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1
Dazai and Chuuya were partners. Double Black. Soukoku. An unstoppable duo.
That’s how other people would describe them.
In truth, they both were nothing more than children tossed into a dogfight and having to learn the rules to survive. They relied on each other, a constant push-and-pull. Two flames refusing to relent to the other, only blazing higher in their constant war to gain the upper hand.
They just returned to their joint apartment, bodies bloodied and bruised from their recent mission. It had gone awry; new variables popped up that no one could have predicted.
“Bastard,” Chuuya spat, instantly abandoning the limping Dazai who had been using him for support. He made for the kitchen sink, washing the blood off his arms and wincing as the cool blast of water beat against his sore flesh. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one between us?”
This entire mission was based purely on Dazai’s plan. It was high risk, high reward. They just rolled the dice poorly. “Ugh, like you did any better…” He hovered in the doorway, having to build up the confidence to put weight on his left leg. In a squabble, it did make an awfully sickening snap.
The sound of running water stopped. There was a shuffle in the kitchen, hidden behind a wall. Chuuya stormed around the corner, resuming their previous position with Dazai’s arm slung around his neck and Chuuya’s arm wrapped around his waist. “Hurry up. You know what will happen if we’re seen.”
Dazai felt his blood go cold, grimly nodding as he leaned his weight against Chuuya. Nothing more than was necessary. The bruises littering Chuuya’s body looked quite nasty; he was sure he was pressing uncomfortably against quite a few of them.
But all Chuuya did was grit his teeth, close the door behind them, and force him to the bathroom. “Strip.”
Usually, Dazai would make some sort of joke. But the grave tone that word was spoken with forced his mouth shut, unable to resist the command. Slowly, with a slew of quiet noises of pain, he stripped layer after layer of clothing and bandages until he was fully exposed. Physically and emotionally.
“ Fuck , Dazai.” Chuuya’s light grey eyes widened, face paling. He reached out, fingers just barely ghosting over Dazai’s abdomen. Alarm immediately flared, taking considerable effort on Dazai’s part to not crumble in agony. “That’s really bad.”
Even with the lightest touch, blood gushed out from two bullet wounds at an alarming rate. Chuuya pulled back as if it was he who felt the flare of agony rip through them. “Here,” he kneeled by the tub, fussing with the knobs until steam came from the stream, “sit in the tub. Fuck, I need to clean that… Watch your leg.”
Dazai took his warning to heart, making sure to not apply a single drop of pressure on the broken leg. The incident happened towards the beginning of the scuffle; adrenaline had been the only thing keeping him upright. He groaned, unable to stop the tears that slipped from his eyes when his body contorted to fit into their just-barely-too-small tub. As soon as he dipped his entire body into the tub, the previously clear water swam pink around him.
Chuuya shuffled around the bathroom’s cabinets, pulling out medical supplies that were scattered around. “We need to organise this…” It was an idle comment, but spoke far louder than just the words. It was a warn that either of them could be fatally injured next time, where every second was the breaking point between life and death.
Dazai, intelligently so, commented, “You’re injured too.”
Chuuya gathered all the medical supplies, setting them up haphazardly next to the tub. “Not as bad as you. I…” He hesitated, worrying his bottom lip. “Shit, Dazai. I think we have to go to Boss–”
“No.” Dazai spoke instinctually, nails digging into his palms until crescent marks were pressed into them. “No. Never.”
Chuuya looked at him, an emotion resembling pity clouding his eyes. “... I-I’m not a doctor. Dazai, this is a serious injury… It’s even worse than I thought. How did you manage to fight in this state?”
“ Chuuya .” The ginger instantly perked up, Dazai calling him by his name few and far between. His existence was always used as a taunt for the other. “Please… You can leave. I can do it myself. Just… please…..”
“Hey, hey. Keep your eyes open.” Chuuya pressed his fingers bruisingly into Dazai’s chin, forcing the other from out of their slipping. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine.” He said it more for himself. They both knew that. “I’ll… I’ll figure it out. So just keep that stupid mouth of yours running, okay?”
Dazai stared at him with hazy eyes, struggling to focus. Black swirled the edges of his vision, tendrils curling in closer and closer. He was teetering on a tightrope of consciousness, one wrong move being fatal. “... you have a cut on your neck.”
“Uh huh. I didn’t see the knife.” Chuuya had been too distracted trying to find Dazai in the neverending swarm of enemies to notice the threat. “I need the bullet wounds to be above water.”
The thought of moving sent a flesh wave of concern through Dazai. He hesitated for a moment, slowly pushing himself onto the lip of the tub with a gumble of curses pushed from his lungs. The trust they held for each other was unbreakable, after all. Able to overcome even the most primitive instincts humans held.
“Sorry.” Chuuya whispered out, honest confession hanging in the air. It was an apology that transcended what just occurred; an apology for it being allowed to happen in the first place.
“Not your fault.” Dazai leaned the back of his head against the cool tile wall, clamping his teeth together tightly when Chuuya started to work.
“Steady breathes. Yes, that’s it.” It was clear his hands were shaking as he cleaned the freshly spilling blood from the wound. The bath water had done its job of clearing the area quite a bit. Chuuya could see what he was working with now.
It wasn’t as bad as he had thought. The dried and overflow of blood had painted the scene as an absolute bloodbath. “I have to clean it out so it doesn’t get infected. Uh, I couldn’t find any Oxydol but I found this?”
Dazai peeked down at the bottle Chuuya was holding. It was a fairly small, clear bottle with a white cap. There was a blue sticker label on the front, foreign letters written on it with bright, white letters. He had a foreboding feeling all of a sudden. “What is it…?”
Chuuya shrugged, giving it an equally suspicious look. “I think Kouyou gave it to me a while ago? It was next to where the Oxydol would be… so…”
“...” Dazai stared at him incredulously.
Chuuya shrugged again, looking noticeably nervous. “Just clench your teeth or something…” He lifted the bottle, tipping it slightly before hesitating. They were both only 16. They shouldn’t be having to deal with things like this. They shouldn’t be having to pull each other from the brink of death after being forced to it.
They should be going out, their only battles being pixels flashing on screens. The only broken bones they should have being the result of messing around, able to laugh and mock each other after a moment of panic. They should be able to have someone to turn to for help. Someone other than only each other.
Chuuya felt a sudden pang of jealousy.
He tipped the bottle fully, watching the fluid flood out and hit the wound. At first touch, Dazai’s head slammed back forcefully, silent scream being ripped from him. His hand shot to his mouth, trying to muffle the sobs that spilled out uncontrollably.
Chuuya pulled back as if burned, watching Dazai’s face twist into a contorted expression of pure agony. Transfixed, he stared for a solid few seconds, only reacting after his brain slowly chugged into action.
