Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Why, the ever loving fuck did you do that?" Dazai hissed as he stumbled down a dirt path, Chuuya held tight against his side to help the smaller man walk.

His partner’s arm was flung over Dazai’s shoulders, so he could support his weight and the detective kept a hand around his slim waist to help stabilize him. 

Chuuya scoffed, a wheezing, harsh sound in his throat that got cut off by a hacking cough. Dazai stopped, despite the urgent need to keep going, to allow his former partner to retch into the grass if he needed to. Which was much preferable to all over his suit. Thankfully, he didn’t, just coughing as his torso shuddered by the force.

"Shut...up," Chuuya got out between painful sounding breaths. 

Dazai scowled and proceeded to ignore him with long practice.

"I mean, you pushed me out of the way of a dart. A dart ," Dazai ranted, continuing their lopsided march, forcing Chuuya along with him. "It was stupid. You're the better fighter and now we're in the middle of nowhere, miles away from aid and you can't breathe right!"

"I thought," Chuuya said between wheezes, "it was…a gun."

"And you're living up to your name, slug. Who's slow enough to not avoid a dart? "

"Plenty of people," Chuuya retorted, slurring his words and his lips were slightly open. 

That was bad. They didn't know exactly what was on that dart but it certainly wasn't a normal tranquilizer. Of course, the stupid chibi shouldn't have been hit in the shoulder like a normal person but directly in his throat. Almost immediately after killing the shooter, he'd rubbed the area, complaining that it felt numb. 

Dazai had teased him, of course he had, but things turned serious when Chuuya started fighting for air, something stopping his normal airflow. 

They hadn't wasted time and started towards the extraction point, a decent hike away from the Rats base that they hit. It hadn't taken long for Chuuya to lag behind, regardless of his stubbornness. Whatever he was hit with was a paralytic, and not an Ability. Dazai had tried, pressing his palms against both of Chuuya’s cheeks when he first started to gasp.

"We're almost there," Dazai promised, the words tasting stale and inadequate on his tongue. 

"That's what…you've said for…the last ten…minutes," Chuuya sniped, but his tone lacked any heat. His head hung limply from his neck, his forehead pressed heavily on Dazai’s shoulder. 

"Well it's actually true this time, look," Dazai said. 

He repositioned the arm over his shoulders higher so that Chuuya was leaning more of his weight on him. The toes of his shoes were dragging through the dirt as he tried and failed to keep his footing. 

Chuuya raised his head, eyes wider than normal, and followed Dazai’s quick gesture. 

"So it is," he croaked, taking in the sight of the shack half hidden by trees. It was a decent sized building, being able to comfortably house three people. 

"Just a little more than the lazy slug can rest. Does that work with the chibikko?" Dazai teased, the urge more reflexive than any real desire to aggravate the small mafioso. 

Chuuya growled darkly then cut off with a hard cough. His legs buckled underneath him and Dazai had to tighten his grip quickly or he would have crashed to the ground. 

"Dammit, Chuuya—you couldn't have waited a few more meters?" Dazai griped, his tone harsh. 

His pulse thudded in his ears. It beat to something worse than anger, something that he always tried not to feel. Something that he wasn’t used to feeling around his partner, because he always felt safe. 

He was frightened. 

Chuuya did not respond, his only answer a short hissing sound before a loud gasp. Dazai grimaced as he felt Chuuyas chest expand and collapse quickly, desperate to draw in as much oxygen as he could. 

Dazai didn't waste any more time and lugged his unresponsive partner up to the door. He had to lean Chuuya against the worn, wooden walls as he fished the key out from under a nearby rock. When he unlocked the door, he made a beeline for the bedroom, gently lowering the chibi onto the queen sized mattress. 

Which was not how he'd imagined how Chuuya finding out there was only one bed would go. He'd picked it specifically to mess with his partner but he didn’t think Chuuya was in any place to care about his antics. He quickly removed the mafioso’s hat and weird half jacket, trying to make it as easy for Chuuya to breathe as possible. He propped his partner up with all four pillows, so he wouldn’t choke on anything. 

Chuuya followed his movements with his eyes but he didn’t say anything. Either by choice or lack of ability. 

“I need to call the Agency,” Dazai told him, impulsively reaching out and tucking a strand of sweaty copper hair behind his ear. 

Chuuya jerked his chin down in a short nod, closing his eyes. 

Dazai understood his silent message; Get on with it, don't worry about me. However, he couldn’t help lingering, drawing his fingers down Chuuya's cheek. He didn’t want to admit even to himself that he was reluctant to leave his partner alone when he was in so much pain. Forcing his feet away from the bed, he exited the bedroom at a brisk walk.

It took seconds to fish out the landline, hidden in a cabinet. He quickly punched in the sequence for the only line it could call, holding the phone up to his ear. 

It was picked up on the first ring. 

