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Atsushi steps into office puffing heat into his frozen palms. It’s his own fault, really—Kyouka had warned him about the numbing frost and the merciless wind. She’d even brought out his winter gear for him to wear. And he couldn’t even sprint to work to warm himself up, otherwise risking slipping and falling on ice and snow.
As if fingerless gloves were enough to keep his fingers from freezing off. He can barely keep himself still from all the shivering.
He looks up from his hands, expecting to find his co-workers running around and about, grumbling about the cold and work that is yet to be completed. Well, that’s mostly Kunikida. Nevertheless, he hadn’t expected the office to be so empty. Atsushi knew he was on the late side, but usually it’d be more crowded in the morning, even if not everyone had to report that day.
“Hello?” He calls tentatively. It’s weird, if not downright suspicious. Maybe a big emergency came up that required all of their immediate attention? Goosebumps prickle on his skin, although probably a product of the cold.
“Hey, Atsushi-kun, over here!” A voice replies—Dazai. Atsushi approaches the direction it comes from and finds himself standing in front of the couches. Dazai’s hunched over, instead of laying spread out on the length of the couch, lazing around with a book. His coat is off, draped over the armrest.
Atsushi catches a faint crackling noise and follows Dazai’s sleeved arm, to the bandages peeking out from them to nimble fingers hovering in front of an—electric fireplace?
“Since when do we have an electric fireplace?”
Dazai shrugs. “It was here when I came in.”
Atsushi lowers himself on the seat beside him, peering at the flames behind the frame of glass. It’s one of those electric hearths that don’t need to be built in. “Does it actually work?” He asks, reaching out to the light. Heat radiates off the thing and Atsushi sighs in delight.
He adjusts his position on the couch, stretching towards the fire, and his hand brushes against Dazai’s. It leaves an unnaturally warm spot there and Dazai hisses at the difference in temperature. “Damn, your hands are really cold, Atsushi-kun. Forgot to wear any gloves?”
“I should listen to the weathercast more often,” Atsushi smiles sheepishly. Blood rises to his cheeks in embarrassment. He notes, briefly, that Dazai doesn’t pull his hands away. “How about you? Actually, what are you doing here? Where’s the rest?”
“I know that the Tanizaki siblings are escorting Ranpo-san on a case and Kenji-kun’s out to get Christmas decorations and whatnot. Oh! I think Yosano-sensei dragged Kunikida-kun out for some winter shopping.”
Atsushi winces. “Poor Kunikida-san.”
“I heard you’ve had your fair share of shopping with Yosano-sensei too and you survived too, right?”
Atsushi snorts. “Hardly. So, no emergencies?”
“Not that I know of,” Dazai answers, shaking his head. “Less cases overall, too. It seems like the holiday cheer is getting to criminals.”
“If only it’d stay like that for the rest of the year, too,” Atsushi sighs. Dazai laughs and agrees, something about having to do less work and having Kunikida complain over him less.
Eventually Atsushi’s eyes stray back to the flickering fire. They slip in a state of mutual, but relaxed silence. Slowly but surely, he can feel his limbs returning to a more natural state of being. He wriggles his fingers, trying to see how much he can do with them now that they’re not as good as frozen anymore.
Something tugs at his tie, slightly pulling him towards the left, towards Dazai.
Atsushi looks down, where Dazai’s right hand is clumsily trying to slither under the collar of his white shirt to smoothen the fabric of his tie there. “Uhhhh…” He looks back and Dazai is closer than expected.
Dazai’s hand retracts quickly, as if struck by lightning. “Your tie was, ah, a bit on the messy side so I wanted to fix it…” His tone is half-stumbling, as if he hasn’t had enough time to prepare himself for what he wanted to say.
“Um,” Atsushi says, feeling like his tongue is made of cotton candy instead of… whatever it’s made of. He regains his senses and more importantly, his manners soon enough. “Yes, thank you, Dazai-san.” He smiles at him for good measure.
