Dazai ran to work the next day, which was a major first. A full plastic bag was cradled in his arms when he burst through the entrance. Stopping at the convenience store cost him precious minutes. Apparently, everyone and their relatives stopped at the convenience store before heading into work or whatever else may be on their busy agenda. The line for the register was ridiculous to say the least.
The brunet didn't bother to stop at his own desk. Instead, he went straight to Ranpo's, dropping the plastic bag on top of his desk. The contents came spilling out. Potato chips, Pocky, lollipops, taiyaki, sweet red bean and matcha buns, Hi-chew, seaweed crisps, and Ramune were sprawled out all over the detective's desk. The scene was common when Ranpo went on break. Otherwise, his desk was pretty neat and organized.
Ranpo swiveled around in his office chair, gazing at the spread. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Where is he? I need to find him. I don't care that he's married. I just need to confirm a few things," Dazai said in one big rush.
"You did some information gathering, but you want me to give you the last piece of the puzzle?" It was more of a statement rather than a question.
"I'll take any useful hints. Whatever it is you can give me," he insisted.
Ranpo scribbled something down on a piece of paper, handing it over to Dazai, "you're right. You shouldn't care that he's married. It ended in failure." For both sides, is what he didn't say.
"Thanks," the brunet stuffed the note in his coat pocket. He hoped the information was worth the amount of snacks he rushed to get his co-worker.
He sat down at his desk. They say money burns a hole in most people's pockets. The note was doing the same. Fortunately, Dazai only had a half day to get through, but time dragged on nonetheless.
When he clocked out his mind had convinced itself that he was sitting there for an eternity. As soon as he walked outside of the office building, he reached into his coat pocket quickly unfolding Ranpo's note. The messy script was an address. Time to find his soulmate once and for all.
The address on the piece of paper led the suicide enthusiast to a popular brothel in town. There's no way it was the place he was looking for. Ranpo probably thought it would be fun to play a trick on him.
"And after all the snacks I bought him. He'll get what's coming to him later," Dazai almost turned to leave until something caught his attention.
A short redhead came out of the brothel's side entrance. He held two trash bags, tossing them into the nearest garbage can.
The brunet froze from the sight of him. It wasn't like he planned their meeting out in his head. What was he supposed to say? That they were long lost soulmates? He could come off as crazy if the other didn't believe in the soulmate bond.
Come on Dazai, think.
Another person decided to join the party.
"What the hell are you doing?" the spiky haired brunet asked.
"Taking out the trash, obviously," Chuuya lifted the lid of the can up. "How about you hop inside. We have to keep this area clear for the garbage men."
Tachihara slammed his back into the wall, "Kouyou has you playing the maid, huh? Is that one of your customer's kinks? Do you wear a black frilly dress only for them to tear it off of you? I bet you have a pair of matching panties with a large hole already in the back. Then, they can shove it in you without any trouble."
Dazai ignored the pain shooting through his spine. His fury was being fueled by the newcomer's words.
"Fuck off," Chuuya ground out. "Kouyou-san doesn't have me doing that kind of work."
"And why not?" Tachihara pressed himself closer to Chuuya.
"Because she wants me to heal first. All the marks you left on me aren't gone."
Tachihara yanked on the hair Chuuya kept draped over his shoulder, "I know you enjoyed every fucking minute of it. I remember how you begged. God. You sounded so pathetic."
The redhead grabbed Tachihara's wrist, "are you finished? Because I have more work to do."
The spiky haired brunet noticed the gloved hand, "since when have you worn gloves?"
Chuuya snatched his hand away. There was something he didn't want the other to know about. However, it was too late. Tachihara put two and two together.
"You're not wearing the ring anymore. Don't want anyone else to find out you're mine? What a joke. There are plenty of other ways for me to mark you."
He ripped the choker from Chuuya's throat. Tachihara practically bit the skin beneath his lips, sucking as hard as he could. A brand new blemish formed where Chuuya's choker would have been.
"You should have an easier time hiding that one," he laughed. "If you'll excuse me, I have a hot date to get to."
Chuuya bent down to pick his choker up, securing it around his neck once more. Raw emotion flowed from him. Dazai understood why. He experienced the same bite mark. The only difference was his bandages were already concealing it.
"How did I fall in love with a vulgar guy like him?" the redhead sighed. He closed his eyes not quite ready to go back inside the brothel yet.
Dazai took a small step forward, and Chuuya's eyes flew open. They stayed like that for a while, keeping a few feet apart.
Chuuya's look of confusion was replaced by a look of recognition, "I... remember you. You're one of La Petite Limace's regulars."
"I'm relieved to hear that you haven't forgotten me, strawberry short cake," Dazai grinned.
"How could I possibly forget a bandage wasting device like you," Chuuya's grin was smug, but it was easy to tell he was enjoying himself. "I don't work at the restaurant anymore so if you've got a complaint go talk to someone else."
Dazai shook his head, "I was there yesterday, and the food was spectacular like always. I've come to see you for a different reason." He began to unwrap the bandages around both arms. Afterwards, he moved to the ones around his neck.
Chuuya blinked in surprise. The marks littering Dazai's skin were eerily familiar. What did it mean? One word floated around the back of Chuuya's skull. The single word worked its way to the front of his brain, stating the undeniable truth; soulmates.
"You're trying to tell me you're my soulmate?" he couldn't believe it.
"That's right, Chuuya~" he nearly forgot Dazai liked to say his name in that stupid singsong voice.
"Soulmates or not, you've found me at the worst time possible."
The redhead wasn't sure if he was ready for a new relationship so soon. He had Tachihara and the divorce to worry about. Plus, not everyone got together with their soulmate. He was going to become used goods anyhow. If he bothered to count the night of his marriage, then he already achieved that status.
Chuuya wasn't all that close with Dazai to begin with. Every time he served Dazai they always ended up teasing each other. Some might call them friends, but that was as far as it went. He never saw the brunet outside of La Petite Limace. They hadn't exchanged much information about each other either.
"Why is that?" Dazai tilted his head slightly.
"I have so many other things to worry about. Having a soulmate is at the very bottom of the list," Chuuya opened the side entrance. "It was kind of nice catching up with you," he admitted. "But forget about everything you think we might have had."
It was cruel. He knew it was, but the blank slate he yearned for would be unattainable if people from his past decided to stay latched on to him. His waiter days were over. La Petite Limace stood in the shadow of his past. The only way now was forward.
Dazai watched the door close behind Chuuya. He couldn't let it end like this. They were soulmates for a reason, and he was happy to share that with Chuuya. The rejection hurt the most. Was that something the redhead could feel too? Or did the bond only force them to share physical pain?
Author's Note: Feeling the feels yet? ;) Also, I meant to put a note for this in the last chapter, but for anyone that might be curious, Limace is the French word for slug. That's why Dazai said the name is odd because La Petite Limace literally translates to The Small Slug. Well, that's all I've got for this author's corner. Until next time.