Chapter Text
It was as if the events of last month had washed away with the rain. A clean slate rested in their place, spotless and prepped for new commandments. A list numbered 1 to 58. Perfectly spaced, perfectly pointed, perfectly empty. Beside 1, an extra period indicating the author’s hesitation. The beginning of a word, an idea, a wish never to be realized.
He preferred it that way. Full stop. Everything returns to normalcy.
Kunikida pushed all his innermost desires to the back of his mind. So far back, in fact, that he was able to convince himself that they had never existed. Nope, it had all been Dazai and Ranpo’s fabrication. Well, how lovely that their joke had played out! Embarrassment had gotten the better of him, but now, he could laugh it off. And he did, whenever Dazai would cautiously approach it like an old wound or a nasty scar.
“What a silly time that was,” Kunikida only mused, typing furiously on his laptop. “I can’t believe I got so far away from work, really. Luckily, I caught up. It only took a few sleepless nights.”
Atsushi, warily hovering behind the two partners, shifted from foot to foot. “Kunikida-san, when’s the last time you slept?” he asked.
“Oh, I got a good four hours in after I finished working overtime. Caffeine does wonders for the soul,” he hummed in response, scrolling through a police report.
“M-maybe you should take a day off,” Atsushi offered.
“A day off?! No, why would I do such a thing!” Kunikida laughed, jittery in an attempt to placate his own internal storm that had begun to brew. Work was the only thing keeping him sane right now. And he was, in his own fine opinion, perfectly sane.
Dazai sighed—though it was not layered with his typical theatrics. “Kunikida-kun hasn’t taken a day off in years. Actually, I don’t think he’s taken one off since I joined. He even came in with a cold a few times, I think.”
“Well, there’s… there’s no time like now to start!” Atsushi sounded desperate, gaze flitting between the two and searching for a call to action. Neither stirred to answer.
Kunikida tapped his pen on the desk before commencing his notes again. “Triple homicide, wonderful.”
“Is it the mafia?” Atsushi asked innocently, not seeming to notice the blonde's suddenly tense shoulders.
“Let’s not dwell on the mafia, now, Sushi~” Dazai hummed and slid his arm across the other’s shoulders, squeezing him in a half-hug.
“Aha, yes, now, let’s not,” Kunikida grumbled, tone venomous.
Obviously, he had not forgiven Dazai. Even if it all turned out to be a stupendous joke, it had cost him much of his time and emotions. The latter wasted on a faulty prospect of what might have been. One that would never be.
Another incident in the past week (since that fateful day) rippled into view within his mind. A few fresh days since the entire debacle.
Dazai had been leaning over his shoulder in that typical annoying way of his, prattling on about god knows what until he got on the topic of the mafia.
“Atsushi-kun~ Has Akutagawa bothered you since the whole whale shabang?”
And that was a mistake. An audible crack silenced the room, ink dripping between Kunikida’s clenched hands. His pen split in two.
There was absolutely no reason to bring it up. Atsushi would’ve complained for hours if the mafioso even breathed in his direction.
Instead of engaging, Kunikida just calmly stood, headed to the bathroom to wash his hands—definitely not pausing to stare at himself dejectedly in the mirror—and returned to his seat. And he didn't even need to turn around to watch Dazai’s smirk deflate.
What else did he expect? The man lacked basic social niceties, Kunikida had learned the hard way. Why would Dazai properly apologize when he could rile someone up, hoping for them to be the one to break the awkward tension? It seemed like he could ride it out forever, and Kunikida was keen to take him up on the offer.
Ranpo wasn’t exempt either. Bringing up trite information about the mafia’s happenings. Though, to be fair, it often threatened their business, so could it really be avoided? Unlike Dazai, Ranpo didn’t seem intent on pushing Kunikida’s buttons. Either he’d had a bout of sympathy or grown bored of the charade. Given, well, everything about Ranpo, Kunikida decided that it was the latter.
And, finally, Akutagawa himself. For all his supposed stealth, he turned up everywhere—from security cameras to police stations. Maybe he’d never been the most secretive, but Kunikida felt like he was popping up more than he had before. As if to spite him.
It happened even outside the work environment. He couldn’t go back to that tea shop without feeling the sting of phantom memories, so he attempted to try a new one. Until he saw the familiar thin silhouette hovering by the counter like a shadow. Kunikida didn’t even know if their eyes met before he’d sprinted out of there, mocha valencia forsaken.
At this point, strangers in dark coats made his heart jump then stop. On the streets, he feared the next accidental bump against someone’s side would come with an intentional spike through the stomach.
Did he deserve it? At first, it had been a hard no, filled to the brim with animosity toward his colleagues’ stupidity. But now, as it had simmered to a dull ache of bitterness, his red-tinted vision softened into dejected melancholy. Maybe he could have tried harder. Spoken up. Taken Akutagawa’s hands and then professed his undying love. Maybe he would’ve gotten a no, a harsh slap to the face, or some stunned silence and head-shaking disbelief—but it would have been better than whatever this was. Self-pity.
