Author's Note: I know it's been a while since I updated this story. I hope you like the new chapter.
Kokoro searched through her closet for the perfect dress. She wanted to look her best tonight because it might be her last one on earth. If she was going to go out, she might as well go out in style.
Her fingers flipped through the hangers as if searching through file folders. She wanted to be wearing a whole lot more than clean underwear should she meet an untimely end. Too late did she realize she should have bought a new dress in addition to the new underwear she bought herself.
At the back of her closet she found a forgotten dress she had been saving for a special occasion. It was Tuesday night but this occasion could be as special as she wanted to make it. What could be more special than her last night alive?
She pulled out the hanging white bag bearing the name of the exclusive dress shop that personally fitted their garments to their customers - no off the rack purchases here. She could not even remember why she had splurged, blowing an entire paycheck on this one dress.
Laying the bag carefully on her bed, Kokoro unzipped it to rediscover what had driven her to a temporary lapse in fiscal judgment that could have very well made her homeless. Inside lay a floor length formal dress made of crimson red silk with red ribbons criss-crossing across the back to hold the material against the sides of her body along with the tiny thin straps that would hold the garment over her shoulders.
"What was I thinking?" she asked herself aloud as she peeled the dress out of the bag. "Where in the hell was I planning on wearing this?"
It was beautiful but impractical. Where could she possibly go for this dress to be appropriate attire? She did not like opera and had no time to attend a ballet performance. She was not a professional ballroom dancer. So what had been her reason behind buying it?
Kokoro shrugged. Who cares? She would be wearing it tonight despite having no where special to go. Seeing Osamu would be a good enough reason to wear it. Her black peep toe pumps with the pencil thin heels would go great with it.
Getting ready for tonight should be a ritual, her last rites of sorts - preparing for burial to be completely morbid. Worst case scenario, they survive another night but she looks damn good and impresses the weird and wonderful Osamu Dazai. This thought brought a smile to her lips while she lay the dress carefully on her bed beside the lacy red underwear. She tossed the bra into her drawer since she would not be needing it.
After checking for a text from Osamu, she lay her phone on the nightstand by her bed. First she took a shower, cleansing from head to toe, before indulging in a nice long soak in a bath with lavender scented oil. After the bath, she slathered on a rich lotion also scented with lavender.
Kokoro applied her make up, keeping it light and simple, using only black eyeliner, mascara, and her favorite red lipstick. She left her down, allowing it to dry naturally to form soft springy spiral curls.
For the first time in her life, she put on a garter belt, red to match her underwear, and thigh high real silk stockings. Stepping into the dress, she luxuriated in the sensation of the silk slipping up her legs against the silk stockings wishing it were Osamu's hands.
What kind of lover would he be? She doubted he would be a selfish lover, seeking only his own satisfaction. Considering how he had treated her so far, he would no doubt be gentle and patient, giving and caring.
Kokoro slid her feet into her black open toed pumps to walk into the living room. She had decorated the coffee table with a plain glass bowl in which floated candles and fully bloomed red roses that had been plucked from their stems. The wine glasses were empty but waiting to be filled from the decanter already on the table.
Petals from one of the roses had been sprinkled across the table and on the floor. Their scent perfumed the air along with the mouthwatering aroma of grilled filet mignon which sat in the oven along with the rich buttery mashed potatoes to stay warm until Osamu's arrival.
Grabbing the remaining four roses from the vase on the end table beside the lamp, she took them to her bedroom. Ripping the petals off by the hand full, she flung them across her bed which had been made up with her best Egyptian cotton sheets in black. The crimson red petals made a lovely contrast against the black quilted duvet. She had every intention of seducing Osamu Dazai tonight and making love to him.
The knock on her door rendered her breathless while making her gallop away at full speed, knocking into her ribs. Kokoro rubbed the healed ribs that Osamu had broken while bringing her back from that precipice of final respite. She had finally succeeded, dying that night, but she had unfairly left him behind. Strangely, she was glad he had not let her go alone. It was supposed to be the two of them together after all.
Reminding herself to breathe, she tried to lasso her runaway heart to get it under control. Opening the door, she smiled to see Osamu Dazai standing there looking like he always did: messy hair, trench coat, and bandages - handsome as ever. His big brown eyes grew even bigger as he took in her appearance from head to toe then back up again to meet her eyes.
