selfship sanctuary

For the next few weeks, Atsushi had noticed a change within dazai. At first it had been subtle. To start, Dazai’s flirts with the maid every time he’d visit Cafe Uzumaki had drawn to a close. Then there was the undeniable fact that the stacks upon stacks of paperwork on his were decreasing. ‘A true miracle,’ Kunikida had said with a gaping mouth, looking impressed, surprised and concerned at the same time. Dazai’s grand, loud, and borderline performative actions seemed to wash away.

And then there were the flowers. Every morning when you get to your desk, there was always a flower in a small vase placed on your table, and so far, nobody knows when or who puts it there.

It’s another busy day of work. Sunlight streams through the windows onto the cream walls of the office, with only the quiet clicks of the computer and the sound of Ranpo munching away at another chemically processed bag of snacks breaking through the silence. Atsushi casts a quick glance towards you and sure enough, a single carnation, the shade of a soft pink with the edges of the petals seemingly seeped in sharp red sat.

‘That’s the fifth flower in a row,’ Atsushi thought to himself, biting his lip.

“Um,” He says finally. “Do you know who’s been bringing you flowers?”

“I’m not sure,” your fingers come to a stop as you look towards it. “But it’s kind of sweet.”

He nods, maybe a little too much, before looking back at his laptop. ‘She’s blushing.’ “Say, Where’s that idiot Dazai?” Kunikida questions, features darkening. Atsushi swears he sees storm clouds crackling with thunder above his head, and gulps. “He should be here by now.”

“I’ll go look for him,” Atsushi declares quickly, getting up from his seat.

The streets of yokohama are busy, to say the least. Clouds stretch across a bright sky, tall buildings with sea green glass panes that reflect the blazing light that shines off of it. People walk around, carrying suitcases or holding onto the hands of children with the sounds of traffic and bustle hanging in the air. It’s a shame Atsushi doesn’t have enough eyes or the time to appreciate all of it.

“Where would Dazai-san go－” his footsteps draw to a stop as his eyes widen. A familiar, lanky figure in a too-long coat is being handed a bundle of flowers, and dark eyes meet yellow ones.

“I don’t mean to… erm, intrude on your personal life, but do you… like her, Dazai-san?”

“You’re getting bold with asking questions, Atsushi-kun.” Dazai says, his shoes scraping against the concrete floor, shifting the bundle of blooms from one arm to another. Since when did flowers get so heavy?

“Well, okay, I’m cutting to the chase－are you planning on telling her?” Atsushi interrogates, his tone so bitter that it sends shivers up Dazai’s spine, and Dazai would have complimented him for achieving such an incredible feat if it weren’t for that look.

“...No,” Dazai admits, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking at the floor, except this seems to make his mentee even more tense. It’s oddly quiet for a while, but not the same as the silence they shared aboard the S.S. Zelda, when they had clinked tall glasses of champagne.

This was different.

“Do you like her, Atsushi?” he asks. It’d make sense for Atsushi to have a crush on you, especially considering your long past together, and how protective you are of each other, and just how kind you are. (Dazai is surprised to find that the idea of Atsushi and you holding hands and going on dates, being saps gives him a sharp pang in his chest.)

“What? No! She’s like a sister to me, why would I－no, it’s just...that…” Atsushi’s protests falter before his shoulders droop.

“Just what?”

“It’s not my place to say,” Atsushi shakes his head nervously. “But－”

“Butt?” Dazai smirks.

“Oh my god,” the teenager buries his face in his hands as Dazai snickers. ‘Nailed it,’ he thinks childishly.

Dazai soon finds that he regrets not having let Atsushi finish that sentence, because now a new found curiosity and something akin to dread was slowly building inside of him.

But what?  

“Kunikida-kun. Kunikidaaaa. Kunikida, pleaseee－”

“What is it, Dazai?” The bespectacled man turns around in his seat, looking as furious as usual. “Stop distracting me from my work, I’m already two minutes behind－”

“Kunikida, can you tell me what’s wrong with me?” He asks, twirling a pen between his fingers.

“...what?”

“I’m making a list,” Dazai says.

“You refuse to do any work of your own, you constantly smell like pond water and sweat, you flirt with nearly every walking woman except that hasn’t been happening lately so that’s off the list, you’re ruthless, uncommitted, lazy, and－”

“Kunikida, that’s so mean!” Dazai whines dramatically, putting the back of his hand to his forehead like a fainting princess and tossing his pen to the side of the room. “I’m truly hurt! Oh, I’ll never recover!”  

“－everything from your behaviour to your humor is a guise,” Kunikida finishes.

Dazai drops his hand from his head. “A guise?”

“Nothing feels real when you’re around. Everytime you say something genuine, you cover it up with a joke. You’re just being cowardly because there’s nothing you fear more than being open and getting turned away.”

“Hm,” Dazai says, staying strangely still. “I figured.”

“Why’d you ask? Hey, Dazai, are you okay?” The creases between Kunikida’s eyebrows folded as he watched his partner jump up from his seat.

“I’m quite alright, truly, now who’s next!” Dazai said aloud to nobody in particular, crossing out a line on his scrap of paper and walking out the door.

Kunikida fixed his eyes on the door, even after it slammed shut.

