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The blood pools around the corpses and slowly spreads to his boots. Fyodor doesn't move, however. He watches as the blood stains his boots and admires how beautiful it looks. His eyes fall on a dead man's face that looks like he died looking into the eyes of the devil. Maybe he did.
Turning his body away from the place that is painted with blood, he walks as if he is walking out of a shopping mall, both hands put together behind his back while humming a melody that he won't be able to tell the title if someone asks him because the song doesn't exist.
"Did you have fun?" he hears a voice coming from his back. He doesn't turn to look because he knows it's not real. Yet he answers.
Fyodor starts laughing like the way villains in movies do after their evil plan become successful, and it'll easily make people flinch when they hear it, but Fyodor knows if he is actually there, he won't give any reaction at all because he knows there's no threat behind it at all.
With his smile never leaving his face, he exclaims, "If you're here, you'll know the answer."
It's an invitation. An invitation that he'll never receive. An invitation that goes unheard whenever Fyodor makes one, yet he does it anyway. Don't ask him why, because even he doesn't know.
He wants to see Dazai. Want to look at him in the eye again and talk to each other like they're both the only person that exists in this universe. Or at least, that’s what it felt like when they both were in prison, Dazai’s stare burning through his skull with the annoying smirk on his face and no one, absolutely no one has made him feel so human before.
He wants to hold him, wants Dazai to make him feel weak because that's what he always feels whenever he touches Dazai, powerless.
He's incapable of killing Dazai, and he isn't sure if he's glad or not.
Nothing can defeat him, and nothing can save him.
When he told Dazai that, the bandaged man had a dark, clouded look in his eyes. He looked like he was clouded with anger, but Fyodor knows that's not it. It's something far more complicated, something that he couldn't put his finger on.
Dazai told him that he doesn't need to be saved. Fyodor knew that was a lie but didn't push it any further.
They continued to stare at the sunset while sitting on a grass field after the conversation. Fyodor doesn't remember a lot, but he remembers that before they parted ways, like they always did, Dazai patted his shoulder and gave him a meaningful look before he walked away.
Fyodor didn't know what was so special about the look at that time, but that didn't stop him from feeling like he was floating, with his feet still on the ground.
Now, lying on his bed at 3 am, eyes wide awake from the insomnia that never stops lingering in his room like a disturbing stench, he realises that was Dazai's way of saying thank you for not saying anything further.
With the answer, he slowly closes his eyelids and falls asleep with a certain curly haired man in his mind.
It has been months since they talked. Fyodor doesn’t know where he is. He spends too much time staring at the moon and wondering whether Dazai is looking at it too somewhere on this planet. He feels a sense of dreadfulness in the absence of the young man who looked at him as if they are an equal and it’s far too overwhelming, even for him.
Tonight, the moon is absent but Fyodor doesn’t move away from the window. He continues to stare at the sky and wonders what it takes for him to swallow the stars and moon away from the other’s vision. The darkness slowly swallows his vision as well, taunting him to never look away and watch as the sky shifts.
He stares, clueless with what’s happening in the sky because the darkness, right now, is secretive. It doesn’t spill the stars and moon and let it scatter down to the earth the way secrets spill from someone’s mouth but when it does, it’s done quite beautifully, celestial bodies scatter on the sky, constructing beautiful patterns that seem far too breathtaking, it’ll be foolish to think that God didn’t spend a great amount of time on it.
He can hear Dazai laughs beside him, like an audio recording that is being replayed over and over again like a broken record before it stops and provokes, “I thought you’re a god. Why are you talking about god as if you’re not him, then?”
Fyodor bites the tip of his thumb, ignoring the question. “Are you going to let me sleep tonight?” The voice doesn’t say anything.
Fyodor waits for a moment to see if the sky has something more to say. When he’s sure nothing will happen, he slowly walks away and goes into bed.
He doesn’t think they’ll meet sooner, but now here he is, standing in front of him amidst the overwhelming crowd, with his usual smile plastered on his face. “Hey, didja miss me?”
Fyodor blinks a few times, trying to make sure if the figure in front of him is real. Dazai burrows his eyebrows and closes their distance. “Is that a no?”
