#now i'm sad...

SO-

.... I wonder if Ikevamp’s Dazai ever gonna mention this in his route.... Hm....

Mmm, I’ve seen that headcanon around, but I don’t really want to follow it, because I think it’s just as likely that she has two eyes, but that she has some kind of birthmark or scar or beauty mark or flaw that she thinks is really huge and obvious, but that is actually quite small. 

(For a definitive headcanon: She’s got a single, very narrow line through that one eyebrow - a scar -where hair won’t grow. It’s almost unnoticeable, but she’s thought about it and touched it and fretted and wished for it to be gone so much that she thinks it’s a far greater problem than it is, and it’s magnified in her mind.) 

Nothing is really said about her concealed eye, but I don’t really want her to have a missing eye at all, so I hold that her mother used to treat her imperfections as personal failings and manipulate her by holding them over her head as something to make Camilla do what she wanted or behave in a certain way, so it ended up with Camilla trying to anxiously cover up every time she failed at something or trying to tough things out alone whenever she got hurt. 

Sad and soft things.

Taking a deep breath only to then release it in a low sigh proves to be somewhat difficult in the darkness of their motel room, which appears to grow stuffier by the hour. The curtains hang closed still despite the sun having climbed well up into the morning sky and, though Job reckons this is fine, that Bunny ought to take however long she needs to heal from their traumatizing experience at the farm, he can’t help but wonder whether this is what she does all day while he’s off cooking at the local diner. 

She has every right to, of course. Job himself is hardly functional when he gets like this - remembers all too vividly the months immediately following his mother’s disappearance, in which an act as simple as crawling out of bed and taking a shower seemed like an impossible task. Most of all, he merely wishes he could be here with her, to keep her company -- so that he could, in the least, tidy up the mess on the floor and crack open the windows to let a bit of fresh air inside which, in his mind, could only do Bunny a bit of good. 

Voice heavy with regret, he finally murmurs, “Can’t, Bun. I’m sorry... I gotta head out to work.” Truth be told, keeping a roof over his own head when he travels on his lonesome is hard enough as it is. Affording this two-bedder has been a hard blow to his tattered, mostly-empty wallet already, and though Job has never been one to complain, there’s simply no way that he can afford to miss a payday.

And still, knowing this doesn’t make him feel any better, not when Bunny needs him there. He remembers his own first year on the road, some dozen years ago, to easily be the roughest, most loneliest time of his life -- and now, finding the same loneliness reflected in Bunny’s pleading tone, rather than remain standing by the door, just on his way out, Job instead ventures farther into the darkened room, sinking back down onto the creaking mattress of his own, undone bed.