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Four o’clock in the morning was not a time that most people would usually consider a normal time to go for a walk, but Dazai Osamu had never been most people. Originally he’d wandered out of his apartment because it was a beautiful night, perfect for committing a moonlit suicide, but his path to the wharf had led him past the building where he knew Chuuya's apartment was located and he hesitated.
It had been a couple of weeks since he'd last gotten the chance to spend quality time annoying his ex-partner, suicide could be postponed for a day in favor of an activity that was almost as fun.
And that was the only reason he was doing it, for the fun of it, not because he wanted to check up on the hatrack and make sure he was doing okay or anything. He definitely did not worry and care about his old partner.
Sneaking up the stairs to Chuuya’s floor had taken him no time at all, for a place whose cost of living was so expensive, the security was pretty terrible. Then again, most places didn't base their security measures around the question 'How hard would it be for Dazai Osamu to sneak in here?' even if they really should, so it was to be expected. The lock on Chuuya’s door posed even less of a challenge, it only took a few turns of the lock pick he always kept up his sleeve for the door to click open and he couldn't help but feel a bit of disappointment, he'd hoped for at least a little challenge.
Slipping into Chuuya’s apartment, he locked the door again behind him since he was a courteous person who wouldn't want to leave unlocked and risk undesirable folks getting into the apartment; of course a sarcastic little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like a certain Chibi, whispered that he himself could be considered an undesirable guest, but he ignored it just like he usually did.
It was as he took his shoes off that he noticed something odd, there was no sign of Chuuya's own shoes in the genkan and when he turned to glance at the coat rack next to the door, there was no sign of Chuuya's coat hanging there either. He wasn't home. A sigh escaped from Dazai's lips, it wasn’t unusual for the mafia to run late-night operations, but he hadn’t counted on there being one that night.
Briefly he considered leaving and continuing on his way to the harbor but it was a cold night and if he didn’t manage to successfully drown himself he’d probably end up sick, which would just be miserable; it would be far better to wait around for Chuuya to get home and have some fun annoying him. Of course, there was no knowing just when Chuuya would get home, so he’d have to find something to keep himself occupied in the meantime.
Wandering further into Chuuya’s apartment, he glanced around; it wasn’t the first time he’d broken in, he’d shown up a couple of times before to steal Chuuya’s wine and food, and once to borrow his first aid kit, but he’d never stuck around to let his ex-partner find out or fully explored the place.
He started in the living room, eyes roving over the bookshelves that were lining the walls; it had always surprised him what a varied taste in books Chuuya had, there were equal amounts of both fiction and nonfiction lining the shelves, along with even some poetry. Some of them he recognized from back when they'd shared an apartment, a few of them were even ones he'd purchased, but there were plenty of new ones as well. He wondered how many of them Chuuya had actually read.
Moving on from the bookshelves he opened the cabinets under the tv, noting with a mix of amusement and nostalgia that Chuuya had apparently taken all of their old games and systems with them when he'd moved. Based off of the newer games mixed in among them, he still played them too; it was comforting in a way to know that even though they'd both gotten older, even though Chuuya carried a huge weight of responsibility as Mori's second, he still wasn't above coming home and playing games to relax. They'd both changed, but some things had stayed the same.
Continuing around the room he found himself scowling at the picture frames covering Chuuya's shelves, the way Chuuya felt a compulsive need to document memories was something he had never quite understood, though he'd often wondered if it had something to do with the fact that Chuuya couldn't remember much of anything before age seven. Whatever the reason for it was, looking at them filled Dazai with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia.
The first one he could see was worn and slightly faded, it showed Chuuya standing with the rest of the Sheep, big smiles on everyone's faces; the silver-haired one whose name Dazai had never cared about enough to remember, had an arm thrown over Chuuya's shoulders but to Dazai it looked more like an anchor holding him in place then a gesture of friendship. He'd been a tool to them, a weapon to be used, and Dazai was sure that even if he hadn't manipulated them into betraying Chuuya they would have eventually done so on their own anyway. It might have taken longer but at some point, they would have decided to put down the dog and invest in a fence instead.
He'd said as much to Chuuya before, which had earned him a punch in the face, but he'd seen the look in Chuuya's eyes; he wasn't a fool, he knew that they'd used him but despite that he still cared about them, still cherished the time spent among them. It was something Dazai still didn't understand, being friends with Oda and then losing him had helped him come to realize the importance of your comrades and what it was like to not want to lose them, but he didn't understand how Chuuya could care so much about people who had only used him.
It was one of the many mysteries about Chuuya he'd yet to solve.
