nullificates

To you or to me? It matters greatly to me!

(after all, it's part of fyodor, it's something to understand. how is someone so intelligent, so dangerously intellectual, so wonderfully like himself...

so like this?)

To either. [ crime and punishment are good friends, of course; subjected to dazai's inescapable nullification, fyodor thinks that to be as intolerable as the absolute judgment of his own ability. ]

The sun is unusually bright, it's a nice day. Take a nap, Dazai. It's a better way to spend your time than asking me questions.

I have no rest for my head, Fyfy.

(it absolutely is a fun way of asking for pets, but alas, dazai knows it would be impossible to sleep with all this clarity on his eyelids.)

[ fyodor considers suggesting they find a pair of bricks to sandwich dazai's head in between. you know, for extra comfort. but instead he gestures towards his lap having picked up the meaning of what dazai is asking for.

it's a small concession, perhaps, even a polite gesture in return for refusing dazai his answers. ]

(both probably know dazai won't sleep, but it's still nice to have that space provided, either way. his head rests against thighs, and he stretches a little, much like a needy cat, before a snort leaves him.)

A secret, Fyfy? I can't sleep with any light on at all.

[ dazai is immune to crime and punishment; that still doesn't take away the hesitation of his hand, the brief pause that betrays years of honed instinct to avoid touching in case--just in case, before it sets on curly brown hair. ] Oh? [ there is a considering hum. ] I suppose for someone who craves death as you do only the darkest embrace will do. No light means you can almost pretend it is not sleep but a crypt where you're being laid out for a final rest.

Don't you know me so well, Fy? You should get out of my mind sometimes?

(a quirky way to tell him he's right, but also, a hidden message that fyodor has a space there that he can't remove, can't nullify it himself.)

Perhaps that could be arranged by removing a part of your brain. [ not that fyodor will try; too much work, too much probability of simply ruining a good chess partner with no pay off. ]

You could ask Nikolai to use the overcoat to remove your eyeballs. It'd be cleaner than cutting them out and then you'd be in permanent darkness. [ rhythmic carding of fingers through dazai's hair. fyodor looks up at the blue stretch of sky; it's quiet, this place is too quiet, too abstractly benign to be trusted. ]

How would that work? Overcoat can't touch me, you know.

(a very confusing ordeal, isn't it? either way, he doesn't truly want that. his eyes are precious, they allow him to look up to fyodor's face, observing the observer with a gentle smile on his lips. it's genuine, although small.)

How could I watch you then? I'm not interested!

I suppose [ fyodor is reminded that dazai hasn't been there yet, when the overcoat very much did affect the space around dazai. a trick, but worth considering on several levels; there is also that one truth about dazai's ability: a single split second in which his condition allows abilities to function on him.

still, fyodor is reluctant to bring dazai so close to that edge simply for an experiment in this place. at home it'd be a different situation.

perhaps later. ]

How very voyeuristic of you.

[ the hand on dazai's hair moves, palm now covering his eyes ]

In this world or any others, you do know there is only one end to this, yes?

Ah, naturally? I want this, so there's only one way it could end. With it ending, of course? Makes me not want to want it.

(whatever 'this' and 'it' could mean, that's up to fyodor to understand and to fill the gaps. it's how dazai's always operated, after all. if it's someone, or something he could ever want, it'd be lost immediately once he achieved it, either by nature or, unknown to himself, sabotage.

either way, even as he says he doesn't want it, his hand covers the one on top of his eyes, caressing, trusting the other isn't bringing a knife to his heart - or hoping it is.)

[ he does not quite understand: there is a vague guess lacking empirical proof and practical experience. fyodor says nothing for a minute or two.

instead his free hand, thumb and forefinger press together and draw an invisible line over dazai's throat as if they held a scalpel. a swift, merciful death. but despite the fact there is a knife on his person, fyodor has agreed to a truce and will abide.

he knows things end but his religious leanings also make him believe in those things that have no end. that stretch out infinitely and embrace; eternity. ]

Then don't want it.

