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Autumn speckles the night sky, tinged by the smoke of scattered clouds. It’s a stratus that mimics the twirl of cigarette ash clasped tight between two fingers, Chuuya drawing the stick to his lips with a smooth inhale.
With an exhale that pushes grey between cracking lips, the skin dry from the season, and the breeze of crisp air that rolls the leaves around them. That runs with the laughter of children and shiver of barren branches, swinging between the hollow limbs of dead trees to jump onto the cobblestone, rustling the arid grass that lines the walkway.
And from this close, the light of the brick building floods across the pavement, trickling down the flight of stairs to pool on the cobblestone, hazy and glowing. The fog warms the nip of wind on the executive’s back when the air begins to bite, running its fingers through strawberry curls and kissing each reddening freckle splashed across flushed cheeks.
Chuuya draws another drag from the dwindling cigarette between his fingers, the flame of the cherry blending into autumnal nights. Into a canvas of slow death, beautiful and haunting, and the scarlet its corpse leaves behind. The bloom of spider lilies and persimmon orange, and the warmth that swirls in the back of his throat as he leisurely inhales, shoulders rising with the steady breath before he's shutting his eyes from the night.
From the caramelized fragrance of chestnuts and sweet potatoes drifting from the brick building ablaze in golden light; the chatter of children intensifying with every clicking step of dress shoes over uneven stone. Withdrawing the stick from his mouth, Chuuya exhales the smoke through his nose, a bull's choler ghosting his lips before he's flicking the cigarette to the ground, haphazardly extinguishing the flame with a crunch of the heel as they approach the oasis of light.
Silk over leather
little hands in his
And the forceful tug of a child too strong, Chuuya's attention flickering to the hand clasped around his own, his fingers intertwining with the satin of cream opera gloves before he's glancing downward at the source. "What?" The executive questions, voice ragged from the smoke still coating his tongue, earth and sweet cream brushing the roof of his mouth when he speaks. "You gotta hold my hand, Elise, if anything happens to you I'm fucked." Chuuya pauses, tugging their clasped hands in demonstration as they ascend the staircase. The chatter of families echoes off the brick, surrounding their small group when they take the final step, joining the other parents outside the schoolhouse.
Kerria curls splash over puffed-up cheeks, Elise yanking their hands though it's no use, Chuuya barely wavering when Elise throws her body backward, hanging from the executive's hand with the entirety of her weight. "This is taking too long!" Her complaints pierce the moon as she flicks her head back, sunshine hair absorbing the light of the school, gifting each curl a subtle glow. It wraps across her temple a shattered halo, misplaced but refusing to be removed, rather sinking into the false jewels of the princess crown plopped onto her head, the girl tugging again when Chuuya's attention begins to drift.
The executive digs within the pocket of his jeans, the black denim merging with the surrounding hour, lost in the shadows of night as he shoves another gloved fist into his back pocket, fingers swishing through the fabric to no avail. Before cherry brows can flatten, Chuuya's chin is whipping upward, head twisting to finally greet the man at their side, the executive still digging through his pockets while Elise squirms at his side.
"Oi! Dazai!"
Autumnal curls ruffle in the next breeze, the only movement to fall from rigid limbs. From rigid branches and the fog of the season, the mist of overworked minds, Dazai blankly staring into the streets by their side.
Chuuya doesn't linger on it.
"You got the tickets? I can't find them," the redhead lifts his hand from his thigh, stretching his pocket in demonstration. Yet the other never disconnects his gaze, Dazai still dreamily watching the dance of the trees in the distance.
How the leaves rustle alongside his coat and the crunch of leaves kisses the tattered hem of tan fabric. Dazai digs his fingers into the pockets of his coat before withdrawing them, three tickets tucked between his fore and middle fingers. Lifting his hand, he displays the tickets as if it were the winning spread, chestnut eyes dully scanning the brick ahead of them. He doesn't notice when Chuuya leans forward to grab the strips of paper, sliding them through the detective's weakening grip.
Pocketing the tickets, Chuuya takes a step back, his heel clicking on the pavement though it lacks the piquant chime of the cobblestone. Now the sound is hollow, the whistle of mourning ghosts, of corpses half buried, begging to be released from the earth.
"'Samu..." the name is lifted by the breeze, twirling with the scrape of dried leaves until the syllables are lost to the abyss. To the void that surrounds their illuminated island safe from the night, from the demons that prance across the cobblestone, humming a siren's song to the rhythmic click of the stone. To the soprano of the wind and tenor of trees that draws vulnerable minds to the edge, Dazai taking a step forward, a step away, and Chuuya is closing the growing distance between them, the redhead placing himself between Dazai and the dark.
