Jabberwocky ↠ Dazai Osamu

7 | Humpty Dumpty

It was said that there's no place like home. It was the one place she couldn't remember returning to. The familiar scent of her home cleared her nostrils from the intoxicating alcohol and suffocating smoke. She swore the strong scents would linger on her damp and bare skin. Her weak arm swept across the empty space next to her. The dented sheets were ruffled next to her, indicating there had to be someone accompanying her from the previous night. Lifting the sheets from her legs also displayed the purple bruises marking her inner thighs.

A groan escaped her lips as the blinding rays shone through the window of her room. The immediate soreness she felt brought her hand to massage the center of her throat. Her foggy mind didn't have to think twice to know that her neck was littered with the purple bruises matching her thighs. She wasn't delirious to not know what or how much occurred with Dazai Osamu.

[Name] felt panic gradually build up inside her when he wasn't by her side. She recalled the time she felt saddened by his sudden disappearance from all those years ago. This time, however, was different. She could feel devastation beginning to overflow her. Anyone would hate this messy feeling. She needed the very man who made her feel disconnected from the world and come to terms with her emotions. She believed a world without him would destroy the life of grace and charity within her, creating the threat of eternal damnation.

She carefully slid her legs down to the floor, the sharp pain from her abdomen causing her expression to morph uncomfortably. Goosebumps formed on her skin as she felt the cool breeze sweeping over her naked body. Not even the golden gleam of sunlight was strong enough to bathe her skin with its warmth. Life felt still, indwelling, and silent from her sudden heap of panic. The midst of winter generally invited her to quiet her mind and yet, this moment felt more tortuous than ever.

She threw on a large shirt that covered her body mid-thigh as anything shielding her body would've sufficed. Her hand reached to grasp the doorknob until a wave of hesitation hit her. She didn't want to face the harsh reality of it all if he disappeared once more. She fought with her conscious for what seemed to be an extended minute until her hand twisted the doorknob. Her teeth bit the tip of her tongue when she allowed herself to open the bedroom door.

The first place her eyes were set on was the sofa as she would recall him favoring that spot. But no, he wasn't there. Instead, her eyes caught him lying on the floor beside the coffee table. It seemed like he also didn't bother properly clothing himself as he only had on his unbuttoned shirt and beige pants. His hands were overlapping together and resting against his chest. His brown eyes remained staring at the white ceiling, seemingly unaware of her presence.

Her feet guided her to the spot above his head and looked down on him. The invasion of his view caused him to stupidly blink at her. The pair said nothing to each other as she paid attention to his disheveled hair spread on the floor in short waves. His lips appeared to be saturated and his bruised neck replicated hers, most likely from her doing.

Her quiet voice finally inquired, "What are you doing?"

Dazai put no real thought into answering her question. "Exactly what you think I'm doing."

She let out an obscure laugh as she allowed her sore body to rest beside his, their heads lying opposite from each other. Her limbs fell into a sort of angelic sprawl as her eyes met the white ceiling that once entranced her.

The color of the ceiling used to strangely calm him. It was such a pure and foreign color to the man. The color of a blank canvas waiting for its impending future of being transformed into something extraordinary. It was such a lonely color. It was such a purifying color. It was a color that he wasn't at all familiar with when he was once affiliated with the Port Mafia. Because all he saw was red. All he saw was red from his ivory hands. Red spilling out from the body of a man he once called a friend.

"Are you going to leave again?" She timidly asked.

"Would you want me to say till we meet again?"

"I shouldn't know you again if we did meet. You're so exactly like other people," [Name] replied in a discontented tone, waving her finger in the air.

"The face is what one goes by, generally," he remarked in a thoughtful tone. She held in a laugh.

"Your face is the same as everybody has. The two eyes, nose in the middle, mouth under. It's always the same. Now if you had the two eyes on the same side of the nose, for instance, or the mouth at top, that would be some help."

"It wouldn't look nice," Dazai objected as he lifted his torso from the floor. He shut his eyes and remained silent. She waited a minute to see if he would turn around to face her, but he never opened his eyes or took any further notice of her.

She couldn't help but quietly say to herself, "Of all the unsatisfactory people I ever met..."

She never finished the sentence, for at that moment she felt the palm of his hand rest against her cheek, in which she leaned on with a smile.

She was in a Wonderland she didn't want to wake up from.

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Thank you everyone for supporting this story! It was fun experimenting with Dazai's character aside from my other story Synchronous. As much as I would love to create special and extra chapters for this story, it won't happen due to the fact I'm content with the way it has ended in my mind.

This will also be the last story I will ever write on Wattpad and I mean it this time. I honestly would've thought quarantine would make me have more time on here, but it really hasn't, so I am very sorry if it seems I have neglected this story and interacting with other authors!

And quick question, does anyone know what happened to Black and Blue Bandages on Archive of Our Own? I can't find it anymore and I really need my daily dose of Dazai.

「Published on May 21, 2020」
「Completed on May 21, 2020」