Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He remembers, with adamant clarity, the day he met Atsushi for the first time.

First, Kunikida yelled Dazai’s name from the other side of the river with the usual exasperation. Then, Atsushi, startled at hearing it, hesitantly asked: “Dazai?”

“Yeah, that’s my name. Dazai Osamu,” he introduced himself then. The wind gave him the perfect dramatic flair. Atsushi's mouth hung open as if trying to say something. In the end he followed Dazai without a word. Dazai would wish, much later, that Atsushi had said something. Then again Atsushi says it's not good to carry regrets. And perhaps there was merit in waiting until the stars aligned, and all the pieces fell in place.

—

Dazai had long since known he was hated by the fates. Because this is a world where everyone has a soulmate. Even Mori-san, even Fyodor, the demon. Even the lowest scum of humanity would have someone’s name on their wrist, often someone as twisted as they were. And yet, Dazai’s wrist remains blank. He suspects it’s because of his ability; perhaps the power that pairs people up could not touch him. He could believe that, if only to cope with the reality of what his life would be.

He keeps his wrist under rolls of bandages, crafts lie after lie for why he’s not looking for a soulmate and no one has come to look for him. Because the only thing worse than the loneliness is how people would look at him if they were to find out. Until he leaves the mafia, he keeps saying he wants to die and couldn't care less about meeting them, which had some truth in it. When he joins the agency, he crafts a new story: that he got tired of waiting and started dating someone else. When his soulmate came along they were too late, too bad for them. It earns him glares and raised eyebrows, but the tale makes him look like an absolute prick in a way that no one could ever suspect he’s lying on purpose.

Four years pass and the judgment of others never bothers him. That is, until the day he walks in on Kunikida giving Atsushi advice about finding his soulmate. “You have to be patient,” Kunikida says. “Remember that they may already be looking for you. In any case, just don’t do what Dazai did.”

He freezes on his tracks.

“What did he do?” Atsushi asks, and Dazai wants to take him out of the room. Because he likes Atsushi, a lot. Because Atsushi is the only one who looks up to him. Coincidentally, Atsushi is the only one who doesn’t know this story. Alas, Kunikida-kun doesn’t miss a beat.

“He couldn’t wait for his soulmate and started dating someone else. He says that his soulmate was ‘too late’ to find him.”

Atsushi is horrified, to say the least. His face sinks and Dazai wants so badly to erase this moment. “Isn’t that so?” Kunikida turns to face Dazai. He has never failed to show his disdain for the subject.

“You mean you’re in a relationship right now?” Atsushi asks, and he’s never looked so sad, so disappointed. Dazai would rather have the ground crack up and swallow him. He sighs.

“I— yes. I am.”

Atsushi looks down at his hands. He’s probably gathering the shards of Dazai’s shattered image in his brain. Dazai is truly hated by the fates. Then again these are the consequences of his own actions. If he had known that one day someone would come along and make him care what they thought of him, he would have chosen another lie.

“Are you happy with that person?”

At this, Dazai is taken aback. So is Kunikida-kun. Atsushi’s face is blank, unreadable, and Dazai could always read him like an open book. This is uncharted territory. He nods. “Yes, you could say that.”

That seems to bring some comfort to Atsushi, although his smile is still sad.

“That’s all that matters then, isn’t it?”

Kunikida gasps. “But his soulmate—”

“Like he said, they were too late. They might as well make him wait forever.”

Kunikida grips his notebook and his face hardens. Atsushi holds his gaze. His eyes are firm and Dazai doesn't know what to make of it. "He has the right to seek his own happiness," Atsushi continues. "I'm sure he also looked for his soulmate before he gave up. If his soulmate took too long to find him, that's on them."

Kunikida struggles to find something to say. His mouth twitches before he sighs. “Even in that case, Dazai would be the exception, not the rule. He isn’t an example that you should follow.”

Atsushi nods and goes about his day as usual, and if he looks somber in the afternoon, no one says anything about it.

—

Nothing changes, really. Atsushi doesn't respect him less, like he feared. Yet when he thinks about it too hard, it scares him how much Atsushi is ready to accept. Because the healthy, normal reaction to his story is what Kunikida has. That Atsushi even entertained the idea of forgiving him should have been unthinkable at best. It makes him wonder about Atsushi's soulmate. Atsushi never speaks of them. When the subject of soulmates is brought up he slides out of the conversation as if afraid someone will ask him. Perhaps he had found them and they did something terrible. Then, by projecting his own experience on Dazai, he found reason in the act of not waiting.

He catches Atsushi looking at couples passing by, when they're at the café, or outside for whatever reason, or when Poe drops by to pick up Ranpo-san. What he sees on Atsushi's face is wistfulness and envy. Or that's how it looks to him. He debates whether to ask; he could say, I'll help you look for your soulmate. Or, I'll help you get away from them, if that's what you need. But is it right to prod where Atsushi hasn't voiced dissatisfaction? He ponders and ponders and in the end does nothing. If Atsushi wants help, there are a lot more people who can do better than Dazai ever would.

What he doesn't expect, however, is when one night Atsushi knocks on his door.

"I need to talk to you about something," Atsushi starts after a polite greeting. Dazai thinks this is for advice about what to do with his soulmate, and feels a rush of pride at being chosen. He lets Atsushi in the apartment and shuts the door.

Atsushi paces around the kitchen, his hands clenched at his side, his face contorted in distress. Dazai watches him without a word. If Atsushi needs time, he will have it. He then says, finally:

"I need to know about the person you're dating."

... Huh.

"What about them?"

"I— what do you call them? Your girlfriend? boyfriend? your person, I mean."

"Let's call them my person, for now."

"Right. Um." Atsushi shuffles on his feet. "Your person, then. They are never around. They don't call you, they never take you on dates. It's like they don't even exist."

Ah.

It makes sense for the one person who forgives him to see through the lie.

Atsushi purses his lips. "Can I meet them?"

"What— no."

"I won't do anything bad. I just want to know what they're like."

What do you mean by anything bad, Dazai wants to ask first. Or not. There's so much packed in a single sentence. How is this a logical response? What the hell is Atsushi getting at?

"I have been watching you," Atsushi eggs on, "not in a creepy way though, I promise! I don't mean to get into your private life but I can't help but," he swallows. Dazai raises a brow. "I can't help but worry about you," Atsushi finishes, and his shoulders sag when he lets it out.

"Worry?"

"I think you're being neglected."

Outside, there's the screeching wheel of a speeding car.

It fades away in the distance, then there's only silence.

"Rest assured, Atsushi-kun, I am not being neglected."

"But—"

"Why are you so interested in my personal life?" Dazai cuts loudly, and he really wants to know. No one has ever gotten this close. He has to throw Atsushi off the scent. "Haven't you considered that I like having space? I don't want to be suffocated with their attention. And I don't like you making assumptions about my relationship."

Atsushi's face hardens, and he balls his hands into fists at his sides. "I think you're saying that to cope. You're not as happy as you say you are."

Oh.

He hit the nail on the head.

Dazai resists putting a hand on his chest. This is the worst feeling. The air is too thick to breathe, and every muscle in his body clenches until it hurts.

"What do you think you know about me," he grits his teeth. "Enough of this. You should leave."

"I have the right to know," Atsushi raises his voice.

Dazai could delude himself into thinking some of the ugly parts of himself have disappeared. Yet there would be times where he feels unchanged, as if these years in the light were nothing.

"Why?" he asks calmly.

"Because—" Atsushi winces. Dazai hadn't even touched him. But the face Atsushi is looking at right now must be doing enough.

Under his gaze, Atsushi grows smaller and smaller, until he is a shaking mess. "Because nothing. Leave now and don't talk to me until I decide I've forgotten about this conversation."

Atsushi's eyes widen in horror. He holds up his hands, makes noises of protest but Dazai has already turned away. He watches from the corner of his eye as Atsushi drags his feet to the door.

The moment passes, and he is himself again. His heartbeat has settled. He hadn't heard the door click shut, so Atsushi must be still putting on his shoes. In hindsight, Atsushi's concern is— normal. Sweet, even. Yet Dazai felt attacked and lashed out in turn. He shakes his head and goes to the corridor. He can still salvage this.

He almost bumps into Atsushi, who must have been thinking the same. Except that Atsushi is sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" he manages through the tears, "I shouldn't have assumed without asking you first. I shouldn't even have brought it up."

"You were worried," Dazai offers, not knowing what to do. He pats Atsushi's head. "I suppose I would worry too, if I were in your place."

"You would?"

"Of course," Dazai says, and Atsushi cries even harder. Was that the wrong thing to say? Dazai's hands flail in the air uselessly, before he takes Atsushi in his arms. He rubs circles on Atsushi's back but hesitates to hold him too tight. "There, there," he shushes, and that seems to work.

Atsushi never returns the embrace though, and is quick to detach himself from it. "Um, your person might get mad if you're hugging me for too long," he says quietly.