“Dazai? What’s going on? You should have reported exactly 35 minutes and 22 seconds ago!” Kunikida barked. 

“Where’s Yosano?” Dazai demanded in lieu of answering. 

“She left. Ranpo was concerned when you didn’t call in on time and sent her ahead,” the other detective answered, a hint of frustration building in his voice. “What happened?”

“Chuuya took a hit for me,” Dazai told him through gritted teeth. He hated this. He could still hear his partner wheezing through the open door, each inhale scraping against Dazai’s already frayed composure.

“Nakahara was shot? I thought his Ability made him bulletproof.”

“It does, ” Dazai snarled, the reminder of his failing stabbing him like a heated icepick. “He pushed me out of the way. No Longer Human , remember? Touching me left him vulnerable.”

“Did you get the bullet out?” Kunikida asked.

Dazai shook his head, even though the other detective couldn’t see him. “It wasn’t a bullet. It was a fucking dart. It was coated with some kind of poison.” Dazai paused to inhale sharply, his throat closing up. He looked towards the bedroom, where he heard Chuuya cough and gasp for air.

“ He can’t breathe ,” Dazai stressed, the fear he was holding within his chest leaking into his voice no matter how much he tried to stop it. 

“Shit,” Kunikida swore under his breath. “How long does he have?”

“I don’t know.”

Kunikida fell silent, and Dazai felt it like a heavy weight on his chest. They both knew what that meant. If he didn’t know what was causing this, he couldn’t find the antidote or know if it would even work. With no other options, Yosano's healing Ability was the only thing that could save him.

“Keep him comfortable. Yosano should be there within the hour,” Kunikida finally said, ending the call with a click. 

Dazai placed the phone in the receiver, rushing back to the bedroom. He heard Chuuya before he saw him, the sound comforting yet tortuous at the same time. It hurt to listen to, but at least he knew his partner was still alive. When he entered, Chuuya opened his eyes to look at him. 

“Well?” he rasped, obviously regaining some strength from no longer moving. 

“Yosano’s on her way,” Dazai informed him, cautiously walking towards the bed. 

Chuuya grunted and closed his eyes again, his chest heaving. He’d wrapped both arms around his torso in a vain attempt to protect himself. There was nothing else he could do; his opponent was already in his bloodstream. 

Dazai gritted his teeth, his fear turning to anger like it had been doused with accelerant, flaring up explosively. 

“What were you thinking? ” he demanded, marching forwards to loom over the bed. “If you’d let it hit me, I would be the one d—” Dazai choked on his own tongue, unable to voice that thought. 

Chuuya’s eyes opened sluggishly, sending him a glare. “You just...answered yourself.”

“How is that the answer? I’m the suicidal one—not you!”

“I don’t...want to die,” Chuuya scoffed harshly, then hacked on a cough. A small amount of foam bubbled at the corner of his lips. 

Dazai instantly reached for tissue, whipping it away. 

Chuuya allowed it with cold acceptance, watching blankly.

“Yeah? Well you’re not acting like it,” he snarled, throwing the tissue away with more force than necessary. 

“You…know that…I don’t have...much time...anyway,” Chuuya said, gazing at the ceiling above him, resolutely refusing to look at him. 

“Yes you do!” Dazai barked, but a part of him knew that Chuuya was telling the truth. The look he gave Dazai told him how much of an idiot he was for denying it. Chuuya’s life was cut short before he even could remember, sentencing him to a cursed existence. He was the unwilling container for a God known for leveling cities. 

Eventually, every seal breaks. 

“I’d rather…die like this…then when I’m…not myself,” Chuuya told him sternly. 

Dazai flinched, jerking away from his words and the reality Chuuya was forcing him to acknowledge. Images of crimson markings danced infornt of his eyes and his ears rang with demented laughter. Long confessed fears spoken in the safety of a white tiled bathroom, sprang to his mind, Chuuya’s blood still staining his skin from the last use of Corruption. 

Dazai was acutely aware of how much Chuuya hated the loss of control activating that part of his Ability gave him. 

Dazai couldn’t face that. Not when he was only seeing another one of his friends slipping away in front of him. 

“You still deserve to live!” he shouted.

“And you don’t?” Chuuya shot back, half rising on the bed. His face was twisted in a fierce scowl, his lip curling back to show his sharp canines. “What you’re feeling…right now is exactly how—” he cut off with a painful cough, falling onto his side as his arms gave out beneath him. His breath hissed and wheezed loudly through his throat.

Alarmed, Dazai rushed forwards, keeping him on his side in case Chuuya brought anything up. He rubbed his thumb over the fabric of his sleeve, trying to sooth him, even if the motion felt ineffective. 

Chuuya flapped his hand towards him and Dazai quickly grabbed it, biting his lip to keep from hissing in pain as he squeezed a little too tight. He wouldn’t let Chuuya know he was hurting him, not when he was in far worse pain. 

