Work Text:
Pain is the beginning and the end of everything. No one can enter this world without pain and no one can leave without it either. Pain is quintessential to our survival and our extinction. Some feel pain in its harshest form and others are almost immune to it. In the end, pain is just a sensation. A feeling. A state of mind.
It's also what Chuuya feels blossoming on his arm as he hides underneath the bar counter. He stays as quiet as possible, pressing his ear against the wood to eavesdrop on the conversation.
“Hey, you over there. In the trench coat,” a gruff voice demands. “You see a guy running in here with a cut on his arm?”
“Hmm… I don't know. What did he look like?” If speaking could be music, this man's voice would be a flute ensemble.
“Bright red hair, very short,” the horribly off-tune voice says.
Did he just describe Chuuya as short? Rude.
“Actually, I did see someone like that run past here. But he didn’t enter. Maybe try looking in the bar a few blocks down?” Chuuya must admit, the man tells a convincing lie. After all, who wouldn't have noticed him as he ran under the counter with a bloody arm, a torn piece of Tachihara’s shirt wrapped around it?
Chuuya feels the vibrations as the ruffian stomps off in resignation and closes his eyes to let out a huge sigh of relief, bloody arm forgotten momentarily.
As he opens them, he sees his supposed ‘saviour’. His mop of brown hair flops from left to right as he leans over the counter to look at him with a lopsided smile. “Yoo-hoo! It's okay to come out now.”
Chuuya braces himself against a nearby stool and stands up, wobbling slightly before sitting on it. The last thing on his agenda is falling over in front of this guy.
They look at each other, the silence dragging on. Mystery guy's handsome. Or maybe that's just Chuuya’s vision after all the blood loss. A tan trench coat rests on his shoulders and his hand plays with a few pills, drink untouched. But the one feature Chuuya can’t ignore is that he’s wrapped in bandages that start from his neck and end God knows where. He looks at him with brown eyes that seem to smile all on their own.
“Um… thanks. For, you know, saving me. You could've just given me away and not get involved, but you lied so I really appreciate that.”
Mystery guy smiles. “Mind telling me why that goon is chasing you?”
“That asshole was groping my friend at a bar nearby, so I grabbed the closest bottle of vodka and smashed it on his arm. A piece of it ricocheted and hit mine as well.” Chuuya motions in the general direction of the wound.
“And then you made a break for it?” he smirks.
Chuuya smiles, “And then I made a break for it.”
He reaches a hand across the counter. Chuuya notices a sliver of a scar peek through the bandages. “Dazai. My name's Dazai Osamu.” He lifts an inquisitive eyebrow, “And yours?”
Chuuya reaches out with his uninjured arm and shakes his hand. “I'm Nakahara Chuuya. But most people call me just Chuuya.”
“Where’s your friend now, ‘just Chuuya’?” Dazai crosses his arms on the counter and props his chin up on it like Chuuya was the most interesting person in the vicinity, which he is, since the bar is completely empty.
Chuuya tries to mimic Dazai's posture but fails miserably. “Why’s this bar so empty, Dazai?”
“I asked my question first,” Dazai smirks, eyebrows wiggling smugly.
Chuuya sighs. “Fine. Gin was just too shocked by the whole thing. I ran away to distract the thug and her boyfriend, Tachihara, took her back home, so she’ll be okay. Tachihara? Well, I don’t know. I might yell at him later for being an idiot.”
Dazai laughs. It’s a melodious sound that rings throughout the bar, bouncing off the wood, filling the place with life. “The bar’s actually closed. I’m just a regular patron so the owner lets me have the place to myself every other Sunday night.”
“All by yourself? Isn’t that boring?”
“I don’t mind the quiet. It lets me think. About life. What it means to be alive…”
He trails off, staring wistfully at his drink bringing one hand up to push the ice cubes, the other one still twirling the pills between his fingers.
A part of Chuuya wants to reach out and take the pills away from Dazai. Afraid of what they might entail. But does he have the right as a stranger who makes assumptions?
“Dazai… do you…” Chuuya starts to reach out with his injured arm.
Dazai jumps up, throwing the pills over his shoulder. Chuuya jumps in his seat, startled by the sudden movement. Dazai smiles at Chuuya, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. Pointing at the gash on Chuuya’s arm, he says, “You should get that checked out.”
“Uh… yeah…” Chuuya laughs and then winces as the motion causes a new wave of pain.
Dazai slowly holds Chuuya’s hand in both of his, the twinkle that was momentarily gone is back now. “I know a hospital nearby. Come on, I’ll take you there!”
“Wait — no!”
*
“Dazai! Why are you here again?” A doctor reprimands him as soon as he steps foot in the reception. She immediately scans over him with her eyes as if checking for injuries.
