Mori did it again today, the itch was there, inside at the crook of his elbow.
Dazai never really liked the drugs Mori gave him, but he was grateful for them.
They were there on Mori’s good days.
Little glass vials, needles, assortments of tablets and bottles of clear liquid. They were there whenever Mori did not feel the need to get blood on his hands and over the table, they were there when he needed to play with Dazai. Not like how the old man would play, which Dazai absolutely hated to think about.
Mori would play games which the boy never understood the need for.
Games like dress up, hide and seek or even going out to shop for groceries.
The brown-haired boy couldn’t comprehend why shopping was a game until Mori explained there were rules and punishments which made it a game. Though even then, all Dazai’s life was rules and punishments or maybe crime and punishment like the book title on Mori’s shelf read considering all he did was illegal for normal people.
Was his life just a big game?
The rules were simple and quite amusing to Mori; Dazai would walk into a shop and take items without paying and without getting caught.
Collect items worth higher than a certain amount and Mori would reward him with crab sticks. The amusing part was that the kid had to do it whilst on drugs that caused him to be delirious.
(It was when Dazai turned 15 that he understood why Mori wanted to play games. Vita sexualis was stubborn and didn’t always obey orders causing Mori’s lust for control to grow. It also explained why the games became more undesirable over the years.)
He stumbled in the dark throughout corridors until he caught a glimpse of moonlight.
The boy followed the trail of pale light till he reached an open door, going into a sensual garden with many flowers and a small fire in a pit.
It seemed as if the pink haired woman owned this place. He saw her now and then to visit the sick boss, always with flowers but Dazai was no stranger to hate.
He felt how much she hated the man every time she roughly yet somehow delicately picked up the stems of the dead flowers and put in new ones.
The drugs were out of his system a while ago, but now the repercussions were coming. He felt the onset of a headache, so he sat his weary bones by the fire.
Maybe he slouched there for a few minutes or maybe an hour had passed, it was all disturbed when he felt the presence of someone creeping up behind him.
“I don’t appreciate grown-ups trying to sneak up on poor young defenseless me.”
“Well, you’re on my madam’s property so I suggest poor young defenseless you go elsewhere.”
“What if I don’t want to go elsewhere?”
At this point, the figure came closer and sat beside the tired boy.”
“Oh God, you look so young kid.”
“Yes. That’s because I’m a kid.”
“Your tongue says otherwise and the way you detected me. It’s not safe here kiddo, this is mafia territory, I would escort you safely home, but my madam will kill me if I leave th-”
“I know.”
“You know what?”
“I know it’s mafia territory.”
“Then you got a death wish or what? Leave now kid.”
The man stared at Dazai and it made him uncomfortable.
“I can’t, I have to stay here.”
“Wait, are you the kid of that... urgh what was his name? Oh yeah, Christopher something. Him, he’s dead kid, no point trying to get the mafia give you your dad back. This ain’t an action film where you need to stay to avenge and shit. Go home now.”
YOU ARE READING
Conversations in the Cemetery (but his voice doesn't go past the dirt)
FanfictionDazai assumed standing next to a grave meant people would leave him alone but it seemed like everyone wanted to unearth his past just as much as he wanted to dig up his friend's coffin.
