The drive back to the agency was long. The moment they slipped out of the hospital, Kunikida could feel Dazai's body go rigid in his grasp. His harsh breathing hitched in urgent panic, feeble fingers clawing weakly against the long hair at his nape. Dazai clung to the familiar and safe presence with a death-grip, as if unable to pull himself close enough and wanting to crawl all the way under his coworker's skin for safety and warmth.
Kunikida paused. His partner's skeletal frame shivered vigorously against his body, and all he could do to comfort the broken man was hugging him closer to his chest.
"We'll be in the car soon, okay?" Kunikida hummed softly into Dazai's ear. "Just a few more steps."
Dazai didn't answer but emitted a few shrilling, forced exhales. A gust of wind tore at their clothes, making Kunikida's long pony-tail dance in the wind and ruffled through Dazai's overgrown locks. The frail form in the steady arms shuddered, way too thin to keep his warmth against the ripe autumn air.
Fukuzawa opened the car door for the two while Yosano disassembled the abandoned wheelchair and put it in the trunk.
"I'm going to sit you down now, okay?" Kunikida explained softly while he lowered his precious cargo into the backseats. If even possible, Dazai's clutch grew even tighter around Kunikida's neck and refused to let go.
It would be easy to pull the strengthless arms off, but there was no way Kunikida could get himself to pry those scarred, broken fingers away and watch those owlish, bright eyes stare terrifyingly back at him. The fingers were grasping for their lifeline, and for once, he was in a position to actually help Dazai, and Dazai would accept it. He exchanged glances with Fukuzawa, who eyed his subordinate's desperate fight solemnly.
"Hey, come on. I'll be sitting right next to you the whole time. I just need to buckle you up," Kunikda tried to assure, but Dazai's deep, terrified gaze pulled the stoic man's seams apart and unraveled his trusted ideals apart and scattered them into pieces.
There was nothing in his ideals about this.
"Please," Dazai rasped desperately. "D-don't w-want-" His frustration visibly grew from the inability to say what he actually wanted to say (that this was too much, he was scared that the moment he'd let go they would vanish into a beautiful dream before he'd wake up strapped onto His table), but his words were lost, stuck somewhere on their way out and he couldn't even properly think them.
Focusing all his energy to his voice, he croaked a final, "Don't let go."
Kunikida's heart felt like it dropped to the floor and splattered into a grimy mess of brokenness. The hoarse, nearly mute voice seemed way too weak to be coming from Dazai. He wasn't meant to sound like that. Dazai was supposed to be the epiphany of tongue-in-cheek, making fun of Kunikida and raving about the most absurd ways of committing suicide.
He wasn't supposed to be like this. This… This, small, fragile little thing, so close to breaking. So scared and hurt and shattered that it made his insides ache and he wanted to hold on to him and keep him safe from the cruelty that had been committed against him. Because any sudden movement, any unpredictable sound, any unknown presence, could crush him into a billion little pieces that would never fit together again, because important pieces had been removed and rendered him incomplete.
Again, Kunikida glanced questioningly towards his boss. " What should I do?" his eyes asked. How was he supposed to know what the right thing was? Every little moment seemed like a major disaster waiting to happen, and how was he supposed to know what would eventually trigger the eruption?
Fukuzawa simply nodded towards the seat, and Kunikida understood that he was told to get into the car with Dazai still in his arms. Internally, Kunikida decided to decipher the gesture as " I will take care of it if we get pulled over".
So, he sat down, Dazai still cradled on his lap.
"This is illegal, you know," he couldn't help but mutter under his breath, but Dazai didn't seem to mind too much, as he nudged his feverish face into the creak of the blonde's neck and stifled a yelp. Despite his ideals screaming bloody murder in disapproval of such reckless behavior, Kunikida didn't buckle their seatbelt in fear of aggravating Dazai's injuries, and settled in for a horribly nerve-wrecking ride back to the agency.
Once they arrived, Dazai was a babbling mess. Kunikida had never realized how bad the roads between the hospital and the agency needed repairs, before riding in the backseat of an old SUV with a severely traumatized person in his lap. Each bump in the road had Dazai whimpering, burying his face into Kunikida's blazer. Each sharp turn, Dazai had cried out of pure anguish. As they parked right in front of the entrance to the building, Daza was whispering silent pleas not to hurt him any further, and Kunkida couldn't keep from feeling they had moved him too soon.
"Hurry inside," Yosano murmured calmly. "Take him upstairs and put him in one of the beds while I park the car. Hopefully, the familiar surroundings will calm him down. I'll be up in a minute to set him up."