"'Samu," he repeats the name, the baton that finishes the choir, and the call of that void is no longer so sweet when faced with cherry words. Cherry lips and scarlet hair that dips to conceal the two in the shadow of his hat, sapphire gleaming when it graces bourbon stares. "You okay?" there's worry in those words... "You didn't have to come..." Chuuya mutters beneath his breath, the syllables sliding on the last air of smoke to leave him. "I could - I can," he corrects with a misplaced cough, ignoring the way speckled cheeks are lit aflame with unconscious confessions.
With the need to rescue a partner he doesn't have, a friend if they ever were the phrase, that he's already lost. That has been cast alongside the spirits in their midst, dragged to the river, to the port's depths, and for once Chuuya is unable to dive within, pulling broken bodies to shore. "I can do this myself," he offhandedly offers as he turns his cheek to the other man, unable to face the expression he never knows will greet him. If it'll be the porcelain mask he's come to know, to begrudgingly accept in the dim wrought-iron of alleyways, in the paint-chipped metal of shipping containers, and marble of mafia halls.
Or if it'll be the glimmer of mahogany gazes, a single spark of light within those irises, and yet it's there. The hue brought on by the tan of coats, the cream of clean bandages, and the shimmer of a smile that may now be true.
Turning on his heel, Dazai's coat brushes against the denim of Chuuya's jeans, the material clashing as the detective rocks back on his heels. A trickster's grin is plastered to fanged teeth when he smiles, exaggerating the way his chin must tilt to greet the executive. "Chuuya," Dazai cries, mouth gruesomely twisting, contouring his features into theater masks that crave the light of the stage, the glimmer of undivided attention. "I had to come," the detective rocks forward before eventually settling on his heels, his hands still securely tucked in his pockets. "When else will I be surrounded by beautiful, gorgeous, wealthy women such as this?" Dazai quizzes, head curiously cocking as he throws out his question. His voice lilts with every adjective called, an eccentric to his soul and a jokester to his core, Dazai gifting another grin as he awaits Chuuya's response.
It never comes
and that damn mask glimmers in the moonlight
With Elise still impatiently bouncing in his grasp, Chuuya ignores the detective in favor of the door, handing the tickets to an attendant before stepping inside. Eyeing the event with an air of curiosity, his hand clutches around the younger girl's when she teeters to slip on her uwabaki.
Dried fruit artfully drapes from the ceiling in low arches, the fishline dipping to create a 'U' before connecting to the next ceiling panel, continuing its pattern across the lobby. Deep golds and russet alternate in the form of citrus and permission, a sprig of greenery punctuating the pattern for colour, tying together the hues of fruit. Tables line the oversized lobby, draped in burgundy cloths and adorned with a single terra cotta pot, a bouquet of autumn roses peeping from the clay, their petals draping themselves over the protruding lip. A few teachers man the tables, passing out papers and glossy pamphlets to the parents while greeting the children, complementing the costume choices of their students.
"Mo-" Chuuya pauses, cutting the name with a clench of the jaw. "He said they serve alcohol here," it's more a question than a statement, the syllables rising at the end of his speech as the redhead nosily examines the lobby, scouring the fathers adorned in full suits to focus on the bubbling liquid in their hold. "It's a fucking primary school..." he murmurs under his tongue, barely uttered at all as his attention drifts to a group of children, princesses and knights chasing one another as their parents converse nearby, a head bowing in the distance when a business card is presented.
Bandages shuffle over cloth. "It's a networking event," Dazai corrects, body slack though the line of his shoulders betrays him, a stiffness to the muscle that can't be concealed by the draping of an oversized coat. "The tuition is more than Chibi's salary, which I hear is a lot," faux shock slithers over bitten lips, Dazai never turning though he can sense the flames emanating from hair the same shade.
From furrowing brows, Chuuya huffing as he slams his free hand into his pocket, gripping Elise's hand tighter when she begins to squirm. "I don't support charity," he spits from the side of his mouth, lip upturning with the insult, the two continuing to face forward, unsure of how to meet.
How to dissipate the ache in the heart of his being, of his very souls, as his gaze flutters over doting teachers. As it roams across smiling children and proud parents and that ache only grows, gnawing behind his navel, scraping its teeth across sinew and muscle alike, reveling in the way the veins snap. How the wound bleeds, and it's jealousy that drips alongside ichor. That leaks with the pus polluting his being, boiling in the acid of his stomach when he swallows.
Chuuya has never been inside a school
Never had a teacher to beam at his work, never had a father who matches his suit tie to his costume.
