Archive of Our Own

Hearing Chuuya wake up screaming in the next room wasn’t something new. In fact, the first time it happened, it never surprised Dazai (but then again, nothing did really). It would start as a sudden, horrific wail reduced to whimpers as the boy tried to get a hold of himself again.

And it always woke Dazai up.

He was a light sleeper as it was; add a shrilling-chibi to the thin walls of their shared apartment, and he always woke up.

It sucked really, on a selfish level. Chuuya was an insanely deep sleeper- and while that benefitted the younger boy in his schemes to cut up all of Chuuya’s underwear, forcing him to go commando through several stages of the Dragon Head Conflict- it also meant Dazai was lonely on nights he’d wake up crying too. And there was no way he’d crawl into Chuuya’s bed in a weakened state, so he’d just let his book or his harrowing mind keep him company.

Chuuya always got the long stick of the draw. And Dazai despised him for it all.

Sure, he was a science experiment before the age of seven- but it was something he couldn’t vividly remember. Dazai had also been the body on the surgical table- difference was that it was still happening. So, leading on from that point: Chuuya got Kouyou. He got Mori. Then there were some more petty things like: while Chuuya was tiny, he packed on muscle mass like it was no tomorrow with ease, Dazai hadn’t put on a pound of weight in three years- which was concerning since he’d definitely grown in height during that time. There was also the fact that Chuuya, as a result of being a demi-god, never got sick while Dazai always seemed to be nursing some sort of biological ailment in some form or the other (currently, it was a stomach ache), he never broke out whilst even the shimmer of sweat could make Dazai explode in hives- Chuuya didn’t need braces. And Dazai of course had metal strapped to his teeth. Chuuya also didn’t think as much as Dazai did.

And he’d never know how much of a gift he’d been blessed with.

So, whenever someone would wonder why Dazai hated his partner so much: he’d say it was because he was so loud. But these were the real, childish reasons.

Chuuya hadn’t suffered as much as he had. And he knows that it was stupid to ‘compare traumas’, but he was bitter at everything in life- he was sour because the child walking the zebra crossing wasn’t hit by a truck so she'd have to spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair- so he was irrationally angry at Chuuya too.

But that never stopped him completing his duties as the other half of Double Black.

Dazai would hear Chuuya scream, Dazai would curse Chuuya for having anything to scream at, Dazai would wait to hear Chuuya’s bathroom light turn on and turn off to signal that he’d washed his face of any tears that may have escaped, Dazai dragged himself out of bed with his phone and his book, and crossed the hall into Chuuya’s room. That was the routine, and it was like clockwork.

Naturally, when Dazai opened the door to Chuuya’s room his bedside lamp was on- because only psychopaths stayed willingly in the dark after a nightmare. The glow highlighted the voids under his eyes, the gauntness of his face as tried to wipe his messy hair back from his vision. There was a glass of water in his hand, but it was still more full than empty: it seemed like he’d spent more effort squeezing the cup than actually taking sips from it.

This was a bad one, then. Seven times out of ten, Chuuya would be laying back down under his duvet, the other side of the double bed clearly vacant for Dazai and his ‘soothing’ accomplice: No Longer Human. In the woozy aftermath of Corruption, Chuuya had confessed that he “can’t understand why you hate it so much… It’s comforting.” Unfortunately for Chuuya’s theory, he’d failed to consider the fact that while he could turn Tainted off, Dazai couldn’t (another thing he despised him for). Alas, if Chuuya liked it, he’d get it- as the Universe has pointed out for him in too many ways.

Dazai remained in the doorway for a long few seconds, just taking in the bombshell that was Chuuya’s bedroom. It was disgusting. Dirty clothes masking the colour of his carpet, important paperwork just dumped in the corner of the tip- albeit there wasn’t any rotting food he could see, but that only made the smell more concerning. Sure, it was probably just teenage-boy B.O- but god. Just because Chuuya was a street-rat, didn’t mean he had to bring his habits into their top-end apartment.

Old, degenerate habits die hard, he guessed.

“You’re disgusting.” He sneered his nose up at the crumpled underwear beside his feet.

