[ fyodor clicks his tongue, rolls his eyes, but he doesn't look that annoyed. ] Passable, why do you even care for having a name as a gift? I thought you'd want some insider information about my plans or such. [ something fyodor wouldn't have given and would've left dazai there with his cupcake but... ]
You are correct, anyone who did is no longer among the living, is that why you want it so badly? [ his sharp smile; the way his fingers twitch and want to press down on dazai's legs, on those mending bones to watch him squirm. ]
Answers are malleable, as are your moods. What doesn't satisfy you today might tomorrow.
Perhaps I simply want closeness, is that too bad of a thing to ask of a man who had kissed my forehead and disappeared? Ah, something that did not satisfy me months ago, nor does it now.
(fyodor might have the physical power in this exchange, but dazai has knowledge, has words that sting and stab, even if they sound innocent and well-meaning.)
[ an annoyed twitch of his eye before his expression flattens, glass-like. ]
And what would satisfy you, Dazai? Me laying here open for your perusal? I have trouble imagining myself kissing you in such a manner, as if you were holy and I were asking for your blessing.
[ there is something in the way dazai says those words; the way he looks—it's not how fyodor remembers at meursault when he had placed his chin on his palm and stared at dazai, really looked.
even if those feelings are sitting at the back of fyodor's throat, they don't have sound nor words nor understanding. ] I suppose I should thank you for not letting me do that. After all, as it is written, “The two will become one flesh.”
[ even if fyodor, who does not hold marriage to be the one and only way to be in a relationship, were prone to intimacy, there is something daunting about it, because of that phrase, because of what he is, because of what he does. ]
Do you truly believe so? Is that truly how you see those things?
(the taste of old sayings, the taste of expectations, and the taste of the holy. perhaps dazai won't ever feel it against his tongue in a way that does satisfy him, but right now, he can be complacent and appeased by the brain and thoughts that don't bring in flesh.
it is exactly what he likes about fyodor the most, anyway. that mind, the way it works, so similar, yet so different from his own.)
[ his look is sharp, not annoyed but there is something there. something he can't quite grasp that strangles his tongue. fyodor swallows. ] I can kill by mere touch, Dazai. Why wouldn't I believe this to be so?
Physical intimacy is a union of the higher self, I would not say two sides of a whole exactly but certainly...devotion. [ sanctuary. quiet. peace. ]
(whose skin can't be broken by a sole touch, who can't even feel the wrath of punishment when he touches fyodor. doesn't that relieve him, at least a little? there's an offering of his hand. if fyodor would like to feel 'no longer human's embrace, this is the opportunity to do so.)
[ the crime of his existence is rewarded by the existence of punishment.
fyodor doesn't loathe his ability, he simply thinks it is cruel. he is— pauses, looks at the offered hand. ] You can survive my ability by virtue of your own, is that fate? Or temptation to go astray?
[ fyodor drops his hand onto dazai's but crime and punishment remains dormant rather than suppressed by no longer human. ]
Those are the things your brain wonders about. Mine has stopped attempting to find any reason for the way things are.
(it can't, with everything he has went through, to give it up that easy as a prophecy. they've spoken about this before - 'He is only good at accidentals and irrationality', and here they are. this is irrational, and yet, his hand gently holds the other.)
[ fyodor looks down at their hands, considering. Dazai, I really don't understand you right now. and that's frustrating for someone who is so attuned with dazai the rest of the time, he shifts, to hold dazai's face between both palms. he could twist hard and try to break his neck or try to wrap his fingers around his neck. he could shove and shove until the nearest window becomes a door. ] If I elected to pursue physical intimacy, I would not want it to be meaningless.
Incorrect, Fyodor. I want to hear whatever it is that you want to tell me.
(that's the bottom line. it's not meaningless, not to him, not to fyodor, it's scary, it's something that makes dazai both want to break open and see, and run and burn. the hands gently caress.)
You remember a me that isn't in existence right now. I can guess, and I can assume but I am not that me. It's clear to me we had some sort of agreement here, beside the one we made with everyone else, yes?
[ so close to the answer and yet so far. ]
We clearly don't view intimacy in the same manner or else you wouldn't-[ fyodor frowns with distant distaste, with jealous, he drops the hold on dazai's face as if it burns. ]
(he doesn't have to complete it, the action and the subject at hand do it for fyodor instead. where does he even begin to explain this is a mystery, whether he should try is a bigger one.)
It's because intimacy doesn't come from that. It can exist without it, as it can exist without intimacy.
[ he grimaces at the word but it is true enough. ] I do not disagree, intimacy is not necessarily between partners but also between friends and family, and sometimes even passing strangers who have a single moment in which their souls touch. [ but not fyodor, he's not someone who has experienced intimacy. not in the way people do.
perhaps the closest is gogol if he cared to analyze his relationship there.
then, slowly it clicks: ] Are you implying we have intimacy between us?
[ fyodor is quiet, dropping to sit next to dazai at that question, those words. he turns them over carefully, purple eyes darting to dazai: his eyes, the curve of his lips, the collarbone hidden between bandages; he aches, he aches, he aches—
his resistance is of a different sort: he will not let go, he will want and want and want and not share because fyodor is selfless in most aspects but to be given something for himself? oh, he does not know such things. ]
I was...content. You hated the cold.