In the day, he did his best to avoid all depictions of his former—what could he even call it? Interest? Nevertheless, he did his absolute best to banish the thought from his mind. However, it didn’t prove well enough, for the images only haunted his dreams instead.
What had once been sugar-coated, honeysuckle fantasies filled with rosy cheeks and phantom touched morphed into something unrecognizable. It held only the shadows of its former sweetness—any remaining felt saccharine or tainted with longing. Kunikida suffered through strange plots, always side by side with Akutagawa.
Once, he was unable to cleanse red from his hands, apparently spurred to murder by his gray-eyed beau. Dazai’s form lay broken in his sleep, blood splattered across pillows.
Another, he suffered through a hateful speech from Akutagawa, tinged with madness. Then found himself slipping underneath a curtain of murky water, unable to breathe.
He’d even found himself proposed to in a graveyard, kneeling in front of the headstones reading lives he’d failed to save. Yet he’d still let the ring slip onto his finger, watching as the dark figure retreated into the night.
And, finally, in a stone-cold tomb. He pulled back a gossamer veil to reveal Akutagawa’s lifeless body laying on the slab, only managing to lean in close to his deathly pale face before it faded to black.
He always awoke with a start, the immediate details of the dreams instantly fading. Then, he’d feel the ache still lingering in his chest. With a pained groan, the covers would slip over him again, tucking him into a night of tossing and turning. He never found respite. Never found an antidote to the cold comforter at his fingertips.
Never, after all this time, let it go.
Regardless of what he told himself.
————————————
My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please.
————————————
An alleyway in Yokohama. Seemingly no more suspicious or dangerous than any other in a metropolis. Until one considers who or what might be lurking within it. In this case, on the precipice of where Port Mafia meets the light, the setting is perfect for the meeting of once-partners, now turned foes.
“I can’t believe this bullshit. Why couldn’t we meet in a bar or somewhere nice?”
“Now, now, Chuuya~ Even you know that wouldn’t be very stealthy, eh? Even with everything still going on between our organizations, this conversation is better had in secrecy.”
The mafia executive huffed, breaking away from the wall he’d been angrily leaning on for the past ten minutes. Dazai had been late, as expected, even when he’d been the one pestering him with call after call. He adjusted his hat, ignoring the giggle from his ex-partner that followed.
“Yeah, about that… What the hell kinda ‘conversation’ are we talking, here? I had to make up some excuse for the boss for this shit, so it better be good,” Chuuya grumbled, crossing his arms.
Dazai shifted back and forth on his feet, then pressed his two pointer fingers together while pouting at Chuuya. “Don’t be mad at me…”
Chuuya groaned, holding his temples. “What the hell did you do now?”
“Before I get into it,” Dazai paused and straightened up again. He tucked his arms behind his back, leaning forward. “How’s Akutagawa-kun been?”
Expression darkening, Chuuya puffed up too, albeit in a more aggressive manner. Even with the stupid bandage bitch towering over him, he could be pretty intimidating. “What did you do to him?!” he hissed, glowering. “I told you to fucking stay away from him.”
“Aah, so it’s bad,” Dazai only hummed nonchalantly. He stuck a hand in his hair, scratching at the back of his head.
“Yeah, bad doesn’t begin to cover it. He’s been all fucking depressed and angry. More than usual, and that’s saying something. Won’t even talk to me about it. Just grumbles about how he fucked something up.”
“Oh, well that’s—”
“I shoulda known it’d have to do with your dumb ass. Go out of your way to tell‘m he's worthless or some bullshit?”
Dazai’s expression tightened into a frown. “No. No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Listen to me,” he sighed. Chuuya rolled his eyes but managed to stay quiet. “I fucked up, but not like that. You remember what I told you about Kunikida?”
“Tall blonde guy I threatened?” The redhead’s face twisted up with realization. “You said he was trying to get cozy with Ryuunosuke or something, right? Saved his ass a few times, I think. Remember pulling his picture outta that funny little notebook. Weirdo.” He snorted, then looked back up. “It’s about… that?”
“I said he was in love, Chuuya~” Dazai crooned, some of his silliness returning.
Chuuya groaned. “Yeah, whatever. Love ain’t real. Unless it’s for a city. Or a good bottle of wine.”
“Don’t be such an alcoholic~”
“I’m not an alcoholic. I’m cultured,” Chuuya protested. “But, if you’re serious about this love shit, you’re telling me he was pining for Akutagawa fucking Ryuunosuke? I mean, sure, I tell the kid he’s gotta get out there, but not that far out there.”
“Yes, yes! Is it that hard to get through your tiny skull? Kunikida-kun fell for a little emo murderer. He’s not the brightest. But that’s beside the point! I might have… led him astray.”
“How so?”
Dazai propped himself up against a wall. He let out a nervous laugh. “I teased him. And—then accidentally stalked them.”