"There's no reason for them to get mad."

Dazai will get to the bottom of this fixation with his imaginary lover. But now is not the time.

"I want to apologize to them too, for assuming the worst. But it's alright if you don't want me to meet them." Atsushi sniffs and wipes his eyes on his sleeve. "I'm sorry I overstepped. I don't want you to hate me."

"I— I wouldn't hate you over that."

Atsushi nods. "I'll leave you alone then."

"I can't let you leave like this," Dazai hears himself say, and alarms are going off in his head. He hadn't thought this through. "Stay and we'll watch a movie or something."

"I really shouldn't—" Atsushi is cut off by Dazai dragging him to the living room and pushing him on the sofa. "Are you sure this is alright?"

"I won't let you out until you and I are alright," Dazai says and asks himself why this is so important. In theory, he shouldn't care this much. There's no reason to. He changes channels on TV until he lands on a sitcom he's seen before. Then he flops onto the sofa, where his shoulder is against Atsushi's. Atsushi scoots away, and Dazai follows him until he hits the armrest and there's nowhere to escape. "Let's just watch TV," Dazai says in the whiny voice that usually makes Atsushi sigh and go with whatever he wants. And Atsushi does sigh before he leans on the back of the sofa, and also onto Dazai's arm. It seems that the storm has passed. This could end here. He could let it go. Tomorrow everything will be as before. And yet.

"I," he starts, and this is too much. He shouldn't say it. But it's alright because it's Atsushi-kun. He needs Atsushi to know. Then again why? Does it matter what Atsushi thinks? Everything will work out in the end; as long as Atsushi trusts him, the city will always be saved by their hands. This dispute by itself doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. If Dazai says these words out loud, it would be for his own selfish reasons, whatever they are. He clears his throat. "I'm not used to people caring about my wellbeing— I mean, apart from Kunikida-kun forcing me to clean my apartment and threatening me into drinking liquids other than Sake. Anyway. The point is, I was taken off guard and I got defensive. When I think about it now, the fact that you were concerned and you came here and you stood your ground with me, it makes me—" he hesitates— "happy. I like that you're worried. I like that you're looking out for me. But you don't need to. I'm really alright."

Atsushi doesn't speak for a while. Dazai chews on his bottom lip, afraid that his speech had the opposite effect. In the end Atsushi looks at his bandaged wrist, where the soul mark is supposed to be. "I believe you," is the answer he gets, and he lets out the breath he's been holding.

"But you would tell me if that ever changed, right?" Atsushi asks next. He can be persistent when he wants to. Dazai finds himself smiling.

"I don't know if I would. I can't promise you that. But I don't think— I mean, it's a good relationship. I hope you find something like it for yourself, one day."

"I don't know about that."

"Why wouldn't you though? You're a wonderful person and you're also very handsome. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

The tips of Atsushi's ears turn red; even in the TV light there's no mistaking it. He turns to Dazai, his arm on the back of the sofa. "You really think so?"

"Of course."

"Then, what if, before," Atsushi starts. He then falters. His eyes trace Dazai's face, as if looking for something. "Never mind," he says and turns back to the TV, his hands folded in his lap.

"Oh no, you have to tell me now."

"It's no use to dwell on what could've happened. What's gone is gone."

Dazai wants to insist. But this is a good attitude to have. He'll let it be, and Atsushi will open up in his own time. Something happens in the sitcom, and Atsushi laughs. Dazai laughs with him even though he's seen that episode before. The episode ends and they watch the commercials then the show after, then the show after that. He isn't sure when they fall asleep, but around 2am he wakes up and finds his face squashed on Atsushi's chest. Atsushi himself is none the wiser, sleeping with his neck craned against the armrest. He's going to be sore tomorrow. Dazai stumbles into his bedroom and brings back a pillow. He carefully lifts Atsushi's head and puts the pillow underneath. Then he stands there, watching. Atsushi's chest rising and falling. The exposed sliver of skin at his belly. The wristband hiding his soulmate's name.

Atsushi trusts him, forgives him for everything. Does he have to test those limits? Atsushi never said he doesn't want to talk about his soulmate, it's just that he never does. Would it be wrong for Dazai to lift the wristband? He would then find them and see for himself what kind of situation it is. If they are a horrible person, all the more reason to do this and protect Atsushi from them.

Then again, if Atsushi wakes up now, how would Dazai justify this? A soul mark is an intimate thing. It would be a violation of not only Atsushi's trust, but also his body. Dazai steps back. He isn't sure why his mind went so far. He'll go to sleep then become rational again.

He's about to head to the bedroom when another thought strikes. He had been sleeping on top of Atsushi until a few minutes ago. He could settle back in. No one would know, his mind supplies, as if he was stealing something. Atsushi wouldn't mind either. But Dazai had already gotten up and put the pillow underneath him. Atsushi would know that Dazai chose to sleep with him in a crumpled pile of limbs. Then he would ask why, and Dazai will say, well, it's because—

He shakes his head and makes himself go to the bedroom, where he lies on his futon all night without shutting an eye.

—

It would have been easy to forget and return to life as it had been. But then Atsushi gets into the habit of bringing an extra bento for lunch, which he then coaxes Dazai into eating. Because it's not healthy to always eat take-out, Atsushi tells him. What Atsushi doesn't say is that his (inexistent) lover should care a little more, but he hears it all the same.

Now, Atsushi's cooking is nothing out of the ordinary, but an unnamed part of Dazai's mind is pulsing in delight at the mere thought of eating it. Is it the promise of free food? That must be why. Absolutely no other unfathomable reason lurking within.

Or maybe Dazai has softened, after these years in the light.

(Or maybe it's just Atsushi-kun.)

It's six weeks into Atsushi bringing him lunch every other day, over two matching bentos adorned with octopus shaped sausage, that Atsushi says, "I could make these meals at your apartment instead."

"Huh," is the sound that leaves Dazai's mouth.

"I mean, you'd have boxes stacked in your fridge and take one or two everyday. That way you'd have something to eat even if I'm away on an investigation or you want to play hooky."

He swallows a mouthful of rice. How much is Atsushi thinking about him? But no, Atsushi is too kind. He'd do this for anyone else if they were half as irresponsible as Dazai.

"You're spoiling me."

"I don't know, am I?"

If it were anyone else, it would've sounded flirtatious. But Atsushi isn't flirting with him. There's no way.

"I mean— I don't know. If you're offering, who am I to stop you."

Atsushi grins behind his last egg roll. It's small, but it reaches his eyes. Dazai likes seeing him smile. He should also like it when he doesn't understand what's going on, like right now. He can still decipher Atsushi's face most of the time, but these moments are becoming a regular occurrence. They bother him, but they shouldn't. People change. They absorb the world around them and become new people every passing day until they are unrecognizable and the original is wholly replaced. If Atsushi were to change so much that Dazai would cease to understand the inner workings of his mind— he chases the thought away. Even if it happens, he has the present to hold onto.

On the way home they buy groceries and plastic bento boxes. Atsushi pays for half of it, saying he will be eating some, but Dazai knows that won't be the case and he's being roped into storing more food. They go to his apartment and Atsushi spreads the vegetables on the counter along with the containers. He stands in the middle of Dazai's kitchen, scrunching his nose while mentally calculating the size of each portion. It's adorable, Dazai muses as he sits with his chin in his hand. Fortunately, Atsushi doesn't notice him staring.

Atsushi starts the rice cooker and dumps the vegetables in the sink. He gets out a cutting board Dazai didn't know he owned and sets some carrots upon it. Before he goes on cutting them, he stops with the knife in his hand. Dazai is about to ask what's wrong when Atsushi turns to him with another face he cannot read.

That's happening too often for comfort, these days.

"Um, your— your person. Are they going to eat with you?"

Dazai stumbles over his words. "I don't know, maybe?" Atsushi waits, and Dazai has to make himself believable. "They come around twice a week, so I guess other than that, they won't eat."

Atsushi turns back to the carrots. "I'll set two portions for them as well. What do they like?"

"They eat whatever I eat."

Atsushi hums. Dazai wants him to say something, but he keeps his attention on the vegetables and the simmering pots. Dazai can only watch him in silence. But it's not uncomfortable. Dazai hasn't spent much time in kitchens but he finds the auditory aspect of it soothing. The click of the fire turning on, the water boiling, the knife slicing into things. Or maybe it's because Atsushi is here, making this noise. The apartment feels lived in. The loneliness is still here, but it has retracted itself into the walls like a ghost, purged by Atsushi's absent-minded humming of a song Dazai doesn't recognize.

