Chapter Text
The clock struck eleven, yet another morning in the Agency. Within the office, barely anybody was left, since they were either out to solve whatever case they'd been assigned to or worked on files and reports within their private offices. Usually, the communal office was too loud to work in for the more dutiful people, who preferred quiet meeting spaces to the bickering of their colleagues within the ADA.
Atsushi, nervous as the day he'd entered the ADA for the first time, was tapping his foot up and down to some rhythm that the man opposite from him could not decipher. Kunikida was too focused on his laptop, anyway, his fingertips frantically weaving above the keyboard to fill the reports for both himself and Dazai.
His partner had not shown his face for more than a week, and thus the office work fell onto his own shoulders. Usually, Dazai was lazy. His allergy towards anything related to paperwork was remarkable, and Kunikida was used to helping him out - he saw it as his responsibility to not let the agency down, just because the idiot of a partner was incapable of actually doing his office work.
However, Dazai at least worked to fulfill some minimum standard. If this part vanished as well, Kunikida's workload doubled. He still was behind, the blonde thought to himself, and willed himself to work faster. Work harder, make up for the slacking.
It was obvious - at least to Kunikida - that, as much as he despised the other's antics, Dazai had saved his ass from a few tough situations before. By being witty and collected when the time came, and by using his ability and syncing perfectly with Kunikida, as a team. He'd never minded the paperwork. It was alright, a good way to repay the kindness of having his life saved a couple of times.
What he minded were the absences of his partner. A day, alright. It happened - Dazai could've been caught up in an investigation, or have overslept. He constantly lamented about his insomnia. A few days, alright, too, most of the time. A short-handed notice, and Kunikida would be alright, would handle the extra work for him, no problem. He rarely asked questions.
Had barely asked questions when he'd received a call from the Yokohama City Hospital the first time. That day, Dazai had not been in the office for four days. They'd found Dazai's phone, the hospital staff had told him, and called the agency since it was listed as 'work'. What exactly had happened, they weren't allowed to say. Privacy was key.
When Kunikida arrived, Dazai was pale but awake, already waiting at the reception with a sly grin. He'd thrown himself in a river, he'd announced, but it had not worked. Kunikida had wanted to wipe that smile off his face, but had instead struggled to keep his face from scrunching into a worried grimace.
That day he'd found out that he couldn't force Dazai to stay within the psychiatric wing of the hospital against his will, and after a few discussions with the doctors and Dazai, he'd pulled the shorter man into the car. Their ride back towards the office had been silent.
It took a few weeks for Kunikida to accept that they could not help someone who didn't want to accept help. He'd been reaching out, had tried a lot, to get Dazai to reconsider a stationary therapy. Nothing had worked, and eventually, he'd learned to look for warning signs in his partner. Not every attempt was serious.
Absences, without any mention, for a week - those were serious, and eventually, Kunikida couldn't tell himself to practice patience and wait anymore. Even though Dazai could easily land the top spot of "Most annoying colleague", he couldn't deny that they worked well together, and that his presence reassured him the tiniest bit. Also, Dazai was surprisingly good at calming Atsushi down. Thus, he eventually stood up, ready to call through the hospitals, with his private mobile.
None of the stations had any patient that matched his description. Neither police station in their area around Yokohama had any lead either. Kunikida found himself fidgeting with the end of his bow, his brows furrowed. This wasn't good at all. Quietly, a thought wormed through his brain - he may have succeeded this time.
A small, nauseous feeling spread through him. Just look at his place first, he scolded himself. He probably allowed himself a little holiday. Nothing more. He wished to check, anyway.
"Atsushi." He called, and the boy stood up, ready for his orders. "I am terribly sorry. Could you finish the two files I'll send you? I'll need a bit of insight into the past few years of payments from this -" He handed Atsushi a folder. "- institution. It is a sales company, specialised in furniture, and stationed within the haven area. Check for anything unusual. Or too usual. I trust you can do this, I'll be back as soon as I can."
Atsushi carefully placed the folder down and nodded, bowing towards the tall man. "Of course, Mr Kunikida!" He blurted out and opened his mails, ready to look into the issue. The blonde nodded. "Thanks, kid. You don't know how much of a help you are." Atsushi nodded, already immersed in the data package upon the screen.