“Wh—how—how does one accidentally stalk their coworker?!”
“I—we didn’t mean to!”
Chuuya looked like he was about to walk out of the alley, scoffing to himself. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” Dazai huffed. “Ranpo-san asked me to play hide and seek after work, since I’m the only one who he sometimes can’t find. Well, then we ate a bunch of candy and decided to crash in one of the lockers—what’s that face for?”
“Nothing. It’s just the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Shut up. Anyway—I woke up, and I could hear people talking. Ranpo-san, too. And, oh, imagine my joy when I saw that it was wittle Kunikida-kun and Akutagawa-kun canoodling on the couch—!”
“Hold up, hold up,” Chuuya interrupted, raising a hand. “Canoodling?”
“Yes!”
“This is Akutagawa we’re talking about.”
“Yes, and that’s what makes it so astounding!”
Chuuya blinked in disbelief. “He doesn’t even let me clap him on the back without flinching. I tried to fist-bump him once and he ducked. I’ve nearly been impaled a few times.”
“See, Kunikida-kun is special! But, yes, we went over to them… Akutagawa-kun freaked out and thought we were spying on them. Then he called Kunikida-kun a liar and ran off,” Dazai finished explaining.
For once in his life, Dazai looked a bit sheepish. Genuinely sheepish, instead of just trying to manipulate him. Chuuya couldn’t help but revel in it for a moment before responding. “Yeah, that sounds like you fucked up. But you shouldn’t be apologizing to me ‘bout it—”
“I’m not!”
“Then why’d you call me here?”
“I… I want to fix it. Get them back together.”
Chuuya fell silent, knitting his brow. Dazai moved off the wall a bit, wringing his hands before he continued:
“You said Akutagawa-kun is hurting, so is Kunikida… He’s all pent-up, angry, and I hate it. I hate how mad he is at me, and I wish it would go away—”
“Oi, what you’re feeling right now, that’s remorse. Feels like shit, doesn’t it?”
Dazai shoved his hands in his coat pockets, almost like a petulant child. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Chuuya beat him to it.
“Can’t believe you’re realizing what kind of a shit person you are now. Could’ve saved me a lot of grief.” His gaze narrowed, animosity seeping in. “Could’ve saved Ryuunosuke a lot of shit, too.”
“Chuuya, I—”
“No, you listen. I’m not gonna just fix your problems. I did it for four years, thought I’d be over and done with it when you fucked off, and you’re still trying to make me your errand boy or something. Especially when it’s concerning Ryuunosuke. You don’t even know half of what you did, don’t you? That bullshit training or mentorship, whatever you called it, fucked him up. He still bursts into tears if I tell him he did a good job; just those two words,” Chuuya paused to snap, “and he’s gone. Can’t even bring up your name around him. And I gotta spend an hour talking him off the ledge before he has to go see the boss. So, yeah, I’m glad someone in that pristine agency of yours knows what a piece of shit you can be.”
Silence fell between them. Chuuya kept up his glare, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Dazai stared back, empty gaze finally filling with something. But who knows what it was.
“Regardless… of what I did. I did it to make sure he turned out strong.” Dazai saw Chuuya’s lips move to protest, and he held out a hand to stop him. “You can disagree with me. Slander me. Whatever you want. But,” he started emphatically, lowering his hand, “I think… he’s good for him. Kunikida. And the other way around, too. Was Akutagawa-kun happy? Before this depressive spell, I mean.”
Chuuya held his tongue on the multitude of curses he wanted to spill at his ex-partner. Half of his own grief, the other on Akutagawa’s behalf. He pushed it aside, trying to recall. “...Yeah. Yeah, he was. Was kinda cute, seeing him all… okay, and all. Rewarding.”
Dazai nodded, managing a small smile, “So was Kunikida-kun. Maybe slightly more stressed, actually, but you can never tell. He’s always tied up,” he sighed theatrically. “Point being, think they actually did some good for each other.”
Raising an eyebrow, Chuuya let out his own sigh. “You sure this isn’t some ploy of yours? Like the tiger-boy and him? Surprised they didn’t kill each other before they saved the city from the fucking flying dolphin.”
“It was a whale, Chuuya,” Dazai corrected.
“I don’t care what it was. Was fucking annoying. Worse than the farmer and the octopus I beat up. I hate Americans.”
Dazai chuckled, shaking his head and moving on. “But, yes, I’m very sure about my intentions. If Akutagawa and Kunikida fought together as a team, it’d be terrible!” he said honestly, grinning. “Don’t want to put them as a duo. What would they even be? Double-Stupid?”
“No, that name’s reserved for you.”
“Hey!” Dazai cried indignantly. “I’m not the one who mixed up a whale and a dolphin, chibi.”
“Don’t call me that, bastard.”
“Oh, yeah? Or what?”
“Or I’ll punch your teeth to China.”