Sitting on the bed next to him, Dazai tried to comfort him by humming something. He wasn’t sure how much it was working as Chuuya gasped for air, but it numbed the ache in his chest to hear something other than just the sounds of Chuuya’s breathing. The smaller man’s diaphragm was heaving visibly with the effort to try and pull air into his lungs. 

Dazai hated this. 

He was powerless. 

All he could do was watch the fear build in Chuuya’s eyes as his attack lasted for longer than five minutes, foam forming at the corner of his mouth. His lips themselves were slightly blue, showing his lack of oxygen. His other hand clawed at Dazia’s chest, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. 

Finally, Chuuya’s breathing eased, sounding less agonized. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into the mattress, since he’d fallen off the pillows. His grip on Dazai’s fingers grew slack, curling loosely around them.

“Don’t belittle...your life,” he wheezed into the sheets, cracking open one eye to tiredly look at him. “People care...about you. You’re important,” he added, squeezing his hand softly. 

“Okay,” Dazai whispered, unable to argue with him. He grabbed another tissue and wordlessly cleaned Chuuya’s face. That done, Dazai brushed his hair from his face, looking at the slightly hazy, vividly blue eyes gazing back at him.

“You have to…promise me. Promise that you…won’t follow,” Chuuya said, letting go of his shirt to reach up and cup Dazai’s cheek with his small palm. 

“Yosano is coming, you’re going to be fine,” Dazai snapped, but leaned into the motion anyway, careful not to dislodge him.

“Osamu. Promise me.”

Dazai blinked at the use of his first name, and his chest started to burn uncomfortably, an ugly feeling clawing up his throat. He swallowed harshly and shook his head. 

“Don’t ask me that,” he pleaded. “Anything but that.”

“Too bad. You have to live,” Chuuya said fiercely, reaching his hand further up to grab the back of his head, tugging him down to press their foreheads together. “Get help. Whatever you…need to…survive. Don’t give up on…your humanity.”

“You’re my humanity,” Dazai blurted before he could think about what he was saying. 

Chuuya’s eyes blew wide, shock overtaking his features before he softened. He leaned forwards and lightly pressed their lips together. He was only there for a split second before he had to pull back, drawing in a harsh breath. To Dazai, it lasted an eternity and barely a millisecond at the same time. The kiss both searing and a cooling balm at the same time. 

“Chuuya,” he whispered, his eyes starting to sting. He couldn’t believe he was getting this, after four years of silence. 

Especially when he might lose him for good. 

“Don’t make a…big deal out…of it,” Chuuya grumbled, a small flush darkening his cheeks.

“Aawww, chibikko’s embarrassed!” Dazai cooed and chuckled at the weak swat to his chest. 

Chuuya rolled his eyes and shifted so he was on his back again, scrunching his face up in pain. His chest rose and fell heavily, but better then it had been. Since he was no longer exerting himself, it was probably easier to breathe. 

Watching him, Dazai couldn’t help but think of the first time they met. Chuuya had been even smaller then he was now, but not by much. (He never had that growth spurt that he’d hoped for.) At twenty-two, his fiery hair was longer, his curls hanging across his neck while his features were sharper. His sapphire eyes were half open, causing his long lashes to cast shadows over his cheeks. 

Chuuya was just as beautiful as he’d been at fifteen. Dazai had been able to appreciate it even after being kicked through a wall by the chibi and with a boot on his chest. The cocky smirk on Chuuya’s young face had been irritating as well as endearing.

From the following mission they'd been forced on together, Dazai had known that Chuuya would be his. His to order around and have next to his side, always ready to do his bidding. He’d wanted someone who he could control, like how Mori was puppeteering his life. 

Of course, Chuuya never got the message. He would listen whenever it was important and he was ridiculously easy to rile up, but he stayed stubbornly independent. He would rush off at the slightest chance of his people getting killed, not listening to Dazai's disregard for them. 

Dazai had been shocked to learn that Chuuya considered him one of the people he protected. The first time that Chuuya had witnessed one of his suicide attemps, the red-head stayed with him. True to their establishment dynamic, he gripped and fought with Dazai through it all, but he stayed . 

Chuuya became something he never would have predicted—a friend. Even if both of them insisted that they were rivals and hated each other. 

Even after being apart for four years, Chuuya was his partner, his other half. 

And now he was losing him, just like he lost Odasaku.

“Whatever you’re…thinking…get it out of...your head,” Chuuya wheezed sharply, twisting his wrist to pinch the soft skin between Dazai’s thumb and forefinger. The pain grounded him and he blinked back into focus.

“ Ooowww ,” Dazai whined dramatically. “Chibikko’s abusing me!” 

Chuuya dug his nails into his skin, just for that, but let go within seconds. “You’re one…to talk,” he grumbled. “You’re the worst…for fucking with…people.”

Dazai couldn’t argue with that.