Nonsensical apologies came from him as he panickedly shifted through the medical supplies. He squirted a random antibiotic cream onto his fingers, circling around the wounds as if the other would break from the slightest pressure. Perhaps he would, given how glazed over his eyes were and the thick streams of tears cascading down his face.
“I’m almost done. Just bear with it a bit longer.” Dazai gave no indication he heard him, eyes staring past what could be seen. Chuuya had only seen him like this once before, a few months into their partnership. A week after they began living together.
He still feels his stomach drop in dread whenever he comes back to the apartment and sees the bathroom light on.
“I’m going to put a bandage on now… then I have to fix your leg.” Chuuya wasn’t sure if it was a stroke of luck that the other injuries weren’t too bad. There were a few cuts and bruises here and there, but they didn’t require any medical attention. He thinks. His medical expertise left a lot to be desired.
There wasn’t a point in announcing what he was going to do. Dazai was out of it, pain dragging him out of his body. It felt wrong to do things without proper warning, though.
He wrapped the bandage around Dazai’s waist, forcing his movements to be as steady as possible. It was a very careful balance between ensuring the bandages were tight enough without being too tight; getting them to apply enough pressure without causing further injury. “Okay… is that good enough?”
Silence.
“... I’ll start working on your leg.” Chuuya pulled back, wincing at the flare of protest his muscles gave him. He was suddenly very, very aware of every wound painting his own body now that the adrenaline was beginning to wane. He took a deep breath, trying to push the pain to the back of his mind.
“What… the fuck was that…” Dazai muttered, words slurring together. Chuuya hadn’t noticed he’d come back.
Guilt prickled Chuuya’s flesh, fingers brushing against the broken leg with the care of touching cracked porcelain. “It’ll help. Probably. How do the bandages feel?”
Dazai remained silent for a while, watching the contemplation cross Chuuya’s face. Trying to figure out the most painless way to solve the break, he assumed. “Fine.” He paused a moment. “You have to break it into place.”
“What?”
Dazai’s head was feeling oddly clear, pain all but disappearing in the span of the last few seconds. One of the only reasons he’s been able to survive in the Port Mafia for this long. “C’mon, I know you can break bones quite well.” Tease melted into his tone, voided eyes gaining the slightest spark of amusement. “Just put it back into place, splint it up, easy peasy lemon squeezy, hm?”
“... I’m sorry.” Chuuya cringed as he moved, bracing himself in preparation. Closing his eyes, he counted down from three in a hushed whisper. At one, he moved, a crunch echoing off the bathroom walls.
Dazai barely reacted, hand tightening a bit the only show it was registered. “We don’t have a splint.” Chuuya pulled back, looking fairly ill and shaking slightly. Dazai didn’t understand why. The ginger was no stranger to violence; surely breaking a bone barely breached the surface of what he’s seen and done. “Would bandages work?”
The brunet hummed thoughtfully, tilt of a frown playing at his lips. “Not… really. But it is what it is. Do we have any tape?”
“... washi tape?” Chuuya gained a sudden passion for journaling, insisting the decorative tape was a necessary purchase. He journaled for a whole of two days before losing interest. “There’s dogs on them.”
“Nevermind. Just… just the bandages.” Dazai cringed, eyes darkening for a moment.
Chuuya nodded, wrapping his entire lower leg with a slow pace. Eyes constantly flicking upwards for reassurance that it was fine, nerves settled when Dazai nodded to every look. “There. How’re you feeling?”
“Like shit.” Dazai admitted honestly, too exhausted to keep up his playful act. “You?”
Chuuya chuckled, pulling the tub drain and watching the light pink water slip away steadily. Luckily, the apartment came with impressive plumbing. He tossed the pile of dropped clothes at Dazai, having enough courtesy to turn around while the other struggled into the wear. “Better than you, that’s for sure. Need help getting up?”
Dazai nodded after a moment of hesitation, swallowing the creeping of danger haunting his mind. He knew Chuuya wouldn’t purposefully hurt him, not when he was so vulnerable. But years of solitude infested his head, a constant reminder that the only person he could trust was himself.
“Okay. Slow and steady.” There was a bit of warning, almost as if the other could sense the thoughts plaguing Dazai’s mind. A constant bounce between pulling Chuuya closer and pushing him away. A dance between protecting himself and wanting so desperately to rely on someone else for once.
“There we are. Easy does it…” Chuuya took all his weight, seeming barely phased. He was more bothered by Dazai’s light weight than it pressing uncomfortably against his own wounds.
In silence, the pair made their way to Chuuya’s room. Dazai blinked, face contorting into confusion. “Did you really think I would leave you alone when you’re on the brink of death?” There was almost offense from Chuuya.
A pang shot through Dazai’s heart, festering. It was warm, so safe. It was uncomfortable. He didn’t know what it was. “... Is this an excuse to get me in your bed, Chibi?”
“You wish.” Chuuya huffed, matching Dazai’s playful energy as they made their way over.
“Oh my, so forward.” Chuuya gingerly set Dazai down, trying to keep his pain to a minimum. “You could’ve just asked me~”
He was answered with a huff. In truth, Chuuya didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t a lie that he did want the other close to him, have someone near him for when the nightmares got too much. To have the warmth of another human next to him, able to reassure him with calming words instead of the blank stares he got from his plushies.
The two shifted on the futon, fussing at each other until they managed to get comfortable. There was a lovely minute of silence before the brunet had to open his mouth.
“You didn’t have to do all that.”
“You’re right.” Chuuya agreed, already having an idea how this would end. “But I wanted to.”
“Why? It would’ve been easier to just hand me over to…” He trailed off, face unreadable in the dark.
“It would’ve been easier.” Dazai winced, about to respond before Chuuya cut him off. “ But , not everyone is out to hurt you. You have people who care about you.”
Silence stretched on for a few seconds. “... no one should.”
“I do.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Chuuya sighed loudly, making sure every drop of exasperation was clear in it. “Stop trying to push me away, Osamu.”
Dazai’s eyes widened, suddenly vividly clear. His gaze burned into the ginger, lips slightly parted as breath caught in his throat. “Say it again.”
“Stop trying to push me away…?”
“ No .” His voice was oddly strained, unusual desperation slipping into his tone. He was too exhausted to keep up his mask, too emotionally vulnerable to be anything but purely honest. “My name. Say it again.”
Chuuya blinked, confused for a moment. Realisation struck him like a truck, having not noticed his slip. Dazai remained fully silent, staring with unblinking eyes and baited breath. “I care for you, Osamu.”
Dazai felt ill at the confession. His brain was predisposed to supplying him the worst-case situations. Trained him to accept he was and always would be alone. No matter how many people surrounded him, they would all leave him in the end. It made no difference how much he clung; if anything, the tighter he held on the faster they would slip from his hands, falling like nothing more than grains of sand.