Oh, it’s real. He’s real. Fyodor glances away from him and walks away, because he knows Dazai will follow. “So, you’re still alive?”
Dazai inserts both of his hands into his coat pocket. “Someone once described me as a cockroach. Annoying and hard to die. I’d like to think that I’m living up to the name.”
“Cockroaches are disgusting and so are you. Add that to the list.”
He hears a snicker coming from him. “Rats are way more disgusting compared to cockroaches.”
Fyodor sighs. “How did you find me?”
He grins and speeds up his walking to be next to him. “Just a coincidence. Do you really think I have the time to stalk you?”
Dazai continues after a moment when he’s convinced that Fyodor won’t answer him. “So, how have you been this past few months?”
Horrible. I barely had any proper sleep thanks to your stupid voice that somehow continues to follow me. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. “Good. But it’s officially ruined now that you’re here.”
Dazai smiles and bumps his shoulder. “You don’t mean that.”
He doesn’t.
“Want to get a coffee?” Dazai asks while holding out his left hand to him. He traces the outline of his fingers with his eyes for a moment and looks up to the owner when the other extends it further, inviting Fyodor’s hand to meet with his.
He ignores it. “Only if you’re paying.” Dazai puts his left hand back into his coat pocket, as if that is the place it belongs to and pouts. “Fine.”
Cup being held with cold, long fingers, Fyodor carefully takes a few sips of the hot coffee and then exhales contemptly. Dazai rests his chin against his palm and stares at the man in front of him.
Fyodor shoots him a glare. “Stop staring and drink your coffee.”
Dazai obeys. “Ohoh. This tastes nice! What coffee is this again?”
“Café au lait.”
Dazai’s eyes gleam.”That sounds fancy.” Fyodor scoffs. “Anything French sounds fancy to you. Do you know what crap is in French?”
“Pretty sure it’s just….crapeque or something like that.” Dazai laughs at his own joke, ignoring the judging look coming from Fyodor. “It’s la merde.”
Dazai blinks, confused. “What?” Fyodor drinks his coffee and then repeats, “La merde.” Fyodor watches as the man in front of him blinks a few more times before he breaks into laughter. “That does sound fancy. Maybe all French words are fancy.”
Fyodor sighs and closes his eyes, his hand never leaving his cup. Maybe this is all just a dream. Dazai is too annoying to the point where he decides to invade his dream and torment him in his sleep. That’s got to be it.
“Fyodor,” Dazai waves his hand in front of him. “Earth to Fyodor.” He opens his eyes and stares at Dazai’s hand that doesn’t stop moving annoyingly in front of his eyes. He grabs it firmly and groans, “Stop that, Dazai.”
Dazai retracts his hand away. “What were you thinking of?”
“Nothing. There is a saying that if you want to wake up from your dream, you have to sleep in your dream.”
Dazai’s mouth curves into an amused smile.”Does that mean you have dreamt of me?”
“I’m trying to wake up from this dream, Dazai. It’s not a compliment.”
Dazai shrugs, “It’s still a win.” He takes another sip of his coffee before he continues. “Also, this is extremely real. Whether you like it or not.”
“What do you want?” Fyodor asks suspiciously. “I’m not doing anything suspicious, just so you know.”
Dazai jerks one of his eyebrows. “Oh, please. Your rats are always doing something suspicious. But don’t worry, I’m not here for any of it.”
“Of course you’re not. You can’t arrest me alone.”
Dazai smiles and rests his chin againsts his knuckles. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.” Fyodor finishes his coffee. He gets off his seat and exclaims, “Thanks for the coffee. Goodbye.”
Dazai grabs his hand to stop him. “Wait.” Fyodor turns to him and stares at him, urging him to continue. He tries to ignore the other’s hand but his skin can’t help but tingle at the touch. The other’s hand is so hot compared to his, it’s supposed to make him feel uncomfortable but he thinks even if Dazai is as scorching hot as the sun, he won’t mind at all melting from his touch.
“Let’s play.”
Fyodor’s eyes widen slightly, but it soon changes to normal in a split second. “Okay.”
Who is he to deny the temptation of the devil, right?
