Archive of Our Own

Doppo Kunikida is a rather ordinary man. He’s a practical and serious person who has strong morals and ideals and who spends most of his time at work. He has a rather ordinary life, too, working at a detective agency where most days are calm. After a long day he arrives home at his apartment, takes off his shoes and neatly puts his keys in the bowl placed on a dresser near the entrance, preparing for a relaxed and organized Friday evening with working out, cooking food and reading his newly acquired book before going to sleep.

This is not what Kunikida gets. Because there is one part of his life that happens to be extremely unordinary. That part sits on Kunikida’s couch when he turns on the lights, two bottles of shochu resting on their lap.

“Go home, Dazai,” Kunikida sighs as he enters his apartment, at this point so used to the man’s visits that he doesn’t even look around to see if any valuables have been stolen. “I’m too tired today.”

Dazai has shown up for a while now, always bringing alcohol with him. He somehow always manages to slip through Kunikida’s window before the blond even gets home even though usually they leave the office at the same time.

“But you haven’t even heard my offer yet, Kunikida!” Dazai responds right away, pushing aside the bottles of clear alcohol to crawl over to the end of the couch and pout with a tilt of his head.

“It’s always the same offer. You want us to drink and talk about nothing.”

Dazai hops over the armrest of the dark gray couch and makes his way over to the blond. “Not today, Kunikida, not today. Today I want us to talk about something important,” he grins and grasps Kunikida’s hand with his own strangely cold ones.

“...Well. What is it?” the blond asks as the brunet massages his pale knuckles. Dazai’s hands are soft, much unlike Kunikida’s dry and calloused ones despite his best efforts to keep them moisturized and taken care of.

The corners of Dazai’s lips tug up and he squints his eyes just a bit. Kunikida realizes he has made a mistake. “I’ll let you know if you drink with me,” the brunet grins and the blond tugs his hand free to rub his forehead and sigh.

“Get out of my apartment.”

“But Kunikidaaa–” Dazai whines.

“I’m not encouraging your alcoholism any further.”

“Hmph.” Dazai crosses his arms and raises his chin, turning his head away with his eyes closed like a cat that’s been denied its second bowl of milk. “Guess I have no choice but to kill myself since clearly my only friend doesn’t even want to listen to my problems!”

Kunikida is about to open his mouth, say that they’re not really friends, more like coworkers who occasionally drink together, but he doesn’t want Dazai to make any more threats.

“...One drink.”

Dazai’s eyes shoot open, little white sparks in them as he hops up like a gleeful child. “Yes! I knew you’d agree to it!” he says because it’s probable he did know. Kunikida always ends up going with Dazai’s antics when he shows up at his apartment.

But the drink is never just one, even if Kunikida really hates the taste of alcohol and bitterly swallows down each glass as Dazai goes on about his latest attempts and conquests. The blond’s head spins, eyelids heavy and sweat glowing on his forehead as he finishes another glass and places it down on the coffee table.

“And she said ‘no, you’re the pretty one!’ And I had to pretend like I’m not aware of how pretty I really am and then– Oh, you’re done?” Dazai interrupts his story to look at the dizzy Kunikida with a flushed face, flushed lips. Dazai’s in no better condition. He leans forward to empty the second bottle into Kunikida’s glass. “Oh, should I have brought more? I can next time!”

“No,” Kunikida mutters and pushes Dazai’s hand away from his glass so the last drops of the alcohol drip onto the clear coffee table. “No more.”

“Ha, you’re all red. It’s always fun seeing what a lightweight you are,” Dazai chuckles as he takes Kunikida’s glass instead, places it to his red lips and downs it at once. Kunikida is almost impressed when the man only slightly scrunches his nose as he lowers the glass back down.

“Why do I let myself get into these situations,” Kunikida sighs, raises his glasses and runs his hands over his eyes. He lowers them and leans back on the couch that has never felt so soft. He turns his head towards Dazai who is intently looking at him with his dark, brown eyes softened by alcohol. “So,” Kunikida starts, “What did you want us to talk about?”

Dazai’s eyes travel all over Kunikida’s face and he soon starts feeling self-conscious about it. What’s he searching for in his features? What’s he looking for so hard his eyebrows contort? The brunet’s fingers slowly curl into fists as he looks deep in Kunikida’s grayish eyes. As if waiting for something Kunikida doesn’t know how to give him.

And because he doesn’t, Dazai pulls back, yawns and stretches his arms far above his head. “Oh, I am tired! Could I crash at your place, Kunikida?”

Kunikida rubs his hot face once again. “Sure. I’ll prepare the couch–”

“Great, I’m taking the bed!”

And before Kunikida can even open his eyes, Dazai has bolted from the couch and staggered to the bedroom with quick, shaky steps. Kunikida goes after him, mostly to make sure he doesn’t fall but also because he wants to make sure there is nothing embarrassing on display there – like his notebook. Yet when he arrives in the bedroom, Dazai is passed out on the double bed, on his back with his dress shirt having ridden up from beneath his slacks so some bandages from under it are on display. His mouth is open and small murmurs escape it every now and then. He must’ve been really drunk after all.

Kunikida sighs, grabs a blanket from the foot of the bed, and makes his way to the couch, turning off all the lights in the house in the process. He loosens his tie and lies down on the couch, closing his eyes. 

Sleep comes easy that night – it often does but this time it overtakes him. And as his consciousness fades away, one thing remains on his mind. 

Dazai with that curious look on his face.

In the morning, the sun shines in through the living room windows and wakes Kunikida and his headache up. He’s used to this by now, all his Saturday plans being thrown away because of one extremely persistent little devil.

Speaking of, Kunikida gets up in his slightly sweaty clothes and makes his way to his bedroom all while massaging his temples in hopes of easing his headache. 

But Dazai is gone, behind left only a few wrinkles on the blond’s bedding. Kunikida doesn’t bat an eye at this, instead going to his medicine cabinet to take some ibuprofen. 

The next time Kunikida sees Dazai is on Monday morning in the agency, and neither of them mention what took place the weekend before. Kunikida acts normal and swears that it will never happen again.

But it happens again. Because two weeks later Dazai is there again, sitting on the same exact spot on Kunikida’s couch with the same exact bottles and with the same exact grin on his face. Though Kunikida notices in the entrance way that this is the first time Dazai has left his shoes in the genkan and his coat on the rack. As if for the first time he’s making himself at home.

Kunikida does the usual: tries to persuade Dazai to leave only for the man to persuade him more and better, and once again they end up pouring drinks on the living room couch.

“Tell me, Kunikida, you must have a favourite drink in that notebook of yours,” Dazai muses as they clink their glasses and take their first sip of the strong drink. “Won’t you tell me what it is?”

“I do… Though I’m not an expert on alcohol by any means, I prefer red wine,” Kunikida explains while holding back winces from the burn. “I once tried this Italian wine from 2001. I don’t know the exact name, but I have yet to taste anything better than that. But it’s extremely costly even if one managed to get their hands on it. Easily over 55 thousand yen.”