His heart feels like stopping at the half-smile Dazai returns, in a good way. “No problem, Atsushi-kun,” he replies, and then returns his hands to the front of the fireplace. The flames are still dancing in their confinement, the picture-perfect of an indoor winter mood. Atsushi nearly wants to suggest they get a cup of hot chocolate.
There’s a load of work waiting for him, though, a day of typing away on his laptop that awaits him. Reports, paperwork and answering e-mails… But he really wants to stay, here, next to Dazai. Make small-talk or don’t even say anything at all. It doesn’t even matter. He just wants to linger.
In a split-second decision he stands up anyway. Dazai glances at him, a curious look on his face. “You’re warmed up already?”
“Yeah! A lot.” That was true, despite the goosebumps still tingling on his skin, but Atsushi felt like staying. Besides, the rest of his limb could use a little more heat, but that would mean he’ll have to wrap himself around the hearth. “I should probably get starting with paperwork.”
Dazai shakes his head, smiling, and tugs him into the seat beside him again. This time they’re thigh to thigh. Dazai’s clothed legs nudge against his bare ankles. “There’s no need to do paperwork while there’s no one to reprimand us, Atsushi-kun. It could take hours before the rest are back.”
Atsushi allows Dazai to sit him down again, swallowing. Dazai’s knee bumps against his teasingly. “Some of us have a sense of responsibility, Dazai-san,” he replies, even if he isn’t quite fulfilling said responsibility right now and doesn’t feel like doing it either.
Dazai leans in challengingly. “Yeah, and? What are you implying, that I don’t?”
Atsushi ponders over the most respectful way to tell him, and then remembers he doesn’t really care at the moment. “Not really.”
Dazai pouts. “That’s mean, Atsushi-kun.”
“Maybe if you did your paperwork Kunikida-san would be less mean,” Atsushi comments dryly.
“I haven’t got the time to go through such drastic measures,” Dazai replies, sighing melodramatically. Atsushi has by this time learned that Dazai mostly does what he does to coax a reaction out of Kunikida. A little childish, if not a lot. He’s tried to get Dazai to lessen, mostly with sarcastic jabs and comments. Believe it or not, but Atsushi’s been seeing slight progress.
“You do, Dazai-san, you do.” And because he’s feeling comfortable, he adds, “you’re just lazy.”
“You don’t know that!” Dazai protests, and glances at the hearth, and then outside, peeping through the clear spots of the window. He looks back and grins. “I daresay that’s very… cold of you to say.”
Atsushi can’t help but emit a huff of laughter at the pun. “You’re kidding, right? Kunikida-san has called you way worse than just ‘lazy’.”
Dazai smiles, something less playful, but not unkindly. Not unkindly at all. “But you haven’t.”
“No, I guess I haven’t,” Atsushi replies slowly, caught off guard by the change of sphere. His arms have long dropped from the heat of the fire, but he doesn’t feel any less warm. “Your virtues outweigh your sins, I suppose.”
Dazai’s eyes widen, and then he lowers his head, so the shadow of his hair falls over his eyes. It’s subtle.
“They really don’t,” he murmurs.
A lump forms in Atsushi’s throat, and it’s like the warmth and comfort from before, the jabbing and teasing and chatting—and that gentle look in Dazai’s eyes—seeps away before his eyes. He can’t find to seem the right words to settle back in that bubble.
“They do,” Atsushi ends up replying, so softly he’s nearly whispering.
Dazai chuckles, and Atsushi wishes he couldn’t hear that terribly empty note in it. He slightly shakes his head, and before he speaks, he hesitates. “You’re—you’re too kind, Atsushi-kun, if you’re not careful it’ll hurt you.”
“I’ve been told so before, but I’d rather not be unkind or mean to someone who doesn’t deserve it,” Atsushi says, staring pointedly at Dazai.
“And if they are? If they do deserve it?”