And yet, he made note of, Chuuya hadn’t. He didn’t give him up. He apologised for causing him pain, even though he constantly threatened him with situations far worse. The feeling in his heart burned more, digging into the muscle with vengeful claws.
He was sent into a spiral, flipping between danger and safety. He craved the comfort the other brought him, yet was too afraid to reach for it. Too afraid their fragile relationship will shatter, that he’ll end up being tossed into the endless stretch of solitude once again.
Honesty caught in his throat, too used to playing the role of jester to let it spill from his mouth. It choked him, refusing to budge no matter how badly he wanted to push it out. So, instead of giving a verbal reply, he scooted closer to Chuuya, relishing in the gentle radiation of warmth that came from him.
Chuuya responded by hesitant arms wrapping around him, a promise whispered without being voiced.
“I’ll be here. Always.”
2
But Dazai Osamu was a fearful fool. He’d been consumed by shadows for far too long, shying from any bit of light shone his way.
And to him, Chuuya was brighter than the sun. No matter how long he stayed in the darkness, his light only seemed to grow.
Dazai was afraid. Afraid to lose that light he clung to like a lifeline, afraid that one day it would truly burn him.
So, he burned the other first. Broke their partnership, the smoke from Chuuya’s car being a symbol of what they had. It was the best way to protect himself.
Dazai successfully was able to ignore how his heart was torn from his chest at the mere thought. You couldn’t mourn the loss of something if you deluded yourself into believing it was never lost in the first place.
It worked for years. Up until the point the Agency and Port Mafia gained a tentative partnership. Under this notion, it was natural for Soukoku to be reformed with far more cracks than before. More hesitation from both of them, the gravity they always felt to each other being denied.
The turning point came when Dazai showed up unannounced to their- Chuuya’s apartment, standing uncertainty in front of the door for the past 10 minutes. Each time his knuckles almost made contact to the door, he flinched as if the wood transmitted into a fire. He knew this was a bad idea. That this would only shatter whatever relationship they managed to repair. Yet his greedy, desperate heart led his feet to the familiar door.
Dazai snapped out of his thought at the voice inside spitting out curses, steadily getting closer. All too late, he realised there was someone approaching the door. Fight and flight kicked in automatically, his body getting twisted into familiar shadows.
“How long are you going to stand out there, Shitty Dazai?” Potent venom laced each word, storm eyes immediately locking onto the place Dazai concealed himself after the door swung open.
Dazai knew it would end like that. It was only natural for shadows to relent under light so bright it blinded. “I was hoping I could get out another few minutes. Or hours.”
Chuuya didn’t look impressed, staring at him with cold eyes that didn’t flatter his warm appearance at all. He looked Dazai up and down, able to peer past the persona Dazai played. “Tch. Get inside.”
Instinctually, Dazai listened. He lost any playful fight the moment Chuuya looked at him.
He wasn’t sure how welcomed he was. So he hovered in the doorway, watching Chuuya walk through the mostly unchanged house. The biggest difference were picture frames laying face-down. Pictures Dazai still remembered taking.
The pang only got stronger, squeezing his heart so painfully he was afraid it would burst under the unrelenting force.
“Get in here.” Chuuya called from the bathroom, annoyance clear in his tone. “I don’t want your shitty blood on my floor.”
Memories of another time flooded in his mind as he made the familiar walk, something close to nostalgia filling him. A time where things were oddly peaceful, where the demons haunting him were less prevalent than usual.
Chuuya was already sitting on the floor, expression unreadable. Dazai hated it. Something carnal triggered in his brain, desperate to see anything else. Desperate to push out the shadows hanging on the other’s face.
Unknowing of Dazai’s thoughts, Chuuya just raised a brow and made a lazy motion towards the tub lip. “Sit.”
Dazai sat, albeit hesitantly.
He glanced around, swallowing the rare nervousness he felt. The bathroom was just as he remembered, minus the multitude of different coloured and shaped bottles neatly organised in the corner. A slight floral scent hung in the air, intoxicatingly reminding him of the ginger.
“Hm.” Chuuya tore through the bandages along Dazai’s neck, ignoring the protest the brunet gave him. An annoying jumble about how harsh the ‘ Chibi ’ was treating him and how much of a brute he was. A wet towel was roughly pressed against the junction of Dazai’s neck and shoulder, scrubbing without a hint of mercy. “Not as bad as I thought it’d be.” Chuuya commented, pulling back a stained towel. “How’d this happen?”
“Got stabbed.” Dazai responded with a shrug, resisting the urge to cover the wound. He recalled the feeling of the knife carving its way past skin and meat, just barely missing his left subclavian vein by a mere inch. Despite still having all his blood-stained clothes on, he felt just as naked as everytime Chuuya cared for him. It was a nasty feeling for him to place trust into anyone else.
“Uh huh. Don’t you have an actual doctor at the Agency…?”
The detective pressed his lips into a line, looking down. That didn’t last long; Chuuya, with an annoyed huff, turned Dazai’s head in whichever way he pleased.
“Whatever.” Chuuya grabbed a clear bottle, blue sticker-
“Wait!” Panic filled Dazai, spilling out from the emotion-dam he built up. That bottle practically haunted him. The burn he felt was like nothing before. It was like pure acid trying to eat his flesh.
“I’m out of Oxydol.” Chuuya innocently said, sadistic smile giving him away. He poured a bit onto a cotton swab, putting it to the wound without giving the other a chance to react.
He prepared himself for a battle, to push down the pain. Dazai knew he fucked up by leaving. Knew he tossed away his closest companion, ultimately killing whatever threads of a childhood he had.
Slowly, Chuuya watched the brunet relax, confusion clear as day in Dazai’s face. He floundered to say something, much to the other’s amusement. “It’s called ‘ Witch Hazel ’,” Chuuya flowed into the english like water, having mastered multiple languages. “Helps clean out wounds. Also an anti-inflammatory. Helps with hemorrhoids, apparently.”
Dazai couldn’t stop the laugh before it bubbled over. He was caught off guard with the casual comment, unconsciously melting into the warm hand treating his injury. “Is Chibi confessing to me that he had hemorrhoids?”
Chuuya didn’t give Dazai the pleasure of a verbal answer, instead giving him a deadpan expression. “It hurt so bad last time because I didn’t use it properly.”
“And you can use it properly now?”
“Yup. I taught myself some first aid.”
“Why?” It didn’t make too much sense for someone in Chuuya’s position to learn the art of preserving life.
Chuuya didn’t answer for a while, putting on some sort of fancy cream. Satisfied with his work, he wrapped bandages around Dazai’s neck expertly. “For you.”