It becomes a habit. Through thick and thin, even when everything else is falling apart until it's put back together, Atsushi is in his kitchen every week, filling his fridge with all sorts of food. Don't eat the same thing two days in a row, Atsushi tells him, so that you don't get bored. They watch a movie afterwards, or whatever is on TV. Sometimes Atsushi falls asleep on the couch or on the tatami mats, sometimes he's awake enough to leave before midnight. A year passes and they've broken the routine only a couple of times when they were both in other prefectures on investigations or odd jobs here and there. And even then, Atsushi calls him and checks if he's eaten, hydrated enough and gotten enough sleep.

—

It's also a year later that Atsushi is backed into a corner, in a place he cannot escape.

They're at an izakaya, having what would be a normal after-work dinner, and a rare one where Dazai joins. They are also celebrating that Kyouka-chan met her soulmate. After the shovel talk from Yosano-san and the director and Ranpo-san confirming that the guy has nothing suspicious about him, they deemed it safe to celebrate.

Yosano-san takes a gulp of her beer. Her cheeks are already flushed but she hasn't lost her bearings. Or maybe she did. She points at Atsushi and reminds everyone: "now everyone has met their soulmate except you."

Atsushi chokes on his orange juice.

Usually this would be the point where he would excuse himself to the bathroom, or any other reason not to be here right now. Except that he is sandwiched between Kyouka and Kenji and his back is against a wall. To top it all off, Yosano says, "you always slip away when it's your turn— no more of that. It's time to spill the beans."

Atsushi sets down his glass and hides his hands beneath the table. Kyouka-chan grabs his sleeve. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to," she says in her usual quiet voice. So she knows something.

(Dazai is conflicted. He doesn't want Atsushi to give in to pressure, but he also wants to know. He sips his drink and says nothing.)

Atsushi smiles down at Kyouka, awed at her concern. "It's alright. I can't hide it forever."

Dazai leans forward in his seat, and so does everyone. Even Ranpo-san. Whatever courage Atsushi had, it flies away with all the eyes honed on him. He glances at Dazai once, and Dazai's grip tightens around his cup.

"Um," he starts.

"Have you been looking for them?" Yosano throws, impatient.

"I— well, I did meet them, by accident." Yosano slams her cup on the table, and her eyes are like fire. "It was a little over a year ago," Atsushi finishes, doing his best not to flinch.

"So around the time you joined the agency. I don't understand, Atsushi, why haven't you said anything?"

"The thing is—" he starts, then his voice breaks. Kyouka's arm shifts and Dazai can tell she's holding his hand under the table. It was Dazai who shoved her in Atsushi's tiny apartment, so he shouldn't complain that they've gotten close. But he can't help but wish it was him who Atsushi confided in. "The thing is," Atsushi clears his throat, "they don't like me."

No one speaks. Yosano hums a quiet 'Oh' into her beer.

"It's fine though!" Atsushi jumps. "I don't mind as long as they're happy."

"Atsushi," Kunikida interjects, stern as ever. "The soulmate bond is nothing to make light of. They have to like you. It's embedded within them from birth. They are literally your other half. You have to go back and persuade them. You can't just give up."

At this, Atsushi's face hardens. "None of that matters. I decided to respect their choice." The moment passes and his jaw relaxes, then he looks like himself again. "I think, had we met in other circumstances we would have been great together. Like every other couple. But when I met them they were already in a relationship."

Yosano gasps and clutches her chest. Naomi slaps a hand over her mouth and the director looks like he'll kill that person if he gets their name.

Atsushi's soulmate had done the unspeakable, which is also what everyone thinks Dazai did. They did not wait.

"Is it someone we know?" Kunikida chokes out.

"I won't tell you their name. I don't want anyone to go about harassing them."

"How could you be so selfless," Naomi says, her voice weak.

"Isn't that what you do for someone you love?" Atsushi replies, his chin resting on his hands. In his eyes there's no longer any sadness. "Shouldn't I want them to be happy and safe?"

"I propose a toast," Yosano-san cuts in to end the argument she has started. "To Atsushi and his unfathomable selflessness. Cheers."

Everyone raises their glass. The conversation shifts to more uplifting things like the new restaurant that opened down the street and whose turn it is to go shopping with Yosano-san. Atsushi laughs and smiles like nothing is wrong. Dazai glances at him every now and then. Is it alright to let it go? Should he barge in on Atsushi's private life and offer his help, like Atsushi had done for him? Because he feels that Atsushi is also saying those things to cope. He sips his drink in silence. He won't barge in, but he will get to the bottom of it another way.

—

It's meal-prep day, again. Dazai helps separate each portion into a container, now a little more than a passive spectator but still not allowed to touch the stove. Once the fridge is stacked, they sit at his kitchen table enjoying one of the many dinners Atsushi has prepared. The apartment fills with their idle chatter. But it's more than that. It's Atsushi's shoes in the genkan, his jacket thrown over the sofa in the living room, the few shirts Dazai convinced him to keep in the dresser, and all the traces of him being here. This is nice. This is what Atsushi's soulmate is missing out on. In a way, Dazai is lucky that Atsushi was rejected by his soulmate, because otherwise this, this, whatever that he cannot put into words, wouldn't have ever come to be.

He feels Atsushi staring and looks up. To his surprise, Atsushi holds his gaze. His eyes are still, sharp in a way that should be alarming but isn't. It's almost like Dazai is being admired. He mentally slaps himself. His mind likes to make stuff up.

"What is it, Atsushi-kun?"

Atsushi doesn't answer right away. "Your person, don't they get jealous that someone else is coming here and cooking for you?"

"There's no reason to be jealous when you trust your partner."

"Aren't they afraid I might steal you away?"

He blinks.

"Because I might," Atsushi says, like it's nothing. He gets up from his chair, circles the table and stops where Dazai is sitting, towering over him. Dazai's grip tightens on his chopsticks. Atsushi, already too much into his personal space, lifts Dazai's chin with his index finger. His eyes have never looked so intense. Dazai feels his face burn. "Do you want me to steal you away?" A pause. "If you want me to, I will."

He can't find anything to say, frozen in Atsushi's hand. "You don't have to answer right now," Atsushi offers after a while. Though it couldn't have been long, it only felt that way. Atsushi then takes his finger back and returns to his chair. Dazai's face falls back into place. It's like he's fallen apart and the only thing holding him together had been Atsushi's finger. He stares into his bowl, if only to escape. Atsushi is no longer looking at him. He clears his throat. "I— I need to. I just." He tries to articulate more then gives up, runs to the bathroom and shuts himself there.

In the mirror, his face is a scarlet flustered mess. He splashes cold water onto it but it changes nothing. He feels his lungs heave and sits in the tub for a while, hyperventilating with his hands pressed on his cheeks. What the hell was that? A confession? A confession! That was so sly and uncalled for. How dare he catch Dazai off guard. But then he always does.

When Dazai's breath settles, he fans himself and prepares to get out. But then. A confession! A confession. Huh. When did Atsushi start feeling that way? How? What triggered it? How long has he kept it hidden? Dazai shakes his head. It makes sense for Atsushi, who has been rejected by his soulmate, to grow romantic feelings for someone he trusts. And it wouldn't be wrong for Dazai, who doesn't have a soulmate, to welcome his advances. He shakes his head again; he's getting way ahead of himself. Does he even like Atsushi like that? There's the domesticity, the niceness. The unexplainable backflips his brain does when Atsushi is around. If he could choose someone to be his soulmate, he might choose Atsushi. He would. He will. But if Atsushi's soulmate got their head out of their ass and came back for him, well, Dazai should let him go, then. He takes himself out of the tub. In the mirror he finds his face a normal color. Almost normal. He washes it again just in case and opens the bathroom door.

In the kitchen, Atsushi is leaning against the sink, hands fisted in his pockets. When he sees Dazai, he whips himself around and pretends to wash a bowl that's already been washed. Dazai takes the bowl from him and dries it with a dish towel.

"I'm sorry," Atsushi rushes to say, "that was so rude, I take it all back!"

Dazai's hand stills over the bowl. "Don't apologize."

"But I should. It was so awful of me, right after you said they trust you. If you want me to stop coming over, I understand."

"I don't want you to stop coming over."

Atsushi chances a glance at him. "You're not mad?"

"No," Dazai laughs a little. Why does Atsushi always think he'll get mad? "I'm rather flattered," he says and waits for Atsushi to react. Atsushi smiles a little, and it doesn't reach his eyes. "Did you mean it? You know. The part about the stealing."

Atsushi stiffens. "I meant it when I said it. But I take it back now."

"So you won't do it."

"I won't."

"Alright," Dazai nods, and he's a little disappointed. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. They watch a movie after and it's a tiny bit awkward but not enough to cut the evening short. Atsushi goes back to his dorm at a reasonable hour and Dazai sits alone in his apartment, wondering what would've happened if he hadn't lied.

—

Remember once I told you about
How before I heard it from your mouth
My name would always hit my ears
As such an awful sound

— Hozier, First Time

—

It's nothing out of the usual. They stop at a bookstore on the way home and he doesn't remember who said they had a book to buy, but soon enough they're scattered at every corner. Kenji by the fauna and flora section making excited noises, Kyouka at the mystery section with Ranpo-san over her shoulder.