“I’d still prefer to avoid it, if only for the sake of avoiding conflict. But that’s not the point.”
“Is it not?” Dazai asks mockingly. Atsushi ignores it, although his fists clench in his lap. And then he can’t stand it anymore. He places his hand on Dazai’s shoulder and pulls at him until they’re facing each other, knee against knee, sitting on the edge of the cushions.
“Your virtues outweigh your sins, Dazai-san,” Atsushi repeats firmly. “If that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t be here with you today. A lot of people wouldn’t be here today.”
Dazai inhales through his mouth, slumping back in the sofa, his eyes hidden by his hair again. “Whatever you say, Atsushi-kun.”
Atsushi nods, even though he’s not sure whether Dazai sees him. “Yeah…” He mutters awkwardly. He thinks back to the time they went to a hot spring and Dazai had made him ochazuke. And then he thinks about what he said there—about how grateful he felt towards Dazai and about how Dazai had apparently fallen asleep.
He sits up a little straighter, restlessly beginning to drum his fingers on the surface of his thighs. “Uh, Dazai-san?” He asks, to check whether he’s still tuned in.
“Mm?”
“I just want you to know that despite how annoying and all the shenanigans you pull you are, I really like you.” He keeps his hands clenched on his lap, in order to avoid making grand gestures. “You have a lot of great traits and you’ve done a lot for me and most of your pranks are kinda stupid but some of them are also very funny. I’m incredibly glad I’ve met you and I wouldn’t want anyone else but you, so, so…”
And then Dazai cups his cheeks with palms and pulls him towards his face. In the seconds that feel like a lifetime, Dazai brushes his thumb across his underlip. From so close, Atsushi swears he can see gold in Dazai’s eyes. His hands are so comfortable, warm and heavy on his cheeks.
Atsushi can’t move away from it, even when Dazai leans down and kisses him. His chapped mouth pressed against his own, Dazai’s tongue swiping at his underlip. Atsushi isn’t sure whether he’s pressing back, kissing back.
He also can’t move when Dazai pulls away. He can’t register anything that happens, how he looks and what he says. The only thing that seems real is Dazai’s hand that’s dropped to the crook of his neck, cradling him there. His thumb is absentmindedly stroking the line of his jaw, where neck meets face.
“You… you kissed me,” Atsushi says, dazed, when his lips feel like they can move again. Before Dazai can reply, however, his eyes widen, and he sucks in a breath, eyes widening to the size of cups. “You kissed me!?” He gasps.
Dazai hands move away from him and he blinks. “Yes, I thought you—when you said—”
“Wait, I—I meant that as… it wasn’t… I didn’t mean it like that, it was just…” Atsushi trails off, feeling weak with—whatever he’s feeling.
“It was just…?” Dazai asks, an octave higher than usual, although his face is carefully blank.
“It was just as, uh, colleagues or something!”
“Colleagues,” Dazai echoes. He closes his eyes and drags a hand down his face. “Colleagues,” he repeats.
“Dazai-san, I—”
“—I need to go,” Dazai interrupts, standing up and practically snatching his coat off the armrest. He forces his arms through the sleeves while he stalks away. “Kunikida-kun probably needs me.”
Atsushi can’t do anything but to watch him walk off and continue staring until even the echo of his footsteps has long disappeared. When it’s just him, frost forming on the windows and the sound of fire popping and a feeling in his stomach that can be described as warm and cold at the same time.
“Where’s Dazai-san?” Atsushi dares to ask a few hours after coming in office, his fingers worn by the endless typing on his laptop. His lips still tingle, sometimes, and he doesn’t think he’s slept much.
Ranpo shrugs. “Not here, apparently. He said something about taking an early holiday break.”
Kunikida looks around, lips pursed in thought. He peers into the hallway, into the cracks between pillars, outside the frost-covered windows where the city is being blanketed by layers of white. He even takes a glance at the space under the desks that have been pulled aside for the occasion.