Continuing to let his eyes roam over the picture, he paused at one that made his heart ache; it had been taken not long before the Dragon’s Head Conflict back before he and Chuuya had earned themselves the name Soukoku. He and Chuuya were leaning against adjacent walls and Chuuya looked rather grumpy, most likely because of the hat Dazai held, stolen off his head; in the background stood Oda leaning up against a railing. Dazai didn't remember who had taken the picture or what they had been doing, but it was one of the few times they had all been together.
Oda had never been Chuuya's friend like he had Dazai’s, but the two of them had gotten along fine on the rare occasions they interacted. It was touching to know that Chuuya remembered him fondly enough to keep such a photo on display though.
The rest of the photos were a miscellaneous mix of people like Kouyou, Elise, Akutagawa, and even Q, but they held no emotional significance to Dazai so he ignored them and moved on to continue exploring the apartment.
Except for the difference in location, Chuuya’s bedroom looked the same as it had back when they used to share an apartment; everything was neat and in place, his bed made and floor free of clutter. Feeling curious, he peeked into his closet; there were several sets on neatly pressed vests and shirts in there, but to Dazai’s amusement he found that several of the punkish outfits Chuuya had worn when they were younger were also hanging up.
After they'd become executive's Chuuya had slowly started trying to dress more professionally, his casual clothes being traded out for vests and button-up shirts. Only the choker had remained of his more rebellious style, but Dazai knew that was worn in equal amounts to hide the numbers on the back of his neck as it was because Chuuya liked it. The fact that he'd kept his old clothes, which probably still fit considering how little he'd grown, was evidence that his fashion sense had changed that much though.
There wasn’t much more to look at in the bedroom and Dazai didn’t feel a need to go exploring Chuuya’s balcony or bathroom, so instead, he poked his head into the room to the east, which turned out to be an office. An expensive-looking wrap around desk was pressed into one corner of the room, piled high with stacks of papers and files that informed Dazai that his ex-partner hadn't lost the habit of bringing his work home; in fact, it looked like he might have gotten worse.
Part of Dazai itched to go through the papers and see what information he could find, but he didn't know when Chuuya would get home and he wanted to get a little more exploring done before then, so he resisted. He didn't manage to resist the urge to sit down in the office chair Chuuya had and spin around a few times though.
Leaving the room slightly more dizzy then he had been when he entered, Dazai headed back in the direction of the living room and onto the kitchen. Out of all the room’s in Chuuya’s apartment, the kitchen and dining area were the ones Dazai was already familiar with, most people didn’t know it but Chuuya was an excellent cook and one of the main motivators for the past times Dazai had broken in was to steal leftovers.
It always made him feel rather nostalgic to do so, back when they were teenagers it had almost always been Chuuya who cooked their meals, Dazai would have survived on a diet of takeout and canned crab if left to his own devices. He wasn't really sure if it was just because Chuuya was a mother hen or if it had to do with how valuable nutritious food was to a kid who'd lived on the streets, but his partner had been horrified by the cheap food he'd been surviving on and done his best to make sure Dazai ate a balanced diet.
At the time it had been rather annoying, even if Chuuya's food was delicious, but now that he was on his own and back to a diet of canned crab he missed it. Unfortunately, Chuuya's fridge proved to be empty of any pre-made meals, much to Dazai’s disappointment, there were plenty of ingredients to make stuff but nothing that had already been cooked. There wasn't even anything that was just waiting to be cooked, a sure sign it had been a busy week for Chuuya, usually he'd prepare dishes in his free time and then stick in the fridge or freezer so he could take it out and bake it when he got home.
Sighing loudly Dazai let the fridge door swing shut and turned his attention to the large wine rack covering the south wall; he'd always preferred a harder drink over, but Chuuya held an almost obsessive fondness for the fruity stuff, even if it only took a few drinks to knock him out. Letting his eyes roam over the numerous bottles, he reached out and grabbed one at random; he'd ended might not know enough about wine to know what was good or not, but Chuuya usually had decent taste and if he was going to have to continue waiting for him to get home he might as well have a drink.
Grabbing a glass from the cabinet with the familiar ease of someone who knew where everything was, Dazai made his way back to the living room, settling down on Chuuya’s couch. He’d just finished pouring some of the wine when he heard the click of a lock, indicating that Chuuya was finally home.
Silently sipping from his glass he watched as the front door swung open and Chuuya walked in looking exhausted, he didn’t seem to notice Dazai at first as he took off his shoes, but as he turned around from hanging up his coat he caught sight of him and halted in place.