“... what?” Dazai didn’t know how else to respond, blinking with owlish eyes. Chuuya would’ve laughed at his ridiculous expression had the air not been thick with tension.
“For you.” The mafioso repeated, drawing out each word with careful sluggishness. “I started teaching myself it after….” He trailed off, both having an innate (after being partnered for years) talent to understand each other without words.
Ever since that time, something changed between them. There was a sort of unspoken new side to their relationship. Where they broke down their walls for one another, leaning more heavily on each other than before. In particular, Dazai had noticed that, whenever either of them got injured, Chuuya’s medical skills had improved drastically within short spans of time. He assumed it was just Chuuya’s incredible ability to pick up any skill concerningly quickly.
Dazai had an inkling that it wasn’t some sort of natural genius (like him, as he so cockily insists) but born from hard work and perseverance.
“Why…?” It barely sounded above a breath, yet his ex-partner was able to catch it.
“I didn’t want to lose you.” It was so honest that Dazai felt burned. The pang crashed into a wave, squeezing any hope of breath from his lungs. “I didn’t want you to die.”
They stayed in silence, Dazai sitting on the lip of the tub while Chuuya kneeled on the floor. It was such a fragile moment, an inch away from slipping over an edge that would return them to something similar to their relationship before.
That was until Dazai broke the careful quiet with his big mouth, words tumbling out before his brain could process what they were. “Can I sleep with you?”
Chuuya shot up from his position, looking down on the usually taller one. He looked very concerned. “Did you hit your head too?”
Dazai cringed at the bluntness of his own words, coming out far differently than he intended. “No. I… I meant…” The words he wished to speak were caught in the trap snug in his throat, honesty unable to slip by it. Want and need intermixed together, a pang stemming from an unknown emotion causing physical pain.
Chuuya enjoyed his struggle greatly, amusement curling up his lips. Dazai ignored his brain supplying the word ‘ beautiful ’ to describe the view. “The Dazai Osamu ,” he put a great deal of emphasis on the name, “asking lowly me to bed? To what do I owe this absolute honour?”
Dazai huffed, puffing out one of his cheeks in an exaggerated pout. “Chibi is mean…”
“ Reap what you sow , Bastard. Come on.”
Dazai followed, falling easily back into their schedule from before. Back then, Dazai’s room slowly became more of a storage room as he slept in Chuuya’s bed more often than not. Soon, it wasn’t Chuuya’s bed but their bed. It was easier to rescue each other from the drowning pools of black that way, whispering some truthful promises to the other to calm them back to slumber.
It felt oddly like home curling under Chuuya’s covers (after Dazai changed. Chuuya would not let blood in his futon again ), a dangerous feeling he had long forsaken. Chuuya slid in right next to him, complaining a bit about how much of a blanket hog he was.
“This is a one time thing.” Chuuya warned after a moment. “Next time you show up unannounced at my apartment, I’m kicking you down the stairs.”
“So mean…” Dazai whined, curling into the familiar position with the other’s arms wrapping around him. “What happened to my good, loyal dog…?”
Chuuya gave a dangerous smile. “Call me a dog one more time and I’ll make truth of my threat tonight .”
“So scary too!” He gave a theatrical shiver.
“Shut up and go to bed, Mackerel.”
“Anything for you, Slug~”
When Dazai got up in the morning, Chuuya already making breakfast in the kitchen, he didn’t make a comment on how the flat picture frames were miraculously upright.
3
Chuuya didn’t end up making truth of his threat, considering it was him showing up at Dazai’s apartment instead. He didn’t even bother knocking, going right in. Dazai had the mind-boggling habit of refusing to lock his door.
“Where are you, Bastard?”
He froze, blood running suddenly cold. Golden light flooded from an ajar door. A bathroom.
Images of blood spilling endlessly against white tiles flooded Chuuya’s mind. That was the day he realised all the offhand, almost joking comments Dazai made were far from it. That they all were a silent plea for help, one that everyone turned their nose up at.
He forced his feet to move, body shaking more noticeably with every step. That was what spurred Chuuya to privately study medicine, though he really took it seriously after the day their mission went south.
Please… He begged silently to no one in particular, squeezing his eyes shut in preparation for the worse. Taking in a sharp breath, he peered around the corner.
Nothing.
There was no Dazai laying half dead on the floor, blood a sickening pool around him.
Chuuya let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, relief so powerful it nearly sent him to his knees. The only thing keeping him upright was the fact he still hadn’t found Dazai.
Turning off the light and closing the door, Chuuya made his way to (what he assumed) was the bedroom. Pushing the door opened confirmed his suspicions.
A lump was under a paper-thin sheet, movement just barely noticeable in the pitch black.
“Get up, shithead.” Chuuya strolled in, tearing the pathetic excuse for a blanket off the detective.
Dazai shivered against the sudden cold, looking up at the reason with dead eyes. He opened his mouth, no doubt to make some obnoxious jab, but it fell short and died on his tongue. Tense silence stretched out between them before the brunet sighed, a hollow shell of the usual energetic persona he puts up. “Why are you here?”
Chuuya hummed, grabbing Dazai’s arm and dragging him to the bathroom (he realises it would’ve been better to have left the door open. It makes him too uncomfortable to even amuse the idea, though) while ignoring the whiny complaints. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.” Dazai deadpanned, already feeling the prickle of annoyance stab under his skin. His how-many-days-has-it-been depressive episode’s plans were ruined, all under the cruel hand of a mafioso that hadn’t grown since 15.
“My pleasure.” Chuuya tossed him onto the floor, glancing around to try and spot any hygiene products. The bathroom was quite small; Chuuya had to shuffle around the sulking brunet in order to turn on the tub. He took notice of the multiple shower products on the side of the tub, all barely used. All were also stolen straight from his own bathroom (they weren’t actually stolen. Chuuya gave them to him in absolute disgust after seeing how Dazai was solely using a 5-in-1).
“Why haven’t you been using those?” Chuuya gestured to the hygiene products in an almost offended way. “Those were fucking expensive.”
Dazai regarded the items with little interest, slight frown playing at the corners of his lips. “... it’s a lot of effort.” He admitted in quiet, exhausted honesty.
Chuuya stopped the water with a scoff, pouring in a scoop of pink himalayan bath salts. Dried rose petals rose to the top, slightly invigorated with new life in lieu of the hot water. “Making me take care of you like some sort of partner…” He grumbled, swishing around the water with his hand. “It’s ready. Hurry up and get in before the water gets cold.”
“Is Chibi going to stay…?” There was a hint of tease in Dazai’s tone as he slowly removed his layers. He cringed at the way his clothing stuck to his flesh uncomfortably.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Chuuya rebuked with ease, matching the other’s tone.
