𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 | dazai osamu *EDITING

human

edited: ✓ | 5/19/2020

trigger warnings: self-harm, suicide, alcohol abuse, drug abuse.

I'm much happier with how I edited Dazai's character here! It was absolutely abysmal before LOL.

—

It was just a morning, like any morning, with the café windows swung open to let the cool breeze in, the distinct stench of the city life inundating with the schematic cafe aroma; it was simply oozing with simplicity and domesticity. It buzzes with quiet chatter, the occasional purchase of a sweet mingling with the soothing smell of grinding coffee beans. Nonetheless, you take a sip from the porcelain cup, the saucer stained with a dark brown ring from where a drop had slipped down the corner of your lips.

You know you don't fit the aesthetic setting of this café; your clothes were wrinkled and they looked more potato sacks hanging from a hook, your eyes were bloodshot and amplified by the violet eyebags hanging low, and your hands were quivering from exhaustion as though the cup in your hand was a Herculean feat. But when you look at the brown liquid, all you can see is a human. A person. Something more solid than a ghost.

But that's fine. You sit by the glass, your body no longer a sieve; the sunlight touches and stays on you.

You're too busy drowning in your rippling reflection to notice that two familiar figures had popped into the seats before you. Their voices are low, humming buzzes, barely reaching the insides of your ears.

Ah...do you know who she is, Dazai?

Of course!

Looking up, you see a man and a younger man before you. Sighing, you place the cup down on its saucer with a minuscule klink.

"Good morning," You tilt your head. It doesn't feel light-headed when you do so; what a fantastical thing to experience: The human body working properly. "Strange I wasn't greeted with one."

The one with choppy, white bangs looked embarrassed at the lack of etiquette. He shouts a good morning! and fiddles with his fingers, tucking in his chin into his collar. His thin eyebrows furrow when he can see the curl of triumph in your lips.

"Do you know who she is, Dazai?" You mock, a striking perversion in the calm lilt of your voice. Rolling your eyes, you rest your chin on the heel of your palm. He curls into himself when your lips bare into a crude smile.

Dazai chuckles but still pouts at your faux cruelty.

"Don't be mean to our newest member. After all," Soft, brown curls bounce when he puts his enthusiastically claps his hands together. "This one's suuuper good at acting like a worthless human."

Your eyebrows elevate from the white rim of the cup. The albino stammers something incoherent, side-eyeing his co-worker as though he wanted to say something.

"Anyways. Why are you here? Surely, your first to-do thing in this morning wasn't to bother me...or was it?"

"No, of course not! Not at all," Dazai exclaims, his hand gesturing to his co-worker who looked like he would rather be anywhere but here. "This is just Atsushi—I just brought him along so that you could meet him. He should be getting along to work now, bye-bye!"