At the Japanese literature shelf he treads quietly. Atsushi is on the other side, only his eyes visible through the shelves. Dazai watches him for no reason at all. He's always watching Atsushi, somehow, with or without intention. He tells himself that in contrast with the day they first met where Atsushi was starving and on the brink of death, this Atsushi, the one who has time to enjoy trivial things, looking at him makes Dazai happy. That's all there is to it.

As if realizing he's being ogled, Atsushi lifts his head and meets Dazai's gaze. Time stops there. He's sure their colleagues are making noise but he can't hear any of it. Atsushi takes a step. Dazai takes a step with him. They walk together with the shelves between them. Nothing is real except Atsushi's eyes, drawing him in— until Atsushi turns away and disappears.

There's a noise stuck in his throat that never makes it out. It's only then that he realizes how fast his heart is beating. He crosses his arms over his chest in a feeble attempt to calm down. He did not understand what just happened and it frightens him so much that he decides he doesn't need to understand. It's Atsushi-kun. Nothing about him needs to make sense, nothing ever does. He fans his face and at that moment Atsushi appears again, peering up at him.

"Are you alright?"

"Why are you asking?"

There's a brief flash of hurt in Atsushi's eyes, but he's quick to change the subject. "Did you find something you like?"

"No, not really," Dazai answers while making sure Atsushi can't see his face. In the deepest part of him he knows he wants to take Atsushi by the shoulders and scream, what are you doing to me. What do you want. Why. It takes a few seconds to feel like himself again and he pretends to skim through the spines. That's when he sees it; the author's name. The exact same kanji. He takes the book and turns to Atsushi; "I didn't know you had the same name as someone famous."

Atsushi takes the book and blinks down at it. The author, Nakajima Atsushi, and the title, Light, Wind and Dreams.

On the back it says the author died in the 1940s. Perhaps Atsushi's great grandfather? He's about to ask when Kunikida calls out that everyone is leaving. Atsushi lifts his head too, and his face is white with terror. He shoves the book back into the shelf and drags Dazai away, as if to escape.

Dazai comes back a day later and buys the book. He finds another one by the same author, curiously titled The Moon over the Mountain and Other Stories, and buys that too.

The Moon over the Mountain is a short story about, lo and behold, a man who turns into a tiger. He is stuck in that form, unable to turn back. Not only that, but the character mirrors Atsushi's feelings of inadequacy. It's the loneliest thing Dazai has ever read. He puts it down then picks it up and reads it all again. At 10pm he's tired of keeping it to himself and texts Atsushi to come over.

In less than a minute there's the sound of Atsushi's footsteps in the hallway, then a soft knock on the door. Dazai lets him in, and of course the first thing Atsushi notices is the book set on the coffee table, and the white tiger on its cover. They stare wordlessly, until Dazai says, "I think you should read it."

"I already know what's in it."

"Then—"

"I don't understand, I don't know, don't ask me."

Atsushi shakes his head and sits on the couch with his hands in his hoodie pockets. He stares at the book cover but makes no move to touch it.

"I had a weird reaction yesterday, so you went back and bought it."

"I was—" worried— "curious."

"Curious about what? The ability? the name?" Atsushi's smile is empty, and Dazai is suddenly afraid. "It's just a story. There's nothing more to it."

He sits next to Atsushi and their shoulders are touching. Atsushi stares at where they connect and something about him softens, then he's Atsushi again. "I never liked how it went down, the story, I mean. It's the loneliest thing ever," he says, echoing Dazai's thoughts. "But yesterday I remembered something, and I'm not even sure it really happened, but it scared me so much, the idea that back then someone tried to tell me—" he stops to breathe. "I was four, I think, maybe five. I remember someone pointing to the cover of this book and saying, look, that's you."

He takes one hand out of his pocket and thumbs at the book cover. "I couldn't read at the time, but I really liked the picture. Then I learned to read, and— I don't—" It cuts there. He doesn't speak for a while and Dazai waits. "I know this is my name, and yet. At the orphanage no one ever called me by it. To them, I was 'boy' or 'runt' or things like that. A boy without a name. When I first joined the agency Kunikida-san gave me an earful for not having any sort of identification on me. Then I went from one office to another and they'd all told me I'm not in the database. I know when my birthday is but it might as well be another day. I might as well be someone else, but—" he shrugs. "Well, I might have given this name to myself because I was a dumb child who thought it was cool, but who cares. It's my name. Even if it's not real."

Dazai rests his chin in his palm. He distantly feels that the discovery should alarm him, but instead he is at peace. Whatever the character felt in the story, this is the opposite of it. "I like your name. It suits you. I could never imagine you otherwise."

Atsushi also leans his face on his own hand, mirroring Dazai. "You think so? I like your name too. I like hearing myself say it."

Atsushi's eyes are so easily settled on him. The weight of his gaze is comfortable, warm. Dazai thinks about saying, I like hearing you call my name, because he does. But the silence is nice. He has so many questions but it can wait.

"I think, the headmaster and the orphanage staff," Atsushi starts again, "they were wrong about so many things."

"Like what?" Dazai asks carefully.

"The headmaster used to say that I should never look for my soulmate. He even said, if they found me, I should run the other way and spare them—"

He glances at his side and sees that Atsushi has gone still. Not even the usual nervous fidget. It takes all his self-restraint not to speak, and in the end Atsushi resumes. "He said, until I have earned the right to take up space in the world, I shouldn't burden them with my uselessness. And I believed that. There were so many chances. I could have looked for my soulmate. But I did nothing. I can't blame them for not waiting."

Ah. So that's how it is.

"The headmaster was wrong though," Atsushi says and his voice is alive again. Dazai realizes he had missed it. "I know I'm not useless. If I looked for my soulmate it would have worked out. Maybe. Not that I'm going to do anything about it now, but— well. I just wanted you to know."

Dazai raised his head. Atsushi shrugs his shoulders, and Dazai cocks his brow, perplexed. "Because I think you should know," Atsushi smiles and the lines of his face soften in the low lamp light.

When Dazai gives no answer, Atsushi says in a small voice, "did I overstep?"

"What— no." He thinks for a moment. "I don't want you to be afraid to tell me anything, Atsushi-kun. Whatever it is, you know I will listen."

Atsushi turns away and covers his face with his hand. Dazai narrows his eyes. Why would Atsushi be flustered at that? He nudges Atsushi's shoulder with his own, gets a nudge back and they laugh a little. Atsushi goes back to his apartment and there's so much Dazai still doesn't understand, but for now, this is enough.

—

The summer ends and in the passing of time, Atsushi's retracted confession remains a background thought he wants to address but isn't brave enough to. He is reminded of it every time their hands brush casually, every time he fixes any strand of Atsushi's hair that doesn't need to be fixed. He is also reminded of it when, a week before Christmas, Naomi and Haruno gang up on Atsushi and make him sign up to a dating app. Dazai pretends to be sleeping while everyone piles up on the other couch, Atsushi at the center with everyone looking over his shoulder, voting on each swipe. Even Kunikida has joined in to scrutinize every dating profile. Atsushi is embarrassed by the whole ordeal, but soon enough he is no longer taking it so seriously and laughs along.

The conversation moves on to directing Atsushi in a chat with his first acceptable match. Dazai had already left the room, but he can hear the muffled "no, I can't say that, he'll think I'm creepy!" and "don't be too forward" interrupted with "but you should appear interested." Atsushi groans from the middle, but by the end of the day he has secured a date. He gets pointers on how to choose an outfit and is promptly shooed out of the office. Dazai watches him from the window, skipping in the snow to wherever that person is waiting for him.

He retreats to his spinning office chair, and stares at Atsushi's paperwork that Kunikida let slide just to send him off on this date. Dazai should also be happy with this development. He had wanted Atsushi to forget about his soulmate and pursue something real. And Atsushi had taken back his confession. He probably doesn't feel that way anymore, if he did at all. Dazai shouldn't be disappointed. He has no right to be.

He stays in the office until it gets dark, and when he leaves he wanders around town with no desire to go back home. He finds himself across from the supermarket, and wonders how he got here on autopilot. Then it hits him. It's meal-prep day.

It might be best to go to the bar and get a drink. He turns to do just that, and almost bumps into Atsushi, who had been walking towards him.

They stare.

"I was just going to call you," Atsushi says, panting in his scarf.

Dazai glances at the supermarket, then at Atsushi. "You didn't have to cut your date short to shop and cook for me, you know."

"It was a bubble tea date, it wasn't meant to take long. We still have time."

Atsushi means to cross the street and enter the supermarket, but Dazai catches him by the wrist. "We can meal-prep tomorrow," he hears himself say, "tonight let me treat you instead."

