Chapter Text
The night was eerily quiet. The only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the office clock, each second slicing through the stillness like a reminder of time slipping away. Kunikida sat at his desk, staring blankly at paperwork that had long since ceased to make sense. His mind was elsewhere—on Dazai, of course. That idiot had been missing for hours, and with each passing minute, Kunikida’s unease grew.
The door to the office creaked open, and Dazai stumbled in. His normally composed face was pale, his shirt stained with dark blotches. Kunikida’s heart sank as his eyes traveled down to Dazai’s wrists, red and raw, with blood seeping through hastily tied bandages.
“Dazai!” Kunikida’s voice cracked as he shot up from his seat, rushing to his side. Dazai collapsed into a chair, his usual carefree demeanor barely hanging on by a thread.
“Ah, Kunikida… Just the man I wanted to see,” Dazai said, his voice uncharacteristically weak, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Turns out I failed again. How tragic, don’t you think?”
Kunikida’s jaw clenched as he grabbed the first-aid kit from the cabinet, his hands trembling as he knelt down in front of Dazai. He didn’t speak at first, too consumed by the sight of the man before him. The blood, the wounds—he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Dazai was always joking about death, about suicide, but this—this was too real.
“Shit,” Kunikida’s voice came out rough, his hands working quickly to untie the soaked bandages and replace them with clean ones. “Why would you—”
Dazai let out a soft chuckle. “Isn’t that the question everyone asks me? ‘Why?’ I suppose it’s a little complicated.” He winced as Kunikida tightened the bandage, but there was no protest, no attempt to stop him.
Kunikida fought the urge to snap, to yell at him. Instead, he kept his voice low. “You can’t keep doing this, Dazai. You think it’s all a joke, but you’re not just playing with your life—you’re playing with everyone who cares about you. Did you ever think about that? Fucking think!”
Dazai stared at him for a long moment, his usual mask of indifference slipping slightly. His voice was quieter now, more somber. “You make it sound like my life is worth something.”
Kunikida stopped, his fingers hovering above the bandage. “It is, I know it is.”
Dazai’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, a mix of disbelief and bitterness. “Why? Because I’m useful to the agency? Because I have a role to play? That’s not the same as being worth anything, Kunikida.”
Kunikida set the bandage down, his frustration boiling over. “It’s not about your role in the agency. This isn’t about work. It’s about you—your life has value because you’re here, because you’re a person, and I—” His voice caught, surprising even himself. “I don’t want to lose you.”
For a moment, there was only silence between them. Dazai stared at the floor, his hair falling over his eyes, obscuring his expression. The weight of Kunikida’s words hung in the air like a heavy cloud, pressing down on them both.
“I don’t get you,” Kunikida said quietly, sitting back on his heels. “You act like life is this game you can just throw away whenever you feel like it. But it’s not. You can’t just… give up.”
Dazai leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “It’s not that simple. You think I want to feel this way? That it’s some choice I made? It’s like… drowning in a sea of nothing. No matter what I do, I can’t swim to the surface.”
Kunikida’s expression softened. He hadn’t expected this level of honesty from Dazai. It felt strange, almost surreal, to see him like this—vulnerable, without the usual sarcasm and theatrics.
“You don’t have to do it alone,” Kunikida said, his voice firm but kind. “You have people who care about you. I care about you. And if you let them, they’ll help you. I’ll help you.”
Dazai’s eyes met his, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something genuine. “You really believe that?”
“I do.”
They sat in silence for a while, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. Kunikida finished wrapping the bandages, his hands steady now. He didn’t say anything more, but his presence was enough—a quiet reminder that Dazai wasn’t as alone as he thought.
Finally, Dazai broke the silence, his voice soft. “You know, Kunikida, you really are too much of an idealist.”
Kunikida snorted. “Maybe. But someone has to be, or the world would fall apart.”
Dazai smiled faintly, though there was no mockery in it this time. “I suppose you’re right.”
For the first time that night, the tension eased, just a little. Kunikida stood, placing a hand on Dazai’s shoulder as he did. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
Dazai didn’t resist. He let Kunikida pull him to his feet, and together, they walked out of the office into the quiet night. There were no grand promises, no sudden revelations—but for now, it was enough that they were walking forward, side by side.