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One of the love languages that Dazai and Chuuya always used, were flowers. They’d send a bouquet to the other’s organization occasionally, and it was their job to figure out what the other meant by the kind of flower or the number of them.
It had been a month since the last bouquet on Chuuya’s office, so when Dazai went to his desk and found at least a dozen of violet flowers waiting for him, he didn’t seem impressed, it was just a matter of time for a new set of them to appear.
“Oh, hi Dazai” Kunikida greeted him, looking more relaxed than usual, not even mentioning Dazai’s tardiness, “those came earlier, they didn’t give a name, but I suppose they’re from Nakahara-san.”
“Of course, that’s not new” Dazai was smiling, maybe that day at work wouldn’t be so boring, he’d have the entire evening to figure out what was Chuuya trying to say to him, “aren’t they cute, Kunikida?”
Dazai took the bouquet, caressing the flowers with delicacy, analyzing the hooded shape of the petals and the bright color that matched with the dimorphotheca he had gifted him the last time.
He was in the middle of counting and sizing the flowers to start doing his research on what they were when Atsushi came in, returning from his lunch break and walking straight to Dazai, talking about a mission they had to go the next day and how many delayed paperwork he had, which he wouldn’t help him complete.
“And Ranpo also told me to— Wait, what are you holding?” Atsushi stopped mid-sentence, staring at the flower in Dazai’s hand, which he hadn’t seen until he came to his own desk.
“It’s a gift from Chuuya” he answered, more focused on the bouquet than Atsushi’s conversation.
“But it is…” Atsushi gasped when he recognized it, using one of his notebooks to smack the flower out of Dazai’s grip.
Dazai didn’t react at first, looking confused with Atsushi’s sudden change, just staring at the flower that was now on the floor. Kunikida had shifted his attention to the duo when he noticed their silence, leaning over his computer to see what had make them to stop talking.
“Atsushi, that wasn’t very kind of you” he scolded the younger, who ignored him to hold Dazai’s hand.
“That’s Monkshood” he muttered, “we had those growing outside of the orphanage, I think their real name is Aconite.”
Kunikida furrowed his eyebrows, as if that explained everything. Dazai didn’t understand what was happening or why was his hand so interesting all of the sudden.
“And what does that mean?” he finally asked, looking in between the two of them.
“They’re extremely poisonous” Atsushi answered, “once, one of the kids ate one by accident, he almost died.”
Now that was something he wasn’t expecting. He and Chuuya were always joking, making pranks and insulting each other, but there was a clear limit none of them ever crossed, and that implied never doing anything lethal. Chuuya used Corruption and Dazai would take care of him afterwards, Dazai had bad days where he attempted and Chuuya was there to help him fix the broken pieces. Subsequently, Corruption was never used unless necessary, and suicide jokes were out of question.
Dazai hadn’t noticed it, but red spots were already forming on his palm, Kunikida said something about Yosano and Atsushi nodded in his direction. But Dazai couldn’t register nothing else than the fact that Chuuya, his boyfriend, had tried to kill him.
And it didn’t make sense, he had a certain drug endurance from his multiple attempts and his years under Mori’s training, but by the way his skin had already reacted to touching the flower only, he could tell his body didn’t have any kind of defense against that kind of poison.
Chuuya probably knew it.
He knew about his resistance after all, so he could’ve figured out about something that’d work out.
Kunikida was now standing next to him, holding his hand instead of Atsushi, who was nowhere to be seen. His palm was itching, but as soon as he tried to scratch it, Kunikida stopped him and began to apply a cream on it.
“How do you feel?”
That brought Dazai out of his thoughts, he hadn’t quite paid attention to his body until then, quickly noticing the heat from his hand and the way his heart was beating a little slower than normal without him doing it on purpose.
“Not alright, I think” he admitted. He had been through way worse reactions to poison before, maybe it was because he held it only for a couple minutes and his body did have a higher resistance, but the effect was still somehow there.
“It’s okay, Dazai-san” Atsushi was back, a blanket on his hands, “seat, you’ll probably won’t be able to see very well, are you cold? I brought this.”
“Don’t worry too much, it’s not that bad” he smiled at Atsushi, but went to seat on his desk either way, “I’ve tried things like this before, remember those mushrooms? They gave me such a bad headache later that day, it wasn’t funny.”
But Atsushi didn’t laugh, and Kunikida remained silent, a concerned expression in both of their faces. Dazai wasn’t used to people looking at him like that, especially when he was doing mostly fine, touching some Aconite wouldn’t kill him. Besides, he had more important things to think of.
What was he going to do when the time to go home came? Was he going to go back with Chuuya to their apartment? But how could he, when the message he’d gave him with the flowers was so clear.
I hate you, and I hope you die.
His mind was spiraling, probably thinking too much of too little. Yeah, Chuuya had gifted not only one poisonous flower but a whole bouquet of them. Still, it was probably his fault, he must’ve done something to upset his partner so much that he’d to get revenge somehow. And if killing Dazai was the way, he didn’t see anything wrong with it. He deserved it, after all.
