of Mori. He himself hadn't been all that happy about it - the idea was, after all, that if one fell asleep while concussed, then they might never wake up.

The silence stretches, for a while, and although it's now silent in Dazai's head, it's no less comforting. 

Eventually, Chuuya breaks the impasse by snorting, and then, a bitter sort of laugh.

"If you were some human Book... you mind telling me the fuck you thought you were up to a few months ago? Those Detective Agency friends of yours were being hunted down, you got yourself arrested, and I fucking lost people, you bastard-"

Dazai's eyes darkened, and he took ahold of the loose piece of bandage with his other hand. There's still an uncomfortable sensation of looseness there, which he can't do anything about until he can get around to fixing up his entire arm again. It truly is a pain.

"I couldn't control that," he says, absently. Or perhaps, not so much absently, as that he felt that he himself was absent, only hearing himself speak as if from a distance. Chuuya is still staring at him, eyes full of fire. Trying to pull him back down to earth. There's something else in them, too, which he can't put a name to yet, which flashes from the moment he admits that Chuuya's at one point joking suggestion was right. "We're two halves of one whole, after all. The Book, which is written in, that can change the story..."

"...and you," Chuuya finishes, flatly. Which sounds wrong wrong wrong, because Chuuya is never flat. He is short and he is angry and he always has had the best reactions, and none of the ones that Dazai likes (which are most of them) are flat.

He nods, however, with a smile.

"And me," he says, confirming the truth. "I'm what happened when the story in the pages of the Book came alive. Did you know, an author can create a set of characters, traits, ideas... and yet, it is much like expecting a pack of stray dogs to always do as they're asked, if they want to keep a certain storyline on track. Much like anyone, they do as they please." Much like people who aren't fictional, lies unsaid. Unspoken. But if if he looked under the bandages, he isn't completely sure that it lies unwritten. From the disquiet on Chuuya's face, he thinks that despite his partner's comparative shortcomings in the mental intelligence department, he can guess. Probably because he knew Dazai. Dazai, who with dark eyes and numb curiosity, tilts his head. "Do you hate me, Chuuya?"

Chuuya laughs, not looking in Dazai's eyes anymore.

"I've always hated you, dimwit." Ah, of course. And, no one liked to know that their story had been set in stone. That there was someone to blame for everything going wrong. In this case, Dazai himself was the closest any in this world had to that person. "I hate you for a hell of a lot of reasons. But..." Chuuya sounded - tired. Dazai closed his eyes, feeling the decision coming on. "Hating you for this would make me feel like a fucking hypocrite, open-book-dumbass."

His eyes fly open again, and now he's staring, looking at Chuuya like he's never seen him before, because he'd expected to be blamed for all of Chuuya's problems, for knowing or being able to know, and maybe that will still come later, but right now all he's able to do is laugh.

He'd spent all this time comparing the two of them in his mind, and at the very point that it became relevant, it was Chuuya who had the thought come to mind first.

"You're really weird, you know that," Chuuya's saying, but now that he's looking Dazai can see his mouth twitch, meaning that Chuuya's trying not to laugh too-

And then the dam breaks, and it's the two of them, two people who aren't even really people at all, just trying to be as human as possible with what they had, and finally, finally, seeing each other and recognising that.

It's a while before Dazai feels like moving again, and when he does he nearly falls flat on his face. Nearly, because he falls onto Chuuya instead. 

"Chuuya... I think I twisted my ankle..." He makes a face. "I twisted my ankle and I need new bandages," he continues with a whine. "The trees stole some, and you helped them, so you owe me now."

"I should deck you and drag you back unconscious just for that," Chuuya says as he drags him upright again, cursing the way Dazai's ability (and although it was, it was also his nature, whether he liked the implications of that or not) made it impossible for Chuuya's own ability to make this any easier. "How'd you even get this far without someone seeing that, anyway?"

"I usually have enough warning to be able to hide it."

"Huh."

"But, it isn't comfortable, so I prefer not to have to."

