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When Dazai looked at you, he felt that little word on the edge of his tongue, desperate to be set free. The word he’d thought up weeks ago when you were doing nothing in particular, and it’d hit him that no matter what happened, he never wanted to let you go.
Yet, every time he tried to release the word, tried to tell you how much he loved you, you smiled a little too brightly, and his confidence deflated.
He didn’t know what happened in those little moments. Dazai had never been an insecure man, but when it came to this, he felt that being his usual, arrogant, overly assured self wasn’t enough.
Once, he’d even approached Atsushi about it. Asked if he thought you were in love with him.
And Atsushi, as expected, had let out his typical nervous laughter. “Is this a trick question? You’re not asking me honestly, are you?”
His eyes flitted around for help, but no one was paying them any attention, too busy with other tasks.
Dazai’s expression changed, and he forced himself to eliminate every ounce of self-doubt. What was he doing asking Atsushi of all people? “Of course it is,” he’d said loudly, hoping his expression matched the brashness of his words. “Who wouldn’t be in love with me?”
“Right,” Atsushi visibly relaxed, though Dazai still felt that itch of anxiety inside of him, turning him into the type of person he was not.
“I’d start by being a little bit more self-aware.” Kunikida’s fingers laid heavy against the keyboard, his typing a constant melody at the agency. “Or maybe just honest with yourself.”
Dazai changed the conversation, irritated, and banned Kunikida from entering it.
He didn’t need his input; there was a reason he’d asked Atsushi, after all. The younger man would beat around the bush whereas Kunikida would tell him the truth, and maybe, Dazai just really didn’t want to hear it.
Though Kunikida’s frankness was probably the reality check he needed. Dazai had been trying to figure out how to tell you for weeks now, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could agonize over it.
It made sense, at first, for him to question himself. What did a man like him know anything about love. How could he be certain that that was what he really felt when he looked at you?
He decided he wouldn’t say anything to you until he knew for sure. You were a kind person, and he really didn’t want to break your heart.
But as time went on, he started to wonder if maybe that wasn’t his only reason for keeping quiet. For holding those three little words so close to his chest, locking them up tightly before they threatened to spill out all at once.
The truth was, he was nervous. The realization made him sick, a sour-taste fizzling up in his mouth, disgusting and vile.
“Osamu?” your soft whisper brought him back to reality, reminding him that he was not alone, not allowed to be left with just his thoughts. Dinner with his colleagues was no place to be spacing out. “Is everything alright?”
He blinked. There was genuine concern in your eyes, so soft and much more delicate than he deserved. “Yes, everything’s fine, sweetheart. Why?”
Dazai squeezed the hand that rested on your lap, but it didn’t do much to ease your apprehension.
“You’re being quiet,” you said suspiciously, cocking your head to one side. “That’s… unlike you.”
“I’m just thinking.” Dazai smiled, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”
You hesitated, searching his eyes for any hint of a lie, but could find none. “Okay.” You sighed, squeezing his hand once more before dropping it completely. The smile was back on your face, though it was uncertain, and Dazai wondered when you had gotten so good at reading him.
Ranpo said something to you, and your attention was drawn away, lured instead to the dark-haired man across the table.
Dazai knew you didn’t believe him, but he appreciated that you never pushed for more information than he gave you. You knew he’d share it with you when he was ready, and you trusted him, despite all the reasons he’d given others not to do so.
That was one of the reasons he had fallen for you so utterly and completely. You, somehow, always understood what he needed, even if you didn’t understand the reason why.
He said less than usual during the meal, but not enough to draw any concern from the rest of his colleagues. In fact, he figured you were the only one who’d really noticed his silence, always so attuned to subtle changes in him.
He was completely and utterly sick with love for you. That was something he couldn’t deny.
It was hypnotic, the way you commanded the attention of some of the strongest skill users in Yokohama with just a word. Everyone at the agency loved you so sincerely, and his heart swelled at the fact that you cared for those people so outwardly, in a way he’d never been able to.
