Chapter Text
Everything was going terribly wrong.
Kunikida had left early to head to work because of his schedule or something, so Dazai had been left in charge of taking care of Atsushi and Kyouka.
He’d been doing just fine before Kunikida had arrived, so he could handle himself, right? No big deal.
…
“This is a big deal..”
Dazai murmured with horror at he stared at the temperatures that were listed on the thermometer. He had no idea what the hell had happened, but somehow Atsushi’s and Kyouka’s temperatures had randomly spiked in the middle of the night, and he found himself pacing in front of the sofa with two feverish teenagers slumped on it, tiredly blinking and seemingly trying to stay awake, though Atsushi quickly failed and his eyes fluttered shut.
Dazai sighed softly, rubbing his temples as a headache started growing. Not now… He had to figure out how to lower their fevers before they got worse, and Dazai could tell that they were well on their way to developing hyperpyrexia. And that was not good.
He had already replaced their ice packs several times to make sure that they stayed cold, he had kept them laying down and resting, and he had stared at the soup for five minutes straight deciding whether or not they should have hot food when they had a fever. Did it make a difference? Would it it even work or would it make it worse???
Dazai knew a lot of things about medical emergencies and infetions and diseases, but he didn’t know a damn about fevers. It was such a simple thing that he should be well-educated about. But, unfortunately, should wasn’t the same thing as did.
So now here he was, visibly stressing about what the hell he was supposed to do. Should he call Yosano? No, no, she was busy like she had said. A day before Kyouka had gotten sick, Yosano had off-handedly mentioned how she had enough work to last her a week. And sure, Yosano could exaggerate, but knowing work as a doctor, Dazai could assume that the estimate was probably accurate.
With probably the third sigh today, Dazai plopped onto a chair beside tho sofa, slumping against the cushions of it, defeated. What was he supposed to do now…?
Aha! His last logical option left: The Internet!
He scrolled impatiently, eyes scanning every single option on his screen. No… No…Maybe? No… Damnit, where would it be…? It couldn’t be that hard to find anything about helping a bad fever, right?
Dazai also decided to attempt searching up, “If you give someone with a bad fever hot soup, does it make the fever worse?”
Ah. The answer was no. That was relieving.
His legs moved before he could even process the fact that he’d stood up yet, and he quickly found himself standing in the kitchenette, microwaving some of the soup that Kunikida had delivered yesterday. Tapping his foot softly on the ground impatiently as he waited, staring down the depleting timer on the microwave, he started to get antsy. Damnit, he hated this. He hated feeling useless like this. And everytime he felt useless, he thought of how he felt when Odasaku.
Dazai swallowed hard, every second he spent staring at the microwave timer feeling more and more like an eternity. When would it end? It felt like it had been going on forever, the constant hummingof the machine in front of him, vibrating slightly as the bowl inside spun slowly, never stopping unless interfered by a living being. Round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and—
Beep! Beep! Beep! Bee—
Dazai cancelled it before it woke up the two sleeping teens on the couch. He realized that his breathing had quickened as he was staring at the timer. What had he been thinking about again? And why was his heart beat so fast…?
He reached up to open the microwave door, also realizing the fact that his hand seemed to be trembling ever so slightly. Eyebrows furrowing, he faced his palm towards himself, staring at it for a moment. It was still shaking, and also weirdly blurry? Oh, no, that was just his vision, okay… Wait what?
After a moment of intense thinking with a strangely frantic mind, he just tried to brush it off and open the door to the microwave, grabbing the bowl of soup and, while trying not to drop it, placed it quietly down onto the counter. He slipped a spoon in it, about to go walk over to the two teens, when he remembered that, oh, he had to make another one…
“…”
Well then. Another eternity for him, it seemed. He did the same exact thing again: pour some cold soup into a bowl, closed the container of soup, slid it into the fridge, then placed the bowl of cold soup into the microwave, shutting the door and setting a timer. Then he waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.