Atsushi follows him after little protest. The place Dazai chooses isn't fancy but it's cozy enough and he knows the food is delicious. Atsushi's eyes light up when he starts eating and the bubble tea date is far away and forgotten. They talk a mile a minute and even after they're done with their food, Dazai is not yet out of his high. He finds a public ice skating rink and attempts to teach Atsushi to skate, except that he doesn't know much himself. They both fall on their asses and laugh. They hang around a yakitori stand, and he lets Atsushi eat some of his, because how could he not. They get hot chocolate after, walk around the city some more. Dazai doesn't want the night to end and Atsushi doesn't say he wants to go home. They look at exhibits of Christmas trees and visit a small shrine. Around 10pm it gets too cold and the snow picks up speed. He reluctantly agrees to go home, Atsushi leading the way. When they're on the stairs, he grabs Atsushi's forearm and says, "why don't you stay over?"

Atsushi must have picked up on the something that Dazai himself does not understand, because he puts no resistance and follows wordlessly. In Dazai's apartment, Atsushi murmurs something about the cold and making tea. Dazai follows him to the kitchen and watches with his chin propped on his hands.

"What do you want for Christmas?" he asks suddenly.

"You don't have to get me anything. We're doing a secret Santa at the agency, so I'll definitely get one present at least."

It goes unspoken that Dazai always excludes himself from parties and events like that. No amount of pestering would ever change him. But right now he wishes he did participate, just to have an excuse to buy something for Atsushi.

"I still want to give you something," he insists. "Be honest, whatever you want I'll get it for you."

Atsushi turns off the stove. He keeps his gaze on Dazai, and there is that same intensity from the retracted confession. Dazai feels his heartbeat pick up.

"You want me to be honest?"

"Please."

Atsushi bounces on his heels for a bit, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. He whips himself around and busies his hands with pouring the tea. "It's fine. You don't have to give me anything."

Dazai pulls himself to his feet and closes the distance between them. "Now you have to tell me." Atsushi avoids his eyes, and Dazai is having none of it. He bumps their shoulders together. "Is it too expensive? Don't worry about the money this time, it's my treat."

"It's not about money," Atsushi says quietly. "I just— I can never ask you."

Dazai's grin stretches across his face. "Don't be shy, you can tell me."

"Well you can't do anything about it!"

Atsushi slaps a hand over his mouth and his eyes dart around in panic. Dazai takes a step forward, he takes a step back, until his back is against the fridge. Dazai towers over him, and he's never seen Atsushi look so ashamed.

"Atsushi-kun. You're making me worry."

"Can you let it go?" Atsushi says without looking at him.

"No."

"I don't want to tell you."

"I feel like you should." When he gets no answer, he decides to raise the stakes. "If you don't tell me I'll ask Ranpo-san. I will bribe him with enough sweets. Or you can tell me yourself, right now."

Atsushi sighs. He seems to consider his escape routes. In the end he speaks with a hand over his mouth. "A kiss."

"Huh?"

"A kiss from you," Atsushi lets out, and he's blushing to his ears. "I want it but I would never ask for it, because you're in a relationship and that would be cheating."

Dazai blinks and steps back.

"Because you know how I feel about you, right? Even if I say nothing, I still—" Atsushi ruffles his own hair. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Shit. We were having such a nice time and I ruined everything. I should go."

Dazai shakes his head and leans against the sink. "Just, stay there. You did not make me uncomfortable. But that was— I didn't know—" that you still thought of me like that, he almost says. Atsushi's mouth is twisted in distress, and Dazai realizes too late that he's been staring.

There's nothing wrong with it, in fact. Dazai's lover doesn't exist. There's no one who will be cheated on. It's a lie that he made up to spare himself the pity. He thinks for a moment, then angles his body to face Atsushi's.

"I mean, I thought you'd never ask."

Atsushi's shoulders jump.

"I said I'd give you whatever you want, didn't I?"

"But it's cheating."

Dazai takes a deep breath. "It's not cheating. We're in an open relationship."

Or he could tell the truth. But that will make him look lame, and maybe Atsushi won't want to kiss him anymore.

Atsushi, after the initial surprise, avoids his eyes for a time. Dazai can almost hear the gears turning in his head. What the girls had said earlier today comes back to him, don't be too eager but still appear interested. He smiles to himself and Atsushi sees him smile and he doesn't know if he's giving off any malice. Finally, Atsushi asks him, "you're sure they won't mind?"

"100%."

"Okay. Just one kiss."

"Okay."

He closes the distance between them and lifts a hand to Atsushi's cheek. Atsushi's eyes widen and the back of his head hits the fridge.

"Wait," he says, breathing hard. "We're going to do this only once, I want it to be perfect." He skips under Dazai's arm and fills a glass of water then downs it all at once. When Dazai turns to him, he slaps his hands on his cheeks, but his blush only darkens.

"Atsushi-kun," Dazai says, stepping closer. "There's no need to be so nervous. Take deep breaths."

Atsushi nods and fills his lungs with air. As he exhales, Dazai leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth. Atsushi blinks up at him and his eyes are like saucers. "A test," Dazai supplies, way too amused and so eager he can no longer stop himself. When he leans in the second time, he tilts his head and his lips land where he needs them to. Atsushi is still, providing just enough pressure back. Then he opens his mouth and kisses back, and everything falls into place.

... What the hell.

The kiss couldn't have lasted more than three seconds. It ends but they stay close, sharing breaths. Atsushi's hands are fisted in the front of his shirt, and Dazai's own hands never left Atsushi's neck. They should pull away. It was supposed to be just one kiss. It was supposed to—

He slots their mouths together again, and Atsushi meets him in the middle. It's messy, and hot, and everything he didn't know he wanted. He slips his tongue in and Atsushi keens and if he had any self restraint in the beginning then the last of it was swept away when he heard that sound, when he felt it disappear within him. One hand creeps in Atsushi's hair, the other feeling up his back, pressing their bodies flush together. Atsushi's hands cradle his face. Is kissing supposed to feel this good? He is thirsty even as he is being sated. It's not enough. His fingers dig into Atsushi's hip and suddenly he's scared of what he might do. He pulls away and finds Atsushi's eyes ready to bring him back, wide and dark and dancing with not-so-innocent things.

He eases his grip but can't bring himself to let go. All he wants to do is squeeze. And take this somewhere which isn't the kitchen. "We should stop," Atsushi whispers, looking so utterly and beautifully disheveled. He lifts his hands from Dazai's face. Dazai instantly grabs his wrists and puts them back.

Atsushi is startled, but he says nothing. He keeps still for a moment while his breath settles, and his eyes soften into the same affectionate gaze that makes Dazai's knees go weak. He strokes Dazai's cheeks with his thumbs, and Dazai, realizing he will have to come up with an excuse, slowly releases him. They lean their backs on the counter side by side and a good distance apart. It gives Dazai the space to be flabbergasted at what happened. He had kissed people before, but never like this. He had never been so close to losing control, hell, he has never, ever, lost control. Is it the anticipation? The retracted confession? The connection they already share? Next to him, Atsushi's eyes are pinned to the floor, his chest is heaving and his hand is over his heart.

"That was a good Christmas present," he huffs, finally.

Dazai lets out a chuckle, too scared to speak.

"My heart," Atsushi says in a breathy voice. "I feel like it will keep racing forever."

Dazai detaches himself from the counter— the only thing keeping him sane, really— and presses his hand on Atsushi's chest. And holy shit, Atsushi's heart is slamming in its ribcage. Atsushi licks his lips (a mistake), lifts his hands to Dazai's pulse point near his collar (another mistake) and presses his fingers there. "Your— you also—"

Dazai's mouth is on him again before he gets it out. Atsushi is startled but he returns Dazai's hopelessness. Oh, I am, hopeless, Dazai thinks distantly. He nips on Atsushi's bottom lip, suckles on it, and Atsushi makes a needy whine that makes Dazai think, I could do this forever. I could drink him whole and I would still want more. Atsushi breaks away and braces his arms on Dazai's shoulders.

"We should really stop," he says between pants.

I don't want to stop, Dazai wants to say. "I got carried away," he answers instead. Maybe Atsushi will fondly scold him but cave in without Dazai needing to ask.

"We both got carried away."

Atsushi says this but doesn't remove himself from Dazai. He's also under this gravitational pull, whatever it might be, and Dazai speaks before he can overthink and run away, "one more."

He watches the shift in Atsushi's eyes, the quirk of his mouth. "Can I do it this time?"

Dazai nods and Atsushi tiptoes to him, looping his arms around Dazai's neck, stopping twice on the way. The brush of his lips is slow, hesitant, as if they weren't eating face a minute ago, and Dazai almost laughs. But this is also nice. He matches Atsushi's rhythm. They rock against each other in tandem and Atsushi's mouth is warm and perfect and this can't be the last kiss. There will never be another kiss like this.