He never will
Because he'll never be gifted those years, will never be handed an apology for the life destroyed beneath a microscopic, for his life, ruined over the greed of another.
He'll never go to school
and it shouldn't hurt as much as it does...
Bourbon flows wayward, dripping down waxen features and a blue tinged by the melancholy, by the mourning, and neither knows what to say, what to do.
So they'll trip into the familiar, into the worn footsteps of puppy nips and cat scratches, and words that sting but never scar. "What a terrible little beast," Dazai tsks, mouth pouting in disappointment as he dramatically shakes his head, exhaling a held breath that's all too real. "Not even the pound the Chibi was pulled from?" The detective questions, perfected worry thick on the tongue, an actor to the very end as he pops his lips in shock, brows raising with the curated concern. "Where will the rest of the dogs sleep?!"
Chuuya scoffs, and yet it can't disguise the hint of a laugh tickling his throat. "Fuck off, will ya?" Strawberry waves brush over his shoulder as he shakes his head, blurring the smile creeping across his features.
"No," twin smiles gleam. "I won't. Can't have that big head getting any bigger, or that horrendous hat will no longer fit!" Dazai's shoulders lift with the insult, and that line of stress is dissipating with the move, vanishing in the dark of the decor, in the light of celestial smiles, and still, they never meet.
Rather, they flutter to the princess pulling on leather gloves, Elise kicking off the tile in a poor attempt at getting them to move. "Hurry up!" Juvenile whines and spoiled demands, the ability twisting in Chuuya's hold for a better grip as she begins to walk forward, failing to drag the older along with her.
Chuuya swallows a chuckle at the attempt before giving in, allowing Elise to pull him, and subsequently Dazai, down the winding hall of the primary school. "Damn, kid, calm down..." Chuuya mutters when their pace quickens, the executive refusing to admit he has to run to keep up with the pudgy legs of a five-year-old. "And stop pulling on me."
Without turning, the ability calls out, "But I want you to see my project!"
Soft soles spin around the next corner, Chuuya nearly skidding when Elise whips in the opposing direction, Dazai leisurely strolling behind the two with that evergreen air of smug nonchalance. "We're comi- woah!" The executive pivots mid-speech, yanking at their connected hands when Elise nearly slams into a crowd of suits.
Because the hall is swarmed, infested by the black coats of beetles clambering atop one another, fighting to eye a sliver of the wall. Men push against their neighbour’s shoulders, using the other's demise to lift themselves higher, necks straining to peek over the sea of overpriced cashmere and cotton. Their voices blend into a singular note tinged by curiosity, the group desperate to glance at the oddity on the wall, muttering to one another as they discuss the results with admiration.
"What the hell is this?" Chuuya scoffs, head owlishly twisting around the room, a move more redolent of the detective at his side as he teeters on the tips of his toes, joining the crowd in his attempt to view the wall, ignorant to the murmurs surrounding them.
"That's a pedigree if I've ever seen one..."
Whispered words, stares that linger a moment too long
"...I knew the mafia sent their kids here, but I never thought the yak-"
That jump across golden waves, melting in the warmth of ruby and sapphire tacked onto a princess crown.
"- What a leg up that would be..."
Jealously fizzles in the throats of men, electrifying the air in the room.
"...I heard they marry pretty young, my son's in her grade-"
Competition for the throne
"An introduction... it never hurts-"
For a life beyond the noose of silken ties and ill-fitting suits. For a power that degrades the mind, gulped from split skulls and broken bone.
From slit throats
From blood upon the walls
"- If you want your head lobbed off by a sword, be my guest... I'd rather transfer my daughter to another class-"
Petite fingers curl in the comfort of leather, the hand in hers warm from the material, from the heat irradiating from the sun itself. "That's my project..." she mumbles, mirroring the men in the hall when she lifts herself on the tips of her toes, pushing her weight into Chuuya's hand for an added boost. "You can't see it..." and puffy cheeks deflate with the realization as the ability slowly lowers her heels to the ground, unconsciously nudging closer to Chuuya's leg for solace.
Her crown drags across the redhead's legs, the points nearly ripping the denim when Elise burrows into the side of his thigh, hiding the distress beginning to bloom across her cheeks when she tucks herself into the heat of his arm.
His heart trembles with the touch.
He pretends not to notice.
Sucking in a breath, the redhead detaches the girl from his hip, cutting away the pang of guilt when she rushes back to his side. "I'll see it when you bring it home," Chuuya offers, voice flat as he balances the emotion at the back of his throat, blocking it from tainting the rationality poorly disguising his coos.
Snotty noses drag across his jeans. "But onii-"
"I'll take a picture for Da-" he never finishes, rather, he's cut off by the swing of a door at his side, the executive pulling Elise back in time as a woman exits the room, body jolting when she's greeted by the three.