“Where’s Dazai?” He asks, mostly to Atsushi.
Atsushi stiffens as Kunikida nudges him, uncomfortably aware of his heart beating in his chest. “I—I wouldn’t know, Kunikida-kun,” he replies, stuttering, but earnestly. He makes circular motions with his wrist, watching the water in his wineglass swirl around. He hasn’t seen Dazai since, well, the kiss. “I think he’s at home, still celebrating his self-assigned holiday?”
“You should go get him, now that it’s stopped snowing and it’s not too dark outside,” Kunikida suggests, his eyes hidden as he adjusts his glasses. “He’s missing the party. You’d think Dazai, of all people, would love those.” This isn’t the first time Dazai bailed out on office parties.
Atsushi hopes Kunikida can’t see the panic through the white glint on his glasses. “Me? Why?” He raises his voice a bit, so he can be heard over Kenji rising the volume Christmas music.
He can just imagine how it’ll go—hey Dazai-san, Kunikida-san says you have to go to the office party, so will you please come with me? Oh, by the way, we shared a super nice kiss that we’ve never gotten around to properly talk about. We should totally do that again and I really hope you don’t hate me or anything!
Atsushi bites on his tongue. Maybe that wasn’t the reason for Dazai’s disappearance, and he’s making it bigger than it is. It wouldn’t be too weird if Dazai was long over it already, and just spontaneously decided that showing up at work isn’t even necessary because the lack of jobs to do.
Kunikida rolls his eyes and sighs. “Because he’ll be more likely to listen to you than me.”
To that Atsushi is quiet at first, dumbstruck. “Does Dazai-san listen to anyone, though?” He wonders out loud.
Kunikida ponders about this for a few seconds and turns out his notebook to furiously jot something down. “Fine. Unfortunately, he doesn’t. But you’re still our best bet,” he eventually argues.
“Actually, I’m sure Dazai-san would listen to the director,” Atsushi counters, because he really doesn’t want to go. He wants to see Dazai, yes, of course he wants to. But it’s going to be awkward, so, so awkward. He’ll end up mentioning the kiss, or Dazai brings it up, and then it’ll be like, you kissed me, yes, very cool, you don’t hate me, right? before falling into painful silence.
Kunikida gives him the most unamused stare he can muster in the jolly mood, which is arguably not very different from any other mood. Atsushi sighs. “Okay, maybe we shouldn’t send the president but…” He quietens, failing to find a reason why he shouldn’t go without sound like a brat whining about how someone else could go too.
“…But you should at least try,” Kunikida finishes, pushing him towards the door with a hand on his shoulder. “And don’t come back until you’ve really tried. Don’t forget to wear a scarf.”
Atsushi gulps, but before he can get any more protests out, he’s already standing in the hallway, Christmas music blaring mutely from behind the door.
With clammy hands he knocks on Dazai’s door, the thuds muffled by his gloves. He’s finally here, after navigating himself through the frost-bound paths and streetlamp lit darkness to the Agency dorms. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking out the fresh snow. That’s what you get when you forget your cap. Fortunately, he did remember to wear his warmest clothes.
He wills himself to calm down and especially, furiously, hopes Dazai won’t be able to hear his heart threatening to beat right outside his chest when he comes to open the door. He purposefully does not think of a pair of lips meeting his own and focuses on the hope of a positive reaction.
“No one’s home,” Dazai calls lazily through the thin walls. Maybe expecting Dazai to open the door is too much asked.
Atsushi sighs, leaning his forehead on the door, which is surprisingly cooler than the temperature his exposed forehead has adapted to. He inadvertently shivers. “Dazai-san,” he says, and then there’s some noises from inside. He clears his throat and tests the waters. “It’s me, Atsushi. Kunikida-san wants you to come to the party.”
It’s silent on the other side for a long, very long time. Atsushi fears for a moment that it could be true, that Dazai did in fact hate him after the whole ordeal and never wanted to talk to him again.