Kunikida didn't waste more time and drove towards Dazai's apartment. When he rang the bell, nobody answered. A neighbour let him in, and he was glad to have brought his key to easily unlock the door.
The stink from the apartment was breath-taking. He'd never been there before. Never seen the other's apartment, even though Dazai had handed him a spare key. For safe-keeping, he'd said, in case he ever locked himself out of his own home. Out of courtesy, he'd let Dazai have the key to his own apartment, too. They'd been to Kunikida's a few times, to bandage wounds or disinfect and treat minor injuries.
Gingerly, Kunikida closed the door behind himself and fumbled with the light switch, until the hallway was finally lit. He sighed and stared at the mess in front of him, empty plastic wrappers and bottles were shoved into one space where, apparently, Dazai kept his old glass.
The detective carefully stepped through the hallway and towards the living room, founding it empty except for even more bottles of sake and red wine, as well as old take-out, already crowned with mold. That explained the smell. Kunikida sucked in some air. How the hell did this man live... strangely enough, instead of disgust he felt worry and a hint of sadness, his chest tightening. A rustle from behind caused him to still his movements.
"Kuni... Kunikida..?" The man behind him slurred, slumped against the doorframe. Kunikida turned around and nodded. Dazai could barely stand, he noticed, and reeked of liquor and vomit.
"Yes. It's me. Mind explaining to me what the hell has happened here?" Kunikida crossed his arms, glaring at the other. Dazai shrugged, the bandages around his arms dirtied.
"Kunikida, darling. I've tried to have a few pleasant bottles of wine, and find the ethanol limit of my body. I don't seem to have crossed it, though." He muttered, his words still slurred, with strange breaks in between while he talked.
Kunikida sighed and nodded, without a comment. He opened the windows, allowing fresh air to enter. Then he gathered the bottles and placed them neatly into a bag, to take them out later. The mold he put into the trash can, which he promptly carried outside. When he returned, Dazai still leaned there.
Even the bathroom was surprisingly clean. After a message towards Atsushi that he'd be late, he cleaned, ignoring the stink. Dazai moved to sit on the edge of his bathtub, monitoring him.
"Why are you cleaning? I didn't hire you..." He laughed at his own joke, still drunk, but able to form coherent sentences. "Aww, don't pull such a face, Kunikida-kun."
The blonde suppressed the urge to attack, and instead told himself that Dazai was drunk and vulnerable, and in no state to fight back. Thus, he gathered new clothes and handed them over, both of them standing in the bedroom. "Here. Change your clothes. The ones you wear are disgusting. Then I'll change your bandages." He ordered, already on his way out to leave him some privacy.
A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and a grinning Dazai was mere centimetres from his face when he turned around. Kunikida immediately pulled his head back, his heart speeding up in fear.
Instead of compliance, Dazai chose to be Dazai. He ran his palm along Kunikida's wrist. "Have you finally come to terms with your feelings?" Dazai sounded earnest when he pulled him down to sit at the edge of the bed with him. "I thought you never would actually admit that you like me, Kunikida."
Faster than light, Kunikida pulled his arm away, hiding in on himself. Was it that obvious? That he liked Dazai? He couldn't really answer it. He was worried for him. They worked perfectly together. And Kunikida would be lying if he denied that he'd ever dreamed of Dazai, or though about how soft the brown hair would feel between his fingertips.
"Shut it. You're drunk, Dazai." He reprimanded, and pointed at the bandages. "I don't want that to get infected. Let me change them."
"Kinky, Kunikida. Look at you." Dazai bit his lip, his eyes a little unfocused while he opened the white cloth and unwrapped them, holding his arm out. Kunikida didn't answer, instead focusing on his task.
"Do you own disinfectant?" He asked, and Dazai pointed to his bathroom, sluggishly trying to stand up. Kunikida held him down with a hand on the shoulder and shook his head. "I'll get it."
After a bit of searching through the chaos within the cabinet, he returned with disinfectant, water and wipes. Dazai's bandages usually sheltered the world from thinking about what was actually going on underneath them - seeing the wounds was entirely different. He hated to see the wrists tightly packed with scars on them, some more fresh than the others, and some aggressively red and new. Arguing hadn't helped, so he had stopped speaking up eventually.