When Atsushi clumsily spilled his water on you and apologized profusely, you’d only laughed, pressing a towel into your clothes to soak up the liquid. When Kunikida started ranting about his day, you hadn’t said a word but listened closely, knowing how difficult it was for him to open up about his worries.
You brought Ranpo snacks at the end of every week, and you went shopping with Yosano when no one else wanted to. You told everyone you met to have a good day, even when you weren’t having one yourself.
Dazai shouldn’t get to have someone like you, and there was always the small plague of doubt, scratching at the back of him. It told him that one day, he’d be the reason your life was in shambles.
Another part of him was certain that this was all some elaborate dream, and one day, he’d wake up under bright fluorescents with people in white coats prodding at him. They’d say he’d gotten shot when he’d left the mafia, had been in a coma ever since. That the love of his life was just a beautiful, angelic image he’d created in his mind.
A stupid thought. He almost laughed at himself for coming up with something so ridiculous just to convince himself that he was unworthy of your affection.
The night passed quickly, quicker than he could’ve expected, and before he knew it, midnight had drawn nearer. He could see the way your eyelids fluttered slowly, sleepiness overcoming you.
“Want to go home?” he asked, kissing your temple. He was playing with your hand under the table as he leaned into you.
Ranpo grinned at the obvious display of affection, though Dazai couldn’t have cared less. He’d learned quickly that the way you made him feel was nothing to be embarrassed about.
You nodded, yawning as Dazai pulled you to your feet. He’d let Kunikida handle the bill and would get an earful of it on Monday.
You told everyone goodbye like you wouldn’t see them again in the morning, smiled like they were old friends you’d remembered from childhood.
Dazai loved you so much.
He held your hand as you walked back to your apartment, overwhelmed with a feeling he hadn’t known until he met you.
The two of you walked past shops in the center square, and your eyes lingered a little too long on a coat, only dragging away when Dazai asked if you were alright.
You nodded, and Dazai made a note to come back for the coat tomorrow.
Yokohama was never quiet, and that night was no different, but you still leaned against Dazai, somehow at peace in the city where everything bad seemed to happen. Few words were shared between you on your walk home, but you smelled like the crisp spring air and love and home, and Dazai could suddenly see some value in living.
He got ready for bed quickly once you both arrived home, heading straight for the bathroom while you prepared a cup of tea.
The rummaging in the kitchen continued as he undressed. His smile was gentle as he hung his coat up in your closet, admiring the way it fit there just as much as the rest of your clothes.
You were still boiling the tea when he finished, and he took a seat at the table, yawning. You’d be a little while longer, but he hated going to bed without you.
“I think I’m going to throw Atsushi a surprise birthday party,” you said out of the blue, pouring the hot water into the teacup. Your voice was faraway, thoughtful, like you had already been imagining how it would go, what decorations you would set up, what gift you would give. “I doubt he’s ever gotten one of those before. He always seems happiest when everyone’s together, and I want him to know how much we all care about him.”
Dazai smiled, dropping his chin to his hands as he watched you move around effortlessly, always drawing his eyes to you no matter how many people were in the room. His gaze might as well have been permanently glued to you. You shone so brightly that it was hard to look away.
He thinks he’s been in love with you from the moment he first saw you.
“That’s sweet, though, you’ll probably send him into cardiac arrest.” Dazai laughed. “He’ll cry, then everyone will stand around uncomfortably, wondering what to do next.”
You shook your head, amused. A cloud of steam billowed around you as you blew on the tea. “I mean it, Osamu.”
“I know,” he said, his voice soft. He was so sappy with you; it was sometimes hard to recognize himself.
He could only imagine the things that Odasaku say if he saw him now. Dazai didn’t believe in the afterlife, but he hoped that Oda could still watch over him somehow. He wanted him to see all the ways he’d changed.