It's hard not to stare at the site of the destruction that must have occurred after he'd been thrown through the forest (and died, temporarily), and Chuuya had gone to town. It's magnificent, truly, the way that there were small craters and broken trees simply from Chuuya using his ability without any need for Corruption.

The one they'd been fighting was taken care of, of course. Chuuya wouldn't have spent so long out of the battle, even with what had happened.

"...Oi, Dazai." He makes a sound to show that he'd heard, that he was listening, even though he wasn't about to stop watching where his feet were going. "This means you don't get to call me 'hatrack' from now on, got it?"

He blinks, and laughs. He still hurts all over, but it's worth it.

"Ha... only if you stop calling me the 'extra-stuff-that-comes-with-the-bandages'."

"Ugh." A beat. They both knew how likely either of those things were. As in, not at all. "You've got shitty coping mechanisms." Which, to be fair, Chuuya has known for quite some time now. "And no, that's not an invitation to start taking my hats, damn it!"

...Shame, Dazai thinks to himself, Chuuya's hats would probably look good on me.

[ol-razzle-dazazzle]

Bells not meant for me Pairing- Daran, with mentioned Odazai and Ranpoe. I like crying :^) also I recommend reading poe's bells, both to like this more and because it's a hecking poem. 

Silver bells. 

The glint and sharp burn of freedom. The first gasp of fresh air, of free air. It was winter, my alliances cast out to fester and freeze in the cold. It would melt away with the spring air, the new year- truly turning over a new leaf. I was free of a love and hatred that the mafia had prepared for me. 

I remember that morning when I walked into the agency. The cutting crispness of the sea breeze jingling softly along the branches, rustling piles of leaves. I remember hearing the waves crash against the sands of time, as I stepped into a light, a shiny new era.

A silver of hope. 

 The first sound I heard, apart from the spidery creak of the door, was bells. A jingly laugh like a raven- no, a crow. I forgot what laughter had sounded like when it didn't come from a madman, or at least a violent one. 

I fell in love with you in that moment. No, that wouldn't be accurate. If love is a locked room, that was the sound of the clinking bells when you walk inside, warming yourself near the fire as the clink muses with your mind. The wind chimes of smiles and stifled laughter that drew me further like a dove returning to comfort, to home. 

To next to your desk. I remember the first words you said to me, "You look like the sort of person who should be on the other side." 

I heard about your ability, of course. "Are you saying I should be dead?" My tone was almost offended, surprisingly clanging against me. I would later realise this due to one thing, that you are someone who I could not die for, but live for. An honour that has only been bestirred to you and you alone, though you are unaware. 

"Of course, my fellow mafio- co-worker." If I had time at my hands once more I would correct you, say that we were fellow... at least somewhat in love. It still perplexed me how you always sat through interrogation on the million yen reward of my occupation, your smirk worth a million more to me. Those eyes observing me, scanning me, I wanted those eyes on me. 

 And they were. I am glad I was so close to you, that at nights I could hear your soft voice murmuring and grumbling about late work that we never did. 

I remember your wedding. 

Golden bells. 

Beautiful, grand, but worst of all, unobtainable. 

It was not my wedding. 

You did not release bleeding heart doves from boxes, but held a raven in your arms and cooed softly words of promise. I stood perched next to you, an envious honour as a 'best man' (despite the best man being clearly to your right.) I had never in my entire life hated being left of someone, as you took Poe's and my own breath away. 

I remember the first words Poe said to me. I would like you to recall, that despite all I feel in my heart towards you, and my own sadistic and self-destruction, my upbringing, that I never once detested the man. In fact, he left quiet the impression on me, after all, you chose to love him. 

"You are the kind of madman that I write in my own stories." He stated, devoid of the polarising stammers or booming voice of grandeur. As if it was a fact. I saw his gaze flicked to me, as if my envy was transparent and he could write an anthology just from my standing there like a model. 

Poe, for all his theatrics, was an honest man, a good man. 

Like many of those who possessed such qualities, I recall painfully: 

A dead man. 

Iron bells. 

