[ someone entirely for himself. perhaps an impossibility but also something that fyodor isn't actively looking for, it isn't as important as the grand plan. the book. the bringing about of a better world.
but he is content to let the topic drop. ultimately, it isn't important. ]
... I don't think you do, if you think our issues are so easy to fix with a quick fuck. I like you, you know. You want to run away from intimacy, but that's not possible to have that sort of interaction when one of us is smitten.
(he's confessing, but it's for a reason. it's so fyodor thinks, considers the weight of what he proposed to a smitten man. it's the lack of experience that makes fyodor not notice, not understand what he is doing.
You are not smitten with me. And I am not smitten with you. [ this is flatly offered, and it isn't that he's stung about being rejected. if anything, it would be meaningless and pointless to sleep with someone you can't own, who isn't yours. dazai pointing out that fyodor flees from intimacy isn't wrong but that is because he cannot abide one that isn't equal to his own in measure.
he deals with absolutes, yes this is perhaps why dazai was ultimately able to beat him(and fyodor does know, somewhere deep down, that there is something rigged in this game for him to lose).
from someone utterly selfless as fyodor is about, well, everything else, this seems to be something he can't help but be selfish about. ]
And you bring that forward with what evidence, dear Rat?
(because surely fyodor can see how dazai looks at him, can't he? the look of someone who's endeared to playing with fire, the look he's giving fyodor right now. one of enamoured passion, and yet, calming, genuine. he has to wonder if fyodor can tell the differences in nuances in his smile, the emptiness and the real.)
It's a ludicrous thought, we're trying to win a game. We're trying to kill each other.[ is that not antithetical to any and all expressions of genuine affection? fyodor would entertain a misguided crush before anything with the word 'smitten' involved.
and yet, he himself is the one who commented on the sadness of losing a chess partner. and despite that the smiles dazai offers all cut with the same sharpness, real or not. ]
Since when has that been out of anything other than strategy?
(contrasting sides, a rather sad turn of events. he remembers how long he's known fyodor, most likely longer than one would expect, and he sighs a little. there probably has been a time where their knives weren't pointed at each other.)
Would you happily put a love one through such suffering then? [ it isn't really an important question in the grand scheme of things, if anything, it is a little weak, a little too obvious in its intention to deter or derail the conversation. ]
You've never expressed those sentiments before. I assumed otherwise. [ fyodor shakes his head. ] If I'm dead I can't get the book, therefore I cannot allow myself to die. [ not to consider it with the same appreciation dazai does. if fyodor had died, if he died here, now, a lot of others would be spared. ]
Do you truly need my words to know something to be true? I enjoy challenging you, murdering you is solely a consequence to winning a life-or-death game, isn't it?
(he will... die? by dazai's hand, no less? he takes a moment to look at it and sigh. a hand that shouldn't kill, but will, if needed. he's not half the man he wants to be, is he?)
Unlike most beings on this earth, I cannot read you entirely, Dazai-kun. Some things I know, not everything. [ fyodor considers. ] I would like to die in clean flesh, if possible. Though I assume you have no preference?
After I complete my mission, of course. I will agree to a double suicide with you.
[ as if it were that simple. fyodor will never give up the book, not for anything less than what he wants and what he wants-he frowns, scanning dazai's face, searching for a trick or a lie or any other tell. ]
You mean to say that, in the case I lose, we should still kill ourselves together? Isn't that a little bit of a premature death for a member of the triumphant, righteous agency?
I am not afraid I won't return, I simply don't hold on to absolutes. If there's a way to return, it's you and me together who can figure it out, no other way possible.
I simply don't have blind faith, like a religious person.
Absolutes are inescapable things, [ fyodor considers; he believes in them. he follows them, out of religious or personal belief. perhaps it is because his ability is this. but another point of divergence isn't necessarily bad between himself and dazai.
still. you and me together who can figure it out--that's new, he's played against dazai but to play with him--to have someone who needs no further elaboration to understand. that makes a delightful warmth curl in his chest.]
Only if you believe so. I walk a very grey line, wouldn't you think?
(a man whose heart bleeds in black, drips darkness with each and every step, but whose feet lead him to the light. no absolutes here. he is what he is, a recovering criminal, whose fingers would pull a trigger if needed, even against fyodor's chest.
either way, he wholeheartedly believes that if there is a way, it's only dazai and fyodor who could find it - not separate, but together, a unit, and he meant it when he said it. his hand gently tucks a strand of hair away from the man's face, only so he can see him better.)
[ he does not startle at the touch, instead chewing harder on his index finger, as he thinks. not so much about grey morality and whatnot, but how to get out of here and return.
after a minute, fyodor replies:] It also implies uncertainty. Doubt. Makes the margin of error wider.
