"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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D A Z A I
4 years after his last rose
In the azure sky the sun rested on the fluffy clouds , it's shiny orchid rays falling onto the salty waves that ochestred a beautiful and ecstatic melody ,which when garnered with the chirping of the birds and the whispers of the cool breeze, produced a euphoric effect on one's mind.
But for a certain man, vexation and sorrow was what clutched his heart whenever he witnessed the music performance arranged by the ethereal and ubiquitous nature.
Today was no different.
As the winds played a game of tug of war with his wavy brown hair, he stared at the stage in front of him, a habit , that he hadn't figured out how to get rid off. Although ,today, he was not alone, but it did nothing to help block the tsunami of self-loathing and animosity that swept away the rationality of his mind, as the unpleasant memories of the past resurfaced.
The youngster of around eighteen or nineteen years,sitting beside him ,sensed a change as he noticed the brightness from the seniors' eyes to dissappear.
"Dazai San." The white-haired male with eyes - a viniq of purple and golden - addressed his senior while he scooted closer to him.
Dazai hummed in response, urging the youngster to continue. He could feel himself succumbing to the tsunami, his soul going heavy, numb and tired , slowly sinking into the dark waters. He wished the talk that would occur between them could save him from submerging.
"What.... what is this place to you?" He asked, curiousity dancing in his soft voice. Dazai turned in his direction and placed the index finger on his chin, pretending to think.
"Well, you see Atsushi." the man before the questioner spoke in his feigned frivolity and childish-ness, but transparent fumes of anger found themselves breakthroug the façade, "A friend of mine liked the beach."
Atsushis ears slightly perked up at the response like a pet animal when its name is called out. Excitement flashed in his eyes . An opportunity had presented itself in front of the youngster. He had gotten a chance to know more about his senior , his model , who he looked up to.
"Where are they now?" Atsushi asked , his inquisitivity increasing a tenfold due to the motivation that suddenly had lit in his stomach.
Dazai stared at the youngster, noticing how he seemed to have leaned in a bit, eager to hear the answer, that would simply increase the length of the glass, he so wanted to fill with Dazai's answers. Curiosity was neverending , and so was Dazai's vexation towards this friend who reminded him of the purple skies and pink lilies, but who also reminded him of the sound of gun shots that often rung in his ears even at the absence of one, and the words that pricked his heart like thorny roses.
He had placed his hopes on Atsushi, but he himself sabotaged the chances of saving as he further drowned into those tsunami of memories and feelings at his own accord. He was an utter fool when it came to her. Perhaps the sort of saving he seeked was to remove the mask that he bore, even if it's only for 10 minutes .