Dazai nods as if he were actually listening. It’s odd as Dazai often wants to be the sole one talking and he’s gotten used to Kunikida mostly complaining or yelling when talking to him. Or that’s what Kunikida assumes. He has yelled at Dazai quite a lot.

But now things feel different. Maybe it’s just from Dazai not annoying him for two seconds, maybe it’s the alcohol warming up his brain, but spending time with Dazai is… Bearable. It’s been bearable for the last six times the brunet has broken into his apartment.

“But… what do you prefer?” Kunikida ends up asking.

“Well,” Dazai leans back on the couch and takes another sip, “I’ve mostly stuck to beer, sake and shochu, but once I had this entire bottle of absinthe to myself, drank it neat, and couldn’t walk for two days. I had to call in sick from work but I really did enjoy myself that night.”

“And you claim you don’t have an alcohol problem,” the blond notes dryly.

“It’s not a problem if it doesn’t cause me any harm.”

“...I think your liver disagrees.”

Dazai tilts his head in an almost seductive way, narrowing his eyes and lowering his voice as if he were talking to someone he was trying to go home with. Yet his words don’t match his attitude: “If everything goes to plan, I won’t be around to see the effects.”

Kunikida almost shivers.

“Ah, but that’s awfully depressing, isn’t it!? Let’s talk about something happier. Let’s talk about you.” Dazai licks the droplets from the rim of his glass before speaking up again: “How do you wish to die, Kunikida?”

“I suppose… From old age,” Kunikida mutters, uneasy. “I’m not like you. Even if life can be hard, I want to see everything it can offer me without ending it prematurely.”

Dazai blinks. “That’s not why I want to die.”

“Then what is it? I’ve never quite understood your need to constantly be on the verge of offing yourself.”

“...It’s not that life is hard all the time. It’s that even when it isn’t, even when I’m having fun, I see nothing worth sticking around for.”

Kunikida supposes asking “not even me?” would be hypocritical given he isn’t sure if he’d even consider the two of them friends. So he just downs the rest of his drink before saying: “I don’t want you to die.”

Another tilt of the brunet’s head, now to the other side. Their eyes meet, a second of just gazing at each other before Dazai turns to fill their glasses again. “You’re clearly not drunk enough yet to be honest,” he chuckles, shaking his head, and Kunikida quickly grows annoyed.

He grabs Dazai’s arm, the one covered in a smooth white dress shirt, and forces him to turn towards him.

“Dazai. If you do kill yourself,” – which he hopes he won’t – “Do it away from me. I don’t want to see that. I don’t want to know that you did it.”

The man’s lips curl into a smile which surprises Kunikida the most. “Got it,” he says before chugging down his drink. Once finished, he wipes his mouth with the back of his palm and says: “Sadly, you probably have to deal with me for a while more.”

“I don’t have a problem with that.”

The night continues rather normally – as normal as it can be, the two of them voluntarily spending time together – with drinking and talking and casual touches as Dazai slowly scoots closer, inch by inch until their knees are touching.

This night Dazai seems more affected by all the drinking. He sways softly from side to side, his words becoming more and more nonsensical as he moves his hands to match what he’s saying.

“And I never back down from a challenge so when he said ‘hey, we should race’ I agreed and of course I ended up crashing my car into a streetlamp, but that’s beside the point. The real point was that I think imperialism could have been good if only–”

“Okay, maybe that’s enough,” Kunikida mumbles, as intoxicated as his partner as the last bottle was emptied twenty minutes ago. “I think it’s time to go to bed.”

“But I’m having so much fun,” Dazai complains and leans forward, tossing his arms around Kunikida’s neck and rubbing his head against his like a cat, making Kunikida’s glasses ride up his head. “Kunikida, with you I have so much fun.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get you to bed.” Dazai’s in no condition to wander the streets alone – he might get mugged and Kunikida doesn’t want that to happen – and the blond would feel bad just leaving him alone on the couch, so he decides to give up his bed. He gets up, places his hands on Dazai’s slim and rather warm waist to guide this grown man to his bed as he clings onto Kunikida’s neck.

With wide and shaky steps, Kunikida makes it into his dark bedroom – it’s late, the moonlight lights up the room enough for the man to make out Dazai’s features – and prepares to lay Dazai down on it. However, the brunet won’t let go of his neck, hands tightly crossed at his nape.

“Dazai, can you let go? I’m trying to–”

“Mmm, is it time to sleep already?” Dazai mumbles, resting his forehead against Kunikida’s shoulder. His breath reeks of alcohol but it’s hot, sending shivers down Kunikida’s spine through his shirt.

“Yes, so lie down.”

“Okay.”

To Kunikida’s detriment, Dazai only tightens his hold around his neck, pulling himself up so his arms are nearly crossed behind the blond’s neck and their noses are touching. Then he falls back, and despite his best attempts to not do exactly that – Kunikida falls with him.

They tumble onto the soft bed, Dazai with his back on the mattress and duvet and Kunikida with his head colliding with the brunet’s. Their bodies are on top of each other, Dazai’s arms still tightly wrapped around the blond’s neck as he desperately tries to get up.

“You’re one pain in the ass,” Kunikida grumbles while his head still spins from the fall. He gets up on one elbow while using his other hand to disconnect Dazai’s arms, hoping for them to fall to his sides.

Instead Dazai raises them to hold Kunikida’s cheeks. Now his hands are warm if a tad bit sweaty. His eyes shine in the moonlight, and he looks very deeply into Kunikida’s eyes despite his gaze having been unfocused for the past hour from all the drinking.

“Sleep with me, Kunikida,” he whispers.

“W–what are you saying?” Kunikida asks, both distraught and surprised. He’s sure Dazai feels his cheeks heat up even further as he massages them with his thumbs.

“Next to me. On the bed,” the brunet pleads quietly. “I can’t fall asleep otherwise.”

“You slept just fine last time,” Kunikida grumbles and softly takes Dazai’s wrist in his hand to move it onto the bed, gently pinning it against the cool mattress. 

“It’s not the same,” Dazai mumbles, a begging look in his eyes which is just enough to distract Kunikida so he can fight his hand free and tightly wrap both of them around the blond’s waist. He rolls them over so they’re on their sides and snuggles up against Kunikida’s chest. His soft brown hair tickles Kunikida’s chin.

“Mmm, so comfy,” Dazai whispers, already drifting off to sleep.

“Dazai. Daz–” Kunikida sighs. It’s no use. The man is fast asleep. He supposes he has no choice but to close his eyes and drift off to sleep, if he can even do that in his current position, his rib cage being crushed by Dazai’s grip.

To Kunikida’s surprise, as soon as he has wiggled off his glasses and closed his eyes, he falls asleep. And he’s quite sure he sleeps the best he’s ever slept in his life, right there in Dazai’s arms.