It’s the end of work. You roll your shoulders and you grimace as you hear a familiar creak in your bones, aching. It’s a strangely cold night, contrary to the sunny morning you only got to experience in doors. Your warm heavy fingers sting, the cold air hugging your stockings as you pick up the pace, wanting to head home as soon as possible.

“Wait up!”

There’s desperate footsteps behind you, ringing against the brick floor, and a familiar voice shouts out your name. Surely enough, you turn around and there he is, Dazai Osamu, his short locks bouncing off his shoulders through the light breezes.

“Dazai?”

“Hey,” he says once he catches up to you, barely panting. “Can’t leave a lady walking home alone, now can I?” he smirks.

You feel your face go hot against the biting cold. “I can take care of myself better than you can and you know it,” you smile.

“Ouch!”

You shake your head amused, as you walk besides each other. The streets are strangely empty, and you look up briefly to a starless sky and－ “Hey, look! It’s a full moon today,” you comment as you stop walking. Through the thin clouds, the moon hangs high. “It’s got a halo!”

“Yeah. It does,” Dazai lifts his head. “Hey, did you know that the halo we’re seeing right now is just created by clouds and light rays by the sun?”

“Really?”

“Eh, something like that, I’m not entirely sure about the specifics,” he shrugs. “Just something I remember from a book I read. Not even sure if the halo we’re seeing right now is the same as the one the book was referring to.”

The street lights are an old yellow, and the shadows twist as the two of you walk past. A chill runs down your neck as you shiver and Dazai turns to you. “...Cold?”

“Very,” you say as a fleeting cloud of warmth escapes your throat, and then you feel the weight around your shoulders. You look up at him, baffled, and sure enough, he’s taken off his signature coat, now draping around you.

“You’re going to catch a cold, Dazai!” You exclaim as concern floods your features.

“I’ll be fine, really! You’re so cute when you’re worried~” he gushes, obviously teasing.

“But…”

“I insist,” he smiles.

The coat does its job at warming you, smelling faintly of his cologne and something oddly salty (Probably sea water, you think). You’ve never seen him without his coat on, you notice as you glance at him. The ends of his bolo tie are waving against the breezes, and his hands are stuck in the pockets of his beige pants. Despite all of the street lights, his eyes remain as dark as the starless night.

Then you realise you don’t know where he goes when the day ends at the Detective Agency, or when his birthday is, or anything about him, really.

There’s pretty much nothing you know about him.

“What’s your favourite color?” You blurt suddenly, immediately regretting it as soon as the words escape your mouth. He doesn’t seem to notice how flustered you are, or at least he’s kind enough for once to not point it out as his eyes roll skyward, contemplating.

“Hm. I’ve never really thought about that. Yellow? The warm kind, not the green-ish kind, that’s gross. But not too bright, like an advertisement. Like a mustard, but… brighter,” he rambles, before turning to you.  “My turn! What’s your favourite yellow flower?”

“Carnations, maybe?”

For a split second, you think you see Dazai pumping his fist celebratorily before he regains composure. “Really? What color?” he asks, seeming a lot more excited.

“Mm, red!”

“Yes! ” he grins widely. “I knew that was a good color to pick－oh. Wait, um,” he stops in his tracks, suddenly looking uncharacteristically awkward.

“So you really were the one putting flowers on my table! That’s kind of sweet, though I was getting sort of nervous as to who was giving them to me.”

“Do you think it was creepy? It wasn’t meant to be, I swear,” he panics, eyes widening slightly.

“No, it’s alright, I kind of knew by the sixth day, I was just waiting for you to tell me, actually,” you giggle as he groans dramatically. “Atsushi ended up telling me he found you at the flowers shop out of guilt.”

“Damn! I was trying to be so sneaky about it too and he just rats me out?” he moans into his hands, pouting and you swear he’s the only one who can pout as an adult and still look endearing. Maybe besides Ranpo.

He comes to a stop underneath a lamp post. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” You turn around, cocking your head.

“Do you like me?”

His eyes gaze into yours, like he’s searching through your soul for the answer.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” your confession slides off your tongue, and it comes easier than expected. His shoulders loosen. You raise your head from your shoes to look at him and he looks the most nervous you’ve ever seen him.

“I’m not exactly the best person to be in a relationship with. Obviously, and I haven’t exactly been told right out, but I’ve always known. I’m not responsible, you know that, and I...I don’t know if you’d want to stick around once you get to know me. Honestly, I was sort of hoping you’ll never get to, but… “

His hands are shaking, and he lifts his head up to face you, eyes filled with determination. “I want to try. I can’t promise I’ll get it right all the time, and I definitely don’t deserve this, but－”

Your mouth was soft, and you seemed to melt into him and the second he closed his eyes he couldn’t open them again. He wanted more. You were so warm and it was so cold－

“Your face is red,” you smile. He blinks. The kiss ended too quickly, he decided, like it took something from him, and he needed it back.

“It’s the cold,” he lies. You laugh, and he swears it's the nicest thing he’s ever heard as you lean in again.

“Yeah, okay,” you whisper, and your mouths fall together again.

The next morning when you walk through the doors of the Detective Agency, your hands are intertwined with Dazai’s as he complains about his clogged nose and his nasty cold, and sure, it’s like he said. He’s annoying, irresponsible and you know near to nothing about him, and you’re sure it’s nothing pretty.