Nostalgia | Dazai Osamu

6| Replay

(Y/n) P.O.V

I didn't regret shouting at him. I didn't regret shouting at him for almost five minuets constantly. My throat had started to burn of metallic, and my cheeks and eyes started to pinch of pain. My head unleashed years of damage, chaos and agony onto him like a punchbag. However, not once did he flinch or refrain from his position of gazing down, eyes covered by the strands of his fringe, hands stuffed in pockets. I wondered if he had even felt anything as I shouted at how much I hated being alive when he was gone.

"Do you know what you did to me?!Each night I would be taken away by demons that stay with me for weeks and I can't get rid of them. They're trapped inside my head and it's because you left me with no explanation! The second you had gone my heart broke and the darkness had taken over me... You know my Gift gets out of control with my emotions... Why the hell would you do that?! Please... tell me... the last time I saw you we were in love and dating and you were everything to me..."

I sighed, trying to conceal my tears that felt like they were pushing against my eyelids.

My rage had eventually came to an end. I was out of breath and I suddenly felt exhausting from unleashing all this emotion. I stood there, waiting for an answer... but none escaped from his soft lips.

He stayed there, a statue with no life, dark strands of hair covering his half lidded eyes.

"Dazai?" I call his name, pleading for a response, a glare, anything to show he was listening. It felt strange yet nice to say his name I used to call as it rolled of my tongue.

"Are you not...going to say a single word?" I question. My voice had weakened from the stress of shouting and I wondered if he could hear the rage in my voice anymore.

He still stood there like his whole body was on pause, a statue only to look at.

Nothing would come out of him.

He felt like a concrete wall that I could pass, or a draw that wouldn't open... Why wouldn't he let me in and tell me what happened?

I lunges forward, grabbed hold of his shirt and shout, "Tell me!" He still never moved. His eyes didn't falter to stay put as they stared towards the ground, ignoring my desperate demands.

He demoralised my hope of ever knowing why.

Any yet again, he broke me. This time, I wasn't surprised.

Gently, I let his shirt slip out of touch from the grasp of my fingers. I take two large steps back.

Silence and distance was now the only thing we shared. Not even words were good enough for him.

My heart felt like it was being crushed and squeezed from his own hands without his own even raising.

"It's funny. How can someone so cruel be a part of something so moral and pure like the Agency." I say.cI notice he tensed afterwards, shoulders easing so slightly. Maybe if I persisted a little more, something would burst out of him.

But I was done. I was exhausted. I should have never have done this- I knew this would cause me more pain.

"I wonder if the Agency knows how many people you've killed, too? Don't interrupt with the Mafia, or we will kill you." I mutter.

I didn't give him a second glance as I walked away, crushed.

***

About half an hour later I was in one of the many coffee shops in scattered around Yokohama, head rested on both my hands which leaned on the counter. I gazed out the window, the energy of the city still as powerful as usual. After all, it was only about two in the afternoon. I decided to skip lunch- I didn't feel like eating, not after all the thoughts running around my head.