Chapter Text
“Say, Odasaku. What’s worse, being numb, or the constant urge to give up and never try again?”
I lift my gaze from the whiskey I’d been nursing and turn my head to the young man sitting next to me. He, too, has a glass in front of him, but it sits untouched for now. He seems to enjoy having it there to toy with the ice inside now and then. My brow furrows in an imperceptible way at the question. “Where’s this coming from?”
“Come now, Odasaku. No fair answering a question with a question, is it?” He chides me with a faint smirk on his part bandaged face, turning on the barstool towards me while resting his arm on the counter. His exposed eye remains emotionless.
“You just did it, though.”
“Only because you started it.”
This young man was a source of headaches and entertainment for our mutual friend Ango and me on a regular basis. Some would call him twisted and unpredictable. Others dispassionate and calculating. Both would be right. It all depends on which angle you’re looking at him from. The unfortunate thing is that he has many other angles for each of this different faces, and there’s no telling which way up he’ll land depending on the time of day and whatever has taken residence in his head at a given moment. Right now, it seems the face up side is on the despondent, gloomy range. The amused expression he’s wearing means little.
I look back down at my drink and try to think of how to answer his original question. “I’m not sure. Both seem equally bad.” Realising I probably shouldn’t keep my eyes off him if I want to have even an inkling of what’s going on with him, I tilt my head back towards him.
“Aw, come on! That’s avoiding the question in a different way, Odasaku!” The fingers of the arm he has on the counter ball up into a fist, his youthful features looking even younger as he practically pouts at me. “It’s important.”
“I think it’d depend on the situation for me.” I offer the addition in hopes it’ll quell his disappointment before it turns into a full on tantrum, but his face remains set in stubborn determination. I let out a faint sigh through my nose and continue. “Overall, probably being numb. It’s too much like being dead.”
He appears to give this a great deal of thought, the creases on his features relaxing some, even if not disappearing. It’s always puzzled me that someone as smart as Dazai would put any kind of weight on my input on things. “Being ‘dead’ sounds like a wonderful time, but…”
“Has Mori-san been offering you medication again?” When I ask this, he gives me a blank look.
“Maybe.”
I turn away for a moment to take a sip from my drink, then face him again and stare some more.
He stares back, unflinching.
We keep this cycle going for over five minutes, my drink slowly diminishing. As usual, he cracks first and rotates on his stool to peer down at the untouched whiskey in front of him, a finger prodding the ball of ice swimming in it so it bobs up and down. “Geh. Yes, okay, he did. I said no.”
Despite having known Dazai for less than a year, I had probably learned almost all there is to learn about him within the first few weeks. This isn’t to say I’m some kind of genius at capturing people’s essences in a flash. There just isn’t a lot to read about him to begin with. His true self, whatever it might be, is wrapped in so many layers of pretence that I’ve sometimes come to wonder if he himself even remembers who he is.
Since the topic of our boss and his futile attempts at improving Dazai’s mental health seems to bother him, I change the subject. “It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?” I glance out of the corner of my eye at him while resting forward on the counter. We’d met when he was already sixteen, in circumstances outside of the realm of normal for the average person, and had very quickly become good friends. This would mark the first birthday for either of us since that encounter. “Anything in particular you want to do?” I note he seems surprised by the question. He blinks once and lifts his sulking gaze from the ice to stare at me with his single uncovered eye open wide.
“Uh… Right, it’s almost the middle of June already, isn’t it? I hadn’t thought about anything.” His fingers lace together in front of the glass. “I don’t tend to celebrate it.”
“Would you like to?” There’s an instant shift to his expression the moment I ask this, like he’s barely able to contain a surge of joy beneath the gloomy exterior he’s trying to maintain at present. I don’t pressure him about it.
“Maybe. It might be nice.” He looks down to his whiskey again, and after a moment looks back up with a scowl. “But if you’re organising it, don’t invite Chuuya again like you did for the promotion to executive thing you set up.”
It had been a disaster. Amusing for me for a brief time, and terrifying for Ango, but a disaster nonetheless. Apologising to the café owner had involved all four of us, though I’m sure only three had shown any real shame about the events. All Dazai had done was play along. “Don’t worry, I learned the lesson. It’ll be just us and Ango unless there’s someone else you have in mind.”
He returns to his ice bobbing after I say that. He’s silent for so long I almost think the conversation is over, but his voice pipes up again while I’m drinking what’s left of my alcohol. “Can it be just us two?”
The request catches me by surprise. I put down the empty heavy bottomed glass and turn back to him, pointless as it is since I’m unable to tell what he’s thinking. “If you’re sure.” It’s an odd thing for him to ask. It’s not as if he dislikes Ango despite his propensity towards messing with him. He must have a reason I can’t imagine he’ll want to disclose.
“I’m sure.” His voice is firm, like that of a teenager who’s made up his mind and won’t change it no matter which alternatives are offered.
My line of thinking isn’t quite right, of course. It’s not that his voice resembles that of a teenager. It is one. At times I have to force myself to remember he’s not yet an adult, no matter how unusual everything about him might be. No matter how mature his mind is for a lot of things. “Okay. I’ll think of something and let you know.”
Dazai looks up at me. This time there’s a hint of excitement in his eye at the prospect of celebrating something I would’ve thought he’d hate to. “Don’t take too long though, it’s next week.” The slowly melting ice is given a temporary reprieve when he rotates the stool around once more and ends up facing me with an immature scowl. “Really, Odasaku, you should’ve asked this much sooner! What if we don’t have time to prepare things now?”
The corners of my lips curl into a smile so thin that I’m not sure if my bar partner even detects it, busy as he is berating me about everything that could go wrong with rushing the planning of such an event. I don’t interrupt him. It’s obvious he’s having fun with this.
I let him go on with ranting about possibilities for this celebration of ours as the night moves on. When Ango turns up some time later, all discussion regarding Dazai’s birthday dies out. He doesn’t bring it up for obvious reasons, and we switch to chatting about our recent work instead as we often do.
It’s like the conversation from earlier hadn’t happened. It’s almost frightening, but I don’t think much of it. Perhaps he wants to talk of our first meeting without anyone else present in the room. I’m not going to complain.
I’ve already put the matter out of my mind before the night is over. Only later, much later, do I realise I shouldn’t have.