"Wow," he breathed, his eyes sweeping over her again. "You look amazing. So beautiful."
"Thank you. Come in," she said, taking him by the hand to pull him forward. She closed and locked the door. "You're handsome like always."
"Thank you," he returned, lifting his collar. "It just comes naturally."
She giggled. "It seems to for you."
"Come here, beautiful," he growled playfully, sliding his hands around her waist to pull her forward into his arms. He hugged her, a surprisingly platonic show of affection, before chastely planting a kiss on her forehead, each cheek, and the tip of her nose.
When Osamu placed his hooked forefinger under her chin, lifting it upward, Kokoro's belly quivered along with her lower lip. Her eyes closed as her hands slid around his neck while his mouth lowered to hers. She held her breath, her heart running away again, when his lips pressed to hers. Like the ones before it, this kiss was sweet, innocent, affectionate, but lingering a bit longer to show a greater intimacy.
"I've missed you," he whispered without fully taking his lips away from hers.
"It's only been two days," she reminded him. She tried to play it cool as if she had not spent every waking moment of those two days daydreaming about him, longing for his touch, or sneaking in the occasional text just to let him know she could not get him out of her mind.
"A horrible and long forty eight hours," he sighed, running his hands over her wild and unfettered curls. "But I'm here now and you're in my arms."
"There's no place I'd rather be," she confessed. The skin across her lower back prickled, goosebumps raising in the wake of his gentle, slightly calloused fingertips gliding along the edge of the material that dipped low, almost down to the crack of her behind.
"Well, well, I must say. This dress is a wonderful surprise," he murmured, his lips close to her ear. His fingers slipped along the sides of the, for the most part, backless dress. He smiled when she gasped, her fingers pulling his hair slightly. "What's the special occasion?"
"Being here with you," she said, pressing her cheek to his.
"Anything special planned for tonight? Like a trip the afterlife?" he inquired hopefully, standing up straight to look down at her face.
Kokoro smiled, shaking her head. Osamu could not help but feel disappointed. He would not feel let down for very long.
"No suicide attempt tonight. But," she began, gliding her hands along the lapels of his jacket. "I would like to explore the concept of la petit mort."
"La petit mort?" he repeated the French phrase, smiling down at her. "The little death huh? A reference to the sometimes death like state after orgasm."
Her stomach clenched when his eyes met hers, his fingers caressing her bare back between the ribbons.
"You've heard of it?" she questioned him, biting her lower lip as he continued to raise more goosebumps across her back electrifying those nerves with the tender touch of his warm hands.
"Of course I have," he responded with a 'you silly girl' tone. He grinned, giving her a peck on the lips. His lips looked good in her shade of maroon lipstick. "I'm acquainted with all things pertaining to death." He toyed with the ribbons across her back, slipping his fingers under them to touch more of her bare skin as if there wasn't enough already bared for him. "At the moment of orgasm. the heart stops beating, just for a second. Skips a beat if you will. One is paralyzed, weak, unable to move. They say each orgasm brings a little bit closer to death."
"Oh? Do you think it's true?" she asked, her voice tremulous and her body shaking in his arms.
For a long moment, he did not say anything. His eyes seemed to be bottomless but far from devoid of emotion as they switched from gazing into her eyes to staring at her lips, desiring a kiss. What she saw there made her feel warm all over but made her tremble in his arms. When his eyes met hers again, they were more like a black holes, the gravity taking hold of her and sucking her in, threatening to devour her. She wanted it. She wanted him.
"Let's find out. Shall we?"
What about dinner?, Kokoro almost asked but could not find her voice. Who the hell cares about food? It could wait until afterward. Rising up on her tiptoes, she smashed her mouth against his for a hard, insistent kiss.
Osamu took his arms from around her to shrug off his coat but did not left his mouth from hers. The coat fell to the floor around their feet. His fingers slid under the straps across her shoulders, pushing them down her arms. The dress peeled down her body, gathering at her waist as he continued to kiss her while she cupped his face between her hands to ensure they did not break contact.
His mouth slid off of hers, down her chin, and to her neck. Her fingers shook as she clutched the turquoise pendant to begin sliding it down to remove his bolo tie. She pulled the tie over his head as his lips planted a row of kisses down her neck that made heat blossom deep in her belly. Dropping his tie onto his jacket, her dress soon joined them when he pushed it over her generous hips.