"What the h*ll are you doing in my apartment?" He growled at Dazai, however, any chance of sounding intimidating was ruined by the tiredness in his voice, not that Dazai was usually intimidated by Chuuya anyway. Getting up from his seat, Dazai allowed a wide smile to grow on his face,
“Chuuya! You’re back!” He gleefully exclaimed, “I was bored and I thought who better to entertain me than my least favorite hat rack! By the way, your security is terrible, it took me less than a minute to get in here.” Early on in their partnership, Dazai had figure out just what tone of voice to use to annoy Chuuya the most and it seemed it still worked even years later judging by the way the shorter man’s face contorted in rage.
He took a step forward, most likely planning to attempt to punch Dazai, when suddenly he stumbled and Dazai felt a wave of concern shoot through him which he quickly tried to shove down.
“Eh? Is Chuuya drunk? You look terrible!” He questioned, trying not to think about how unusual it was for Chuuya to lose his balance; the two of them weren’t partner’s anymore, it wasn’t his place or job to be worrying about him.
“Try looking in a mirror sometime, you useless mummy!” There was real heat backing Chuuya’s words and it reassured Dazai, it was how their relationship was supposed to go; Dazai would annoy Chuuya, he would snap back at him and then they’d go back and forth like that for a while. It was the way things had been since they first met, a bitter rivalry of sharp words and hard punches that lead people to think they hated each other while hiding the bond they shared.
Dazai was about to open his mouth and offer up an insult about Chuuya’s fashion sense when he suddenly pushed passed him, slamming his shoulder against Dazai’s arm in the process and knocking him off-center. As Dazai regained his balance, Chuuya made his way to his bedroom door, whirling around to face Dazai for a moment,
“I’m going to go clean up and when I get back, you'd better be gone!” He ordered before disappearing into his room and leaving behind a confused and worried Dazai. Something wasn’t right, Chuuya hadn’t started a fight, had barely even reacted and that set off alarm bells in Dazai’s head.
Silently he thought over Chuuya’s actions since coming home, he’d looked exhausted when he came through the door which was par for the course when it came to late-night operations, but there had been that moment when he’d stumbled, which hadn’t been normal. Usually, Chuuya moved with the grace of a cat, each step he took filled with poise, every movement dripping with purpose; he wasn’t the type to simply trip and fall.
Chuuya had been limping, he realized, he’d been favoring his left leg and trying not to put weight on it; that was why he’d fallen earlier, his leg hadn’t been able to support his weight. Somehow or another, he'd managed to get injured during whatever mission he was on. It wasn’t just his leg either, he’d winced after his shoulder had slammed into Dazai earlier, and wasn’t that just like Chuuya to have purposefully done something he knew would hurt him in order to spite someone.
Shoulder and leg, that was two injuries thus far and for all Dazai knew Chuuya was hiding more, he’d have to wait until the man came back out to know for sure though. Suddenly Dazai’s thoughts slammed to a halt as he realized just what path they were headed down, why was he worrying about Chuuya? The two of them weren’t partners anymore, he had no obligations towards him, there was no reason for him to stick around and make sure he was okay.
Dazai had come to Chuuya’s apartment for one reason, to find some entertainment by annoying his ex-partner, with said person injured and tired there was really no reason for Dazai to stick around; and yet he found himself unable to leave. During the years they’d spent as partners there had been plenty of occasions where they had patched each other up, Chuuya had pulled him out of rivers or wrapped both self-inflicted and enemies caused wounds on several occasions, becoming the only person besides Mori who’d ever seen under the bandages; for his part Dazai had carried Chuuya’s broken body back to headquarters or their apartment far too many times, had washed the blood off him and bandaged his wounds and sat by his bed waiting for him to wake up, serving as one of the few people Chuuya would allow to be around when he was weak from Corruption.
It was hard not to come to care from them when they placed so much trust in you and you in them, he’d cut ties with the Mafia and his past as best he could but it seemed he hadn’t been able to sever the bond he shared with Chuuya, he still cared for him more than he’d like to admit.
Sighing softly as he made his choice that wasn’t really much of a choice, Dazai wandered his way over towards Chuuya’s bookcase, absently running his hand over the books before picking out one at random. He could hear the shower running in Chuuya’s bathroom and knew it would be at least a few minutes before he came back out, so he might as well keep himself occupied.
The book he’d picked up turn out to be a copy of The Little Prince, written entirely in French, which didn’t surprise Dazai in the least; Chuuya had always been surprisingly good with other languages and French was one of his favorites. Settling down on the couch he began flipping through the book, it was one he’d never read before, Mori had forced plenty of books on him to read but there had never been any children’s ones among them.
