Care

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The day clicked by, most of it seemed to be spent in peace. Though, the cries of a child tended to spring out here and there. Each time the brunette sprung to his feet with grumbles. The agency members took surprise into their eyes each time he stood up to take care of the small child. With the last glimmering shreds of daylight, Dazai stretched his arms, pressing his palms to his eyes with a hum. The light would fade within half an hour, Dazai's signal to leave Kunikida with closing up for the night.

Dazai picked the child up into his arms, his hands carrying them softly with his grip. "You're holding them wrong." Dazai turned to see Yosano with her bag slung over her shoulders.

Carefully setting down the bag, no doubt full of medical supplies, she walked over to the male. Yosano took them from his arms to show him how to properly hold a child this size. "You have to support them from underneath as well. If you're going to hold them to your shoulder so closely, you can simply carry them by the waist. Otherwise, they'll fall to the ground and get hurt." Dazai nodded his head, holding out his arms to take the small child in his arms again. Carefully, he copied what he had observed. "Dazai, if you need any help with this, either Kunikida or I will be there, especially if you go through an... episode." Dazai smiled, trying his best to reassure Yosano that everything was alright.

The skies, beginning to dip away from the vibrant reds and oranges, settling into the depth of the night sky seemed heavy. The clouds that had begun rolling in laid darker, leaving a sense of weight and a smell of sorrow through the air. "Ah, look, it appears it may rain today." Dazai chuckled, looking at the little one hidden inside his coat. The coat his friend had given him, a coat he'd never part with. "It was a day like this when I found you... Ah, but you don't remember that in your tiny baby brain." Dazai leaned his head down simply to nuzzle his nose in their hair. "Let us hurry so we don't get caught in the storm." With that, Dazai's pace picked up, the child laying their head on his shoulder with a giggle.

Now, the apartment they ended up at wasn't Dazai's. It belonged to Y/n, in a reserved part of the city. Dazai wouldn't call it a penthouse, it was nowhere near the extravagant glimmers as Chuuya's residence. Their home was located on the top floor, taking up close to 2 thirds, but only a single floor, unlike Chuuya's two floors. They didn't decorate nearly as extravagantly either, keeping things to a lower extremity. Though it still shouted they had money to spare. Dazai shifted the child in his arms to unlock the door and slide in. He would change the lock or find a spare key until this was all over. Setting the tiny human on the couch, he began to look around.

The last time he'd set foot in here had been the day he defected. That would make it four years since he saw the place. While things looked almost like they had in the past, he noticed the silver and gold marbleized counters he'd been a fan of were gone, replaced with black and silver. The cabinets didn't look too different, still the same oddly bleached wood he'd never liked. The flooring was tiled now, no longer sitting as plain wood. They even switched out the carpets he'd loved to lay on when he didn't want to head to work.

The child was most likely playing with the toys provided for them, so Dazai continued to explore the halls. Each picture that had once hung had gone missing. The only pictures that remained hanging were pictures of themself or a photo taken with Chuuya. There were very few pictures from back then, years had seemingly disappeared from the series of portraits. His hand reached out to trace the walls, fingers gliding over newly painted colors until he reached the spare room. His hand reached to the knob, turning it, though it chatted and clung, the handle never twisted enough to open. Dazai frowned, taking out his trust pin from within his pocket. He went to place it within the keyhole, but found no space. "Oh? So you've thought that far ahead?" Dazai ran his hand through his hair.

It took him a few minutes to detach the metal from the delicate wood. His fingers carefully worked to take apart the pieces until he could swing the door open. His hand flipped on the light, taken aback by the accumulated dust. His lips pulled a chuckle as he stared at the room. No doubt in the same condition since he'd left it. Only now the guest room appeared much gloomier than he remembered. Walking to the closet, he chuckled again, seeing they had never gotten rid of anything. The rugs, pictures, even the countertops were all neatly placed within the confines of the closet. They had only locked everything away, tucked neatly into the past, left to gather dust and be forgotten. In a way that was worse than burning or selling the objects. He walked around the room for a bit longer looking for a specific picture.

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