Now: people would assume that Dazai was a hypocrite for his distaste for his partners living conditions- but he was actually relatively clean. It wasn’t hard to place dirty laundry in the washing hamper, make sure products in the bathroom went back to their designated spot and keep paperwork on his desk at the office. Besides, the last time he let himself go Mori forbade him any form of shelter for a month. Plus an extra three weeks once he found out he’d been camping out in his office- one week was for disobeying his punishment and the other two was being stupid enough to let him find out. So, between sleeping in dingy bar bathrooms, park benches and shipping containers by the docks- Dazai learned his lesson for cleanliness.

Because if you couldn’t even be competent enough to keep your living quarters clean, why should you be entrusted to keep valuable Mafia intel safe?

And he wasn’t worried Chuuya would get the same treatment if the boss made an impromptu visit- far from it. He was under Kouyou, so the worst punishment he’d ever receive would be a disappointed look, a philosophical lecture, a slap on the wrist and increased training.

He loathed how easy Chuuya got it. He really, really despised him.

The older boy didn’t even respond and just sipped his water with a hatred in his eyes. “I never asked you to come in here, y’know?”

“But leaving you whimpering all night would just be pathetic. And we’ve got that ring to shut down tomorrow; I don’t need you being even more insufferable because you couldn’t sleep.” Dazai tried to make an advance into the room, but there was so much clutter- it was starting to make his already-aching-stomach turn from the basic conditioning of Mori’s little power trip. It made him itchy in all the wrong places, like his skin was about to crawl off his muscles.

Occasionally, he could ignore Chuuya’s barbaric habits and just jump into the other side of the bed without a second thought. But it was as if every garment of clothing just reproduced like mice without anyone there to call pest control. Plus, Dazai was antsy as it was. He hadn’t been sleeping properly lately- which wasn’t news, but tonight finally felt like he’d be able to sleep through. Apparently not. And there was no point in trying again now, so his mind jumped like a starving man at bread crusts for something to do. And sometimes that included cleaning up Chuuya’s messes.

He picked up the near-empty washing basket and propping it against his hips as he scooped up every item of clothing not in the wardrobe- clean or otherwise- into the wicker. “Everyone already talks about how you were a mangy stray before you were kicked to our doorstep.” Dazai picked up a sock that felt a little too suspicious- but he just dropped it into the basket, trying not to give it a second thought. Truly revolting. “It’s just witless to prove them right by making your room just as rabid as they already perceive you are.”

“And you deciding to go off about some dirty boxer shorts whilst I’m on the verge of a panic attack will only do wonders for your image as a heartless, demonic sociopath.”

Dazai dropped the basket, half of the room still in shambles and returned the glare directly at the boy- who had a slight tremble in his frame, despite his cavalier persona. 

He didn’t try to hide his sigh, so this is actually a bad one.

“Oh, Chibi…” He pitied, just to grind Chuuya’s gears much more than any slither of genuine sympathy.

Alas, he had a job to do else he may as well have just stayed in his bed. So, he made his way over to Chuuya’s bedside. Those blue eyes followed him, like a wounded animal would track a stranger: threateningly, but ultimately unable to do much if it ever came down to it. Well. Dazai’s sure Chuuya could still punch him into the next millennium- but emotionally he was feeble.

Dazai gently combed some of the bed head out of Chuuya’s eyes, making it look like he was just trying to feel his temperature- but they both knew the real reason, and the older boy seemed to appreciate that hidden motive very much as he sighed, welcoming No Longer Human into his bloodstream.

As much as Arahabaki had his perks, Dazai did often wonder what having a literal god trapped under your skin felt like. There was something under his own skin: something cold and heavy, yet completely void at the same time. There was a vacuum in his core he often wanted to dig out- it was often something he blamed for him being the way that he was- and he assumed it was No Longer Human, an omnipresent figure looming over him when Mori couldn’t. But he’d never know for sure, since he’s never been separated from the Ability and never would. On better days it felt draining, on worse days it felt like he was sucking up all the energy in the world and still not have any to ease the bags under his eyes or the eternal tiredness in his bones.

