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If it were up to Dazai Osamu, nobody would know he was transgender. He passed well enough as a man- he had his height to thank for a lot of that, really, and besides, it was nobody’s fucking business. Not many things about his personal life were anyone’s business, honestly. He was someone who wanted to keep most things private- he prided himself on being unknowable.
Mori knew. Dazai wishes he didn’t. It had led to a lot of… uncomfortable conversations, to put it mildly.
Dazai wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Chuuya knowing, either, and had no plans to tell him. He didn’t need to know. They had been partners for almost an entire year now, and Dazai got the distinct impression that Chuuya understood Dazai a lot more than either boy was entirely comfortable with. The idea of Chuuya knowing this part of himself, his best kept secret, made him feel slightly ill.
Like most things in life however, you seldom get what you want.
“Would you fucking- sit still?” Dazai winced at Chuuya’s volume. Really, the fact he had gotten shot was souring his mood enough at the moment, and the hatrack yelling right next to his ear was not helping in the slightest.
“You could be more gentle, you know.” Dazai whined, but nevertheless he did make an effort to stay still as Chuuya peeled off Dazai’s shirt, now soaked with blood. He fought back the urge to cringe at the sensation of the fabric sticking against the wound in his back.
The two of them were hiding out in a safehouse after a job, waiting for a ride. The job had gone off mostly without a hitch, aside from Dazai’s injury, but it would have taken too long for them to get back to headquarters in this state by themselves, and Dazai was losing a decent amount of blood.
Really, Dazai would have been content to just bleed out. He hated pain, but hiding injuries wasn’t anything new to him. Chuuya seemed to find the idea of Dazai bleeding out on him to be really inconvenient though, and insisted that he at least make some effort to treat the wound. So here they were, Dazai sitting on a sorry excuse for a bed while Chuuya stood behind him, examining his injury.
Chuuya rolled his eyes, not gracing Dazai with an answer. He had managed to find a first aid kit from somewhere in the house, and seemed intent on at least trying to stitch up Dazai’s back while they waited. Dazai had no idea where Chuuya even learned to sew up a wound, or if he was even any good at it, but he didn’t particularly care.
Right now, Dazai really just wanted to go home and sleep off the injury. He had lost just enough blood at this point that he was starting to feel a little bit light-headed.
“Dazai,” Chuuya started, once he had gotten Dazai’s shirt off and had thrown it carelessly onto the floor. The shirt was ruined anyway. It was the first time Chuuya had seen Dazai shirtless, and the older teen was unsurprised to find that the bandages covered more than just his arms and neck- they were wound tight, covering his entire chest, stopping at a point just above his naval. Dazai gave a half interested hum in response. “You’re gonna have to take some of these bandages off so I can deal with this.”
Dazai froze. The gunshot was in the center of his back, right below his shoulder blades. He wasn’t thrilled at the idea of removing any of his bandages, but the idea of even loosening the ones around his chest made him feel a little bit ill. They were carefully wound tight, tight enough to keep his chest as flat as he wanted it.
He tried to steady his voice, careful to not reveal how much the idea really bothered him. “Can’t you work around them?”
“No. Not if you want me to actually treat this. And I really would rather get this stitched up before you pass out from blood loss. I’m not fucking carrying you back to headquarters.”
Chuuya couldn’t see Dazai’s expression from where he was sitting, but Dazai’s responding silence and the tension in his frame spoke volumes. He looked more upset than Chuuya could recall ever seeing him.
“Look, if you’ve got scars or whatever, I don’t give a shit. It’s probably nothing I haven’t seen before.” He pretended not to notice the concern in his own tone. As if he cared if Dazai was upset or not. He definitely didn’t care.
“That’s not-” Dazai started, before huffing out a breath and pressing his lips together tightly. He weighed his options. He could insist again that he could just hold off until they got back to headquarters and then Mori could deal with the injury. Somehow though, the idea of interacting with Mori any more than he needed to was just as nauseating as the idea of having to come out to Chuuya. Besides, Chuuya was nothing if not obnoxiously stubborn. If Dazai insisted he could hold off without medical attention, it would probably lead to an argument, and Dazai really was not in the mood.
Thankfully, Chuuya seemed content to at least not push Dazai to immediately respond. Small mercies, he supposed.
After a few moments of tense silence (really it was probably only a few seconds, but to Chuuya it felt like minutes), Dazai finally answered, tone clipped. “Fine.” Before Chuuya could cut away the surrounding bandages with his knife however, he added, “Just. Don’t ask questions.”
Chuuya was surprised to hear the slight edge in his tone. He seemed… scared, almost. The idea of Dazai being afraid of anything, especially something like this, made him pause, uneasy. He nodded, and then, remembering Dazai couldn’t actually see him, he said, “Okay.”
