Generations of Rain || Dazai Osamu/Reader

10. dazai.

The sun doesn't shine anymore in the place you're in.

You have no ingenious revelations about sadness and its profound effect on its host; you only had a huge weight in your chest that you dubbed as despair.

You're a deadman walking, a symbolic representation of a living corpse, wearily weaving through the crowd with a lost, almost forlorn look in your eyes. The sunlight is searing against your nape, before dissolving into golden pools—only your shadow remains opaque in the transparent Midas' world.

Was it time to sabotage yourself again? It almost seemed like it was the only choice sometimes; you felt alone, so lonely, even with the presence of Dazai, and only in the past did you find an inch of solace. But you can't go back—you could, but you wouldn't survive, because the two realities are claiming you at the same time. Such things are too much. You can salt your heart, or kill your heart, or dismiss it as another organ; you can choose between the two realities. There is so much pain there. Going back after a long time makes you mad because the people you left behind do not like to think you've changed, will treat you as they always did, accuse you of being indifferent, when you are only being different.

But in your case, did you have anything that would accuse you of being indifferent?

You suppose that would be Dazai; you know he's your anchor; his death would mean that you would truly be alone in this dog-eat-dog world. His death would render you invisible—no longer human. Not quite human, not quite monstrous.

"So this is the place Odasaku's been visiting."

The bell above the door rings and you look up from wiping the bar counter. You quickly hang the towel and place your hand on your midriff, before bowing.

"Welcome!" You lift your head back up and find that the young man has already taken a seat before you. "What can I get for you today?"

"What does Odasaku get?"

You blink—he must be a friend of Odasaku.

"Usually a scotch on the rocks." You reply. The man shrugs.

"I'll get that then."

"You don't look like a drinker," You screw the top of the bottle off before pouring its content into a glass. "In my eyes, at least."

"I'm really not. I'm just getting a drink out of courtesy," He rests an elbow on the counter and looks at you, almost too intensely as if judging you for something. "You know how lonely Ango and I have been? And here you are, soaking up Odasaku's time."

"I'm sorry," Your words end in a giggle. "But Odasaku and I are having a blast together."

"I bet you are," The young man says. His voice is dulcet and smooth despite the ragged look he has; his long black coat is hanging over his shoulders, the sleeves shuffling against him with every breath he takes. There are bandages over his eye, wrapped around his head, with fluffy brown locks reaching down to his chin. He looks around 18 to 20. He watches you as you slide the drink to him.

"There you go," You cheerfully say. He takes the drink and takes a small sip, before placing the glass down onto the counter.

"Hey. What's your name?" The man asks. He squints his eyes at your nametag, "Ah, so you're (last name) (first name). Taker of Odasaku's time."

"It's not my fault he comes by this bar more than yours," You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. But you can't stay mad for long, your face dissolving into a smile at the thought of the red head. "He took me out for dinner a couple of days ago."

"Did he now?" The man says.

"Mhm. What's your name?" You ask, tilting your head to the side. The man mysteriously smiles, his bangs covering his eyes as he tilts his head down, before submerging from the shadows with a cheery smile. A smile that strangely looks eerie on him.