Dazai struck a dramatic damsel-in-distress pose. “You wouldn’t hurt an innocent babe like me~” When Chuuya readied a fist, though, he immediately threw his hands up to protect himself. “No, no, I’m kidding! Not the face, it’s my best feature!”
“You ugly little shit.” Chuuya rolled his eyes. “Tell me your stupid plan to get them back together before I walk up this wall and outta your sight.”
Blinking, Dazai reverted back to a more normal stance and put on his scheming grin. “All we have to do is get them together. The rest will work itself out.”
“What? Nah, Akutagawa’ll rip him to shreds.”
“Hmmm, I doubt it,” Dazai hummed, pulling out his phone.
“You think I don’t know my own subordinate?”
“Oh, I’m sure you do. I just know him better.” He punched the keys for a moment, and then Chuuya’s phone buzzed in his pocket. “Sent you the address. Let’s shoot for 7 PM tonight.”
Chuuya pulled his own out, glaring down at Dazai’s contact name. “What the hell am I supposed to say?”
Dazai tucked his phone back into his pocket, already heading out of the alleyway. “Whatever you want to get him there. Say it’s a mission, a deal gone wrong, or something.”
“Ugh. Got it. It’s not my fault if your guy ends up dead.”
“He won’t! Ta-ta, chibi!” Dazai lazily waved goodbye.
“I said don’t call me that!” Chuuya turned to walk up the side of the building. “Bastard bitch.”
————————————
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art black as hell, dark as night.
————————————
Kunikida looked down at his watch, frowning. An hour. Dazai said he was going to get something from the vending machine down the hall, and he was certain that snacks didn’t take that long to get.
Yet, he couldn’t quite bring himself to go looking for him. It was nice to have peace and quiet in the office. He didn’t have as much anxiety brewing in his stomach as he usually did when the brunet was invading his personal bubble.
Today marked 21 days since it had happened. Not that he was counting.
Kunikida’s life had been going swimmingly, yes. So, no amount of Dazai ditching work should irk him. Yet, as he dragged his pen through another item on his to-do list, he couldn’t help but wonder. Or worry. Maybe some mixture of the two. Hopefully, he hadn’t gone running off to kill himself. That’d be annoying, but also quite unfortunate. He wished he could muster up some forgiveness before the man went and offed himself. It was difficult. He somehow could see how stubborn he was being. He just needed to move on. It’d do him a lot of good in the long run.
As if his prayers had been answered, Dazai burst through the door, holding a to-go cup and a scone, which he was already munching on.
Kunikida couldn’t help his irritation, “Vending machine, hm?”
“Ahh, yes, you see, Kunikida-kun,” Dazai started, sliding over to sit on his partner’s desk. Crumbs rained down onto his paperwork, and Kunikida tried in vain to swipe them to the floor. “I made it to the hallway and thought, well, since I’m already here, I might as well go get a coffee. And a scone. I was tired and hungry.”
“Are they from downstairs?”
“Yep!”
“Then… you mean to tell me that you lollygagged down there for an hour instead of coming back up here?!”
Dazai paused, then nodded emphatically, taking a big bite out of his pastry. “Want some?” he offered, shoving the half-eaten thing in Kunikida’s face.
“No.”
“You sure? It’s good!”
“I only eat on my lunch break.”
Dazai huffed, looking at the clock. “Oh. Well, that already happened.”
“Exactly.”
A somewhat awkward silence fell between them. Thankfully, with less of its usual sharpness. Their correspondence had deteriorated since everything; their partnership was suffering because of it. Luckily, there hadn’t been much action lately—but it seemed probable that any of their team-ups might’ve ended in screaming matches or cold-shoulders.
Now, it was just back to pure awkward. It was a step up. And soon it dissipated when both of them spoke at the same time:
“I’m sorry.”
Dazai and Kunikida blinked at one another in disbelief, clearly not expecting the sudden declaration from either. Sure, Dazai had apologized a few times, but it came across as lackluster—just words to fill the empty space and pacify Kunikida’s mood. Kunikida, however, had remained dutifully in his grudge. Now, the walls on both sides came crumbling down.
“Oh,” Kunikida blurted first. His face flushed despite himself.
“Yeah,” Dazai let out a sigh. “I wanted to try to say it properly this time. I was doing some thinking…”
“So was I.” Kunikida rubbed the back of his neck. “I think I’ve been a bit harsh on you. I… I know that you didn’t mean for any of that to happen. I guess, in the heat of the moment, I was angry, and—”
“No need for an explanation, Kunikida-kun. I’m not the best at dealing with those types of situations. I could’ve explained myself better.”
Kunikida nodded, staying quiet for a second. “Maybe we both could have done things differently.”
“Mhmm.”
“But, whatever, it’s all in the past now.”
“I’m sorry I ruined your chances with Akutagawa-kun,” Dazai said with a frown.
“Don’t be! It really helped, actually. I was being stupid.” Dazai’s expression twisted up a bit, obviously not believing Kunikida’s insistence. “You showed me that I’d messed up making my ideals.”
