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The first thing Chuuya saw when Dazai grabbed his wrist was Akutagawa lying on the ground in a pool of blood.
His legs gave out from underneath him. He coughed up blood. Dazai spun him around so that he was facing away from Akutagawa. Chuuya clawed at his arms, trying to get away, but Corruption had taken his strength.
“Chuuya,” Dazai said. “Rest.”
“What--” Chuuya choked on more blood and coughed again. Red splattered on Dazai’s shirt and coat. “What--”
“Nothing,” Dazai said.
Chuuya used the last of his strength to lift his head so he could see Dazai’s face. The edges of his vision started to grow dark. Dazai’s eyes were cold. Impenetrable.
He passed out.
*
Chuuya knew when people were keeping things from him. No one stayed in his room for long. Even Kouyou, who usually made a point of visiting, had seen him once when he woke up and then hadn’t come back. Dazai wasn’t around, though that wasn’t unexpected. Now that he was in the ADA, he was never there when Chuuya woke up.
But that didn’t explain why Dazai hadn’t answered his texts. No one had answered his texts. Chuuya was practically clawing at the walls three days into his recovery.
He had a feeling he knew what had happened, but his memories were hazy at best. Especially after Corruption, he found it hard to distinguish between memories and nightmares. Most of the time, the images that caused him to wake up screaming were nightmares. But occasionally, a memory would slip in.
He’d done horrible things while under Corruption. Even if most of those nightmares were just his imagination running wild, Chuuya knew he was capable of every single thing his mind imagined him doing.
By the time he was released, he felt incredibly on edge. He would have normally tried to exercise to work off his feelings, but his body was still recovering. The only thing he had the strength for was pouring himself a glass of water, drinking it, and going to bed.
The enemy had been destroyed. Nothing else moved, but Chuuya still wanted to destroy. All that power needed an outlet, and he spun around, looking for a new target. Something dark moved in the corner of his vision and he rushed towards it.
“Chuuya!”
Part of him knew he should recognize and respond to that word. The part of him in control now didn't comprehend the sound at all for anything except a distraction from his target. The other person turned, and something black rushed at Chuuya, trying to block his advance.
Chuuya tore it apart with his hands and swiped at his adversary’s stomach.
He felt cloth and skin tear, but he wanted more. He raised his other arm, only for a warm hand to close around his wrist and drag him back, spinning him around so quickly that by the time he came back to himself, he couldn't see what he'd done.
Chuuya woke up screaming at the memory, if it was a memory at all. He doubled over, shaking and gasping for air.
Only two people would know. Akutagawa would have come to see Chuuya if he wanted to talk about it, or perhaps he couldn't if he was recovering. Dazai hadn't come to see Chuuya, but he'd seen everything.
Chuuya grabbed his phone.
*
Dazai had been expecting Chuuya’s call. As much as he hoped it wouldn't happen, and that he wouldn't have to be the one to deal with it, he was aware that he was the one person who had seen everything and come out unscathed.
He hadn't expected Chuuya to attack Akutagawa. He hadn't expected Akutagawa to try to calm Chuuya down, and it only occurred to Dazai later that Akutagawa had never seen Chuuya in his Corrupted state. Of course he would try to bring Chuuya out of it.
He should have been briefed, but they hadn't planned on using Corruption.
It wasn't the first time that Chuuya had injured or killed someone on his own side, and it was hard to hide this from him when he did. Dazai had found Chuuya’s habit of knowing who all of his subordinates were annoying, especially when he couldn't lie about what Corruption had cost them. Chuuya noticed who was gone. He always noticed.
He'd never injured someone more than an acquaintance. He'd never managed to land a hit on Dazai.
When Dazai picked up the phone, Chuuya’s voice sound hoarse. “I need you to tell me what happened.”
“What do you mean, what happened?” He'd hoped that by shielding Akutagawa from view, Chuuya wouldn't suspect a thing. But clearly, that hadn't worked if he was calling.
“Cut the shit,” Chuuya hissed. “Come over.”
“Why?”
“This isn't a phone conversation.”
That was true. But the idea of having to deal with Chuuya’s reaction in person made Dazai’s skin crawl. It was easier when he'd delivered news while Chuuya was in the infirmary, back when they were partners. Dazai could just leave the room after, and he did.
“Fine,” he said, “but I'm not staying long.” He hung up.
It was twenty minutes before Dazai showed up at Chuuya’s apartment. Chuuya answered the door looking awful. His skin was pale and every exposed part was bruised, the result of Corruption. What wasn't bruised was bandaged. It didn't help that he hadn't bothered to change out of his pajama shirt.
That tipped Dazai off that Chuuya was already in a bad state of mind. He usually paid more attention to his appearance, even around people he knew well.
“Sit,” Chuuya said. “Couch or kitchen, I don't care.”
