you can take my Soul, but never my Heart (omegaverse)

Chapter 12: newton's law

Dazai still hasn’t gotten replacement keys for more than his freshly changed dorm lock, but the agency building is unlocked when he arrives, as is the door to the office. At first glance, it’s empty, but he finds Kyouyou on the couch behind one of the dividers, reading one of Ranpo’s detective novels by the light of the window. There’s a cup of tea that’s gone cold on the table in front of her, and when she realizes she’s not alone, she doesn’t even look up, gesturing tiredly with the hand not holding the book open.

“It’s too early to drink, boy. Have a cup of tea and sit.”

This, too, is familiar.

He laughs softly, placing the paper bagged bottle on the low table between them and sinking into the opposite couch with a sigh. He lets the anxiety ebb out of him as he melts into the cushions, taking up damn near all of the space with the way he sprawls out. They sit in that companionable silence for a few minutes before Kyouyou dog-ears a page (Ranpo is going to be pissed at the bend; he never re-reads his books, but he does like to keep them in prime condition) and places it down on the table, electing to lift her plainly decorated teacup from the neighboring porcelain shop to her painted lips instead.

“I told Ougai not to spare the energy to look for me; that I had made a deal and would be back of my own accord soon enough.”

He makes a neutral noise in his throat as he watches her sip her tea, licking his dry lips as he reaches for the bag. The bottle feels heavy in his hand as he cradles it, picking up the spoon Kyouyou had been using to stir her tea. He wedges it against the wax seal, prodding it open and popping out the cork within with much more expertise than a man his age should have. The cork and the spoon go back to the table as Kyouyou raises a manicured brow to watch him throw back a mouthful straight from the neck.

He hisses as he puts the bottle back down, wincing at the strength. It tastes like straight fire after four years with nothing stronger than wine, but it’s a familiar sort of burn. Uninhibited and free from the melt of ice, room temperature and raw. He has a feeling his tolerance has gone down, considering he went from drinking daily to stone cold sober so quickly, and he wonders how fast he can get drunk now.

The silence lasts for two beats of his alcohol-warmed heart until Kyouyou places her tea down and offers him a knowing smile.

“The light isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”

Humorlessly, he laughs. “Both sides are the same. The only difference is how much blood I get on my hands.”

“At this point, with hands as red as yours, does that even matter?”

He sighs, melting back into the couch so he doesn’t just grab the damn bottle again. “No.”

“Then why bother?”

“Because someone told me to come to this side.”

Her lips quirk into a sideways smile. Her makeup is still hanging on, somehow. Dazai wonders what she looks like without it. Perhaps her mask is more resilient than his own. “They must have been special. You never were one to listen to orders."

He doesn’t want to talk about this right now. He doesn’t want to talk about Oda. He doesn't want to think about the feel of bloodied lips cooling against his own. “Did you know about the plans to let Q out?” It's a better subject. He wants to know, anyway.

Irritation twitches in her cheek as she fights to keep her smile. “I did. We discussed it at the gathering after you delivered your little love letter.”

“Why?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. Ougai can see things further ahead than I ever have. The Guild is trying to create chaos, and so perhaps he thinks fighting it with more chaos is the answer.”