[He knew those feelings indeed, in spite of the major differences in their root. Bedivere, as far as Dazai could tell, wasn't someone who questioned the nature of morality to the point of suspicion, and the knight's emotional honesty was something Dazai struggled with.
And how could he not see the way Bedivere watched his king with such reverence? That sworn oath reminded Dazai of Odasaku's dying words, and of Atsushi's resolve at the end of a tumultuous battle. He might not have ever confessed to Odasaku and he's neither encouraged nor rebuffed Atsushi's crush on him, but - yes, he knew Bedivere's gaze and the acceptance of that longing.
(King Arthur looked very young, unlike most depictions showing a middle-aged man with a beard. Given what Bedivere mentioned about Excalibur and immortality, Dazai had to wonder.)
Waking up from his dreams was similar to floating upward in a pool: a near-weightless rise to the top as a surreal calm washed over him, a ray of sunlight escaping the gaps of his curtain and landing on his foot. Dazai blinked up at the ceiling, not in a rush to wake up.
It's been a while since he slept that deep.
If Bedivere didn't knock on the door or anything, Dazai would spend an hour in that in-between state, holding onto what he could remember of his dream, before wordlessly rolling out of his futon with the intention of heading to the kitchen to start the coffee before shuffling to the bathroom for a piss. Being on autopilot was a dead giveaway that this was a routine.]
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And how could he not see the way Bedivere watched his king with such reverence? That sworn oath reminded Dazai of Odasaku's dying words, and of Atsushi's resolve at the end of a tumultuous battle. He might not have ever confessed to Odasaku and he's neither encouraged nor rebuffed Atsushi's crush on him, but - yes, he knew Bedivere's gaze and the acceptance of that longing.
(King Arthur looked very young, unlike most depictions showing a middle-aged man with a beard. Given what Bedivere mentioned about Excalibur and immortality, Dazai had to wonder.)
Waking up from his dreams was similar to floating upward in a pool: a near-weightless rise to the top as a surreal calm washed over him, a ray of sunlight escaping the gaps of his curtain and landing on his foot. Dazai blinked up at the ceiling, not in a rush to wake up.
It's been a while since he slept that deep.
If Bedivere didn't knock on the door or anything, Dazai would spend an hour in that in-between state, holding onto what he could remember of his dream, before wordlessly rolling out of his futon with the intention of heading to the kitchen to start the coffee before shuffling to the bathroom for a piss. Being on autopilot was a dead giveaway that this was a routine.]