"Oh!" The woman steps back, coal eyes widening before she's absorbing the scene, glancing between Elise and the crowded wall with a softened smile. "Oh, Elise-chan, your project looks to be quite popular!" Her eyes squint with the compliments too sweet, and yet they're gorged by the greedy hands of children, Elise visibly peeking with the praise, a flower to the sun, blossoming with a toothy grin.
"You did very well on your drawings for it, it deserves to be recognized," the woman continues, watching as Elise restlessly bounces and her smile grows, proud to be celebrated for her project. With Elise walked off the edge of a tantrum, the teacher shifts her attention to the two men, a curious smile leaking from the phrase when she addresses them. "And who did you bring with you tonight?"
And the pride in her achievements is nothing compared to that of her lineage, Elise nearly tripping when she rushes forward, bouncing as excitement courses her veins with nowhere to go. It merely circuits her limbs until it's sparking, ocean eyes bursting as her grin stretches impossibly further, aching cheeks glowing with the introduction. "My brother!" She shouts, gifting another sprightly bounce and smile as her chin lifts, eyeing the brunette at her side with everlasting joy.
With a casual lift of the shoulders, Dazai shrugs at the overzealous label, a gentle smile his only response as Elise continues to grin up at him, her skirt flowing as she twists from side to side.
"Elise-chan!"
Chuuya is the first to turn with the call, a mother and her son waving with a cordiality all too forced. Before the duo can take their first steps toward the three, Chuuya is squatting, lifting Elise onto his hip with a slight bounce before walking back the way they came, avoiding the project and the ravenous eyes which surround it.
•••
The night settles slow, counted in the rhythmic thump of heels on wood and the chatter that has faded to nothing more than white noise. An endless sea in the background, rushing as the ocean roars, and yet it laps softly at the shore, quiet and demure, unable to breach their corner of the school.
Tucked away on a bench far from the crowd, Elise's legs continue to swing, the blonde unwrapping another candy. By now, her lap is littered with colourful paper and chewed lollipop sticks, the gummy papers glueing themselves to the tulle of her princess dress.
"Hey," tenor strums, floating amidst the drum of soft soles when Chuuya speaks. Sinking into the bench, Chuuya tucks his hands in his pockets, allowing his head to fall against the wall, fire cascading down his shoulder when his hair sprawls from the change of position.
And at his side, Dazai mirrors his posture, the detective slouching ever further and yet still maintaining his height over the other, Chuuya gnawing on his bottom lip to cease the grumble begging to bubble up with the thought.
"Hey," meek responses, a voice not entirely there. Because it's floating in the unknown, scurrying with the wind amongst the branches, anywhere but here.
But at the chime of a clock, the disguises are dropped. Under the watch of the midnight hour, beneath the protection of the blinded moon, the baleful chasm of four years does not exist. The passage of time, the flames of a dying car, of a murdered connection, and the final lick from the bottle, do not exist in the quiet of Halloween nights.
In the subtle waver of dried fruits overhead and the mellow fragrance of sugared spices seeping into the hall. For in the wake of a child by their side, they are nothing but children themselves. Are nothing more than two kids at fifteen, and the feelings that year planted in twin souls, twin hearts, unaware that the seeds aren't barren, but that magnolia is beautifully slow to bloom.
Strawberry hair shifts with the roll of a neck, Chuuya inhaling as he wiggles lower on the bench. "Are you okay?" He whispers, and for what feels like the first time this night, his head is turning, meeting Dazai face-on, unafraid of what may greet him.
Because bourbon melts to brown sugar beneath the heat of that stare, Dazai relaxing under Chuuya's gaze, all too aware of the protection written in darkening eyes. "I think so?" The detective admits as he slouches lower, chin tilting upward toward the executive on his right. There's an uncanny honesty in the way he speaks, his tone absent of its usual rifts and lilts, and yet it lacks the unnatural evenness that characterized the demon prodigy. That accompanied bandaged eyes and black coats, and the shadow of a man behind him.
Now, his voice is simply flat, emotionless but not lacking life, merely unsure of what to say. "I don't feel bad, but I don't feel good," chestnut curls flop with the candidness, brows dipping as his face scrunches, attempting to make sense of the fuzzy sensation.
Sapphire softens to tanzanite, deepens in hue when it trails the lithe line of tan coats and outstretched legs. "You-"
"She's my sister," Dazai starts, attention wavering as he crawls into the depths of his mind, into the hollow of No Longer Human, untangling the winding threads of his thoughts. "She'll always be my sister, but she's also him," and brown sugar stares lack the sweetness they once held, rather, they've hardened with the wait, with the time allotted for too much thought. Inhaling, Dazai's brows begin to drift downward, confusion painting itself across scarred noses and swirling eyes.
