Chapter Text
“Hah,” Dazai moaned and hung his head, playing with the whiskey glass in front of him and making the ice cube bump against the crystal glass several times with a sound, as if he was trying to imitate a certain melody. He had already ordered his third glass of whiskey and was heavily intoxicated to the point that his eyes had glazed over and his cheeks had taken on a red glow.
Sitting across from him was Ranpo, sipping his sweet cocktail, who had come by rather by accident and was scowling at him.
“I don't understand why you get drunk in the middle of the week,” the black-haired man grumbled.
Dazai shrugged and continued to play with his glass, letting the ice cube bang against the glass walls in a well audible way, almost as if he wanted to distract from the topic with the noise. But Ranpo didn't let up, eyeing the brunette suspiciously, waiting for him to finally look at him. Kunikida had been very displeased because Dazai was playing truant again, and Ranpo had explained that it was perfectly normal for Dazai to go underground. No later than when the Yokohama police called because he had done something stupid again and they had taken him into custody as a precaution, his whereabouts would be known and they could pick him up and lecture him. It wouldn't be the first time.
Sometimes Dazai would also jump into the canal or the nearest river and drift, explaining this behavior by saying that this was a perfect opportunity for suicide. Kunikida was infuriated by this, as the blond believed that his colleague did this merely to get attention. Kunikida firmly believed that Dazai should not be rewarded for his bad behavior and therefore had to be ignored until he came to his senses on his own and accepted that he would receive nothing for his childish behavior.
“I'm not drunk at all … I think,” was all Dazai said, and a hiccup came over him.
Ranpo shook his head. He had just been on his way back, solving a case at Yokohama harbor and helping the police solve it. After that, the appetite for dango had caught up with him and he had happily gone to the nearest candy store and shopped to his heart's content. One package of Dango turned into a whole bag of candy. As he left the store, he noticed that it was already dawn and as he wandered the streets, he saw Dazai sitting through the window of a small bar. It had been a coincidence and unasked he had sat down with his brunette colleague and ordered something.
“Kunikida's going to be really pissed when he finds out you're here,” he then said monotonously, raising an eyebrow.
“Heh? Ranpo-san is going to snitch on me?!” it came, startled, from Dazai, who widened his eyes.
“Maybe,” said the latter, grinning provocatively. Dazai was still looking at him with wide, pleading eyes.
“Why are you here, anyway?”
“I was frustrated and wanted to distract myself,” was all Dazai said then, flicking against his glass.
“Distract you from what?” Ranpo raised an eyebrow questioningly and watched his colleague. The bandages on his forearms were dirty, fresh and dried blood sticking out from under his sleeves. When Dazai noticed that his counterpart was looking at his injured arms, he hesitantly pulled his sleeves down further so that the latter could not look further into the depths of his battered soul. He didn't like the fact that Ranpo saw through him. Ranpo was the only one he couldn't hide anything from. That annoyed him. On the other hand, he couldn't help but have respect for this ability that saw through everything and everyone.
“This and that,” Dazai said, shrugging his shoulders and casting a sad look out the window.
“Say it,” Ranpo grumbled and sipped his drink, giving Dazai an admonishing look.
“You wouldn't understand,” the brunette said then and closing his eyes, he heaved a deep sigh, then hung his head and crossed his arms on the table, propping his head on his hands.
“Tell me what's bothering you or I'll snitch on you to Kunikida,” Ranpo explained.
“Ranpo-san wouldn't do that!”
“Oh yes I would and you know it,” Ranpo now added, grinning broadly. A diabolical, triumphant grin that went through Dazai's marrow. So Ranpo could be mean when he wanted to be. He seemed to be thinking now. He wanted to get off the subject.
“Do you even know how awful this is?”
“What, Kunikida? Yeah, he likes to overdo it.” Ranpo nodded thoughtfully. Immediately, the image of a Kunikida popped into his head, his braid of hair resembling lightning, teeth spiking arrows, and fire spewing from his maw. Sometimes Kunikida reminded him of a dragon. It was never a good idea to deliberately annoy the blond, although Dazai must have had a fool's fancy for provoking it.
“That's not what I mean,” he grumbled then, letting his head bang on the tabletop with a rumble.
“Just because I'm tall, all men assume I'm a top! Yet I'm a bottom!” he then grumbled softly. Due to the fact that his face was on the tabletop, his voice reached Ranpo in a muffled manner. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.
“What? You're sexually frustrated?” he then laughed almost in amusement.
“Of course I am!” was the angry response from Dazai, who then puffed out his cheeks and averted his eyes, reminiscent of a small child.
“It's hard enough hiding my sexuality from others, and then when I do meet someone, it never goes the way I think it will,” he then grumbled softly, reaching for his glass and emptying it in just a few gulps.
“You're the only one who knows I like men,” he then said, looking at Ranpo with pity.
“Let me get this straight … you get drunk in the middle of the week because you're sexually frustrated and can't find a partner to do it with?”
“When you put it that way, it sounds like it's no big deal,” Dazai said, rolling his eyes.
“Then go to a gay bar, I'm sure you'll find someone who wants to fuck you,” Ranpo moaned, just shrugging his shoulders.
“Are you crazy? If I do that, someone will see me and then everyone will know I'm … gay.” Dazai looked hurt as he said the last words and saw Ranpo grab his left forearm with his right hand and lower his head. His grip on his forearm was so tight that his knuckles turned white. Ranpo now stood up and sat right next to Dazai, comfortingly placing a hand on his shoulder.
