Loving Dazai

THE INVITE

“He doesn’t even know my name.” Emily struggled to put on a gown.

“What? How in the world is that possible?”

Emily laughed, “I don’t know, okay?”

Emily was in Miranda's house, trying to choose a dress to wear to the exhibition. Miranda had always come through for her when it came to fashion. Half of the clothes in her closet were picked out by Miranda.

“But you know his name, and that’s simply because I showed it to you on the list. I doubt you would have known.”

“My asking him to do something other than just giving an apology came from nowhere. I bet that he saw the shock on my face. His name is not common, not even English.”

"It might not be his real name, just for his art probably."

"Hmm, that makes sense."

“Whatever, nobody knows much about him. He practically appears and disappears,” Miranda pointed at Emily, eyes gleaming with excitement. "This. This is the one. It is so-"

“It is so not what I like.” Emily jumped in.

Miranda dragged her palms down with a long sigh “Can you, for once, do something that is not you? It wouldn’t hurt.”

Emily laughed, smoothing the fabric against her body in front of the mirror. "I just need to wear something that I am more comfortable in. I hate gold and it’s so long."

“More like you hate anything I pick out for you,” Miranda rolled her eyes and got up from the bed. She scoffed as she rummaged through her closet again “Em, this is an art exhibition, not a trip to the grocery store. You need to look good, give him a good impression. If he is exhibiting his artwork and a woman is by his arm, she needs to be stunning." she pulled out a maroon strapless corset bodice and wiggled her eyebrows at Emily “This is fire. If you aren’t wearing this, then get the f**k outta my house.”

“Oh wow, it is so nice, the ruffled drape. I am likely not to return this to you.” With a grin and a twirl, Emily took the gown from her and put it on. The dress hugged her frame just right. Miranda gasped dramatically. "Oh, you are definitely taking it with you. It is yours now. No discussion."

“Aww, thanks honey. I just need a pair of shoes and jewelry.”

“Oh, Em, I always got you.” Miranda said with a devilish grin.

*

The room buzzed with quiet sophistication. Emily stepped in beside Miranda, who quickly linked arms with her, talking excitedly. The guests were few and finely dressed in sophisticated clothes. Very elegant.

Emily drew her coat closer. She felt intimidated but the heater was on and with time, she would have to take the coat off. They moved about, sipping wine and admiring the art.

"You should have just stayed for a while before coming. And now you have to wait. The artists only come in late, so I leave you here to go wander around and wait for your ‘Mr mysterious’" Miranda whispered. "Oh! And if anyone asks, you are here to appreciate the complexities of modern expressionism."

Emily scoffed with a smile "What in the hell does that even mean?"

"That’s what I heard one of my favorite artists say. She is so lovely, you need to meet her, but you can’t deny that it sounds art-like! Just nod a lot and say things like ‘It is splendid’ or ‘The brushstrokes convey emotion.’ Works every time." She winked

Emily laughed, shaking her head. "You’re unbelievable."

"Whatever." Miranda grinned before rushing to get to work, leaving Emily by herself.

She wandered through the gallery, taking in the artwork—bold strokes, muted palettes, chaotic energy frozen in time.

Blah, blah, blah.

Some pieces made her pause, she looked at the guests and tried to copy their expressions. None of the art made sense. Then she stopped.

Dazai’s work.

His name was written on a card plate, which was on the table in front of his piece. Something about it made her hesitate. It was dark yet precise, like controlled destruction. The kind of painting that felt like it had been born from something raw, something unspoken—that is how artworks are usually described as, right? People stood around it, murmuring in quiet admiration, throwing around words she didn’t understand.

"Here you go."

A glass of wine was put in front of her. She turned to find Dazai standing beside her, her heart skipped a beat. She took it from his hand, their hands touching briefly. This was the first time they touched. His fingers were slender and cold. He was dressed in a well-fitted black suit.

"I was just… trying to figure out what I’m supposed to be seeing," she said, taking a sip.

Dazai smiled, "You don’t need to understand it."

Emily glanced at him and smiled. He caught her lying…. Way to go, Em.

"I am really trying to understand art pieces and all. My friend works here so one way or the other she explains some pieces which hardly correlate with what I am seeing."

He nodded his head, a ghost of a smile danced on his lips, "Art is not for everyone."

She let out a small laugh. "Not at all. If Miranda were here, she’d be making up something poetic to impress people. After all, that is her job."

“Miranda?”

“My friend, she works as a tour guide.”

“Oh”

She glanced at him again then looked at his art piece. He was easier to talk to. Perhaps this was what brought him great comfort “But can I tell what I see, your artwork?”

Dazai didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his gaze fell on her "You look beautiful."

It sounded intense, his voice came down in a deep grave whisper. Emily studied his perfectly sculpted face “Thank you.”

He nodded his head “Sure,” and kept looking at her.

“What?”

He looked back at his piece “What do you see?”

Emily blinked, bringing herself back to earth "Right, I see a mess of dark colors, the hanging vase with sprouts of leaves, visualizing a busy city, with some red splashes. Like someone was in a bad mood?"

Dazai swung his gaze back to her, a flicker of amusement lit up in his eyes, then he chuckled.

Emily blinked. She hadn’t expected that reaction. "What? Was that completely wrong?" He was totally different in the space of art.

Dazai shook his head, the smile lingering on his lips. "Not at all. It’s just... brutally and refreshingly honest."

Emily narrowed her eyes and smiled, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

Dazai turned slightly toward her, took the glass of wine from her hand. "Come."

"Come where?"

"Dinner."

She blinked. "Oh, I uh—well, that wasn’t the plan, right? And besides, the exhibition isn’t over. I don’t want to take your-"

"I kept you late at work," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "So, I owe you."

Emily narrowed her eyes. "I thought this was…"

Dazai kept staring at her like she was dumb for thinking whatever she was thinking.

She sighed and hugged her coat to her body.