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As Disgusting as sweets were, particular from Mori, Dazai couldn’t shake the odd fixation regarding the wrapped package weighting down his pockets off. Neatly wrapped in frilly paper the same shade as Mori’s silk scarf, tied together with a pink ribbon courtesy of Elise. No hearts dotted the wrappings like he’s seen on the one Kouyou gave to Chuuya who had blushed to the colors of Dazai’s own hidden chocolate package after an offhanded tease about Chuuya’s reaction.
“Shut the hell up! At least I got something. I bet nobody would get a selfish prick like you anything because those feelings would be wasted on you! You don’t give a fuck about anyone, so have fun buying yourself some chocolates, asshole!”
Another bet Chuuya would have lost. While his teary eyes upon receiving Kouyou’s chocolate had been quite hilarious and pathetic Dazai found no need to tell him about Elise’s, or rather Mori’s little gift. Rather the opposite. While Chuuya’s reaction could have been amusing why should Dazai have to proof anything? As if the lack of chocolates from a bunch of whores and Kouyou had an impact on him. He wasn’t big on sweets anyway.
Still, it had been rude to give them to Chuuya during his short visit. Not that he would have eaten chocolates from Kouyou. One could never be too careful about the possible, painful things she could have put inside of them as revenge for letting Chuuya use Corruption last month. Which hadn’t been his fault but Kouyou had always held more of a soft spot for Chuuya than him. In the end people always found a way to blame him for his actions even when given the choice. Dazai long learnt not to waste another thought about people’s reactions to his behavior outside of his predictions. Guilt never did seem to stick to him as well as to others.
The package inside his pocket burned, as if its presence alone could burn a hole through the fabric of his tailored pants. Bitter dark in its flavor much like his soul. As written on the small card attached to the box he hadn’t hesitated to burn as soon as he was out of Mori’s eerie sight. It had been a pointless gift which would end up in the trash where it belonged.
Not one big on holidays Dazai never bothered with them. Christmas, Halloween, New Years were all but another boring day he would have to endure. Nothing special.
He hadn’t known about Valentine’s day. A day dedicated to show love for another person in form of sweets. Gross. Dazai had the urge to stomp on the chocolates as soon as Mori held them out for him to take. Pretty wrappings aside this had to be a joke.
“It’s for you, Dazai-kun. Don’t you know what day today is?”
No, he didn’t. Dazai didn’t love anyone. Had Nobody he felt remotely affectionate towards enough to warrant such a gesture. Mori knew that. But he’d still cooed at his lack of knowledge as if Dazai was nothing but a slow child, not above rubbing salts into wounds Dazai thought he’d hide behind his bandages while pressing the package into his cold hands as if he’s a kid deserving a reward for holding still during a visit to the doctors.
At least Chuuya didn’t know either. He hadn’t gotten Big-Sis anything.
“Because I’m a generous Boss I’ll give you two the rest of the day off to spend it with someone whose company you enjoy. You’re free to stay inside my office if you find yourself with nowhere to turn to, Dazai-kun.”
A smile of artifactual sugar is clinging to Mori’s lips. Sticky like the cough-medicine Akutagawa is forced to take. Fake and sickening. Elise pets the ground next to her near Mori’s feet, not pausing in her scribbling and drawing to extend her invitation in words or a glance.
Dazai took one glance at the new ribbons adoring her dress, the hearts on her stockings before turning on his heels and walking off with a turn of his coat.
Mori had always been to keen on playing dress up during holidays for reasons beyond Dazai’s understanding.
“Wouldn’t surprise me if he put poison in there.”
Dazai let his fingers brush over the texture of the paper, tugging at the end of the ribbon. His coat thrown over a chair in his kitchen, sunlight flickering in through one of the windows he hadn’t bothered to close with a curtain.
“As disgustingly desperate for company as he is. Maybe he’s hoping it’ll make me so sick I’ve got no other choice but to visit him. How pathetic.”
Such fascination about a neatly warped box couldn’t be healthy. Not knowing information, even useless as it is, stung. Pride was a matter of mind over body. With a body like his own, marred by his own failures and shortcomings, Dazai couldn’t afford to lose it. Couldn’t let his head, his thoughts turn into another failure to bear for all to see. Bandages may be enough to hide behind from his own eyes and those of others but even if Dazai were to wrap both eyes in addition to his skin there would be no escape of his shame.