Reading it was slow going, Dazai had always spent more time studying strategy than languages so it took him a while to translate each line in his head but that was fine, it would help pass the time. He’d only gotten a few chapters in when he heard the bedroom door open and Chuuya’s grumpy voice broke through the silence of the room
"Why are you still here?" He questioned, though Dazai doubted he’d really been expecting he would leave, Chuuya knew him too well for that. Shutting the book he pushed himself up off the couch and casually walked over to stand in front of his ex-partner,
"I told you, I was bored, and I still am.” He reminded Chuuya, his usual annoying smile on face as he leaned down enough that he could look Chuuya in the eye, “Besides, Chuuya's hurt, that's unusual." A look of surprise momentarily flashed across Chuuya’s face before being replaced by a scowl,
"Just what makes you think I'm hurt?” He demanded, going on the defensive, “I'm fine, which is more than can be said for you if you don't get out of here." As if to back up his threat Chuuya tried to shove him away, but like Dazai had told him while they were retrieving Q, he knew Chuuya’s attacks like the back of his hand and it was all to easy for him to grab the man’s wrist before he even touched him. His grip wasn’t strong but he heard Chuuya let out a hiss of pain at the contact,
"Well for one, that," He drawled, feeling rather disappointed in how foolish Chuuya was acting, it was obvious that he was hurt, so why wouldn’t he just admit it? "You're also limping and seem to be favoring your left side, even if I wasn't a genius it wouldn't be hard to figure out. So, what happened?"
Chuuya just sneered at him,
“That’s Mafia business,” He said, ripping his wrist from Dazai’s grip, “So unless you’re planning to rejoin…” The ‘I’m not telling you’ was left hanging unsaid in the air but Dazai chose to ignore it and instead deliberately misinterpreted the sentence,
“Eh? Chuuya! I didn’t realize you missed me so much!”
“That’s what you got out of that?” It was always fun to watch the way Chuuya reacted when he was annoyed, he’d puff up almost like an angry cat, hands twitching like he was about to claw someone’s face off; Dazai didn’t allow himself to enjoy it for more than a moment though, before turning serious again.
“Really though, what happened?” He questioned again, “Except for when you use Corruption, you don’t usually get hurt.” It wasn’t an overstatement, while Corruption never failed to leave Chuuya injured unless he was caught off guard or unable to use For The Tainted Sorrow, Chuuya didn’t tend to get injured. His ability was strong enough that it was easy to protect himself
“Well maybe if I still had a partner to watch my back, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt!” Chuuya snapped and Dazai flinched back as if struck, not only because of the bitterness in Chuuya’s voice but because of the truthfulness of his words. Leaving the Mafia had resulted in both Chuuya and himself becoming partnerless, but while joining the Agency had gained him Kunikida as a new partner, Chuuya had been left alone. He didn’t have anyone to help keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t get caught off guard, and the knowledge of that left a sick feeling in his gut. Dazai had never liked feeling guilty though so he pushed it down and forced a smile onto his face,
“True, true, Chuuya gets rather reckless without someone holding his leash.” He joked, hiding his feelings behind the familiar routine of taunting Chuuya, before continuing after the answers he wanted like a bloodhound. “Ah but even when reckless it’s still hard to hurt Chuuya thanks to his ability. So something must have happened, something your ability couldn’t affect…”
Chuuya sighed and gave him a considering look,
“You’re not going to leave until I tell you, are you?” He stated more than questioned and Dazai’s smile grew more genuine,
“Oh, chibi’s smarter than he looks!” He crowed, watching as Chuuya’s hands curled into fists and he took a deep breath to no doubt try and calm himself, before limping over to his kitchen table and collapsing into a chair.
“We had bad information,” He began, voice monotone like he was trying to disconnect himself from the situation he was recounting, “There weren’t supposed to be any ability users, but there turned out to be two of them.” Dazai was quite as Chuuya spoke, the only sound in the room besides his voice the soft screech of a chair against the floor as Dazai pulled it out from the table and sat down.
One of them managed to freeze up my men’s guns so they couldn’t really do anything, and the other...” Dazai watched as Chuuya’s hand crept to his side, hovering there for a moment without touching and he mentally took note for later of the probable location of an injury. “The other one could control shadows,” Chuuya continued, “I’m not sure that if they could only form them into blades or if they could do more than that, but they’re dead now so I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Gravity didn’t affect them though, I couldn’t do anything to defend myself but dodge, and my men…”
The monotone voice Chuuya had been speaking in when he started had disappeared, replaced by one filled with sorrow,
“I went in there with eighteen men Dazai, and only one of them was able to walk out with me. I should have done a better job of protecting them.”