It seems preposterous, but I wanted it to somehow by my own fault. That my own vices compelled me to create a Monti-Christo-like revenge, like some demon or monster, like some human. 

He was a good man, and you two were good together. The way he perched on your arm, the way your smiles widened just that bit more, the jovial mood after he pecked a small kiss on your cheek. I couldn't do that to you. 

And when I came to your house to drink and talk and comfort you through the years, like a dove returning to its home, I found I could never stay the night. Not when on the corner of my eye I could see the photo of you two together (and Karl, of course.) not when we were pouring drinks, and I could see beady black eyes peering at me, waiting my next move, if I would move. 

I never did, even when Karl wrapped around my leg. 

I kept my solitary agonies locked in my breast. 

There was but one time, a moment of weakness. The echo of bells in a church. It was your silvery little laugh, your arms around me, cradling your dove, a dove that never belonged to you, though you to it. 

Golden bells, when that ache in my heart grew as you took your lips in mine, a feeling of immeasurable joy and immeasurable sorrow. 

Bronze bells buzzing as your hand crept along mine, and my rose-tinted lens of love obscured the photos and the raccoon who's warm fur leapt away from me.

I could see your eyes, piercing malachite rusting my own, creeping this feeling into my soul. I wanted this, you wanted this. 

Iron bells. 

But you didn't need this. You pulled my coat off, and I gently push, bells, bells ringing in my mind. Your tantalising eyes flickered, "Poe I-" and it was the first time I saw you cry with your eyes open. You always insisted the room be dark during those nights of comfort, while I deluded myself with the thought that the clutches against my skin were loving me. They were, but they weren't. 

My words were dry, hushed against the ringing cacophony in my head. "I...I had a friend." 

"Oda Sakunosuke, I know. /Please/, just stay with me. I'm sorry." 

He was the person I could die for. But by the time I realised, it was too late. I remember it clearly. One single bell from my own hand, ringing a lonely grave.

By the time I put it all aside, my unhappiness and unhappiness, my thoughts of whether I was deserving of love, it was too late then too. You were already living, living with him. 

That night was the first night I stayed with you. It was not what we wanted, but what we needed. "Dazai." And my name on your lips was enough, "...thank you, and good night." It was enough. 

The bells quelled enough for me to drift into sleep. I couldn't stop thinking of how blessed Poe was to wake up every morning of his life in your arms, despite the fact that we're both taller than you. 

I know I could've rang those bells. I know you loved him, but also me. But I felt neither the time nor courage to write this all out, for I could only propose such a thing when you know, when I know, every little feeling that I have felt. 

Time has slowed, the skies grey a bit with my vision, sometimes I could see bubbles floating as years popped by. You still held that tender, timeless smile. I still clung onto those silver bells. 

Ranpo, I know not when those iron bells will ring true for me. So I choose to press this letter into your breast now, decades later. My bones have grown weak, but my heart still coos softly to that melody of bells. 

This is not a proposal, or composition, but a transcript. A transcript of what I felt to you, what you meant to me. A transcript of that lovely symphony of bells.

[adaandportmafiaimagines]

ERROR [1/4]

[Dazai Osamu X Hacker!Reader]

[Slight!Chuuya X Hacker!Reader]

Inspired by the Vocaloid song [ERROR], originally sung by Lily but Ritsu Namine made it popular. The translation is found here.

(Read: LONG chapter(s) [first chapter alone is 7 pages] ahead under ‘read more’ and endgame is Dazai because I can’t get enough of him)

Description

“Chuuya, Dazai… I’ve got a pleasant surprise for you…” The flaming red haired directed the two children to a room, filled with flashing lights and blank screens, “meet the upcoming mastermind of Port Mafia’s technology system… at a young age, she already understood and hacked into thousands of Japan’s advanced systems…” The two children squinted their eyes, bust able to see an outline of a small figure, motionless, as the third child sat on the chair, “children… meet [Surname] [Name].”

Can you see it? The tears in my eye  I'm blurred by the colours of life  What did you leave me?  Ask me - I'll collapse

 “Mommy…” The five year old child quietly directed her question at the older image of herself

“Yes darling…?” The said mother of the child softly looked at her daughter with sorrowful orbs

“Why… are they burying daddy?”