Without realizing it, he’d spaced out again. Neither Atsushi nor Kunikida were trying to talk to him, having already noticed he wasn’t in the best mental state to do so. They had returned to their desks, keeping an eye on him and checking how his hand was doing every couple minutes. The routine went on until it was time to head out, and it was until then that Atsushi decided to talk again, careful on using a soft voice.
“Do you want me to go with you? I’m sorry I can’t offer you a place to stay, but Kyouka and me already have the entire room occupied and—”
“Atsushi-kun, it’s okay” he reassured him, then switching his attention to Kunikida, “you guys have nothing to worry about. This was nothing, tomorrow I’ll be as good as new.”
“Dazai, you know Atsushi isn’t talking about your hand only” Kunikida stepped in, “you have my number, call me if anything happens, do you understand?”
Dazai blinked, clearly caught off guard, and nodded to Kunikida.
“Yes.”
When Dazai closed the door of the apartment behind him, the smell of crab soup hit him, along with Chuuya’s playlist playing from the speakers on the living room. He took his shoes off, as well as his coat, feeling like something was not fitting on the scenario he had in mind.
“Dazai, is that you?” Chuuya asked from the kitchen, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. He was the only one with a copy of the key.
Dazai didn’t answered, walking instead to where his partner was cooking dinner. It was his favorite dish, out of all things. Why was Chuuya making crab anyway? Shouldn’t he be expecting for Dazai to be dead already, intoxicated by the poisonous bouquet he sent?
“Hi.”
Entering the kitchen, Dazai stared at Chuuya. He was wearing an apron over his usual work fit, his hat was on the kitchen bar and his gloves probably at the bedroom, he never cooked with them on. Chuuya turned around as soon as he heard his partner, taking the spoon with him and offering it to Dazai.
“Here, taste it. I think something’s missing, but you tell me.”
Dazai didn’t move at first, only staring at the wooden spoon in front of him. Chuuya gave him a confused look, pushing the utensil closer until Dazai opened his mouth and tried its content.
“And? How is it?”
A shuddered breath was everything Chuuya had as a response, Dazai couldn’t decide on where to start or if he should push everything aside, act as if nothing had happened and pretend he hadn’t received a death wish that exact day.
Taking a deep breath, he spoke, looking at Chuuya dead in the eyes, “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”
“Excuse me?”
“If you weren’t happy with this, Chuuya, with what we have, you could’ve told me.”
“Dazai, what? You’re literally making no sense, what are you talking about?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know it” Dazai rolled his eyes, a sarcastic laugh that sent shivers down Chuuya’s spine, “I received your message, Chuuya, no need to tell me twice. I’ll leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave, when did I say that?” Chuuya was raising his voice, sounding lost and panicked, while Dazai stared at him with sad eyes and a hurt expression.
“With the flowers, Chuuya.”
“Flowers?” Chuuya had managed to look even more confused, getting out of the kitchen and walking around the bar to get closer to Dazai, “I didn’t give you flowers.”
“Then what—” Dazai paused, like connecting the pieces of a puzzle, “you didn’t?”
“No, idiot” the mafioso seemed to catch what was going on, his eyes wide with realization, “someone sent you flowers in my name?”
“Well, no, not exactly.” Now that things had calmed down, at least a little, Dazai felt more at ease to continue talking, “they didn’t have a name, but I thought they were yours, since we always do that, you know? Send then anonymously and wait for the other to figure out what they mean.”
“Fair enough” Chuuya agreed “But what were they? Why were you talking about leaving?”
“Aconite” that brought up the same reaction as Kunikida from Chuuya, apparently everyone knew what they were excepting Dazai, how funny.
“Shit, are you okay?” Chuuya had began to touch Dazai trying to find any anomaly, the other let him, now more than sure his partner had nothing to do with the poisonous flowers. The red spots on his hand were almost gone, so there was no real damage, only the mental distress Dazai had found himself for the last hours.
“I am, Kunikida and Atsushi took care of it.”
“For fuck’s sake, you could’ve died, Dazai!” Chuuya looked conflicted, still checking on Dazai to make sure he was okay until the sound of the boiling soup startled him, only then realizing he’d never turned off the stove. He ran to the kitchen, taking the pot out of the heat and putting it aside.
Dazai took that time to let the new information sink in. If Chuuya wasn’t the one who sent him flowers, then someone else must’ve known about their tradition and took advantage of it, knowing Dazai’s guard would be down, not expecting an intoxication out of nowhere.
By the time Chuuya returned, Dazai had already figured out who the culprit was, but he wasn’t his priority at the moment. For now, he could be glad the incident was averted thanks to Atsushi and the misunderstanding had been cleared up, so his relationship with Chuuya was safe as well.
Fyodor could be taken care of later.