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Grey was a constant in his world. Grey painted the sky and land, casting everything into a lifeless collage. The colour even spilled into his body, sinking into his flesh and flushing out everything until only it remained. It creates the static that fills his brain and consumes his vision, pulling him under the line of breaking.
Some days it was bearable.
This was not one of those days.
Sound struggled to enter his ears, everything far too quiet and far too overbearing. A pin drop echoed through his ears endlessly, stealing away his breath and bringing the world crashing onto his shoulders. It snarled around him, echoing further and further, and yet the sound never quite reached his ears. It was nauseating the way everything, no matter how small or large, seemed to sear itself onto the body that didn’t feel his. The way all his senses were turned to the maximum, and yet he could feel all five of them slipping away, away, away .
Corpse cool soon filled his limbs, replacing his touch. A breadth of air slipped under his fingerprints; bubble closing around him in a choking manner. The body responded slowly and mechanically, uncertain if it was actually his will or some outer force controlling it.
He stared at his disconnected fingers, casually musing what would happen if he tore a knife through them. Would electric fire sear his nerves, brain spurring haywire at pain? Or would the knife clearly slice through the muscles, tissue, and bone, fingers becoming a physical representation of their feeling? Would the silver even be stained red, slick with sticky blood? Would the newly severed limbs spill their crimson delight?
His treacherous mind hissed those thoughts into his head, want mixing with a primal need to do . To grab the closest blade and put that idea into action. The sheer need to closed around his throat, tightening more and more until entertaining the thoughts were his breath.
Hands cupped around his ears as he curled into himself, praying to gods he didn’t believe in that they would stop . Begged for the static to calm, for colour to paint the world and fill his body. The lies he always told himself just to remain sane seemed more like poison than usual, needles piercing through his skull at their taunt. Such lies as “ it’ll pass ”, “ all will be fine ”, “ it’ll get better ” only mocked his small form, a cold reminder that it will always be this way.
No matter how often he smiled and laughed, the numbness would always be a permanent part of him. Even if he willed it away with his entire body and being, the grey would always be just under his skin. He could paint his skin any colour he wished, swirling it into his expressions and eyes but it would never be the same.
Infidelity grey, body nothing more than radio silence. Brain full of static, twisting his view of the world.
“Ah…” Dazai sighed, slipping his hands from his head. Instead, they buried into his hair and twisted at the roots. Even the pain felt devoid and distant, the hope of grounding his person to the mortal world slipping away faster than he wished for. “I should find a nice river…”