If he could say those words out loud, he would.
• • •
After falling onto your sides, blanket covering both of your bodies, rhythm falling into lazy kisses, Dazai buries his head between the area where your neck and shoulder meet.
"Thank you," he whispers. And it sounds so painfully honest that it hurts. "...For what?" You ask him, playing with a few strands of his hair. "..." He pauses to take a deep breath, closing his eyes, but he continues once he's ready, "for bringing some good in my life."
For shining a light into his dark world, for opening a new door, for— and really, he could be all poetic now if he wanted to, but...saying those words feel like enough. He had been wanting to thank you for a long time, but he just never got the chance to, never got a moment where it felt right—
It leaves you shocked, a little confused, just like everyone else that sees Dazai. Questions that he's always heard when he was walking by— 'Is he okay?' 'What's wrong with him?' He'd always hear the negatives, it was as if his mind wouldn't let him process the good things people may have said.
May have said.
He just never thinks it's genuine, or that he deserves it. Or that any compliment he may receive is true—because he's just so damn insecure. And it's weird because here he is, always acting cocky and smug about everything.
"Dazai..." you start, unsure because you're at a loss for words, but he cuts you off anyway. "You don't have to say anything," he presses a small kiss on your neck, "you knowing is enough."
You, Chuuya, Oda...you're all worth keeping around, he thinks. He's okay with getting close to you three, he thinks he is getting comfortable—obviously to a certain extent, but he thinks that you're the closest to him from the three. Well, that's something that doesn't need to be said—he loves you.
Loves you so goddamn much that even he's afraid of it.
And maybe that emptiness that he feels is going away, bit by bit.
He doesn't want to think too much about it, because every-single-time he does, he falls back, harder and worse.
While playing with his hair, your hand rubs against the bandages on his neck and he tenses up under the touch. He's not used to someone else's hands being on his bandages, let alone his skin. You've never asked about his bandages, they weren't something that was an issue. You had talked with Chuuya a few times and he had brought up that Dazai has a past. A past that no one knows about, a past that he may not even remember himself. Putting two and two together, it wasn't hard to figure out that they're something that bothers Dazai, something that he's not comfortable showing to others because he thinks they are unpleasant, gross.
It's not something he could walk away from, so he put it on himself to get used to the skin underneath the bandages—which is why he would sometimes take off his bandages at night when he was alone, just to get comfortable in his own skin. Fragile skin that hasn't been touched by another in so, so long.
One part of his mind tells him that if he was ever to show his body uncovered you'd ask to turn off the lights. The other part tells him that you're not like that—and he wants to believe that side so bad.
His eyes start burning because of the strain, he shuts his eyes, leaning in to feel your lips against his again. He doesn't move much, he presses his mouth against yours repeatedly just to feel the softness.
"Wanna be yours," he mumbles, holding onto you tighter. "You already are," you whisper back, melting into the touches.
Maybe it is all just in his head, and he's trying really hard not to start panicking as you hold him.
"Goodnight, [Y/N]," he whispers, still clinging onto you to stay steady. "Goodnig—" The hand that is holding onto your cheek starts shaking. "—Dazai..?"
Please don't do this right now. Please don't ruin a good day.
When he pulls back, eyes finally opening, he's getting out of the bed, and walking over to the bathroom. "I've gotta use the bathroom, I'll be back."
He closes the door without any sound.
• • •
Dazai Osamu, 14 years old.
"A game of chess?"
"You're just trying to keep me here for longer, but I already know the first move you're going to make," Dazai responds. "And what would that be?" Mori asks him, curious to see whether or not he's right. Dazai leans in towards the board, "You'd move e4." Mori's jaw clenches, a little surprised that he got it right, but he plays it off, "Why would I do that?"
"Well, if you move that pawn, you'd be able to move both your queen and bishop. It's a common first move, a good opening."
Hm, Mori is surprised and impressed. He wants to know about what kind of person Dazai is. "Do you enjoy chess, Dazai?" Dazai slouches back into his chair, shrugging, "I don't think that's the point," he sees the way Mori raises an eyebrow in interest, "there's not much about me."
"I've figured, we've known each other for several months and you're still so...secretive," Mori says. "I just have nothing to say," Dazai responds easily, like Mori's following the exact script he made in his head.
• • •
Dazai Osamu, 15 years old.
The sound of laughter fills the room. Things were starting to get a little better, a little more open. Open questions were more normal between the two of them, but Dazai knew when it was best to just walk away. Especially in scenarios where Mori was pressuring him to talk.
"You're like a son," Mori laughs. "You'd really want to be one of those lame dads' that are never there for their children?" Dazai responds, laughing with him. "If you're really going for family terms," Dazai starts, "uncle would totally be it."
Elise is listening to their conversation as she colours in a drawing from a colouring book. "Uncle?" Mori asks in horror. It may have been the last thing he had thought of. "You know, like a cool wine aunt," Dazai explains, "but only an uncle."
"Oh, so I'm not that bad afterall?" Mori questions smugly. "No one hinted at that," he rolls his eyes in annoyance, getting up from the chair. "Leaving already?" Mori asks. 'Yeah, well, we're not exactly friends', is what Dazai wants to say. He instead waves goodbye to both Mori and Elise before leaving the room.
He thinks about the amount of lives he's taken, hearing the sound of a bullet and hoping it would go through him instead. He wanted to switch places, imagining what it would feel like for the other people. It was much lonelier when he hadn't met Chuuya, whenever he looks back at it, he wonders how he managed. How he stayed there for so long, even if his only motivation of finding something worth living for was crumbling away.
He's...
Glad that he waited.