Dazai looks beautiful like this. Sprawled on the bed, chest heaving as though the room is slowly losing oxygen. He begs quite alluringly, muttering out a few cuss words before he gives in to Fyodor’s command and shows him his weakened self.
Fyodor leaves bites on his neck as if they are tattoos, something that brands Dazai as his. But he knows Dazai will never be his. Will never stay in his life for even more than 24 hours. It’s as if Dazai had an agreement with his Fairy Godmother that he has to leave Fyodor’s house before 24 hours hit or else his clothes will disappear or something.
It seems disturbing to compare both of them with a fairy tale, but now that Fyodor is staring into his eyes and watches as he slowly crumbles and shows him a sight that no one else has ever seen, he thinks absolutely nothing could ever be more breathtaking than this.
They might not be in a fairy tale, but Dazai can definitely be in one
“Dazai.” His voice sounds too soft, it can be easily mistaken as a sigh but Dazai hears it. “Yeah?”
“You good?”
Dazai laughs as an attempt to show him that he’s unaffected in the slightest, but his trembling thighs and the unshed tears in his eyes go unnoticed. “Never been better, Your Honour.”
Fyodor leans down and leaves a light kiss on his forehead and smiles fondly once he sees Dazai is closing his eyes again. He caresses Dazai’s cheek and his mouth curves into a wider smile when he leans into the touch. ”Moi horoshiy.”
Fyodor lights up a cigarette and takes a puff. Dazai sneers, "Smoking in bed? You're not careful aren't you?"
Fyodor exhales the smoke and watches it slowly spread in the air before it disappears to the opened window. "Nothing will happen. I have the ashtray right here."
Dazai laughs. "Okay, whatever you say." He touches Fyodor's hand lightly, slowly tracing the veins and feeling how soft it is. He leans down and leaves a kiss at the back of his palm and grins when he feels a slight jolt from the Russian man.
Fyodor doesn't retract his hand, so Dazai takes it as an invitation to keep on holding his hand. He lies his head back on the pillow and intertwines their hands together loosely. "Your hand smells so good. Do you use lotion?"
Fyodor nods. He takes another drag of the cigarette and then exhales the smoke before he continues, "I don't normally use it but it's a gift from someone and it'll be a waste if I don't use it."
"Is it one of the rats?"
"Doesn't matter, does it?"
Dazai smiles and then lets go of Fyodor's hand to rub his eyes. "Yeah, it doesn't. So, do you have some wicked plan in your mind?"
"What makes you think I'll answer that honestly?"
"I don't. I just wanna know your answer."
Fyodor stops himself from asking the reason because he doesn't care. And even if he does, the answer doesn't matter either way. "Maybe the first plan is to kill you."
Dazai's mouth curves into amusement. "That one failed, didn't it? And you wanna do it again?"
"I can just kill you easily right now." Fyodor lightly traces the other's neck bone before he wraps his hand lightly around his throat. He applies some pressure, trying to see Dazai's reaction.
His brown eyes show signs of disinterest, no care on what will happen to himself. Fyodor clicks his tongue and pulls away. "Killing you right now is a bad timing. I prefer doing it with an element of surprise.
"Ufufufu that explains your past attempts of killing me." Dazai stretches his body and lets out a groan. "Still, you're very interesting. Taking people's lives and then claims to be a god. I have to laugh."
"Isn't that what god does?"
"He gives life as well, Fyodor. You can get the G card as soon as you're able to make a baby."
Fyodor glares at him. "I'm not a woman."
"And we all have to thank god for that."
Silence fills the room for a moment before Dazai looks at him and says, "You say you're a god, right?"
Fyodor looks at him to acknowledge that he is listening. Dazai continues, "Well, are you godly enough to face your crimes and judge your own sin?"
The question takes him by surprise. If Dazai notices a change in the other man's expression, he doesn't mention it.
Dazai gets off the bed and then wears his clothes. Fyodor doesn't move from his spot, although he wants to stop Dazai from leaving. To stay a little longer. But he feels like he's not capable enough to do it. Not qualified to keep him longer.
As soon as Dazai finishes wearing his clothes, he walks to the door and then turns to Fyodor one last time before he leaves. "I'll see you later."
His eyes don't leave the door until he stops hearing Dazai's footsteps. He puts down his dying cigarette on the ashtray and then stares at the back of the palm Dazai kissed.