Damnit, why did this take so long?! This was unreasonable… How long had it been? Already 10 seco— Oh! It had only been 10 seconds?
He sighed softly, just brushing it off as him being especially impatient today. Nothing else.
Dazai’s gaze drifted to the hot soup on the counter, watching as the steam slowly drifted out of it, reminding anyone nearby of how hot it was. He stared for a moment longer…
And the moment the stench reached his nose, he found himself running for the toilet.
Slamming the door behind him, his legs gave out and he fell to his knees, gripping the porcelain of the toilet as he emptied his already empty stomach, feeling the burn in his throat as he dry heaved into the toilet, panting heavily. He was shaking so much, but he didn't' even realize, too…. occupied.
He gasped for air as the dry heaving continued, trying to get it to stop, but his body didn’t seem to want to cooperate with him, just proceeding to try to empty out something that was already hollow. He was suddenly reminded of how little he’d eaten recently. But the thought of consuming anything other than tea, water, and coffee made his stomach do a flip. He gagged again, unable to stop himself.
His throat burned terribly, the stinging coming from nowhere in particular, and he found himself desiring water to soothe it. But unfortunately, if he needed that water, he’d need to get up and grab it himself, since the two other people inside of this apartment were asleep and needed the rest.
Many would argue that Dazai needed rest, too. He, admittedly, hadn’t slept that well last night. He had woken up a lot due to nausea, a stomach ache, or a headache. One of the three every time. It kept him up for so long, and his body just wanted to collapse. It shook heavily as he hunched over the toilet, his vision swimming, mind hazy.
His body wanted him to go lay down and sleep. But he was well aware of the fact that he definitely wouldn't be able to right now. One, because Atsushi and Kyouka needed him. Two, because his mind definitely wouldn't let him. It had a habit of keeping him awake when he so desperately needed sleep.
Dazai coughed into the bowl of the toilet, his throat raw and scratchy. His knuckles were practically blending in with the toilet with how hard he was gripping it. Everything hurt. A shiver danced up his spine, and he squeezed his eyes shut, breathing labored and raspy. This was fine. It was fine. He was… perfectly… utterly… fine…
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
Augh, shi—
He scrambled to his feet, though his legs did almost give out so he had to clutch the bathroom sink and lean over it to stay somewhat upright. Panting, he glanced at the inside of the toilet. It had him wanting to throw up again, but he swallowed hard. He wasn’t one to throw up when he saw something gross— he’d seen and heard plenty of things before, and none of them had been even relatively kid-friendly. Just… right now, he admittedly wasn’t feeling so hot.
He shuddered quietly, reaching out a notably trembling hand and closing the lid of the toilet and flushing it. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he looked back down again, avoiding his reflection. He’d never liked mirrors.
Splashing some cold water on his face, he let out a shuddering breath. The microwave had cancelled itself at the moment, but Dazai was aware of the fact that it was going to go off again soon, and he really didn’t want to wake up Atsushi and Kyouka— if they were still somehow asleep after all that— so he wanted to get there quickly.
He washed his hands quickly, since he knew that he, y’know, should probably do that after vomiting and holding onto a toilet before touching food, even if he’d really just be touching the bowls. He was a bit wary about going back over to the soup, because he knew what happened last time, aka about five minutes ago…
Beep!
Goddamnit.
Finishing off and haphazardly rubbing the towel against his face and hands to dry himself off enough so he wasn't dripping wet when he walked out, he took another shaky breath and left the bathroom. His knees were really killing him from falling onto them like that, but that was a later problem.
He quickly scrambled over to the microwave, hitting the cancel button. Resisting the urge to bang his head against the counter repeatedly, he opened the microwave and pulled out the other bowl of soup, sliding it onto the counter and putting a spoon into it. Taking a glance at the other bowl of soup, he could tell that it was, somehow, still relatively warm, but it had cooled down a little bit. Convenient. Just how Kyouka generally liked it. Atsushi had never understood that, and always wanted his food decently hot. Dazai would’ve smiled if he wasn’t in pain.