Chuuya swallowed, unsure as to why he was suddenly nervous. Carefully, he cut away the bandages around Dazai’s upper back. Dazai reached up to hold the loose bandages to his chest, but Chuuya was too focused on looking at the other teen’s back to pay it much mind.
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Gruesome scarring, perhaps. He wouldn’t have even been surprised to see tattoos. He was shocked to find that Dazai’s back was… plain. Normal. Maybe a bit boney, and entirely too pale, and there were faint indentations left from the bandages, but all things considered, there was nothing unusual about it.
Dazai was unusually silent as Chuuya carefully pulled the bullet out with a pair of tweezers, only wincing occasionally from the pain. Normally, any time Dazai got hurt he was insufferable and whiny. Now however, his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Chuuya was somewhat relieved by the silence. He needed to focus on cleaning out the wound and stitching it, something he wasn’t particularly experienced at, so it required his full attention.
Dazai was too focused on trying to keep his composure to register the pain for the most part. He didn’t know if Chuuya had noticed how he was carefully covering his chest. Chuuya hadn’t said anything yet, or reacted at all, and Dazai didn’t know if he was grateful for that fact or if it just made the pit of anxiety in his stomach worse.
It wasn’t that Dazai was afraid of judgement. Not really- he didn’t think Chuuya was the type of person to be an ass about this kind of thing. There was just something about the fact that Dazai didn’t wake up today with the intention of coming out, that he didn’t have too much of a choice, that didn’t sit right with him. Not that it was either of their faults. It was the fact that now Dazai had to be vulnerable in a way he didn’t want to be, in front of someone who he didn’t entirely trust. Not with this at least. He trusted Chuuya with his life, easily. But this? This was something else.
Chuuya tied off the stitches before covering the injury with fresh bandages. It was a little sloppy and by no means perfect, but it would have to do for now. Dazai was still quiet as Chuuya cleaned up and put away the medical supplies. It wasn’t until he went to hand Dazai a couple of pain-killers from the first aid kit that he realized what was making Dazai so uncomfortable.
Dazai was covering his chest, carefully trying to cover himself with the loose bandages, but Chuuya could still see the slight swell of breasts underneath his arm. Oh. He carefully averted his gaze, and glanced at Dazai’s face. His expression was carefully blank, lips pressed in a tight line, searching Chuuya’s face for any kind of reaction. He was completely still.
Chuuya cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly, and handed the pills to Dazai. “Here. I don’t want you whining about pain on our way back.” Dazai relaxed slightly, seeming to appreciate the fact Chuuya wasn’t making it any more awkward than it already was. “I’m gonna go see if I can find you a clean shirt.”
With that, Chuuya walked off to rummage through the safehouse for a change of clothes. Dazai swallowed the painkillers dry. He was glad Chuuya had respected his wishes and hadn’t asked, although Dazai was sure he had questions.
It didn’t take long for Chuuya to return, typing something on his phone with one hand as he tossed a shirt in Dazai’s direction. It was a thick sweatshirt. Unflattering, but baggy enough to not irritate his injury, as well as roomy enough to hide Dazai’s chest. Dazai didn’t know if Chuuya had considered that when grabbing the shirt, or if it was just luck. He wasn’t sure what to think if Chuuya had actually been that considerate. He tried not to dwell on it.
“Hirotsu’s on his way” Chuuya said, still looking at his phone, as Dazai slipped the shirt on over his head. “He’ll be here in around five minutes.”
Dazai nodded, and Chuuya finally looked up, seeming to relax a bit once he saw Dazai was dressed. Dazai also felt considerably more comfortable now, although the atmosphere in the room was still thick. Chuuya took a seat next to Dazai on the bed.
The two teens didn’t speak for a few moments, neither of them knowing what to say. Chuuya got the distinct impression that Dazai didn’t really want to discuss it, but it felt strange not saying anything. Eventually, he said, softly-
“I won’t tell anyone, you know.”
Dazai didn’t think he would, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. He nodded, and after a moment, responded. “Thanks.” Chuuya gave him a small smile, and Dazai made a face. “It’s weird seeing chibi so nice to me.”
Chuuya scoffed. “Yeah, well don’t get used to it. You’re still an ass.” That made Dazai laugh, relieved that the lingering tension in the room seemed to have faded out.
As the two of them continued to wait for pick-up, Dazai considered the idea that maybe, Chuuya wasn’t all that bad. Maybe, if he ever felt like he actually wanted to talk about this stuff, he could go to him. Not anytime soon but... The possibility of it, that maybe he had someone he could learn to trust with more than just his life… he found he didn’t hate that idea as much as he thought he would.
Strange.