They pull back for air only because they have to. The spell is not yet broken. Dazai's mouth is sore and he hopes Atsushi's is too. He keeps his eyes on Atsushi's face and flushed cheeks, memorizing the scene. Atsushi's eyes, a thin golden ring around a dilated pupil. His warm weight against Dazai's body. His fingers in Dazai's hair. They could stay like that. They could go to bed, or do something naughty in the kitchen, right here on the floor. Or on the counter. Or the dinner table. The possibilities are endless and taunting, but Atsushi still lets his heels fall back on the floor, and just like that he's gone from Dazai's space, clearing his throat into the silence.

"Thank you," he says after a while.

Dazai shrugs, not trusting himself to speak.

"So it's an open relationship," Atsushi adds and Dazai hadn't expected him to go back to that. "You don't mind if they also did something like this?"

"It's part of the deal. We trust each other." Dazai should stop making stuff up as he goes. One day it will all come back to be the end of him.

Atsushi searches his face. "As long as you're happy," he says and there are those unspoken things again. But hasn't a wall been breached between them? Dazai can demand to know. If he asked, Atsushi would tell him. "I don't think I should stay over," Atsushi says now because Dazai is taking too long to admit to what he wants. The weight of lies comes crashing down on him, because without it he would have walked over, taken Atsushi into his arms and kissed him silly. Because Atsushi deserves honesty. Not having to believe he is someone's side piece.

They don't speak much after and Atsushi smiles as he ushers himself out the door. Dazai is left alone in his apartment, and the rooms have become too big and empty. He doesn't sleep at all. He lays on his futon, staring at the ceiling and haunted by everything he wishes he had said.

Chapter Text

In the seven days until Christmas, Dazai is hyper aware of Atsushi's presence around him; every whiff of his smell in the air, every sway of the long strand of his hair when he turns or does anything at all. And most shamelessly, the movement of his mouth as he speaks or bites his lip when typing a difficult word. Dazai drifts in and out of the office and all he sees is Atsushi, all he hears is Atsushi. Everything else is muffled and far away and he doesn't care.

It's bordering obsession. He thinks about Atsushi all the time but they barely even speak, awkward ever since the kiss. Dazai is torn between the want to fling himself in Atsushi's lap and the anxious need to get away from his line of sight. So: he likes Atsushi. It took him this long to realize it, never mind all the hints Atsushi had been throwing at him. It may have started with Atsushi cooking for him, hell, it may have started on the day they met and Dazai thought to himself, what a beautiful person. The alarms should have fired from the moment where he insisted on Atsushi joining the ADA.

He likes Atsushi. He doesn't have a soulmate. Atsushi's soulmate is out of the picture, being stupid wherever they are. He could walk over his own pride and say that he lied. Atsushi would understand and forgive him. Or would he? After all the shenanigans Dazai has pulled? Isn't this how people lose their trust in one another? Maybe he should say that his lover had died, or left him, or something that makes sense. He can end the story he has crafted, and Kunikida might say 'serves you right' but Atsushi will sympathize, having also been abandoned. Then there will be no reason to stop, and Dazai can worm his way into Atsushi's arms again.

He thinks it over one of the meals Atsushi had cooked for him. The fridge is stacked halfway through. These bento boxes are nothing special in the grand scheme of things. They are normal, in the best sense of the word. They aren't hastily put together, they have been decorated with care. If someone were to picture a normal bento box, this would be it. The sight of them in his fridge fills him with warmth; who would've thought that someone would come along and gift Dazai with an ordinary bento box? Him, the spawn of the devil and the terror of the underground. Him, next to someone who will stand in his kitchen and turn their back to him while tending to the stove, then sit him and watch TV like normal people. Who could have imagined.

It's a pretty picture. It wouldn't be wrong at all, no, it would be right for Dazai to do the utmost selfish thing of keeping Atsushi all to himself. Atsushi's soulmate, if they returned, can go and die in a ditch made of their own regrets. He memorizes the plot which he will announce to Atsushi on Christmas day, which also happens to be meal-prep day. Gifts were exchanged the day before and today everyone relaxes at home, unless they have a date, which he is glad Atsushi doesn't. They don't need any more obstacles right now. Atsushi shows up in the afternoon and goes about cooking as usual. He rambles about a million things and Dazai listens with hearts in his eyes. He's almost vibrating on his feet and all he can think about is kissing and touching.

Atsushi lays out the containers and starts dividing portions. The two containers for Dazai's lover are also there. This is a good opportunity to interject, by the way, Atsushi-kun, you don't need to do that anymore, and Dazai is about to, but Atsushi speaks first.

"I know this is out of the blue, but you know, since we kissed and all." His face colors and Dazai flashes him a grin. Atsushi waves his hands awkwardly. "I'm not going to ask again, that was a one-time thing. I just thought..."

"Hmm?"

"Can I see your soul mark?"

The room is devoid of air for a short moment. Dazai forces himself to breathe.

"Why?"

"There's no harm in it. It's just me."

He doesn't answer.

"I can show you mine," Atsushi says as he thumbs his own wrist band. Dazai gets up and his chair slides back with a screech.

"Atsushi-kun," he starts, panicked, "don't do that. I don't want to see it."

Atsushi stares at him, baffled. He stares back with the same disbelief.

"So you would kiss me, but the soul mark is too much for you."

Either there's a part of the conversation Dazai has missed, or Atsushi is not making sense at all. He swallows. The silence is dangerous. If he says the wrong thing, the sparks in the air will combust and the room will catch fire.

"That's different. Soul marks are far too intimate, you can't just show them to people."

Atsushi's face changes in that split second, and Dazai knows he fucked up. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.

"You aren't ‘people’," Atsushi says then, softly. All the light in him has gone, and Dazai mentally slaps himself.

Atsushi returns to the bento boxes; the lids are fastened and the fridge is stacked in seconds. He is further from Dazai with every second that passes. "All done," he says a little too loud, "I'm going home now."

"I was hoping you'd stay for dinner," Dazai tries because fuck it, he had a plan, and he can still salvage this. But Atsushi has already walked away and started to put on his coat. Dazai runs after him. "Atsushi-kun, I don't understand why you're so upset, just, please come back and talk to me."

"What do you mean you don't understand?" Atsushi snaps and his face is wet with tears. "I don't want to be near you right now. ‘People’, you say! I know you don't feel anything for me but for fucks' sake. It's just a soul mark. It won't change anything."

"I—" feel a lot, he almost yells back. But it could make it worse. "Alright, show it to me." Atsushi stares in both anger and surprise. "Clearly this is important to you, so yes, let me see it."

"But you still won't show me yours."

"I'm not comfortable with that."

Atsushi wipes his face on his sleeve. His frown deepens and he stares at his feet. "You know what, it's not that important. I should just go."

Dazai catches him by the wrist, the one where the soul mark is. "Nuh-uh, you're not going anywhere. I insist." Atsushi avoids his eyes but makes no move to pull away. "Do you want to do it or shall I?"

Atsushi shrugs his shoulders, exasperated already. "Go ahead, since you insist."

He pauses there. Maybe this is taking it too far. What he wants is to go back to the kitchen and redo this moment from the beginning. Then again he had wanted to know about Atsushi's soulmate, even if it doesn't matter anymore. He pulls at the wrist band. His fingers tremble despite his best efforts.

In the low light of the doorway, he is met with his own name.

Written in thick characters, clear as day.

He brings it closer to his face, blinking down at it, turning it to catch the light at different angles. The writing is the same.

Atsushi himself is looking down and away. He's using his free hand to cover the bottom of his face, as if bashful. Dazai looks between him and the soul mark and he's not sure what face he's making. They must have stood like that for too long because his hand begins to feel numb. He clears his throat and makes a feeble attempt to put his thoughts into words.

"Atsushi-kun, what is the meaning of this?"

Atsushi turns to him, and it's obvious that's not what he expected to hear. "What do you— it means we're soulmates, of course."

Dazai frowns. It can't be that simple. He has the urge to shake his head but it doesn't feel right. "It doesn't change anything," Atsushi murmurs. All the anger has left him and he wants to relieve Dazai of this distress, because he's always putting himself last, he's always selfless like that.

When Atsushi tries to take his wrist away, Dazai's hand tightens around it. "I need better light," he says loudly, and drags Atsushi to the kitchen. Atsushi yelps at being manhandled but he doesn't say anything. Dazai then inspects the soul mark all over again. He takes his time, scrutinizing each stroke in his own name. He swipes his thumb on it and Atsushi shudders.

"Don't do that," Atsushi says under his breath.

Dazai, curious now, swipes his thumb again with pressure. Atsushi's eyes squeeze shut and the same shudder goes through his whole body. He glares at Dazai beneath his lashes, and suddenly Dazai isn't panicking anymore. He didn't realize he had been. "So it's real," he breathes out. Atsushi gasps and finally takes his wrist away.

"What the hell, of course it's real! Why would you even say that?!"