The package was mocking him. Calling him out on a truth everybody knew. A reminder and a warning not to forget.
Attachments are nothing but a burden. Caring brings you no advantage.
But you don’t have to worry about such things, do you?
Love is nothing but an abstract concept far out of reach for you.
Just like everything which could make life worth living.
All you have is your own. Nothing but yourself.
You’re unlike the rest and because of that, you’ll never find anything worth pursuing this life you’ve been cursed with.
Hand shooting out, Dazai’s fist hits the package sending it flying from the table to crash into the wall. The cracking noise of the chocolate breaking offers no comfort but it does silence the mess inside his head if only briefly.
“What’s the point of having anything if you’ll lose it? Why live when you’ll die? It’s pointless. A waste of time. Nothing to gain but scars and pain.”
His breathe is drowning out the noise of silence he’s come to loathe. For all the world was bleak and void of sounds the loudness of his thoughts would soon follow up without fail to fill them with bursts of hot red static noise. A world of monochrome with specks of blood he’s come to live in. A nightmare of his own making. One he cannot wake up from. The weight of bandages around his limbs a cage of evidence for the failure of his attempts holding him captivated.
Nobody understands. Even Mori, in all their shared revolting similarities, didn’t see what Dazai saw with one eye. Hope could be blinding. Lost in the shadow of a girl clinging to his existence Mori saw a purpose to live. Even if it was fake, nothing more than a mirror full of smoke he breathed it in like air into his lungs not knowing all it represented was the poisonous fume of a cigarette. A temporary joy bringing him closer to death.
But he’ll never lose her. She’ll remain forever as long as he lives and with him gone, she’ll vanish as well. There will be nothing lost.
Lips quirking into a humorless smile Dazai turns away from the sight of red and pink holding each other together, broken as the insides of the box were.
“People are so stupid.” Never picking apart their own thoughts.
“—It must be blissful to be an idiot. Maybe I should make some chocolates of my own. I’ll pay some girl to give them to the slug and watch him spit it out in disgust or get a stomachache. Who knows if I pay her enough, she might slap him for it!”
Despite the amusement the picture inside his head created he couldn’t be bothered to put in so much effort for a simple prank. Bombing his bike would be less of a hassle. Or burning his clothes. Then again, Chuuya might think him jealous.
“As if.”
Dazai snorts at the thought, shooting dirty glances at the package laying on his floor. He should throw it out. Let some stray dogs chew it to pieces and die. Would serve them right.
Glancing around his empty kitchen, another single chair looking at him from across the small, ratty table he had, worn down with use since Dazai hadn’t bought a new one after the owner had died, the blank walls free of pictures or calendars made him decide the trashcan sitting in the corner next to his fridge was too far away.
Whatever Mori’s aim had been with this stunt Dazai would rather bite of his tongue than admit defeat in one of their games. Tearing out his fingernails would be more enjoyable than spending the evening with Mori watching over him.
“—spend it with someone whose company you enjoy.”
Fingers halting their thrumming against the old stains of blood on the wood Dazai stood up, chair scraping against his floor in his quick movement.
“You don’t give a fuck about anyone—"
“The slug’s quick to misunderstand. I don’t give a shit about him, nowhere near enough I’d even waste the effort into pranking him with my self-made delicacies but—”
“—so have fun buying yourself some chocolate, asshole!”
“—there are people I have fun with, who would be overjoyed of getting chocolate from me! Someone stuffy like Ango would never get some without me around!”
Odasaku would never turn it down either. Thinking about the face, pale and full of horror, Ango would make upon seeing his chocolate Dazai felt a grin begin to sneak onto his lips.
“Let’s get to work!”
Making chocolate isn’t easy.
“I’ll have to shower and change after this.”
Dazai glared at the first two tries at making anything resembling chocolate. The first try had caught on fire—how it did, he didn’t know but he’d never tell Ango how close he came to meeting his end at the flames—and the second one was as hard as rocks. Not to mention nauseating in taste. Chocolate stuck to his shirt, his jacket thrown away after he tried to use it to put out the fire with it. Ingredients laid around his kitchen counters, spoon, a whisker, some heavy cream was spilled across the surface and the chocolate would take forever to get cleaned out from his apartment. It was everywhere.