Dazai chose the kitchen. Sitting at the counter was less comfortable than the couch, and there would be space in-between him and Chuuya.
Slowly, Chuuya followed Dazai and sat opposite him. His expression was guarded, like he was bracing for the news. He always looked like that before Dazai told him what he'd done during Corruption.
“You destroyed our adversaries as usual,” Dazai said, “and pretty quickly. But as you know, we hadn't planned on using Corruption. I never got the chance to brief the others about it.”
He heard Chuuya inhale sharply. His hands were clasped together on the counter, so tightly that his knuckles looked bloodless.
“Akutagawa tried to snap you out of it before I got there,” Dazai said. “I tried to distract you, but you were completely focused on him. You tore into his stomach. It was a nasty wound. He would've bled out if we didn't have our getaway nearby. It did require surgery, so he'd probably still recovering.”
Chuuya’s face had gone white. The nails of one hand were digging into the back of the other, and Dazai noticed a droplet of blood trailing down his skin.
He didn't meet Chuuya’s eyes.
“Is that everything you wanted to know?”
Chuuya didn't respond.
“I'll be going, then.”
In the past, it hadn't been hard to just walk out and leave Chuuya to his feelings. Dazai wasn't sure why his legs felt heavy, why there was a strange uneasiness making his chest feel tight, why he hesitated when he opened the door even though he managed to step outside and breathe in the cold night air. It didn't refresh him.
Maybe it was the severity of Chuuya’s reaction. Maybe the years apart made this situation seem strange to him.
Maybe it felt wrong now, to leave someone in distress behind without at least asking if they were okay.
That last possibility was something Dazai learned from the Agency, even though he'd experienced it earlier with Chuuya. Chuuya would try to look after him until Dazai became an Executive and pushed him away almost completely. With the Agency, people were concerned about each other, and about him.
Kunikida would, in his own way, try to figure out what was wrong on days where Dazai couldn't do much more than lay on the office couch, or when he slipped away from Agency gatherings. He didn't push too hard, but he didn't ignore it, either. None of them did. Dazai found himself trying to do the same with the others, even if his efforts were clumsy and sometimes badly executed.
Chuuya wasn't his partner anymore. Chuuya was a piece of a past he wanted to leave behind. Chuuya was also a bright spot in that past, and Chuuya had always cared even when he claimed not to.
Dazai wouldn't be a good comfort, but he could try. After all, he claimed that he was trying to be a better man. Seemingly small things like this also mattered as much as saving people from death.
He took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. Part of his brain insisted that this wasn't his job. But being a good man meant doing things out of kindness and caring, not because it was necessary or expected. Because it was the right thing to do.
He opened the door and stepped inside.
Chuuya wasn't in the kitchen.
Dazai froze. Should he just leave anyway? Maybe Chuuya had gone back to sleep.
He knew as soon as he thought it that this was ridiculous. Chuuya wouldn't be able to sleep after that news.
He started down the hall. Light spilled from the bathroom into the hallway, and Dazai called out “Chuuya?” As a courtesy to warn him before he came in.
Chuuya was standing by the sink, pressing a tissue to his hand. The bleeding hand, Dazai thought. He stepped inside. The bathroom carried the faint smell of bile, like Chuuya had been sick. He probably had.
Before Dazai could say anything, Chuuya turned and pushed past him, heading for his room. Dazai grabbed his arm as he passed, and Chuuya yanked it away, whirling around.
“I want to talk,” he said.
“Since when do you want to talk?” Chuuya snapped. “Is there something you forgot to tell me? More shit I did?”
“No.”
Chuuya turned and headed towards the living room. Dazai followed, not sure how to approach this.
Chuuya clearly didn't know how to approach this either, because he stopped in the middle of the room and turned around, still pressing the tissue to his injured hand.
“What?”
“I wanted to see if you were okay.” Each word felt like sand in Dazai’s throat. They sounded so unnatural.
Chuuya picked up on it too, because he laughed, a hysterical edge to the sound, and shook his head. “What the fuck do you think?”
“I figured you weren't.”
“Since when do you care?”
“Since…” Dazai didn't want to say since he'd left the Mafia, or that he'd had to force himself into this and he was still well on his way to regretting it.
“I'll be fine,” Chuuya said, his words clipped.
This time Dazai laughed. “You're a terrible liar, Chuuya, and we both know you care too much to just brush something like this off.”
“Right,” Chuuya said. “I'm not you.”
Dazai opened his mouth, but then Chuuya continued, “I'm worse than you. I don't even remember the shit I do. I nearly killed Akutagawa without blinking an eye. And you,” he pointed at Dazai, “wanted to hide it from me. You all did.”
Dazai was stunned. There were tears running down Chuuya’s face, though he had the feeling Chuuya didn't even realize it.
“This is the reason,” he said, trying to keep his own voice even. “Because you would react like this.”
