Chapter Text
“Actually,” Dazai says, “I've been quite fond of her for some time now.”
It is the love potion talking but you’re the only one who knows that. Arthur's anger holds you fast to his chest, holding you away from Dazai who, only a moment ago, had held you instead.
Only you can explain to Arthur why, exactly, Dazai had you pressed up against the wall with his lips a breath away from yours. It’s all on you to be the rational one here in the face of Arthur’s anger.
First things first: Dazai needs to stop talking.
“Dazai! Listen to me, I—”
But the one forced into silence is you. Arthur’s large hand clamps over your mouth and you flinch in surprise. Whereas Dazai had held you tight to the spot, Arthur's hold is a gag, and it strangles your voice so that he alone can speak.
“Oh, really?” Arthur says to Dazai. "You've taken a fancy to her, have you?"
“Yes, that's right.” Such a casual reply makes your body seize up. You grip Arthur's wrist and tug at his hand to move, but he refuses to budge, he refuses to listen. He’s angry and he’s always disliked Dazai anyway. “I've been thinking about stealing her away from you.”
Dazai isn't in his right mind, you plead with your eyes, looking up at Arthur from the cage of his arms, but he has no eyes for you.
“Well, I'm terribly sorry.” There is no hint of regret in his voice, but he does remove his hand from your mouth.
You recollect yourself on a single breath, open your mouth to try again, but you don’t get that far. Arthur cradles your cheek and tilts your chin up towards him.
The sudden shift catches you off guard. There is irritation in his eyes and nothing sweet in his touch. “What?”
“I'm going to prove to him that you're mine,” Arthur says with a lilt of dry amusement. Your eyes widen as he leans in with a kiss ready on his lips.
The kiss on your lips is not one you are willing to let him take, not here in the open hallway, not here when he is angry, but Arthur never asks for permission and he won't ask for it now with Dazai watching, with Dazai professing—
(“I've been thinking about stealing her away from you.”)
You've never thought about being stolen away before.
You wonder at what point you accepted that you did not have a say in these things. A clamp over your mouth demands your submission. The kiss Arthur means to give you now speaks not of love but of a brand to mark you.
Arthur freezes before his lips touch yours and you wonder, you hope, it’s because you had not leaned in to meet him, that he realized this was wrong.
But from down the hall, a voice calls out. “Looks like you were too late.”
Sebastian!
Arthur leans back with a disgruntled look and drops his hand from your cheek. “...Now it's Sebas, come to interrupt me?”
“Late for what?” Dazai asks, his smile gone. A smile lost from seeing Arthur about to kiss you.
The consideration startles you. Why would you care if Dazai stopped smiling because of that? It is the love potion that makes him feel for you and nothing more.
Nothing more…
Sebastian speed walks – running in the halls is forbidden, a rule of Sebastian’s own making – with a bottle of Blanc held in each hand. He looks more than a little exasperated. “There was a mistake with our Blanc supplier and this batch has been tainted with an aphrodisiac. Monsieur le Comte has instructed me to confiscate all remaining bottles and send them back immediately.”
You take a deep breath and the tension in your body ebbs. Now they both know the truth. Dazai is certainly in a predicament but at least Arthur had not taken a sip. Arthur is bad enough as it is without a love potion, you laugh to yourself in relief, trying to relax in the knowledge that the disaster you feared has been averted.
But Arthur stares on at Sebastian in surprise, however, and you feel the blood drain from your face. “…Wait just a minute. Sebas,” Arthur carries on slowly. “It’s been tainted with what?” There is curiosity in his eyes now, more than just understanding, and you realize you’d really rather he didn’t know an aphrodisiac is in the house.
Although how else would you have explained why he caught Dazai looming over you against a wall?
(“Actually, I've been quite fond of her for some time now.”)
Oh, what a mess!
“An aphrodisiac,” Sebastian repeats dutifully. “A love potion, as it were. Anyone who drinks it will have strong sexual urges for the next person they see.”
You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, feeling the pressure of Dazai’s gaze now that the pressure of Arthur’s anger has abated. The sound of Dazai’s voice in your ear a minute ago still spurs your pulse to race. The way he had held you tight, the way he looked at you—
(Dazai’s smile softens but his hair falls across his face, casting a dark shadow upon it. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. It's just... I feel different today.”)
Although he had startled you, you do not feel afraid.
“These strong feelings of desire,” Sebastian continues, “will only grow and not be sated until they spend time alone with the target of their affection.”
Spend time alone with him, huh… A pleasant thought under normal circumstances. With the weather turning colder and a heavy snowfall due any day, the pleasure of sitting outside in the garden with him and a good book have dwindled down to none. He would tease you some but there was always more reading than talking, and so you took a fancy to spying the serene face he makes while he drinks in each page.
(Although you won’t miss the summer days when he leaves the windows open and every bug in Paris takes advantage of his hospitality.)