Dazai pouted at Chuuya’s reaction, slipping into the water. A small sigh escaped his lips, warm water splashing against lanky limbs. He was sure he reeked of sweat, a proof of how long he’s stayed trapped under his thin blanket alone in a black room. Silencing his thoughts, he fully submerged himself into the water before popping out a few seconds later.
In the meantime, Chuuya took off his bolero and vest, shoving them into the corner of the bathroom. Dazai made a sort of strangled look, looking at him with wide eyes. “What?”
Dazai blinked, staring at him as if he killed a man. Er– that metaphor doesn’t really work… “I-I thought it was some sort of weird bolo tie!”
Chuuya nodded slowly to push the other to give more detail, at an absolute loss.
“Not a body harness !” Dazai seemed quite flustered, stammering over his words and a deep flush colouring his ear tips.
Chuuya just laughed at him, grabbing one of the numerous hair products and spreading a healthy amount on his palms. “Turn around.” Dazai listened as if in a trance. He slowly began to massage the shampoo into the brunet’s scalp, making sure to spread it evenly and thickly. The way Dazai preened into the touch was not missed.
“You never answered why you’re here.” Dazai broke the calm that rested between them, muscles now loose and marionetted into whatever way the other pleased.
“Your partner called me.” Chuuya picked up the shampoo rinser on the floor, smirking at it. It was shaped to resemble an animal; specifically, a crab. He filled it with water from the tub, watching the bubbles from the shampoo cascade down the white porcelain. “Said you haven’t been to work in two weeks. Wasn’t answering any calls or texts.”
“Mmm…” Dazai hummed, watching the water ripple at every slight movement. He wasn’t sure whether the time made sense or not; seconds felt like hours for him.
Chuuya grabbed another bottle of some luxury hair product (Dazai hadn’t a clue which product would go in which order) and repeated the same motions as he did with the shampoo, making sure every strand was given proper attention to. “So…?”
“So?” Dazai parroted, wanting to procrastinate the upcoming question by even a few seconds more.
“ So ,” Chuuya repeated with more emphasis, making it clear there was no way to worm out of this one, “why?”
“Chibi has to be more clear in his questions.”
“What caused this depressive episode?” He put some body wash on a loofah, beginning to scrub around Dazai’s neck despite the insisting he could do it himself.
Giving up his halfhearted attempt, Dazai responded to the question with great hesitance. Still holding onto the futile hope the mafioso will drop the subject. “Hm… breathing? Existing?”
Chuuya didn’t respond. He took note of every mark the other bore; every scar, every birthmark, every burn. A distant memory of seeing freckles littering his shoulder popped into Chuuya's mind. Any hint of them was long gone now, skin hidden under layer after layer. That was a particularly fond memory for him; it was one of those times where Dazai seemed like he was getting better. Smiling brightly more often. More inclined to doing work. Taking care of himself more. Actually seeming like a functioning human for once .
The artificial flicker of the bathroom following the memory always caused it to sour.
“What’s going on in Chibi’s small head?” Dazai asked it teasingly, but there was just a breath of unease under it. It was as easy as breathing for them to tell when the other was beginning to slip.
“Nothing a rat bastard like you needs to know.”
“You come into my home and bully me like this. What did I ever do to deserve this kind of treatment…?” Dazai dramatically sobbed, even putting some of the bath water near his eyes to act like tears. Lucky none of it got into the actual eye. Chuuya would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit disappointed.
“You need to start caring for yourself more.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll waste away otherwise.”
“And?”
Chuiuya sighed, tired. “A lot of people care for you, Dazai. More than you think. You’re a genius; I’ll admit it. But you’re also so fucking stupid.”
People caring for him…? Dazai knew that quite a few people would be upset if he suddenly passed. It was a part of the reason why he insisted on being as annoying as possible (the main reason being it was just plain fun ). In order to soften the blow his eventual demise will bring others. Perhaps even cause them to throw a little party, relieved to be finally ridden of the dreadful excuse for a person. To not have to amuse the empty husk any longer.
It was the same reason why he set fire to Chuuya’s car. To burn away any upset the other may have harboured at his disappearance. To, instead of sadness, have only hatred be his lasting impression.
Him pushing everyone away was the best for everyone. Especially whoever was unfortunate enough to come into contact with him.
“I know you're thinking too much with that brain of yours. I can hear the smoke from here.”
Dazai hummed lowly, feeling himself getting dragged back under in his head. As much as he hated to admit it, Chuuya’s presence did improve his mood despite Dazai’s loud complaining. But now, lost to his thoughts that promised only the worst for him, the other’s presence felt more like a painful poison he’d have to inevitably swallow. It was a terrible feeling, a sudden weight of being trapped crushing down on his brittle figure.
“ Osamu ,” Chuuya’s voice hissed out, hand forcefully pulling Dazai’s head until they faced each other.
Dazai blinked. Once. Twice. Slowly, he realised he must’ve become lost in the prison of his thoughts.
“You back?” A thumb gently brushed against Dazai’s cheek, touch burning. It wasn’t a bad burn though. If anything, it was more painful by noticing how nice it felt.
“Yeah…” He still felt a little fuzzy, world simultaneously too overwhelming while also being so distant. They merged together along a blurry line, causing quite a distressing experience. For someone normal. Luckily, Dazai was far from that.
“I need you to stay with me. Can you do that?” Chuuya’s voice was soft. He only slipped into that tone when he was worried. Worried that Dazai would go off and ‘ do something stupid ’ as he so eloquently put. Said something stupid including bathing with a toaster or kissing the front of a moving truck.
“... is the Chibi’s brain so small he has to repeat my own words back to me?” Dazai teased lightly, feeling reality slip back slowly.
It was a week after they were shoved into the same apartment (apparently, living in a storage container ‘ wasn’t appropriate ’ and ‘ a bad look on the Port Mafia ’). It was a day when the plague of the Mafia was particularly strong, dragging them indiscriminately into the darkness. It was nothing out of the ordinary for Dazai. But for Chuuya, who was so accustomed to balancing on the edge of shadow and sunlight? He was thrown into a torrent of blindness, body and mind swallowed fully.
Dazai recalled it being an all-day process just to return the poor, shivering boy back to somewhat normal. That was also the day their walls crumbled for each other, making a silent oath to survive this hell they (debatable) walked into.
“You may insist that you barely pass as a human, but you seem to know them quite well.”
“You always know more by being an outsider. Humans are genetically disposed to be biased towards whatever viewpoint they wish to see.”
“So you’re biased into believing that no one should care for you?”
Dazai opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish, words dying and getting reformed a multitude of times. “... that’s different.”
Chubby snickered, egging him to continue.
Dazai, instead of defending his statement, chose the best option for him: melodramatics and diverging the conversation. “ Chibi ,” he began to whine at an ear-grating pitch, “you’re being too rough! My skin is fragile , thank you very much!”