"Oh, my God," he gasped after leaning back to look at her. His fingers traced the top edge of the lace garter belt around her waist.
"You like it?" she asked as his fingers followed the strap down her the top of her stocking.
His eyes flew to hers and a rakish little smirk tilted his lips.
"What's not to like? You're so damn beautiful." He grabbed her head with both of his hands, kissing her squarely on the lips. His eyes met hers as he continued to hold her head firmly so she could not look away. "You are the woman of my dreams. You said yes. You are the woman I have been looking for so long. You are the one who will die with me."
"I hope so," she whispered, unable to speak any louder.
"I love you, Kokoro Ueda."
"I love you too, Osamu Dazai."
Carefully stepping out of her dress and avoiding getting her heels tangled in his jacket, Kokoro took Osamu by the hand to lead him to her bedroom. She led him to her bed, turning to face him. His hands touched her cheeks, gliding down her neck, across her shoulders, then sliding down her arms.
"Your skin is so soft." He bent down to pick up one of the rose petals from the bed. "Like one of these."
He touched her lips with the petal then stroked it across her cheek. She inhaled sharply at the delicious thrill that raced up her spine from the provocative light pressure imparted by the delicate flower petal. He continued to touch her skin with the petal, running it down her neck and across her chest. She resisted the urge to close her eyes, relishing the surprisingly stimulating sensations aroused be each brush of the petal down her chest.
Osamu dropped the flower petal in favor of fondling her breast with his hands. He cupped them, lifting them as if testing their weight. Her eyes closed when his hands covered them, squeezing. His thumbs stroked over the tightly contracted nipples to pull a moan from her lips.
"Osamu," Kokoro whispered, opening her eyes.
He liked the way she looked right now. Her eyes glassy, half closed, drunk with arousal. Reluctantly taking his hand away from her breast, he reached down to take her hand and lift it to his chest. He pressed her fingertips to the buttons on his vest as a not to subtle hint which she picked up on immediately.
After taking off his vest, Kokoro began unbuttoning his shirt revealing the new and clean bandages around his neck that seemed to be as much a part of his outfit as much as his trench coat or bolo tie. Her fingers moved along the edges of his shirt, touching his skin as she revealed it with each release of a button from its hole. He had silky, baby soft skin over the toned but mostly undefined smooth muscle underneath.
The bandages on his arms covered him from his wrists to his elbows like always. He had kept all of his scars hidden from her. Even in the few failed suicide attempts so far, despite the bandages being wet or damaged, he never took them off where she could see what was underneath.
"Can I..." she began, her words faltering as she reached up toward the bandages around his neck. "Can I take these off?"
Osamu nodded. "I want you to see all of me. Every wound. Every scar."
Kokoro bit her lip as she began unwinding the bandages. The scars looked like recent contusions, a mix of dark fuschia and light purple, but they were actually permanent bruises from deep abrasions incurred from multiple attempts at hanging himself. Her fingers shook as she traced the three parallel but not exactly straight pink lines.
"Straight razor. It's not easy to cut your own throat," he explained.
"Oh, Osamu," she whispered, issuing a shuddering exhale. When her eyes flickered up to his, there were tears in them.
"Don't cry, my love," he implored her, catching the tears with gentle, almost windshield wiper like motions of his thumbs as he cupped her cheeks.
"Your arms? Cutting your wrists? Vertically right," she guessed correctly, taking his hand and pulling his right arm down to begin unwrapping it.
"Yeah. That's the best way to truly open a vein to do yourself in, isn't it?"
"It's nearly impossible to stop the bleeding, to stitch up those wounds up. Plus you cut along the main arteries."
After revealing his arms, Kokoro noted there were several attempts to cut the three main arteries in the forearm. Her fingers followed each of the soft white scars beginning at his each side of his wrist. These cuts had targeted the radial and ulnar arteries, going upward to terminate at his inner elbow where he had hoped to converge and nick the brachial artery.
Once she had taken off the gauze from his other arm, Kokoro brought his wrist to her lips, pressing a kiss there. She continued to place kisses along those scars until she had touched the length of each one with her lips.
"Lie down," Osamu told her, stroking her hair as she gazed up at him.