Scooping up the bowls with shaky hands, he walked towards the duo on the couch, his steps uneven and a bit wobbly.
Both teens were awake by now, and slighty more conscious than before, so that was a plus.
“Here you are,”
He quietly handed the hotter bowl to Atsushi, and the more cooled off one to Kyouka, putting on a fake smile at their nods of appreciation. How long did he have to keep this up again…? Sure, he’s put on a fake smile through so many injuries and sicknesses,but he just felt so dizzy and tired and sick all at the same time, which was not very fun, as you can see.
Dazai silently walked over to the kitchenette to see if there was anything he could clean up or anything before inevitably going to do something else. His head was throbbing, but it was probably just from the retching earlier, so he brushed it off as unimportant. A later problem, if you will.
With a sigh, he cleaned up the spilled soup broth that was apparently on the counter— he hadn’t even realized he’d spilled— with a paper towel, wincing at the pressure that was put onto his wrist as he did so. Afterwards, he simply tossed the now-dampened paper towel into the trash with another wince, shaking out his legs. It was fine, this was fine. He’d just get on with his day and ignore all this since he had no Kunikida or Chuuya to complain to.
Kunikida was busy at work and definitely not planning on coming over again, and Chuuya was… Well, Chuuya was off today, if Dazai remembered his schedule correctly. So he could technically ask him to come over, but there was no way he was asking him for help. No damn way. He’d rather die.
Actually, now that he thought about it, he’d rather die than do a lot of things… Anyways,
He grabbed a water bottle from a cabinet above the sink, twisting the cap open and tilting his head up to get a drink. Immediately the liquid soothed his aching throat, though not fully. He should make tea for it, but honestly, he really didn’t feel like it right now. He had better things to be doing, right? He could clean up, he could help out Atsushi and Kyouka, he could go flirt with Chibi— Wait what was that last one?
He silently leaned his elbows on the counter, placing his head delicately into his hands, his fingers massaging his own throbbing temples. Maybe he should take some ibuprofen or Tylenol or something. Or maybe he should overdose on it. That would be better, right? Seemed like a pretty painless way to die. But no, he couldn’t do that right now, he had to look after the two on the couch…
He sighed softly, resting his forehead against the cool material of the counter and closing his eyes as he relished in how nice it felt due to the temperature. A cough built up in his throat, and he swallowed hard, letting out a few small coughs. They scratched at his throat, coming out and rattling his body, hands and legs especially. A sharp pain shot up his spine as he accidentally arched his back in an awkward way, making the ache in his temples grow more painful. Damnit… He hated pain…
He was very tempted just to bang his head on the desk until he passed out, but he knew that when he unfortunately woke up, it would make his head ache even more, and that was a big no-go. Plus, Kunikida would kill him for “trying to shirk his responsibilities” so he had to stay awake, sadly.
He silently began to pull his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it without looking and clicking on his contacts, tapping on the one that he knew said “Slug.” He’d memorized where it was, after so many times of being injured out in the Port Mafia and needing Chuuya to come get him.
Before he could (reluctantly) hit the call button, another rough cough rattled his chest, making him subconsciously grip the counter, knuckles turning white and blending in with the white paint of the walls. Bracing himself, he slowly pushed himself up into a straighter standing position, groaning softly as he did so, more pain shooting through his body. His legs wobbled, feeling weak. Dazai gritted his teeth, using pure willpower to stay standing. Just a few more hours… Just a few more hours, and then he could collapse… Just… a few… more….
His legs gave out.
He fell to the floor with a soft thud and simply laid on his side, staring at the bottom of the cabinets tiredly, vision swimming. His mind was hazy, unable to really process the fact that he needed to get up, that he needed to go help.