His ploy was foiled when the other didn’t react past muttering something unintelligible under his breath. Most like cussing him out. “Finish washing yourself. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Chuuya handed off the loofa, hesitating in the doorway. A quick scan of the bathroom (especially near the sink) calmed his nerves the slightest bit. In truth, he really didn’t want to leave Dazai alone for even a minute. He could tell the brunet was still tormented by whatever thoughts haunted him as of late.
It was dangerous for the other to be left to his own devices for long.
But it was equally as important to make sure the other ate. God-knows-how-long it’s been since anything significant ended up in his stomach.
He got to work in the pathetic kitchen as quickly as possible. Is what he would say if there was anything to work with . There was alcohol and canned crab. And that was it .
The fucker never listens. Chuuya scrounged around for a moment longer finding -- surprise surprise! -- more canned crab. It was everywhere . Worse than any bug infestation. They were stacked every corner in the cabinets, in the fridge, everywhere . What the fuck.
He decided to… ignore this addiction. For now. He’d try to get Dazai to eat something better at a later date in time; he was an absolute sucker to home-cooked meals. But that was for a later date in time.
Chuuya ignored his mind immediately spinning up recipe ideas Dazai may enjoy, grabbing a disgusting can and bringing it to the bathroom. He half expected to be met with a less-than-pleasant sight but was positively impressed when the other decided not to be a menace for once in his life.
Dazai was instead resting almost peacefully, slipped under the water from his mouth down. His eyes were closed in a drowsy manner, no doubt from the unknown amount of time he’s spent blankly staring at a wall, too trapped in his own swirling thoughts to pay mind to his deteriorating health.
“Here,” Chuuya lazily tossed the can towards his ex-partner, mildly impressed on how it was caught instinctually. “I know your dumbass hasn’t eaten in a while.”
Dazai made some bubbles in the swiftly cooling water, probably complaining about anything and everything under the sun. After a few more moments of incessant bubble-creating, he popped his head up, spraying drops of water when he gave his head a small shake.
Chuuya leaned against the ceramic sink, frowning down at the brunet. “ Eat .”
There was lots of grumbling and off putting the inevitable. Dazai truly did put in his best effort to get the other off track, mocking and prodding in hopes something will push a pin. Whenever he got into his phases of inability to eat, canned crab was his go-to to not starve to death. But, right now, even the thought of consuming such ambrosia (as he insisted it was) left him reeling in illness.
When it was clear Chuuya would, in fact, not let up and only stared at him with increasing judgement, Dazai relented, popping the tab of the can open. Immediately, a redolent mixture of seafood and floral filled the air. Chuuya kept down his gag at the awful mixture upon seeing the ecstatic look on the other’s face.
Dazai popped a bit into his mouth, making an exaggerated sound of pleasure just to watch Chuuya’s face scrunch up in unadulterated disgust.
“Do you want me to stay for a bit?”
Dazai blinked up at him, fingers holding some crab hanging comically just above his waiting mouth.
Chuuya jumped on the sink counter so his elbow could rest on his knee, popping up his head as he flashed an amused smirk. “Well?” There was a certain lilt to his tone, one that Dazai was adamantly trying to deny as truth.
But it stared him in the face, clear as glass. The result of all their interactions, all their movements, all their looks and whispers and teases. Every accumulation of their time together, apart, and their reunion.
It caused a wave of an emotion he daren’t name surge through him. Fresh, raw, angry; furious at being denied the freedom it demanded at first meeting. He was afraid to admit it, even to himself. Afraid to try and claim something for himself knowing it’ll be torn from him just like everything else.
“Uh.” Dazai responded dumbly.
The smirk grew, grey eyes a storm of the emotion thou-shalt-be-named. “Feel free to say no. If you want space, that’s fine Osamu.”
Dazai was a lost man, overwhelmed with the care. Even though Chuuya had always, always been by his side, it was just convenient for him. That’s what the so-called genius reasoned. There was no other reason for him to anything he did.
He was lying to himself. He knew this from the first time this line of reasoning was created.
“... it’s a mess.”
“Hm?” Chuuya was enjoying this greatly, watching the genius strategist flounder.
“My apartment. Mess.”
Chuuya hummed, putting up an act of looking thoughtful. The apartment wasn’t as bad as one would assume. Sure, there was trash littered around with the interlude of some flatware sprinkled around. The main reason it couldn’t really be considered a ‘mess’ is due to one simple fact; there was barely anything. It didn’t look like anyone lived in it. It was more reminiscent of a set on a commercial; just furnished enough to look somewhat presentable. “Shame. I guess I could help you clean up.”
“That’s- You don’t have to.”
“You’re right. Cleaning up your mess would be damn annoying. Guess I’ll just have to take you home.”
“Home?” Dazai asked weakly, brain he placed such faith in reduced to static mush.
“Home.” Chuuya confirmed with a smile, so soft and bright it was blinding. “It was your home too, Dazai.”
“... yeah. Okay.”
“Okay.”
Dazai had lost his mocking spark, too encaptured in the charm of the light leading him. “Let’s go home, Chuuya.”
+1
They both expected their relationship to be harder to maintain. One filled with a drowning darkness on the side of light and the other so blindly bright but remaining in the shadows. They expected to have to war for each other every second, fight for them the same as they had to fight for everything else.
It was strangely mellow. Not the theatrics they expected. Their relationship ended up being soft, domestic, peaceful if they dared to say.
Of course, just as in every relationship, it was a constant stream of ups-and-downs. Trying to make sure it was kept secret only added extra stress.
Dazai sighed, pushing the door to their apartment open with a dramatic announcement. He was dead exhausted; the Agency had just finished wrapping up a prolific case and the paperwork was never ending. The rare times he managed to worm his way out of doing the work, he was forcefully shoved into tying up the loose ends.
There weren’t any lights on in that apartment. This fact by itself would’ve been of little interest (it was 02:14 after all), if not for a small little issue: they always waited for each other to get home. Unless one of them was going to be gone for the entire day, it was an unspoken rule between them.
The birth of such a rule was when Chuuya had come late, life hanging on by a thread and Dazai was none the wiser to it. From then on, neither of them could sleep well without the other’s presence next to them.
“Slug?” Dazai called out, sliding off his shoes neatly next to Chuuya’s. He was very particular about that. Dazai began to move towards their bedroom, hand unconsciously twitching to his hip as he slowly creaked the door open. The resting of the gun against his hip was heavy every second the door widened,
A breath fell from his lips in relief, tension melting away slowly. “Chibi…”
Chuuya didn’t respond to the outside stimulation, hands curled into ginger strands so tightly a few were forcefully pulled from his scalp. He was curled in on himself, forehead resting on knees while his spine dug painfully into the headboard. His chest was heaving, unsteady gasps of breaths filling and flowing from his lungs in an unsteady manner.