“What? I don’t think that’s—”
“No, you did. I took out the list. Been making a new one. I think my Ideal might have changed since I first constructed it, anyway. There’s no way it could include someone like Akutagawa,” he said with a bitter laugh, flipping open his notebook to reveal the still very empty list. Dazai stared down in disbelief, noticing the rips lining the seam.
“You… ripped it out?”
“Yes. No point in letting old mistakes get in the way.”
Dazai slid off the desk and to his feet, staring at Kunikida with an unreadable expression.
“What?” Kunikida’s own face fell. “You don’t believe me?”
“I—think you jumped to conclusions.”
Frowning, Kunikida shut his Ideal. “I think I can handle myself. Look at where your advice got me last time,” he spat, then immediately recoiled at his own tone. “Sorry. I suppose I still have some residual upset. But, yeah, I think I’m going with my gut on this one.”
Silence fell between them once more, Dazai’s mouth falling open in a silent gape. Kunikida just sent him a quizzical look, unsure of what to say about his odd behavior. After a moment of what seemed like silent pondering, Dazai shook his head.
“Understandable, Kunikida-kun.” His gawking turned into his typical jovial smile. “But… now that we’re back on good terms,” he paused to lean over his desk, “would you want to hang out? Just the two of us?”
Kunikida blinked in disbelief. “Oh, sure.” Then with a sudden realization, his face fell. “Unless this is just an excuse to get me to pay for your dinner.”
“Dinner! What a wonderful idea!” Dazai perked up, clapping his hands together. “What if we went somewhere? My treat!”
“Your treat?” Kunikida repeated, doubt evident.
“Yes!”
“Do you even have money, Dazai?”
“Yes, yes, don’t you worry your blonde little head! I’ll pick somewhere cheap if it makes you feel better.”
“I don’t…” Kunikida sputtered for a moment, then regained control of his words. “I don’t have time in my schedule—”
“I haven’t even named a time! How about 7?”
“W-well, I was planning on getting work done—”
“You’ve been doing work all week! You need a break!” Dazai was keen on not letting him finish a sentence. He draped his arms over Kunikida’s shoulders, squeezing him in a half-hug, half-shake. “Sooo, dinner. With me. Friendly, of course~! Don’t get any ideas~!”
“Dazai—”
“So,” Dazai hummed, throwing open one of Kunikida’s desk drawers and pulling out a sticky note and sharpie. “I’ll write the address here, you meet me at 7.” He paused in his writing and pointed the marker at Kunikida. “No later!” he yelled before putting pen to paper again. “It’s a tiny place, you won’t know it. Nice and obscure.”
Kunikida watched Dazai scribble madly. “Why’s it need to be obscure?”
Dazai blinked and stared into space for a moment, then smiled broadly. “For fun!”
Grin not wavering, he slapped the sticky note on Kunikida’s chest. The thin piece of paper clung bravely to his lapel for a moment before fluttering to the floor. Kunikida bent down to pick it up, looking over the sloppy handwriting.
“Dazai, I think this is wrong—!”
The office was devoid of all life. Dazai was gone. Kunikida knit his brow.
He could’ve sworn that this address was for an abandoned building.
But maybe he didn’t know everything like he thought he did.
————————————
Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind,
And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function, and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectively is out.
~
Incapable of more, replete with you,
My most true mind thus makes mine untrue.
————————————
It was drizzling. Kunikida couldn’t help but get a bit pissed.
The sky had darkened considerably over the course of the day, fading into the inky black of the evening. Thunder rumbled distantly on the curtained horizon. It gave the night air a feeling of foreboding, which did not help Kunikida’s growing anxiety.
This address had led him into the not-so-established part of town. By no means was it dangerous, he just had yet to fully regain Dazai’s trust for his scheming. A few times in his walking he’d come to a stop, taken a few steps back, then regained his courage and continued on.
He hadn’t seen any sign of the other man, but that wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary. He’d probably be late. If he even remembered the engagement.
It’d happened a lot before. Back when they were new partners, Kunikida had tried desperately to maintain a professional, civil relationship with the man. This included attempting to hang out in his spare, very spare free-time outside of work. It ended very poorly. Dazai wouldn’t dare to show up unless it was on his dime, and even then it was at least a half-hour late. He wondered how they’d gotten this far. Probably on his own sheer will alone.
His feet slapped angrily on the musty concrete. The rain had seemingly gotten stronger during his internal monologuing. He’d forgotten his umbrella too and had to keep wiping angrily at his bangs or lenses. Oh, if the man was waiting there for him with some disarming grin, there was very little preventing him from throwing a waterlogged punch at his stupid face.
Soon, he came upon the corner of the address. As expected, it was a long-forgotten storefront. The door was bolted up, too, provided no respite from the downpour. Kunikida groaned, ducking into the nearby alleyway. He slipped off his glasses, rubbing at them furiously with his sleeve, hoping to remove some of the raindrop streaks. With his fuzzy vision, he caught sight of another figure at the other end of the lane.