As carefully as possible, Kunikida stepped out of the car. His arms were starting to get tired now, despite the feather-like weight. He rushed inside to get away from the wind, and exhaled in relief once the door was silently being shut by the director behind them.
"Are you okay?" Kunikida asked the bundle in his arms. Dazai exhaled sharply and nodded statically. Kunikida didn't like the raggedness of his breathing. He'd probably gone too long without a breathing apparatus in addition to having been over-exerted by the move.
Carefully, they moved up to the third floor, entering and immediately taking a left towards the infirmary. The rest of the Agency was still working in the office area, but this wasn't the right time for visitors. Hopefully, they would be able to get Dazai settled properly before they even realized that he was back.
As much as they had made sure to keep visitors at a bare minimum, especially the first couple of days, no one could have anticipated the dark-clad duo, glaring holes through the lot where they stood in an apprehensive greeting committee, protectively in front of the infirmary.
One stifled a low cough with a fisted hand and the other had anger seething through red locks of hair.
"What are you doing here?" Kunikida spat towards the two mafiosos, teeth tight in an angry gnarl.
"This isn't the time for... whatever this is," Atsushi helped, still at a safe distance from the two, half-way hiding behind Kunikida.
Chuuya rolled his eyes. "What makes you think that we have ulterior motives? Maybe we just want to see the mummified bastard?"
"And why would you assume he's here and not at the hospital?" Kunikida asked skeptically, crossing his arms.
A door clasped shut behind them, catching their attention."I notified them," the low rumble of Fukuzawa's voice suddenly called from across the hall."However, I didn't expect you so soon."
"Yeah, the boss wanted a confirmation that he was actually alive, so... here we are," Chuuya shrugged, acting extremely bothered. Akutagawa shifted restlessly, gaze lowered to the floor.
"Well, we're not allowing any visitors at this time," Kunikida muttered strictly, arms crossed, but Fukuzawa waved him off, approaching the two mafiosos. He calmly assessed them, eyes lingering a little longer at Akutagawa who seemed to writhe under his intimidating being.
"You are Ryunosuke Akutagawa, I don't think we've ever been properly introduced," he greeted and bowed lightly. The teen's eyes enlarged in surprise and hurried to mirror the gesture.
"Y-yes, it's nice to meet you, Fukuzawa-sama," he croaked nervously. Fukuzawa gave him a curt nod.
"Dazai speaks highly of your abilities," the elder continued, taking pity towards the neurotic teen, who perched up at his words. Akutagawa seemed like he wanted to see something else, but Chuuya interrupted him.
"Listen, we just want to make sure that he's okay for the boss, then we'll be out of your hair."
Kunikida's frown deepened. "That's not happenin-"
"Will you shut your mouth, damn four-eyes!" Chuuya raised his voice and snapped at him.
Seconds later, a loud crash was heard from the infirmary. The group in the hallway froze, attention at the door. Something shuffled hastily inside. Kunikida and Fukuzawa exchanged glances, the director giving the other permission to check what was going on, and Kunikida brushed past the others.
He moved swiftly beyond the room-dividers and towards Dazai's bedpost, first seeing Yosano leaning over the metal railings. A cup laid broken on the floor under her feet, surrounded by what looked and smelled like fresh broth. Then, he heard the mangled wheezing.
"Hey, hey, listen to me," Yosano spoke softly. "It's okay, I know you didn't do it on purpose."
The rage towards the Port Mafia assholes quickly washed off. He could feel his shoulders drop as he sighed, a dreary sadness replacing the fiery pit in his chest. After another couple of careful steps forward, Yosano noticed him.
"What the hell are you guys doing out there? You startled the shit outta him!" she growled silently, gesturing to the soiled floor with a nod. Her arms were busy holding Dazai and stroking back his hair, while the fragile back, still clad in his new soft cardigan, quivered like an aspen leaf, rocking back and forth almost unnoticeable.
"Shit," Kunikida murmured, anger slowly building back up. "It's nothing to worry about." With delicate steps, he walked closer, settling lightly on the bed beside Yosano.
"I can take over here. You should go and have a word with the director."
Yosano looked at him skeptically, then at the crumpled heap in her arms. "Did you hear Kunikida, Dazai?" There was no change in his frantic gasps. "He says that everything is okay and that the director wants to have a word. Kunikida will stay with you though, okay?"
She gave the blonde a solemn look, and they changed places as quickly as possible. Only with Dazai settled in his embrace, he could hear the strangled words coming out between the heavy breathing.