But no. Instead, he just laid there, letting his conscisousness drift away as he fell into a deep, much, much needed slumber, eyes slowly fluttering shut.
Everything went dark.
…
~*~
Kyouka’s eyes slowly slid open, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she blinked away sleep, opening her mouth and tilting her head back slightly as a soft yawn interrupted her arising.
She felt as though she had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while, her limbs slightly sore and due for a stretch. With a soft sigh, she let her head drop forward, eyes half-lidded with tiredness. After a moment of just sitting like that, though, she lifted her head up once more, blinking quietly.
She glanced around, vision slightly blurring due to her having just woken up. Her thoughts were running relatively slow, more of just drifting to her here and there, but she was able to process something warm leaning against his side.
Eyes fluttering, she turned her head to her right, seeing a familiar figure sitting on the couch, asleep. Atsushi…
Then her gaze went to the two empty bowls of soup on the table next to the couch— the two of them had put their bowls there when they had finished eating. The soup had been really good. She absentmindedly wondered where Dazai had gotten it. But hadn’t he been pretty busy taking care of the two to actually have time to make a proper bowl of soup? Oh, right, hadn’t Kunikida been here at some point? That seemed right to her tired mind at the moment.
Though, while she did feel tired and had a minor headache, she did actually feel a lot better than she did yesterday. Huh. She supposed that rest actually could be very helpful when you were sick. Before all this, she would always just work anyways, even if it hurt to. She’d never had to do much in the Port Mafia, anyways… Just… Answer the phone and… watch…
She swallowed hard, eyes downcast for a moment. She used the warmth to her right that was practically radiating from Atsushi to ground herself and snap herself out of those thoughts.
Now was not the time.
…
Thud!
The soft noise echoed faintly through the secluded area that was the apartment, ringing quietly in Kyouka’s ears as she, albeit sluggishly, perked up slightly. She looked to her left. Had that come from the kitchenette? But what had fallen? It hadn’t sounded like any sort of dishes or utensils or any of the usual things that you would usually find in a kitchen…
It sounded softer, like something falling but muffled by a fabric of sorts. Like, if Kyouka were to fall right now, it would sound softer due to her clothing.
Clothing.
That actually sounded decently accurate to the sound she’d heard from the kitchenette. But Dazai and Atsushi were the only other people here, so it couldn’t have been them, right? Atsushi was right here, and Dazai was probably in another room. Kyouka thought she might’ve seen him run to the bathroom earlier.
Not even looking back at Atsushi, she gently nudged the boy, her sharpened azure eyes fixed on the door to their small kitchen, fingers subconsciously gripping the baggy sleeve of her kimono as she stared intently.
A soft groan was heard beside her as Atsusi stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering as they opened. He blinked, glancing at Kyouka and tilting his head in a way reminiscent of a confused or curious dog. Heh. Atsushi would’ve hated that comparison.
Atsushi groggily blinked at her, his eyes reflecting the light as he looked at her’s, which were still fixed on the door. He raised an eyebrow.
“K-Kyouka-chan?”
He asked, voice still soft and a bit hoarse from sleep. Kyouka just nodded to silently acknowlege his presence, but she said nothing in response.
Atsushi was silent for a moment. Kyouka felt his eyes on her, watching her every move with a hint of concern hidden in that softened gaze. He always seemed worried whenever she acted a bit off. It… It made her feel… wanted. Appreciated. Loved.
She let out a soft exhale, still staring at the door to the kitchenette— the door that was usually opened, but now only cracked open slightly, a bit of light filtering out of it from that space between the door and the wall. No noise was coming from the room. Just complete silence. When Kyouka pricked her ears, she could’ve sworn that she heard faint, shaky breathing. Must’ve been her imagination— the bathroom light was still on.
“Someone’s in the kitchen I think.” She answered truthfully, expression devoid of any emotion as she stared blankly at the door.
Atsushi blinked, physically recoiling. “Wh— What?!”