“Dazai, this is total bullshit!” he yelled, slipping his glasses back on. He blinked a few times, waiting for the fog on them to clear up. And then gasped, despite himself.
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke stared back at him, wide-eyed and alarmed.
It felt like eons since he’d seen his face, his spindly silhouette—cloaked in black and rainwater. Despite… everything. Everything he’d thought, said, denied, hoped, wished—despite it all, his breath caught in his throat.
“You,” Akutagawa spat, eyes narrowing, “are not an arms dealer. Unless you were lying about your profession too.”
“Akutagawa, I swear, I didn’t know—!”
“Oh, really. You didn’t?” Akutagawa didn’t even need to scoff out an objection; the spurning expression on his face said enough.
“I know it looks bad, okay. But it was Dazai. Dazai said we were going to meet here to go out, but I guess I shouldn’t have trusted him.” Kunikida groaned, holding his face in his hands before moving them to his hair, worrying at it. “You know how he is,” he pleaded.
He could’ve sworn the mafioso’s expression dwindled for a split second, but soon it returned to his typical glare. Perhaps even a bloodthirsty one. It spoke volumes, volumes detailing that he considered the man before him now an enemy.
“Regardless, I have no desire to be here,” Akutagawa grumbled, whipping around to head out the other side of the alley.
“Wait!” Kunikida protested—purely on reflex. His hand shot out after his retreating figure.
Akutagawa stopped, hands clenched into fists. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t impale you right now.” The tips of his coat glowed red as a clear warning. Kunikida wasn’t about to doubt the threat, anyway.
“Please, just let me explain… what happened. I did a bang-up job trying to explain it that night, and totally ruined everything.”
“I recall there being nothing explained,” Akutagawa replied dryly.
“Exactly,” Kunikida admitted with a sigh. He was surprised to see Akutagawa’s face actually soften. He still looked incredibly tense, but at least he wasn’t running away or actively stabbing him. Progress. “I didn’t know Dazai and Ranpo were there. I swear. On my life. They were hiding in their own lockers, for god’s sake. How was I supposed to know those idiots would stoop so low?
“Anyway, yeah. Dazai said they fell asleep in them, or something… and then came out of them to surprise us or some bullshit. He… he just, uh… really liked that we were getting along. So, I was just really taken aback by the fact that they were there. And that they’d just invade our—your privacy like that. So… I didn’t really get a good grip on myself to say that it wasn’t a setup or something. And… I guess that what you said kinda shocked me into silence.”
Akutagawa stared back at him, unblinking.
“So, I’m sorry. I really am. It probably—no, definitely. It definitely scared the shit out of you. And the last thing that I wanted to do in that moment was make you uncomfortable.”
Akutagawa stayed silent, and Kunikida felt nerves bubbling in his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
Finally, Akutagawa let out a sigh. “Well. If what you say is true. I… could perhaps understand it.”
“It is true.”
There was another pause of silence. Akutagawa looked up and blinked the raindrops off his eyelashes. Kunikida managed a warm smile to hopefully reassure him, but it dissipated when Akutagawa’s own lips tightened up into a frown.
“Please, stop.”
Kunikida was taken aback by the sudden pleading, eyes wide with alarm. “What? Stop what—?”
“Being nice. You’ve toyed with my feelings enough.” Akutagawa pulled his coat tighter around himself, and his voice actually cracked with his next words, “Please, just… just leave me be.”
Kunikida felt his heart jump to his throat. Feelings. Feelings. What did that word mean? Why did he use it? His mind ran a mile a minute. It disentombed what he’d shoved down into the caverns of his mind during the past month with a violent ferocity. His own most ardent emotions returned full-force.
That tone Akutagawa used. It unearthed something so passionate within him. It threatened that he would leave him. Not again. No.
God, what this man did to him. How did he ever think he could ignore it?
“Feelings?” Kunikida echoed, a bit louder than he intended. Akutagawa seemed to stumble back in surprise as if it was an accusation. “Oh, god, you’ve toyed with mine too—but... but not like you think.”
Akutagawa scoffed, his face red with some mixture of embarrassment and anger, probably. “What do you mean by that?!”
Kunikida hadn’t even processed what he’d said. His mental filter had transformed from a sieve to an open doorway. Letting everything rush out in some disgusting, mushy deluge of emotion.
But now, with Akutagawa’s back half turned to him. Really about to walk away for the last time…
It was now. Or never.
“All this time... all the time we’ve spent together. It’s just been building—all because of the book.” Kunikida’s tone softened.
“Book?” Akutagawa repeated in his own whispery tone.
“My Ideal.” Kunikida held up the notebook with a shaky hand, letting the rain soak its precious pages. “It brought me to you.”
