Foydor

The rain beat against the windowpane as if trying to sneak into the room. Dazai, reclining in the armchair, fiddled with the bandage on his wrist while watching Fyodor, who read with the same unwavering calm as always.

"—You have a very particular way of invading my life," Dazai murmured, without breaking eye contact. "And yet, here I am, letting you be."

Fyodor looked up, a slight smile curving his lips.

"Don't fool yourself, Osamu. If I'm here, it's because you opened the door for me."

Dazai chuckled softly. A dry, hollow laugh, as if hiding something much deeper.

—Maybe. Or maybe I just want to see how much you can take before you fall like everyone else.

Fyodor slowly closed the book. He stood up and walked towards him, stopping right in front of the armchair. He leaned slightly forward, his face a few centimeters from Dazai's.

—What if you fall first?

Dazai looked at him with those dull eyes, like bottomless wells, and for a second—just a second—his mask cracked.

—Then... take me with you.

Silence settled between them, thick and full of unspoken meanings. In that corner of the world, two brilliant and broken minds met, not as enemies… but as reflections.