“You can tell him I would really love to go, but I’m really busy right now,” Dazai replies.
“With what?” Atsushi inquires.
“Paperwork.”
“Uh-huh,” Atsushi hums sceptically, mourning the likelihood of that. He nearly feels like Kunikida, at that point. “And at the same time Santa Clause is real, and the president doesn’t like cats,” he mutters under his breath.
“In a world full of magical, supernatural ability users,” Dazai responds, having heard it still. The walls can be that thin, apparently. “Is it so strange to imagine a man dressed in red and white riding a sleigh pulled by magical, flying reindeers?” Atsushi can hear the faux conviction ringing in his voice.
Atsushi smiles, despite himself. “You don’t have to come to the party, for whatever reasons,” he says softly, “but we’d really like it if you’d come.”
It’s quiet on the other side. As far as Atsushi can hear, Dazai is standing up, cursing loudly as he trips over some glass-like ornament and lands in his hallway with a stumble. “As for the president not liking cats.” Dazai seems to have collected himself by the time he opens the door. “That’s very unlikely indeed.”
Atsushi doesn’t realize how warm he’s been becoming with the comfortable chatter until Dazai is standing there, his coat curled over his arm. How much he had missed Dazai when he was absent. And it doesn’t seem like he hates him, either.
“H—Hi Dazai-san,” he greets, finding focus in a piece of fluff on Dazai’s sweater rather than his face.
“Hello, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai greets back, simply.
“Um.” Atsushi rubs his hands together before lifting his gaze to Dazai’s. “Are you going to join us?”
“I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of standing up and grabbing my coat if I hadn’t,” Dazai responds, the ends of his mouth twitching into a grin. A mouth that had kissed Atsushi—wait, wrong collection of thoughts.
And then it hits them that there’s no mention of that occurrence at all. Not even a slight hint that it happened and affected him from Dazai. Atsushi sucks in a relieved breath. Apparently, it hadn’t been such a big deal for Dazai as it had been for him. All those sleepless nights, picking apart events he can’t explain until sunrise, were unnecessary as can be.
And for some reason, this causes his heart to sink to his stomach, disappoints him greatly.
Atsushi backs away and smiles sheepishly for lingering too long, as if Dazai can read his mind. “Good,” he admits. “That went easier than expected.”
Dazai shrugs noncommittally, sliding on his leather gloves as they descend the stairs to the pavement. “It’d be a shame if you Kunikida-kun sent you out in this cold and I ended up making a fuss and you went out for nothing.”
Atsushi arches a brow, hopping over a brown slush where half-molten snow has mixed with dirt and grass. Absentmindedly, he adjusts his scarf, sinking back into the fabric. “But you like making a fuss.”
“When it bothers Kunikida-kun? Definitely.”
The wind is crisp and biting in his face, especially at this hour, and he has to squint in order to make anything out of the sidestep that blends with road in terms of colour. He just hopes it won’t snow more now, because he’d hate to come to the party with more than just a chill in his bones.
Like unleashing the jinx because you’re thinking about said thing, the night sky lets a flood of snowflakes descend over them. Atsushi groans. Why couldn’t it be a peaceful winter night sky, with twinkling stars and a bright moon?
“Let’s hurry up,” he tells Dazai, taking up his pace a notch. “Nothing is fun with wet socks.”
“Atsushi-kun, hold up,” Dazai calls. Atsushi looks back by the light of a streetlamp, and concern glows in Dazai’s eyes. He reluctantly slows down until Dazai’s next to him again. “It could be slippery, you know. I’d hate it if I had to carry you to the Agency all by myself.”
“That’s fair,” Atsushi relents, and also briefly wonders what it’s like to be carried by Dazai. A thought he cuts off right away. He falls into an agonizingly slow stride besides Dazai, grumbling about wet clothes and the time it takes to dry up in this weather. He wraps his arms around him, trying to keep the sub-zero temperatures at bay.
