WIP meme: post a line from your works-in-progress.
so, @foldingcranes did it and i thought it was cool so, here are some of the works i’m trying to finish. but either i’m too slow or i just lost myself in games, i’m very sorry.
So, when did those words started gain meaning?
Dazai knows Chuuya had other partners in their past lives. He knows Chuuya had been in love with other people; had been happy without him, had had a family, and he really can’t figure out why the mere thought of it bothers him.
He had had other people, too. Had been with other people. So, what was the problem with that? It isn’t for the better, for them? Hating the same person over and over in multiple lives could be tiring.
But Dazai wasn’t tired of Chuuya, of his hatred, of his fists on his face, of his gun blowing off his head with one shot, or Chuuya’s expression whenever he says his lasts words.
Being honest, completely honest, at first he didn’t want the kid. Dazai was fine with them living alone in their home; Chuuya was too busy with work and he didn't want to deal with that responsibility anyway. Why would he want to change his life? But the kid needed a home and Chuuya could never say no.
Of course he couldn’t, that’s why they were together.
Now Dazai was in a quiet home with a quiet kid and a nervous partner that didn’t know what to do. They have no idea how to take care of themselves most of the time, how are they going to pretend to be parents?
“Do you like here, Ryuu-chan?” Dazai asked to the kid sitting on their sofa, hands on his knees. Ryuunosuke was gazing at the living room until their eyes suddenly meet.
Ryuunosuke tilted his head, expressionless and remanded silent for a while, surely thinking. “I think it’s pretty,” the kid answered. This was the first time he heard his voice.
“Will you be alright with us?” Dazai continued, trying to reach to his level so they can see each other eyes. Ryuunosuke impassibly face didn’t change at all.
“I don’t know.”
La habitación donde su paciente iría a pasar la noche estaba decorada con colores claros y suaves, una ventana entreabierta dejaba pasar una brisa fresca del otoño que se acercaba y, en la cama, estaba él mirando el techo con una mirada intensa. Parecía absorto en lo que estaba viendo, tan fija estaban sus ojos que a Martín se le hizo difícil no mirar también para ver si había algo más.
-¿Es necesario que me quede aquí sin hacer nada? -preguntó Manuel luego de unos minutos de silencio que parecían eternos-. Victoria me dio un libro pero es imposible leer.
-¿Querés que te lea? -dijo Martín, más que nada por impulso, incluso su voz salió burlona. Estuvo a punto de disculparse pero escuchó una risa nasal queda.
-Estoy bien, oh -dijo Manuel, moviendo sus ojos hacia él-. Si es a lo que vienes.
Martín mantuvo la mirada hasta que se movió para sentarse al lado de la cama, en una silla reservada para las visitas. Aún con la bata del hospital podía ver el asomo de los brazos, el contra hechizo habia sido efectivo.
-¿Cómo te hiciste eso? -preguntó Martín, volviendo a mirar su cara.
-Es mi trabajo -contestó Manuel, hizo una mueca con la boca-, no, mi trabajo es deshacer maldiciones en los objetos muggles, en mi tiempo libre creo maldiciones y contra hechizos. Cuando la estuve probando, me llamaron para un caso y no pude detenerla a tiempo. Eso es todo.
-Parece descuidado para alguien que trabaja de eso -observó Martín, luego agregó porque no era de su incumbencia lo que un paciente hacia con su magia, menos un profesional-: ¿Te va a doler?
Y sin más que agregar, Martín se fue.