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Kunikida only cried once in front of Dazai.
No matter what, the man always had his act together. His two moods would either be calm or furious. He was either working quietly at his desk or chewing Dazai out for another one of his stupid pranks. But, it wasn’t like Kunikida was emotionless. He smiled, he laughed, he showed affection (in private), he got scared, and he even got sad. But Dazai has only seen Kunikida cry once in the entirety of their partnership.
It started with a phone call that lasted about forty-five seconds.
“Kunikida, I need you for something.”
“No, I’m not watching Cinderella with you aga–”
“No. It’s not that.”
“I’m not falling for it, I always come over there and you’re doing something like–”
“No. It’s serious.”
Brief pause. “What did you do now? Are you stuck in a trashcan again?”
No answer.
“Dazai?”
“I can’t say.”
“I’ll be over there soon.”
In less than ten minutes, Dazai hears Kunikida rush into his apartment and begin to call out for him, saying “if he ate another mushroom, he’s dead meat.” It’s a little embarrassing that the first place Kunikida looks for him is his bathroom, but that’s where Dazai is; sitting on the edge of the bathtub, holding onto it with a tight grip, looking down into his lap with an unreadable expression, his brow furrowed as he tried to keep his breath steady. Bloodstained bandages loosely hug his arms, like they were done in a hurry. His shirt is hardly even buttoned, it looks like it was thrown on at the last minute.
“Dazai!”
Kunikida still sounds so far away. Dazai barely registers the blond man saying his name or grabbing his shoulder to get his attention.
“Dazai, look at me, what the hell did you do?” Kunikida demands and shakes Dazai’s shoulder. He sits down on the rim of the bathtub, next to his partner, and asks again. “What happened?”
Dazai finally looks up and meets a wide-eyed Kunikida. “What does it look like I did?” He responds, his tone equally as unreadable.
Kunikida is about to berate and say that’s not an answer, but the empty look in Dazai’s brown eyes confirms the mutual agreement between them; neither of them want to truly say or dwell on what happened, Dazai just needs help. Within seconds he’s rummaging through the bathroom cabinets and pulls out a roll or two of bandages, a cloth, and peroxide. He can feel Dazai’s gaze on him, watching his every move, and he feels mild shame cake his heart. I shouldn’t have shouted, that’s not what he needs. I need to be more careful. No one else is here, I don’t have to put my guard up.
“Dazai, let me see.” Kunikida sits beside Dazai again and is lazily handed his partner’s right arm. Dazai won’t even look at me. Kunikida carefully sheds Dazai of his shirt and bandages. As he unravels Dazai, he eyes the uncountable scars, old and new, littered all over his arm from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder.
“Careful,” Dazai mumbles. “Some of them are still open.” He’s right. Once his arm is unwrapped, there’s the slight yet pungent aroma of blood.
Aside from the occasional “Hold still,” followed by wincing due to the peroxide, there’s not much conversation between the two of them. What is there to say? The same, boring speech about how it won’t solve anything, he’ll regret it in the future, and how he needs to talk to Kunikida the next time he feels like doing this. It’s been repeated to the point of memorization, but now Kunikida barely even knows what to say, where to begin, how to convince Dazai to talk to him. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work. I shouldn’t be lost on what to say. I can’t even remember my same speech as usual. Even if I did, my throat is so tight I wouldn’t say it anyway. Why can’t I say anything?
When bandaging his other arm, Kunikida squeezes Dazai’s hand and is given a squeeze in return. It soothes his worries a little, but not a lot, Dazai’s not completely far gone. After checking Dazai for any other scars and silently thanking God for not finding any, Kunikida redresses Dazai, or at least attempts to. His fingers can’t get a proper hold on the buttons of Dazai’s shirt, and he grits his teeth in frustration.
“Kunikida.”
The blonde looks up at Dazai, who gently caresses his hand in a silent request to stop. “You’re shaking,” says Dazai, his voice quiet.
Kunikida breaks right there. It starts off small with Kunikida pursing his lips together in a failed effort to keep it together. Don’t cry, don’t cry, he tells himself in his head, over and over, as he hastily wipes away the tears that build up in his eyes. But once they start, they don’t stop. Tears start to fill and drip from his eyes, as if these tears were making up for all the times he wanted to cry but never did. He hardly sobs, his pride won’t allow him to, but when he does they come out quietly; stealthily.
Within seconds of Kunikida crying, Dazai lunges forward and the two of them hold each other in a hug that’s tight as they can manage without either suffocating each other or making Dazai’s wounds sting. It’s what Kunikida needs, and it’s definitely what Dazai needs. Kunikida swears he can feel Dazai gently twitch with his own quiet sobs.
In honesty, Kunikida doesn’t know why he’s crying. Maybe it’s the pain of seeing Dazai, a man who was so incredibly dumb yet he loved with all of his life, in such an empty state of mind. Maybe it’s the awful sight of the fresh scars on Dazai’s arms lingering in his mind. Maybe it’s other outside factors. All Kunikida knows is that he can’t stop, and he refuses to let go of Dazai. The both of them don’t offer any words, they just hug each other until they stop shaking and play with the other’s hair until a majority of their tears stem off.
“Dazai.” Kunikida is the first to speak. “No more of this. Please.”
Dazai thinks up a witty retort, but he bites his tongue. He normally rebukes when Kunikida gives him a drawn out speech in his typical stern attitude, but this time was different. The few words spoken had true sincerity behind them, despite Kunikida’s voice being slightly hoarse. The amazing-quality hugs that Kunikida gave him were just a bonus.
The brunette melts into Kunikida’s chest and takes a deep breath. “I’ll try,” he murmurs. “I don’t know. But I’ll try.”
“That’s all I want.” Kunikida spreads his fingers throughout Dazai’s hair to leave a kiss on the top of his head, a very soft I love you is wrapped within the kiss.
He’s not too good with affection, but it makes Dazai smile, and that’s all Kunikida can ask for.