When he used the wipes to clean old blood and dirt off Dazai's arm, his partner didn't move or gasp from the pain, he simply showed no reaction to it. Neither when he sprayed on disinfectant, the only thing that gave away how uncomfortable the feeling was, was how he squinted his brown eyes for a second. Dazai was always miraculously quiet during these times, only a few jokes leaving his lips, and today he was even quieter.
Once he was done, Kunikida stepped a few feet away. At least his room didn't look as bad after cleaning the bottles out. There wasn't much interior, anyway, which helped the cause. Dazai tilted his head and stood up. "Thanks, Kunikida." He grinned, taking a step forward and pushing his glasses up. The younger man scowled and pushed his newly bandaged hand away. "Awww. Stop pretending to hate it when I am close." Dazai whispered mischievously. His eyes had that deductive glint within them. "I've seen it for such a long time, maybe before you realised yourself." He muttered, his voice in a surprisingly serious tone now.
Kunikida didn't know what to answer to this. His partner wasn't exactly lying, he'd noticed that a while ago, but none of that mattered because it wouldn't work out. It didn't even fit into his life-plan, he hadn't considered actually stumbling into a crush when he'd written his love life out. Dazai fulfilled barely any of his wishes in a romantic partner, he was annoying and laid-back and too big-mouthed. Still, he'd concluded that the quickening of his heartbeat, the room suddenly being 5 degrees warmer and the tingles a touch from his partner caused were all signs of physical attraction.
Instead of acknowledging the question, he shook his head. "I need to get back to the agency. And I think Atsushi would be relieved if you showed your face there. You know, the kid seriously worries for you." Dazai grinned, his fingertips landing against Kunikida's wrist again. "Well, he's not the only person worrying, huh?" The brunet smirked. "I can feel your pulse. Definetly above your average, for about seven months now your heart rate changes in resting situations whenever I touch you. I've felt while you've bandaged me, too, so don't try to deny it."
The blonde sighed, closing his eyes. Maybe Dazai was on to something and figuring this out would make their work easier. It could be worth a try, and in the worst case, he would just play it down. It wouldn't be the first time that Dazai teased him about having feelings for the brunete detective.
"I haven't denied it once ever since you started talking." He muttered and shook his head. "I can't see the benefits, though. You just mock me. You are a bit of an idiot and get on my nerves half the day."
Dazai shrugged "I mean, now I know, Kunikida. Maybe that eases it a bit, not having to hide around me." Kunikida shook his head. It didn't ease anything, really. That might just end up to be one of his cruel jokes, too. They always became more crude whenever Dazai was drunk. Now he'd just made the mistake of giving him even more reason to mock him.
"Hmm. Alright. I'll go first." Dazai announced and scooted closer, raising a hand to carefully comb through the blonde hair. "I don't mind you around. You're a compatible partner, actually. Sometimes, I'd go as far as to say that I love you, Kunikida." He chuckled to himseld, smiling, still earnest. The blonde furrowed his brows. This was a good sign. And his eyes didn't have that sheen that said he was joking. Kunikida's heart skipped a few beats and his cheeks turned pink. The usually stern man leaned into the touch of Dazai's hand for a second, closing his golden eyes and smiling.
Hesitantly, he reached out his hand to hold Dazai's, his thumb feeling the rougher fabric of the bandages. Maybe it could be worth a shot. Dazai was drunk, but he wasn't lying at the moment, and maybe they could talk about it when Dazai was clear in the head again. They could try, try actually dating. Kunikida took a deep breath, getting ready to voice a thought that had been haunting his mind for far too long. "I haven't denied it, ever. And I think that I lov-" Dazai had stayed still for a moment, their hands entwined, until he squeezed Kunikida's palm before pulling away, breaking through the other's sentence. The blonde opened his mouth, interfering his own sentence by a stunned silence, but wanting to speak up and catch his hand again.
Instead, Dazai pulled his hand away and turned his head to the wall. He sighed. "Don't say it back, Kunikida." Dazai mumbled, shaking his head. "You barely know me." The blonde was beginning to protest, but Dazai shut him up by continuing. "You are not the same as Oda, and I still don't know if I will ever stop grieving Oda's death. You cannot and should not be a replacement. And, Kunikida, you don't know me half as well as you may think - you only see the sides I want you to see."
