Everything or Nothing

The Interview

He wishes the next day was another quiet one, one where they could spend the day together and pretend the rest of the world just doesn't exist, but it's like his Dad said.

They have a relatively short window before Chuuya starts declining—and he is on an upward track right now, he gets stronger every day—so, they have to deal with the magazine interview.

Which, as Ranpo explains to them over breakfast, is a little more involved than he originally explained.

"First things first," the detective garbles through a mouthful of bacon—which he did not ask if he could have before snatching it off of Dazai's plate, by the way— "Because if smiling and waving was too damn complicated for you, I want to make this really fucking clear before I let the redhead in front of any cameras—"

Chuuya blinks owlishly, glancing up from where he's been poking around at his eggs. "I thought it was just an interview?"

Ranpo makes a face and waves that off. "The magazine primarily does fashion shoots, you'll be doing a five-page spread, maybe a bifold, if they like the shots enough." He reaches for another piece of Dazai's bacon, only to get swatted away. He yanks his hand back with an affronted little glare, and he sighs. "The point is, we need to address..." he slowly looks Chuuya up and down. "That."

Chuuya and Dazai react at the same time, but very differently. For Chuuya it's just a quiet nod, because he's assuming it's about how pale and haggard he looks—even if he's way better than he was two days ago—but Dazai's voice is taking on a warning tone when he speaks.

"What are you talking about, exactly?" He asks flatly, and Ranpo throws his hands up, like it's the obvious elephant in the room.

"Your boyfriend's fashion sense."

Now Chuuya is a little offended. "Aren't they gonna dress me anyway?! And what's wrong with what I wear?!"

Ranpo glances down at what Chuuya is currently wearing—pastel pink overalls, legs rolled up to mid-calf, along with a black 'Thrasher' t-shirt (stolen from Dazai, because Chuuya likes that band more) and a beat up, paint splattered set of Adidas sneakers. "I don't know how you managed to completely miss the point of my job, but it's to make you blend in. Not draw attention."

Chuuya glares pointedly at Ranpo's leopard print shirt, unbuttoned halfway to reveal stacked golden necklaces glittering against his chest. "I can draw as much attention as I want, I'm not the story," he turns his head to Dazai, "and I do draw lots of attention, you can check my Grindr—"

"Why does that matter?" Dazai groans, drawing a sly smile from Ranpo.

"It doesn't, I just like working it in when I can. Anyway, my point is—" he jabs a finger in Chuuya's face, "Go put on something not noticeable."

The redhead frowns, his fork halfway to his mouth. "Like—right now?"

Ranpo rolls his eyes. "No. Next week. Yes, right now!"

Chuuya sulks, dropping his fork with a slightly childish clatter. "Fine, but you don't have to be so rude about it."

"Rude?" Ranpo raises an eyebrow, looking affronted. "It's my job."

"I would've just said you were being a bitch," Dazai counters airily, reaching back to grab Chuuya's hand gently as the redhead steps behind his chair, tilting his head back to look at his boyfriend, "You know you don't actually have to change, right?"

Chuuya's eyes flicker from Dazai to Ranpo, and while he knows that Ranpo technically works for Dazai's family, and by extension, Dazai—it doesn't feel super optional.