“You did your best Chuuya.” Dazai informed him, after a moment of silence to gather his thoughts. Back during their teenage years he’d never understood Chuuya’s anger and grief whenever someone died on a mission, all life ended eventually, so what was the point in getting upset over it? It had taken Oda dying for him to really understand grief and then joining the agency for him to understand the desire to protect people, though to be honest he still didn’t fully understand how upset Chuuya got over the deaths of subordinates he hardly knew.
“I still should have done better.” Chuuya muttered and Dazai sighed but decided not to press the issue, Chuuya wouldn’t be likely to change his mind and besides that Dazai didn’t think he was in any shape to have an argument; whether it was from grief, pain or a combination of the two, over the course of their conversation Chuuya’s hands had begun to shake ever so slightly and his face had become pale and drawn.
“Your first aid kit is under the bathroom sink, right?” Dazai asked, standing up and making his way out of the room; as he passed through Chuuya’s bedroom he took note of the way Chuuya had just thrown his clothes on the floor, his neat freak of an ex-partner must have been feeling really awful to have done that.
He was already digging around the bathroom sink by the time Chuuya’s brain seemed to realize what he’d said and an annoyed yell came from the kitchen,
“Oi, how many times have you broken into my apartment!” Dazai just laughed in response as he pulled the first aid kit out before heading back to the kitchen. Placing the kit on the floor next to Chuuya’s chair, he knelt down and began digging through it in search of disinfectant; it was nostalgic almost to search through it, it was the same one he and Chuuya had when they were younger, the crack in the top from where Dazai had once dropped in his rush to get it open a reminder of the many times they’d patched each other up.
Chuuya didn’t seem to care about the nostalgia though, and he glared at Dazai,
“The h*ll do you think you’re doing?” He demanded, and Dazai had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.
“You’re hurt.”
“Yeah? I can patch myself up.” Dazai was unable to keep the unimpressed look off his face any longer and he raised an eyebrow,
“Your hands are shaking, your face is pale and you look like you could fall asleep any second.” He listed off in a deadpan tone, “I don’t think you’re in any shape to take care of yourself, just let me do it.” He could see the hesitation on Chuuya’s face and he didn’t understand it, sure he knew that Chuuya hated having other people around when he was injured or weak, but Dazai had taken care of him plenty of times before, so what was the fuss? He didn’t press the issue though, instead he returned to searching through the kit, this time for painkillers; Chuuya wasn’t stupid, he’d realize what the best choice was on his own.
It was mere seconds after he located the painkillers that Chuuya finally gave a soft mutter of ‘fine’, prompting Dazai to pop the lid off the bottle of painkillers and pour two out into his hand, which he offered to Chuuya. Chuuya only stared at them though, causing Dazai to frown,
“You’re going to want them, I can tell you’re already in pain and it’s going to hurt more once we start.” He pointed out, but Chuuya continued to hesitate,
“I can deal with pain.” This time at least Dazai could understand Chuuya’s hesitation, he himself had never liked the way that painkiller left him feeling fuzzy headed and out of it, but for Chuuya it was worse; they hadn’t ever really talked about it but Dazai knew how important being in control of himself was to Chuuya, the foggy thoughts and lack of inhibitions that came with being drugged didn’t compare to the loss of control that came with using Corruption, but that didn’t mean it didn’t make him uncomfortable.
Of course just because Dazai understood Chuuya’s reasons didn’t mean he agreed with them, Chuuya was currently safe in his own apartment, it didn’t matter if he was fuzzy headed or loose lipped; Dazai could take care of any thinking that needed to be done and if he accidentally blurted something out it wouldn’t matter, what secrets could he have that Dazai didn’t already know?
“But that doesn’t mean you have to.” He coaxed softly and Chuuya hesitated a moment longer before accepting the pills and swallowing them dry. Humming in satisfaction, Dazai switched to a cross legged position in front of Chuuya’s chair and grabbed hold of a clean cloth before pausing,
“Hmm, I suppose I should ask what injuries you actually have.”
“You think?” Chuuya deadpanned, an exasperated look on his face that Dazai found rather rude, “I’ve got a stab wound through my left leg...”
“That you walked home on.” Dazai interrupted and Chuuya’s look of exasperation turned into a glare,
“That I walked home on.” He confirmed, sounding like a petulant child who’d been called out on their wrong doings, “There’s also a slash on my side, I’m not really sure how deep it is, it was dark out when I wrapped it. And then there’s a bullet in my right shoulder you’re going to have to dig out.” The last injury listed made Dazai’s eyes widen in shock,
“You actually got shot?” He questioned, earning yet another glare, but he felt his surprise was justified; Chuuya could easily use his ability to stop bullets from hitting him, so it was even rarer for him to get injured from a bullet then it was for him to get hurt at all.
