"Remember the roses I used to give you?" He asked
"I do."
"There were moments where I wanted to shoot you with a gun, but instead handed you a red rose "
■ ■ ■
In which both try to restore the original meaning behind the exchange of roses.
D...
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A M A Y A
four years after his last rose
The sky had turned into a reddish hue as the sun bid goodbye to people , marking the end of another monotonous and hectic day. But for some, the bustle was just starting, with Amaya being one of them. Meeting new people wouldn't be considered hectic for her , under any circumstances , but to meet Dazai - it was. After all, meeting someone who you ended on a bad note with and were so darn sure that if you were to ever ask for forgiveness, you woul d be burned instead - it was best to avoid them. But she was never rational when it came to him.
As the moon smiled and danced with the twinkling stars in the inky sky, the smell of alcohol hit the nose of the purple haired girl as she entered the bar , a venue for their usual meetups before they parted ways. The bar was the same as ever with the yellow lights and the soft music playing in the background, giving it a warm and cozy glow . The long wooden tables aligned with chairs were shiny and smooth, smelling like the oils that were used for its varnish. Behind the long table were racks and racks of glass bottles of various tints. A bartender stood there cleaning a glass and adding ice to it. His hair was greying, a warning by the reaper that he was a little bit closer than before. However, the smile that was etched on his face was as youthful as ever.
He hasn't changed at all, she thought , as her lips pulled into a soft smile when their eyes met. She gave him a small bow, and the old bartender returned the gesture before looking at the customer in front of him and handing him the drink. The receiver had familiar wavy and fluffy brown hair. It was Dazai. She didn't have to look twice to recognise him. She suddenly felt cold for a hot summer night. Dazai hadn't noticed her presence yet. Perhaps leaving the bar would be of no harm. He should have expected that , didn't he?
Instead, she pushed those thoughts in the back of her head and took a deep breath before making her way towards the man, who aroused bittersweet feelings . Her heels produced a clack sound against the wooden tiles as she walked towards him and pulled the creaking chair beside him before sitting on it. She wanted to greet him , but her voice was stuck in her throat. On the other hand, Dazai seemed to be immersed in his own thoughts (or so it appeared to be) and played with the huge ice sphere that occupied half of the glass. In the background sounds of clanking and sliding of the glasses ,the bell that welcomed the new customer, the creaking of the chairs, and the stories that were spilt by others were heard, which slowly and steadily faded away, turning into white noise as Dazai finally turned in her direction, his gaze meeting hers.
He smiled, a smile that was devoid of sincerity. His face was bright and cheerful, but his dark and calculative eyes gave away the mask he so meticulously wore. After all, she knew him long enough to know what part of him was fake and what wasn't. But again, to her, the real him was the one as the mafia executive. She wouldn't be surprised if that was a façade too, since he trusted no one.
" Ya," He greeted her with a light-hearted voice, as though they were good ol' pals.But that only ticked her anxiety further as her mouth that was slightly open remained to be so. Another failed attempt to speak.