The morning sun rays colour the inside of Kunikida’s eyelids orange. He wakes up, hungover as hell but surprisingly not minding it too much. Before he even fully processes he’s awake, he reaches down to gently wake up Dazai and tell him to let him go.

However, when he’s met with nothing but the cold sheets of his bed, his eyes shoot open and he looks around. He’s the only one on his bed, no sign of Dazai, not even a single brown hair left behind.

Kunikida finds himself frowning right before all of last night’s nausea hits him at once and he has to sprint off to vomit. He notes the lack of Dazai’s shoes in the genkan as he runs across the hallway to the bathroom.

Monday arrives too fast. Kunikida has barely recovered from his hangover and he’s getting quite scared of seeing his liver count. Still, he makes his way to the agency to have their weekly meeting discussing the newest cases. Dazai is there, looking as normal and dapper as ever, acting as if nothing had ever happened on that Friday night.

For some reason, somewhere deep in his bones, Kunikida feels an ache. He does not know what it means. All he knows is that he can’t wait for the week to end and for Friday to arrive.

The two weeks before Dazai’s next visit go by slowly, pretending as if nothing happened. It’s not as if something had happened – what that something would be, Kunikida doesn’t know – but when either of them got asked about their weekend, they both replied that they just stayed in.

But when Dazai finally shows up with three bottles of red wine – how he got up the firescape carrying those without them breaking, Kunikida has no idea – resting on the blond’s coffee table, Kunikida almost feels a weight lift off his shoulders. 

“Dazai,” he still says firmly as he shrugs his coat off, “You didn’t.”

“I sure hope it’s the right one.”

Kunikida enters the living room with quick strides and takes one black bottle in his hand. It can’t be. 

He opens it and sniffs. He circles around the couch to get two wine glasses. He comes back to the coffee table to pour a bit on the bottom of one of them. He raises it to his lips and sips, doing all of this while Dazai looks up at him with an amused grin on his face. The dry yet bold taste invades his mouth.

It can be.

“Just how much did you spend on these?” Kunikida asks accusingly as he turns to Dazai. The bastard dares to shrug as if he doesn’t know very well.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sure as hell going to worry about it if you spent all your savings just to get drunk with me.”

“Let’s just say someone owed me a favour. I got these practically for free!” Dazai smiles and pats the couch cushion next to his. Unsurely, Kunikida sits down while the other man takes the liberty of pouring both their glasses full, way fuller than you’d usually pour them.

Before Kunikida drinks this delicious nectar, however, he narrows his eyes at Dazai. “You aren’t going to get clingy again tonight, are you?” he asks as if he really minded it.

“No promises,” Dazai hums before holding his wine glass the wrong way and easily drinking half of it. Kunikida watches how his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the outline visible even through his bandages.

Kunikida sips his own wine. It really does taste good. With these they thankfully probably won’t get as drunk as usual and Kunikida’s hangover will be just a bit easier to handle.

He has drunk before, forced by Dazai in their early partnership days, but it was never this regular. He could handle alcohol even worse back then, once getting so blackout drunk because of Dazai’s peer pressure that he ended up waking up next to a random woman with no recollection of the previous night. However, he never told Dazai this little detail.

He wonders how Dazai would react if he told him now. Would he be impressed? Would he even believe him? Would he laugh, choke on his wine and finally get the death he oh so badly craves?

Kunikida doesn’t want to find out. So he decides to talk about something entirely different. Dazai’s conquests.

“So… Have you gotten around to meeting any new women these past two weeks?” he asks as casually as he can. He ends up sounding a bit like he’s curious, which he is not.

“I’m not that big of a manwhore, Kunikida,” Dazai hums with a smirk. “I’d say it’s about one woman a month if we ignore that window of time where I met up with three women in one week.”

“Three women?”

Dazai’s eyes sparkle mischievously. “...Do you want to hear the details?” he asks, already pouring his second glass of wine. Kunikida’s only about halfway through his first glass.

“I’m not so sure–”

“Ah, it all started when I was sent to investigate the murders at that gentlemen’s club. Now, I thought I knew what I was getting myself into, but I didn’t expect all those women to start flirting with me right off the bat!”

Dazai begins his usual storytelling: extravagant details with very little insight into how he was actually feeling through it all. Kunikida listens as well as he can, downing two and a half glasses of wine in what must be just thirty minutes as Dazai goes on and on about how he met up with one of the women from the club on a date and then went back to their apartments with them only to disappear come the morning. Kunikida feels he’s not that different from those strippers right now, the only difference being that he isn’t sleeping with Dazai.

When it’s time to talk about the third woman, Dazai must realize that Kunikida’s warm and intoxicated brain is zoning out as he quickly changes his way of talking:

“And when we got to her place – she had tons of cat paraphernalia – I kneeled between her spread legs and got under her skirt,” – Kunikida chokes on his wine; so far Dazai had spared all the details of what happened behind the bedroom doors – “She tasted sweet. Like a peach, maybe, or a plum. I made her finish twice like that.”

Kunikida coughs his lungs out, hitting his chest as Dazai laughs at his reactions. The wine in his throat is drowning him, tickling at the very back of his windpipe and he ends up swatting one hand away, trying to lean against the coffee table but instead missing and hitting Dazai’s fifth glass of wine that he was loosely holding in his hand. It falls over, red wine flying everywhere.

It’s on the couch, it’s on the white carpet, and it’s especially all over Dazai’s clothes.

Kunikida’s coughing eases that instant, and with one final cough against his fist, he apologizes: “I’m so sorry. I just–”

“What, you’ve never satisfied a woman with your tongue?” Dazai asks as if he weren’t completely covered in wine, a pale red stain seeping through his light dress shirt. It’s on his dark slacks, too. He has a cocky smirk on his face, though, teasing the blond.

Kunikida has no recollection if he has, so he can’t exactly respond. Instead he opts to ignore Dazai’s antics because with the alcohol buzzing in his head, relaxing him, he isn’t feeling as argumentative as usual.

“I’ll lend you some clothes. Come on.”

Suddenly, Dazai’s eyes widen just a bit. It’s enough for Kunikida to notice because he’s observed the man for two years now, but it’s still quite subtle. Just a flit of his eyes.

“I’ll be fine. I just need to dry up.”

“It’s all over you. I’m sure my clothes will fit just fine,” Kunikida says with a shake of his head. “Come.” He offers Dazai a hand, which he reluctantly takes.

They walk over to the bedroom, the blond only vaguely aware that he doesn’t let go of Dazai’s hand until he’s been seated on the bed. Only then does Kunikida turn to his wardrobe and try to pick out some clothes for his friend.

Kunikida doesn’t have many casual clothes. He’s usually at work where he dresses rather formally, and he also has a set of workout clothes he deems rather cold for the weather and too… used to offer to someone else.