"And I know I can't blame her for his actions," his chin nods as he speaks, convincing himself more than the man at his side, his cheek turning to watch the flicker of shadow and light at the end of the hall, focusing on the sound of children and festival games. "But I do," guilt spoils the tongue, poisoning the mind until his throat is raw. Only a whisper is able to escape him when he sucks in another breath, careful to conceal the way it shivers beneath his coat. "Just a little bit, I do."
Chuuya only swallows, nodding in response though no words are exchanged. Seconds pass as minutes before the redhead is straightening. "Will you be okay alone with her for a second?" He questions as he rises from the bench, head gesturing in the direction of the bathroom before he's disappearing, joining the spirits at the end of the hall.
And the silence grows
The rustle of candy wrappers deafening in the quiet, Elise unwrapping another piece before she's scooting across the bench, occupying Chuuya's seat while the debris of wrappers litters her own. Swinging her legs, the quiet carries on, neither speaking as the creak of wood converses in their stead. As amber stares forward and aquamarine follows suit, Elise's legs swinging as she contemplates the question nestling behind her lips. Digging into the flesh of her gums until she can no longer hold it in, the blonde twisting the tulle of her skirt around her finger, nervously fidgeting.
Childish curiosity, questions that can't be asked. "Are you happier now that you don't live with us?" Elise pipes up, watching the twist of fabric in her hands.
"Yes." He doesn't hesitate.
Doesn't speak as his neck twists, peeking at the little girl by his side. Candy dust coats the side of her pouting lips, a few shards sticking to the skin, dazzling as false jewels beneath the fluorescent lights. Aged down, there's a squishiness to her features, the fat of her cheeks airbrushed in a continuous blush, and her round eyes cartoonishly large for her features. Even her hair has shrunk alongside her, the golden waves no longer as long, rather stopping shortly after her shoulders, the strands tangling at the ends where they've dragged across the puffy sleeves of her princess dress.
She's him, she's Mori's soul ripped from the flesh, sprouted from the rib to walk by his side, and yet Dazai knows it isn’t so. Because the memories of summer nights are embedded in the bone, every knock on the door and peek of blonde hair around the wood engraved into his skull. How blue eyes shined beneath the stars, and yet her smiles were sadder then, when she would sit at the foot of his bed, feet swinging, waiting for morning to come. How mischief would crinkle over her lips when she'd press her finger over the skin, waving a small hand to gesture him toward the closet before burying the boy in coats, running to greet the shuffle of keys within the front lock.
How she watched him
How she protected him
Hid him
Comforted him
Cried with him
She is Mori, at her very core, to the smallest atom, she is Mori.
Is his humanity sealed within the skin of a demon
And Dazai cannot fault her for her birth.
Another trembling inhale, another fidget of fingers around tulle. "But not because of you," Dazai whispers, the words barely audible as they scratch their way from his throat tight with what can never be expressed, if only because the words do not exist. Because the emotion teeming at the edge of bourbon cannot be explained, only felt. Only endured, squeezed from the petite fist around what should be a heart, what should be a soul.
"I love you."
Dazai stiffens with the phrase. With the inflection too reminiscent of another, how she pauses for half a beat between the words and her tone lifts at the end, a tease and a threat, the ability smiling with the confession she doesn't know is poison. Yet when cracking lips part to speak, he's stilling, watching as Elise grins before unwrapping the next candy, unaware of the eyes roaming her being.
Because fluorescence swims in golden curls, in starlight and sunshine, and the giggle of a little girl with ocean eyes so familiar. An expression written in the cosmos, carved within the blackened veins of gods and splashed across speckled cheeks. Over the starry skies of summer nights and the burning light of morning, the shade of steeling eyes and tied back hair, and the drunken grins found only in the protection of porch steps and firefly lanterns.
And as the first shuffle of steps begins to sound at the edge of the hall, as the stars find their way to the sun, and the gravity of the earth, Dazai's lips flutter. Not quite a smile, but an expression adjacent as he holds out a bandaged hand. As he faces the blinding light at his side when a candy is dropped into his waiting grasp, the detective unwrapping the sweet with both hands, watching the candy twirl.
"I love you too, Elise..."
The word squishes between the folds of caramel candy, Elise grinning as she pops her own candy into her mouth, legs swinging before dropping another candy into Dazai's waiting hand, the siblings quiet, reveling in the company of the other.
Candy and confessions
It's all the sweeter shared