This simple question, this innocent and naive question made the old woman’s eyes water. Transparent droplets of liquid escaped their homes and slid softly down rosy cheeks.

“M-mommy! Why are you crying? A-are they doing something bad to daddy?” The little child panicked, “daddy still has work to do tomorrow… what if he’s late because he can’t get out? Daddy promised me to buy me that bunny plushie for my birthday! B-but he can’t do that because-because-”

The mother engulfed her daughter in a hug. Her salty eyes escaping some more from her closed eyes. How could she tell her innocent child that her father was killed? How could she tell her that he could never wake up? She knew that their jobs in the mafia would be risky, but never had she thought that one of them could loose a life…

How fragile human lives are…

What a merciless world this is…

Around 8 years later…

 The flaming red haired woman led the two boys zigzagging through the Port Mafia’s headquarters. Her strong strides never loosing rhythm as she explained that to both celebrate the future of Port Mafia two executives (they both were developing fantastically), and they need more children around their age to bond with, she decided to introduce them to yet another future mastermind.

The three walked into a room without any source of light bulbs, if it was not for the flashing tiny dots on both monitors and system/base units, along with screens, the place would be thrown in total darkness.

Endless amount of wires, thick and thin, snaked around the floor, overlapping with one another, though non were tangled, these wires were plugged into dozens of base units, almost as tall as Kouyou herself. Among the mess, in the middle of the room, the faint outline of a raised platform could be seen. Perhaps a desk?

“Ane-san,” Chuuya started, “who is that?”

He directed them to a leather chair, one fit for rotation, and if they squinted their eyes enough, an outline of a child could be seen.

“Might be a dummy Chuuya.” Dazai started, “or maybe a corpse.”

“Dazai,” Kouyou gently scolded, her equally red eyes narrowing, though her expression showed nothing but amusement, “you’re not really leaving a good first impression by saying that.”

“Sorry, sorry ane-san.” He sheepishly rubbed his head, though as if he just made a stupid blunder instead of deliberately mistaking someone for a corpse

“Now then… [Name]-chan, would you please introduce yourself to the future Port Mafia executives?”

The dark leather chair rotated sideways, so the child could face all three. From what little light was in the room at the time, Dazai could see that she wore a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her dark coloured skirt was wrinkled, though it flowed just above her knees along with an equally dark knee-high socks, her formal shoes were blended in the darkness so well that it might as well be nonexistent, her tie, unlike both Dazai and Chuuya, was so loosely tied that the knot ended up at her chest, as if she just slapped it on in the last second.

All in all, she looked nothing like Port mafia’s mastermind hacker Dazai had in mind.

Nor could he predict how painfully important the said girl could be in his future.

 Ahh… that was… the start huh…?

 Blue, red, and white are mixing  I'm shouting from this world 

What was I wishing for?  I was tired from chasing after it

 Years flown by like minutes after [Name] made friends with both Dazai and Chuuya. Perhaps, it was precisely because of how everyday was both so tiring and energetic that the days turned into months…

The two males never did get along as one might describe as ‘partners’, no, not the romantic one, but the one where they work together and go on dirty jobs. Even when Dazai was promoted and became the youngest Port Mafia executive, even when the much feared Soukoku was formed, while their teamwork spread despair among the Mafia employees, deeply rooted into their souls, on the other hand, their personalities could not conflict so much anymore.

It had become a common occurrence for the [hair colour] female to not-so-gently whack both red and brown on their head if they annoyed her too much.

In other words, every half hour then.

And [Name]?

She, like her honey-brown orbed male, developed quickly before (just like Kouyou predicted) becoming one of Port Mafia’s top hackers.

“Say [Name]-chan…” Dazai asked to the fifteen year old, as the tiniest (belated) celebration was held in Dazai’s apartment for him becoming an executive, “why did you become a hacker? Surely, someone with such high intelligence could become a well-respected government official where the highest protection could be given? But, that’s not to say Port Mafia lacks any protection…”

“Why ask Dazai?” She answered, sipping her favourite drink, her [eye colour] watched carefully at the ice in her drink

“Just curiosity. But, to be honest, you do not necessary have to tell me if you’re so seriously against it.”