"M'sorry, m'sorry, m'sorry, m'sorry," he repeated endlessly, and Kunikida realized that Dazai's mind was somewhere else entirely. Had they really caused this? Was this how things were going to be for the foreseeable future? A loud voice, a loud voice Dazai should be familiar with at that, was enough to scare him to pieces? Enough to cause this terrified, guilt-ridden mess?
Soon, he had to realize that there was nothing he could do for Dazai except to be there while they rode the panic attack out. They fell into a hypnotic rocking-motion, Dazai's voice slowly fading out, becoming too worn to make any more sound. Small, whistled coughs tore through his frame, making his whole body seize with each hack. Nearly ten minutes later, he laid limp, head resting on Kunikida's thighs. Droplets of sweat fell from his forehead, following the path at the side of his nose, and landed in the creak of half-lidded eyes that stared tiredly at nothing.
Before placing Dazai back into the pillows, Kunikida wiped the feverish perspiration off his hairline, grimacing at the radiating heat. The spectacled man carefully got up from the bed to fetch a wet rag. When he returned, Dazai cocked his head and looked curiously at him.
"K-ida?" he asked dazed, squinting. The 'K' looked like it physically hurt him, the slight winch betraying him.
Kunikida realized that Dazai had no idea what had just happened, that he had actually been there the past quarter of an hour. He set a bowl of cool water on the side table pushed to the side of the bed, and soaked the rag before pushing it gently to his temple. Dazai wrinkled his nose at the cold water against his flustered skin.
"Don't worry about it. Yosano went to talk to the director," he explained softly, tapping over his forehead, careful across still bruised skin. Dazai simply nodded, head lolling back and forth before settling back against the pillows.
The blonde placed the cloth back into the bowl before he fetched a broom to clean up the shards on the floor. Only when he had discarded the glass and cleaned the lukewarm broth, did he realize that Dazai was trying to catch his attention.
"Uh, sorry, I didn't see you," Kunikida chuckled, somehow elated by Dazai floppy waving and slightly annoyed expression. It looked more like him. But it didn't last long, as when he tried to speak, not a single sound would leave his lips. Dazai tried to clear his throat, but winched. Kunikida figured he had cried his damaged throat raw during his episode. He tried to smile reassuringly.
"That's okay. It's the afternoon. Your voice will be back tomorrow."
Dazai frowned as he thought, before he started to wiggle his healthy arm into the air. It took a few seconds for Kunikida to understand that he wanted a pen, and went to get him one along with a notepad. Dazai immediately started scribbling with his left hand.
"Your handwriting is barely legible when your right arm isn't broken," Kunikida muttered as Dazai handed him a piece of paper.
"Did I break the glass?"Kunikida stared at the note in confusion. "I promise I won't get mad, but are you actually left-handed?" Straight, actually readable letters pried the page. If even possible, Dazai's cheeks flushed even deeper. He took the pad back and started to write, 'I'm ab-'
He paused, scratching over the letters before starting again. 'a-m-b-' The pencil lingered indecisively on the paper as if he was scared of the next letter. Kunikida watched the shaking pencil with concern, expecting the tip to break any minute.
"Ambidextrous?" he suggested attentively, watching Dazai's expression twist with frustration. He couldn't remember, either the word or how to write it. Maybe both. Kunikida tried to smile. "Don't worry about it. It'll come back to you." He picked the pencil out of Dazai's hand and placed it on the table together with the notepad and basin.
Dazai sat back dejectedly, gaze locked at his lap. As Kunikida opened his mouth to say something, the door to the infirmary silently brushed open, and Dazai's left hand reached for Kunikida. He had startled. The blonde sat down at the bedside while leaning to see who entered.
"How are things?" Yosano's voice called before they could see her. Kunikida was unsure if Dazai noticed that she didn't shut the door behind him, but at least he didn't seem to be beating himself up for being unable to remember the word ambidextrous anymore.
"Dazai is temporarily mute, but other than that…" Kunikida looked back at Dazai, who returned the gaze for a short moment before the pressure of holding eye contact became too much and he looked away. "Other than that, it's good."
Yosano peeked out from behind a blinder. "Uh, Dazai," she asked tentatively. He gave her a quick nod, to affirm that he heard her. "There's some… old friends that want to say hello." Kunikida clenched his teeth together, anger seething from him as Yosano shrugged apologetically. Dazai's attention shifted between the two, anxiety growing from the tension in the room. Footsteps approached and Kunikida would have kicked the damn divider down if it wouldn't have frightened Dazai half to death. There was no one else there! Why the hell were they up?
Fukuzawa stopped by Yosano's side, peering at Dazai's alerted form before stepping aside, letting the two mafioso's into view.
Dazai's eyes shot open.
-
Aaaand that's as far as I've come up to this! Thank you so much for reading!