This was no fun.
“I can disable a bomb,”
Trying to beat the melting chocolate into submission while mixing in the heated hot cream, his fingers were throbbing.
“—I know how to create poison because it’s simple chemistry. I can pick locks, security systems and jumpstart a car in a matter of minutes. I’ll not be beaten by chocolates!”
Despite his aching hands Dazai refused to buy them something from the store. It wasn’t the same. Material things were cheap, pointless, not worth the time or money spent on them. Giving Ango and Oda anything less than his honest efforts would make it meaningless.
In some way it would make him insignificant as well.
“You just need to be edible!”
For his circumstances at least. His special hot-pot chicken curry did taste good. Weird side-effects forgotten, he was still working on those. But making sweets or baking proved to be harder than he thought. His deadline was approaching soon.
A knock at his door stopped him from throwing the bowl at the wall in his frustration. Not bothering in cleaning up himself as he went to open the door, he growled in warning.
“What?”
His voice alone would have sent lesser man running. But Hirotsu merely blinked in surprise at his appearance before clearing his throat.
“I hadn’t meant to interrupt your…cooking, Dazai-kun, but there’s something I need to give you.”
Dazai frowned. “The Boss said I’ve got the rest of the day off.”
“Nothing work related.”
Shoulders relaxing a bit, Dazai titled his head. “What is it?”
“I have no intention of crossing any boundaries but you need to understand in my age the lack of grandchildren is heavy to bear for such an old man. You could use a bit of sweetness in your life. Think nothing of it.”
A grey package of coffee-flavored pralines is held out to him. There’s no bow or tie or decoration added to the sky-blue warping aside from his name written onto the paper.
Seeing Dazai’s silent stare burning a hole into the gift Hirotsu smiles. No hint of fear present.
“I didn’t have the time to make them myself, so you’ll have to forgive me if they contain any alcohol. The Boss surely wouldn’t approve of me enabling your drinking so early in this kind of career.”
“Hirotsu-san should be glad his softness inspires so much loyalty in his subordinates. Otherwise the Boss would’ve most likely gotten rid of you for such weakness long ago.”
Dazai takes the package, careful not to stain them with his sticky fingers.
“Are you going to tell him about this weakness of mine?”
“Should I not?”
An empty threat hidden behind his smile. Dazai is quick to brush it away with a laugh as he leans against the doorway.
“Of course, the Boss already knows! But I can keep myself from adding fuel into the fire if you tell me what I’m doing wrong in making my own. You know, I never lie during negotiations.”
Hirotsu sighs far fonder than Dazai thinks is appropriate for them and with too little relief for him to have taken Dazai’s threat at face value. Old people fear death less than the young when its staring them in the face.
“For one, the chocolate should be poured into a mold not onto yourself.”
“Is Hirotsu-san teasing me?”
Puffing out his cheeks as he narrows his eye the man does tense up for a second before Dazai huffs and lets the flash of irritation fade from his gaze. If Hirotsu would be gone there would be nobody around who thinks for themselves and listens to every word he has to say regarding missions and orders without being close to dying from fright like a rabbit.
“You’ve got no respect for your superiors. I’ll file out a complaint. Aren’t old people all about respect and stuff? How will your subordinates learn what respect is if you’re not giving them a good example? No wonder they dance out of line when you’re like this. Should I remind them of what happens when they dare to disrespect their betters? I’m sure after I’m done, they’ll raise their hands like children asking for permission to speak!”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hirotsu says without a waver in his voice but his spine has straightened at once and his skin has gone a shade lighter. “—but I don’t think that is necessary.”
“Fine, now tell me what I did wrong and don’t speak a word of this to anyone, understood?”
“I’ve never been here tonight.”
Dazai nods, eye gleaming a dark russet in the glow of the afternoon sun beginning to set as he steps aside to let Hirotsu inside his apartment.
“Good.”
“Here you go!”
Two different set of hands reach out and take the offered packages out of his hands. One wrapped into lemon green paper with a brown tie holding the squared box together in the form of a bow. A heart is scrabbled next to a name with a poor drawing of a raccoon. The other in a vibrant sky blue in the shape of a heart with a single name written across the surface. A white ribbon the only decoration on the box.
