31 Days Of Dazai

"don't move"

Dazai's body feels as though it is made of lead, movement feels like as impossible feat, but nonetheless, he tried.

First, it was wiggling his numb fingers, it felt as though his body was stuffed full of cotton, everything is disconnected and out of place, his senses are everywhere except where they should be, and the amount of effort it takes to simply crack his eyes open is tremendous.

He feels a sigh escape him, and with its exit brings his ability to hear, returning once more as the buzz of lights and the ticking of a clock fills the air.

Eyes still attempting to close once more, partly because of the brightness of the room, and because of how exhausted he was, Dazai slowly craned his head to left, squinting to observe his surroundings.

Beside him, was another cot, with an occupant of it's own.

Kouyou.

Her hair was undone and she was dressed differently from when they'd left, in a white yukawa rather then the suit she had put on to making traveling easier. He noticed her hands were cuffed to to the sides of the bed, a startling discovery to say the least.

Dazai managed to lift his right arm, and the clink of metal against metal and his arm being unable to reach particularly far brought multiple things to light.

  1.) Dazai was chained to the bed, just like Kouyou, wrists bound by cuffs at the sides of the bed, leaving him incapable of extending his arm at all.

  2.) Dazai's clothes were changed, professional wear switched out for a yukawa as well.

  3.) He wore little in the way of bandages, old scars were left uncovered for any and all prying eyes to see, he could only feel the reassuring pressure of the gauze on specific parts of his body, which were all fresh wounds.

And lastly, the fourth, that he wasn't the only conscious individual in the room.

"Don't move, you're still ill and fairly hurt." A deep baritone voice spoke to him, and caught completely off guard, Dazai's head snapped towards the source of the noise, and while his sight still remained blurry from sleep and illness, he managed to make out the figure of a blonde man sat in a chair in the corner of the room, seemingly reading a book. It was difficult to tell when colours all melted into each other as they did.

"Wha's... going on?" Dazai's voice slurred as he fought to keep awake, sleep threatening to take him once more as he attempted to the mysterious individual he shared the room with.

"You and that woman trudged through a blizzard to get here, and you both ended up passing out. You're both being treated for frostbite and dehydration among... other things." Dazai allowed his body to tax against the mattress once more, eyes slipping shut once more, head swimming with thought as he attempted to understand what was going on.

So they had made it, though just barely, and now they were, presumably, in the Agency, and while not being welcomed with open arms, they hadn't be dropped back on the street while unconscious to succumb to the elements. Generally, Dazai would say that's a fairly good start.

"... Where are the rest of my bandages..?" Dazai managed to murmur out, voice significantly softened by sleep, not betraying how panicked and thrown off he was about the lack of protection, the shield he used to keep himself unseen by eyes filled with pity and disgust.

(Did this man have pitying eyes? Many did without realizing, he hated those expressions they'd make, looking as if he were something to gawk at and murmur about what w tragedy he was. Was he a tragedy? Dazai caused tragedy, but that didn't mean he'd been on the receiving end, he'd seen others who truly were the victim of circumstance, but Dazai was not one of them. A thing like Dazai could not be a victim, not of any crime or act, lowly beasts like him took what they got, whether they liked it or not.