#changed my writing style for the 13 time ts week im WEAK

[naviiq]

the city feels far away, muffled by the rain that lingers softly in the air. neon lights smear across wet concrete, and everything smells faintly like cigarettes and damp asphalt. you step out onto the balcony and catch him there, leaning on the railing with a cigarette balanced between his fingers, smoke curling up into the night.

his coat’s slung over the back of a chair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and for once, he’s not saying anything. no clever remarks, no loud declarations, just silence. it suits him in a way you absolutely hate to admit.

“you’re gonna go through the whole pack at this rate,” you murmured, folding your arms and leaning against the door frame. your voice feels small against the vastness of the sky, stars hiding behind clouds.

he glances at you, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “worried about me, are you?”

you roll your eyes, but the answer sits heavy in your chest. you don’t say it, though. you know better than to hand dazai words like that. instead, you drop down to sit on the ground, leaning back against the cold metal railing. the concrete bites at your skin, but it keeps you grounded. makes you feel even more real, in some cold way.

he laughs, soft and low, and for a second, it feels like the city stops buzzing, the light alarms blaring, just gone. he taps the ash off the cigarette, letting it fall over the edge of the railing.

after a moment, he joins you, sinking down beside you with a kind of effortless grace. his knee brushes yours, and it takes everything in you not to react.

“you’re quiet tonight,” he says, breaking the silence. he propped his elbow on his knees, both his hands in a fist underneath his chin, looking at you— staring at you.

“just thinking,” you sighed out, the cold cloud leaving your lips as you did so. you leaned your head back more to stare out at the blurry skyline.

“dangerous thing, that.” he lit another cigarette. the soft click of the lighter broke the quiet stillness, a quick flick of metal against flint that sent a tiny spark playing around in the dark. the flame flared to life, briefly painting his face in warm orange before it curled against the tip of the cigarette, smoke twisting upward.

you glance at him, the faint glow of the cigarette softening the edges of his face. his expression is unreadable, the smirk gone now, replaced by something quieter.

“does it ever get too quiet for you?” you whispered, closing your eyes with a heavy shut.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he takes a long drag, the ember burning brighter, and exhales slowly. the smoke curls around him, makes him look less like a person and more like an idea. a bad one, at that.

“sometimes,” he says finally. “but the noise isn’t any better.” fiddling with the cig in his index and middle finger.

you watch him for a moment, at the way his shoulders slump like he’s carrying something too heavy to name. you don’t push. you’ve learned by now that dazai’s the kind of person who slips through your fingers the moment you try to hold on too tight.

instead, you opened your eyes. you stood up to walk towards him. “i don’t get you sometimes.”

“what’s there to get?” he asks, turning his head toward you. his eyes are darker than the night, and honestly, it added to the prettiness in him.

you leaned against the railing, close enough to feel the faint warmth of his firing cigarette. the cig between his fingers burned low, its smoke curling up. “give me one,” you muttered, more a quiet demand than a request.

he raised an eyebrow, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips coming back. “i didn’t think you smoked.”

“i don’t,” you admitted, holding out your hand anyways. “just— agh, give me one.”

dazai didn’t argue. with that usual, almost theatrical grace, he slid the pack from his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, placing it lightly between your fingers. his touch lingered for half a second longer than it needed to, but it felt deliberate, like everything he did. like always.

and before you could ask, he leaned forward, lighter already in hand. the soft click of metal broke the quiet as the flame sparked to life, flickering briefly before steadying.

his free hand cupped the other side of the cigarette, shielding it from the faint breeze as the flame curled against the tip, burning bright for a moment. his face was close— too close— and the warm light of the flame painted his features in a way that almost made it hard to breathe. it lightened up like his own fire in his eyes.

you inhaled shallowly, coughing just a little as the smoke hit your lungs. dazai leaned back, watching you with something between amusement and curiosity. “suits you,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

you exhaled, smoke twisting upward into the night, and shook your head. “oh shut up.”

“so i’ve been told,” he murmured, and for once, his smile softened, like it wasn’t meant to cut.

the two of you sit there in silence after that, the faint hum of the city below filling the spaces where words don’t need to go. it’s not perfect. but it’s enough for you.