“Dazai’s right,” Chuuya walked towards the two, and in an instant, the calming look on Dazai’s face morphed one of a scowl, Chuuya’s expression was almost an exact mirror image, [Name] however, just retained her pokerface, “you can tell me about it.”

“Oh? Who’s talking? I-is it a ghost? I can’t see anyone.”

“You-!”

[Name] sighed, she pondered to whether tell the story just to get them to not murder each other for a while. Ah well, there’s nothing wrong with a little bit of sharing one’s past eventhough one of them is an executive right?

That’s… what fr- no, no such words and meaning exists in Port Mafia.

“As you may know, I have an ability… dubbed, “The Sun Also Rises”… its power is similar to our only star – the Sun.” She held up her ice drink and activated her ability, the chunk of ice in her glass melted until it was no longer there, “I can manipulate heat with my entire body, which gives off light at the same time… that light could be used on solar panels to generate electricity.”

“… Which is why the laptop you carry has solar panels… so you could work without depending on electricity in an emergency…”

“Exactly correct Dazai. Now… as to why I became a hacker… my parents were in Port Mafia as well, and my mother was also an experienced hacker, my father, on the other hand, was one of the lowest ranking employees they have… as unlikely as it was, the two fell in love and… here I am.”

She took a mini break in her explanation by sipping her favourite drink, which now was disgustingly warm (no) thanks to her Gift. She made a disgusted face, throwing her tongue out. All Dazai could think of was how the normally expressionless female could made such an expression, it really was a valuable and rare moment.

Damn… such a nice change… he thought, she should express herself more…

“Then, father died… perished because of a bullet wound, which of course, was fatal… though he was one of the lowest members of the organisation, he was popular among the mafia as well… always looking out for people when he was on missions, which was partially why there were a lot of people at his funeral.”

Her once calm [eye colour] hardened, before continuing.

“However… the thing is… it was his day off, mother was in an important meeting with the executives and she took me along, of course, I wasn't present in the room, but outside, playing on a gaming device, while father was at home… resting as he got home late last night. However, several hours later someone broke the news to mother and I that father died.”

Silence, “At that time, I did not know what the word “died” meant, well, perhaps my parents wanted me to stray as far as Port Mafia as I could… huh? Well, guess that failed, I mean… look at me now. Anyhow, the thing is… though some amount of money was stolen, there was not a single sign of struggle at out house… besides, father would never be outdone by a simple burglar… which lead both I and mother to the conclusion of… someone purposely murdered him.”

“And so by doing technology-based work, and moving up the ranks using any means necessary, you could uncover the profiles along with autopsy and paperworks, some of these are not even revealed to the victim’s family.”

“Correct again Dazai… but to be honest… I guess I really had a thing for numbers and hacking… unlike humans, if you simply input a correct numerical formula and formula alike, the computer would do exactly what you told it to do… whereas humans would constant have their own minds… along with pure emotions as obstacles… but then, I guess I was lonely too as well, I mean, I used to think numbers were my friends, who would do anything I asked…”

“Ah, you’re so weird [Name]-chan~” in an instant, the teenager felt a harsh click on her forehead

“Wh-what was that for Idiot-zai?” She pouted, her free hand furiously rubbing the spot

“Oooooh, nice nickname for this right here!”

“Shut up little guy.”

“You-!”

“But [Name]-chan, if ‘friends’ is the wrong word for us, we’re your… well, we’re less than friends, but we’re something… ah, except for this right here… I don’t wanna be even acquaintances with him.”

“My thoughts exactly Dazai! You’re just a bandage-wasting-sorry-state-of-a-human!”

“Ehhh- but who was it that got promoted to an executive in this room I wonder~? Executives raise their hands~” Only a bandaged hand was in the air, “only me then~”

WHACK. WHACK.