He ends up picking out a soft, silky dress shirt he hasn’t used in a while as it was a bit too extravagant for him, along with some black sweatpants still in a decent condition. He then turns to Dazai who’s still wearing his stained and wet clothes. It’s getting dark, but he can still see the small frown on the brunet’s face.

“Why aren’t you taking your clothes off?” the blond asks. They’re both men, after all, so him being there shouldn’t matter that much.

Only when Dazai tugs at the bandage at the base of his palm almost unconsciously does it all click together in Kunikida’s head.

He steps closer and places the pile of clothes on the foot of the bed beside Dazai. “I’ll give you some peace,” he says and is just about to turn away to leave when a hand grabs his.

“I don’t want you to think I’m a freak,” Dazai says with a low, almost emotionless voice. However, Kunikida recognizes something in it. A plea.

“I wouldn’t,” Kunikida says as he looks back at Dazai. If there was a point where he would’ve started thinking that about Dazai, that point would’ve been long gone by now. He’s seen Dazai crash a company car, get slapped by a woman, growl back at a dog and attempt suicide in the office multiple times.

“Do you promise?” the brunet asks just like a small child would. But Dazai is not a child, and Kunikida doesn’t think of him as such. But he nods, he promises, knowing it’s true and not the kind of lie you’d tell a little kid.

Dazai lets go of Kunikida’s hand and starts undoing the buttons on his shirt. What is revealed is a chest and abdomen covered in bandages that are soaked through as well. Kunikida can see something red peeking through them, something that isn’t just wine.

He had always wondered, Kunikida, but he had never dared to ask. But now, as Dazai shrugs off his stained shirt from his equally bandaged arms and starts finding the end of the ones on his torso… Kunikida feels awfully sad. 

Because he knew he was in pain – he is practically begging to off himself every other week – but somehow this feels much more serious. It isn’t a joke, a punchline, a comedic relief. It’s real. And some of them are newer than others, redder and deeper and more fresh, most definitely made during the time Kunikida has known him.

For some reason Kunikida feels the need to say: “I’m sorry,” to which Dazai finally looks up at him. His eyes… they’re scared.

“I feel like… I’ve been taking things too lightly. Treating your attempts as a hindrance. I’m sorry.”

Dazai looks back down. “...Could you get me a rag to dry myself with?” he asks quietly.

Kunikida nods, and with one last look at Dazai and his shirtless form, Kunikida flees to get a towel. He finds one in the bathroom, one hanging over the towel radiator for the guests he never really has over, and brings it back to Dazai who has now taken off his slacks and the bandages on his legs. Kunikida has to swallow when he sees the pale, tormented skin beneath.

Without a word, Kunikida moves to kneel in front of Dazai with the towel in hand. The brunet looks surprised, a raised eyebrow as Kunikida softly presses the warm towel against his bare right thigh. He feels the vibrations of Dazai shivering under his touch.

Kunikida rubs him up and down, gently dabbing the towel against his ivory skin so as to not irritate the scars. He finds himself between Dazai’s knees as he starts drying his stomach and chest.

But to Kunikida’s detriment, he ends up making the most deadly mistake of them all. 

He decides to look up at the half-naked Dazai.

The brunet is looking down at him with half-lidded eyes, parted lips and a flush on his cheeks as his bangs rest over his forehead. Kunikida can’t tell if he’s embarrassed or just otherwise flushed, but the sight is… very addicting.

Realizing he’s rubbed the same spot for probably twenty seconds, Kunikida quickly looks down and blushes before moving to another spot, and soon, Dazai is dry. The blond quickly gets up and takes the towel and Dazai’s clothes to throw them in the laundry so the man can dress himself in peace.

As Kunikida throws the white towel and Dazai’s dress shirt in the washing machine to get them cleaned as soon as possible, he wonders if he pushed his friend too far tonight. If he made him reveal a part of himself he would’ve rather kept hidden. And this awful, bitter regret and guilt starts seeping into his throat.

And Kunikida darts back into his bedroom to make sure Dazai isn’t planning on leaving yet. Kunikida does not want him to leave yet.

Instead of being ready to leave, Dazai is curled up on the bed. Curled into himself, knees to his chest as he lies on his side. He’s facing away from Kunikida, looking out of the window into the now dark sky. His – or Kunikida’s – silky shirt glows in the moonlight.

“Dazai? Is everything okay?” the blond asks before quietly closing the door to the bright living room behind him. He knows there’s wine on his couch and on his white carpet that will probably never come out if he doesn’t clean it right away. Any other time the thought would drive him insane. But now it barely crosses his mind.

Dazai comes first.

“Mm, tired,” the man mumbles, though it must barely be eight pm.

“Can I,” – why is he even saying this? – “Sleep next to you?”

“...Be my guest.”

This time Kunikida actually decides to undo the bed. He tugs the cover off from under Dazai, the man lazily raising each part of his body off the mattress in turn. Kunikida then takes off his socks and his vest and tie before slipping in bed behind Dazai.

By the time he has managed to snuggle up under the duvet, the brunet man has turned around to face him too. His eyes are rather serious, the kind Kunikida rarely sees unless they’re in battle.

“I think that you’re just fine, Dazai,” Kunikida ends up starting before Dazai can. “I don’t think of you any differently.”

“...I bet I’m not the kind of friend – sorry, coworker – you planned on having in your notebook, though,” Dazai chuckles almost bitterly. “Let me guess… Hardworking, funny, studious, serious? Appreciates this life they’ve been given?”

Kunikida wonders if Dazai truly has gotten his hands on the blond’s notebook at some point. But he shakes his head.

“Just because something is unexpected doesn’t mean it’s worse. I think you’re smart and dependable, Dazai. I value you as a friend, even if you can get on my nerves.”

“I suppose you’re not too bad yourself, Kunikida,” Dazai says. “You’re the worst kind of person, yet strangely I like you.”

Kunikida lets out a dry chuckle. “I’d sure hope you weren’t showing up at my apartment just to get me drunk.”

“Who said I’m not doing that too?” the man smirks. “You’re calmer when you’re drunk. You let me get close.”

Raising an eyebrow, the blond asks: “What do you mean by that?”

“For example, if I did this…” Dazai trails a finger up Kunikida’s arm. He shivers, he can’t help it. When his fingers run all the way over the blond’s neck and to his cheek, where he rests his entire hand as if cupping it, Dazai grins even wider. “You wouldn’t push me away.”

Kunikida wants to prove the man wrong. He wants to prove him wrong so bad. But his hand is quite warm and soft as his thumb brushes over Kunikida’s cheek that he can do nothing but sigh and close his eyes.

“You win this one, Dazai.”

The warmth of the wine must still be getting to him as sleep soon starts overtaking the blond. Dazai massages his cheek until the last bits of Kunikida’s consciousness fade away and he falls asleep.

