[softly murmured, chasing the last of the wrappings off with his hands. He doesn't understand all of the marks - how, with what many of them were made; never came across guns before in his own world. There are so many of them, though, and his brow pinches into a frown for a moment not at the sight of them, but the extent coupled with knowledge they are all leftover reminders of things endured, things inflicted on Dazai.]
You're here.
[His words don't feel enough in this moment, but he is. After all of it - the events of the previous days, the past so intricately mapped across Dazai's own body... Dazai was still there.
One hand reaches up, slides into the man’s hair and brings him closer, secures a touch of foreheads and keeps it close with an arm around the man's waist]
…we’ll talk. In the morning when… [when he’s rested? When he’s better? He isn’t entirely sure of either of those things, or if it will even be morning, the next he wakes] …we’ll breakfast, and-- we’ll talk, maybe.
[They don't have to. Perhaps the morning might be no better, perhaps his words would still feel so little then, but it feels important to at least say. He won't go anywhere. They will still be here in the morning.]
no subject
[softly murmured, chasing the last of the wrappings off with his hands. He doesn't understand all of the marks - how, with what many of them were made; never came across guns before in his own world. There are so many of them, though, and his brow pinches into a frown for a moment not at the sight of them, but the extent coupled with knowledge they are all leftover reminders of things endured, things inflicted on Dazai.]
You're here.
[His words don't feel enough in this moment, but he is. After all of it - the events of the previous days, the past so intricately mapped across Dazai's own body... Dazai was still there.
One hand reaches up, slides into the man’s hair and brings him closer, secures a touch of foreheads and keeps it close with an arm around the man's waist]
…we’ll talk. In the morning when… [when he’s rested? When he’s better? He isn’t entirely sure of either of those things, or if it will even be morning, the next he wakes] …we’ll breakfast, and-- we’ll talk, maybe.
[They don't have to. Perhaps the morning might be no better, perhaps his words would still feel so little then, but it feels important to at least say. He won't go anywhere. They will still be here in the morning.]