"Consumed" by Mao

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This is a companion piece to the previous drabble. It is the same scene from Dazai's POV, so I recommend re-reading the first chapter before reading this one. Additionally, I have notes relating to Dazai's characterisation at the end.
It is always like this.

Repulsive, filthy, and heartrending. Your wrists are frail beneath his fingers, devoid of the resistance he had faced during your first time together. You subdue your flinches as he pushes himself inside you, your body conditioned for pain. You breathe sweet little moans into his ear, no longer crying out the way you did in the past.

He tries not to look into your eyes as he moves above your body, trying to focus only on your spread legs, your heated skin, the wetness around him.

(There is no point in looking for your feelings, he has to remind himself again.)

He does not know how many women he has taken this way, but he knows that you are the first to make him feel pain during the act. Even while his gut clenches with pleasure, his ribs ache with an awful pressure from the center of his chest. It pushes outwards, makes him feel as though something inhuman will pull his bones apart and step out out of his broken body.

(Dazai sometimes fancies that if he should be so lucky, this monster will kill him in the process.)

The feeling cuts into his lungs when your voice pitches higher, as though the pain in his heart is matched to the pain he is inflicting upon you. One of his hands leaves your wrists to trail down your face and neck, brushing your cheek and your collarbones. He only lets his hand linger for a moment, fingers gently kissing your skin, before it travels down to your breasts.

Your eyes flutter shut, and he relishes the way you groan his name.

(It should not matter to him that you are thinking only of him, he tells himself. You will not have him; he will not have you; and it would be hopeless for either one of you to desire the other. Any happiness that you may share would inevitably be lost. He may smile at you in the morning, delight in your laughter during the day, but there is nothing inside him that can answer your desperate pleas at night.)


(It should not matter to him, but seeing your swollen lips wrapped around his name, so loving and obscene, makes him impossibly hard, impossibly hungry.)

"Kiss me," you whimper, and his eyes narrow with his heart.

(There is no future for the two of you, the monster between his ribs grieves.)

Dazai looks away from your red cheeks and pleading eyes, feeling something halfway between anguish and yearning. Rather than leaning down toward your lips, he pulls himself out of the warmth of your body and tears himself away from you. Turning you over and pressing you into the mattress like a ragdoll, he pushes himself back into you from behind, groaning.

He cannot see your face in this position, cannot see the way he is plying your body apart, reckless. From behind you, he can only see the bruises on your hips and the sinful arch of your back. Unable to see your tears, he witnesses your heartbreak only through your guttural moans. His fingers tighten at the sound, and he knows that his nails must be hurting you.

When he spills himself into you, violating your body with his selfishness, Dazai is able to forget about the emptiness inside himself.

(There is no future for the two of you, because there is no future for him. He tells himself to act with this in mind, just as he does with all other aspects of his life. He should leave you there, even though he has taken you apart from the inside, leaving you fragile. He should tell you to go, even though it will hurt for you to walk. He should never hold your hand, kiss you, fuck you. He should not see you again.)

Leaving you to clean yourself, he strips himself of his clothes, replaces them with the sheets.

(He knows he is a fool, because the aftermath is never what it should be.)

He stares up at the ceiling, allowing himself to ease into the warmth of the bed, indulging in the heat of your body. His hand twitches, knowing that yours is close by, but he forces it still.

(Sometimes, he catches himself thinking that if he were to hold your hand, he would, for the first time in his life, begin to feel human.)

In the past, Dazai had covered your naked, disconnected bodies with bad jokes. He had soothed the bruises he left on you with cleverly feigned laughter. But these days, you simply watch him as he avoids your gaze, as if you already know that these actions will tire him. He does not jest with you the way that he does with the rest of the world. He does not stow away the hungry nothingness in his chest. He simply indulges himself in the sound of your breathing as he falls asleep.

(He degrades you again and again, but you are still the only one who knows the truth of his person.)

When he wakes up after these nights, he always slows his lungs, pretending to be asleep. During this well-practiced act, you never notice that he is conscious when you open your eyes. You are oblivious as he begins to notice certain patterns: that you always choose to stay with him, that you never draw your body away from his, that the occasional tear or two will dot your face as you fall back asleep.

As usual, he only sits up when you are fully caught in your dreams again. Dazai stares at you, knowing that he should leave, but unable to move.

(The pain in his chest is the worst during these moments. There is a space inside his ribs for you, he knows, and like the rest of his existence, it will never be filled.)

"Sorry," he whispers to your sleeping face.

He allows his thumb to brush away one of your tears, and then, for the briefest moment, his fingers lace with yours.

Notes about Dazai's character (not necessary to read, but could be interesting):

I decided to write this because Dazai's motivations might have been hard to understand from the first chapter alone. Since his character is pretty complex, I want to clarify that my interpretation of him is mostly based on the dark era light novel (where he is depicted as empty, lonely, lacking purpose, and difficult to understand). The manga also implied that he was genuinely suicidal during this time period. I also took a lot of inspiration from No Longer Human, since Dazai is based on its protagonist (who is really a semi-autobiographical depiction of the real Osamu Dazai). In the book, the narrator is a boy who feels disconnected from humans and is unable to understand the purpose of living. Consequently, he is unable to communicate in a genuine manner with others. To cover this up and blend in, he behaves like a clown.

I hope you guys enjoyed this! Would love any feedback, constructive or otherwise.

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