Dazai slowly moved closer, careful to dodge any of the loose objects flinging around the air. Their room was an absolute mess; anything that wasn’t rooted down was slammed against each other in the air, any breakable items unrecognisable by now.
“Chibi…!” Dazai set a knee down on the bed, careful not to get too close to Chuuya. Whenever memories and reality begin to melt together, either of them could very easily be fatal. Lost into themselves, their bodies react instinctively in self preservation. Luckily, this time wasn’t too bad. Chuuya was startled, even if only momentarily, by the voice, recognition swimming in storm eyes as he looked up.
“... Dazai?” Dazai thought seeing him would make Chuuya calm down a bit, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Heavy tears spilled down his face, face contorting into an expression of pure agony. “Oh god, I’m- I’m so sorry.”
Each word was thick with anguish, weighted against his tongue. It burned his throat to breathe, each unwelcomed breath having to push around a rock in his throat. “I’m so fucking sorry Dazai–”
“Hey Chibi, relax. I’m here.” Dazai moved in slowly, stretching out his hand in offering. He flinched at the other’s recoil, wide grey eyes staring at the hand as if it burned him.
“Chuuya…” He pulled his hand back slowly, keeping his voice low and calm. “Tell me what happened.”
The person-in-question curled in on himself again, raw sobs getting torn out of his chest. The floating objects slowly began to obey the laws of natural gravity, Chuuya’s control over his Ability slipping as he regains slight control of himself. “ Fuck Dazai I’m so, so, so sorry…”
“Chuuya.” There was an edge of ice to his voice, softness hardening. “What. Happened.”
“I-” Chuuya made a choked noise, body shaking like a leaf. “I killed you Dazai and I just- I just had to w-watch…”
“Chuuya… It wasn’t real. I’m here. I’m still alive.”
Chuuya shook his head violently, venom-laced words spat out. “ No. I- I saw you die… I ki-killed you, Dazai. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorry I’msorry –”
Dazai grabbed Chuuya’s arm forcefully, sliding up his arm until he could grab the back of Chuuya’s hand. Placing it against his chest, over his heart, he spoke slowly. “Chuuya. I’m here. I’m still alive. Do you feel the heat from my hand? Do you feel the beat of my heart? Breathe, Chuuya. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
Chuuya blinked slowly, causing more fat tears to stain his face. Dazai had the urge to wipe them away. So he did, making his touches feather-light. “Do you see me, Chuuya? I’m fine. Okay? I just had to work overtime at the Agency. You didn’t kill me.”
It was similar to breaking the news to a child that their favourite dessert place was shut down. The slow, widening eyes, bearing into your very soul. The slight scrunch of their face as they process that information, the flicker of numerous emotions flashing in the matter of seconds.
And, similar to when the crushed child would question, Chuuya’s voice too was small, so quiet as if afraid raising it too high would cause it to shatter. “Dazai…?”
Dazai smiled, small and warm. “Right here, Chibi.”
“You’re alive…?”
“Against my best efforts, I am.”
“...” Chuuya looked to, impossibly, grow even smaller. His shoulders slumped, head hanging limply and eyes devoid of any light. “You’re alive…”
Any objects still hanging around in the air dropped immediately, leading to an array of interesting noises around them. “Fuck, Dazai, I thought… I thought I had killed you.” The hand against Dazai’s chest tightening, gripping the fabric so tightly it was impressive it didn’t tear.
Dazai hummed, shifting on the bed so he could comfortably lean Chuuya against him. There was a playful lilt to his tone, “Now why would the silly Chibi think that? You couldn’t kill me if you tried.”
His plan worked; a quiet snort sounded from Chuuya. “That’s what you’d like to think, Bastard.”
“Oh? Are you offering to take me out?”
“Yeah, I’ll take you out.”
Dazai theatrically gasped, adding in a few sniffles for dramatic flair. “Chibi does love me!”
“I’ll take you out on a date , you suicidal bastard.” It slipped so easily from Chuuya’s tongue, a warm tease. Ever since they got together officially, Dazai, other than a few comments here or there, didn’t seem too interested in his less-than-healthy activities. When questioned, he responded with a bright smile exclaiming that he wished for a double suicide with the “most beatiful, stunning, love-of-my-life Chuuya!” (his words, not Chuuya’s).
“Oh? I wonder just what kind of date you have planned for this late at night~ I never knew Chibi was such a scoundrel ~!”
Chuuya only rolled his eyes, too low of energy to quip back.
“Chuuya… Do you want to tell me what happened?”
There was a long stretch of silence between them. It wasn’t the first time Dazai had to pull him out from his own head, thoughts daggers with the intent to spill blood. It wasn’t the worst one either. But still, every time without fail, Chuuya felt as though he was bearing himself fully. Naked, unprotected, vulnerable. It was a lot easier for him to shed off the fear of being revealed than it was for Dazai.
“I guess… I guess I just dreamed?” His face scrunched in confusion, words slow and uncertain. Chuuya didn’t think he could dream. But it felt too different than simply letting his mind wander. “Dreamed that–” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale of breath, burying himself more into his partner. “Dreamed that I lost control. And killed you.”
Fingers found their way to ginger locks, combing through the strands with the delicacy of handling porcelain. “And?”
“You cancelled out Corruption with No Longer Human. So… instead of me having to witness your death while in the- in the void , I had to…” Chuuya trailed off, cringing. He could still smell iron in the air, feel the blood seeping into the creases in his palms. See the way Dazai stared at him, eyes overflowing with such peace and his mouth twisted into words haunting his very soul.
“Chuuya. I’m here, okay? And I don’t plan on leaving anytime without you.” There was a pause, as if he was considering if it was an appropriate time to add one of his famous little gags. “Key words being: without you .”
Chuuya groaned out an “insufferable bastard” without any bite. “I had to hold you as you went cold.” His hands unconsciously moved until they met the warmth of the other, unbridled by bandages. “Even in my dreams you’re still as much of a bastard as always, if that makes you feel any better. You had the audacity to tell me I could only die if it was a double suicide with you. While you were dying !”
Dazai chuckled, quiet and pure in emotion. “Shame. I guess I left you needing to bring me back to life so we could live out our dreams~”
“ Your dream, Bastard.” Chuuya corrected promptly, giving a huff faux with annoyance. “And I already did.”
“Hm?”
Chuuya moved so he could cup Dazai’s cheek with his hands, staring at him with such limpid love it burned . “Here you are.”
“Here I am.” Dazai confirmed, using his free hand to cup over one of Chuuya’s.
“And you’re not going anywhere.”
“Except for work later today.”
“We’ll never be able to have a moment, will we?”