“You have that…face on. The one that…you wear when…you’re thinking…of stupid shit,” Chuuya continued, reaching up and poking his brow.

“Who said I was thinking of anything?” Dazai scoffed, batting his hand away. 

“Oh? So you’re…saying you’re…empty headed? That tracks.”

“Chibi must be going senile in his old age, I’m a genius.” 

Chuuya snorted, his lips quirking in a small, amused smile. “Sure. A giant…dumbass, genius. Just…fucking…tell me, mackerel.”

Dazai kept his mouth shut, staring at him. On impulse, he got up and started to pace back and forth at the foot of the bed. He shoved his hands into his pockets defensively but even that backfired on him. All he could think of was how Chuuya used to keep his hands tucked away like that all the time. 

“How are you so calm?” he demanded, whirling on his partner. “If Yosano doesn't get here in time, if you succumb before—”

“I’m too...tired,” Chuuya interrupted sharply, but not as strongly as in the past. Dazai blinked and noticed for the first time the dark bags beginning to form under his eyes. How limply he was lying, like his muscles couldn’t hold him up anymore. 

It was wrong. 

Chuuya’s the strongest person he knew and it was wrong for him to be weak. Sure, Corruption knocked him onto his ass all the time, but now he looked defeated. With Corruption, they at least won, but this time, they were losing. 

Dazai was losing him. 

“Just...let me rest ,” Chuuya asked softly, his gaze pleading with him not to throw a fit. Dazai thought about it to be contrary on principle, but the haggard expression made the impulse wither and die. 

“Okay,” Dazai said, coming over to the side Chuuya wasn’t on, climbing onto the mattress. He flopped down beside him, wiggling so he could press his back against his leg, burying his face into the sheets. 

Chuuya made a sound of appreciation, but it was cut off with a sharp wheeze and Dazai closed his eyes. Maybe he was in a nightmare and he would wake up in his futon with Chuuya healthy on the other side of the city. He’d break into Chuuya’s obnoxiously expensive penthouse and rearrange his wines to annoy the chibi. 

The harsh breathing beside him shattered that illusion pretty quickly. 

He opened his eyes slowly, staring at the far wall, just…listening. It wasn’t pleasant. The wheezing dragged over his ears, each worse than the last. 

He lay still for five minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Surging to his feet, he stomped over to the bookcase in the corner and easily picked out a worn hard cover. Chuuya curiously eyed him as he came back, tilting his head to watch as Dazai settled beside him, their thighs pressed together. 

Without explanation, he opened the book and started reading out loud at random. Understanding dawned on Chuuya’s face, sympathy and appreciation leaking in. Grunting with effort, he shifted lower and rested his head on Dazai’s leg. Dazai kept reading the poems without missing a beat, but lifted his hand to run his fingers through Chuuya’s hair. 

Time passed like this, Dazai reading from a book of poems that he’d picked specifically for Chuuya. He wanted to see his reaction, since Chuuya kept his little hobby to himself, hiding his poetry books in hard to reach places. It was hilarious that Chuuya sometimes forgot how much shorter he is to other people, thinking that if he can’t access it easily, others wouldn’t be able to either. 

He still hadn’t caught on that Dazai moved them each time he broke in. 

He’d just reached the end of a longer poem when he paused. Something about the air around them was wrong, strangely empty. He frowned, eyes flicking to each corner, trying to pick up what was setting off his alarms. 

Then it hit him.

It was silent. 

“Chuuya?” he called, frantic, flinging the book away in his haste to check on his partner. 

Chuuya was lying completely still, his hair hanging over his face. Quickly, Dazai brushed them away and tilted Chuuya’s head back so he could see him. 

His skin was slightly chilled to the touch. 

“No, no, no,” Dazai muttered, pressing two fingers into the side of Chuuya’s neck. Dazai couldn’t have just not noticed if his partner passed while lying on his leg. There was no way. 

Desperately searching for a pulse, he gently slapped Chuuya’s cheek. “Come on, Chibi. You’re okay. You have to be okay.”

Dazai sobbed when he found the slight flutter of Chuuya’s pulse under his fingers. Tears dripped freely down his face, Dazai not bothering to wipe them away. 

“Da...zai?” Chuuya murmured, his eyes fluttering open. His voice was so small, barely a sound in this throat. “Wha...”

“Everything’s okay,” Dazai assured him. “Go back to sleep.”

Chuuya’s gaze flicked up to his, taking in his tear stained face. Sluggishly, he lifted a hand and wiped some away. “You’re…crying.”

“Don’t worry about it, just rest,” Dazai told him. If Chuuya really was dying, he wasn’t going to let his last moments be about worrying about him.

Chuuya’s lips pulled down in a frown, but he let his arm drop. It flopped back to the bed like all ability to hold it up had suddenly been lost. He sighed, his breath whistling in his throat. Dazai didn’t understand why he couldn’t hear him heaving for air anymore, but it didn’t seem like he was breathing any easier. 

