Work Text:
If there was anything that felt worse than failing something that plagued Dazai's mind every day, it was this.
The days had already been bad enough recently. His thoughts had been too loud, he could barely convince himself to crawl out of bed in the morning, much less try and shower or brush his hair. For maybe the last week or so, he had looked like a walking corpse, and on every plane of existence he felt like it too. Dazai thought It couldn't have possibly gotten worse for him from there.
But no, of course, it could get worse, he thought as he stared blankly up at the dreary brown ceiling of his apartment. Of course, of course, he would get sick on top of all that.
Dazai didn't even know how he had gotten sick. As far as he was aware nobody around him had been, nor had he tried anything to cause such a dreadful feeling. Overworking himself couldn't be it either cause he never worked in the first place. He had been perfectly fine the day before (as fine as his version of fine could be anyway) it was as if it had crept up on him out of nowhere as a spirit that he had personally wronged decided now was the time to wreak all havoc on him as revenge, and Dazai had a tendency to personally wrong a lot of people. Or maybe this was just his punishment for still being alive.
Whatever the case, he felt like he was on the verge of death, and not in the way he wanted.
Not even bothering to look around, Dazai blindly felt around for his phone that he always kept nearby on his futon. Grabbing it, he looked at the time as he blinked away the blurriness from his eyes. Minutes to eight-thirty, work at the agency started at nine.
Ignoring the messages that had been sent from his partner the previous night, Dazai tossed the phone aside and turned over as he opted to stare at the wall instead of the ceiling as a new change of scenery. He supposed he should figure out what to do for the day now that he had supposedly fallen ill. Normal individuals would simply call in sick and take the day off, but never in his life has he taken a normal approach.
Still, he held up his phone again and opened it, eyes lingering on the contacts that were listed. He didn't have many numbers, just the people in the agency, a select few from the mafia and random women here or there. Dazai tapped a few of those last ones and blocked them, before deleting the contacts altogether
The only reason he had the agency members' numbers, or even a phone in the first place, was against his will. Out of pure habit, he wouldn't have any devices on him and at times he'd suddenly go off the grid as a result, with no one being able to find him until he eventually turned up again.
One day Kunikida had just gotten tired of looking for him every day because of lack of contact and had given him his phone, stating that he was due for a new model anyway. Pushing down a refusal, knowing that the other option was getting a tracker placed on him next, he had accepted it. The second the doctor had heard wind of the younger possessing modern-day technology she had taken it and entered both her and Ranpo's numbers into it, demanding that if he ever needed anything he must call her immediately.
His finger lingered over the pinned contact as he considered calling Kunikida, or at least texting him and saying that he wouldn't be coming today before he decided against it. All that would do would lead to him asking why, and then Dazai would have to use his below-the-bar energy to explain that yes, even people like him who should honestly barely be considered a person, can get sick.
Yosano crossed his mind for a moment too, but he would truly be wasting her time that could be spent helping someone else. She couldn't simply fix him like she can everyone else, and that may only lead to other conversations about his overall health that, if he could help it, he would never like to discuss in this lifetime.
Even if he wanted to inconvenience anyone in his workplace about his troubles, he didn't trust their true intentions yet. He hadn't been there long, for all he knew any attempt of kindness or sincerity that has been given to him so far may be a farce. Where he came from there was no such thing as kindness without being given something in return.
Yeah, he thought as he tossed his phone aside, he shouldn't call them. worst case scenario they'll assume he had died, and even then he highly doubted they would care that much anyway. It would probably take maybe two, or three days for them to even realise that he had gone missing and wasn't simply slacking off again.
They don't care about you, Dazai coughed again as he curled in on himself, You shouldn't bother them with your problems.
He stayed like that for maybe three hours. Every few minutes he would kick off the blankets from the discomfort of the heat before pulling it on again as the cool air fell in. His throat felt dry and ached no matter how many times he coughed, but he didn't have the energy to get up and get water. Nose running, Dazai sniffed before shutting his eyes again, hoping that if he slept it would take his mind off of the pain. But, of course, his brain decided to kick in, keeping him up throughout the day.
Pushing himself Deeper into the comforter, dazai coughed again as another set of phlegm stuck in his throat. Out of all the things he dreamed about when he envisioned his end, sickness was not on the list. He despised getting sick, the feeling of being that weak and vulnerable allowed others to jump at the chance to strike at the opening in his otherwise flawless demeanour.
Even when he was younger, it was dangerous to ever let others know that something may be wrong, lest an assassination attempt was carried out on him the same day. Dazai had grown used to suppressing it, but it didn't make it any less exhausting.
It wasn't as bad as before at least. Back then, he didn't even have a proper apartment to sleep in until he got better. If his annoying partner back then hadn't forced him to stay in his apartment (which usually was only when dazai was so sick he couldn't hide it) dazai would have been forced to suffer in the cold of the shipment container he lived in, its steely walls reflecting the frigid air that encased him like a freezer. The contaminated waste that surrounded the abandoned containers would often leave him even worse for days, though he would always push through. The other option was to visit the boss, and like everything else, dazai would rather die than do that.
He wasn't in a shipment container anymore. He wasn't surrounded by toxic elements, and there was no peculiar doctor itching to cure him so he could get back to work as soon as possible. He wasn't the best, but it could've been worse. He didn't need any help if he endured it last time. he can endure this time too.
After what felt like forever, he finally felt himself drifting off again. Until his senses were woken by a pounding knock on the front door.