He inspects it for a moment before he brings it to his lips and kisses it.
He sighs, thinking of the last sentence Dazai said before he left. The way his eyelashes flutter and how his laugh sounds like the field of dandelions, slowly spreading its way from his mouth into his heart. Fyodor has to remind himself that he doesn't exist just to listen to the voice but it sounds so enchanting, he can't help but think it's not a bad thing if he exists solely to listen to Dazai's laugh.
The way he smells like lavender, sweet floral aroma invading his lungs the way cigarette smoke does, intoxicating the every fibre in his body, leaving him wanting more. Except he’s not addicted to smoking at all. He has a good self control, even more so than anyone else. But now, he doesn’t think he can say the same about himself anymore.
Staring at the white curtain that moves beautifully as its movement is controlled by the wind, sunlight shining onto it like a golden shower, Fyodor can’t help but wonder if something in his room has changed ever since Dazai visited here.
"Well, I am certainly not godly enough to keep you by my side, aren't I?"
The lavender scent continues to linger on his bed until he decides he has had enough and changes the sheet. Fyodor was hesitant at first, but he sleeps better at night now that his bed smells nothing like him.
That is, until he feels a huge urge to smell the scent again.
He starts to buy lavender scented candles and changes the bluebells inside his pot in the living room to lavenders. They make his house smell like there are nymphs and fairies living inside, but not Dazai. And Fyodor wants him more than he wants those mythical creatures
He wants to do research on the possible cologne that Dazai used but he decides that he's not that desperate. And Fyodor certainly won't waste any more time thinking about him.
A week later, the flowers in his living room died. He throws it away and then buys red roses from the nearest florist shop because, like he said, he won't waste any more time thinking about him.
Fyodor gets rid of the roses and changes it to lavenders a few days later because his eyes feel cursed from seeing how obnoxiously red the roses are every day and lavender is beautiful. It definitely has nothing to do with Dazai at all. Definitely.
Dazai's voice echoes inside his head that night, laughing at him for being so pathetic over a scent. Feeling overwhelmed, Fyodor yells, "Not everything is about you!"
Nothing screams back at him, because the night is quiet. The night is so, so quiet and Fyodor wishes to be swallowed by the void.
Fyodor thinks he'll go insane.
There are so many questions he whispers to the moon, hoping for it to whisper the answers back to him.
He receives none.
His mind spirals endlessly like a gyre that slowly swallows down ships into the darkest, deepest depths of the sea. He thinks the same thing is happening to his sanity right now.
He tries to stop himself from thinking, because all he can think about right now is his own doomed fate and the man that is the beholder to the brown eyes that never fails to haunt his dreams and consciousness.
The moon is bright tonight, as if it knows Fyodor's torments and wants to make him feel less lonely.
Fyodor is never lonely. Or at least, he doesn't think he is. He has lived his whole life alone and feared by those around him, he has started to think that he is destined to live alone and die the same away.
But ever since he met the man that is capable of touching him without getting turned into a puddle of blood, his life has never been the same. He tries to convince himself that it's his ability he's infatuated with. Dazai is nothing without his ability. He repeats it over and over again until an image of his smile invades his thoughts.
He'll still keep on pining for the brunette even if he doesn't have nullifying ability. He shouldn't be so scared over a mere revelation, but he is.
Fyodor doesn't think he can look at Dazai in the eye if they ever meet again.
When Dazai said “see you later”, he didn’t think it’ll be this soon.
He should’ve thought harder.
Dazai is standing in front of his doorstep, clothes soaked from the heavy rain that has continued to downpour from the dark, gloomy clouds for the past few hours. His rain slickened hair is glistening under the fluorescent light and his autumn brown eyes light up when he sees Fyodor. Fyodor doesn’t think he has ever seen someone so bright yet so miserable before.
“Fyodor, where were you? I’m really cold, you know.” Dazai pouts. Fyodor deadpans, “Why are you here?”
“To visit my wondrous enemy, obviously.” He runs his hand through his hair, showing his forehead. Fyodor is sure he learnt how to hide his emotion since he was a child just for this specific moment. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”
Fyodor gives him a long stare before he lets out a sigh and walks away from the man with drenched clothes. “Don’t blame me if you suddenly die because of poison in your drink.”
