Slow Steps

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Death Mark/Shiin
Chapter Summary: Mashita just wants to be is helpful and instead continues to be tsundere.  Also, Yashiki is not allowed to become a hikikomori.
Word Count: 905
Rating: Gen
Spoiler Warning: name spoilers, ending spoilers
Mashita/Yashiki; could be read as one-sided (is not actually, but Yashiki needs an actual clue or several.)
Warning: mention and vague description of depression though Yashiki is doing a little better at the moment

         Mashita lets himself into the mansion.  As usual, it’s unlocked, which will definitely prompt another lecture from the detective.  Out of the way as it might be, Yashiki really needs to value his life more.  What’s slightly less usual is the rumpled older man sitting on the stairs with a modern phone of all things.  It looks very out of place in his hands, and he’s so out of it he doesn’t even notice Mashita approaching.  “What are you—Is that a gacha game?”
         Yashiki jumps, glancing up for a moment before averting his eyes.  Not that he’s embarrassed, by the subject matter, anyway.  It’s not the game or the fact that it’s akin to gambling or even the fact that he’s a rich bastard that could afford to waste thousands of dollars on it while Mashita’s still trying to piece together the money for his office and apartment.  Could, because he’ll probably never actually spend that money, because he’s a self-sacrificing fool that doesn’t think he deserves to spend any money or time on himself.  He’s only ashamed by the fact that he’s not working himself into a fever trying to solve the mystery of Mary, despite the fact that Mashita learned long ago simply working nonstop doesn’t work.  (Sometimes, occasionally, Satoru might have ignored that realization, but he’s never exactly claimed to be a role model.)
         The man could learn to be selfish, in the detective’s opinion, and it’s not even the prospect that he could maybe teach the fool to be selfish because he’s not that optimistic.  It’s not like Yashiki’s ever showed any interest.  “Moe said she needed another friend for something in the game.  She showed me how to sign up.”
         All right, well, it’s better than forcing the man into yet another situation where he’ll needlessly put his life at risk.  Moe’s brands of distraction have generally been the kind he’s disapproved of, so far.  He doesn’t voice any of that, though.  “Fits a creepy guy like you, I guess.  Don’t try to rope me into it, though.”
         Because he gets obsessive and doesn’t have enough money to spend as it is.  He could easily ask, and Kujou would pathetically trip over his own feet in his haste to help, and Mashita would choke to death on his own pride.  And because the detective would easily make a mess of himself trying to look after the man as it was, even if it was just trying to get together a gift in the game or whatever it is.  He’s pathetic, sometimes.  So is Yashiki, but he’s also helplessly oblivious.
         The light chuckle in response feels like it’s setting Mashita’s entire body on fire.  “Oh, I wouldn’t.  I know you’d never do it anyway.”  In the past, words like that would have been said…not looking for sympathy, not exactly, because he doesn’t tend to think he deserves it anyway, but in a resigned way.  It doesn’t help that Mashita has trouble saying how he really feels, and Yashiki has the worst self-confidence (and honestly probably depression) Mashita has ever seen.  He’s never heard Yashiki sound so…carefree before.  It’s a good look for him.  He should let go of his worries more often (well, aside from his utter lack of self-preservation or common sense; he needs to develop those as soon as possible so he can stop giving the detective heart attacks).  Mashita scowls to cover his own possible blush.  He probably doesn’t have to try so hard to hide his own feelings, given that telling him straight out might not even get it through that thick skull.  “In any event, do you have another case?  I assume there’s a reason you came.”
         “My fridge stopped working.  I’m using yours.”  Technically, he’s doing what he can to force Yashiki to actually eat, but the Kujou heir doesn’t need to know that.  “I needed a change of scenery from my office, anyway.  It’s not like you’re using the space.”
         “I—I suppose not.”  As always, Yashiki is caught off guard but takes the imposition in stride.  He shouldn’t, really, but he still has trouble telling anyone, living or dead, no.  “Do you need any help carrying in any food?  You’re welcome to take any of the rooms with desks in them—they might be a bit sparse, but—”
         Mashita snorts.  “I’ve helped search this mansion from top to bottom.  I wouldn’t forget what it’s like between then and now.”
         Yashiki rubs the back of his head.  “That’s true.”  It’s awkward, but it almost always is, between how they met and their various insecurities.  He’s used to it by now.
         “And don’t worry, I’ll drag you to carry everything I’m buying to replace what I had.”  He really doesn’t mean to be this harsh, but it’s better than just pulling the man in for a kiss.  No matter how much his hands at his sides itch to do so.
         That smile is small, but genuine, and it’s just as dangerous as the chuckle.  But at this point he’s not as angry about that.  At least Yashiki’s seeming a little better, between Moe’s inane distraction and his presence.  It’s really not good for him to be alone so much.  His feelings are unwanted, but no matter his efforts, he hasn’t managed to get rid of them, and Yashiki’s going to be taken care of by them all, whether he likes it or not.