It was a rare amount of honesty from Dazai, without any interference of a joke or dumb nonsense in between. If what he said wouldn't be as painful, especially after the hope that had built up before, Kunikida may have felt honoured in silence. Dazai's rejection needed a second to sink in. For the blink of an eye, hurt flashed through Kunikida's face, but when he pulled his hand back, his expression was neutral again. His chest felt unusually tight, while the hope he had actually allowed himself to indulge in came clattering down to earth, burying him under strange emotions of disillusion.
He swallowed thickly before speaking up, his voice only lightly shivering. As if nothing ever happened. "Alright, Dazai. I really need to get back to Atsushi. You should try to sleep a little and not touch anything to drink. I'll check in later and bring you something to eat after work." Kunikida nodded towards the bed. "I'll leave as soon as you close your eyes."
Dazai pouted, but followed the orders. He fell asleep almost immediately after his head hit the pillow. Quietly, Kunikida left for the car, driving back towards the agency with a hollow feeling in his chest reverberating through his limbs. Eventually, he pulled to the side and stopped, his hands shivering. It felt strange to feel barely anything upon seeing them tremble. Dazai's words echoed in his skull, from the way he had confessed, to how he'd rejected him. Kunikida was unsure if it had been feigned honesty. Whether this was a way of mocking him - if so, Dazai had gone too far. Miles too far. Something told him that it had been honest. Which only made the rejection hurt deeper. Kunikida wasn't good enough to replace somebody else. He didn't know Dazai. Dazai didn't want him to know more than he did.
Kunikida felt as if all air had been punched from his lungs, struggling to breathe as he curled in on himself. Stepping out of the confined of the car barely helped, and he curled in on himself, crouching against the metallic outside. The air barely filled his lungs, and he tried desperately to just breathe in. After a while, he realised he was trying to hold back tears. When the first sob broke out of him, he finally managed to inhale again.
Kunikida had rarely cried in his life, but now the tears just kept flowing until they dried out. Still, there were a few sobs, and the hollow feeling stayed. Crying hadn't made him feel better, but he didn't want to leave Atsushi longer, and climbed into his car, putting the glasses back on.
In the Agency, Atsushi noticed the red rim across his eyes. His face fell. "Kunikida! What happened? Is Dazai alright?" The blonde was startled for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. The idiot is fine. Just hungover." He muttered. "Oh. Did anything else happen?" Atsushi continued. Kunikida shrugged. "My cat just died. She was old, but a sweetheart." Atsushi nodded and patted the tall man's shoulder comfortingly. Kunikida rolled his eyes, not facing Ranpo, who basically pierced him with his green eyes. "I am fine. Come on, anything new on the case? Suspicious payments? Strange addresses?"
Work helped. Work always helped. He buried himself under it this evening, dreading to actually face his partner again. He was the last person to leave, nothing unusual, but the hour was even later than his default. He grabbed some take-out on the way. Dazai still looked tired and pale, but he'd showered and the disgusting smell was gone, just like the drunken sheen in his eyes.
"Oh, hey Kunikida." He waved. "Thanks for coming over. I nearly forgot you had cleaned up." In truth, Dazai had forgotten, the memory of Kunikida coming over wiped away by a black out. He'd concluded that later, after seeing the nearly pristine state of his apartment. Kunikida handed the food over, used to not being invited in.
"Ah, you're always such a sweetheart towards me. Thanks for the food." He nodded in thanks before waving. Kunikida's lips thinned, his brows furrowing. "No problem." His voice was rigid. "Don't get that drunk again. It is a nuisance. See you tomorrow at the agency." With that, he turned and left the building, a tad out of the ordinary, he usually waited until Dazai had said goodbye.
When he was home, he crumpled down again, on his sofa with his legs against his chest. Every bone inside of him seemed to ache, and eventually, his eyes just hurt, his throat promptly following up after sobbing for too long.
_______________
In the morning, the empty feeling hadn't vanished. His morning routine didn't go as neat as usual, and he was a few minutes late, his bow not perfectly tied. Again, he felt Ranpo's eyes on his back, ignoring the older detective.