Dazai ignores the threat and laughs while stepping into his house.. “You’re going to offer me a drink? That’s so nice of you. Don’t blame me if your house suddenly got robbed by me.”
“Wait till the police hears that a detective is doing something immoral.” Fyodor sneers. He throws a towel to Dazai’s direction and then tells him the way to the toilet.
“Aren’t you gonna give me clothes to wear?”
“Can’t you just wear bathrobe?”
Dazai shrieks dramatically. “But I need proper clothing, Fyodor! Do you expect me to wait in your house until my clothes are dry?”
“I…” Fyodor gives in when he realises that it’ll be suspicious if he says he doesn’t mind if he stays longer. Not that his objective is to make Dazai stay with him longer. Absolutely not. “Fine. Wear any clothes you want in my closet.”
“Oh, also, do you have bandages?”
Fyodor looks at the wet bandages on Dazai’s body and realises that he has never seen him without it. He always wears it, even when they’re both… playing. (Dazai’s words, not his.)
“I’ll go to the store and buy one. You stay put.” Fyodor prepares his umbrella and then walks to the front door. Dazai’s thank you goes unheard as soon as he closes the door and disappears from the other’s line of sight.
When Fyodor comes back, he sees Dazai lying on his sofa while watching television. He is wearing a purple turtleneck sweater with forest green sweatpants, and this is the part of the story where Fyodor finds out that Dazai has a bad taste for choosing green to match with purple. He also looks rather unpleasant with purple. Fyodor can’t help but wonder what other colour doesn’t suit him.
Dazai turns around and exclaims, “Fyodor, you have boring channels."
Fyodor scoffs, putting the bandage on the table and then sits next to him. “You don’t even have a television.”
“Okay, point taken.”
Fyodor taps his knee rhythmically a few times before he looks at Dazai and asks, “Would you like a cup of coffee, monsieur?”
“I’m always down for one.”
“Also, you look awful in purple.”
Dazai grins playfully. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” Fyodor gets off the sofa and walks to the kitchen. “You really have no taste.”
“It’s your clothes thoughhhhh.” Dazai talks louder, trying to get Fyodor to hear him. “Also, pour a lot of milk in the coffee.”
“You don’t have to scream, I can perfectly hear you.” Fyodor sighs.
A few minutes later, Fyodor returns to the living room and sees Dazai already wearing bandages. He puts the coffee on the table and sits next to him. Dazai blows the coffee a few times before he carefully sips it and Fyodor can’t help but think it’s cute. “Did you go into the toilet or do it here?”
Dazai tilts his head in confusion.
“The bandages.”
“Oh. I did it here.”
“When I was making your coffee?” He receives a nod from the brunette. “That was fast.”
“I’ve been doing it for ages so I’m already skilled at it.” Dazai exclaims proudly, bringing the cup to his mouth and drinking it again.
Fyodor doesn’t say anything else. He sets his eyes on the television, acting as if he knows what show Dazai is watching right now.
“Your flowers are pretty.” Dazai points out and Fyodor mentally curses to himself for forgetting to get rid of it. He nods and simply says, “They are indeed.”
Dazai smiles softly and gazes at the lavenders beside the television. “They suit you.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You know.. Lavender flowers represent grace and calmness, which in a way kind of reminds me of you. But it also means purity and you’re far from it so I don’t know.”
Fyodor smiles grimly at that. “Didn’t know you’re fond of flowers.”
“I don’t.” Dazai huffs a breath and drinks his coffee. “I just read books about plants to search for poisonous ones.”
Okay, that is certainly way more logical. “Have you tried any?”
“Oh, tons.” Dazai remarks proudly. “None of them managed to kill me though.”
“Oh, I see. That’s unfortunate.” He says sarcastically, but Dazai chooses to ignore it and nods in agreement.
Dazai gets off the couch as soon as the credit rolls in. He takes his drenched clothes that is in a plastic bag and bids him farewell.
“Wait. Take an umbrella with you. It’s in the cabinet.”
Dazai grins at his offer. “Aren’t you a gentleman.”