“What’s this?”
Ango eyes the box like he’s afraid a bomb is inside of it and Dazai leans against the counter of the bar, taking a swing of his whiskey in the hopes of loosening the lump stuck in his throat as he traces the rim of the glass with a finger.
“Do you need to check the prescription of your glasses? What do you think it is?”
“Something which could make me go blind. It’s not a jack in the box, right?”
Ango frowns, lightly shaking the small box like he believes Dazai could manage to squeeze a puppet in there just to scare him. Dazai laughs, but the sound doesn’t quite hit the mark of his usual pitch as he shakes his head in amusement.
“Guess you’ll have to open it to find out what’s inside! I’m not telling.”
Making a zipping motion across his lips Dazai waits. Palms sweaty as he slouches against the counter, trying to appear nonchalant. His eye darts between Ango’s slow movements speaking of careful wariness and Oda’s sure but attentive hands.
Both are opening their boxes with a measure of carefulness most people didn’t associate with opening gifts. Two different kinds making an opposite. While Ango is careful in the way like he expects something to be set off at the harshest movements Oda’s touch is treating the gift as if the content is fragile and to be treated with upmost care in fear of it breaking.
Mouth dry for a reason Dazai can’t explain, he waits.
“That’s…food, isn’t it?”
Ango sounds horrified in a fascinated way. Blanching in his seat as he inspects the chocolate Dazai has given him his eyes are wide and the frown on his face confused.
“It’s valentine’s chocolate.”
Oda throws him a glance balancing the box on his lap. Dazai hums, not trusting himself to speak as he nods as he keeps his head angled downwards.
Ango makes a face looking rather pinched. “Rocks would be a better description. I’m not going to get food poisoning, am I? Or some other kind of weird side effect like hallucinations, right?”
While Dazai does only have one eye to see it doesn’t mean he’s blind, so he understands why Ango feels the need to ask. His chocolates are in the shapes of crunchy, disformed rocks. Hard to touch and bite through with a strange moist squishy filling inside of them. Their color is a dark purplish black as if they’ve been burnt in the oven despite never having touched one. Neither smelling bad or good.
Their appearance screams poisonous and dangerous. Not safe for eating. Something Dazai would eat when depression rears its ugly head to sink its claws into his mind in the hopes of killing himself.
The salvia he swallows burns a trail down his throat to his chest and stomach as if it’s a bottle of bleach he’s gulped down rather than a mouthful of spit. Finger catching on the rim of his glass he pulls his lips upwards into a smile fit for interrogations as he curls his other hand resting on his lap underneath the counter into a fist.
“How rude,” He chides, hearing his pulse throbbing against his chest. He shifts on his seat, staring at the box in Ango’s hand instead of his face. “—I did taste test them first before offering them to you guys. But if you’re too scared to eat them after I spent so much time on making you such a heartfelt gift, he has to buy me another drink—no, another bottle of whiskey for all my troubles!”
Perhaps if he drowns this feeling of ants crawling over his skin, of the ground underneath his feet falling away as he’s plunged into ice water, it’ll disappear. Alcohol never did fill the void inside his chest but at least gave him a bit of warmth in the chill of his own skin.
“Why did you give us anything to begin with? The traditional gift givers on Valentine’s day are women.”
“You’re always so grumpy I thought I’d try to get you to loosen up with a few sweets. Ango’s mean~.”
No wonder nobody else but Mori and Hirotsu had given out chocolate today. Mori couldn’t have known he would try to give out some of his own, or could he? He’d planted the idea inside Dazai’s head in the first place but how could he be sure of him playing along when he hadn’t been certain about his choice of going through with making them? Was he so easy to read?
Look at yourself! Making one mistake after another…
How much more pathetic can you get?
He’d proven the man correct in his own weakness, admitting to it in public while suffering humiliation and rejection. Nails digging into his palm, he grits his teeth only to startle at the noise of someone crunching on hard cookies next to him.
“Weird texture,” Oda comments through his chewing before he swallows. “but not bad. They’re spicy, like curry. Don’t taste like it though. A bit sweeter…like orange liquor. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten chocolate like this before.”