Kunikida has no idea what time it is when the warmth from his cheek disappears, but when it does, it’s getting bright outside and he immediately opens his eyes. There’s not much of a hangover, just… extreme dread. Because Dazai is not there, and Kunikida hears movement from the entrance way.

He bolts up from the bed faster than what his head is used to, and with his sight still spinning, Kunikida makes his way to the genkan right as the front door softly opens.

Dazai’s eyes are wide when he sees Kunikida, already halfway out of the door with his coat over Kunikida’s clothes.

“Why are you–” Kunikida’s voice is dry and scratchy. He swallows hard. “Why do you always leave?”

“I don’t like to overstay my welcome,” Dazai muses with a small smile. “Plus, I have things to do today.”

“Like what?” Kunikida asks accusingly, as if Dazai’s just making up excuses to get away from him.

“I’ve got a date.”

The blond stops. His arms that he hadn’t realized he had crossed fall to his sides. “You do? With who?”

“Remember a few months ago when I stepped on that rusty needle and had to go to the hospital? One of the nurses had figured out my number and called me to ask me out.”

“That sounds like stalking.”

“I like my women just a tad bit too needy,” Dazai grins. “Before they want to make things more serious, of course… Go back to sleep, Kunikida.”

Kunikida swallows. There is some sort of growth in his throat, something big and bulbous. He can’t quite place his finger on why exactly he is feeling this way.

So all he can do is nod, and just like that, Dazai is gone.

Kunikida does not get any more sleep that morning.

“How was your date?” Kunikida asks on Monday after their weekly meeting. They’re sitting together at their desks and the blond has just let the first indication that they’ve seen each other outside of work slip.

Dazai isn’t fazed by this. He’s still stretching and yawning from no doubt a late night, but he still responds with: “It was alright. We got to the bedroom, I asked her to commit double suicide with me and she told me to get out. It’s fine, though, I think I’ve got my eyes on my next target.”

“...Lovely.”

Kunikida itches. He itches with the urge to ask. Just once. Quietly. If he’d be seeing Dazai around his apartment soon. But he holds himself back because he does not want the man to know that he wants to spend time with him that badly, because he doesn’t. He’s just used to it.

And in any case, he knows that at most he has to wait two weeks. That’s all. Two weeks. He can handle that.

Kunikida can’t handle waiting for two weeks. Next Friday, right as Dazai’s ready to slip out of the office, the blond grabs his shoulder and feels like a desperate conquest of Dazai’s who keeps coming back for more.

“Do you want to stop by the liquor store, Dazai?” he asks quietly so as to not let Atsushi or Yosano hear them and wonder when they’ve started voluntarily spending time together. 

Dazai’s eyebrows perk up. “Already coming back for seconds?” he asks mischievously, almost as if reading his thoughts. “My, my, who am I to deny such a request?”

Kunikida grumbles and directs Dazai to the staircase.

Dazai picked out beer and more shochu for the two even though Kunikida still has one and a half bottles of wine left from their last get-together. They end up back at Kunikida’s apartment, of course, cracking open two beers and talking about whatever once again.

“Right,” Kunikida remembers two beers in – he really hates the taste of it, but he endures. “I forgot to return your clothes. I washed them.”

“Mm, I’ll get them when I leave.”

“At six am, I presume?”

Dazai tilts his head with a grin. “Aw, are you still upset I keep leaving early? Jealousy doesn’t suit you one bit, Kunikida.”

“Stop – acting like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m just… some woman you’re trying to flirt with,” Kunikida scoffs.

The brunet’s eyes widen just a bit. “You’re not. I’d treat you much differently if you were.”

“...How?” the blond asks for reasons unknown. 

He expects Dazai to just explain it with his words. He certainly doesn’t expect him to pour himself a glass of shochu, down it with a gulp and scoot close to Kunikida while placing a hand on his knee. Kunikida goes still as Dazai twirls his pointer finger over his slacks.

“I’d be more touchy. Like this,” he whispers with a low voice and starts trailing his finger up Kunikida’s thigh, drawing small patterns into the covered skin as he does. “And I’d lean close. Just like this, whispering into your ear.” Dazai is awfully close, lips suspiciously close to Kunikida’s cheek. “I’d rub your thigh just like this and… I’d suggest going back to your place, but it seems we’re already here.”

Kunikida forces himself not to gulp as Dazai tilts his head so his lips softly brush against his neck. 

“I’d suggest we do something… naughty.”

Kunikida is red. He is very red. He tells himself anyone would react like this if they got this treatment – after all, this has worked on a lot of people in the past. He hopes Dazai will associate the flush on his cheeks with the alcohol, though.

“But you probably have all this written in your notebook, don’t you?” The man suddenly chuckles and as soon as it had happened, he has leaned back and removed his hand. Kunikida still tries to catch his breath as Dazai continues: “Speaking of, you do have the conditions for your perfect partner, right?”

“Uh. Yes, I do,” Kunikida says, thankful about the conversation switching topics even if he technically started the… awkward events. “Why?”

“Just how much stuff have you written for your partner? Ten pages? Fifteen?” Dazai laughs.

Kunikida flushes even redder. He knows it’s unconventional: no one will ever be quite perfect enough for him if he went strictly according to the pages, but…

“Eight. Eight pages.”

Dazai laughs even louder, laughs with his entire heart. “Ah, aren’t you just adorable, Kunikida?” He turns to pour both of them more drinks. “Let’s see just how strict your morals stay after we loosen you up a bit.”

“You know, sometimes I wonder… Does she even have to be from Japan?” Kunikida mumbles before finishing his… fifth? Sixth? Shochu glass and swallowing it all down. “Sure, I think Japanese women are the most familiar to me, but… familiarity isn’t always the best choice, right? That’s why we often only find a spouse when we grow up, not from our childhood friends.”

Dazai watches Kunikida stagger with his words while leaning on his hand, his head softly swaying even with support. “Mhmm, continue, Kunikida.”

“And I’ve been wondering if I’d be fine with her having a career. It’s acceptable now for women to work even with children, and I think it’s their right to do that, so… why wouldn’t my wife get to do that as well? I’m a feminist.”

Dazai chuckles, covering his mouth briefly before getting serious. “Okay, Kunikida, where’s your notebook? We’re getting to the bottom of this.”

“It’s in my–” he holds back a burp because that’d be extremely unprofessional and disgusting, “I’ll get it.” He gets up and shakily makes it to his bedroom to retrieve his notebook without thinking too much about letting Dazai see it.

He returns to the couch to see that Dazai has prepared them another set of drinks. Kunikida sits down and quickly finds the page that describes his ideal partner before handing it to Dazai.

“Hm, okay. Do they have to have black hair?” Dazai says, reading out loud.

“I always thought so, but… I’m blond. It’d be hypocritical to not let her have any other hair colours. But it can’t be dyed. I’d still want her to look professional.”

The brunet eagerly nods and reads over the page before flipping to another one. “What about hobbies? Do they have to ‘enjoy swimming as much as you do and also like analyzing English literature’?”