Okay. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say right now. But at least it was the truth! Well, maybe the truth. She actually wasn’t quite sure. Hence why she said “I think.” She wasn’t wrong to say that, right?
…Maybe she should just learn to be a little bit less… blunt… She had a feeling that Atsushi would appreciate that.
“Th-there’s… someone in the kitchen…?”
Atsushi whispered in horror. Kyouka made a quiet, “mmhm” which only served to freak Atsushi out more, apparently…. …oops…
Atsushi processed that, and then suddenly shot right up, legs wobbling ever so slightly. Kyouka blinked, looking up at him. At least he didn’t fall over. He seemed to be feeling a bit better, too.
Following suit, Kyouka silently got to her feet, walking after Atsushi in no rush. She knew where she kept her blade if needed. Dazai had also made a comment one time about Atsushi being her fluffy little bodyguard.
Speaking of Dazai—
“Dazai-san?!”
Atsushi exclaimed, eyes widening. He ran forward, almost tripping over his own feet in the process, accidentally falling onto his knees in front of the limp body that laid on the ground, unmoving.
Kyouka’s eyes widened a fraction. Her legs moved on their own, silently urging her forward, forward towards the unmistakable figure that laid curled on the ground:
Dazai.
She kneeled down next to Atsushi, then, her body still acting on its own, she reached out for his wrist gently feeling got a pulse.
…
It was a bit sluggish, faint, but still there. She nodded silently, and Atsushi let out a soft breath of relief, slumping a bit. Kyouka just silently watched.
They were both quiet for a moment. Atsushi looked a bit traumatized (the poor boy), but she knew he was just glad that Dazai was okay.
The tension in the room was so thick that you could cut it with a knife— Kyouka usually wouldn’t mind how silent it was, but this was… a different kind of silence. …a scared, worried type of silence. She didn’t think she liked it.
Finally, Atsushi’s voice hesitantly cut through the silence, soft and almost inaudible.
“D-do you… think he’s okay…?”
Kyouka nodded sagely, not looking towards Atsushi as she spoke quietly.
“He’s okay. He just passed out.”
She replied calmly. Atsushi audibly swallowed. Damnit, why did she keep saying the wrong things…? But… at least reassuring him that he was okay seemed to help out a bit in calming him down.
“…Why do you think he passed out…?” Atsushi asked eventually, his gaze finally breaking away from Dazai’s form and landing on Kyouka.
Kyouka said nothing, instead reaching out and brushing Dazai’s bangs out of his face, putting the back of her hand against his forehead. Warm. Far too warm…
“He has a high fever.” She replied quietly. Atsushi looked worried about his mentor, and Kyouka understood why. Dazai had saved him that day. And, now that she thought of it, by extension, he’d saved her, too.
She looked back at Dazai for a moment. Then she spotted his phone, held loosely in his hand. “Hmm.” She reached out and grabbed it, gently slipping it out of his hand. Atsushi’s eyes widened.
“K-Kyouka-chan!” He yelped, probably not having expected her to just… grab it like that.
“It’s unlocked.”
She said with a shrug. It was, indeed unlocked. Atsushi sputtered uselessly.
“Th-that makes it worse!”
Though, he did, very hesitantly, lean over her shoulder to get a better look. The screen was displaying Dazai’s contacts, and the one he was currently clicked on was…. “Slug”?
Atsushi blinked dumbly. Kyouka just looked thoughtful… Slug…? Who did Dazai call “Slug” and why? Was it just a normal insult for him and… whoever Slug was? Probably another victim of Dazai’s antics.
Eyes scanning the recent texts, Kyouka realized that all of the most recent ones were from “Slug.”
“Oi Dazai, you busy tonight?” (Sent yesterday.)
“Come on, answer the damn phone.” (Sent yesterday.)
“Where the hell are you?” (Sent yesterday.)
“Are you ignoring me or just being lazy?” (Sent yesterday.)
“Damn you.”