Dazai wasn't there yet, but him being late was a given. Kunikida immersed himself into paperwork, still having a good pile to work on. Half an hour too late, Dazai sat down next to him. He never worked much, and after ten minutes spent on a file, he turned around, grinning at Kunikida. Just like every other day, he ignored Dazai's antics and tries to hold him off work. The only difference was that he was even quicker at evading the other's touches.
"Awww. You are no fun, Kunikida. Just let me squeeze your arm. I can show you which vein you'd have to cut..." He smiled innocently. "Maybe you'd be up for a double-double-suicide? Each of us and a partner? Could be a novelty."
Kunikida glared. "I am very close to commiting a single homicide." He warned, slamming a folder onto Dazai's table. "And finally catch up on your work, I won't do ALL of your files just because you choose to get drunk for a week." Their bickering filled the office like any other day. On his chair, Ranpo leaned forward, his brows furrowing in interest and thought. Interesting, how the meaning of sentences could change after certain incidents took place. Like the day before, Kunikida stayed until the office was empty, and the night was dark. Longer than yesterday, he noticed when he glanced at the clock.
____________
For a few weeks, it continued that way. Bickering in the office. Occasionally being needed outside and solving a case. Fishing Dazai outside of a river, no serious attempts happened. The only thing changing was that Kunikida stayed longer in the office each night, working with barely any hours at home.
On the plus-side, there was no work left to catch up with. Neither on his nor Dazai's desk. The downside was that getting up early in the mornings became actually difficult to do, for the first time in Kunikida's life. The hollow feeling never left, even when adrenaline, annoyance or worry were raging through him. Some days, he wished to just turn around and stay in bed forever, occasionally being two to five minutes too late. Nobody really bat an eye, since most other detectives were a few minutes late every day.
When Dazai and him were out on a mission together, he usually made sure to bring Atsushi as well. On the rare incidents when that didn't work out, he focused on the tasks and evaded the mocking from his partner. In the office, they bickered like they always did. The comments on the dark rings below his eyes became more frequent, and deepened with time. He looked sickly on occasion, his hair matted and eyes unfocused more often than not. Another thing that changed was how often Ranpo stared at Kunikida, trying to meet his gaze. When he didn't manage to avoid the green eyes, they looked a little pitiful, questioning. Kunikida always made sure to glare back.
Until some evening, Dazai and him were alone within the car. He'd been on autopilot, knowing the roads to Dazai's place from the agency by heart. "Kunikida, could you pull over?" Dazai eventually asked, out of the blue to the younger man. He followed the request and parked the car in a small booth, surrounded by trees.
Dazai had his arms crossed in front of his chest and turned to look at Kunikida, narrowing his eyes. "How much do you sleep at night?" Kunikida shrugged. He looked more like a ghost. "Eight hours. You know my plan." He lied flawlessly and Dazai nodded, facing the trees in front of them. "Yeah, yeah. On paper. Just, you looked a bit tired, the past months. I know what sleeping issues feel like, so don't worry. There are a few tricks, like melatonin, I can show you where to get that."
Kunikida sighed, pushing up his glasses. This was annoying, being lectured by him. "I said I am fine. I sleep between seven point five and eight hours each night." Dazai raised a brow. "Sure? Last night, too?" He looked confused. Kunikida furrowed his brows. "Of course. Each night, as said. You know my plans. Can I bring you home now, or do you want to get on my nerves longer? If so, do that while I'm driving."
Dazai shot him a dismissive look, exhaling. "Sure, soon. Just, you've left the office at 2:37 am last night. And checked in at 8:20 today, ten minutes early, as usual. Now, I don't know how long you shower in the morning, but your way to the agency takes thirty minutes. You start at 7:50, give or take some minutes, and if you're insanely fast, you wake at 7:30. Now, saying you immediately fell asleep after entering your apartment last night, you would've had about four hours and twenty-three minutes of sleep."
He narrowed his eyes again. "I know you're the mathematician, but barely five hours do not equal anything between seven point five and eight hours. Would you like me to go back to where I ask you how much you are sleeping at night and try again? Maybe tell me why you're lying to my face as if I am stupid?"
Kunikida was frozen, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. The hollow feeling was eating him up again. "You don't need to know everything about me, Dazai. Maybe you could just leave my privacy alone. I'll bring you to your place now."