You like him, but you don’t know him as well as you know some of the others. He acts a clown when he thinks someone is watching and there is no book for him to hold.
The tainted Blanc has stripped him down of that veneer. You can see it in his eyes.
Displeasure coats Arthur’s viperous tongue. “Ah, so that’s why Dazai’s been acting like a randy old goat!”
“I’m acting quite normally, thank you,” Dazai retorts in a sing-song voice.
He sounds normal enough but Arthur’s right about one thing, you think. Dazai scoops up a handful of your hair and let the strands slip gently through his fingers. Long, careful fingers with ink-stained tips. A writer’s strong, supple hand.
No, not a writer’s. Arthur had never touched your hair so lightly, so reverently.
You ought to step away.
(“She belongs to ME,” Arthur had snapped, and as his girlfriend you mustn’t let anyone else touch you. Or steal you away.)
But Dazai’s face is brimming with a bright, innocuous smile with the corners of his eyes crinkling. And it is in those bottomless golden eyes you find yourself rooted to the spot. The fierce desire held at bay as he touches you so carefully, barely touching you at all—
“Hands off, I said!” Arthur smacks Dazai’s hand away and you flinch back from a swipe an inch from your face. “See?” Arthur accuses with a deep sigh, “He’s acting even more bizarre than usual, Sebas.”
“According to the letter, the effects will wear off in about an hour.” Sebastian is nothing but business. Perhaps, you consider, he fancies the display of Arthur and Dazai at odds. “However, if the desire isn’t fulfilled, you’ll experience side effects of extreme thirst.”
If the desire isn’t—
Standing close enough to touch, Dazai at least doesn’t look to be in pain right now. His skin does appear more flushed than usual. Your eyes trail down his neck to follow a bead of sweat. Truth be told, you can’t recall him ever showing pain. All he’s ever given you were simple smiles or a laugh drawn up at his own expense.
Have you seen him thirsty before? For Blanc, for Rouge, for—
(“I want you so badly I can't stand it.”)
Your heart skips a beat. He hadn’t hurt you. He hadn’t frightened you. The thought of him biting you hadn’t even crossed your mind as your face grows warmer.
(He doesn’t seem the type to bite in haste. He would find a careful spot. He’d ask for permission first, you decide, and he would take your wrist, perhaps, so you could see his fangs sink in and so that he could watch you, too, and write about it later—)
All he took was a lock of your hair which he let drift through his fingers. And in that touch you felt something fragile tremble.
In that touch you felt…
Loved.
Of course you would. It is a love potion, is it not? You glance at Dazai, and he must have found something inviting in your eyes for he boldly takes your hand and pulls you toward him.
“In that case,” Dazai says, “the only solution is for Chiyoko here and I to spend some quality time together while I satisfy my desires.”
“W-What?!” A fool you must be to fall for the sweet touch of a love potion! You’ve been with Arthur for how many months now? It’s never been about love. A sip of the love potion and Dazai fell in love with the first person he saw. It could have been anyone just as, after all these months with Arthur, he could have anyone else. Certainty he does have someone else in your absence. You’ve seen the blood stains on his collar. His thirst is ravenous and he will drown you with him to stifle his nightmares.
(At what point did you begin to beg for the pleasure of his bite when it was his teeth that first frightened you the most? They frighten you still, but not as much as his hands which hold you down and the deep vibration in his voice as he murmurs that he’s only giving you what your body is so clearly asking for.)
“Are you daft?” Arthur’s large hand grabs your free one without warning, and you wince as he tries to tug you back. He glares sharply at Dazai, who does not let you go. “You really think I’d just stand here and let you take her away with you?”
You open your mouth to tell Arthur to stop it. There is a solution to this problem and it involves the four of you sitting around playing card games while you harmlessly continue to hold Dazai’s hand. His hand holds firm but it is warm and gentle, with his fingers threading with yours—
But Arthur has already turned to Sebastian again. “Is that the tainted Blanc, Sebas?”
“Yes, it— Sir Arthur!!”
The bottle is already snatched from Sebastian’s hand at the single confirmation. Arthur bites the cork off with his teeth and spits it out onto the floor.
And when you realize what he’s about to do, it’s too late. With both your hands taken, there is no chance at wrestling that terrible bottle away from him. He tips it back and all you can do is stand there, dread curdling in your stomach, and watch his Adam Apple bob as he takes gulp after gulp.
“A-Arthur!!”
The bottle is half-empty by the time he finally pulls it away from his mouth. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand.
Arthur has drunk the love potion.
“There,” he announces proudly. “Now I drank it, too.” His smile is confident as he turns to look at you. A look too bold for someone who has consumed a love potion.
Arthur under the influence of a love potion…
“…All you have to worry your pretty little head about now is satisfying ME.” His eyes burn into yours before sweeping you head to foot, taking you all in and stripping you bare in their wake.
