Felt [BSD]

1 - The Voicemail

 WARNING: Contains language unsuitable for younger readers

-  Flashbacks and some thoughts/speech in italic, everything else in normal

[3 months ago - unknown location]

   Haruno wasn't sure if the blood that stained her hands was her own. She wasn't even sure if that was her name - Haruno. It felt like it should be. Then again, she felt as though the voice that slid from her chapped lips should be broken and squeaking with terror, but it flowed like cold silk over a open wound and snaked around the crowded room with near turgid animosity, and her knees that she knew should be trembling were steadfast in their stance.

   "Alright." She hissed, ignoring the discomfort the venom in her own voice made her feel. "One of you wastes of space better have some semblance of a clue as to what the fuck is going on around here, or I swear there are going to be more orphans on the street than there were the other night."

[Present day - Armed Detective Agency]

    Sundays were always boring to Dazai. Being stuck in a muggy office while everyone else celebrated the last of the weekend gnawed at the remaining strands of his sanity, and most of the population was always too happy to commit homicide and make his day just that tiny bit more interesting. On top of that, there were too many people picnicking under the trees and fishing in the river for him to end his laborious existence in peace, and so he was left with nothing more to do than dog-ear the pages of Kunikida's notebook and misplace Rampo's sweets. He sighed in defeat and spun his chair around a couple times, trying to keep up with the fans on the ceiling. The day had only just begun and already he was wishing for its end.

    "Good morning, Dazai!"

    The brown-haired man lurched in his seat slightly and his eyes widened a tad as he flailed his arms in shock. "Atsushi." He greeted breathlessly, surprised at his own ignorance of the boy's entry. "Good morning."

    The silvery-locked were-tiger gave him a small smile, clutching his papers for the day tightly to his chest. That smile quickly dropped, however as a loud 'thud' rattled through the office and Dazai's table gave a trembling shudder. The man in question gave a slight yelp and his gaze flew upwards, the beginning of a smirk forming on his face.

   "Oi, Dazai!" Kunikida yelled, glasses steaming up from the heat that radiated from his face. "How do you ever expect to get any work done when your desk is in such a state?"

   "Oh, but Kunikida..." The younger man gave a long whine, but Atsushi could tell from the glint in his eye he was anything but upset. "It's not like I'll do any work anyways~"

    There was an audible 'crack' as Dazai's head was forcefully shoved into the desk, and Atsushi gave a girlish shriek. Kunikida sighed and leant back, waving his notebook and tapping his foot with ill-contained frustration.

    "Are you ever going to- Oi, who's this?" Kunikida's gaze softened mid-rant and he snatched up a piece of paper that had fluttered into his line of sight after the disruption that was Dazai's face. Immediately, the unstable detective shot bolt-upright and tore the picture from the blonde's hand, but before he could crumple it into his pocket completely Atsushi thought he saw a flash of pink.

   "No-one." The brunette muttered quietly, and the two other detectives shared a look before walking away, side by side.

   "Oi, Kunikida, who-" Atsushi began quietly once they were out of ear-shot, but Kunikida shook his head gently.

   "Let's not." He responded, glancing over to the man he had spent so many wasted work hours fretting over. To his credit, he had begun lightly sifting through the papers on his desk, knocking them against the worktop to align them perfectly then arranging them in various different folders, although he was starting to expose a few unsightly coffee stains. Kunikida sighed, passing a hand over his face and trying to focus on the screen in front of him. Whatever was up with Dazai, it would sort itself out within a few days at most. It always did.

   "Oh! I found it!" An elated cry bounced its way through the office, and Kunikida slammed a fist on his desk. Was that man incapable of giving him even a moment's peace?

   "What, Dazai? What did you find?" He spat through gritted teeth, a familiar heat rising up his face and threatening to cloud his glasses once again.

   "Oh, I have a voicemail." 

   "Oi, are you even listening to me?" Kunikida yelled, his chair ramming into Atsushi's desk as he shot into a standing position, eliciting a small yelp. But no, Dazai wasn't listening, he was dialling the voicemail number into his newly-retrieved cell and holding it to his ear, seemingly unaware of Kunikida's thunderous approach. Just as the senior detective was about to snatch the object from his colleague's grasp however, he froze.

   Dazai had grown pale to the very lips. The phone slipped lifelessly from his bandaged hand and crashed to the floor, but the man failed to react. With trembling legs he dropped to his knees, wide eyes focused on something far away that only he could see.

   "Hey, Dazai! Dazai" Kunikida cried, shaking his shoulders, but not that nor the scattered scuffling of Atsushi rushing to his side had any effect on the man. Through the fog that clouded his mind they were inaudible; muffled, as though they were whispers from the other side of a wall of water. All that raced through Dazai's mind was the tinny, feminine voice that had chimed in his ear only moments before, over and over like a broken record.

    One new message, three months old:

    "Oi, Dazai. I think I fuzzed up."

Uhh help

Criticism welcome. So is hate because let's be real I need a wake up call.

I hope you enjoy reading this story :)