Akutagawa stared back at him in awe, obviously unsure of what to make of this. “I… I don’t understand… Kunikida-san—”
“My Ideal has been unchanging since I wrote it. I live my life by it. It details everything I should do, up until I die.
“It’s not just my schedule. It has my morals. My beliefs. What I hold most dear. What I eat. My job. My friends… and my enemies.”
“So, your book told you I was your enemy?” Akutagawa rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you need a piece of paper to understand that.”
“No. Not my enemy.”
“Your archenemy?”
Despite the affectionate anxiety coursing through his veins—or perhaps because of it—Kunikida laughed. He shook his head, fondly smiling. “No, Akutagawa…”
Stunned into silence, the other didn’t offer up any more objections.
Kunikida kept up his devoted staring for a few moments, appreciating the beautifully stunned face before him. It still wasn’t enough to give him coherency. He groaned in frustration. “Ugh, this is so hard!”
“I do not understand.”
Kunikida threw his hands up in the air, then brought them back down to stare accusingly at his notebook. “I threw away the stupid pages that told me it was you, because you met so many of their requirements. I’ve spent the past week trying to forget that you exist, but you’re still occupying all my thoughts. It’s—it’s at the point where I don’t think those ideals even matter. For all the ones you meet, there are some you don’t, you know? Like, I never said I wanted a criminal. Someone broken like I am. Hell, you’re even a smidge too tall. It should make me turn around and never look back, even those minuscule details should put me over the edge on a new search. But, now, none of that even fucking matters because I think that my Ideal is just you. With nothing changed.”
Kunikida let out a rushed breath after his rambling, putting his Ideal away and staring at Akutagawa. He hoped he understood…
“I—what the hell are you trying to say?”
Apparently not.
“Goddamnit, Akutagawa, I’m trying to come up with some coherent way to say I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with you!”
Ah. There it was.
Akutagawa stared back at him, looking more stunned than he had ever seen him—more stunned than what might have been humanly possible. Kunikida never took his eyes off of him, so he could see the blood rise to his cheeks, painting his entire face pink. It even reached the tips of his ears. It was, perhaps, the most beautiful sight known to man. The most ideal.
The mafioso’s mouth dropped open, seemingly trying to form words. But none came out. Over the fall of the rain, he heard something that might have been a guttural gasp. But nothing more. Akutagawa brought a hand up over his mouth, biting at his knuckle and turning his gaze away. As much as Kunikida wanted to engrave this image into his head for the rest of his life, he couldn’t let the man combust.
“I don’t even care what you say back, what your answer is,” Kunikida insisted. “It’s been trapped inside for so long, it just has to get out. I need to tell you.”
“...H-how...?” Akutagawa finally croaked out. (God, it almost tore Kunikida’s heart in two.) “No one can love a piteous creature like me. You have to be lying—another trick—“
“It’s not.”
“How am I to believe you?”
Kunikida laughed, almost bitter with the amount of emotion held behind floodgates. He loved him so much it hurt. It hurt that he would think no one could. He stared over at his face again, seeing his lips, half-hidden behind a pale hand, quiver. Kunikida blurted out his next confession without thinking. “I’d kiss you now, if it wasn’t your first.”
He almost instantly regretted it, watching Akutagawa’s eyes blow up to the size of dinner plates. And seeing his face redden even more. (He didn’t think it was humanly possible at this point.) But, as he opened his mouth to attempt to take it back, Akutagawa’s expression changed. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. It wracked his whole body with a visible shudder.
“Then… then, it will be.” He opened his eyes, gray staring straight into Kunikida’s soul. “Kiss me.”
Kunikida thought he blacked out just then. And totally imagined the words that’d slipped from Akutagawa’s lips. (Those beautiful, pink lips that could both summon a demon and hold his heart hostage with a few soft-spoken words.)
“What?” he asked—very eloquently—for clarification.
“I said, kiss me.”
“....You’re... you’re sure?”
Akutagawa actually rolled his eyes, furiously blushing. “Do it. Before I lose my nerve.”
Paralyzed with excited nerves, Kunikida stayed firmly planted where he was. Perhaps if this were a movie, he would have rushed forward and taken Akutagawa into a passionate kiss that swept him off his feet. But it wasn’t. And he knew the other too well that such an act wouldn’t go down smoothly.
So, he took a cautious step. Then another. Akutagawa remained rigidly still, but never took his eyes off of Kunikida. He was trying so hard. And it made Kunikida’s heart hurt in the best way possible.
A few more shuffling steps and they were face to face. Kunikida raised one hand, keeping his movements as slow and obvious as possible, and cupped Akutagawa’s cheek. It was cold and damp—no thanks to the rain—and he felt the other shiver slightly beneath his fingertips. He paused, tipping his head in a silent inquiry: is this okay?
Akutagawa nodded subtly, and Kunikida was surprised to feel him lean in ever-so-slightly. He took that as enthusiasm, and, with a smile, lightly pressed their lips together.
