lemon futon AND kunichuu + "THAT's who you were talking about?!" "look at who you're holding hands with!"
nikomushithaniel + "it could have ended differently" "i know."
beast souheki + "why?"
i offer you some silly fun times followed by ✨angst✨
lemon futon & kunichuu
“THAT’S who you were talking about?!” Katai demands, gesturing wildly with one hand. “Kunikida, that’s a Port Mafia executive!”
Chuuya rolls their eyes.
Kunikida bristles. “You’re concerned about me? Look at who you’re holding hands with!” This, he thinks, is a fair argument to make. Because Katai is holding hands with one Kajii Motojirou, the Port Mafia’s notorious lemon bomber, while Chuuya is a well-mannered, polite, individual who just happens to also work for the mafia. There’s a pretty big difference between the two, as far as Kunikida is concerned.
Needless to say, when Katai said he would be introducing his partner to Kunikida, he did not expect to see a familiar face. Definitely not mafia familiar.
“You hate the mafia,” Kunikida points out.
“So do you!”
“Well—”
“As far as I’m concerned,” Chuuya cuts in, “you’re both hypocrites. You two can argue all you want, but if this goes on for too much longer, Kajii and I are going to ditch you and go out ourselves.”
Kajii grins, maniacal and dangerous. Kunikida tenses.
But…he supposes Chuuya gets like that sometimes too. The wild, carefree, laughter. The wicked glint in their eyes. And while it scared Kunikida at first, it’s now one of the endless things about Chuuya that he finds indescribable beauty in.
So maybe he can trust Katai and give Kajii a chance.
-
nikomushithaniel + “it could have ended differently” “i know”
“It could have ended differently,” Mushitarou spits out. It stings, like a knife to the gut; he says it like Nikolai doesn’t care. Like he hasn’t lost hours upon hours of sleep combing through his memories pointing out all of the moments he could have done something—anything—to change the ending.
“I know!” he snaps, hands clenched into fists at his side. Curled so tight his fingernails are drawing blood. He knows, he knows, he knows. They could have stopped Nathaniel, could have talked him out of it. They could have simply escaped with him in tow.
They could have done any number of things, but now—
Now, it’s too late.
It could have ended differently, but they both missed every opportunity to bring about the needed change, and now they’re left alone with the broken pieces. Nathaniel was the blood binding them together, and with him gone…
“Just get out of here,” Mushitarou orders. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Nikolai doesn’t argue. He just leaves.
-
beast souheki + “why?”
Ranpo didn’t go to the funeral.
He knew exactly where and when it happened, but the gathering was so small they would have instantly noticed an enemy in their midst. It wasn’t his place to intrude regardless. He never meant that much to Dazai.
Then again, no one did.
He refused to let himself care about anyone. And now he’s gone.
Ranpo sits in the wet grass, back against the headstone, face tilted towards the sky. Two weeks ago, they were in Dazai’s bed, back pressed against the mattress, teeth sinking into his skin. And now—
“Why?” they whisper.
No answer comes. The dead cannot speak. Ranpo knows this all too well.
The dead do nothing but leave you with unanswered questions and ghosts that you cannot shake.
Dazai never even fully removed his bandages when they were together. It meant nothing to him, and Ranpo knows this—has always known this, but—
The one thing he doesn’t know is why Dazai jumped. The one thing Ultra Deduction cannot help him figure out is Dazai’s motivation. Ranpo has tossed and turned for hours, rolling the question through his head in the middle of the night, but they always come up empty.
It doesn’t make sense.
They knew he wanted to die—knew he planned it out, down to the second.