“I want them to be in shape. Not extremely, but enough that it’s clear they’re taking care of themselves. So swimming can be replaced with another sport, I suppose. I’d just want us to be able to do it together as a couple.”

Dazai nods. “What about boobs?”

Kunikida flushes. He forgot that part was there. He pushes his glasses up, takes a sip, and decides to be a coward.

“Next question, please.”

“Hm… Can they be flirty?”

This part isn’t in his book. Kunikida doesn’t know why he still replies. “Not with other men, no. I can be possessive, and I’d want them to respect our relationship. So no. Only with me. With me, flirting is preferred.”

Kunikida briefly notices that Dazai is no longer reading the book as he asks: “So, let’s say their body count. How high can it be?”

“Well, I’d prefer for them to be a virgin, but…” Dazai’s looking at him with a curious gaze. “I suppose…” The man is still very close, closer than Kunikida remembered him being. “Exceptions can be made.”

“What would their traits be?”

“...Smart. Loyal. Entertaining. ” Kunikida’s eyes are locked with Dazai’s big, brown ones. “...Beautiful.”

Dazai’s bottom lip wavers as he asks: “And their gender…? Do they have to be a woman?”

Kunikida can’t find his voice. When it comes out, it’s weak: “I– don’t know.”

“...Do you want to hear a secret, Kunikida?” the brunet asks so quietly it’s a surprise the blond can even hear it.

Kunikida swallows. And nods. Dazai scoots over so the knee of his crossed leg rests on Kunikida’s thigh and he can lean over to whisper something to the blond. However, he doesn’t lean close to the man’s ear. He leans close to his mouth.

Their noses brush as Dazai whispers: “I think I know who my ideal partner is.”

When Kunikida’s eyes flit up from Dazai’s lips to his eyes, they’re already closed. So is the gap between their lips. 

The blond doesn’t recognize it first, the feeling, but when he does, it’s the end of the world. Because he’s being kissed and he’s being kissed by a man, passionately and tenderly and desperately with Dazai’s hands on his cheeks as if the blond could slip away any second, and Kunikida has the strangest urge to move his lips against his.

But there are 8 pages, 15 topics and 58 conditions in his notebook for his ideal partner, and the first and most important thing that reads on the very first of the eight pages is “female”. And he can’t.

Kunikida turns his head away from the warmth of Dazai’s lips. The hands pull themselves away from his cheeks so fast he’s unsure if they were ever even there. And before Kunikida can say anything, mutter something about how Dazai should leave, the man beats him to it.

“I’m going to go.”

It’s the first and only thing Dazai says, but it makes Kunikida’s ears ring as if he’s been shouted at for hours. Before he can even process the events of the last five minutes, the front door has opened and closed and Dazai is gone. It’s only Kunikida, alone in his apartment.

And he is the biggest idiot ever and he’s about to be the biggest overthinker ever.

He couldn’t have known Dazai liked men. He couldn’t have known he was going to kiss him as he couldn’t have known he liked men. So… by default, Kunikida is innocent, right?

He’s not.

He could’ve said something, stopped him from leaving, grabbed his hand, anything. He could’ve told him it was fine, that he didn’t reciprocate his feelings but that it was fine, they could still be friends. He could’ve done anything but let Dazai walk out of the apartment.

He has now broken his friend’s heart as well as his very own. 

Kunikida doesn’t try to contact Dazai for the rest of the weekend. He has come to terms with the fact that he’s a coward, and he has no idea how he’s going to face the man as he walks to work on Monday morning.

Dazai arrives exactly five minutes late. He greets everyone with a laugh, chipper as ever, but Kunikida notes the circles under his eyes are just a tad bit darker than usual. The man goes around the desks to take his place beside Kunikida’s. 

The blond wonders… Just how much has this all affected Dazai? Of course he’s putting on a front, that’s exactly what Dazai would do, but… has he lost much sleep because of it? Have his scars grown over the weekend? Has he already planned his next suicide attempt?

Kunikida had a moment over the weekend where he was upset. Where he thought that Dazai had only kissed him to get him to bed with him… just like any of his other conquests. And Kunikida’s still not sure if that’s what his motives were, if all that talk about ideal partners was just a scheme to get into the blond’s pants. 

He doesn't know what to think. Whether to feel guilty or upset, whether to feel anything at all. He feels all of these things at once, all of these emotions burning in his heart each time Dazai happens to make some sort of noise beside him. It grows and grows, making Kunikida’s vision blurry as he tries to fill out paperwork.

He’s never quite experienced this; this complete inability to do anything. Usually he knows what to do and how to behave – it’s all written in his notebook and frankly enough Kunikida knows himself quite well – but now his hands are sweaty and his head won’t stop replaying that stupid kiss over and over again.

It had felt like desperation. The way Dazai held him. Because he never was quite as affectionate as he was when he was drunk. Kunikida ponders if the real Dazai is the one who’s sitting beside him right now or the one who grabs onto the blond when he’s drunk. And… which one’s the real Kunikida? The one who is sitting here, ridden with guilt or the one who kind of wanted to kiss his friend back?

Soon it’s time for the morning meeting, and Kunikida isn’t sure how he’s going to make it through the rest of the day.

Kunikida doesn’t know how he makes it through the entire week, but he does, barely exchanging words with Dazai except for when they go on a mission and they’re forced to communicate. Even then it’s dry, as if Dazai is forcing himself to speak with him.

But then it’s Friday, and Kunikida could get two whole days without Dazai if he just so wished. He has no idea why he refuses this break.

He’s done a lot of thinking during these five days. Specifically on how he’ll tell Dazai he still wants to be friends. Because as much as he might enjoy Dazai’s company at times, Kunikida’s ideal partner is a woman. That’s how it has always been. A Japanese woman with black hair who stays home watching their kids while Kunikida works. But that does not mean there’s no space for Dazai in his life.

Kunikida supposes that’s why he grabs Dazai’s shoulder when he’s trying to flee from the building after a workday that ran way too long.

“Dazai,” he says, declares, louder than usual so he sees Atsushi’s head perk up from the corner of his eye. “Do you want to come over tonight?”

Dazai doesn’t look at him right away. He pauses, freezes, before turning around and smiling at the slightly taller blond.

“I have to go grocery shopping tonight,” he says.

“Then I’ll come with you. We can drink at your place.”

“Oh, you’re going to Dazai’s tonight?” Atsushi asks suddenly, having appeared from behind his desk. “Who else is coming?”

Dazai closes his eyes very slowly as he stifles a sigh. “We’re going to discuss some private plans with Kunikida at Kunikida’s apartment. Sorry, Atsushi.”

“Oh… that’s alright. Have fun, you two!”

Dazai continues smiling as he walks Kunikida out of the room, only to fall silent and serious the minute they’re out of Atsushi’s curious eyes and starting to descend the stairwell to the lobby and then the street.