“Dr. Yosano! So nice to see you!” Dazai greets her jovially like he’s not just stepping into a busy hospital at quarter past midnight with an injured man.
Before she can lecture him, Dazai points at Chuuya, “Dr. Yosano, this is Chuuya. Chuuya, Dr. Yosano.”
Chuuya offers a weak smile and waves with the hand not currently in Dazai’s grasp. “Hey.”
She smiles at him, a lock of violet hair falling into her face. “Nice to meet you, Chuuya.” Her eyes widen when she notices the blood. “Oh no. What happened? Dazai —”
Dazai raises his hand in a placating gesture and says, “No, Dr. Yosano it wasn’t my fault. I’m a bit insulted you would think so low of me!” He drapes his arm across his eyes, pretending to be wounded by the implication.
“The important thing is that Chuuya needs help.”
She nods, beckoning them to follow her into a small white room with minimal furniture. Chuuya sits on the bed as Dazai drags out a chair to his left and takes a seat.
“One second, Chuuya. I’ll be back with the painkillers and stitching equipment,” Dr. Yosano says, then disappears down the hallway.
At this, the panic hits Chuuya with full force, complexion paling by the second. Needles? He can do hospitals. But he can't, under any circumstances, do needles. Nope. He's out.
Chuuya starts to get up, but a hand circles his wrist softly. It’s Dazai. “No Chuuya. You need to get treated for your wound.” His tone is gentle but firm in its conviction. “I can’t bear to let you go knowing that you’re hurt.”
“Dazai, you don’t understand.” Chuuya can’t look at Dazai's eyes as his voice shakes. “I’m terrified of needles. I can’t —”
“Yes, you can.” Dazai squeezes his shoulder. “And I’ll be right here with you. You won’t even have time to think about what she’s doing.”
Chuuya wants to leave, but at the same time, he couldn't walk home in a state like this. Plus he wants to know more about Dazai. He closes his eyes, trying to trap any tears threatening to fall. One slips away, but a warm finger brushes it off his cheek.
“Okay. I’ll do it,” he says.
Chuuya opens his eyes to see a blurry Dazai smiling from ear to ear. “Yay! Go, Chuuya! I’m so proud of you.”
“But only if you answer a question for me.”
“Ask me anything.”
“Why did all the nurses and doctors we passed by in the hallway know your name?”
Dazai looks down at his lap, smiling to himself like he’s the only one who knows a secret. “I’m just a really clumsy fool. So, I tend to get hurt more often than others.”
Chuuya tries to see his expression, but Dazai just lifts his head and lets out a hollow laugh. “You’d think with how much I hate pain, I would be more careful.”
There’s a slight pink dusting Dazai’s cheeks as he avoids blue eyes. Something tells Chuuya that it's not the whole truth, but he has no right as a stranger to pry. “Thank you for telling me, Dazai,” Chuuya says, fluffing Dazai’s soft brown hair. “I really appreciate it.”
Dazai gives him a sheepish smile, messing up Chuuya’s fiery locks in return.
“Hey!” he says. Dazai laughs, and it fills Chuuya with more confidence to take on what’s next.
Dr. Yosano returns with, in Chuuya’s opinion, a variety of torture devices to wreak hell upon the poor patients held captive in this hospital. But that’s probably him over-exaggerating.
She holds up a syringe filled with a translucent liquid, the sweet smile on her face not matching the epitome of pain she held in her hand. “This, dear Chuuya, is a painkiller. I’ll have to administer it to you before getting to work on your arm. It should numb the area around your wound in about five minutes.”
Chuuya’s eyes widen in horror, body automatically scooting as far away as possible, which isn’t that far seeing as he slams into the headboard not a second later. Dazai chuckles, much to his chagrin. And here Chuuya thought Dazai was going to be supportive.
“It’s not funny, Dazai!” Chuuya smacks Dazai's shoulder in his delirious state.
He winces and brings his hand up to rub at where Chuuya hit him. “Ow! Okay, okay.”
Dr. Yosano gets closer and closer and the needle gets sharper and sharper. “Please…” Chuuya whispers, ready to struggle with all his might and bawl his eyes out.
But then a pair of arms wrap around his waist, holding him in place. Chuuya turns to his left, only to bump noses with Dazai.
“You looked like you could use a hug.” Dazai's whispered words ghost over Chuuya’s lips as he presses his nose onto Chuuya’s softly once again. Chuuya is too preoccupied with how close they are to notice what Dr. Yosano is doing.
He feels the sharp sting of the needle sinking into his arm and yelps, a few tears fall down his eyes, but Dazai just holds him tighter, telling him how brave he is, how strong he is.
“Oh no!” Dr. Yosano exclaims in a panic. Her voice sounds fainter than it should be. “I’ve administered the wrong painkiller.”