[ as easy as that to someone of fyodor's mind. ]

Are you asking for my sake or for yours?

(his head tilts back, as if he was offering more space for this mercy killing. it'd be ironic if it were a scapel to the throat that took him out, much like a certain someone whose death weighs on his shoulders, his mind ever so often returning to the blood splatter on the wall and the look on mori's face.)

Yours.

[ because if dazai doesn't want it then fyodor has no reason to consider it.

he drops the would-be knife wielding hand back onto the grass. ] Go court the Godling you pine after, chase all those pretty faces, if you must- challenge Nikolai to see how far you go.

You can't possibly think there's any pining, or anything other than mutual disgust. Are you that inexperienced?

(a question, fishing for a thousand answers hidden in each corner. it's a contradiction, he says he doesn't want it, but the hand that leaves him is held against his own.)

I know enough to know no one else will ever hold your emotions like that. You call it disgust but...

[ fyodor would never share had he a bond like that with someone. though he finds it curious how the thought briefly caused his heartbeat to increase with a pinch of discomfort.

a bond like that which is denied to someone of his nature, intellect and ability. ]

I have observed Double Black for a long time. [ have a secret in return for the confession of why sleep eludes dazai ]

And you call me a voyeur?

(rat in his rat cave with his rat monitors glowing, blinding a rat's eye. he can't help but to hold the hand a little closer to his heart, allowing it to feel its natural rhythm against fingertips.)

It's truly not that interesting. You might realize now why am I slightly deaf, though.

(he's not, but not for lack of chuuya's killing his eardrums.)

[ fyodor's fingers twitch, held over that heartbeat--he hates it, his hand stays. he will not allow what dazai wants. he cannot. ] Power like Chuuya-san's is interesting to me. [ yokohama's history of power house ability users that could shift the scales, truly of interest but...unimportant when weighed against the book. ]

I call you a lot of things I would also call myself.

Should it be, when you despise them?

(as a tool, it should be fine, he knows this. it's simply a fun back and forth, like they'd do during the late nights of that stupid prison.)

Handsome?

Think of it as the same category-defying disgust you feel towards your old partner. I despise it but it interests me too, it's a tool to achieve an aim.

[ he withdraws his hand from dazai's grip, leaving behind the steady beat of dazai's heartbeat. ] Certainly not that. Not for me at any case.

But you've fished well for your compliment so have it: yes, you are handsome.

I suppose this place must be killing you alive? So many ability users, none like us, and yet? Would that means you'll work harder to take us home, or would you eventually accept, in case we are not able to?

(they don't know what will happen in the end of this. there's no idea, no real promise, aside from their awful intellect enthralled into a solution.)

I think you are beautiful, but alas, if you want to go with handsome...! We can do that!

On the contrary, take Lovecraft for example. What he is, isn't a sin in my eyes. The same for those here who hold supernatural abilities, those follow the rules of their own worlds, and are the problem of those who inhabit the same. [ a pause ] I try not to get upset at things that are clearly beyond my control, Dazai-kun.

[ the pause at the compliment is longer than the previous one. the metaphorical gears turning in fyodor's head as to what dazai really means, and really wants, and is trying to do here. ]

Is that so? But you turned down the offer to fuck. Perhaps I'm not quite as handsome as your actual type.

What he is isn't nice either, you do realize?

(poor fyodor, his brain will turn to dust.)

I didn't turn you down because of that. I did it because I want it to be something you would like, Fyfy! Something for you, not for me?

Why should he be? He's not human, the laws of morality do not really apply to him. Let us be glad he's gone back to sleep.

[ those words don't really do much to help fyodor make sense of the situation but very well. for himself? fyodor isn't particularly selfish and yet...]

I wouldn't like sharing something that is mine.

And yet, you want Chuuya awake, so you do understand he's human, don't you? Completely, disgustingly, annoyingly human.

(the fact that this is something that he wishes fyodor to understand is awfully telling. dazai straightens his back, to sit perhaps too close to fyodor.)

Which means?

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tw; eye gore talk, violence

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