Chrysanthemum Garden [Dazai x Reader] ✓

16. No tomorrow

Night was nearing fast. The lampposts positioned by the waterfront barely lit down the path Dazai led me towards by the hand; we were several feet away from the Agency (it seemed as though we'd walked kilometres out of their sight), and we descended a pebble-supported platform that fought against the abuse of the pleasant waves that hit the coast.

I was asked to sit down on a cement step built facing the water while Dazai's bare hands dug through a pile of stones he'd declared appropriate with the tapping of his sandals; he spent some time on it, and I began fearing that as noon neared, the lack of luminance dimmed his genius.

You've been digging for so long, Dazai... Aren't you mistaking this for a vision you've had perhaps? Perhaps you buried something here in a dream –

'Got it!' he finally announced, and I curiously strained my neck to get a look at it before he turned around; he stood up and grunted as his knees cracked and his back seemingly ached, then he stalked his way towards me and knelt by my feet. 'Do you know what these are?' – I shook my head. 'They're sparklers! You light this end here and – I'd better show you!'

He produced from the hidden fabric of his yukata a small lighter – an instrument which I often saw in Mother's possession before she lit a cigarette and a lung-infecting cloud revolved her. His fingers lit the small object and a little flame was produced from its head. I watched the burning body dance to the melody of our breaths.

But he put the flame out without lighting the end of the sparkler.

'I won't make any great use of this,' – he sighed and tossed the instrument over my shoulder where it rumbled on a pile of large pebbles. 'Forget the lighter. I don't need it because you can light these up –'

'What? No! Are you -'

'Mad? No, not for this,' he held my hand tightly and brought it to his lips; I could feel the warmth of his voice on the skin as he spoke into it, and the impact sent a rushing comfort across me. 'I want to prove a point tonight: I want to show you that you can do beautiful things with something that you (throughout your entire life) have grown to despite.'

He pecked the back of my hand and applied the kissed skin to his forehead. 'Nothing will get out of control this time because I'll be here with you. I'll be here for as long as you need me to be here.'

'But what if you're caught in it by accident?!' I protested, clutching his hand tighter while leaning in so as to not strain my voice. 'This could end up badly – This isn't the sort of "beautiful" I thought I was promised!'

He shook his head and scoffed silently. When I looked into his eyes as he looked up, I noticed that they had gone grim once again – Cursed be the night for having the ability to steal the light from his eyes!

'There's no beauty without pain, [Y/N]. But suppose I do get a taste of the flame, even if just for a second,' he proposed, sincerely: 'I can bear it. I can bear it because it's you... I hate pain, but I'll tolerate it if it's you who inflicts it.'

I bit my lip reluctantly but chose to placate to his request; I brought my free hand to my face and removed the eye-patch hesitantly, fluttering my eyes open until they'd adjusted to the dimness of day. I looked into his eyes, these that had softened at the sight of my full face having been exposed – but the light had not returned to his pupils.

'I'll let go for just a second, alright? You only have to look at the butt here, and once the faintest sparkle has triggered, you can go back to holding my hand, okay?'

I nodded. My breath hitched and I could recall a time when it'd been as uncontrollable as this; my breath had hitched when he called me an arsonist and claimed his desire to have a friend of such profile when he actively made me fear the death of someone in vain... But...