“I was distracted.” Came Chuuya’s defensive reply and Dazai hummed thoughtfully as went over the list of injuries in his head, on their own none of the injuries would have been too hard to deal with as long as they were taken care of immediately, but it sounded like Chuuya hadn’t done anything of the sort. He probably hadn’t even let anyone know he’d been hurt.
“So you didn’t clean any of your injuries, just wrapped them while walking home?” He stated more than asked, “You’re an idiot.”
“I don’t want to hear that from a bandage wasting suicide maniac! Besides it’s not like I could take the time to clean them, someone would have noticed I was injured!” Chuuya’s eye’s dared Dazai to comment any further and as much as he would have liked to do so and scold Chuuya for not just sticking around headquarters to get patched, he decided it would be wiser to keep his mouth shut. There had been plenty of occasions that he himself had hidden injuries or escaped from the infirmary, often by annoying Chuuya into helping him, and he was sure the other man remember that just as well and wouldn’t hesitate to bring it up.
Plus, just like he understood why Chuuya was opposed to being drugged, he also understood why Chuuya didn’t like being in any kind of hospital like setting. He might consciously remember much of the experiments that had been done on him, though Dazai somewhat suspected that over the years he’d come to remember more things and just never mentioned it, but anyone as observant enough would have noticed how uncomfortable Chuuya was around medical equipment or anyplace that was reminiscent of a lab.
“Have the painkillers kicked in yet?” He questioned, deciding the best course of action was to change the subject, and Chuuya shrugged in response.
"A little, I think. Let’s just get this over with.” It was always hard to judge for sure when painkillers had finally started kicking in for Chuuya, even with the high level that were needed to affect him, they didn’t do as much as they would for a normal person. Luckily since Chuuya’s altered biology meant things went through his blood stream faster, it was safe to say that if they hadn’t kicked in yet, they probably would be within the next few minutes or so.
"Roll up your pants leg." Dazai order, picking up the saline solution and clean cloth he’d dug out of the kit earlier before watching with slight disapproval as Chuuya unwrapped damp bandages from his leg, he really shouldn’t have gotten them wet. Grabbing hold of his foot he carefully examined the wound, it was a clean puncture that had gone clear though the leg right above the ankle, there weren’t any torn edges or obvious debris stuck in it, but there also wasn’t much he could do for it; it wasn’t the kind of wound you could stitch up.
Unscrewing the cap from the saline solution he gingerly poured it over the wound to flush out any unseen debris or contaminants before patting it dry with the cloth so he could slather it with antibacterial cream. Once he was done with that he carefully wrapped the injury with a clean roll of bandages, his movements smooth and practiced; when it came to things involving bandages, he could probably do them with his eyes closed.
"That's about all I can do for that, just make sure to change the bandage every day, ideally though you ought to also stay off of it for a couple of weeks." Dazai instructed, though he knew Chuuya would probably try and disregard the later half of his advice and return to work as soon as possible, luckily he knew an easy enough way to stop that; all it would take was a text sent to Mori.
Admittedly he didn’t really like the idea of having to contact Mori, but it was the best choice; for all the bad things that could be said about the man one had to at least admit that unless it benefited him otherwise he tried to keep his subordinates alive and in decent shape. At least physically, the last he’d checked the Mafia didn’t have any type of therapy available for their members, then again neither did the Agency.
Chuuya would listen to Mori if he was told to take time off work though, albeit he’d probably try and still do some work from home, but he’d be on his feet less and that was the important part.
"Alright, shirt off now." Dazai ordered, he could see Chuuya’s eyes starting to lose focus as the painkillers absorbed more into his bloodstream and knew it wouldn’t be long before he started drifting off. He’d probably have to move him to the couch before taking care of his shoulder, but the wound on Chuuya’s side would be easier to take care of while he was sitting up.
Gingerly unwrapping the bandages from Chuuya’s waist, Dazai clicked his tongue at the sight of the wound; it wasn’t dangerously deep, but he was willing to bet it would add the the collection of scars already littering Chuuya’s abdomen. Compared to the amount that littered Dazai’s body there weren’t that many but it was still more than a twenty two year old should probably have, that was life in the Mafia though.