“I just wouldn’t get too excited about it yet,” Dazai closed his eyes for a moment, exhausted. Yokohama seemed incapable of taking a break from crime, even for a moment. It had worn him out. “You know Atsushi’s birthday isn’t for months, my love.”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
Dazai opened his eyes at the exact moment that you froze, the gears in both of your heads turning. You had caught the word before he had.
Tension gathered in your shoulders, still facing away from him as you tried to rationalize his thoughtless revelation.
“Oh.”
Well. He’d done it now, hadn’t he? There was really no way to come back from that, no way to undo what had just left him mouth. He’d never called you that before.
A defensive, tentative expression was on your face when you turned. “Osamu?” Your voice had grown small, and Dazai loathed the sound of it. You should’ve been more certain of the fact that he loved you. He was, really, quite horrible at hiding it.
The silence stretched for a few more seconds as Dazai gathered up the courage to finally just spit it out, to tell you what he’d wanted to for weeks now.
“Did you mean to…” you darted your eyes away, letting your voice fade before your sentence was completed.
“Mean to what?” Dazai leaned forward in his chair, trying to catch your gaze again. He could’ve melted into a puddle right there on the floor, you were just so cute. Maybe he should mess with you for a little longer.
Your eyebrows drew together. “You just said…” Contemplated. “Nothing. I must have misheard.”
Dazai had always loved teasing you, but he knew where to draw the line. If he didn’t tell you the truth now, he wasn’t sure how long you would agonize over the conversation.
“Hey,” he said, trying to get your attention again. You were clearly upset, a frown forming on your kissable lips. “Would you look at me, pretty please?”
He almost laughed at his stupidity. Here you were, disappointed that he hadn’t just said what he’d meant, and all this time, he’d been nervous you wouldn’t feel the same way.
You sighed, looked at him with guarded, disillusioned eyes. “What?”
“I love you.”
He knew his smile must have been goofy, sideways, but the surprise on your face was more than worth it.
“What?” It came out a little cracked.
“I mean it. I love you. Very much.” He cupped your cheek, watching a twist of emotions flit over your face, marveling at how beautiful you were. “That’s why I’ve been quiet lately. I wasn’t sure how to tell you. I didn’t know if you felt the same.”
“You didn’t…” your voice was breathy, then you finally let out a blissful laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you.” You matched his posture, curling a hand around his jaw. “You tell me like this.” You kissed him quickly, simply not long enough for him to revel in the taste of you. “I love you too, Dazai Osamu. See how easy that was?”
And you were no poet, but he was certain those were the most beautiful words he’d ever heard.
“Why were you nervous?” you asked in amused disbelief, the joy on your face unerasable as you rested your head on his chest, tugging him into an embrace. The breath had been squeezed out of his lungs completely, and he didn’t know how to make this moment go slower, hold it in his palm and never let it go. “Everyone knows I’m in love with you.”
“Hm?” Dazai said, running a hand up and down your spine, feeling every joint. “Really?”
He had no idea. Maybe he should’ve asked Kunikida for the truth all along.
You tilted your head back, chin digging into his collarbone. “You really didn’t know?”
“I—” He should’ve; you’d never given him any reason to doubt how much you cared. He sincerely hoped you thought the same about him. “I guess I just never thought…”
A sad, cloudy look passed over you, though it quickly gave way to your sunny smile. You kissed his chin, then his cheek, then his nose, over and over again. Dazai could feel heat rise to his face, and he wondered what kind of ability you had that could make such a broken man whole again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
“Don’t wear the words out. I’ve only just said them,” Dazai said, though he was laughing, and you were so incredibly happy, he couldn’t bear to stop you.
“Don’t care.” You finally kissed his lips, and he held you against him, your skin hot against his palms. “I don’t want you to ever forget them. Don’t ever doubt that, okay? Promise me.”
He knew he didn’t deserve someone like you, but who was he to break that kind of promise when you looked at him so sweetly, your lips a flushing a shade darker than before, eyes warm with serenity. So he nodded, threw an arm over your shoulder, and said my love again.