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She was just supposed to be a client, a faceless person whose problems are solved in the ADA.
Eyes lock lovingly in sky blue eyes with a symphony of giggles tracing themselves in the air like some sick joke. This world has its own creative ways to remind Dazai's place and it's doing a pretty good job at it. An amorous orchestra sings their love as they waltz around the dance floor perfectly as a prince and princess should.
He can't help but glare at the pair in their ethereal dance of affection. Atsushi wasted no time showing off the dance skills Dazai taught him to Taka.
To his wife.
His wife.
She's his...
As he once thought he was his.
What a fool he made himself believe such a blatant lie. As if Atsushi would be happy to tie his finger in a golden band Dazai would give, nevertheless a confession. Bandages constrict and tighten around his heart. Maybe if they do so hard enough it can stop beating naturally and he doesn't have to sit around to watch his- no, now her sweet Atsushi live the life he wants to.
His mind blanks and he no longer exists. Drifting away to the outskirts of reality and relaxing on a plane of existence that can't hurt him because this reality is bruising him. When there's nothing, nothing can harm him.
Nothing.
It's blank and full of dull colors he can and can't make out at once. It's quiet, like cotton balls settling in his ears to nullify everything around him as well as he does. This blankness is unsettling but it's welcoming as it is eerily comforting. He floats in the vastness of an unattainable place. With what little time he can be himself, by himself, he relishes in its nothing.
Tired lids limp forward in a staggering attempt to succumb to the darkness behind them. Dazai is a weak man, always has been, and always will be. Crawling back to his shell at the sight of anything that can rip his bandages away and cup his real heart is his default. Why must he always fall for the same tricks that entrap him in these situations over and over again?
What gives him the hope something will change?
That someone will change...
Him?
His eyes sink to the bottom, lashes resting at the dams of his eyes and the edge of his cheeks. If they're closed then surely the dam will hold the water right. Splotches of gray appear, fade, and circle around meaninglessly in front of the black screen of his eyelids. Faraway noise tries to trickle through his mind but like anything that touches him falls null and void, disintegrating into nothing at all. Remnants vaporize away.
Dazai doesn't want to leave. Leave him be in his own happy place.
Sad grayness disappears to truly leave him alone, nothing Dazai hasn't dealt with. Reminiscence of what he used to be, maybe even is now, almost like returning to an old friend you keep losing touch with but always click as if you hadn't left each other. He lingers for a while enjoying the company of No One until the splotches return.
They're brighter, a far outcry to the dimly lit gray orbs keeping him company. They're littered with soft pinks and yellows, intermingling like close friends do. It's beautiful and warm. He feels safe and content like he always does after wrapping himself in comforting bandages.
Please stay.
"...-san..."
I don't want to be with No One anymore.
"...-zai-saaaan..."
Don't leave me.
"Dazai-san!"
He jumps from one reality to the true one. His eyes flutter awake and suddenly he's aware of where he's at now. A beautiful venue littered with purple light with a few sprinkles of white, green, and red scattered about in no particular way. A crowd of people sway and move along to the beat of a soothing sound no one can resist a dance to. At the sides are people either seated by their clean tables eating delectable dishes or conversing with the other guests.
Upon the venue, beside him, is the belle of the ball. The single star that allows itself to be seen in the city sky despite the circumstances. Eyes that replicate the end of a day and the start of the next one. A personality as fresh as country air and as satisfying as the first sip of sake after a long day's work.
The fire to a dark cold night.
"Hm?" He hums, unable to look away from the intoxicating beauty the champagne in his hand pales in comparison. No one can make him more of a fool than Atsushi.
An angelic smile curves the edge of his lips as his eyes convert to crescents, "I was asking if you're enjoying yourself."
No, I'm not. Dazai matches his smile swishing the liquid gold around his glass gently. He can't help but notice how it tries to match its sparkle with Atsushi. "Of course I am, I'm at my little protégé's wedding!" He hopes his voice isn't too strained and too happy because Atsushi isn't his protégé for nothing. Through the years, his sense to pick up oddities, especially in people's behavior is frightening as it is impressive.
