#Ranpo did not learn to tie his shoes until a while

[scrimblyscrorblo]

A lil’ kiddie drawing of these two menaces, they boast constantly they’re terrible they get into arguments all the time

[mamichigo]

Hi! How are you? May I request a Dazatsu scenario/headcanon when Dazai went back to Port Mafia (the condition of Mori in the past chapters), Atsushi is devastated and after a while Dazai surprises him and confess???aasdhmkdljk!!! Thank you!!!!

Anon, I hope you don’t mind that I went the extra mile and actually wrote this. If you’d like something different, please do let me know.

the shape of your absence (1.9k)

When he thought about it—truly thought about it, as he rarely allowed himself to do so the pain and the despair wouldn’t creep back in and hold him with shackles that pulled on his neck and stole his breath away—, the anger he felt was misplaced. Unfair, even. If Atsushi let himself be rational about the events that transpired not so long ago (two weeks and three days, almost four), the steam of rage would slowly seep out of him like mist.

And that was exactly the problem, as once the anger left, all that took its place were tears that Atsushi had been choking on for days on end. He had already cried enough, the first night. For so long his head pounded, his throat burned and his entire body was drained of all energy. Getting up from the bed the day after was a nearly impossible task, but Atsushi showed up for work anyway—more for everyone else’s sake than his own.

Though, seeing their faces fall even further at the sight of Atsushi’s disheveled state, maybe he shouldn’t have come at all, then.

It was much too late to think about that, now. But Atsushi found himself reflecting on his own actions more often than not, nowadays. Not on anything that truly mattered on the longer run, mind you: maybe he could’ve replied more enthusiastically to Tanizaki’s invitation a few days ago, he could’ve offered to help when he noticed Yosano struggling with the coffee machine, he could’ve fixed his own tie before Kunikida had approached and fixed it for him (albeit not without grumbling and scolding him quite a few times).

Just normal, ordinary interactions that left Atsushi feeling a stranger in his own skin, struggling to remember if this was how he responded to others in any given situation. The more often it happened, the worse Atsushi would feel; every time Atsushi blinked at them in confusion, every time he hesitated or stayed quiet for too long before asking what were they talking about, again? With each one of those moments, the worry only grew on their already exhausted looking faces.

Atsushi didn’t know how to explain to them that he felt lost, adrift in a sea he never learned how to navigate. He had been riding on someone else’s boat this entire time, and now he could no longer bring himself to the shore, nor was there an anchor to keep himself from being dragged by the tide.

He didn’t know how to explain that, while Atsushi talked to them, he only saw the empty spot beside them, where Dazai should be standing.

How did he let others know that, for over two weeks, all Atsushi heard was fading laughter, while everyone else was completely silent?

Even more so, how did he let all those feelings out, when Kunikida was staring at him expectantly, waiting for a response that Atsushi couldn’t give, because his mind and heart weren’t there at all. Atsushi opened and closed his mouth several times; Kunikida’s frown deepened. He could feel Ranpo’s knowing gaze burning on his back.

It was just the same as always, all he needed to do was ask Kunikida to repeat himself. But the sun was getting lower on the horizon, and with it went the rest of Atsushi’s resolve and his already weak front. The familiar sting of tears greeted him, and Atsushi tried for a wobbly smile, but didn’t fool himself into thinking it looked like anything else other than a grimace.

“I— I need to go,” was what he was able to to say before running out of there completely, stumbling through the heaviness of his own body. He heard Kunikida’s voice behind him, but didn’t stick around for long enough to find out if the man would come after him.

He doesn’t stop running once he’s out of the Agency building. Instead, he takes one long breath of clean air and picks up the pace, fast enough that the people, the streets, all become a blur he can’t distinguish. He wheezes out apologies on automatic, not even feeling when he comes in contact with some stranger’s shoulder.

For weeks now Atsushi has felt the urge to escape, somewhere far away from the uncertainty, the heavy atmosphere in the office that made the air rarefied. He just wanted to be able to breath without feeling like his lungs were collapsing, to look and see past the ghost of warm brown eyes. It didn’t matter from what he was running, or towards what, all Atsushi knew was that he needed to go, now , before his body ceased to function altogether under the weight of his too tired heart.

He ran until he no longer could, until his feet tripped on air and he was falling down, down and down for what felt way longer than it truly was. By the time he stops, face pressed to warm grass, there are new and burning cuts all along his arms and legs, but Atsushi can’t find it in himself to get up.

He gazes at the bright surface of the river, reflecting the orange light of the sunset, and chuckles miserably. Of course, of all the places to go, his body would decide to come here.

Here, of all places. Where they…

“We first met here, didn’t we? What a coincidence.”

Atsushi doesn’t turn. In fact, he doesn’t do anything at all, already tired beyond what he’s capable of bearing to let himself hope that this time, when he hears Dazai’s voice, it’ll be true. To let that hope be shattered yet again when he finds out it’s only one more trick his own mind is playing on him.