She did so, crushing the petals under her to release their sweet scent. He fumbled with the hooks on the garter belt to detach them from the stockings. Her eyes stayed on his face, watching every little expression of interest, curiosity, confusion, frustration, then finally triumph and relief when he got them unhooked. He was an exceptionally patient lover as he carefully rolled down each stocking, removing the filmy garment from one leg then the other.
When his fingers curled over the waist of her panties and the garter belt, she lifted her hips in order for him to slide both pieces of clothing from her body. She lay on the bed in front of him, completely naked, totally vulnerable, her emotions raw and unprotected.
Osamu unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, dropping them and his underwear around his ankles to step out of them and leave them behind when he crawled onto the bed with her. He placed himself between her open legs, hovering over her, taking a moment to stare deeply into her eyes.
"Are you sure you want this? You want me?" he asked, waiting for her answer though he could easily push into her with a slight forward movement of his hips.
"I've never been more certain of anything," she said, pushing her fingers through his silky soft hair.
"That makes two of us," he replied, lowering himself into her.
Kokoro held his gaze, her mouth dropping open but no sound came forth. She chewed her lower lip as he pulled back, preparing to push into her again. He went deeper, receiving a whimper in return. Each time he pulled back a little further, went a little deeper, all at a teasing and maddeningly slow pace that left her moaning and writhing under him.
It was wonderful, experiencing something so intimate, something meant for just the two of them. An intertwining of not only their bodies but their minds and emotions - their entire souls. Seeking death together was no different than sharing their hearts or making love. It required complete trust, an openness and stripping away of all doubt, all inhibitions.
Kokoro had told him she trusted him with her life. She had given over far more than that even before their lovemaking. Their suicide pact required she give him everything: body, heart, and soul before this moment. Perhaps that is what made sex even more meaningful for them.
In the end, it was indeed a little death that left Kokoro unable to breathe, panting for air and wriggling underneath him while tears leaked from her eyes and dampened her hair at her temples. Osamu lay on top of her, taking wheezing inhales and juddering exhales. The sweat from his body dripped down, intermingling with hers making their bodies glisten and glide against each other as they struggled to catch their breath.
"I saw stars," he whispered, falling over onto his side next to her. "I think I might have passed out for a minute."
"Well, you were true to your word. I'm pretty sure I lost consciousness for a few seconds myself. That was the most unbelievable thing I've ever experienced," she panted, turning onto her side to face him. She pressed a kiss to his slightly parted lips. "Are you hungry?"
"Starving," he admitted, propping up on his elbow. He ran his fingers down her side, tickling her which made her squirm and giggle.
"Let's go shower off first," she suggested.
Osamu followed her to the bathroom where they took a shower together, sudsing and giggling and rinsing while stealing a kiss here and there. When they got out, he put on her white terrycloth robe leaving her the red silk one to put on.
"Go sit down," she told him, pointing to the couch. "I'll bring the food while you pour the wine."
Thankfully, the steaks had not turned into quarter sized pieces of very expensive beef jerky. The potatoes had developed a delightfully crispy brown top.
"Mmmm, this is really good," Osamu complimented with a mouth full of food. "Your cooking is to live for."
Kokoro dropped her fork which clattered loudly on the china plate. She picked up her glass of wine, quickly downing the entire thing.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, refilling her glass.
"I'm not sure," she admitted, swirling the wine around in the glass while staring straight ahead. "What are we doing here, Osamu? We seem to be defeating our own purpose."
"What do you mean?'
"I mean." She took a small sip of the wine then put the glass down to avoid chugging it. Taking his hand in hers, she rubbed his forearm, studying the scars as she spoke. "We seem to be finding more reasons to live, giving each other hope and..." She hesitated, lacing her fingers through his and squeezing his hand while looking into his eyes. "Love."
He had experienced disturbing glimmers of hope. The unexpected moments of elation when a little flutter of her lashes or a three word text like 'thinking of you' made his heart soar. He had even thought of the future, a future with her. Crazy shit like marriage and children. Growing old together.
"God..." He pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. "What the hell are we doing?"
"I'm not sure anymore." She picked up her glass, taking a drink while they both stared straight ahead lost in their own muddled thoughts. "Will you stay with me tonight?"
"Of course. There's no way in hell I would leave you. Besides, shouldn't we go for another la petit mort."
"Oh, yes without a doubt. One step closer, you know."
"Uh huh. One step closer."
Both of them had one question on their minds: One step closer to what?