Ideas and stuff

The human tear was mixed with the blood from Dazai's body, by the gravity. It didn't stop. It wouldn't stop. So Dazai - feeling his heart beating furiously against his ribcage - stretched one arm to - weakly- reach the blade. He was going to make that thing stop at once.

He held the blade - it was turned to his chest and its tip cut his clothing. He sighed - the same sigh he saw the old man giving after his eternal sleep - as he started to dive the metal on his skin... It hurt. It hurt but soon it would all be over. Soon, he would no

longer be part of that cruel and irremediable world. Soon he would- "What are you doing?" A... a voice? Was it a voice? A human voice. With the strength left he looked towards the sound - he saw a man, a tall and dark man. "Oh dear. Looks like you are all bloody here",

That voice was soft and gentle - it gave Dazai goosebumps. A hand covered his own- the man had approached him with a kind expression, Dazai hadn't noticed it - and guided it away from his chest, tossing the blade away. Towards the move, Dazai could only follow it, like a child

who saw something for the first time. The man was smiling. He was smiling. He hadn't seen a smile for so long... Tears violently flowed down his cheeks - even his bandaged eye. Then, he regained the ability to speak as the man's eyes watched him with some unknown emotion.

"Do you need some help?" the kind voice asked - Dazai broke. "Help me! Help me! I... I don't want to die! It hurts... it hurts so much!" his voice was restrained and the sorrow and desperation traced his letters, syllables, words and sentences. His face was all wet and his eyes

- both - were burning as his wounds kept cutting his nerves. It was probably the most human Dazai had even felt. The man smiled once again - a fateful smile. "I can help you." he said with a melodious voice as he finally held Dazai's body - blood dyed his clothing. The tears

continued to flow as he closed his eye. "Please....just help me....I don't want to die" he didn't want to die after all. The man stayed silent carrying Dazai as the boy held the white coat with his red hands and rested his forehead against it. "But you don't want to live

either, am I right?" Dazai closed his eye with intensity. "I don't know!" he protested "All I know is that I don't want to feel this.... it's.... it's too much." As his lips pronounced the last words he passed out. It was probably due to the blood loss. Good thing the man

was, in fact, a doctor... Right?

That's what Dazai would learn later, because at that moment his mind was blank and empty. And his heart is even emptier, as its rhythm slowed down. He felt his emotions dissipating along with the pain. He closed his eyes and let the sleep take over him - he was curled against

the man's chest, like a baby would curl against their mother's chest. It was warm and tranquil, it was everything a half- dead person and soul could desire. Finally, he passed out - this time completely - as the blood dripped from his little body and the man carried him

towards the deep into that place - away from the rock where he tried to end his life and towards a hopeful light. Suddenly the white coat was everything that Dazai could see - pure and kind. He was being saved.

He didn't know exactly how he got there, but when he opened his eye he saw white. Was he dead? Then he heard certain sounds and realized they came from his breathing mask. His eye closed again. Gentle steps echoed.

"Are you feeling better?" the man - the person who held his blooded hand with no fear and with a certain kindness - looked at him with his hands in his pockets. He was looking elegant and cautiously at Dazai, who was imobilized. "Oh! I almost forgot" he smiled a little as he

walked towards Dazai, who tried to tilt his head a little, in his direction. "What's your name boy?" the man asked. He just stared at him, not knowing what to do, what to say. The man looked at him for a while and then took off from his pockets a small notebook

and a pen from the other pocket - he handed them to Dazai who looked weakly towards it. "Do you know how to write and read?" as an answer Dazai only closed his eye slowly; the man - luckily - seemed to understand. "Then you can write it down here." he said cheerfully but then

he made a serious expression "Or maybe not..." he muttered thoughtfully "Well! In that case you may draw the letters on the bed and I will write it down, alright?" His hand was, in fact, free of bandages so he could draw the letters with his finger on the bed.

However, he did feel his body aching and his head pulsating, but he was able to move his fingers at least - he confirmed as he started to slowly lift his hand. The hand felt heavy, like it was made of iron and the simple movements required an extra effort from his arm's muscles

As his finger flew in the air, his uncovered eye followed it with something that resembled curiosity. An image of his very own fingers covered in a lively red pierced his mind - it took over his notion of his own reality, replacing the white skin with an intense red.

The blurred background behind the finger became dark instead of the soft white from the office's walls. He held his breath and his movement suddenly stopped. The silence around them didn't help either and the miserable echo of the reminder of his own looniness persisted.

Almost involuntarily, the muscles around his eye, twitched - threatening his own tiredness or maybe his anxiety. The doctor was still before him, staring at the boy, his body leaning slightly towards the bed, so he could write whatever Dazai would present him.

His finger was not red anymore - for a moment, Dazai was uneasy about writing his name on the bed, afraid the red dye would corrupt the surface. But looking at it, the small tip was not red anymore - he could easily draw the letters. "Go on" the man nodded towards the bed,

taking the pen from his chest pocket and opening it with a satisfactory sound; then he looked at the boy with an expectant expression - but keeping the same gentleness from before. It was probably what made Dazai dismissing his memories - those about the corrupted skin of

his arms or about the blood drops - and finally leaned just enough to start to draw the first letter. The doctor opened a smile and a breath echoed in the air - as the boy's eye closed. That worked as a motivation for the boy, that felt as if he had been kissed by a

light breeze. The finger traced a clumsy "D". His breathing - heavy breathing - was echoing in the background as the man wrote it down. It was a slow and elegant calligraphy, written with blue ink. After that, the man looked at Dazai with a light hum. The boy, obviously,

didn't answer. "Go on" the doctor said softly. So that's what Dazai did, as he saw his name appearing in the notebook's white page. The other's lips were pressed against each other as his purple eyes hovered over the page - Dazai lay down again as he felt his arm

aching in pain, with a silent restrained sound. The notebook was lifted and it was placed in front of the man's face - it stayed there for a while, as if he was expecting something to come out of the page. Dazai didn't talk as he closed his eye with a soft sigh.

The previous accumulated tension left his body as he placed his hand on his thigh. It took a while before the man said anything. "Dazai.... you are...." he lowered the notebook a bit, just enough to look directly into the boy's only eye; then he added "Dazai..."

Then a small smile. It was small, yet so gentle that it felt like a blessing or even a kiss. The notebook was closed and placed on the small desk next to the bed - the pen was placed inside the man's chest pocket. All Dazai could do was watching the other, with a plain

expression on his face - but it was more of a childish curiosity than anything. Then the man leaned forward and closer to Dazai, with a smile. "So... Dazai... what do you remember from... " he waved a hand around "... the accident?" The preferable answer would be "nothing"