“You know, I expected a lot of things, but being ignored wasn’t one of them.” Atsushi hears the grass crunch as it’s stepped on for a few seconds that last for an eternity. A pair of perfectly polished dress shoes come into view, and when he looks up, brown eyes looks back. “Hello, Atsushi-kun.”

His throat constricts, and he struggles not to fall apart entirely when his heart falls out of his chest. Perhaps in any other situation he would’ve acted in a more composed fashion, but as it is right now, Atsushi can only scramble to get to Dazai, throwing himself at him in a messy hug.

“Woah!” Dazai says, holding him even if only to keep them both from suffering a painful fall (in Atsushi’s case, another one). “Slow down— Atsushi-kun, I can’t breathe—”

“I was so worried, I didn’t know what would happen. We didn’t have any updates on you for so long, I was starting to fear that— I was afraid you would—” Atsushi shivered, unable to let the words out. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Dazai chuckles, starting on a sentence that would surely be just another joke, a dismissive explanation. But Atsushi can’t hear it right now, is sure he would just break into tears if he did, so he hugs Dazai tighter, as much as he possibly can without hurting Dazai.

The words get cut off, and Dazai goes quiet, not moving for a minute. Then, a bit hesitantly, as if unsure of what to do with his own hands, Dazai wrapped his arms around Atsushi’s waist, the young man tucked neatly under his chin.

“I thought you wouldn’t be coming back,” Atsushi whispers, hopeful and fragile like he had stopped himself from being so many times since Dazai walked away flanked by Port Mafia goons.

And just like that, It’s as if the world cracks around them. The temperature drops, Dazai’s body tenses, and his arms slowly retract despite Atsushi’s attempts to keep him there.

“I’m not,” Dazai says, blunt and almost cruel in a way that he rarely was with Atsushi.

“What?”

“I’m not coming back, Atsushi-kun.” Dazai nudges Atsushi’s body away with a gentleness that betrays his tone. Atsushi, confused, stares at him unblinking, unsteady on his feet. “I made my decision, I’m not going back on it.”

“Why not?” He blurted out. “I— Don’t you want to come back?”

“It’s not about wanting, Atsushi-kun, it’s about what’s better for the Agency. This was the best alternative,” Dazai explained, but Atsushi couldn’t make sense of his words.

“There has to be another way, right? Another solution. You always managed to find a way out, we can fix this, too,” Atsushi insiststed.

When he takes a step forward, Dazai takes one back.

“It’s not that simple,” Dazai says.

“Then we’ll make it that simple!” Atsushi pleaded, still inching closer to Dazai even when he pulled away.

“That’s not how it works, you don’t get it—”

Before Dazai could escape again, Atsushi reached for him, taking hold of his wrist, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Then make me understand!”

“I love you!” Dazai ground out in a pained whisper, as if it was squeezed out of him. He broke away from Atsushi’s touch, only to hold his head between his palms. “Just listen to me, I love you. I need to make sure you and the life that you cherish are left intact, no matter what happens. I can’t lose anyone else, Atsushi-kun.”

“I don’t want to lose you either!” Atsushi told him, clutching one of the hands still on his cheek. “Please, Dazai-san—”

“Live. No matter what happens to me, live, Atsushi-kun.”

As soon as Dazai let go of him, fingers slipping through Atsushi’s, he knew he was losing him.

“If you’re not there, I…”

He tries, one last time, to get in Dazai’s space. Maybe, if he held on tight enough, Dazai would stay. Maybe he could strip away the Mafia black that tainted him, in plain sight as his new dark coat billowed in the wind.

But as soon as he as much as twitches, something cold is pressed to his forehead, and Atsushi stares in shock at the barrel of the gun.

“My subordinates should be here any second,” Dazai says, words as cold as his eyes (so far from the warmth that Atsushi had become accustomed to and taken comfort in). “Go, Atsushi-kun. And don’t come looking for me.”

Atsushi breathes in and takes a step forward, so the gun is flush against his skin. He shakes, but he’s confident when he says, “You wouldn’t shoot me.”

Dazai visibly falters, fingers twitching around the trigger. He smiles, brimming with a pain that Atsushi can only begin to understand.

“Please, go. I’m begging you.”

Atsushi looks from the gun to the Dazai’s hunched shoulders, to the way Dazai’s entire body seems to reject the heavy clothes he wore as a member of the Port Mafia. He looks into Dazai’s eyes, the person he trusts with his whole soul, and nods.

“I’ll come back for you,” Atsushi says, with the conviction that his own heartache had smothered in the past few weeks. “I’ll find a way.”

Dazai didn’t reply, nor did he move, but Atsushi knew he heard him. Moving past the gun, Atsushi pressed a brief kiss to the corner of Dazai’s mouth. “I love you too, please wait for me,” he whispers.

Atsushi sees black spots approaching them out of the corner of his eyes and any chances he had to say more is cut short, so Atsushi squeezes his eyes shut and turns, refusing to say goodbye.

As Atsushi runs in the opposite direction, he fails to see the tears in Dazai’s own eyes.