“You…know, two…eyes…looks...better,” Chuuya told him, a soft smile on his lips. 

Dazai barked a laugh, rubbing his eyes dry. There was only one thing the slug could be referencing. Since he used to cover one eye when he was a mafioso, his hidden meaning was clear.

You were right to leave. It suits you. Don’t lose that.

“Aww, does the slug think I'm pretty?” he teased, but he knew Chuuya would pick up on his own unspoken question.

Really?  

Chuuya’s chest sharply lifted and fell, moving like he’d tried to snort. “Yes,” he whispered, answering both. 

Dazai inhaled sharply, biting his lip. “I think you’re pretty too,” he choked out. 

Chuuya smiled, soft and gentle. His eyelids started to fall and his head rolled to the side. Dazai whimpered and kept two fingers against his neck. There was still a beat, but it was so slow . 

He was so caught up in his mind, grief crawling up his throat, that he didn’t notice someone arriving until the door was flung open. Her chest heaving, Yosano stood in the doorway, her eyes blazing as she stared at them. 

“Give him to me,” she barked, her tone promising pain if her orders weren’t followed.

Dazai scrambled to obey.

Chapter Text

Breaking into Chuuya’s penthouse was ridiculously easy—to Dazai anyway. Other people might have issues but he didn’t think the chibi worried too much about those that could. He’d just beat them up and throw them out the window. 

Closing the door after him, but leaving it unlocked, Dazai ventured further into the apartment. Flicking one or two lights on, he wandered around the unfamiliar space. Chuuya had moved at some point during their four years apart, upgrading to someplace only people who had tons of money could afford. Even if that fortune was blood money.

Making his way into the living room, Dazai idly looked out at the lights coming from below, looking like caught stars against the dark of the sky. Night had fallen quite a bit ago, casting the world into darkness. 

It was a beautiful view.

Turning away from it, he walked into the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards at random. Once he got to the one full of vintage wines, he trailed his fingers over the brands. Some of them he knew, since he’d seen the chibi open a bottle or two, and others were new. He selected one with a french label, walking over to the island with it. Breaking the wax seal, and taking the cork out, he poured some into the two wine glasses he’s already picked. 

Heading back to the living room with the two glasses, he set them on coasters on the mahogany coffee table. He knew that if he didn’t, the chibi would yell at him. While that was fun, it would be counterproductive to his visit. 

That done, he sprawled out on the plush leather couch, settling in to wait. He hummed a little to pass the time. 

If the sound of the lock turning and a muffled curse didn’t clue Dazai in when Chuuya returned, the loud bang of him running into the door did. Chuuya snarled in rage and quickly unlocked it again, the building shaking with the force of Chuuya’s stomps as the chibi made a beeline for the living room. 

Chuuya appeared in the doorway, bracing his hands on either side as he glared at his intruder. 

Dazai blinked innocently at him, managing to hide how his pulse skipped at the sight of the petit mafioso. His blue eyes blazed with his irritation, burning with a fire that had almost been snuffed out. His hair was just as fiery as ever, the copper curls framing his face and reaching down to his open collar. 

He looked healthy. Alive in every way that made Chuuya, his Chuuya. 

A knot in his chest that Dazai didn’t know was even there uncoiled, tension leaking out of his shoulders.

“You’re a bastard,” Chuuya spat in lue of a greeting. 

“Good evening to you too, chibi.”

“It’s not evening, shitty Dazai. It’s fucking midnight . I’ve been on my feet for twelve fucking hours and I do not need whatever bullshit you’re going to spout at me. Also, why the fuck did you open one of my wines?” he sarled, catching sight of the two glasses. 

“To drink it,” Dazai said simply, keeping his eyes wide and innocent. 

“I was saving that for a special occasion, you bandage waster!” Chuuya screeched as he stomped over to him. His lip was curled up into a snarl and his fists were clenched. 

Dazai instinctively tensed, preparing to dodge. 

Instead of hitting Dazai like he would have in the past, Chuuya snatched one of the wine glasses, bringing it to his lips. Tipping his head back, he chugged a good portion. 

Lowering the glass, Chuuya's gaze snapped back to Dazai. Something flickered in his eyes as he licked his lips. Something warm and scalding, yet as gentle as a spring breeze.

Before Dazai could even think to start picking it apart, Chuuya put the glass down and sighed. Running a glove through his hair, his shoulders fell, showing the exhaustion weighing him down. 

“Whatever you want, it’s going to have to wait. I’m tired, worn out, and in desperate need of a shower.” Chuuya turned on his heels and left, removing his large coat and throwing it on a chair as he vanished down another hall. 

