DARK RED ‣ d. osamu

O4.

   "THIS IS GOOD, BUT this isn't exactly what i thought you meant by 'crab.'" after she sat down, those were the first words dazai said. "i like canned crab better."

   "canned crab isn't always healthy. there's paper in cans sometimes, and there are shells as well. you shouldn't risk it all the time."

   she was met with unwavering silence. his eyes widened for a split second, and he just sat there, staring with uncertainty. it wasn't because of the warnings, of course. barely anyone ever gave him even the slightest bit of mutual care—just the same bit of terror in their eyes and body language—fear of him, the 'demon prodigy,' widely feared because of his ruthless tactics and sinister presence. being cared for wasn't apart of his to-do list today. he had shot her, tortured her while she was asleep, and forced her to interfere with the port mafia, all because of a few silly jokes she made about him, but she still invited (not quite) him into her house, gave him food, and even scolded him about the dangers of canned crab because of her concern of his wellbeing. what kind of heartless monster was he?

   "...i'll take that thought to mind the next time i buy food." a lie, of course, so blunt and plain that you couldn't even suspect it no matter how hard you tried. "speaking of which, are your parents waking up anytime soon?"

   she shook her head. "no, they wake up pretty late. you'll have to go before ten if you want to sta—"

"i'll stay."

   she paused for a second. what could he want with her? perhaps another method of torture, to drive her anxiety crazy and get herself killed by her parents? he'd probably find satisfaction in that, that he got rid of her at last. yeah, that's probably it.

   this place brings me a lot more comfort than i thought. i hope she won't mind if i stay, dazai thought, his intentions opposing what she supposed he was thinking of.

   "...well, in that case, i won't be getting sleep tonight," she replied. "since you'd be bothering me while i sleep."

dazai stifled a laugh. "yeah, right. i bet you snore so loud i wouldn't be able to sleep."

   she rolled her eyes, revealing playfulness behind the many layers of her human body. "the sleeping bag is in the closet. grab it before casper the ghost steals it from you."

   this time, he couldn't help but laugh. it was nice to hear his genuine laugh—so unlike the usual facade, that he put up in front of everyone. who knows? his 'facade' may be another facade in itself. he was simply unpredictable, unlike the weather that was forecasted on the news every morning with usual accuracy. "you remind me of someone i know. maybe casper the ghost would steal you away and eat your legs first."

   the two idiots broke out into laughter, nearly alerting the servants. "shit, the servants already went to sleep. c'mon, upstairs." when they went up the staircase and passed her parents' room, [name] eyed it with a terror-struck glance. maybe the anxiety of getting caught? that was probably it.

that, and other reasons, possibly.

   "there should be plenty of space." the door rattled open, and dazai was met with a room strung with fairy lights, a poster or two, a bed with many pillows that looked like heaven, and a desk with stationery and decorations on it. there were curtains around the room with pots of starflowers and belladonna. beside her bed was a dresser with a candle, a pair of headphones, and a stack of books on it. she threw her phone beside her headphones.

belladonna, dazai thought, eyeing the plants. aren't they poisonous?

   these were other hints of possible suicidal intentions. but she had clawed and fought for her life during that school shooting, yet these hints were so plain that it couldn't be any more obvious that she was.

   "just set it down anywhere you want." the small eyebags were visible under her pools of [eye color], and she plopped down on one of the cushions in the small library area she made for herself a while back. just an average schoolgirl, the same age as him, with papers, homework, and grades to stress about. she set out every day for the bus in uniform and bag. however, she was also the new port mafia subordinate, the one who was soon going to trod on a dangerous path of life, with blood on her hands and her soul darkened by her surroundings. she was almost like him, even, and he saw a layer past the oceans she kept in front of everyone. nothing to feel, nothing new, nothing to wake up excited for, an endless cycle of school and work, with the addition of a job weighing her shoulders, along with her feelings and "soul" to deal with.

   she used to be the little girl that went right up to him and insulted him on the streets, with a high and mighty walk like a queen, and still she was intriguing and tired. she wanted to detach herself from this world, and she also wanted to cling to life as much as possible, enjoy the small details embroidered into it, like the sunset, walks on cloudy and rainy days, and the sound of children playing with their parents at the park. so much to live for—to wake up every day and smell fresh coffee brewing in the kitchen, to set out for school and see your friends, to go through grades and the abnormality of school lessons, yet people still wanted to die earlier.

sometimes you could see clearly why.

   other times, the pit full of vines and dead plants inside their souls was unnoticeable, where people bottle up the little poisonous drink called emotions and stack it in the back of the fridge. instead of venting or giving out their feelings to someone else, they liked to scribble over themselves and act happy around their friends, family, and hell, even lovers. dazai set his sleeping bag on the floor, and a few pillows and a blanket were thrown at him. he caught them successfully and started to make his sleeping area comfortable. not that he ever was.

  the places and spaces the two of them ever made were comfortable, not themselves.

   she lifted her face from a short novel, with a simple pink color and a dark figure on the cover, the title spelled out in white, spacy letters. the back cover had a blurb with a quote that caught the brunette's attention. it said, "mine has been a life of much shame. i can't even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being."

   that quote was similar, too similar, to his current situation. what was that strange novel, and why was she reading it? once again, another hint of suicidal intentions. his eyes moving to the ceiling, he caught sight of a rope hanging and his gaze narrowed.

a rope?

from the ceiling?

tied with a loop in it?

and she acts like she isn't suicidal.

it's a noose.

which people can use for suicide.