And he stares. Calming eyes carefully strip his only armor bit by bit in hopes to reach Dazai's true layer, self, and feelings. As Atsushi lifts a finger and raises his lips, Dazai spills anything he can before he's truly naked for him to judge.
"You're so mean, Atsushi-kun. Getting married before your senpai like this! The audacity and the disrespect!" He huffs much to the younger's amusement. "Don't laugh, I'm very upset by this predicament!"
Oh, how he means that. Through the delusional haze of rose-tinted glasses lies a bare husk of a man slowly rotting away on the inside. A childish smile accompanied by puffed up cheeks grants wild giggles he can only wish to keep for himself.
"You can get me back with something else."
Dazai smirks, leaning into his side, "Is that an invitation for a prank~?"
Atsushi waves him off laughing even more, "Please no, I already deal with enough of that with Taka." He finishes with a brighter and more luminous smile on his face. He practically glows under the purple bulbs.
Crack.
Taka.
He still remembers when they were both on a last-name basis. Atsushi refusing to address her without the utmost respect and lord be damned if he dropped it. But he did and everything's the same.
First it was Hashimoto-san.
Then Hashi-san.
Then he jumped to Taka-san.
He soon decided to drop the -san altogether to end up with Taka-chan.
Taka.
She's now Taka and yet the name drips with more love and worship than Dazai has ever heard in his entire twenty-eight years of existence. Or maybe he has? Did...Did Atsushi ever address him in such a way? Was there ever a time his name held that much weight?
He shakes the thought away, chuckling through a sip of champagne, "Sounds like a keeper."
The younger doesn't say anything and instead stares off to the dance floor where the bride laughs and dances the night away in the hands of her parents. She's a pretty young thing with a lot of personality to back her up. Soft strawberry blonde hair perfectly frames her nape with imbedded silver flowers and a few strands loosely hanging off the side of her face. An expansive blue sky for eyes holds more wonder than the world can offer.
And her smile. That damn smile really shows off what she has to give. A confident, outgoing, and beautiful woman who offers respect to those she likes as much as she demands it. A wonderful sense of humor and is as kind as Atsushi, only offering the best for the best. She even likes Dazai of all people, and sees potential within him to call them 'close friends'.
He truly doesn't deserve the title, not when he was screaming internally once their vows were read. In his mind where nothing matters, he objected to the wedding and swept Atsushi off his feet confessing his undying love for him. And he said yes in that world. They ran off into the sunset hand in hand where they can live happily ever after like in the stories. He pictured the two of them in an office, ill looks in each of their glares, filing for a divorce.
And yet, when he steals a glance at the newly married man, pure adoration traces the lines of his face. Hearts pumping in his broad skies for eyes as they sparkle with a big thing called 'love'. A cute pink blush spilling across the valley of his cheeks and nose, soon traveling up his ears looking like a pretty porcelain doll. A smile to destroy all smiles. Not towards Kyouka, not towards the President, not towards Dazai.
Who is he to ruin such a happy man?
Dazai downs the rest of his champagne placing it gently on the table beside him watching the crowd in silence as they continue to party the night away.
"Y'know..." Atsushi trails on, playing with the tips of his soft hair. Dazai would know, he's touched it before. He keeps his ears sharp and his gaze on him. "I never thought I would get married and so soon because I didn't think I deserved to be loved..."
He chooses not to say anything sensing the younger wanting to add more, so he keeps his lips tight. "You all taught me I do, even if it's still hard to believe, but it's a little easier to believe it now." A watery glaze wobbles his cornea as it mimics his smile. Oh Atsushi-kun, you deserve everything good to happen to you...
"I did think about it though, the concept of marriage I mean," he giggles before continuing. "I always thought I would die in the orphanage with no one by my side; friend or lover, but a kid could dream. A few years ago, I thought I would marry someone else..." Dazai's heart and breath hitches in a way only he can. Atsushi can steal his breath, rip his heart out, use him for all he's worth and Dazai would plead for more all the same.
He wants to be Atsushi's more than anything else in this godforsaken world.