“Dazai…” Kunikida starts his sentence unsurely. “About last Friday…”

“What do you want to drink?”

…Usually he’d push further, but… Kunikida supposes this is a more delicate topic. So he doesn’t.

“...You liked absinthe, didn’t you?”

Dazai nods and starts crossing the street to get them to the liquor store. Kunikida follows him.

It’s excruciatingly awkward, the walk from the liquor store back to Kunikida’s apartment when the sky already begins to dim. But they make it back with a bottle of absinthe and some beer to wash it down with. They sit on the couch without their coats as Dazai opens the bottle and pours them two shots.

“...Can we talk about it?” Kunikida asks quietly. The way Dazai is behaving is frankly terrifying. He’s never remained this stoic for this long, and the blond is starting to think he has truly broken him.

“I’d rather not,” Dazai replies.

Kunikida frowns and looks down at the two shot glasses. He gets an idea.

“...How about a drinking game? You like games, right, Dazai?”

The man briefly looks at Kunikida from under his bangs before shrugging.

“Every time someone drinks a shot, they get to ask the other person a question and they have to answer it honestly,” Kunikida explains. “Are you in?”

“...Fine.”

Kunikida nods, reaches for his glass and downs it in one gulp. It burns and it stings and it’s absolutely disgusting.

“How–” he scrunches his face in misery, “How did you drink an entire bottle of this all by yourself?”

“Practice,” Dazai shrugs. “My turn.”

“Wait, that wasn’t my question–”

“Yes, it was.”

Kunikida holds back the urge to argue back. Even if the usual annoyance burns at his throat. Or maybe it’s just the absinthe. Kunikida has to crack open a beer to flush out the sensation from his throat.

Meanwhile Dazai has downed a shot and is now looking Kunikida in the eyes for the first time that entire week. Kunikida is almost scared by this, the way there is barely any light in his dark eyes.

“Do you think I’m revolting?” he asks in a monotone voice. Not a self-conscious one. A monotone one. As if he genuinely wants to know instead of pitying himself.

“No,” Kunikida responds almost before Dazai has even finished his sentence. “I don’t.” 

When there’s no response, Kunikida pours himself another shot and quickly downs it. Tears prick at his eyes from the awful flavour, the awful burn, but he turns to Dazai and asks: 

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I felt like it,” Dazai says nonchalantly. “I thought it was the right moment.”

What does that even mean…? Kunikida’s memories of the night may be hazy, yes, but… He didn’t flirt with the brunet or anything, did he? Was he giving him some sort of a signal that he… wanted to kiss him too? That’s not possible, is it?

Dazai pours and takes another shot, barely batting an eye at the burn it must cause in his throat.

“Why am I here?” he asks. “Why did you invite me?”

“Because–” For some reason Kunikida chokes when he tries to tell him that he wants to remain friends. Something in him won’t let him say it. As if he doesn’t want to say it. “I wanted to see you,” is what he says instead. 

The alcohol is already bubbling in his head, warming up his entire body from what must be just two shots and half a beer. Absinthe is much stronger than anything he’s ever drunk before, and Kunikida is afraid of what he’ll end up like if they drink much more.

But it’s his turn. So he takes another shot and as he swallows it down, he feels a rumble in his stomach. Nausea.

“Are you attracted to men?” he forces out despite the sure feeling of his body convulsing.

“Would it make any difference if I were?”

“No, but… I don’t see any other reason why you would want to kiss a man.”

“Okay. I am attracted to men,” Dazai admits as casually as ever and downs another shot. Kunikida wonders how he isn’t on the verge of throwing up as well. “Are you?”

“What? N– no, I’m not. I’ve made it very clear to everyone that my ideal partner is a woman.”

Dazai doesn’t seem to like this answer as he frowns just a bit. Thankfully Kunikida’s nausea eases a bit so he can reach forward and pour another shot. He doesn’t know how he’s still sitting up. 

However, while Kunikida’s mentally preparing himself to actually drink the shot, he notices Dazai grab the bottle and pour one for himself. And he drinks it, downs it with ease before Kunikida can even lift his own.

“Dazai, that’s not how–”

“You didn’t say we had to take turns.” Dazai calmly places his glass back down on the coffee table before asking: “Are you going to live your entire life according to the rules you wrote down when you were sixteen?”

Kunikida pauses. His eyes widen.

“...What do you mean?”

Dazai looks at him with a blank stare. “Forget it. What’s your favourite colour?”

“I’m– What– Green, but…”

“Your turn.”

Kunikida swallows as he looks down at his full shot glass. He’s not sure he can do it. But when he looks to his side at Dazai… He has so many questions left to ask him. So he has to. 

Kunikida reaches down, raises the glass to his lips and gulps it down. “Have you hurt yourself because of what happened last time?” he asks after he has recovered from the burn and the spinning in his brain.

“No.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Kunikida lets out a sigh of relief. He doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if he was the reason Dazai did something.

It’s not exactly the urge to protect the man that Kunikida has. It’s more like… the urge to be by his side in case something like that happens. The urge to reassure him that he never needs to do something like that again.

Of course he wouldn’t mind protecting Dazai. He wouldn’t mind shielding Dazai from danger with his own body, holding him in his arms until the threat passes. Even if he knows he can take care of himself.

As Kunikida blinks his way out of his thoughts, he notices Dazai has taken another shot. He appears a bit blurry, a bit wobbly. Kunikida is quite sure he couldn’t walk straight if he tried.

“Kunikida, did you think me kissing you was repulsive?”

The “No,” slips out of his mouth before Kunikida can even properly think about it. If he’s even capable of properly thinking about it at this point.

Kissing is always nice. Kunikida hasn’t kissed a lot of people, but he assumes it’s always nice. That it always makes you want to reciprocate. That it always makes you want to slide your hands down the other person’s back and pull them closer. That it always makes you think of home.

Kunikida thinks he’s entering dangerous territory. His drunken brain can’t recognize the threat that comes with going along with Dazai’s antics. It doesn’t recognize that the two of them have somehow gotten closer since the start of the game. That Kunikida’s eyes barely leave Dazai’s face anymore.

Kunikida takes another shot. His head spins and his stomach is on fire.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he ends up confessing instead of asking a question. 

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know,” Kunikida rubs his face, “Like this sort of dread over the thought of losing someone. Of course our coworkers are very important to me and every time they get injured, I’m on the edge, but… When you left my apartment last week… It felt like my heart shattered.”

The brunet only gazes at him curiously. Kunikida sees the faintest hint of light in his otherwise dark eyes.

“I don’t want to lose you, Dazai. Not because of some stupid kiss I don’t properly know how to react to.”

Dazai stays still for a very long moment. His fingers dig into the couch cushion as he just… looks at Kunikida. Studying his flushed features, his sincerity. Kunikida’s okay with the rest of the night going like this.

But then Dazai turns and pours himself a shot. And drinks it. He asks one last thing before their game is forgotten about:

“Can I sleep in your arms tonight?”