“You thinking about answering your phone anytime soon, mackerel?” (Sent at 8:32 AM.)
“I’m not worried, just annoyed.” (Sent at 9:01 AM.)
“I swear, I’m gonna call your damn Agency fuckers.” (Sent at 9:21 AM.)
“Hello?” (Sent at 9:46 AM.)
“?” (Sent at 10:00 AM.)
…
Atsushi and Kyouka stared for a moment. Then they locked eyes.
Atsushi swallowed. “Whoever ‘Slug’ is, I guess they really cared about Dazai…”
Kyouka nodded, then she tapped the call button without further thought. Atsushi sputtered again from beside her.
“K-Kyouka-chan, you can’t just—”
“Oi, Mackerel, where the hell have you been?! You haven’t been replying to any of my—”
“Chuuya-san?!” Atsushi yelped out in disbelief. Kyouka blinked. Chuuya Nakahara, Port Mafia Executive… Akutagawa’s mentor… She swallowed.
“Weretiger kid? Where the hell’s Dazai?”
Chuuya asked, the confusion evident in his voice. There was a hint of something resembling worry at the latter half of his question, though it was being poorly hidden.
“H-he, uh…”
Atsushi slowly trailed off, eyebrows furrowing in concern for the unconscious man in front of him. Kyouka shook her head, responding for him.
“He passed out in our apartment. He has a high fever.”
She said, ignoring Chuuuya’s sudden strangled noise of surprise.
“He what??” A deep, irritated sigh with an undertone of concern. “Alright. Where the hell’s your apartment? Actually, nevermind. I’m on my way.”
“W-Wait, what does that—”
Chuuya hung up before Atsushi could finish his sentence. For a moment, there was silence. Atsushi slowly glanced at Kyouka, and then back at the phone.
“Dazai is friends with… the Port Mafia Executive… Nakahara Chuuya…”
He said slowly, the disbelief in his tone clear as crystal as Kyouka listened intently, even if she didn’t show it. It was… surprising, to say the least. But Kyouka had always had suspicions about Dazai’s Mafia connections, but now there was just a bit more evidence than before. Also, the question still stood— why is Chuuya’s contact name listed as “Slug” here??
Anyways, onto more important matters… Dazai.
Kyouka looked him over one last time, just to make sure that there was nothing she didn’t notice, and so that she could tell Chuuya once he got here.
His hand were shaking ever so slightly, but it was hardly noticeable, and his eyebrows were furrowed a small bit, even in sleep. His fingers were notably twitching, as if trying to grab onto something— or someone— that wasn’t there. Kyouka’s own eyerows furrowed slightly, her eyes tracing every noticed and unnoticed detail diligantly. She could be very detail oriented when she needed to be, after all.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Atsushi silently reaching out, gently starting to roll Dazai onto his back. Kyouka helped as well, and they both rolled the older man over slightly. He was light, even while just being dead weight, and Kyouka absentmindedly wonder when the last time he’d eaten a proper meal that wasn’t crab was. Though, she knew that if she ever asked, he would just dodge the question. Like he always did when asked something like that... Most everyone fell for the trick. But she never did. Though, she had never up and confronted him about it— that was his own business, not her’s.
But now… it kind of felt like her business now. Now that he’d already passed out from either a terrible fever or exhaustion, and now that he’d taken care of them while they weren’t doing so hot, and now thatshe realized just how underweight he was… She realized that maybe, just maybe… He needed help. And that… she, Atsushi, and everyone else… could maybe give him that help.
Silently, Kyouka turned her attention to Atsushi, tilting her head slightly as she stared blankly at him.
“When is Chuuya-san going to get h—?”
Bang bang bang!
Atsushi flinched. Kyouka did not.
Instead, she quietly glanced towards the door, standing up with hardly a sound and slowly walking over to the door, which she opened in a fluid motion.