“You know every single fucking crime you've committed,” Chuuya snarled. “Why shouldn't I know exactly the kind of monster I am.”
“You're not-”
“I am. I can't fucking control my own Ability,” Chuuya’s voice broke, “and even seeing the possibility of hurting someone I care about doesn't snap me out of it, and it's part of me. Sometimes I crave using it, even though I hate it, and I can't stop thinking about it. That's the worst part.”
Dazai didn't know what to say. Chuuya sounded vicious, but all of that viciousness was directed inwards. Dazai knew what to do with Chuuya’s anger when Chuuya was angry at Dazai. He didn't know what to do with Chuuya’s anger towards himself at all.
“That's all I am to the Mafia, anyway,” Chuuya continued. “A killing machine. That's all I'm good for. The things the Mafia values most from me, even without Corruption, are what I use to destroy other people. To hurt them. To kill them.
“Listen,” Dazai said, even though he didn't know what he would say. He just needed Chuuya to stop talking. It was overwhelming. These words, these emotions, stronger and more negative than he'd ever heard from Chuuya before, were too much.
“Corruption...sometimes...doesn't feel that different,” Chuuya choked out, and then he clapped a hand over his mouth and sank onto the couch.
Dazai needed to untangle everything Chuuya was saying, and how he was saying it, and to come up with an appropriate response, but it was all so much. Chuuya was coming dangerously close to a pessimism Dazai had once possessed, if he hadn't gotten there already, and Dazai had barely started to unravel his own issues. He wanted to run away from Chuuya’s.
He noticed Chuuya was shaking.
His breath caught.
He knelt in front of Chuuya, taking his hands. “Chuuya, look at me.”
Chuuya’s eyes were wide. Scared. Not really seeing Dazai but looking past him.
“Snap out of it,” Dazai said.
Chuuya let out a choked laugh.
“I don't want this.”
“Want what?” Dazai asked.
“I don't know.” Chuuya’s voice sounded small, like when they were children and he was sad and lost after a mission gone wrong.
Dazai felt like a kid, too, just as lost, wanting to call someone else to come deal with the mess. But for both of them, no one had ever come. They'd had to deal with it alone.
Or with each other.
“At least you can't activate Corruption while I'm holding your hands like this, right?” Dazai tried.
He had a moment of relief when Chuuya’s lips turned up into a shaky smile, and then he laughed, but just as quickly the laugh caught in his throat and his eyes widened, and it turned into a sob, and he doubled over, shaking, gasping for air. He pulled his hands out of Dazai’s and wrapped his arms around himself.
“Fuck,” he choked. “Fuck. I--it shouldn't be this way.”
Dazai felt a sick feeling wash over him. Fear, he realized. He'd never seen Chuuya like this before. He never wanted to see Chuuya like this again.
He did what he'd seen others do and moved so that he was sitting next to Chuuya on the couch. Tentatively, he wrapped an arm around Chuuya’s shoulders. Chuuya was still shaking, but he didn't pull away.
“What shouldn't be this way?” he asked.
Chuuya shook his head. He was trying to stop crying, his teeth gritted against the noises trying to force their way out of his throat.
Dazai swallowed. If Chuuya didn't want to talk, then he shouldn't force it. He wouldn't want to be forced to talk. He felt oddly useless for once in his life.
Chuuya's shaking turned to shivering, and his breathing more or less evened out. He wiped a hand over his face.
“I should go,” Dazai said after a moment. “If that's...what you want.”
Chuuya stared at him. “You're letting me choose?” he croaked.
“It's your apartment,” Dazai said.
Chuuya looked away. “I don't want to be alone right now,” he said after a moment.
“Then you won't be.” Dazai stood up, shrugging off his coat and tossing it aside. Chuuya glanced up at him. “Come on, the bed is probably more comfortable.”
Chuuya nodded, and stood. He swayed slightly, and led the way to the bedroom. Dazai didn't like the mechanical way that Chuuya walked, almost like he was a zombie. Then again, he was probably exhausted.
Chuuya climbed into bed and sat with his back propped up against the headboard. Dazai sat next to him, doing the same.
Chuuya stared at his lap for a few minutes.
Dazai had an idea. “When we were younger I used to braid your hair. Maybe...it'll help you relax.”
Chuuya nodded slowly.
“Lay down,” Dazai said, “with your head in my lap. It'll be easier for me that way, and if you fall asleep you won't fall over.”
Chuuya shifted so that his head was resting on Dazai’s lap. Dazai heard his shaky breathing as he started to separate the strands of Chuuya’s hair. Chuuya’s breathing started to even out, and by the time the braid was done, Dazai found himself relaxing as well.
Even when Chuuya fell asleep, Dazai didn't move. He allowed himself to drift off as well.
He wanted to be there for Chuuya in the morning.