“Odasaku…” Dazai breathes out, eye wide in surprise as Oda takes another rock out of the box to eat them. Ango makes a noise of shock before offering a deep sigh and taking one out as well.
“Here goes nothing.” Mumbling a quick prayer into the treat Ango puts it into his mouth to chew with a grimace which turns into an expression of reluctant pleasantness.
Oda swallows before he offers Dazai a small smile. The corner of his lips barely lifts up but his eyes are warmer than the summer sky and his voice is full of sincere gratitude.
“They’re delicious. Thank you, Dazai.”
Heat rising to his face Dazai can’t resist returning the smile with one of his own as the fist in his lap goes slack and the vice-grip around his lungs loosens. The breath he takes in hitches in his throat but air fills his lungs to clear them out of the smoke which had been festering inside of them for the past few minutes.
Ango raises an eyebrow, staring at his chocolates like he can’t believe he’s eaten one of them but reassured enough by not throwing up he reaches for another one as he gives Dazai a nod.
“They’re good. Surprisingly so. Considering your…talent in the kitchen.”
“See? I told you they were fine. You still owe me a drink.”
Ango tries to protest but after taking a closer look at Dazai’s face, all the fight seems to drain out of him as he nods and gestures for the bartender to give a refill.
Dazai grins, scratching at the plaster sticking to his cheek as he plays with the new ice cube in his glass. Not one for sweets as food did taste bland to him most of the days, with crab as the exception, he can’t say if the chocolate is as good as they make it out to be or if they’re just humoring him.
Deciding it doesn’t matter Dazai pretends the stinging in his eyes comes from the burn of the whiskey he’s gulping down too fast for Ango’s liking rather than from the muddle of warmth melting inside his bones.
For the next years following Odasaku’s death he doesn’t bother with cooking at all. Most days he needs a reminder to eat. The noisy grumbling of anger his stomach gives is an alarm clock telling him when his next meal should be.
When a chocolate bar full of fruits is delivered to him on White-Day with no sender he tears the wrappings off and breaks it apart with his bare hands before throwing it into the trash.
Chocolate for him those past few years has always been far too bitter to stomach. When Ranpo on his rare days or what he calls Dazai’s bad days deigns to hand over a piece of candy he always makes sure its not made out of chocolate. Gummy worms, a piece of gum, a lollipop, sour candy. Never chocolate.
The part of him denying any vulnerability pretends Ranpo hasn’t heard him throw up the chocolate cookie during their break when its been shoved down his throat during his early days in the Agency.
While the Agency has a policy regarding Valentine’s day, namely that every member, no matter what gender has to gift Ranpo chocolates, this doesn’t include him. Ranpo doesn’t complain, has made no offhand remark it bothers him despite it being like early Halloween in terms of sugar rush and candy high. The same goes for White-Day because the notion of Ranpo not getting any candy while others do is ridicules and would result in a tarrying temper tantrum leaving the office unable to get any work done for the next week.
So, Dazai hasn’t thought about making food in general the past few years.
Until two people he hadn’t expected to cornered him showed up two days before Valentine’s Day to give him what he loathed the most.
“You’re doing better so far. This is for taking care of Kyouka-chan.”
“Thank you for being better to my brother. He sends his regards.”
Kouyou and Gin had been honest as they took in his startled expression of thin-veiled disgust upon receiving their gift. Small as those bars were, as disgusting as they were to see and smell, he couldn’t bring himself to throw them away. Not when feelings and notions had been put into them. Dazai, for all his lack of morals couldn’t crush these hopes. Didn’t want to.
Gratitude. Joy. Hope. Faith. Willing to give him a chance. Taking his changes at their value instead of writing them off as some sort of scheme.
Throwing them away would have been similar to spitting onto Oda’s grave. He’d rather bite off his own tongue.
He kept them. Not daring to taste them when he couldn’t stand the smell but he didn’t dispose of them. They sat in the drawer of his desk, ready to be used to bribe Ranpo with if he should need his service. An emergency stash.
“You don’t give a fuck about anyone—"
Groaning inwardly in annoyance Dazai cursed Chuuya in his mind. Even far away the slug caused problems with his obnoxious self.
“I’ve never had someone give me Valentine’s chocolates before.”