“Nope!” Dazai sounded all too cheerful. “I can personally confirm that!”
Chuuya sighed, weak smile curling his lips. “I’d have it no other way.” He leaned in, lightly pecking Dazai’s lips with his own before pulling away. “We have to clean the room.”
“We? I didn’t do anything!”
“ We because you love me too much to make me deal with everything on my own.”
Dazai pushed his cheek out in exaggerated pout. “No fair. Chibi’s been taking too much after me.”
“Have no one to blame but yourself.” No matter how many times Dazai anguished over it, he never did much to prevent it. If anything, he even seemed a bit proud when Chuuya told him stories complaining that Dazai was too much of an influence.
Now that Chuuya wasn’t… yeah , he could properly access the damage. Peeking through the ajar door satisfied him enough; at least it wasn’t an incident that tore the entire house up. Again. Instead, it was a cluster of chaos unleashed in their bedroom, tearing to shreds anything reasonably small. “Be careful walking around.” Chuuya warned after seeing small reflections of silver moonlight glitter along the wooden floor. The carpet under their bed was going to be a pain to clean through.
“Ah- Chibi.” Dazai suddenly grabbed his wrist before Chuuya could jump off the bed. “You’re bleeding.”
Chuuya tilted his head slightly, confusion imminent in his face. It was highly likely for him to have a few nicks here or there, but Dazai looked quite concerned. It would’ve been strange before to see him wear such genuinity, with no mask to cut down or heighten the emotion. Not anymore. “Huh?”
Rich brown eyes danced along Chuuya’s body, flickering and lingering on certain places before moving on in their assessment. After a beat of silence, Dazai nodded gravely. “It looks… I’m sorry, Chibi.” He put on a dramatic sniffle. “I’ll see you in the afterlife.”
“Quit fucking around, shitty bastard. I don’t want to stain my clothes.” Chuuya was wearing his pyjamas, the ones that Dazai had mocked him for. A pleasant brown colour for the backdrop with little, different coloured snails filling the space, He was mocked for a whole two days until another package arrived on their doorstep; a sky-blue matching shirt and pants with little unspecified fish splashing colour on it. Dazai stopped mocking him.
“My humour goes unappreciated once again. Truly the life of a comedian.” Before Chuuya could mark a snarky response, Dazai continued with a hum, “We should get it cleaned though. They look deeper than usual.”
Chuuya was dragged to the bathroom, cursing out more warnings about the glass on the ground as Dazai bulldozed through. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll clean it myself later.”
“Chibi takes care of me, so I have to take care of Chibi.”
“Do I really want your care, though…?”
Dazai put on a face of full offence, grabbing the medkit they always have in plain sight. Just because Dazai hadn’t attempted anything as of late didn’t mean Chuuya expected the urges to just disappear. He surely didn’t believe in all that “love will cure anything!” bullshit. “I’ll have you know I’m quite good a dealing with things like this~”
Chuuya stared at him with a deadpan expression, choosing not to respond. Especially after seeing the way the artificial light caught on the brunet’s features, harsh and unnatural. It brought out everything Chuuya loved, and more.
He had to look away after a memory of blood dripping surged to the front of his mind.
“Here we are~! Nurse Dazai here to clean you up~~”
The ‘patient’ nearly gagged, distracting himself by sitting on the sink counter. He chose to ignore the fact he had to do a little hop to get on it.
“Such an adverse reaction.” It almost sounded a scold, tease thick in his tone. “Do you want your arms or leg cleaned up first?”
Now, with the aid of the slightly dimmed (Dazai still hadn’t changed the bulb even though it was his turn to) bathroom light, Chuuya could finally see the mystery injuries Dazai had been alluding to. It wasn’t any shock to see bleeding cuts and dark bruises staining his arms; that was normal for the aftermath. What wasn’t too common was the angry red staining through his pants, the clothing ripped along his right thigh. It revealed a jagged gash unnoticed by him. It was far from the worst injuries he’s had, but still was cause for some concern. “Ah.”
“Hm?” Dazai chimed, flickering his eyes down to where Chuuya’s gaze was locked on. “So, leg?”
“Yeah.” It was strange that it didn’t hurt, Chuuya observed. Perhaps he still wasn’t fully in his body, certain aspects of himself still floating around untethered. He rolled up the pant leg and sleeves, careful not to aggravate any of the numbed injuries lest they all hit him at once.
Dazai hummed some song they listened to earlier in the day, bringing a towel damp with warm water (Chuuya didn’t notice him do that) to the wound. His expression was oddly serious, patting along the outside of the gash to clean it up a bit. Wounds always looked significantly worse when its blood coats the outside, creating a nasty veil of lies.
It was easy to relax under the careful hands, the calming sound of his partner’s melodious voice, the slight hum coming from the lightbulb that really should’ve gotten changed weeks ago. It was bordering on fire-hazard by now.
Exhaustion nipped and wore down Chuuya’s bones, fatigued mind slowly catching up to the events that had conspired.
He used to get the same bleed of life and fiction when he was younger, just first learning about the true power his being possessed. A taste of his true potential; intoxicating and sweet to his young self. At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a drop of fear at the feeling of control slipping from him. The human mind has a wonderful ability to turn even the slightest hint of doubt into an infestation, pulling at the darkest parts of your mind and taking control of your body with them.
“Chuuya?” Dazai was staring at him, eyes careful and considering. “You okay?”
It was amazing how much they cared for each other. Bearing their souls and placing their faith, deserving or otherwise. “I’m going to have to sew.”
Dazai smirked, finishing off his stitch. “I could do it for you.”
“Fuck off.” It would seem like such a sweet, caring offer to anyone else. Chuuya knew better. The last time he allowed Dazai to come anywhere close to his clothes with a needle, he decided to give it some artistic flare . He pouted, crying that “Chibi doesn’t appreciate me!” after Chuuya ignored him for the rest of the day.
“That’s a shame. I even learned a new pattern.” That could only mean disaster. Seems like Chuuya dodged a bullet with that one.
It was a quick clean up for the rest. The worst nicks along his arms were already protected by dried blood, no doubt going to disappear within a few days. This time, there would be no new scars joining the symphony of fresh and old scattered along his body.
“I’m tired.” It wasn’t exactly a complaint. Chuuya leaned a bit to rest his head on the junction of Dazai’s shoulder and neck, silently drinking in the warmth that spilled from it. Dazai carded his fingers through Chuuya’s hair, pulling up his face with his other hand to give a long kiss. Emotions flooded from his lips, a blooming of love and adoration silently passing between the two. It whispered a silent message, a quiet reminder of life .
Dazai pulled back, caressing Chuuya’s cheek with such tenderness that he couldn’t help but melt into the touch. “Let’s go to bed, Osamu.”