Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A/N - you can press play on the song above and let it run throughout this chapter if you want to! :')
You absolutely loved the movie theatre. Even though you were technically an adult, you still felt like an excited ten-year-old when you walked through the door and saw the big screen. You forced Dazai to get there early enough to snag your favourite seat, which was right at the back, in the corner, away from everyone and everything. You steered him to the back, casually plopping yourselves into your assigned seats. Dazai had actually gotten a scolding from Kunikida right before coming here, but thanks to Kunikida's soft spot for you, you managed to convince him to let Dazai finish work earlier than usual to take you out on a date.
"This movie better be good." Dazai told you, and you merely rolled your eyes and scoffed in response.
"Of course it's good." You responded. "Because I chose it."
You watched as other people began to pour into the theatre whilst the trailers were still playing; filling the rows of seats one-by-one. Inside it was as dark as night, despite it only being noon; the only light shining on your faces was the light beaming from the big screen. You simply sat there, hugging your family-sized popcorn until the movie began. You'd allow yourself to have a few slurps of your drink during the trailer, but that was about it.
On the silver screen the actor was stoic beneath his classic fedora hat. For a moment the only movement was the curling smoke from his half-burnt cigarette. The woman looked up at him from her all-night diner bay through thick mascara, long fingers pulling her own cigarette from lips as red as her dress. Her brunette curls tumbled down to her low cut neckline and if looks could kill, the guy would have easily been as good as dead on the checkerboard tile. With his mouth still a grim slash and his eyes unmoving, he tossed the photographs onto the table. This was what you loved about film noir. It was gritty, mean, and the characters played dirty. There wasn't a chance in hell that this picture was going to have a "happily ever after." The lady allowed her eyes to fall, taking in the black and white images. Her pause said it all. She was steaming mad but you were interested to see her act cool and in control. This girl wasn't just going to roll over, the movie was just getting started after all.
Hollywood crime dramas were definitely your drug of choice. In those choreographed moments, directed by the greats and acted by legends, you were weirdly free to explore your dark side. You rooted for the hero and enjoyed the sick logic of the villain. Murder and violence for lust and money, it made your soul tick in a way that ordinary life failed to. The movies were as much a drama in your mind, your inner self, as it was a story played out on the silver screen. You were, in fact, a self confessed "film noir" junkie.
Meanwhile, Dazai observed you carefully, his eyes flitting across the side of your angelic face. Your eyes sparkled as you watched the movie with such sheer interest—and he had never seen you truly immersed in something like this before, he could barely focus on the movie himself. On the silver screen, a delicate arm in an elbow-length glove reached across a starlet's dressing table at the exact same time that you had reached for your popcorn. The auditorium was a hush, and would have been completely and utterly silent were it not for the steady consumption of the concession snacks. The only light was coming from the movie, an old black and white film of your favourite genre—"film noir." For a non-smoking pacifist, you sure as hell soaked up cynical characters and scripts that promised "no light at the end of the tunnel" surprisingly well. Dazai was sure that there was a part of you that wanted to be just like the tough bad "dames," perhaps without the chain smoking. He found it genuinely amusing.
