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Kunigami was too young to go to jail.
He was doing too well to go to jail. He had just got a promotion at his job—starting Monday he would be crunching numbers for the big leagues—and he was a damned newlywed; (granted, he and Kuon were married for about six months but still—it was new to him . There were shoes with a longer lifespan than his marriage) he knew that him and Kuon promised that they would be there for each other “till death do us part” but Kunigami was sure that third degree murder was probably a serious violation of their vows.
He had it all, and now everything was going to end because he had to act like a fucking lunatic and stab some mophead twenty year old who probably just wanted their TV and some cash.
Alright. This is fine. I can handle this.
He looked at his phone, nodding at the time. 6:28. Kuon was supposed to be home at a quarter to seven, which meant that Kunigami had roughly 15 minutes to hide a body, clean the floors, take a shower and somehow squeeze in some time to puke and cry. He has cleaned up messes before; (granted, they were small messes like a broken glass or a spilled bottle but still—it was a liquid) it should be no big deal.
Kunigami felt his heart drop as he heard the door handle jiggle, signaling that Kuon was home.
Shit. He’s early.
He was screwed. There was no way that he could hide the body in the six seconds that it would take Kuon to open the door; it was at least 180 pounds, and even if Kunigami was stronger there was nowhere he could think to hide him. It’s really funny how now is the time when you decide to be on time for things , he thought bitterly. Kunigami leaned against the wall—probably getting blood all over that too—and closed his eyes, waiting for Kuon to open the door.
It was all over for him, and to think that he thought his life was just picking up.
Though his eyes were closed (Kunigami hoped that maybe if he thought hard enough he could just remove himself from the situation completely like he was Saiki K or something. It didn't work, obviously) he could hear Kuon walk into their apartment and close the door, locking it behind him.
“So what happened here?”
Kunigami looked up at Kuon wildly, frantically motioning to the dead body with his arms. Kuon made an “o” with his lips before walking over to the body and turning it face up with his foot, squatting down to access the damage.
“He’s dead.”
“I could assume that much,” Kunigami said, wiping away the tears that were starting to swell at the corners of his eyes. He wasn't sure why but Kuon hadn't snapped at him or called the police yet—it was actually really starting to freak him out; he didn't know what Kuon was waiting for, he was caught red handed (quite literally, given the blood and all)—instead choosing to just stand in front of the body and shake his head slowly, typing something into his phone.
“Are you okay,” Kuon asked, turning to Kunigami.
Kunigami shrugged. He couldn't move, though he had no good reason to be sitting down since he actually came out of the fight unscathed, and his hands were clammy and bloody. His shirt was also covered in blood. His hair was probably covered in blood due to him nervously running his hands through it and Kuon, his husband, was acting like he couldn't see any of it.
He held his knees and began to cry, muffling his sobs with his arm.
“Babe, calm down,” Kuon cooed, licking his finger and wiping dried blood off of Kunigami’s cheek, “I’m gonna make two calls, one to Ego and one to Ryuusei, and we're gonna get this shit sorted out. Then we can go out to dinner.”
Kunigami looked down at the dead man on the floor. He wasn't sure how Kuon could be thinking about eating right after being made an accomplice to manslaughter , or who the fuck Ego or Ryuusei was and why they would be able to “sort out” murder, but his head was already pounding so badly that he didn't want to spend too much energy thinking about any of it.
“Dinner?”
“Dinner,” Kuon repeated, unfastening his tie and pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, “We still have seven o’ clock reservations. It’s 6:30 now, but I believe we could get this all straightened out by 7:45 and push the reservations back to 8:30.”
Kunigami nodded slowly before walking over to the sink and washing his hands, watching as the blood left his palms and went down the drain.
So Kunigami was married to an assassin.
It took him a few hours to put the pieces together (they ended up missing their dinner reservation. Kunigami was too sick to go, which was a surprise to absolutely no one. Kuon seemed disappointed, though) but he finally came to the conclusion that yeah, Kuon probably killed for hire and that's why Kunigami got gunbutted in the confines of his own home.
Honestly it was something that he probably should have realized a few months ago, yet he was so blinded by love that he couldn't see the blatant hints and clues that were almost screaming at him, but Kuon was a mercenary and Kunigami felt so fucking stupid and he was super fucking pissed .
“Ryuusei. Why didn’t you tell me Niko was back in Yokohama,” Kuon asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Kunigami had never seen Kuon like this; so cold and emotionless. He did not spare as much as a glance towards him, his demeanor completely changing once he got off the phone.
“Cause I didn't know Niko was in Yokohama,” the man, presumably Ryuusei, responded, “And if I did don't you think I would have fucking told you ?
Kuon sighed, shaking his head. “This better not be repercussions for what happened in Sendai.”
“It could be.”
Kunigami covered his face with a throw pillow before screaming into it. Kuon killed people. Kuon, the man that he has now spent a good year of his life with, was a hitman for hire (if Kunigami didn't know better he would say that it was the beginning of a bad joke: An accountant, a hitman, and some other dude walk into a bar. The punchline is killer ).
While Kunigami was known for having shit taste (see: Raichi) he never knew it could ever go this far.
“Is he okay,” Kunigami heard Ryuusei ask. It was such a stupid question; who could be okay after taking someone else's life, after having their own life on the line. Kunigami was not okay, nor will be ever be okay, and the second he was able to stand up without puking he was going to march down to his lawyers office and—
“He’ll be fine.”
“Excuse me,” Kunigami snapped, ignoring the wave of nausea holding him back and marching towards Kuon, “I’ll be fine? Are you fucking crazy? I almost died! There's still a dead body on the floor! I’m gonna go to jail.”
“No you’re not,” Ryuusei yawned
“Shut up! I don't even know you!”
“ Baby ,” Kuon said, changing his tone again . He wasn't sure what to believe; Kunigami was seeing two different versions of Kuon and they both seemed pretty convincing.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” Kunigami scolded, crossing his arms.
“Oooh someones in trouble— ”
“Didn't I tell you to shut up!”
“Both of you. Be quiet,” Kuon said, his phone ringing, “It’s Ego.”
Ryuusei rolled his eyes, walking past Kunigami and falling down on the couch.