“I'm sorry,” Ranpo said, stroking Dazai's back comfortingly.
“It's not about sex though, you know …”, Dazai began dryly, not daring to raise his eyes before continuing in a near whisper, “if I'm honest, I'm just lonely. I miss having someone to be there for me and give me a hug.”
Ranpo took a deep breath. Then he put an arm around Dazai and pressed the latter against him. Was it the alcohol that made Dazai talk so openly about his desires, or was he simply at the end of his rope? Ranpo couldn't help but look at the blood-soaked bandage. Reflexively, he now reached for Dazai's right hand, which was still clawing at his forearm, and gently pulled it away.
“Stop that, you'll only reopen the wounds,” he whispered, gently stroking Dazai's hand. His gaze was still on Dazai's forearm. He had squeezed so hard that his coat and shirt were now stained with blood as well.
“I miss him … so much,” Dazai said, and for a moment Ranpo thought Dazai was crying, but when he looked closer he could see no tears. Only a deeply sad look that was directed towards the abyss. Eyes that had given up looking for meaning. Dazai couldn't handle his sadness, so he looked for something to distract him from his feelings. Anything was welcome. Alcohol, self-harm, or pointless arguments with yakuza who had already sent him to detention or the hospital more than once.
Ranpo knew who Dazai meant. He had known Oda. He had seen him on the day of his death and warned him of his fate, but he had not let himself be dissuaded from his plan. Ranpo had not interfered. What did he care about the concerns of mafia members? Four years later, he regretted not taking action. Dazai, who could not come to terms with his friend's death, was a good friend and colleague. Even though he knew Dazai was a former mafia member and had certainly killed more people than he could count on both hands and toes, he had grown to cherish the brunette. He was a good friend. They were on the same wavelength and it was extremely rare for Ranpo to meet someone who could match him intellectually.
Sōheki. That's what Fukuzawa had called them. Double Jade. In reference to Ranpo's green eyes and Dazai's pendant on his neck. They saw through everything and formed incredibly effective strategies that took into account every last detail and gave them an advantage in battle. But when Dazai was so absent and retreated inside, he was no help to Ranpo. He missed making plans together with Dazai or just playing Shōgi or other games with him.
“Come on, Dazai! Let's go sing karaoke,” Ranpo then declared, gently shaking Dazai back and forth to wake him from his trance-like state. When Dazai only raised an eyebrow in perplexity and pierced him with an incredulous look, he simply grabbed his right hand and pulled him after him. Dazai, still not quite understanding what had gotten into his little colleague, awkwardly plodded after him.
“Why karaoke?!” he then wanted to know and slipped away from his colleague. Behind them, the door of the bar closed with a loud clack and the cars whizzing by could be heard. Until just now, Dazai had let the quiet of the bar and the melancholy of his memories take possession of him, but the loud noises of the world brought him back to reality. The reality that displeased him. With shaky legs, he followed Ranpo, who marched forward.
“Not drunk, my ass,” Ranpo then groaned, casting a skeptical glance at his colleague, who staggered forward unsteadily like a freshly born fawn, then propped himself against a streetlight.
“I'm not drunk, my head is perfectly clear,” Dazai brought out, but didn't dare take another step forward.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Ranpo chuckled, pulling out his smartphone.
Before Dazai could say anything back, he leaned forward slightly and it looked like he was going to throw up at any moment, then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed three Ranpos looking at him right away. Well, maybe he was a little drunk. Just a teeny bit! Then he awkwardly clambered forward a few steps and barely had he got a grip on himself, when he was overcome by nausea, which he now could no longer suppress. He staggered to the next bush and threw up, nausea overtaking him several times. Ranpo stood a few feet behind him and just shook his head.
“Perfectly clear,” the black-haired man repeated, now stowing his smartphone. In the time it took Dazai to rid himself of his stomach contents, Ranpo had called someone.
“I told Kunikida to pick us up,” he said dryly.
“Are you all right?”
Dazai nodded tentatively. Well, maybe, but just maybe, he was drunk after all.
“It's best if we take you home, then you can sleep it off.”
“I'm feeling better now," was all Dazai said and rose. He was still on wobbly legs and seemed to want to make a run for it before Kunikida arrived.
“Where are you going?”
“I'm going to find a one-night stand and then spend the night there,” he said with a grin, but Ranpo grabbed him by the arm.
“No, you're not.”
“But …,” Dazai protested, but couldn't find the strength to break free.
“Are you afraid of Kunikida scolding you?”
Dazai gulped, but did not answer the question. Ranpo didn't need to hear the words come out of his mouth either to know that he didn't want to deal with Kunikida's anger in his condition.
“It's okay, I told him I found you and to back off.”
“As if Kunikida-kun would abide by that,” Dazai breathed in annoyance, biting his lower lip almost fearfully.
“Atsushi's going to be there too, so don't worry about it.”
“I'm not worried. Just tired. I don't feel like having to explain myself to him.”
Dazai now sat down on the floor and rubbed his temples strained. Ranpo was right. He was drunk, his head hurt, he was nauseous, and the burning of his arms was getting on his last nerve. And then there was that damned dizziness again, which always came back to haunt him and made the world spin. Ranpo stood next to him and put a hand on Dazai's mop of hair almost comfortingly. Dazai said nothing in response.
“I'm sorry,” he then whispered.
“It's all right.”
“I'm always causing you trouble,” he began again.
“Really, it's all right.”
“But,” he now started, and Ranpo patted him on the head, so he just sucked in a sharp breath and breathed only a soft, broken “Thank you.”