But he feigns indifference, "Really? Seems kinda hard to believe with how close you and Taka-chan are." Ever since saving her from falling debris caused by the ugly slug, the two became tied to the hip the more she kept barging into the office demanding to hang out with Atsushi. He can't blame her when he's the way he is.
The younger turns to him, that angelic face eyeing him once more, a bit of a different look this time. His eyes are dimmer even raw-looking as his lips shrink into a phantom smile. It catches him off guard and, quite frankly, he doesn't know how to feel.
He loved someone else? When? Dazai would certainly know or at least notice differences in behavior between normal Atsushi and lovestruck Atsushi. A disgusting tang lingers at the back of his throat he can't cough out. It hurts and he wants it to leave but its done its deed. Who did he love?
The younger exhales through his nose in a mock laugh, "I guess when you put it like that then yeah. He's amazing." He? The horrible taste in the back of his throat rots into something even worse. His chest freezes as he wishes his heart would. A flash of a reality that could've been peacefully descends into its grave which he'll mourn for when he goes back home. "I never confessed but I think it was pretty obvious he didn't feel the same way."
Neither say anything as if letting the fact marinate in the shadows of the reception. Dazai sure allows it to cook. Atsushi can be as expressive as art but as subtle as a whisper in the night. He wears his heart on his sleeve until he covers it up. This topic has never popped up and if it did, his flirting would've kicked up a notch if it meant he could've been married today.
He had a chance. Not a great one but it's one nonetheless. He could've been up at the altar serenading his own love for him, his promises, a wedding band perched at the fourth finger of his left hand, maybe he would've been allowed to take his name. Instead, he'll imagine, he'll keep his promises to himself, he'll leave his finger empty, and he can practice his name on his tongue in the lonliest of nights.
Nakajima Osamu.
Nakajima Osamu.
Nakajima Osamu...
It has a lovely ring to it...
"Maybe I'll tell him one day. He'll be very surprised!" That laugh, god, that laugh sends him to the most beautiful side of heaven. All he wants is to trap it in a cage and keep it close to his ears and maybe then he'll finally have a good night's rest. Dazai can be at peace.
"Don't."
Atsushi turns to him. He feels far away, out of reach, miles and miles away. There's an itch on his tongue, a sudden craving for something strong. Any drink will do to get him out of here.
Dazai stares at the small crowd dancing around Taka, "He doesn't deserve it."
Ironically enough, in a place filled to the brim with vibrant chatter and catchy tunes, it goes silent. Nothing rings and nothing is heard. The people fade away and suddenly he's in his own void beside the one person he knows he can't have.
"Then if not for him then for me," it echoes and reverberates in his mind. It bounces around as if to really stamp itself on his brain to make sure he'll never forget. Who is he kidding? This is Atsushi, one of the most righteous, kindest, and sweetest people the universe has blessed him to appear in his life.
Dazai's eyes widen slightly as he turns around to see Atsushi. He's the only one that exists. The perfect person in his imperfect world.
"Don't you think closure is a nice thing?"
Who was the first person to capture his protégé's big heart? What kind of man did he settle for before Taka? It hurts that it eats away his curiosity thinking about this guy that snatched his heart to safely return it back to him.
He opens his mouth, about to answer, until Taka jogs up to the detective duo looking absolutely exhausted with how she stumbles. "Honey, it's your favorite song! Wanna come dance!?" A quiet ember flares beneath his chest. The privilege she doesn't know she has to openly call him such a thing.
Atsushi brightens nodding about to leave him behind towards his future. Tears stream out of his heart and the back of his eyes ache. This really does hurt. He stifles a pained chuckle wanting nothing more than to soothe his throbbing eyes.
But someone else's does the job for him. He looks up, a gloved hand rests in the air before him in a wordless invitation. His open palm inviting and the gaps between his fingers itching to be intertwined in another. Brown eyes trail to the other and his heart sinks a little. Like a piece to a puzzle, two whited gloved hands weaved together in a perfect show of their compatibility.
But that lonesome hand offered for him. It's so inviting. Dazai will never be the true holder of his hand nor to his name, but he can at least stick around in his life as his friend. Not as a mentor but as a friend because maybe then it can be as personal as a wife.
He gently smiles and takes his hand as they tread him onto the dance floor.