[He says nothing, to the condolence. There's nothing he has to say on it. For all that he feels overwhelmed by what emotion the situation has wrung out from him, is nonetheless entirely too logical, too detached for genuine projection. Castiel isn't Odasaku. Dean isn't him. The relationships each pair has are singular; nobody else could truly understand what they were to each other. Even if Castiel were to live, it wouldn't change that Odasaku is dead, and Dazai failed to save him.
No, Castiel is merely a reminder of a grief that has already lived in his skin for four years. It's just that most of the time, with most people, it is an old scar that aches in bad weather. Castiel, with nothing of guile or ill intention, nonetheless digs his fingernails in the wound and tears, with every new conversation. It wouldn't have ever been for him to know, the ache in his heart when they speak, the nostalgia that he has given nobody the right to share with him. He couldn't hold the angel responsible for that; the blame lies solely with Echo, as far as he's concerned.]
I thought I might be. You never once denied that you would do anything for him, even then.
[He's silent a while. Then:]
His name was Sakunosuke Oda, but I never cared for it. Oda is too short, but Sakunosuke is too long, so I called him Odasaku. He walked willingly to his death for a battle he knew he wouldn't survive. He wasn't like me, though, who has only ever longed for death. He wanted to live. He wanted to be a writer.
[The cage clicks open. Dazai ignores it.]
You told me you understand, but I don't think that's true. I think you don't want to die, but you're afraid to live when your world no longer makes sense. You're afraid of how human you've become, and how much more human you might yet be. It only makes sense. You've been watching us suffer for thousands of years, after all.
no subject
No, Castiel is merely a reminder of a grief that has already lived in his skin for four years. It's just that most of the time, with most people, it is an old scar that aches in bad weather. Castiel, with nothing of guile or ill intention, nonetheless digs his fingernails in the wound and tears, with every new conversation. It wouldn't have ever been for him to know, the ache in his heart when they speak, the nostalgia that he has given nobody the right to share with him. He couldn't hold the angel responsible for that; the blame lies solely with Echo, as far as he's concerned.]
I thought I might be. You never once denied that you would do anything for him, even then.
[He's silent a while. Then:]
His name was Sakunosuke Oda, but I never cared for it. Oda is too short, but Sakunosuke is too long, so I called him Odasaku. He walked willingly to his death for a battle he knew he wouldn't survive. He wasn't like me, though, who has only ever longed for death. He wanted to live. He wanted to be a writer.
[The cage clicks open. Dazai ignores it.]
You told me you understand, but I don't think that's true. I think you don't want to die, but you're afraid to live when your world no longer makes sense. You're afraid of how human you've become, and how much more human you might yet be. It only makes sense. You've been watching us suffer for thousands of years, after all.