“It’s not fair.” Dazai grumbled into his arms, glaring at the ingredients sitting on his kitchen table. On a whim he’s bought them while restocking his bandages, cans of canned crab and sake. At fault here clearly the mushrooms he had for lunch which caused another set of hallucinations. “Atsushi-kun will get his share if not from Kyouka-chan then from Montgomery-chan. Why should I make some?”
Because good people show they care. His mind points out. Which isn’t helpful at all. Try as he might he wouldn’t be unaffected should anything happen to those at the Agency, so of course he cares. If only a tiny bit.
It’s unfair of Oda to shove these feelings onto him without telling him what to do with them. Throwing him into the cold water while fully knowing he’d rather drown than try to float shouldn’t have been an option. But Oda had shoved him into a lifejacket, forcing him to try to paddle his way back to shore while ensuring his best he didn’t drown before leaving him behind.
“Thank you for the food! I was starving to death out there.”
“They’re delicious. Thank you.”
“Just this once. I’ll make them once and afterwards I’ll get myself thrown out of every supermarket in town, so that Kunikida-kun is forced to go shopping for me. I’ll never look at these damned things again after this.”
Rising from his chair as he takes the plastic bag over to his counter, he roles up his sleeves, his coat thrown over the back of one of his kitchen chairs and takes a deep breath.
Thinking of Atsushi’s wide grin after eating Tea on Rice for the first time, he thinks this might be worth the trouble he’s going through.
They don’t turn out any better this time around. The shapes, no matter how hard he tries to form them, end up deformed and hideous. It’s done at last. Hours he’ll never get back but some part of him eases at seeing the packages sit neatly warped in his fridge the next morning.
He puts them in a plastic bag, not bothering to hurry because arriving late at noon won’t be strange for him. Considering what day it is, they can be glad he’s showing up at all. He had skipped work for less plausible reasons.
By the time he arrives at the café where his waitress once again reminds if he wishes to get anything from her next year on Valentine’s Day he needs to pay off his debts on White-Day this year first, which he ignores with ease, he chalks the coiling of his stomach muscles up to excitement instead of nauseas.
How much fun it would be to make eyes at Kunikida and watch the man struggle and squirm with rejecting him to prevent himself a stomachache from the chocolate. For all the gruff exterior, his partner would stammer around an excuse much like Atsushi would in fear of hurting his feelings while trying to preserve his common sense.
Not that he would get food poisoning. His chocolates may look the part but Dazai made sure to taste test them first before warping them up. Even if he’s ready to throw up from so much taste tasting himself.
Still, it would be fun to watch their reactions.
Or that’s what he thought.
“…what exactly is this?”
“Are you going blind Kunikida-kun? It’s valentine’s chocolate!”
Beaming at the man, who’d frozen in shock after Dazai made his hurricane entrance around the office to dispose himself of the heavy weight of his gifts, he can see the man try to think of a way to get himself out of this situation without trampling across the minefield they thought his emotions to be.
“That’s not safe, is it?” Tanizaki whispers, flinching when Dazai’s gaze flickers towards him.
“What a weird color…”
“City folk’s chocolate sure is strange!”
“Ahh, but I’m sure it’s…not as bad as it looks, right? Is this a prank?”
Atsushi squeaks out, pallor of skin matching his hair. He holds onto his bar with trembling fingers, eyebrows drawn up in a hopeful smile.
Dazai blinks, frowning as he sits down on his desk chair. “I made them myself.”
“So, that’s why they look like a disaster…” Kunikida mutters to himself, eye twitching as he pokes one of the rocks like they might bite him. The chocolate from Naomi, Yosano, Haruno and Kyouka has been handed out and from his place next to Atsushi’s desk he can see the difference in quality just by looking at the smooth shape of hearts and cats.
Slumping a bit into his chair Dazai tells himself it doesn’t matter if they eat it or not. He’s done his part in making them and handing them out, or in Kunikida’s case throwing them at his face with a cheerful call for attention.
Panic flashes across Atsushi’s face for some reason as he holds up his hands, gesturing wildly with nervousness writing into every painful tension-filled line of his body.
“I’m sure they’re great, you made them after all! Dazai-san you see...we…we—"
“Yeah…it’s just we ate lunch earlier than expected so…” Tanizaki offers a crooked smile, pearls of sweat forming on his forehead. It’d be insulting how they think their lies would work on him if it weren’t so cute. A pitiful attempt, one Dazai rewards with a nod.