“Take one only or I’ll break your bone.”
“Okay, nevermind I take it back.”
The occasional rumble from the darkening clouds seems to disappear slowly as soon as Fyodor hears the door is closed. He sighs, removing his ushanka hat and putting it beside him because he feels somewhat uncomfortable.
He gets up and opens the curtain. The view of the sun slowly shining through the clouds falls upon his dark purple eyes that resembles the thunder that has stopped. Droplets of rain that are falling from the sky are slowly getting fewer, as if it is dying the same way all humans are. We are all dying the moment we were born on this perpetually vast earth that is dying the same way as we are.
He thinks of himself. Of Dazai. Of humanity.
But most of all, he thinks of Dazai.
Dazai, who is dying but not in the way most people are. He seeks for death the way stargazers seek for stars. Those celestial bodies that are dominating our universe that know no limit.
Dazai searches desperately for it the same way starving lions seek for meat and even after being fed, they will seek for it again and again until they are disturbingly full because when you feed someone with only a little amount of food at a time, they get hungrier. The starvation will never end because their owner is provoking them, trying to test the limit of their pets.
Fyodor wonders if that’s what god is doing to Dazai at this very moment. Maybe he wants to see how Dazai will react after being exposed to the so called blinding light of death. Maybe he wants to see how long it will take until Dazai stops waiting for a woman to do double suicide with or finding a way to die without pain and just take a giant leap that will unknowingly bring him to the afterlife.
He wonders how long it will take for him to succesfully commit suicide. He decides he hopes he’ll never know.
Fyodor notices the umbrella that is missing is a purple umbrella. He ponders for a moment before he smiles at the realisation, laughter echoing in his living room. For the first time, Fyodor thinks it’s okay to stop trying so hard to hold on and just fall the way leaves fall during autumn.
It takes three dreams related to the brunette for Fyodor to give in and go pay Dazai a visit.
Dazai doesn’t seem surprised when he looks up and sees Fyodor. The Russian drags the chair opposite to Dazai’s position and sits on it without saying anything as if this is a planned meeting. Dazai blinks a few times before he breaks a smile and greets him. “Hello there, demon. What brings you to Yokohama?”
“My hoodie and sweatpants.” Fyodor glances at him for a moment before he looks away. “Also, an umbrella.”
Dazai laughs softly. “Walking into the enemy’s territory just for that? How unexpected.”
Fyodor doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t.
Dazai finishes his tea and then takes his coat. “Let’s go, shall we?”
Sitting on the floor next to the window, Fyodor softly hums a melody as he watches the golden rays slowly turning the sky into red hues, as if being splattered with blood. The birds chirp at the glory view but they both say nothing. No praises directed to the magnificent sunset that’ll soon lose its colour and descend into pitch black darkness. Just his hum filling the room.
Dazai gets off the sofa and sits on the floor. He leans towards the window, looking at Fyodor. It takes a moment for Fyodor to realise his stare.
“What?”
Dazai hugs his knees to his chest and softly mutters, “Do you want to stay for the night?”
The voice laughs at him for being pathetic. Fyodor tries to tune it out because he knows he’s not. Nothing good would happen if he stayed.
“How can you be so sure?”
Fyodor digs his nail into his skin. “I just do. I just do.”
They are in a cheap hotel, but this moment is priceless. Every touch, every kiss, every eye contact intoxicates him to the core. Fyodor can’t help but think what’ll happen to him if Dazai dies, leaving him alone in this cold, wretched world.
His thought dies when Dazai suddenly bites his earlobe too harshly.
“You’re insufferable.” Fyodor hisses.
Dazai laughs, his eyes never leaving the man in front of him as he slowly trails his fingers near his throat as if he is thinking of strangling him. “And yet you’re still here.”
Fyodor glares at him. “And whose fault is that?”
“No one, my love.” Dazai slowly wraps his hand around Fyodor’s throat and he smiles wider when he sees something glimmer in the other man’s eyes. “We’re all in this together after all.”
Imagine this : you are Fyodor, the man who is feared by everyone. You break whatever you touch, even yourself. Especially yourself. You are dying in every way imaginable by humankind and you are beyond salvation.