(he doesn't think he's making fyodor nervous, nor is it his desire to do so. he's always been eating his fingers like that, so, he barely thinks it's connected.
he allows for the silence, eyes never leaving the other, watching his thoughtful expression as he laughs.)
Yes! That's, unfortunately, part of life. Or was Gogol taking us, as you say he did, predictable?
Surprising but not entirely unpredictable. I did not write his death onto the page after all. I allowed him to have that freedom for himself: life or death, and he chose--well, he chose to become something else. Not an ally, not a participant but a spectator to the game.
[ he turns back the weight of his gaze on dazai. ] But when you leave this place, then Meursault and go back to your simple detective life, will that make you less likely to crave for death? To be good? Are you not tired of going against your nature?
(he listens for a while, leaves that question in the air so that fyodor can attempt to find the answer by himself. there's no way of hiding who he is when it comes from the people from his own home. youngest boss in mafia history, his sole name makes people tremble and freeze, and yet? here he is.)
is it? fyodor searches for the lie in those liquid brown eyes; none that he can spot. he should be the demon prodigy and yet, yet. if truth be told, dazai's mental wellbeing is probably harmed by fyodor's violence. ]
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[ someone entirely for himself. perhaps an impossibility but also something that fyodor isn't actively looking for, it isn't as important as the grand plan. the book. the bringing about of a better world.
but he is content to let the topic drop. ultimately, it isn't important. ]
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(he's confessing, but it's for a reason. it's so fyodor thinks, considers the weight of what he proposed to a smitten man. it's the lack of experience that makes fyodor not notice, not understand what he is doing.
so intelligent, but so naive.)
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he deals with absolutes, yes this is perhaps why dazai was ultimately able to beat him(and fyodor does know, somewhere deep down, that there is something rigged in this game for him to lose).
from someone utterly selfless as fyodor is about, well, everything else, this seems to be something he can't help but be selfish about. ]
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(because surely fyodor can see how dazai looks at him, can't he? the look of someone who's endeared to playing with fire, the look he's giving fyodor right now. one of enamoured passion, and yet, calming, genuine. he has to wonder if fyodor can tell the differences in nuances in his smile, the emptiness and the real.)
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and yet, he himself is the one who commented on the sadness of losing a chess partner. and despite that the smiles dazai offers all cut with the same sharpness, real or not. ]
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(contrasting sides, a rather sad turn of events. he remembers how long he's known fyodor, most likely longer than one would expect, and he sighs a little. there probably has been a time where their knives weren't pointed at each other.)
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(is it truly suffering if one yearns for it? it'd be the most romantic thing fyodor could ever provide him.)
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You'll have to, in th end. Or I will.
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(he will... die? by dazai's hand, no less? he takes a moment to look at it and sigh. a hand that shouldn't kill, but will, if needed. he's not half the man he wants to be, is he?)
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cw suicide
cw suicide
[ as if it were that simple. fyodor will never give up the book, not for anything less than what he wants and what he wants-he frowns, scanning dazai's face, searching for a trick or a lie or any other tell. ]
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(they don't know, after all. perhaps when they're old, their bones frail and their skin flaccid. perhaps then.)
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Are you afraid you will not return?
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I simply don't have blind faith, like a religious person.
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still. you and me together who can figure it out--that's new, he's played against dazai but to play with him--to have someone who needs no further elaboration to understand. that makes a delightful warmth curl in his chest.]
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(a man whose heart bleeds in black, drips darkness with each and every step, but whose feet lead him to the light. no absolutes here. he is what he is, a recovering criminal, whose fingers would pull a trigger if needed, even against fyodor's chest.
either way, he wholeheartedly believes that if there is a way, it's only dazai and fyodor who could find it - not separate, but together, a unit, and he meant it when he said it. his hand gently tucks a strand of hair away from the man's face, only so he can see him better.)
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after a minute, fyodor replies:] It also implies uncertainty. Doubt. Makes the margin of error wider.
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he allows for the silence, eyes never leaving the other, watching his thoughtful expression as he laughs.)
Yes! That's, unfortunately, part of life. Or was Gogol taking us, as you say he did, predictable?
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[ he turns back the weight of his gaze on dazai. ] But when you leave this place, then Meursault and go back to your simple detective life, will that make you less likely to crave for death? To be good? Are you not tired of going against your nature?
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It's worth it, Fyodor.
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is it? fyodor searches for the lie in those liquid brown eyes; none that he can spot. he should be the demon prodigy and yet, yet. if truth be told, dazai's mental wellbeing is probably harmed by fyodor's violence. ]
I can see you believe that.
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...i am so sorry
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