He reached for the ignition key. Dazai's hand grabbed a hold of his, pulling him away. The instincts kicked in fast, and before he'd realised it, he'd slammed the side of his hand against Dazai's wrist, who drew his arm back with a wince. Kunikida's own hand flinched away from the ignition key. "Don't touch me!! Stop touching me all the time, why won't you leave me alone for a bit?!" The man yelled at his colleague, unable to stop a sob from breaking out of his ribcage.
Dazai just stared at his partner, his mouth agape in surprise. He'd often been yelled at by Kunikida, regularly chided and pushed away in annoyance. But the pain and desperation with which he'd screamed at him this time had never been there before. He'd never seen him sob out like that either. His left arm felt numb where the other's chop had hit him, and a cut had opened, staining his bandages. Next to him, Kunikida was actually crying, even though he didn't face Dazai and wiped his eyes furiously.
"I am sorry, Doppo." He muttered, using his first name to make sure he came off as sincere as he meant it. "I'm sorry, I never knew it was that uncomfortable to you. I won't touch you out of nowhere again, okay? Can you let me drive, please? I won't do anything stupid, I promise." Kunikida didn't protest, leaving the driver's seat to Dazai. The sobs had died down again and he just wordlessly stared out of the side window. From time to time, Dazai glanced over towards the blonde. He drove towards Kunikida's apartment, walking inside with him and closing the door behind them.
Kunikida went to a cupboard, returning with fresh bandages and signalling for Dazai to sit down. He sat, but didn't hold his arm out. "No, we can bandage that later. I won't die from a little blood." He shot another worried glance towards the blonde, who sat next to him now. Kunikida shook his head. "I hurt you. Partners aren't supposed to do that. I can resign tomorrow." Dazai scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. It happens. It was my own fault." He held out his arm then, allowing Kunikida to change the bandages and disinfect the wounds again.
Once they were done, he faced Kunikida. "What's wrong, Doppo? I've never seen you like that. Lying and breaking you resting time. Working until morning. You're on edge all the time. You're very quiet when we're alone. I may be a shitty person, but I notice that stuff." The taller man didn't reply, and instead kept his eyes averted to the floor. "I'm fine." - "You're lying, again." Somehow, Dazai sounded disappointed.
Kunikida sighed. "Dazai, I said I am fine." His shoulders faltered. The man looked absolutely exhausted, his eyes emptily facing the wall. His hair wasn't as shiny as usual, either. There wasn't even energy left to cry. Enough to go to work, but even that dwindled down each day. Dazai knew that gaze well enough from the mirror to be more than alert.
"Fucking hell. You're not fine! You're not supposed to look like me!" He blurted out in disappointment. "You're stern and idealistic, and you're striving for so much. Tell me what happened, what's wrong. But for the love of God, stop looking at that wall like that!"
Kunikida furrowed his brows again, glaring over towards him. "Maybe think about what cruel jokes you tell me beforehand, the next time you are drunk out of your wits. Or choose what you say to my face a little more thoughtfully." The questioning glance from Dazai was of no use. Kunikida chuckled hollowly, palming his face. "Do you even remember?" He asked, his hand across his face. "Just get out of my home. Please, just leave me the hell alone outside of work. I don't need you to remind me how fucking inferior I am to Oda every time you look at me."
Dazai looked at him, puzzled. How the hell did he know about Oda? Then it suddenly made sense. The way Kunikida had changed after Dazai had tried to end his life via alcohol. The way he always pulled away and overworked himself. Oh no, what had he told him? Shit. Shit shit shit.
When he registered that Dazai was still staring at him, his brows furrowed deeply again. He stood up and clenched his fists. "I said that you should leave. Now." Dazai jumped to his feet, forgetting about the no-touching-rule and flattening his hand onto Kunikida's shoulder. "Kunikida, please tell m--"
Before he'd finished his sentence, his arm was pushed away again. "I said stop! Stop touching me! Leave me alone!" He begged, not even yelling anymore. "I don't want to be teamed up with you anymore, please. I just want you to stop, stop touching me. Stop being in my house and treating me as if everything is fine. Get out, please, for the love of God. Please."
Dazai pulled his phone out, stepping a few feet away. He called, ignoring for a second how desperate Kunikida looked at him. When he put his phone down, he walked over to the door. His presence wouldn't help at the moment. He waited at the doorframe. "Get the fuck out, Dazai." Kunikida choked out. Dazai sighed. "I will! Jesus. Ranpo will be here in five minutes. I just don't want to leave you alone like that. Believe me or not, I know how you feel."