Atsushi clutches his wrist to his chest as if protecting something precious. And it is, precious. A name. Which he doesn't have. It doesn't make any sense. Atsushi steals a glance at him, shifting from anger to uncertainty, and Dazai doesn't avert his eyes. He gazes shamelessly, taking all of him in, the way he had never allowed himself to, and all the pieces fall into place.

"Would you do the honor?" he asks, holding out his bandaged wrist. Atsushi's head snaps at him. Dazai delights in the mix of surprise and confusion on Atsushi's face, which turns to resignation, then something a little more powerful. He steps into Dazai's space and unties the knot that keeps the bandages together. Then, giving Dazai one last chance, he pauses and meets his eyes. Dazai gives a reassuring smile. He doesn't know if it looked reassuring or tired. Atsushi lets the bandages fall away, and freezes when his eyes fall on Dazai's unmarked skin.

"What— how—"

Ah, he short-circuited.

"A boy without a name," Dazai says softly. Atsushi looks up at him again, mouth open but speechless. "I should've known, when you told me. But I was already convinced that I did not have a soulmate because the universe hates me. Or something like that."

For a minute, Atsushi keeps looking between him and his wrist. He makes intelligible sounds at the back of his throat but nothing that makes sense. In the end he narrows his eyes at the missing soul name, as if expecting it to appear if he waits long enough. His thumbs hover on the inside of Dazai's wrist, but he never touches it.

"So all this time, you didn't know that we're soulmates?" Dazai shakes his head. "All the things I've said to you— you didn't get any of it."

"Nuh-uh."

"Why did you think I was cooking for you," Atsushi says and it fades into a laugh without mirth. "I— you—" he swallows and lets Dazai's wrist fall away. He puts some distance between them and this isn't how it's supposed to go. "No wonder you started dating someone else. You just didn't know."

There, the other predicament Dazai has to solve.

"I'm sorry for yelling earlier. I assumed you knew and you were— I don't know what I thought." He pauses. "Wow, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense."

"I did lie about a number of things."

"You know nothing needs to change between us, right?" Atsushi says, his tone afraid. "I never wanted to sabotage your relationship. You can keep dating them, and I can keep making you food, and spending time together like before." He hesitates. "I care about you a lot. You know. I'm happy when you're happy."

"Atsushi-kun," he snaps and grabs Atsushi's hands. "Atsushi-kun. I need you to be selfish for once."

Atsushi looks at him, unblinking. "No," he says, and frees himself from Dazai. "I need to sit down. My head is so full of things."

He leaves the kitchen and Dazai watches him in disbelief. How much will it take? He pulls his own hair, ruffles it then lets out a loud sigh. He then straightens it with his fingers and heads to the living room.

He finds Atsushi lying on the tatami mats, staring at the ceiling.

"Atsushi-kun?"

"Sitting is not enough," Atsushi says with a hint of humor. Dazai smiles and sits on his knees.

"Close your eyes and lift your head," he orders softly. Atsushi cocks an eyebrow at him and he adds, "just do it. Please."

Atsushi throws him one last skeptical glance before he does. Dazai scoots closer on the tatami mats. "Alright. You can lie back down now."

Atsushi lowers his head and it lands on Dazai's thighs. He opens his eyes and finds Dazai smiling at him, face upside-down. When he tries to get up, Dazai stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Dazai-san! Even if it's an open relationship this is not okay!"

"I'll break up with them. For you."

Atsushi gasps.

"Didn't you say you'll steal me away? What are you waiting for?"

Atsushi's short-circuited again. Dazai smirks down at him and plays with the locks of his hair.

"I told you I take it back," Atsushi manages, "you've built something with that person. You can't break up with them just because I turned up, it's so unfair. And," there's that look of self-pity Dazai hates so much, "I don't know that I will make you as happy. I don't know if I can."

This is going to be harder than he thought.

"You are making me happy right now. And every minute we spend together."

"This is different," Atsushi whispers.

"Atsushi-kun," he sighs and resigns to his fate. "Would you still like me if I have been doing something very lame?"

Atsushi is puzzled for a moment, then he smiles like he's ready to laugh. "Depends."

He sighs. "You could have taken the easy route and let me end my relationship, and by the way that would've made you look really cool, but no, now I have to tell you the truth— there was no relationship to begin with. I made up that story because I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for me, for not having a soulmate in the first place."

For a moment, Atsushi stares.

He scrambles out of Dazai's space, hits his elbow on the coffee table and falls on his back, then gathers himself upright.

"What the— why— I don't understand any of this!"

It could be worse, Dazai thinks to himself.

"You made everyone think you're an asshole," Atsushi flails around, dangerously close to hyperventilating.

"I prefer the hatred to the pity."

Atsushi narrows his eyes. "Are you lying because you think otherwise I won't cave in?"

Dazai sputters. "It's the truth, I promise you that." Atsushi scoots further away and Dazai feels like crying. "There really isn't anyone. I thought that if everyone thinks I did something awful, they won't dig into it because no sane person would make themselves look like a prick on purpose. But when you came along I wished I didn't lie like that because I wanted you to like me." He stops to breathe. What he means to say next is: if you decide you can't trust me anymore I will die. But it would be the pettiest thing to coerce Atsushi like that. "Do you? still like me?"

"Of course I do," Atsushi says without missing a beat. He hugs his knees to himself and looks at Dazai beneath his lashes.

He doesn't say anything else, and Dazai feels weak. "I'm sorry. I regret every single time I lied."

"I regret that I assumed you knew." Atsushi stretches his limbs, the first sign it's okay to hope— "we both messed up in our own ways. But it's not good to carry regrets."

He cautiously meets Atsushi's eyes. They are warm and adoring like they always are when focused on Dazai, and of course it makes sense, how could it not. "Come back?" he says, tentatively, and Atsushi shuffles on the tatami mats until their knees are touching. Dazai brushes the tips of their fingers, then twines their hands. Atsushi doesn't stop him.

"Why didn't you say anything though? When we first met, on the riverbank."

Atsushi looks down. "Back then, I thought that even if I met my soulmate they wouldn't want me. I thought, when you knew my name and said nothing, that you weren't interested. Then I left it at that."

"That's funny," Dazai smiles despite himself. "When we would eat together I was always thinking your soulmate didn't know what they were missing." He delights in Atsushi's blush and widening eyes. "And when we kissed— even before— I thought that if I got to choose a soulmate for myself, I'd choose you."

Atsushi squirms and avoids his eyes. Dazai suddenly wants to smother him with affection just to see how far he can go. He'll do that some other time. "What will it be then? Are you going to steal me away now?"

Atsushi, face flaming still, smirks at him. "I dunno. I need time to think."

"Atsushi-kun."

"You can't cook and you're a menace. And a dozen other things I can't remember right now."

"Atsushi-kuuunnn," Dazai whines, and because he can't take it any longer he tackles Atsushi into a hug. Atsushi falls on his back laughing, and Dazai nuzzles in his neck.

"You are a menace," Atsushi chuckles in his ear, "but I love you anyway."

It feels good to hear it. Both good and frightening. Maybe, if they weren't in each other's arms he would've gotten flustered and run away. Without thinking he says, "I love you more," and feels Atsushi's smile against his cheek.

"It's a competition now?"

"I will make it a competition if you won't date me."

"Fine, fine," Atsushi laughs again, and it's so easy to listen to him like this, to feel the vibrations in his body. "But you have to tell everyone the truth."

He raises his head to pout at Atsushi. "Why?"

"They deserve to know their friend is not a horrible person, actually."

He's tempted to say: I'm still horrible in other ways. Then again sometimes he is useful and the agency is a nice place to be. "Alright. I'll do it tomorrow."

He leans in for a kiss, but Atsushi says, "when tomorrow?"

"Atsushi-kun!"

"I have to make sure. I won't let you run away."

He props himself on his elbows. Atsushi is getting too good at this, having the gall to smirk up at him.

"You have to tell them tomorrow. In the morning, when Kunikida-san is around." As though taking pity on Dazai, he taps his finger on his chin, thinking. "Alright, you don't have to tell him while you're in range to be hit by a chair. You can send him a long text. Or maybe send it to Ranpo-san. Or Naomi-chan. I'm sure they'd love the gossip from the source," he laughs and Dazai grimaces, even more appalled.

"Can't I have a moment to celebrate?" he whines. It doesn't work at all.

"You have tonight," Atsushi stifles another laugh.

"I suppose I do," he says in an almost-whisper, and Atsushi goes red. Dazai doesn't think before he kisses him. The sparks ignite in between the two of them, and this time he loses himself in it because he doesn't have to wonder what it means. His hand finds Atsushi's. Their fingers intertwine. And, inevitably, their wrists touch.