“What?” Dazai says as tries to stand up voice laced with the slightest bit of rage. Chuuya clings to him like a koala, feeling himself get drowsier by the second. “What did you do, Akiko?”
Chuuya feels light-headed and carefree, the pain slowly leaving him. Why does he feel like it’s more of Dazai’s doing than the anesthetic rushing through his system? Is it because Dazai's holding onto him despite how heavy he must be? Or is it because of the amount of compassion Dazai's shown even if Chuuya has no right to deserve it as a stranger? Does Dazai think of him as a stranger? Is Dazai a stranger to him?
As Chuuya slips away from consciousness, he hears someone calling out to him. Their voice sounds like a flute being played as the summer breeze carries its tune from ear to ear. He can’t make out what they’re saying so he should just let them know he's okay before he goes to sleep.
“Da… zai...”
Chuuya swears he’ll dream of them conquering a tower of needles together.
*
Chuuya doesn't know what time it is when he wakes up from his slumber, but his senses are overloaded with the smell of alcohol and bandages. His eyes crack open a bit, spotting Dazai wrapping his wrist in them. It’s the same one with the scar on it. Chuuya continues pretending to sleep, eyes open just enough to see what’s going on.
Dazai then switches to the other wrist. There’s a newer, far bloodier cut on it. Chuuya’s throat clogs up at the idea of Dazai slitting it after Chuuya passed out. He wants to know why Dazai would do such a thing to himself, but he's paralyzed by the thought that it’s his fault.
Now both wrists bandaged, Dazai leans towards Chuuya’s sleeping form, brushing Chuuya’s hair off his forehead before patting his head and yawning.
Chuuya takes this as a cue to get up. He rubs his eyes, stiffening at the dull throbbing of his right arm. It’s covered in bandages too.
“Look, we match,” Dazai says, smiling softly. He has bags under his eyes.
Chuuya glances at his wrists, trying his best to not give away his sadness. “Yeah.”
Chuuya’s a stranger. He doesn't have the right to pry, but he can't stand watching from the sidelines any longer.
Chuuya throws caution to the summer breeze. It dances to the tune of the flute. “Dazai, how did you get those injuries?”
Dazai's smile drops, and he freezes. Chuuya looks into brown eyes only to be met with a vacancy. Dazai closes them as his lips tremble.
Chuuya’s crossed the line. He's asked too much. He tries to call caution back, but it’s too enchanted by the music to hear him.
Dazai opens his eyes. They’re shining with unshed tears and a part of Chuuya breaks. “You really want to know, Chuuya?”
Chuuya nods, firm in his resolution. He wants to know. He's done with being just strangers.
Dazai reaches out, waiting patiently for Chuuya to put his hand in his before leading him out of the room and up the stairs to the roof of the hospital.
The air is just warm enough for it to be comfortable. Dazai leads Chuuya to the edge and Chuuya’s heart nearly jumps out of his chest, but Dazai just sprawls across the cement a few feet away from it. He pats the space next to him and Chuuya lies down.
Dazai takes a deep breath and brings his arms above his head as Chuuya’s lay by his sides. The silent stretches on for a few more seconds before Dazai breaks it by clearing his throat.
“You know… this is the only time I’ve not wanted to fling myself off a roof and it’s probably because you’re with me.”
Chuuya’s breath hitches at Dazai's declaration, but he lets him continue.
“And it’s not because ‘someone else’ is with me on the roof. It’s because you’re with me. I wonder why?”
Chuuya turns to face him, but Dazai’s still looking at the stars.
“I’ve always wondered why people continue to live even when they’re in pain. Even when they’re suffering. Wouldn’t it be better to just end it all?”
“Are you in pain, Dazai?”
He looks beautiful, bathed in the ethereal glow of the moonlight, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“To answer your question, Chuuya. Yes, I did hurt myself and yes, I am in pain. Now why I hurt myself despite being in pain… Well, physical pain is nothing compared to the pain you cannot see, so I distract myself with it.”
“Dazai…” Chuuya shuffles closer to him and gives him a half hug. Dazai turns into the hug and brings his arms around Chuuya.
“Dazai. Kind and beautiful Dazai. You can’t give up now. You will find a reason to live. You’ve just been searching for it alone all this time. That’s why it’s taking you so long.”
Chuuya pours all his positive energy into the smile he gives Dazai. “You need someone to help you in your quest. And I just happen to know the perfect one for the job.”
A stray tear falls down Dazai’s cheek. Chuuya brushes it away with his finger. Dazai's smile is radiant as he whispers, “I wonder who that is.”
Avoiding pain is futile.
It’s inevitable in our lives after all.
Yet, we still keep on living.
Because what else are painkillers for?