You believe you are unworthy, that if you don’t do something worthy you will die in vain. This unexplainable ability you have is a sin that feels all too unbearable when you are seven. You believe it will kill you.
You are entering your twenties. You still believe it.
You believe a lot of things, but you don’t believe in salvation. You don’t believe humans deserve to be forgiven. You believe abilities should disappear from this universe because it is a sin.
You are sin. You are crime and punishment. You believe the purpose of your extremely wicked existence is to purify this dying world that has bear enough evil since the big bang happened.
You can’t save yourself. Therefore, you will save the world.
It is impossible and futile. You haven’t realised it yet and you choose not to.
You choose not to, even when you hear those words coming from the mouth of the person you call equal. Because he is from the opposing side. Because he is your enemy.
Dazai is more than just an enemy. You haven’t realised it yet.
“What are you so afraid of?”
They are both sitting on top of a building with a box filled with ramune bottles that Dazai brought along. The night bears no moon but the occasional twinkling stars that peeps from the clouds. Fyodor turns his eyes away from it and looks at Dazai.
“You heard me, right?”
Fyodor nods. “Why did you ask that?”
“Just curious. And no, you can’t say things like “I’m not scared of anything” cuz that’s a lie and we both know it.”
“When you said you want to hang out, I didn’t think it’d be trying to figure out my weakness.”
“Don’t worry, just say it. I’ll tell you mine if you want.”
Fyodor ponders for a moment. “You really don’t want to know.”
“But I asked.”
“No, just-” Fyodor finishes his ramune in three consecutive gulps and then continues, “You will regret it.”
“Try me.” Dazai challenges him.
“You. I’m scared of you, the thought of you and what you’re doing to me. I’m scared of… you.”
Dazai says nothing. Fyodor doesn’t bother trying to read his expression because he knows it’s futile with how good he is at lying. He reaches for another bottle and opens it. “So, what’s yours?”
“Everything.”
Fyodor furrows his eyebrows. “Everything?”
Dazai smiles. “Yeah. Everything but you.”
Seasons pass by like a train on a rail, Fyodor discovers a lot of things about himself and the brunette. He finds out that they both are hopeless in unimaginable ways. Except Dazai is stubborn unlike him. He keeps on telling him it’ll work out even when they both deep down knows that it won’t. The world isn’t on their side and Fyodor is aware of this truth.
This will end with blood splattering on this dying earth.
Dazai is a wonder. He may be dumb, but he has a good brain. He is strong, but full of flaws. He should be bad at convincing people about certain stuff because of how little his knowledge is on the topic, but somehow he manages to convince Fyodor to give it a try.
Dazai is undeniably wrecked, but somehow he completes Fyodor.
There is no hope for this relationship, but Dazai is so disturbingly hopeful. He, who bears no hope whatsoever for himself, somehow has hope for their relationship and Fyodor is disturbed.
They will fall the same way dead leaves fall from trees, slowly fluttering in the air as if they are doing a performance but nothing is poetic about it. The leaves will reach the ground and it will be a reminder that they will end in vain, and with Dazai’s lips at the back of his palm, leaving a soft kiss that sends butterflies to his stomach, he is reminded of the fact that this will not last forever. He wonders who will catch them when they fall.
He whispers to himself that there is hope, but it disappears as soon as the words come out of his mouth like a gust of wind that appears to hold no purpose.
It takes a while, but slowly he begins to accept Dazai. The words he utter slowly carve beautiful patterns in his heart, replacing the old wounds that scarred him. Hand in hand, they both watch as the golden globe of fire disappears from the horizon, painting the sky with orange hues of hope.
Dazai says he completes him, but Fyodor thinks it’s the other way around.
Fyodor kisses the back of his palm and smiles when he sees a blush creeping up on Dazai’s face. “What’s that for?”
He ignores the question. “You’re magnificent.”
Dazai’s expression relaxes when he hears those words. A soft laughter comes out of his mouth. He tucks his hair behind his ear before he mutters, “Do you wanna stay with me for the night?”
This time, Fyodor doesn’t reject.
This will probably end with blood splattering on this dying earth, but before the day comes, they will rise the way sun does every morning, emerging from the other side of the world with an unspoken amount of glory and patience.