He would understand then what Atsushi had felt earlier. It's electric, sharp. His body trembles with it. So does Atsushi's. They have no choice but to break the kiss, and Atsushi's eyes are alight unlike anything he had ever seen. It is then that Atsushi untangles their fingers and strokes Dazai's wrist with his thumb. Dazai tries to suppress a whimper, and for a moment he thinks he did, but Atsushi's smug smile tells him that he failed.

Atsushi then nuzzles his cheek on Dazai's wrist like a cat. Dazai hides his face in Atsushi's neck, pressing his mouth to his shoulder in hope to stifle any noise that may or may not come out of him. Atsushi, not yet done with abusing the empty soul mark, licks a stripe along its place, and another whimper escapes. Dazai props himself on his free elbow, ready to tell Atsushi he's such a demon. He's breathing hard and ready to retaliate. Beneath him Atsushi's grin is wide and ecstatic and still pressed against Dazai's wrist. He has the gall to kiss it while keeping eye contact, and Dazai almost flops on top of him again.

Instead he takes in the scene he wound up into. He had heard that soul marks are like magic. He had never imagined he would know what it is. All of this feels good, the kissing, the touching. So this is what having a soulmate is like. He smiles and Atsushi smiles back, holds his gaze for a moment, comfortably. It's that easy, isn't it.

He sits up and Atsushi sits up with him, a little confused but neither of them says anything. He sees that his legs are straddling Atsushi's and does nothing to change that. His arms loop around Atsushi's neck with a will of their own, and Atsushi's hands steady him at the hips. The proximity is nice. It's that niceness he's used to. The same as when they're eating in his kitchen or watching TV, amplified into its real size, unclouded by doubt. Their noses touch. He kisses Atsushi because why wouldn't he now. Why wouldn't he, always.

"Atsushi-kun," he says when they break for air, "do you want to stay the night?"

"Maybe," Atsushi replies, still feeling smug. Dazai shoots him a glare and he rolls his eyes. "Of course I want to stay, how could I even dream of leaving you alone after all of this."

"Hmm," Dazai draws out, feeling tired all of a sudden. "We should eat something. Then take a bath and cuddle." He waits a moment. "Do you want to take a bath together?"

Atsushi sputters and flushes red. It's about time Dazai stops being the only one getting flustered.

"Um, we should take things slow."

"How slow?" Dazai whispers against his lips. "Haven't you been waiting long enough?"

"I haven't been waiting at all," Atsushi answers. He takes the collar of Dazai's shirt between his fingertips and plays with it absent-mindedly. "I don't know, really. Is your tub even big enough for both of us?"

"We'll make it work," Dazai says knowing well that the tub is cramped as it is for one person. The small space will make for a lot of fun, he muses, but he doesn't need to say that now. Atsushi raises a brow as if reading his mind and he feels embarrassed. Eventually his stomach would growl and Atsushi would laugh. They would somehow pull away from each other (only a little) and eat at the kitchen table like always. They'd take turns in the bath then dry each other's hair, and Dazai had underestimated the intimacy of having his hair touched and taken care of. And all of the skin on skin closeness he had been craving and suddenly got. He doesn't even know how they make it to the futon, carried on a cloud, and for once sleep comes easy, unhindered by thought.

—

In the morning he wakes with his nose in Atsushi's nape. His arms are encircled around Atsushi, and their fingers are entwined. Atsushi's holding his hand close to his chest, like it is something he's afraid to lose. Dazai closes his eyes and breathes in the scent around him. He finds that he loves Atsushi's smell. It reminds him of autumn, though he can't put his finger on it. Or is this another soulmate thing? Will the futon smell like Atsushi now? and the clothes he borrowed? and the walls, and the air. And Dazai himself. He exhales and in the loss of tension, he feels Atsushi's distant heartbeat against his hand.

It's a while until Atsushi stirs. He turns around, regrettably detaching himself from Dazai's arm, and stretches with a yawn. Cat behavior, Dazai's mind helpfully supplies. He could tease Atsushi about it, but he's not awake enough to speak.

Atsushi's hand finds his again. They play with each other's fingers, and neither of them says anything. The silence is precious and their faces are close enough to share breaths. He takes in Atsushi's eyes. Their colors are muted in the low winter light, but alive as ever. That's the thing about Atsushi's eyes; they're new each time he happens to see them. But he doesn't have to pretend he happened to see them now. He looks down at their joint hands. Their hold is warm. Like a pocket, but better. This hand, Dazai's mind chimes in again, would look great with a ring on it. He is startled by the thought, and it shows on his face.

"What's wrong?" Atsushi asks.

His eyes dart around in panic, then he finds his footing. "We should go on a date."

Atsushi doesn't answer. His gaze is relaxed, adoring. Like that time at the kitchen table, and that time at the bookstore.

"We should stay in bed all day," Dazai hears himself say.

Atsushi laughs. "I don't care as long as we're together."

"You really like saying the sappiest things, don't you?"

"The truth is, I don't care as long as you're feeding me."

Dazai jabs an elbow at his side and he laughs harder. It turns into a tickle fight because of course it would. A lot of laughs and half-hearted screaming later, Atsushi catches his breath and says, "I feel like I'm forgetting something."

"If you don't remember, then it's not important."

Atsushi hums, then hums some more. "I remember now, you have to tell Kunikida-san."

Dazai gasps in horror and retreats under the blanket until he's a lump inside of it and none of him is visible. "Do I have to?"

"Yes."

"Tomorrow, then."

"You said you'd do it today."

He peeks out of the blanket and shoots Atsushi a glare. "Why can't I prank Kunikida-kun a little longer?"

Atsushi smiles and props himself on his elbow. He has that adoring gaze again, and Dazai suddenly feels like it can't be that hard. "Think of it like another prank," Atsushi says, thinking out loud. "Let's send him a voice memo. You and I together, like an announcement. Then disappear until the new year somewhere. I have been spoiling you for more than a year, I would like to be spoiled back."

Atsushi, when he lets his guard down, can be such a little devil. Dazai crawls to Atsushi's side and reaches for his phone. He pulls the conversation with Kunikida, and his finger hovers over the voice button. "What should I say?"

Atsushi lies on his belly and swings his legs back and forth. It's cute and distracting and Dazai wants to tell him to stop but keeps his mouth shut. "Here, I guess I have stuff to tell him too," Atsushi says as he takes the phone. He starts recording. "Um, hi Kunikida-san, happy holidays! This is Atsushi, I'm with Dazai-san right now. So do you remember when I wanted to get an ID card and it was so hard and all the offices sent me away? It turns out, I don't have a name, actually, I mean, nothing in the records, they were right. And my soulmate doesn't have anything on his wrist. It's a blank space. So, um. Anyway."

He nudges the phone near Dazai's mouth. Dazai sighs but keeps his eyes on Atsushi. Whatever look he has on his face makes Atsushi blush, and he decides that it's worth it. "Yaaa, Kunikida-kun! I hope you're not filling your notebook with impossible new year resolutions, but I know you are, haha! About that thing where I did not wait for my soulmate bla bla bla, it was a prank, actually. My soulmate is Atsushi-kun, and he was playing along all this time!" Atsushi jabs at his side and he winces. "Okay, okay, Atsushi-kun was not, in fact, playing along. Like he said, I have a blank space on my wrist. I thought I didn't have a soulmate and it would've been hard to explain. Um, and it was a lot more fun to prank everyone, so I made up that story about dating someone else and all of that! I wasn't dating anyone, all this time. Atsushi-kun thought I knew and did not say anything, and it was a big misunderstanding but guess what, Atsushi-kun is my boyfriend now!" He pauses. "Welp, I'll leave you while your brain combusts, Kunikida-kun. But seriously, please don't combust. And get some rest, you little workaholic. See you next year!"

He hits send and turns to Atsushi, grinning in triumph. Atsushi's face is scrunched in a grimace. He swings his head about, then gives a small smile. "Geez, I knew you wanted to confuse him even more, but wow."

"I got the point across."

"I guess you did," Atsushi says. He looks satisfied. Dazai wants to say something but is cut-off by a yawn. When it ends, Atsushi kisses him.

They lounge in the futon until Atsushi's stomach growls. They get up to eat, then play in the snow, then drink hot chocolate while holding hands. Everything is beautiful, and the loneliness is but a distant thought in the wind.

—

Whenever Christmas is closing in he is reminded of how they got together. He regards the incident with fondness, and when telling other people, he strategically glosses over his own idiocy. In private he thinks about the two years he wasted while his soulmate was right there next to him, and all the times he hurt Atsushi's feelings without knowing, and it makes him want to bury himself under a rock. Maa, maa, Atsushi would wave his hand dismissively; and of course it's the hand where he wears that promise ring Dazai got him on their one-year anniversary. It wasn't so bad, he would say. He would make them sit on the couch and watch TV like back then, or try and fail to ice-skate, or hop between street-food stands, and all those normal things they like to do.

It's not good to carry regrets, Atsushi would then say. Dazai would nod and give him a kiss on the cheek. It has always been this simple. There was never anything to fear.