Dazai smiles at him, gently, and a split second later that expression is gone. “I thought tigers liked the water,” he comments. Atsushi can hear the note of excitement in his voice.
“They do,” Atsushi replies slowly, he keeps Dazai in his eye, trying to anticipate the following cat-related joke. “But I am not a tiger right now,” he says, gesturing to himself when Dazai doesn’t respond.
“Whatever you say, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai answers seriously, looking straight ahead. Atsushi can see his lips curling upwards from his side profile, though. And then his eyes are drawn to the brown curls shaping themselves towards his jaw. It’s his next self-assigned job to not stare too long.
“Yeah, yeah,” Atsushi mutters, half too distracted and half too focused on things he shouldn’t be focused as of now. “That’s what they all—woah!”
He steps onto a frozen puddle of water, crying out as he loses his footing. His heart skips a beat and shoots up to his throat at the same time while he has to grab for air. He has to imagine the splitting pain of hitting the sturdy ground, one experienced far too often, and hopes the layers of snow will break the fall.
No such thing happens, however. He’s caught, landing in Dazai’s arms with a soft ‘ah’. Dazai’s wrap around his waist, pulling him up again, spinning him out of harm’s way until he’s flat against Dazai’s body. He looks up, wide-eyed, and Dazai stares back.
A snowflake flutters onto Dazai’s lashes, melting into a waterdrop. There’s a fine, white line running above Dazai’s eyebrows, faint, a scar Atsushi hadn’t yet noticed, and he holds onto his shoulders a little tighter. He’ll say it’s only for the sake of not falling down.
Atsushi should say something, he really should say something he doesn’t know to say, the nearness makes it hard to think and he tries not to point out he’s been eating candy canes. He can smell the sweetness in his breath, blowing over his face. A shiver runs down his spine.
(He’s too traitorous—the last time they had been in such proximity, Dazai had kissed Atsushi and Atsushi wants to him to do it again. His eyes lower to Dazai’s mouth, slightly agape, a little blue from the cold, looking as chapped as Atsushi remembered. If he dips down, if he comes a little closer, they’ll be—)
“Are you okay?” Dazai asks tensely, breaking the silence. He moves backwards, breaking contact, and Atsushi digs his heels into the snow, pretending it’s not suddenly colder than it should be.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Atsushi answers, surprisingly collected. “Thank you for, uh, catching me. I’ll be more careful the next time."
“Good,” Dazai replies, pushing his hands in his pockets. He seems neither here or there, until he is and smiles, painfully wide. “That’s good,” he repeats, and turns on his heel. Atsushi just follows him, watching out to not step on ice again.
The office falls into sight and Atsushi's muscles ease with relief. Soon he’ll be out of the cold, into the warm atmosphere with hot cocoa and many people to distract himself with. He’s sure Kyouka would offer him some of the candies Ranpo gave her earlier. The office building creeps closer, and he’s still in his head somewhere with red-and-white mints.
Their little slip-up back then is absolutely nothing to be pondering about. Not at all. Again, as with the kiss, Dazai surely isn’t thinking about and neither should Atsushi. Goodness, he’s been thinking about that kiss so many times he should probably give it a capital k.
“Oh!” Atsushi nearly walks into the Dazai but doesn’t risk falling as he dodges Dazai’s unmoving form, thankful for Kunikida’s insistence to clean the entrance to the Agency a few hours back. There’s nothing now but a paper-thin sheet of snow.
He brushes snow out of his damp hair, but the longer they’re going to linger here, the more will cake atop his head. “Is something the matter?” He asks, peering into the ribbed glass and finding nothing but a quiet, lit hallway.
His eyes travel upwards and then, dangling in front of him just a few inches above the window section of the door, a mistletoe.
And everyone knows what mistletoes are for, even Atsushi. The green leaves are nearly mocking him.
