it’s 8:28 pm, and the world is quiet.

kiyoomi drags his feet against the sidewalk, trying to figure out where he is, and why it feels so familiar. god, if only you could see him right now, you would be so pissed. 

“kiyoomi,” he can almost hear you laughing. “stop dragging your feet; you’ll destroy your shoes.”

you were such a pain in his ass, but he knows better than to complain now. he knows to be grateful now, thankful for everything you’ve done.

“i’ve got bigger things to worry about than my shoes.”

he looks up from the sidewalk, two figures walking not much further ahead of him. when did they get there.. why do they sound so-

“excuse me.” the first figure turns around, meeting kiyoomi’s gaze. holy fuck, that’s him — well, younger him. “are you following us?”

the second figure stops, but kiyoomi already knows who it is before they turn around.

“omi, let’s just go.” you whisper, hands around younger-him’s forearm, trying to tug him away. “being on the same sidewalk as us, doesn’t mean he’s following us.”

holy shit, kiyoomi remembers this day; your makeup, your dress.. this is cruel, this is so fucking cruel.

“where are you guys off to?” kiyoomi asks, watching as younger him wraps a protective arm around your waist.

“a date,” you smile, slightly flustered at the arm now holding you.

a date, where kiyoomi is going to propose.

he remembers how you reacted, how you slumped in the restaurant booth and cried, and kiyoomi feared you would say no; except you stood up and kissed him, whispering, there’s nothing i want more than to spend the rest of my life with you.

“are you happy, with him?” kiyoomi asks, pointing to younger him.

you nod, giggling as you watch younger-him scowl at the question. “of course i am, i would never leave him.”

you would never leave him, yea.

“not on purpose,” current him — present him, whatever-you-want-to-call-it him — corrects. “you would never leave him on purpose.”

“what’s that supposed to-” younger him steps forward, under the streetlamp, eyes widening as the light shines on current-him’s face. “you’re me,” he whispers.

“i’m you,” older-him repeats, jaw tightening, before looking at younger-you.

just as beautiful as he remembers; just as sweet, just as vulnerable. “i miss you, y/n.” he whispers, not even bothering to hide his glazed-over eyes. “i miss you everyday, every moment, every hour. i never stop missing you, and it never stops hurting.”

“you, you miss me?” you whisper, as if the wheels in your brain are turning, trying to figure out why a grown man that looks like your boyfriend, is telling you that he misses you. “why would you miss me?”

“why would you miss her?” younger-him repeats, refusing to meet his eyes. kiyoomi is smart, and he’s always been smart. of course he knows what he’s implying.

“it never stops hurting,” he continues, before turning to younger-him. “but you learn, eventually. you learn how to cope with it, and how to live with it; you learn how to move on.. at least that’s what the doctors say.”

younger-him squeezes your hand, refusing to let go.

“just make the most of the time you have together,” kiyoomi nods, wiping away his tears on his sleeve. “make the most out of it.”

and then kiyoomi is awake, blinking to adjust to the bright lights of the hospital room. a little disoriented, he stands up, walking over to the bed in the center of the room.

still unresponsive.

“y/n,” he whispers, taking your cold hand into his own. “i had a dream, a memory — of the day i proposed to you.”

your eyes remain fixed on the ceiling, still no sign of his wife inside this lifeless body.

“the doctors said that you aren’t coming back,” he chokes, pressing his lips into a thin line. “that i should pull the plug.”

no response on your end, no movement at all. 

kiyoomi gasps for air as a sob rips through his body, his tears falling onto your intwined fingers. “i’m being selfish, holding onto you. i know you aren’t coming back, but i can’t let you go, i can’t.”

he shakes his head, body trembling as he weeps, bringing up your hand for him to nuzzle his face against it. “i love you, i love you so much. you deserve to move on, to whatever is on the other side.”

a part of him believes that you’re still in there, but when you don’t respond, the hope evaporates into nothing.

kiyoomi cries for the rest of the night, praying for any kind of stability he may need in order to make his decision tomorrow.

it never gets better, and it never stops hurting — but kiyoomi can only hope that the doctors are right, and that he’ll learn how to live without you.

he doesn’t have bright hair, an abnormal eye color, and he doesn’t dress in an outlandish manner. he fits into the crowd, but is attractive, which plays in his favor. his "bland" look helps him blend into a crowd, and, when needed, he can use his attractiveness to flirt his way in or out of a situation. all in all, he is the last person you would suspect to be dangerous.

the only thing that sets him apart are the bandages, which—i think—is a reflection of his mental state. we don’t know much of his past, but, considering his current and past mental state, it’s safe to assume that it was relatively dark, as it seems to have a continued affect on him. his suicide attempts, while often played off as a joke, is a clear indication of how poor his psychological condition is. he’s committed many times and continues to do so. he’s in pain. to me, the bandages represent both past and present pain: “i was hurt, and i continue to hurt.”

if we were to go off of irl dazai osamus book “No Longer Human,” we can assume that dazai is also trying to fit in. to everyone else, he might seem like a normal person, but he feels anything but. oba yozo, the protagonist of “No Longer Human,” fabricated an entire personality in order to blend in with the humans he claimed to dread, referred to as his “clowning” because of its boundless jokes, surface level smile, and endless list of lies. in order to conceal himself, he used the mask of a joker, something our resident anime boy dazai osamu does as well. by making people laugh or (in kunikidas case) lash out, he can create an artificial connection, keeping his real self a safe distance away.

   To be fair, taking a 2 mile hike in the wake of a brewing storm probably wasn’t the wisest idea he’d ever had, but... the stress within the town had been building up a bomb in his chest, and the chance to slip away with one of his own kind was too valuable to pass up. Isidore had been thrilled to see Reef, and wanted to show him the kind of human world that the dark hippocampi had discovered for himself. Maybe Port Vale would never be home to Reef, but maybe it could offer some sort of haven to him on occasion, when the war stuff blew over. 

   “Well, we made it,” Isidore announced as the breached the crest, arriving to the site of the ruins. While a couple of the walls still stood quite intact, most of the castle now was reduced to rumble and dust. “I bet it looked like Chillon once, back in the day,” He threw in, shooting a smile to Reef as he gestured grandly, as if showing off a prized jewel than an old, dusty historical site littered with been cans and joint tips.