“O-ouch… so harsh [Name]-chan…”

“C-couldn’t you be a little bit gentler next time [Name]-chan?”

“And here I thought I could go an hour without having to hit you two…” The only female muttered, deadpanning at the two’s over-dramatic responses, “but, shall we… have a toast?”

“To what?” The opal eyes questioned, though he raised his glass as Dazai did the same

“To… whatever this is.”

“Well… to our complicated relationship.” Dazai named

“To our relationship- wait, that sounded so wrong.”

“Hush Chuuya… to our relationship…”

“Cheers!” Three voices of different pitches simultaneously resonated throughout the Sun-kissed room.

[Name] then remembered something on the back of her mind. A wish made years ago…

-Flashback-

“Why do other children fear me so much?” The child, no bigger than ten questioned, compared to other kids her age, she doesn’t show a variety of emotions

“Is it… because of this so called “Gift”? Is my ability more of a curse…?”

She laid fresh flowers down on the gravestone, looking up at the midnight sky, thousands of bright jewels blinked down, compared to the endless expanding universe, she and her problems seems so small and insignificant.

“You said… on clear nights like this… you would always wish for something trivial and achievable, but you couldn’t bring up the courage to do it or the circumstances were vastly against you… you then explained to me that important wishes, no matter how impossible they seem, you would save those for comets…”

I wish for…

“Hey… would my selfish wish be granted? ... Please answer me… father!”

People to accept for who I am… people who would not be afraid of my position and intelligence… people who I would like to call… “friends”

-Flashback END-

 Dazai remembered that on that day, he wished to see [Name] smile… however impossible that sounds; he would be the one her vibrant smile would be directed to… though it sounds possessive, it was just a not-so-innocent teenage boy’s thoughts.

Is this what they call “love”?

Or is this what they call “friendship”?

Ahh… those were… peaceful days… tranquil days indeed…

 How much?

 Sitting in a certain Port Mafia’s office, with heaps of paper on the desk which hid the working member behind as another mastermind sat on a nearby chair, hurriedly clicking the buttons on her GBA[1] as if her life depended on it.

“[Name]-chan… maybe you should stop playing and work…” The red haired voiced his concern at the female.

Why? You ask. Partly to stop suspicions on how he got a female in his office, partly to stop people questioning her if they suddenly barged into his office, but mainly because with the way she was so absorbed in it, she reminded him of his oh-so-wonderful partner.

“Why? It’s a good game.”

Just like a certain bandage-wasting-human… “Say… did you hear about the legendary stolen sapphire-”

He stopped abruptly, gone the peaceful expression on her face, but replaced with partially between horror and anger.

“Sapphire… sapphire… Pokemon Sapphire… Kyogre just awakened by Archie, leader of Team Aqua and-”

“Wait, that was what made you ticked off with such a despising expression?!” Chuuya exclaimed, astounded how a simple game could cause his emotionless friend to be capable of such intense emotion.

“Chuuya, Kyogre wrecked my entire team… even with the usage of dozens of revives and both super and hyper potions… but then, it is a legendary, so what can you say?”

“I say stop playing such games or you’ll become intelligently declined like Dazai!”

She blinked at him. Her [eye colour gem] meeting opal before she resumed playing on her game, “It sounds as if… you’re almost jealous of Dazai.”

“Why-! I am more certainly not jealous of that!” He stomped to her form and yanked the game device out of her hands, “this is what I would love to do to him if it’s not for that blasted ability of his!”

Her GBA ruthlessly hit both ceiling and floor a few times before completely smashed into useless pieces because of Chuuya’s ability.

“Chuuya.”

“What?” He asked, still irritated. Him? Compared to that bandage-wasting-womanising-good-for-nothing-absolutely-useless-

“You are jealous.” She patted his shoulder, which tensed at the contact, before walking out of the room, not fazed at what just took place, “oh, and by the way, you own me a new GBA.”

 [1] – Let’s just say that the Dark era BSD universe is set in 2010s, thus it would be possible for reader to have Pokemon Sapphire as it was released in Japan in 2003.