It was lucky that Ranpo lived close enough, closer than Kunikida had known. Ten minutes later, Dazai left before the man stood at the door, his hair a little astray. He didn't sound happy when he closed the door behind himself. "Finally talked it out, huh?" Kunikida was at the sofa, reading a book. He shrugged. "I think so." He sounded indifferent. "You don't need to be here, Ranpo. I am fine."
The short detective stretched out on the sofa, squinting his eyes at the younger man. "Hm. If that's your conclusion, you might really want to hand in your resignation. Two suicidals on the same team is not a great idea." Ranpo spoke, without a filter. Kunikida sighed. "I am not suicidal." The raven-haired man raised a brow. "Really? I think Dazai knows what he is talking about. You don't look well, Kunikida." He fished out a candy from his pocket, unwrapping it and throwing it, catching it in his mouth. "You want one?" The man asked, and Kunikida shook his head. "No, thanks. Maybe Dazai doesn't know me that well." Ranpo narrowed his eyes. "Stop looking at me like that. Like you pity me. It is stupid."
"I think Dazai knows you very well. And I think he is one of the smartest people among us, excluding me, obviously. And I trust him when he says he's worried about you." He sucked on the candy, crossing his arms. "And you're not very hard to see through for me. Not wanting to get out of bed and wishing to just feel nothing all the time is a warning sign for depression. Also, you remember that I pulled you out of the line of fire on our last mission, right? That was not the first time you didn't move on your own. You don't just endanger yourself with that behaviour." He sighed. "Dazai's not the only person who worries for you. I understand that he's more important to you, but I am here. The whole agency is here for you, even the president adores you."
Kunikida was quiet for a while, reconsidering for a while what he'd been told. Maybe he wasn't as well as he'd thought he'd be. After more than an hour of silence he sighed. "Can I go to bed, chaperone Ranpo?" He nodded. "Sure. I'll sleep on the sofa, no refusals." Kunikida nodded, too tired to actually argue. Before going to bed, he wrote down the numbers of three different therapists he would call the next day, he made sure to lay the note atop his desk. This night, he slept better than before. His alarm didn't go off, and Ranpo had left when he woke up at half past ten.
At the side of his bed, Dazai read a book, looking up when he shifted and sat upright. He felt underdressed in his pajamas. The book was swiftly set aside, and Dazai looked unusually contrite. Quickly, the memories flooded Kunikida's brain and he gritted his teeth. Dazai seemed defensive, raising his hands. "If you want me to leave, I'll be on my way, Kunikida." He spoke up. "However, I think that we should talk and that I should apologise."
Kunikida sighed, shaking his head, another dark chuckle coming from him. "You don't even remember what to apologise for. You don't need to leave, either. We can talk. What do you want to talk about?" Dazai didn't care about the purposefully provocative words, he had a thick skin.
"I want you to tell me what I have said to you. What happened. Because I am an idiot and blacked out." Kunikida's expression faltered. Still, he began to recount what had happened that day. He could still tell him word for word how he'd rejected him. Dazai's face fell, and he had the decency to stare at the floor for a while.
"I am terribly sorry. Seriously. I don't even know what to tell you." He whispered, staring at his hands. Kunikida shrugged. "I think you've worded what you thought sufficiently enough." He laughed, not darkly, just sadly. His laugh went through to Dazai, and he looked up.
"I cannot say that this was wrong. Not all of it was, anyway." He began, inhaling. "I grieve Oda's death. He died before I could tell him what I thought of him. He's the reason why I am here, why I want to help people. And I miss him. I think I still love him, somewhere." Dazai admitted. Kunikida tried to ignore the stings the words left.
"And I don't want to replace him. I don't want that for him, but I also wouldn't want that for you. You're yourself. A different man, a good man, and I wouldn't do you justice if I would not love you for yourself but try to mold you into another person that you are not." Dazai pinched the bridge of his nose, he'd thought a long time about how he could properly word what he was thinking, without hurting Kunikida more than he already had.