There stood a relatively short and impatient seeming hat-wearing ginger, who was tapping his foot and shifting his weight between legs over and over again. His head snapped up when the door opened, and his eyes, blue like the Atlantic, met Kyouka’s. Chuuya Nakahara, the Port Mafia’s most devastatingly powerful ability user.
Chuuya let out a small breath, walking right past Kyouka, muttering a small, “It’s about time…” as he did so.
He looked at Dazai, who was just lying flat on his back, eyebrows furrowed… And for a moment, Chuuya’s eyes showed a trace of… concern. But it went away as quick as it came… Letting out a soft sigh, Chuuya knelt down next to Dazai’s prone form, letting his arms slip under the slightly younger man, and he lifted him up bridal style. Dazai’s head rested limply against the ginger’s chest, the tension in his body relieving slightly.
Atsushi and Kyouka just watched, Atsushi blinking dumbly, while Kyouka just seemed lost in thought. Atsushi opened his mouth to speak, but Chuuya spoke up first.
“Alright, where the hell do you two keep your damn couch?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I— err, well, it’s—” Atsushi stammered, seeming nervous about suddenly being asked a question.
“It’s in the room to the right.” Kyouka said flatly, pointing to a door.
Chuuya just blinked. Then he turned around and walked through the door. Kyouka was pretty sure that he called them weirdos, but she didn’t really care about that right now. Instead, she just followed behind him silently. Atsushi followed close behind her.
Spotting the couch, Chuuya walked over to it, bending down slightly and setting Dazai down on it. Dazai stirred slightly, eyebrows furrowing again, probably upset about no longer being with Chuuya. Chuuya just huffed.
“Alright, calm down you whiny bastard, it’s only for a little bit.” He said gruffly, shaking his head slightly.
Kyouka just watched the situation curiously, and Atsushi stood beside her, looking confused out of his mind.
These two seemed… oddly close.
And “it’s only for a little bit.”… The hell was that supposed to mean?? Whatever…
Chuuya glanced at the two of them, expression slightly irritated, though Kyouka could tell that it wasn’t fully real. Damn, was this guy bad at masking his emotions…
“I’m assuming that you both got sick first, and he followed right after?” He asked, unamused.
Atsushi blinked, confused, and he tilted his head. “Yeah. How’d you know…?”
“This idiot never gets sick on his own, but if someone else is sick, he’ll catch it in less than two days.”
Chuuya explained briefly, crossing his arms and nudging Dazai with his knee. Atsushi almost protested at that, but seemed to stop himself.
“…How do you two know each other?” He asked instead. Chuuya raised an eyebrow.
“Did he seriously never tell you?”
“Uh… No?”
“Damn.”
…
“Are… you gonna tell us?”
“No.”
“Wha—”
Chuuya just sighed, plopping down onto the couch beside Dazai. “He probably has a reason for not telling you, y’know.” A pause. Then he added, “And he’s hidden a lot from you, believe it or not.”
Just a small hint at the truth, nothing more— trying to keep them guessing. And also a seed that sprouted into many, many questions being directed at Dazai— payback on Chuuya’s part, probably.
Chuuya raised an eyebrow at them for probably the third time. "You just gonna stand there?"
"Yes." Kyouka replied blandly. Chuuya sighed quietly, mainly to himself than anyone else. He looked at Dazai for a moment, his gaze lingering a little bit longer than it was supposed to before he met Kyouka's gaze again, glancing between the two teens.
"You two are probably still sick then, eh?"
“A-a little bit…” Atsushi admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Chuuya shook his head, waving a hand at them.
“Just… Go lay down or something, ‘kay?”
They both nodded, Atsushi being a bit too frightened by the Mafia Executive, and Kyouka knowing that Chuuya probably just wanted some alone time with Dazai for a bit, if you will. Then the two of them walked off towards their respective rooms silently and obediently.
As she walked away, Kyouka heard Chuuya murmur something to Dazai. Just a soft, gentle:
“What am I going to do with you, Mackerel…”