Expecting this, Dazai got up and fished Chuuya’s phone out of a hidden inner pocket. Quickly typing in the password—the silly hat rack hadn’t changed it in four years—he opened Chuuya’s most used food app and ordered them some ramen. He would have tried to cook himself, but Chuuya had banned him from cooking ages ago, after a particularly explosive attempt at curry. He doubted the chibi would eat anything he made, even if it looked okay. 

Slipping the device back into the coat, Dazai returned to the couch, sipping at his own glass of wine. He grimaced at the taste, since he much prefered whisky, and set it back down. 

The sound of water running told him exactly when Chuuya stepped in the shower. If the chibikko hadn’t changed in his four year long absence—which he highly doubted—Dazai would have twenty minutes before Chuuya finished. 

He was right, and their food arrived just as the water shut off. Returning to the living room with the food, he unpacked the two large bowls, laying them neatly on the coffee table. By the time Chuuya emerged from his room wearing only black leggings, a fuzzy, long teal sweater and his choker around his neck, Dazai had everything set out. 

Catching sight of the change from when he’d last been in the room, Chuuya paused, his gaze flicking to and from the takeout bowls and Dazai. His eyes narrowed, and his teeth lightly bit his lip. 

Which, Dazai tried very hard not to focus on. 

Chuuya groaned, rubbing his face with his bare hands. “What are you doing here, Dazai? What do you want?”

“Do I have to be after something?” Dazai wondered out loud, lounging back against the couch. 

Chuuya sent him a flat look. “You’re always scheming, mackerel,” he deadpanned but came over to the couch and sat beside Dazai, grabbing the chopsticks next to his bowl. “Thanks for the food,” he muttered under his breath and stirred the broth around, grabbing some noodles.

“If I wasn’t, that would freak you out more,” Dazai pointed out.

Chuuya snorted and dipped his chin in a nod, more focused on the ramen than their conversation. 

Dazai let him eat for a while, eyeing the exhaustion evident on his face, but focusing again on how alive he appeared. His skin was flushed from the warmth of his shower and his still damp hair clung to his neck, already curling into waves. His chest didn’t rattle with every breath and he was strong enough to hold a heavy bowl full of ramen with one hand. 

He didn’t look like he’d almost died a week before. 

Noodles halfway to his mouth, Chuuya paused, a frown pulling at his lips. "You went through the trouble of ordering two bowls, so why the fuck aren't you eating?" he demanded.

"Maybe I'm not hungry." 

"Dazai. Fucking eat."

He didn't argue anymore, grabbing his own utensils.

Chuuya watched him like a hawk, not going back to his own meal until Dazai had at least three mouthfuls. He nodded in satisfaction and picked up a bit of fish, stuffing it into his mouth. 

They ate in silence for a bit, both focused on their ramen. Although it was comfortable, the air around them felt charged, like a calm before the storm. Dazai’s skin pricked in anticipation and it took everything to keep himself from running away. He was the one that instigated this, Chuuya would not let him go now.

Dazai was both thankful and panicked when Chuuya set his chopsticks aside, turning his full attention to Dazai.

“Alright, what is it?” he asked, bringing one knee up onto the couch. Chuuya crossed his arms over his chest, his brows lowered in an irritated glare. 

“Can’t I just want to see my sheep dog?” Dazai asked flippantly. 

“Who are you calling a dog?” Chuuya snarled, smacking his shoulder with the back of his hand. “And no, you can’t.” Taking a deep, gloriously easy breath, his whole chest expanding without issues, he exhaled through his nose. 

Reaching up, Chuuya grabbed Dazai’s chin, forcing eye contact. His bare fingers were soft against his skin, and he could smell the flowery lotion he put on them. 

“Not when you’ve been avoiding me for a whole week. ”

“I was busy,” Dazai explained, but even to his ears it sounded like an excuse. Although it wasn’t all a lie. The ADA had been running around cleaning up the most recent battle with the Rats. 

“So is everyone else in Yokohama,” Chuuya snipped, releasing him. Leaning forwards, he grabbed his glass of wine. He swirled the crimson liquid around then took a small sip. Smacking his lips softly in appreciation, he leaned against the couch, watching him. 

“Stop fucking around, Dazai. Why are you here? Why now?” he asked, crossing one arm over his chest while the other held up his glass.

Dazai couldn’t look him in the eyes, running his fingers under the edge of the bandages on his wrist. He fiddled with it silently, his mind whirling. Chuuya let him gather his thoughts, continuing to drink his wine. 

“Your pulse was barely beating by the time Yosano got there,” he said hollowly, his voice devoid of everything. His chest felt just as empty, void of anything.

“It was,” Chuuya agreed, his voice matter-a-fact.

“I almost lost you.”

Chuuya hummed, but didn’t comment, the weight of his gaze burning a hole into his side. 

“Chuuya, if Yosano hadn’t—”

“I know,” he interrupted, resting his free hand on Dazai’s knee. His attention was immediately drawn to it, feeling the warmth of his palm through the fabric of his slacks. 