You tremble, but not from lust. A hand in yours gives yours a squeeze, and it’s not Arthur’s. “W-why did you do that?!”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sebastian rub his temple. “…I feel a headache coming on.”
Dazai’s voice no longer has a song in it. His skin is flushed, his forehead damp, but his tone remains soft and even while his breath begins to fray. “I’m surprised, Arty. I didn’t know you were such a sore loser. You drank it so you wouldn’t have to let Kazuko be alone with me, didn’t you?”
A sore loser is true, but the true loser here is you.
“Perhaps I just wanted to spice things up with her,” Arthur says with a bold smile that makes you shrink back. “Try something new, you know?”
Your hand feels fragile caught in his.
“Ah, not to say I’m bored with our usual activities in the bedroom, of course.”
Of course he wouldn’t, because he’s the one who chooses those activities.
You have to stop this, stop him.
“Arthur!! Listen, you two-” you interject loudly, stomping your foot— “You both need to calm down!”
But the one who isn’t calm now is you. Your composure slips away on every harried breath. All three men turn to look at you and the first time you gain all of their attention.
“You’ll choose me of course, dear?” Arthur says as if there was no other choice.
But on your other side, there is Dazai. “You won’t regret it if you choose me.”
Won’t you!?
The person you don’t pick will suffer symptoms of extreme thirst. It’s torture to a vampire.
Dazai’s easy smile is gone and his brow has furrowed. The pain Sebastian warned you of is already sinking in with each soft pant Dazai tries to mask. He reaches up to his kimono and loosens the neck, trying to make it easier to breath.
And despite the mess you’re in, it hurts you to see him in pain.
(“I didn’t mean to frighten you. It's just... I feel different today.”)
This isn’t his fault.
You bite your lip and turn away from him. Despite the hold he has on you, he lets you go when you pull your hand from his.
And you snatch the bottle of Blanc from Arthur.
“How could you, Arthur?” you demand. “Sebastian just told you Dazai will be in a lot of pain without me!” Your cradle the bottle against your chest lest he try to steal it back and drink the rest of it.
“Why are you so worried about him?” Arthur has the daring to look startled for a beat, but then he laughs. “He can take care of himself.”
Your wrench your hand from Arthur’s grip and stand your ground alone. “So can you.”
With your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you are almost satisfied to see him looking nearly apologetic for once. But it’s too late for that.
(I feel different today too, you think.)
“Don’t be like that. I was just joking! It’s only for an hour. He’ll be fine. Won’t you, old chap?”
There is already fire burning in Arthur’s eyes as he reaches out to take you back into his arms. The tainted Blanc is already working.
You don’t hesitate to take a step back.
And you bump into Dazai. His hand goes to your waist but he asks nothing of you even while his hold is firm. You feel steadied rather than held down. When he breathes you in, he breathes you out, and takes nothing for his own.
“It’s not just for an hour,” you tell Arthur. Your heart is in your throat as you reach behind your back. A quiet gasp interrupts Dazai’s pants as you take his hand in a solid grip.
Dazai’s nose presses against your hair as he leans into you.
Please wait, you beg him.
(“You won’t regret it if you choose me.”)
Please be true, you plead.
“It’s not?” Arthur asks. Your heart threatens to break at his blatant confusion and the worry on his face. He writes for one of the world’s greatest detectives and yet he did not see this coming. The only words he ever wanted to hear were in pursuit of his own story, not yours. “But Sebastian said—”
Maybe the two of you could have sat and talked this out better. Maybe the two of you could have tried harder to make this work. But Arthur enjoyed winning all the games he played and he enjoyed taking what he wanted. What made you think he would put himself second now when it’s always been about him since the very beginning?
“You drank that love potion on your own knowing what would happen, and you can enjoy the effects of it on your own as well. I’m not choosing you, Arthur. Not now and… and not ever again.” You swallow thickly, your mouth dry. “I’ll go with Dazai.”
“You’ll stay with me?” Dazai’s surprise is evident in his voice and, in a delirious moment, the sound of his voice makes you happy with relief.
Arthur’s expression darkens. The look of his lust tainted with anger is a awful sight. “I won’t let you go,” he tells you.
Later you’ll explain why it’s come to this more clearly, but this is the moment where it ends even if he’s not in the right mind to understand.
“I’m sorry, Arthur. But… that’s not up to you anymore.”
It should never have been up to him to begin with.
“You're the type of person who can't abandon someone in trouble. Am I right?” Arthur forces a smile with his palms held up in invitation for you to come to him. “You won’t leave me like this.”
It is a punch to the gut and leaves you winded. The kindness you had shown him out of love now perverted on his tongue, in his eyes, the same way he had perverted your trust in him when he found you reading in his room that terrible day.
It’s only the warmth of Dazai’s hand that reminds you: yes, you can’t abandon someone in trouble.
And right now that person isn’t Arthur.
It’s you.
“Good bye, Arthur.”