It’s the first time they’ve properly undressed before going to sleep in Kunikida’s apartment. The blond offered to lend the brunet something to sleep him, but he said it was fine. Together they undress on different sides of the bed, unbuttoning their vests and shrugging it off their arms. Then their ties and dress shirts go, sleeves peeling off their arms. Finally their trousers. Kunikida leaves his clothes as a neat pile on the edge of his dresser along with his glasses, but Dazai drops them in a messy mound on the floor.

Kunikida undoes the bed while Dazai starts unwrapping the bandages from his arms. The blond half-expected him to sleep in them – there was no wine to stain them this time – but he’s fine with this too.

When it’s all finished and they’re standing in the dark bedroom, looking at each other from the different sides of the room, there’s only one thing left to do.

Kunikida slips under the sheets first. He’s not sure of all the reasons why he accepted to do this and honestly, they don’t concern him that much right now; his only concern is how warm Dazai is when he gets in and unsurely scoots closer until their bare chests are touching, their noses brushing.

He doesn’t need to put a word on it right this minute. Dazai doesn’t pressure him, and as much as sober-Kunikida would get hung up on labels, the only thing this Kunikida really cares about is wrapping his arms around this Dazai and pulling him even closer. Which he does.

It takes him a few moments to process why Dazai has started shaking. He doesn’t ask why. He lets the tears run down his shoulder while holding him tighter and tighter. 

Sleep only comes once Dazai’s breathing has steadied, once those small gasps and sobs have turned into regular inhales and exhales. Once Dazai’s arms have wrapped around his waist as if to stay. That night Kunikida realizes he will never sleep as soundly as he does with Dazai’s arms around him.

Someone brushes hair off Kunikida’s forehead. That’s not exactly what wakes him up even if he can feel it, but the warmth around him disappearing makes him squint his eyes open. 

He can’t see quite clearly, but he can make out the shape that’s quickly pulling its clothes back on in the dim morning light. 

Kunikida reaches out a weak hand and mutters: “Why do you always leave before I wake up?” He’s asked this before. What he thinks he has received before is a lie. This time it isn’t.

Dazai walks over to the bed and leans over it, so close that Kunikida can see the desperation in his eyes even without his glasses. “Because I’m scared of how much I want to stay,” Dazai whispers. He lowers his head so his lips softly brush against Kunikida’s forehead, barely more than a gentle touch, before getting up and leaving the room followed by the apartment.

The headache hits the second the front door has closed, and Kunikida has to sprint to the bathroom to puke.

Kunikida sits down on his couch on Sunday morning – he barely got out of bed all Saturday – crossing his hands. There is a red wine stain on his white carpet. There is lukewarm beer and absinthe still on the coffee table. There is an ache in his heart.

He guesses it’s time to admit it.

His notebook has seen very little use in the past month or so, but now Kunikida opens it on the coffee table and clicks his pen ready. 

The section titled “SPOUSE” entails eight pages, 15 topics and 58 conditions, all of them detailing what his ideal partner is supposed to look, act and be like.

Kunikida is such a fool, he thinks as he scribbles over all the text on these eight pages. He wonders if he really needed over two years to realize that all he needs in a partner are two words.

At the end of the eighth page, Kunikida places down his pen and writes in a neat, cursive handwriting. 

“Osamu Dazai.”

He takes just a few moments to look down at the text before pulling out his phone. He hasn’t heard from Dazai in over 24 hours now, and he is not about to wait until Monday morning again.

The phone rings for long enough for any normal person to give up. But Kunikida is not normal, no, he must have completely lost his mind to have ended up in this situation. But he’s fine being crazy, because after almost a minute, the line opens.

“It should be a crime to call me so early. I need my beauty sleep,” Dazai whines from the other end.

“Could I come over now to bring you your clothes I washed?” 

“...Right now?”

“Right now.”

There’s deep silence. Kunikida doesn’t give up. He won’t.

“...Okay,” comes the eventual response. “Do you remember my address?”

“I do.”

“I guess I’ll see you soon.”

“You will.”

Kunikida practically ran. He ran and eventually he arrived at the front of Dazai’s apartment door, never having actually been inside. Out of breath, he gathers it for a good moment before knocking on the door.

When it opens, a tired Dazai looks him up and down before asking: “Where are the clothes?”

“You can get them later.”

“Huh? What happened to Mr. Forgetfulness-is-a-vice?” Dazai asks with a chuckle. He’s blocking the door to stop Kunikida from seeing inside, but Kunikida pushes through. “Wait, I haven’t cleaned up–”

It doesn’t surprise Kunikida to see the tatami-matted living room with bottles of alcohol lining up almost every surface. It’s rather empty, not many decorations except for the small bookshelf that appears to have only four books, all on suicide.

“I’m not going to let six year old rules define the course of my life,” Kunikida says firmly. Dazai’s eyebrows perk up. “I can be naive and stubborn, but in the end, I do realize what is right for me, be it in the notebook or not.”

The brunet chuckles. “What’s this all of a sudden? Did you spill your morning coffee on your notebook or something?”

“Dazai.”

The man’s face gets serious at Kunikida’s solemn tone.

“I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to leave my home again.”

“...Don’t say things like that,” Dazai says quietly. “I can deal with being just friends, but you teasing me like that–”

“Dazai.” Kunikida steps closer and places his hands on the man’s shoulders. “Can I kiss you?”

Dazai stops. Swallows. Ponders. Light enters his eyes from the front windows, and slowly, he nods. 

Kunikida sneaks one of his hands to the back of Dazai’s neck and pulls him close while he himself leans down. He wants it to be tender and clean, gentle, and it is at first, but he clearly needs to better get used to things not always going to plan because Dazai eagerly grabs his cheeks and pulls him down so he can open his mouth and kiss him deeper. More needy. More desperate.

“Dazai,” – Kunikida pulls away just enough to rest their foreheads together and mumble something – “You don’t need to rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

A cry of some sort, a broken cry leaves Dazai’s throat before he pulls Kunikida back in, softly connecting their lips this time. Kunikida moves his lips gently, shaping Dazai’s to fit his perfectly like two puzzle pieces. It’s loving and kind and Kunikida wants to do this for the rest of his life.

But eventually he has to breathe, and when they both pull away to do just that, Dazai grins despite the clear tears in his eyes.

“Does this mean you’re my boooyfriend, Kunikida?” he asks.

Kunikida pecks him once more on the lips before smiling at him. “This means you can call me Doppo, Osamu.”

Dazai tangles his fingers in Kunikida’s blond hair and chuckles. Their foreheads are still touching. “I’d suggest we get to the double suicide but honestly I don’t quite want this to end yet.”

Kunikida grunts disapprovingly. Count on Dazai to ruin the moment. “You’re a pain in my ass. I hope I have to deal with you for the rest of my life.”

“I hope so too.”