“Believe me, I know, Osamu,” Chuuya continued softly. “But death is something we have to deal with every day. You can’t save me every time.”

“But I have to!” Dazai burst out, his eyes snapping up to stare pleadingly at him. “I can’t let you die, I—”

“You wouldn’t be letting me die, you idiot. I will die, either to corruption or a stray bullet. With how the Mafia is, it’s a fifty-fifty chance,” Chuuya added ruefully. 

“ Then leave it! ” Dazai yelled. Immediately, he realized what he’d said and snapped his mouth shut, his eyes wide. 

Chuuya blinked rapidly at him, shock painted across his face. It lasted for a split second before his lip curled up into a snarl and he withdrew his hand. 

Dazai missed it instantly. 

“You should have said that four fucking years ago,” he spat.

Dazai immediately shook his head. "You're too loyal to the Mafia. You would have never left with me."

The look Chuuya shot him was incredulous, with a hint of disgust twisting his features. He scoffed and drained the rest of his wine. 

“I'm too sober for this conversation,” he muttered and reached for Dazai’s cup, taking it without asking. 

Dazai was too blindsided to make a fuss, just staring at him as he gulped half of that glass. 

“You wouldn’t have left,” Dazai repeated, feeling numb. 

Chuuya barked a humorless laugh, short and sharp. “All you had to do was call me and I would have come,” he snarled. “All you had to say was that you needed me and that people were in danger. No playing around, no teasing, and I would have known something was really wrong. But you didn’t even think of it.”

“You were in France!” Dazai protested.

“So fucking what? You were my partner !”

“Mori would have gone after you too!” Dazai screamed back. 

“What?” Chuuya abruptly halted, his lip still twisted in a snarl but it looked more confused now. His blue eyes flicked back and forth between Dazai’s no doubt looking for any sign of a lie. 

“Mori wanted to get rid of me. He was scared that I would take his place like he did the old boss. He chased me out by killing a bunch of innocent kids and my best friend,” Dazai explained, his voice raw. 

“Oda.”

Dazai nodded, swallowing hard. “If I turned to you instead of leaving, he would have done the same to you.”

“He wouldn’t. I’m too important a pawn,” Chuuya protested, his fingers curling around the wine glass a little too forcefully. Dazai wondered if it would shatter. 

“You’ve never been a pawn. You’re the Queen. But to Mori, every piece can be sacrificed, even the strongest one,” Dazai told him, desperately wanting the warmth of Chuuya’s touch again. 

Chuuya stared blankly at him, visibly thinking over everything Dazai had told him. 

“Alright,” he said after a moment. “Mori would have killed me too. I’d like to see him fucking try. Which—why the fuck didn’t you think we could take him? We’ve gone against organizations far worse.”

Dazai froze. “Are you saying… you would have gone with me?” he asked, his voice small. Was Chuuya saying what he thought he was?

It was impossible. 

He’d gone over it a thousand times in his mind when Dazai was planting the bomb in Chuuya’s car. If he could have taken the chibi with him instead of leaving a message to everyone that his partner hadn’t helped him, he would have. However, there had been less than a five percent chance of Chuuya accompanying him, so he’d left him behind. 

And he was telling him that Dazai’s prediction was wrong?

“ Merde , Yes, you fucking moron, ” Chuuya groaned then drained the rest of the wine in the glass. “Where the fuck did you put the bottle? You better not have drank all of it before I got here.”

“It’s on the kitchen island,” he told him, barely computing the change in subject. 

Chuuya got up, wobbling a little as he headed towards the kitchen. When he got to the doorway, he spun around and pointed a finger at him. “Do not go anywhere,” he ordered then vanished.

Dazai nodded dumbly, sitting in stunned silence. The impulse to retreat did enter his mind, but he stayed where he was, rolling the new information around in his head. 

Chuuya would have gone with him? But he’s the most idiotically loyal person he’s met, and he’d already pledged it to the Mafia. He wouldn’t just go back on that. No matter how much they placed each other’s lives in the other’s hands, they didn’t actually enjoy each other's company. 

Dazai stopped, staring off into place.

No, he did enjoy Chuuya’s company. He liked how the chibi reacted to his teasing, liked how no matter how much he snarled and snapped at him, Chuuya was always there for him. 

Dazai knew he could always count on him. 

That was different from affection…right?

The sound of labored breathing filled his ears and he remembered the feeling of lips pressed against his. It had been so short, but he still remembered every microsecond. At the time, and the days following, he’d convinced himself that it was an impulsive decision, something Chuuya had done because he was convinced that he had very little time left. 

Was that wrong…?

So absorbed with his thoughts, Dazai didn’t notice Chuuya’s return until hands gently cupped his cheeks, tilting his head up. He blinked widely up at Chuuya, shocked by the tenderness on his face. He was standing between his legs, just a head taller despite the fact that Dazai was sitting. Both hands were on his face, and Dazai could see the discarded wine bottle on the coffee table.