"I was wrong though, about how much of me you know. You know what affiliations I had. You never held that against me. You can see through my mind better than I'd have liked you to see, still you never complain about me. You always take care in your silent way. You are very aware of my boundaries, no matter how hard I have treaded on yours. And I think that I like that you know me. Know what makes me relax a little. You even know what I like."
Kunikida sighed and nodded, folding his hands and bracing for the big "but", the reason why they wouldn't work out. Dazai leaned in, seizing his chance to ramble on. "I never intended to say any of the things I've told you that day. But I meant it that I love you, and that I don't want to misuse you as a replacement." He reached out for Kunikida's hand, very carefully, and when the blonde's whole body flinched, he quickly pulled back. "I am sorry for being an asshole." He eventually concluded. "And, if you can live with the fact that I still am processing something else, would you like to try working together again? Not just as a team or as friends. I mean, would you like to go out with me? And get to actually know me?"
It took strength for Dazai to offer that, and Kunikida was intensely aware that this was not a light offer. Still, he hesitated. He wanted to believe that they'd easily work out, without failures, but he knew that this would be a very bumpy road if he said yes. There still were the sides that annoyed him, and he still wasn't sure about a lot of aspects about Dazai's past and personality. Yet, he was very sure that he didn't want to be depressed. And that Dazai, even though he would never admit it, needed him around. Also, that he longed to hold the other's hand, even then, a yearning which had caused the casual touches after the rejection to feel exponentially worse.
After a while in thought, Dazai curled back on himself, his eyes hidden by his bangs. He sounded unsure. "I think it would be best if I left." He muttered. Kunikida shook his head. "Wait." He spoke, offering his hand. "I want to try, Osamu."
Dazai exhaled, a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. With a smooth movement, he laid his bandaged hand into his partner's palm, intertwining their fingers. "Promise you step out the line of fire for me, alright?" Dazai mumbled, and then, almost too quiet to hear. "I don't want to lose another person I love."
Kunikida sighed and nodded his head. "I will. If you just call if you feel down instead of getting drunk out of your minds. I don't wanna go through the same shit like this ever again." Dazai couldn't promise, but he squeezed his hand. "I will try. You know, you could say it back, this time. I think I love you, Doppo." The blonde rolled his eyes. "You're a bastard, Osamu. I love you, too."
______
They didn't work that day. Instead, Kunikida rested, sleeping a few more hours in an attempt to catch up on all the sleep he'd lost. Next to him, Dazai read, occasionally glancing over or running a hand through his partner's open hair, sliding the long strands of blonde hair through his fingertips. This tenderness was and would be rare, and for a few hours, Dazai allowed himself to feel content and enjoy the way life could be just life for itself. Without the ever-looming determinism of Death, focused on the way Kunikida breathed in and out. If somebody like him could exist and choose to love him, despite the many flaws, then the world may not be as cruel and rotten as he'd thought.
Kunikida had the rare talent to let him live within the moment and forget his past. He pushed him to have ideals, and to stick to the goal his friend had long ago set for him. And he loved Kunikida for it, and for the stern and focused strength and order that always brought order into his own life, almost accidentally. When he opened his eyes and found the other staring, Kunikida's heart skipped a beat, and he swallowed, a little scared that this was a dream.
Instead, Dazai's very real fingers against his scalp reminded him that this was reality, and he sighed, content. Dazai leaned down, bringing them closer together until their noses touched. He didn't need to ask verbally, as his friend already leaned in to close the distance between them. Neither of them said a word for a while after the kiss broke, allowing the bliss to take them over. Eventually, Dazai grinned. "Now... would you enjoy a double suicide?" He asked, and Kunikida grimaced. "No. Shut up, just let me look at you without being annoying." But the way he grinned while he said that proved that he wasn't actually annoyed. "I want to live with you. And work with you. Team up together." Dazai nodded, leaving a kiss at the tip of his nose before snatching the glasses from the bedside and pushing them onto Kunikida's nose. "It's easier to look at me that way." He winked. "I hadn't thought of you as a sap." The brunet admitted, and Kunikida tsk-ed. "I am not." - "You absolutely are." - "That's untrue." Dazai grinned. "Suuure. We'll see if you'll cry when we marry in... what was it, six years? Or four years, considering that we can skip the time until you've found your compatible partner." He half-joked. Kunikida sighed, but nodded. Maybe he'd need to correct a few things in the notebook...