Atsushi cranes his head around the corner, light and music bursting forth from the windows of their office, but no one to know they’ve got a mistletoe hanging right in front of them. He laughs nervously at Dazai and gestures towards the ornament. “We can just, like, ignore this, right?”
“Oh, yeah, totally.” There’s a pause. “We’ll just pretend we didn’t notice it if someone asks.”
“Yes,” Atsushi agrees, and stiffly reaches out to twist the doorknob, frozen over with a thin layer of ice. “I’m really sure it wasn’t here when I left, though.”
Dazai’s hands come to rest atop of his forearm. “Atsushi-kun?”
Atsushi’s hand comes to hover above the doorknob and his heartrate picks up pace. “Yes?”
He can hear Dazai taking a deep breath before he speaks. “Can we talk for a moment, before we go in?”
“Sure,” Atsushi answers slowly, moving his hand away from the doorknob and turning to face Dazai. “What do you want to talk about?” He inquires, trying to sound as neutral as he can be.
“About, you know, the last time I saw you.” Atsushi freezes and Dazai continues, awkwardly. “When I kissed you.”
“Y—Yes,” Atsushi forces out, suddenly finding it hard to look at Dazai. “We’re still cool, right?”
Dazai looks a bit perplexed, but he collects himself soon enough and hastily nods. “Yes, yes, of course we are but I’m not really sure why that question would be coming out of your mouth rather than mine.”
“No, uh, reason,” Atsushi responds. He fiddles with a button his sweater. “Just wanted to make sure.”
“Okay, well, that pretty much covers much what I wanted to say,” Dazai says, wringing his hands together. Atsushi feels comfortable enough to smile at him.
Dazai bites his lip. “Actually, it’s not. I still need to tell you one more thing—Atsushi-kun,” he begins, and his voice wavers slightly before determination settles in his eyes and he goes on. “Atsushi-kun, the truth is I’m—I’m in love with you.”
Suddenly all Atsushi can see are the snowflakes drifting and tumbling down, burying the earth in its colour. Warmth pulsates under his skin, hot in comparison to the rest, his veins throb and everything falls into pieces.
“You’re… you’re in love with me?” Atsushi echoes, disbelieving.
Dazai lifts his head to the sky, and Atsushi suspects it’s not for admiring the night. “Yeah, I mean, I kissed you and all.”
Atsushi opens his mouth and then closes it again, frowning. “…That makes so much more sense, actually.”
“Yes—I mean, wait, what? Atsushi-kun, why else would I have kissed you?” A faint, amused smile appears on Dazai’s face.
“That’s the part I’ve just figured out,” Atsushi answers, half-smiling back, but a frown soon climbs his face. “But about what I said, back then, you do know that I wasn’t… rejecting you?”
“You weren’t.” It’s not much of a question, rather a statement, a verification
Atsushi rocks back and forth on his heel. “Look, back then, I was just shocked. I hadn’t told you all those things because I wanted you to kiss me. I mean, I kinda do, but I didn’t say all that to get you to kiss me.”
Dazai grins. “So, not necessarily at that moment, but at other moments, you did want to kiss me?”
“You’re cutting straight to the point, huh?” Atsushi looks away, flustered, but also very happy. He is unable to keep it for himself anymore, if he had even properly admitted it to himself. “Yes, Dazai-san, I did.”
Dazai hums, taking a step in his direction. His eyes shine. “And do you want it to happen right now?”
Atsushi ponders over this for a moment, and inclines towards the mistletoe. “Well, we do a task to fulfil, don’t we? Then we don’t have to lie if anyone asks...”
Dazai loops his arm around Atsushi’s waist and pulls him in close again, smiling down at him. His free hand cups his face, his thumb stroking circles into Atsushi’s cheek. This time, it’s Atsushi who leans forward and kisses him, and it’s like everything he remembered and like nothing else he’s experienced before.