Nine • Delirium

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"Hi" he offers breathlessly, but it doesn't seem like he's exhausted in any shape or form.

• • •

"Hi," you echo back, a gentle smile spreading across your lips, simply glad that he's back. He walks into the apartment, and you hear him inhale and then exhale slowly, letting his chest rise and fall in a steady movement.

It might almost look peaceful, like the rise of his chest is as if autumn leaves are simply falling off their trees, or a steady wave that stops right where your feet are planted on the sand.

It is almost a relief, Dazai's body isn't quite sure of what the feeling is, but then again Dazai hardly ever understood his feelings to begin with. Truly, he isn't exactly scared to speak with you, he just really doesn't want to make things worse than they already are.

He isn't even sure where to start with the conversation, like—

Asking how your day was just seems out of place, right? He thinks back to the cafe, allowing that weirdly comforting feeling when he was with Ango set in his mind.

"I read our old texts," he says, a small laugh sounding in the room as he turns to face you. "I bet it was perfect," Dazai continues, the feeling of a hole in his chest expanding slowly.

"It wasn't," you tell him, "we had our ups and downs—"

It's weird to speak to him like he's another person, as if he was just a close friend that knew of your relationship.

"—no one's truly perfect. As much as you believe that we were flawless, we've had our fair shares of imperfections."

Was it true though? Society always made it seem like there were in fact perfect people, but then again, who decided?

What even is society? The plural of human beings—?

—Ah, that question hits Dazai hard.

He walks up closer to you, taking one of your hands as he cups it with two of his own. "Regardless, I'll try to do my best in all of this," he whispers, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "If I act that way...or some way similar," Dazai closes his eyes, and his next few words seem like he didn't mean to say them out loud, like only he was meant to hear them—

"I'll fall in love with you, again."

With your other hand, you cup his cheek, and he instantly leans into it. It's comforting to know that even if Dazai doesn't remember, he still reacts all the same.

Opening his eyes, his glance trails down to your lips, and it feels like the right thing to do but god

Instead, he moves his face so that he can press a kiss to your forehead. He then removes one of his hands off of yours—the one that was covering yours—and presses another kiss to the top of your hand gently.

"We'll fix this mess."

• • •

"How boring!" Ranpo exclaims, throwing his head back as he looks at Fukuzawa.

"What? You've been playing on that thing for so long, has it gotten to you?" Fukuzawa asks, rearranging a stack of paper that doesn't need to be organized, again. "No, you're just not doing anything fun right now, what happened to surgeries, to the sick patients?"

Fukuzawa glares at him, holding the papers upright, freezing. "Are you saying that you want people to be injured and sick?"

"Well, not exactly, but it's still entertaining—" Ranpo answers straightforwardly. He drops the papers down, and pinches the bridge of his nose, "Okay, I'm never going to ask you questions ever again."

"Hey!" Ranpo shouts, putting the game he was playing to the side and taking his phone out instead. "I'll just talk to Dazai then." Fukuzawa raises an eyebrow at that. "You have a patient's...number?" His head spins, is that normal—? Never in his life has he ever seen a doctor suddenly become friends with their patient—

"We got along well, so I took his phone and put my number in," Ranpo replies, "how do you think he's doing, anyway?"

"You can't just—" Fukuzawa stops himself mid-sentence, his brain telling him to just leave it. "—I wouldn't assume too well, he's young, has strictly close relationships with only a few people, and no one knows too much about him. It'd be hard to remind someone who they are if no one truly knows them."

Ranpo hums in response, messaging Dazai as he agrees with what Fukuzawa said. "I still think it's weird how this happened."

"You're not a detective, Ranpo. You're a doctor, and this isn't your issue to deal with," Fukuzawa responds, sitting down at a seat across Ranpo. "I'm just saying," Ranpo states, opening his eyes to meet Fukuzawa's. "He's obviously different, and all this accident has done is make him go back to step one."

"I know I'm not supposed to say anything, but long story short," he leans back into the seat again, "I wouldn't be surprised if someone wanted him dead in the accident."

"Ranpo," Fukuzawa can't help but raise his voice. "You can't just say that about people. If you said to anyone else—"

"I know," Ranpo almost hisses back, leaning forward because he did not like the tone of Fukuzawa's voice. "That's why it's just us, I don't get other people's thought processes, and you are the only person that has stuck with me so yes, I know that I shouldn't say stuff like that to other people."

Fukuzawa sighs deeply, tilting his head to the side as the uneasy feeling of Ranpo's words fill him.

A/N: hahaha i don't know where this story is going either help

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