“I see~.” Perking up, he smiles while batting his lashes at Kunikida who freezes. “But Kunikida-kun would never eat lunch earlier than expected. He’s determined to stick to his beloved schedule after all. So, won’t he at least try my special Valentine’s chocolate I put so much effort into making?”
It’s a joke. Clearly, none of them would. All in all, they’re doing more than he expected them to in trying to spare his feelings when they normally don’t hesitate to speak their minds in regards to his behavior. Kunikida in particular is behaving rather weird. Instead of shooting his clear attempt at guilt tripping down he offers a grim scowl of resignation.
Yosano stands up straighter from where she’s standing against Ranpo’s desk, eyes going wide as Kunikida breaks off a clump of deformed chocolate from the bar.
“I’m just messing with you!” Dazai cuts in with a laugh, chest twinging at Kunikida’s willingness to subject himself to what he believes would be food poisoning for his sake even if Yosano could heal him in the worst-case scenario. “You’re far too gullible for your own good. Of course, I put something weird inside of it. You’ve got no sense of self-preservation.”
Kunikida drops the piece as if burnt, growling in his throat as his face flushes in anger. “I don’t want to hear that from someone like you, jackass!”
“At least I showed up to work today, right? That’s something at least. Kunikida-kun has no right to be mad when I made an effort to show up today.”
“Ohh…I’ll show you how mad I can get, Dazai!”
“Ahh, scary~!”
It should have been the end of it. The office would throw them away and Dazai wouldn’t have to put up with his feelings of unfound unease. Short on reaching him, Kunikida froze as Ranpo, who’d had been silent since receiving his gift with a frown spoke up.
“Chocolate is chocolate!”
Ranpo rips the warping of his own away, eyes inspecting the disfigured shaped lumps before shrugging and throwing one into his mouth. He ignores the disbelieving faces staring at him as if he’s gone mad as he chews noisily, the occasional crunching sound echoing across the office like a gun shot.
“…Ranpo-san?”
Atsushi inches closer, hand held out like he expects Ranpo to spit the chocolate back out like he’s done after tasting displeasing sweets and Kunikida is reaching for a handkerchief, anger at being almost tricked forgotten. But Ranpo swallows, licking his lips and swats the hand away.
“Are you alright?”
“No.”
“Yosano—” Kunikida says in alarm as the woman frowns, squinting at Ranpo while the office goes frantic as they begin to hover near the detective. Ranpo scowls, closing his box and waving it around like he would do with his finger while pointing out how stupid someone else is on a case and he wants to embarrass them.
“I’ve been waiting for the past four years for this. It’s unacceptable I’m only getting these once a year!”
The office falls silent.
“…What?”
“I knew they’d taste good, because there’s next to nothing Dazai’s bad at aside from the obvious and his attempts of convincing woman to do the impossible with him—”
Dazai lets his chair roll back as if he's been struck across the face. “Hey!”
Ranpo doesn’t bat an eye, speaking over the protest. “—but for some reason he’s taken for forever to cook something, lazy as he is and from now on, I’m expecting something every year, got it?”
Faltering in his smile for a moment Dazai nods vigorously while trying to pick it back up. “Only if I get a free from work card for White-Day.”
“Deal.”
“You didn’t put anything in there, did you?”
Yosano looks amused as she takes a bite of her own chocolate, offering him a smirk as he whistles and turns his chair around while reaching out to take out Kouyou’s gift. Kyouka’s eyes go wide when she catches sight of the familiar wrapping, no doubt having gotten a similar one herself but she doesn’t say anything as he takes a bite out of it.
“Not in yours, no.”
He might have put something veil into the one he sent to Ango. Nothing deadly just unpleasant. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t want the rest to go to waste.
“…right. I’m not going to ask.”
Dazai throws her a peace sign, letting the piece of chocolate melt on his tongue as he puts the rest back into his drawer. The taste used to make him gag, but seeing Atsushi hesitantly nibble on his own, eyes glowing and cheeks pink as he stares at his pile of chocolates resting on his desk, all he can taste is bitter sweetness.
Maybe a piece of chocolate once in a while isn’t so bad.