[ fyodor is a very quiet person when he's not trying to destroy the world. ]
(he wasn't ever expecting fyodor to come to his bed, even as an innocent act of closeness. part of him wonders if his resistance will come in the shape of a knife on his chest, his gift a fun foreshadowing of the act.
nothing happens, and his thumb gently caresses the hand in his. how he wanted to do this all these months, separated by abyss and glass.)
Naturally. That place was unfairly cold, I don't understand how your body endured it better than mine.
[ violet eyes flick down towards that touch, then back up at dazai. ] You needed to hide in the most remote place, that's where I took you. The conditions are impossible for most, and even if someone had tried to come after you there it would have been obvious and easy to deal with. Plenty of places to hide bodies out there.
[ he does not mention his body. the way the chill made it hard to breathe, how fyodor caught a debilitating cold that had him curled up in a heap of blankets against the radiator. ]
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[ he resists the urge to pace because why is dazai so...dazai. he was never like this in prison, or had he been and fyodor just missed the flirting? ]
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(NO, HE DIDN'T.)
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If what you want is my name then pronounce it properly and you may have it.
[ it's just a name, right? ]
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Mikhailovich.
(perfect.)
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(passable? bitch, it had been perfect?
eithey way, he snorts a little, the calmness in his smile a quiet reminder that there's honesty from his tongue at times.)
Why? I won't remember. Isn't it much more fun to play around here than to simply get answers that won't satisfy me?
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Answers are malleable, as are your moods. What doesn't satisfy you today might tomorrow.
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(fyodor might have the physical power in this exchange, but dazai has knowledge, has words that sting and stab, even if they sound innocent and well-meaning.)
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And what would satisfy you, Dazai? Me laying here open for your perusal? I have trouble imagining myself kissing you in such a manner, as if you were holy and I were asking for your blessing.
[ for you. ]
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(fyodor was starting to see it, and perhaps, this is a step forward to open his eyes for a second time.
he has feelings. feelings that he can't fully understand - but he won't take a half-hearted experience for it.
he's not holy. the devotion is the other way around.)
tw; bible talk
even if those feelings are sitting at the back of fyodor's throat, they don't have sound nor words nor understanding. ] I suppose I should thank you for not letting me do that. After all, as it is written, “The two will become one flesh.”
[ even if fyodor, who does not hold marriage to be the one and only way to be in a relationship, were prone to intimacy, there is something daunting about it, because of that phrase, because of what he is, because of what he does. ]
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(the taste of old sayings, the taste of expectations, and the taste of the holy. perhaps dazai won't ever feel it against his tongue in a way that does satisfy him, but right now, he can be complacent and appeased by the brain and thoughts that don't bring in flesh.
it is exactly what he likes about fyodor the most, anyway. that mind, the way it works, so similar, yet so different from his own.)
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Physical intimacy is a union of the higher self, I would not say two sides of a whole exactly but certainly...devotion. [ sanctuary. quiet. peace. ]
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(whose skin can't be broken by a sole touch, who can't even feel the wrath of punishment when he touches fyodor. doesn't that relieve him, at least a little? there's an offering of his hand. if fyodor would like to feel 'no longer human's embrace, this is the opportunity to do so.)
It can be, with intent.
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fyodor doesn't loathe his ability, he simply thinks it is cruel. he is— pauses, looks at the offered hand. ] You can survive my ability by virtue of your own, is that fate? Or temptation to go astray?
[ fyodor drops his hand onto dazai's but crime and punishment remains dormant rather than suppressed by no longer human. ]
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(it can't, with everything he has went through, to give it up that easy as a prophecy. they've spoken about this before - 'He is only good at accidentals and irrationality', and here they are. this is irrational, and yet, his hand gently holds the other.)
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Is that what you want to hear from me?
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(that's the bottom line. it's not meaningless, not to him, not to fyodor, it's scary, it's something that makes dazai both want to break open and see, and run and burn. the hands gently caress.)
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[ so close to the answer and yet so far. ]
We clearly don't view intimacy in the same manner or else you wouldn't-[ fyodor frowns with distant distaste, with jealous, he drops the hold on dazai's face as if it burns. ]
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(he doesn't have to complete it, the action and the subject at hand do it for fyodor instead. where does he even begin to explain this is a mystery, whether he should try is a bigger one.)
It's because intimacy doesn't come from that. It can exist without it, as it can exist without intimacy.
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perhaps the closest is gogol if he cared to analyze his relationship there.
then, slowly it clicks: ] Are you implying we have intimacy between us?
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(dazai's resistant in his own way, not with intimacy, but with the idea that things may last, they may not end, and he lingers in his fear and panic.)
Don't you miss it when we were 19?
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his resistance is of a different sort: he will not let go, he will want and want and want and not share because fyodor is selfless in most aspects but to be given something for himself? oh, he does not know such things. ]
I was...content. You hated the cold.
[ fyodor is a very quiet person when he's not trying to destroy the world. ]
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nothing happens, and his thumb gently caresses the hand in his. how he wanted to do this all these months, separated by abyss and glass.)
Naturally. That place was unfairly cold, I don't understand how your body endured it better than mine.
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[ he does not mention his body. the way the chill made it hard to breathe, how fyodor caught a debilitating cold that had him curled up in a heap of blankets against the radiator. ]
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