The kiss was gentle. Slow in the beginning, since Akutagawa stayed still at first. Eventually, he made a small but very much noticeable effort to kiss back—another lean in and head tilt.
Kunikida could not remember the last time he had kissed someone like this—let alone so passionately. He was sure, though, that it had been a goodbye kiss. This one was not. He’d die before he let Akutagawa walk away thinking that it was.
Expecting no more initiative on the other’s part, Kunikida let out a surprised gasp when Akutagawa brought his arms up to embrace him. It was loose, light—and Kunikida eagerly returned it with the same tenderness. If not more.
They finally broke apart, Akutagawa awkwardly gasping for breath.
“Are you alright?” Kunikida asked, concerned. He hadn’t considered his respiratory problems—
Akutagawa nodded, pink dusting his cheeks. “I just… have never done that. I am not used to it.”
Letting out a quiet, good-natured laugh, Kunikida grinned back at him. “I hope you get more used to it. I can help you, if you’d like,” he offered.
Akutagawa blinked up at him, seemingly pondering something before shaking his head to himself.
“What is it?” Kunikida asked with a slight frown.
“Nothing.” Akutagawa let out something that sounded like a snort. “I… was just foolish.”
“How so?”
“I thought… you saw through me. What… what I felt. And—and were just… ridiculing me.” Kunikida opened his mouth to protest, but Akutagawa shook his head. “I see that I was—incorrect.”
“You… were feeling things, too?”
Akutagawa looked to the side, blushing and scoffing under his breath. “I could not put words to it. Nor did I want to. I didn’t expect you to feel… remotely similar.”
“Well,” Kunikida hummed, leaning down slightly to press their foreheads together. “Now you have proof that says otherwise.”
“Th-that I do,” Akutagawa stammered, and it was fucking adorable, and Kunikida wanted to kiss him again. But staying close, arms loosely wrapped around one another in a slight embrace… this was very good too.
Kunikida was quiet for a moment, thinking briefly over how much had changed in but a few minutes. The rain was still beating down heavily on the both of them. Neither seemed to care.
Still, something felt… unresolved. Worry briefly flashed through Kunikida’s mind—had he made a mistake? No, Akutagawa’s small but powerful frame so close to him, willingly close to him, was perhaps the most perfect sensation known to man.
What was it, then? His attention shifted to the weight in his back pocket.
Ah.
“Do you have a pen?” he blurted out.
Akutagawa broke away from his forehead, knitting his brow. “What?”
“A pen?”
“Yes, I heard you—why?”
“You’ll see.”
Akutagawa dug around in his pockets the best he could with Kunikida’s arms around him, hands trembling with residual nerves and excitement. Surprising both of them, he produced a ballpoint pen from the inside of his coat.
“I do,” he answered softly, still looking up at him in disbelief.
Kunikida let one of his arms loose from the embrace, reaching into his own back pocket for his Ideal. He deftly flipped to the page he was looking for, ignoring the raindrops now saturating the paper.
The numbers were still there. 1 to 58.
The unfinished list.
“Sign your name?”
He meant for it to come out as a statement, but his still thrumming heart and lingering insecurity held back any courage. He tried to smile reassuringly when Akutagawa returned the question with a confused, narrow-eyed stare. But the latter still twirled the pen in his hand, clicking it once, and wrote down the characters of his name in his pretty penmanship next to the first number. Kunikida turned the book back toward himself, smiling broadly.
It looked so perfect there. So very right.
“Okay. What was that for?”
“It’s like I said, you’re my Ideal, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.”
Something very beautiful happened then. Akutagawa stared back up, wide eyes glistening in the moonlight, not from rain. His breath hitched audibly, and he squeezed his eyes shut again—teardrops rolling down his already wet cheeks.
Kunikida’s own eyes went wide, and he reflexively reached up to brush them away. “None of that, hey?”
“I-it’s… quite impossible when you say things like that.”
“Well, you deserve to hear them,” Kunikida insisted, smiling brightly.
Akutagawa let out a bittersweet laugh, shaking his head and wiping his face with his sleeve. “That does not help.”
Unable to wipe the smile off his face, Kunikida squeezed Akutagawa tightly. It was a brief but intense hug; he could feel the other flail a bit before awkwardly returning the embrace. And somehow, that slight hesitation made it so much more beautiful. He knew then that he was going to give this man all the affection that had been locked away from him—until its familiarity didn’t bring him to tears. Until he felt comfortable to perhaps murmur sweet nothings in return.
But Kunikida didn’t mind waiting. He’d been waiting for 22 years. What was a few more?
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Kunikida slid out of Akutagawa’s grip, only to immediately offer him a hand. Blushing, Akutagawa took it, interlacing their fingers.
The rain trickled to a drizzle, then a mist, seemingly in a matter of seconds as the two continued their walk down the empty twilight streets. Calming peace in a bustling city. The sun would show his head tomorrow, brightly shining upon their story.
Not of woe. No, far from it.
————————————
Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
————————————
FIN.