Curate, connect, and discover
once, someone (he doesn't even remember who), between their unnecessarily praising speech to mori, mentioned how much his bandaged executive and him are similar. dazai was zoned out the whole speech so this small, unconsidered statement felt like a punch in the gut and suddenly he became extremely nauseous. they went on with their nonsense, mori listened with a polite smile on his face and all dazai could focus on was suppressing his urge to puke right into the speakers mouth, all over this huge room of mori's and finally on mori himself. he visualized in his head how his vomit will choke the speaker and how it'll pour from mori's hair. the smell would be awful.
later on, he stared at his distorted reflection on a puddle. a breeze lifted his coat, he smiled slightly and a few seconds later he was bent over to empty his whole stomach. he never had to vocalize it because he already knew. but how come others realize it too? he felt himself full of something sticky and poisonous, melting everything inside him and re-shaping them. he swears if he were to scratch and scrape his skin until it bleeds he'll find him there. was it always that obvious? at some nights he dreams himself on top of mori's dead body; his neck sliced open with a lancet. but deep down he knows there won't be any difference. it's too late, mori could die, disappear even; he has already injected all his venom into dazai's veins.
and dazai could see himself taking the syringe from mori's hands, just to poison another soul, just to melt them completely and destroy what they had of a person once. he knew all of these.
but still, he never got used to hear them from others.