Most of them Dazai knew the story behind, in fact most of them had technically been his fault, caused by No Longer Human activating and leaving Chuuya vulnerable because he’d had to pull Dazai out of the way of harm or something; and then there was the faint white remnants of a wound from a poisoned knife, that one had technically been Dazai’s fault too, but he preferred not to think about it. He could only guess as the source of the rest of them, though he thought it was probably safe to assume they’d happened during either Chuuya’s years on the street or in the lab.
Just like he had with the leg wound, Dazai carefully washed out the wound and patted it dry before digging through the first aid kit for a needle and thread.
"This is going to need stitches." He told Chuuya as he pulled them out, who merely nodded in assent. Pulling the thread through the eye of the needle and tying it, he gently grabbed the edge of the wound with his fingers and lifted it before pushing the needle in; from there it was an easy pattern of in and out as he stitched up the wound with practiced ease. Along with all the strategy that Mori had shoved into Dazai’s head, there had also been a fair bit of medical knowledge; he’d never be able to perform a complex surgery, but when it came to simpler things he was plenty capable.
Finishing up the stitches he carefully shook Chuuya’s uninjured shoulder, who seemed to have somewhat fallen asleep and was listing to the side, at his touch the smaller man blearily opened his eyes,
"What?" He questioned in a tone that was probably intended to be a growl, but was ruined by the slur in his voice
"I'm going to move you to the couch before I remove the bullet, you look like you could fall out of your chair at any moment and I'd rather not deal with that." He didn’t wait for Chuuya’s agreement before slipping his arms under the man’s legs and lifting him up into a princess carry. As befitting someone of his small stature, Chuuya was rather light, making it easy for even someone with as skinny of arms as Dazai to carry him without too much effort.
"If you get any blood on my couch, I'm killing you." Chuuya mumbled and Dazai laughed,
"Sorry Chuuya," He informed him, as he settled him on the couch so that he was leaning up against the arm, "But you're not a beautiful woman, so I refuse to be killed by you." Chuuya’s eyes had slid shut during the short trip over, but they opened again at that comment to glare at Dazai and stick out his tongue.
"Any beautiful woman would run the minute you opened your mouth, you're going to end up living forever." He said, and Dazai clicked his tongue in mock offense,
"Those are rude words to be saying to be saying to someone whose going to be digging around in your shoulder." He cautioned playfully as he picked up a pair of tweezers and grabbed Chuuya’s arm to hold it steady while he tried to dig the bullet out.
"F*** you." Came Chuuya’s slurred replay and Dazai laughed again, even when nearly unconscious it seemed Chuuuya had the same eloquence as usual, which was none.
"Yeah yeah, c' mon let's get this finished and then you can sleep and the next time we meet we can get back to hating each other." Dazai told him, frowning in concentration as he tried to successfully remove the bullet, it had hit the bone which had stopped it from going in too deep, but the blood coating it made keeping a grip on it difficult. Maybe if he tried using two pairs of tweezers?
"I don't hate you." The mumbled words that came from Chuuya pulled Dazai from his thoughts and nearly made him drop the tweezers in shock.
“What?” He questioned, sure that he’d misheard
"I said I don't hate you,” Chuuya repeated, and Dazai blink in surprise a couple of times. Truth be told he'd never really thought that Chuuya did totally hate him, if he had then he’d have probably killed him already, but he’d always figured that he did hate him at least a little so hearing him say otherwise was… “You're my brother."
And with that Dazai’s brain suddenly screeched to a halt, Chuuya had just called him his brother, had pretty much just told him he was his family and he had no idea how to react. Dazai had never really had much experience with family, he’d had parents of course but their focus had always been more on things like money and social standing, spending time with their child and giving him affection or dealing with his suicidal desires had never really been on their to-do list. Mori had been more of a parental figure to him then they ever had, and wasn’t that a sad thought, but he still hadn’t been someone Dazai would consider family. Chuuya though…
In the beginning their relationship had been volatile, although they worked well together neither one of them had been happy to be placed as partners, but as time went on they’d forged a deep bond. They’d still fought and insult each other constantly, but they’d also defended each other from both physical and verbal threats; was that how siblings behaved?
He didn’t know, and it was more than he could handle thinking about at the moment, so like he tended to do when uncomfortable he tried to brush it off as a joke.
"Eh, Chibi’s really out of it, he's saying weird things." He commented, his voice sounding shaky even to his own ears,
"Shut up." Chuuya muttered tiredly, "I'm being serious, you're stupid and annoying and I'm going to be really upset if I remember this conversation when I wake up, but you need to know, I don't hate you." Dazai had continued to work all while having his internal crisis, and had finally managed to successfully get the bullet out, which he dropped on the cushion next to Chuuya. It was definitely going to get blood on it, and Chuuya would yell at him, but he was too shaken up to care.
