SHADES OF DEEP REDS, violets and blues of dawning light filtered through the stained glass, lighting up the otherwise dark hallway that led to dazai's room.
she put her ear to the door and listened for any kind of stir coming from the inside, but there was no noise at all– not even a pin drop, and in that moment she cursed him for being such a deep sleeper. mistaking dazai for passing away in his sleep was too much of a common occurrence. she never knew whether he just slept like a dead man, finally ended it, or was just pretending so he could catch her reaction.
losing patience, she opened his door and let herself in. why even bother knocking when every time he came to visit her room, he never once knocked himself? it didn't matter how many times she yelled at him for having no boundaries or concern for privacy, "i could have been naked for god's sakes!" he'd shrug it off with an "i know right!" and a mischievous glint in his eye.
"i'm coming in," the girl said, though she was already inside and ripping the blankets off of the bed. the sheets were empty.
"he's gone, kita."
she turned around at the familiar voice. chuuya stood in the doorway looking past her, leaning against the doorpost with folded arms.
"gone on a mission? figures..." she sighed, falling onto his bed. dazai's scent permanently marked his blankets and she loved how it filled her senses.
"no," chuuya stated.
his searing gaze alone was so absolute it shattered it all.
"the bastard left the port mafia."
༻༺
he hadn't been bothered to tell her or leave her a note.
dazai might have been mystery to everybody around him, but hadn't she spent the past four years with him enough to understand...? she told herself that something had to have torn him away, something went wrong.
wasn't it true, that dazai was more port mafia than the entire organization itself?
or had it all meant nothing to him all along?
what if he had gone and done it, died with no one around to save him and no one to say goodbye too. had he really wanted to leave the world like that?
maybe he was on a confidential mission that required him to fake his leave. maybe he just needed some time and space. he was odd like that, wasn't he?
it hurt. it hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much.
she had never known him.
she was just like everybody else. a pining disciple of dazai who pathetically convinced herself she held any importance to him.
she's worth so little to him that she didn't even deserve a goodbye, was that it?
forget herself, leaving the port mafia was a near impossible feat. a person would have to be absolutely mental to decide on a whim. now that sounded more like dazai.
and if dazai had left, he wasn't coming back.
'how could dazai betray us?'
what was he doing right now?
was dazai sorry?
did it matter?
dazai was a traitor.
that's all he was, a two-faced traitor.
༻༺
hot tears of hers splashed on the floor, eyesight too blurred with wet rage to notice the curious blue flower that had not been there before, sitting alone on the nightstand and gleaming in the moonlight.