“Dumbass genius,” Chuuya muttered, stroking his thumb against Dazai’s lip. “You’re really not good at this, are you?”

“Like you’re so much better,” Dazai said, but the barb lacked any bite. His pulse was hammering in his ears, confusing him. 

Chuuya chuckled, moving his thumb to gently rub the side of his jaw. “I’m better at it than you.”

“Wow, that must be a first.”

“Shut up,” Chuuya ordered then pressed his lips against his. Dazai rocked back a little, shocked that this was actually happening. It was chaste, just a light pressure, but Dazai was floundering. Despite all of his flirting, he very rarely actually kissed anyone, let alone Chuuya.

When Chuuya sighed against his mouth, Dazai realized that he should be doing something. Straightening his back, he pushed up, his lips moving against Chuuya’s. He felt gentle fingers through his hair, cupping the back of his head. In return, his hands trailed up Chuuya’s sides to cup his torso just below his ribcage, holding him in place. 

Dazai didn’t know how long they were kissing, but he instantly missed it when Chuuya drew back. Pulling away, Dazai saw that Chuuya’s lips shone in the low light and they were slightly red. 

“I would have gone with you,” Chuuya said softly, combing Dazai’s hair with his fingers. “I use corruption because I trust you. I took a bullet—dart, whatever —for you, because I love you. I have for years.”

"But…” Dazai protested, “I’m me. I’m an annoyance, a waste of space. Why would anyone…l-love me?” he asked, tripping over the word.

Chuuya made a soft, agonizing noise, closing his eyes. “Oh Dazai,” he whispered then pressed a kiss to his forehead, before resting his chin on his hair. “Very few people are unlovable, and you are not one of them.”

“But I irritate you.”

“Yes, you do,” Chuuya said bluntly. “But that doesn’t retract from my feeling for you. If you didn’t bug me to hell and back, I would be wondering what’s wrong.”

Dazai could only make a protesting sound in his throat, unable to understand. 

“It’s alright if you can’t say it back,” Chuuya told him. “It must be hard for you to get through your thick skull. It’s okay, I can wait.”

“But I do,” Dazai blurted.

The hands in his hair instantly stilled and immediately Dazai thought he’d said something wrong. Chuuya’s hands switched to resting on his shoulders, pushing him back enough so that his partner could see his whole face. 

“Say that again,” Chuuya demanded, a confused sort of incomprehension in his voice.

“I do love you,” Dazai confessed again, almost unable to focus over the pounding of his pulse in his ears. 

When Chuuya still stared at him in disbelief, he continued, “I figured it out after the last mission. I almost lost you Chuuya. I already lost Odasaku, and that broke me. When you were dying…I realized that a world without you in it was even bleaker than one without my friend,” he admitted, his voice small. During his little speech, he couldn’t meet Chuuya's eyes, but now he looked up and held them. 

“You’re my partner. I can’t lose you.”

“Alright,” Chuuya said after a moment. He bent down and pressed his lips lightly against his. It was too short for Dazai to reciprocate but he tried, leaning forwards to chase his touch. 

Chuuya laughed and gave him another peck before drawing back. “Alright,” he said again, his prior amusement still evident. “Then promise me something else. As long as I can’t die, nor can you.”

Dazai hesitated, knowing that would be a hard promise to keep. Sometimes, everything was just too much and it was hard to remember that people cared. 

That he still needed to live. 

“I’m not saying that you’re not allowed to have bad days,” Chuuya clarified to his relief. “You can’t stop those, and I get that. But you have to call me when that happens, Osamu.”

Dazai shivered at the use of his first name, and he scowled at Chuuya’s knowing smirk. 

“Don’t you dare leave me behind again, or I really will rip you to shred. Because I've already lost you once. I am never doing that again,” Chuuya said fiercely, his eyes blazing with a protective anger. 

“Okay,” Dazai whispered. 

“Okay?” Chuuya repeated, arching a brow.

“I promise to call you. Or if I can’t reach you, go to someone else.”

“Good,” Chuuya said then bent down to kiss him again. When he drew back, he covered a yawn with his hand. 

“Now, it’s still ass o’clock at night and I’m exhausted,” Chuuya muttered, rubbing one eye. He stepped away from the couch, stumbling towards his bedroom. 

When Dazai didn’t immediately follow, he turned around, looking sleepily over his shoulder at him. “Why the fuck are you just sitting there? Come on, we’re both tired. Unless you’d rather walk all the back to wherever you live,” he added as an afterthought

“Aww, does Chuuya want to cuddle?” Dazai teased, but got up anyway, following his partner.

Chuuya’s cheeks darkened, a pink flush tinting them. “Shut up. I can still kick you out.”

“But then wouldn’t you be lonely~?”

“Shut up now or I will actually be throwing you outside. Through the window.”