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Asking Dazai ‘why’ never earns you an answer. You keep asking anyway.
He once asks you this, half jokingly.
“Do you want to commit double suicide with me?”
No one is more surprised than him when you actually take his extended hand. When both of your gazes meet, his gleaming eyes hide something, and yours do too. You never tell each other what that something is. But no one jokes about suicide unless they actually have it in mind.
“I guess.”
Dazai gazes at you carefully, as if to look through the wall you’ve built up. He sees nothing. An unreadable smile appears on his face.
“Oh? It would be an honour to die with you, Y/N.”
“Not really, death is just that: death. There’s nothing shameful or noble in it. Why do you want to die, anyway?”
He presses a finger to his smiling lips.
Shh…
He usually acts like a clown, but you know people like him suffer the hardest.
You’re one of them too. It’s not like you want to die. You just don’t find any meaning in living on.
How do people find joy in life? How do they not break under the pressure?
Is Dazai also not able to find this out?
You raise your hand, your ability ready to harm you any second now. Just like any other time, blood would calm you down. You’d pass out on the floor, then wake up like nothing happened. It’s normal.
Before you can strike, he grabs your wrist from behind and suddenly, all the power stops like a wave crashing into rocks. His touch is enough to make you powerless. You slump to your knees in despair.
Silence falls.
“Why…? Why did you stop me?!”
He hates pain, his ideal suicide would be dying with minimal suffering. You don’t mind pain – or rather, you just don’t care. That’s the difference between you and him.
He never lets go of your hand, as if to make sure you can’t harm yourself anymore.
You stand mere steps from the edge, Dazai by your side.
The sea underneath is vast and beautiful. It’s also cold and dangerous. After all, this is why you even came here.
You don’t feel anything. Dazai’s expression is empty as well. It’s just a little surprising that he actually acted on his invitation.
“Are we really going to jump?” you ask.
“It’s your call, Y/N.” He doesn’t look your way, voice devoid of any notable sound. It gets drowned in the breeze, disappears without a trace like a ghost.
You let out a bitter laugh.
“Why are you doing this? You don’t actually want to die, do you?”
He takes your palm in silence.
You walk up to the edge, then there’s no edge.
Dazai’s hand doesn’t let go all the way down until you hit the surface and get separated in the cold waters.
He wakes up on a boat. You’re not beside him.
The fishermen don’t dare to look in his direction, like they’re embarrassed. He imagines it must be embarrassing to save someone from a failed suicide.
His consciousness threatens to abandon him as dizziness clouds his mind. When he tries to stand and fails, one of the men forces him to lie down.
“Where is she,” he struggles to use his voice. “Did you find her?”
“Don’t worry, mate. It will be alright. Just rest.”
The fisherman’s face is somewhat merciful.
Dazai knows it won’t be alright. You died. He lived.
Your body is found on the same day. They don’t let him see your face, which is probably a frozen death image; a twisted mask of a drowned person.
You’re probably laughing at him now, along with Odasaku. You’re laughing at how big of a fool he is for thinking that both of you could break free. In the end, you did. But for him… Apparently, something still holds him in this world.
He doesn’t ask the question that’s never going to be answered.
Why…?