"I betrayed the Mafia though." Dazai stated, as he carefully wrapped a bandage around the now bullet free wound and began putting away supplies. Chuuya nodded in agreement, his eyes still closed,
"You did, but you seem happier. I'm jealous."
"Jealous?" Chuuya's words earlier had shocked Chuuya, but now they confused him. What on earth could Chuuya have to be jealous about? For a moment Chuuya didn't reply, even the high dosage of drugs he was on apparently not enough to make whatever he was thinking easy to blurt out,
"You got out." He finally whispered, his voice quiet, "And I don't think I ever will." Dazai had leaned forward to better hear Chuuya, but he jolted back as if the words uttered had slapped him. While Chuuya joining the Mafia admittedly couldn't be considered entirely voluntary, Dazai had thought that he'd come to like being there, why else would he be so loyal?
A little voice in his head reminded him that Chuuya had never been the wisest when it came to giving his loyalty though, he'd been loyal to the Sheep despite knowing they were using him and had even tried to protect them after they betrayed him. Maybe he only stayed in the Mafia out of a sense of duty, he'd pledged his loyalty to Mori when he joined and maybe assume the stupid selflessly devoted person he was he didn't feel he could go back on that pledge.
Or maybe he just stayed because he had nowhere else to go, when Dazai had left he'd at least had Oda's dying words as somewhat of a guide for where to go and what to do, but what would Chuuya have to lead him? For the first time in four years, Dazai wondered if he should have asked Chuuya to come with him; he had considered it briefly at the time but it had been dismissed almost as soon as he’d thought of it, he’d had no reason to believe Chuuya would say yes after all. He wondered if he’d made a mistake.
"I thought you were happy there." He questioned hesitantly, there was part of his mind that was screaming at him to drop the conversation, to not go down that path; he’d never been good at dealing with emotional things, but his curiosity and guilt overrode that sense of caution.
"I am most of the time, I’ve got people I care about there, and I do like my job but…” Chuuya answer softly after what seemed like a torturously long wait, “Sometimes I just want to be free.”
Free… Suddenly everything made a lot more sense, of course Chuuya would be jealous of him for getting out and gaining freedom, Chuuya had never been free in his life. Admittedly Dazai didn’t know what Chuuya’s very early childhood had been like, it was possible he’d once lived a free and happy life, but given where he’d ended up it was unlikely.
Military experiment, street rat, King of the Sheep and finally dog of the Mafia; Chuuya had been many things but in the end each one of them had trapped him in their own way, leaving him unable to escape. Dazai himself had trapped him too, had helped force him into the Mafia and then abandon him there when he’d escaped.
"Oh stop looking like someone kicked your weretiger,” The grumpy voice of Chuuya, who had opened his eyes to glare at Dazai, broke through the silence that had fallen with a proclamation that would have made him laugh at any other time. “I'm not looking for your pity. F*** I don't even know why I told you, it's those d*** drugs."
“Without the drugs...You wouldn’t have ever told me, would you?” Dazai questioned after a long moment of silence, a hint of reproach sneaking into his voice. Chuuya let out a bitter laugh,
“Dazai I trust you with my life but I know better than to trust you with my feelings; that would be like playing Russian Roulette with multiple bullets, I’m more likely to get hurt then end up safe.”
The words stung and Dazai wanted to protest them but he couldn’t, not when he knew Chuuya had every right to feel that way. After all how many times had he used other people’s feelings against them, how many times had he mocked and belittled Chuuya using whatever information he got his hands on? For him it had been in good fun, just another play in their game of annoying each other; he’d never stopped to consider that he might actually be hurting Chuuya.
“I…” He began, not even sure what he wanted to say, but feeling like he had to say something.
“Just leave it Dazai,” Chuuya cut him off before he could figure out his thoughts, “I’m tired let me sleep, just forget I ever said anything.” Dazai didn’t want to leave it, how could he after everything he’d found out, there was so much they needed to talk about, so much they needed to fix; but there was a genuine plea in Chuuya’s voice and so for once Dazai backed down.
“Go to sleep Chuuya.” He ordered, standing up and pulling a blanket off of the back of the couch and draping it over the ginger, “We’ll talk about this some other time.” There was no reply, but Dazai hadn’t really expecting one, Chuuya was already fast asleep.
Pulling on his shoes, he made his way out of the apartment, locking the door behind him in the same way he’d unlocked it almost two hours ago; before pulling out his phone and shooting a text off to Mori.
His and Chuuya’s conversation was far from over, too many things had been revealed that needed to be talked about, but for now it could wait.