Groaning, dazai buried himself deeper into the sheets. He could barely make sense if he was actually awake or not, but either way, he couldn't mistake the piercing precise knock that belonged to his partner. Dazai hadn't expected him to show up, or maybe he did but really hoped he would leave him alone today at least.
He knew Kunikida wasn't there because he knew he was sick, he probably couldn't care less about that if he did. All he wanted was to drag him to work against his will, whether he liked it or not. Part of him wanted to see if he would look at him and still try to get him to finish the paperwork he ignored yesterday, but every other part just wanted the man to leave him alone.
Even if he couldn't make it out, Dazai had memorised the other man's habits like clockwork. If the knocking started, the yelling was bound to follow.
"DAZAI!"
There it was, Dazai held back a sight that had quickly turned into another ragged dry cough. Honestly, if the man had taken two seconds to turn the handle he would notice that the door was unlocked. He always left it unlocked with the risky thrill of never knowing who may come through the door. It seemed that the other man had figured it out after another two rounds of knocking, as Dazai ignored the creak of the door that indicated he had stepped in.
In the distance from his spot on the futon, Dazai heard familiar footsteps, not bothering to make his presence known. Maybe, dazai pondered as he pointedly ignored the younger man's calls throughout the apartment, if he just stayed silent Kunikida would simply give up and leave.
All of his hopes were ruined when the blonde man appeared in the doorway of his bedroom.
Dazai had honestly expected an immediate round of yelling, something along the lines of how he was a lazy slacker who didn't know how to work if it smacked him upside the head with a government report.
But Kunikida stayed silent in his spot in the doorway.
Dazai noted the sigh of relief that passed through his nostrils when he first walked in. It was only at that moment he realised, with the way his claims skin glistened, and how he stared at nothing but space, for a moment Kunikida must've thought he was dead.
They stared at each other for a moment, eyes locking on each other in silence before Kunikida turned and walked out of Dazai's sight. pulling his sheets high enough to shield his eyes from the sunlight that filtered through the door, dazai found it in himself to scoff.
Of course he left. figures.
Relieved that his partner didn't make a fuss about missing work and at least possessing enough decency to leave him to suffer in peace, Dazai shut his eyes again in an attempt to ride out the worst of it. Until once more he was rudely assaulted by the sunlight when the covers were ripped away from over his head.
"Wha-"
His forehead suddenly felt cold and wet. Thin fingers instinctively flew towards his head, his hand was held back from moving.
Dazai locked eyes with Kunikida, whose hand kept a firm grip on his before removing it slowly. With his other hand, he handed the older boy a glass of water. Hesitantly, Dazai took the glass, examining it carefully out of habit before taking a sip. The cool liquid slid down his throat and soothed the scratchings that had been plaguing him since the night before. Finishing the entire glass and setting it aside, Dazai realised that Kunikida had stepped away again. Fiddling with the fabric of his futon, he heard footsteps again and looked up at his partner who stared down at him with a somewhat unreadable expression.
Fumbling with the bottle that had just been tossed to him, dazai examined the text on the label. It was some kind of milk beverage, the plastic still cold as it had recently been taken out of a refrigerator.
Dazai looked up quizzically "I don't have this in my fridge."
Kunikida scoffed "You don't have anything in your fridge. Ranpo gave it to me before I left, I think he took it from the Yosanos office. Drink it, it's high in vitamin D and calcium. It'll help you get better"
"How did you-"
"You didn't answer your phone this morning." His partner answered as he surveyed the state of the room, his nose scrunching slightly whenever his eyes landed on something he didn't approve of "Even when you don't show up you at least read my texts, and you didn't look good yesterday either."
He noticed? Dazai stared at the man as he finally gave in to his urges and started to walk about the room, cleaning up the floor from stray bottles and organising things into piles.
"I called Yosano a few minutes ago," He continued as he picked up another empty bottle of cheap wine before tossing it in the pile with the others to be thrown away "She'll pass by on her way home to give you some medicine to help you feel better, you're not allowed to keep it though, I'll take it with me."
why though? Dazai wondered as he observed Kunikida move around the room like he was a Roomba, picking up even the smallest piece of trash from his dumpster-clad floor. Yosano didn't need to come, he wasn't dying or anything. She didn't need to waste her time with him.
Dazai had the feeling though, that he had no say in objecting to this matter. So instead of questioning for the millionth time since he had joined why they were so insistent on helping him, why they couldn't just leave him alone, he opted to keep his mouth shut. His throat still hurt anyway.
Finally satisfying his standards of at least making Dazai's space look less like a natural disaster than it had before, Kunikida pulled a chair from outside the room and dragged it next to Dazai's futon. Sitting himself on the furniture, he pushed his glasses further up his nose.
Pulling out his notebook and pen, Kunikida began to write something on a clean pave "You can sleep if you want, I'll wake you when Yosano gets here."
Too sick to even fight her coming to check on him, Dazai managed to mumble an okay before turning over and laying down again, finally managing to sleep better with someone there with him. He wasn't quite asleep, he didn't trust the other man enough to do that yet, but he wasn't fully awake either.
The room fell into a comfortable silence, with nothing but the sound of deep breaths, and a pen scratchin' against paper filling the air. As he sat in the simple wooden chair and took in his surroundings every few moments, Kunikida put his work aside for the day, adding a new section on the ideal way to take care of a sick partner as the day passed by