But while No Longer Human just felt like a parasite- Arahabaki was another sentient creature living inside of his partner. He’d never asked Chuuya about it; anything regarding Chuuya, as he already established, he couldn’t find the energy to care- and any amount of energy he did own was always wasted on insatiable anger… 

… but if he could, one day, wake up and feel something that made it out of the famished chasm pulling him further and further into despondency, he might see why Chuuya was so quick to anger. He might feel sorry for the extra voices in his head- Dazai didn’t know for a fact were there, but there had been occasions in silent alleys, or in the living room with the TV turned off that he’d turn and say, “what was that?” or “no, thanks.” or generally just wake up with a rigidity to his frame despite the fact he’d actually slept well. Dazai might even open up himself… Dazai might even ask Chuuya what was wrong instead of spinning his own judgement into a translucent web.

But tonight was not that time. He’d let Chuuya close his eyes, feel the deity leave his blood as a cooling ice lake washed over him, and he’d be jealous that Chuuya could find so much solace in something that haunted his every breath.

He stroked Chuuya’s hair, lost in his thoughts just as much as Chuuya was lost in the sensation of being freed, but he didn’t sit down- he just stood with his caring gestures, even if the feelings underneath weren’t as warm underneath.

As sad as it was considering their hatred for each other, Dazai really was Chuuya’s only source of comfort right now, and it was a gruelling burden for them both to an extent. But Dazai knew that if he ever let his walls down enough to let Chuuya know he wasn’t okay, his loyal dog would do the same and more. So, he let Chuuya fall against his upper stomach, battling through whatever demons were forking his mind. Just the demons now though; Arahabaki was gone. Dazai had done his job.

His fingers continued winding across that knotty scalp, rubbing too tenderly for it to be close to what anyone knew their strange companionship as. And Dazai- though he’d never admit it- too was lost in the sensations. There was always something different under his skin when there was another, acceptable, human to touch. And Chuuya was acceptable.

And that was the biggest compliment Dazai would ever give him, so he should be grateful.

After a long period of time, a raspy voice started to emerge from the puppy-face he was nursing, a quiet rumble Dazai might have missed if he was left to his own thoughts for much longer.

“Why are you still here?”

And Dazai blinked in surprise. “Be…cause Chibi woke up and he…”

“No.” He didn’t bite sharply, he just sounded tired, and far too awake at the same time. “Get in. You need to sleep too.”

Right. “I don’t think I’ll be doing much of that.” Fingers still in his hair, Dazai took in his grim surroundings once again. “... And I’m not staying here. It’s more revolting than usual, Chuuya.”

Finally, he removed his head from its resting place and just glared at Dazai inquisitively. “I’m not leaving.”

“Then, I’ll have to grab you.”

“What the fuck.”

Dazai’s flimsy limbs went down to genuinely attempt at picking the other up- Chuuya just looked like a bitchy cat, offended by Dazai’s meagre experience.

“Are you seriously trying to pick me up?”

After another failed attempt, Dazai huffed. “Well I could if you helped me out here, Chuuya!”

Instead of obeying, Chuuya remained the little blanket-potato, keeping his arms to himself and his legs crossed over one another. “Not happening.”

“Fine!” Dazai straightened himself out, flailing his arms dramatically. “I can drag you though-”

“- what?!”

“Chuuya, I can’t leave you to fester in here! Either you come willingly to my room or I make you and, yes, I know how that sounded so shut your tiny mouth.”

“Fine! Fine! But stop with your pawing.”

Despite the fact he was still grumbling under his breath, Dazai took a step back, giving Chuuya some room to actually stand- which he did with his own assortment of grumbles. They kept their hands together though- not once sending Chuuya back to that place with two minds grappling for the wheel. But just as Dazai checked that his book and phone was still in his hoodie pocket, he remembered something else.

Wordlessly, he reached down into those sheets (one of them really needed to get around to washing) picking up all the blankets before he found exactly what he was looking for.

Chuuya stared at him, a small blush on his cheeks- albeit small, but still there. “... bastard…”

From the duvet, Dazai pulled out a long, fluffy comforter with paws sewn to each corner. One of the sides had a hood, decorated with ears and eyes where your temples would be- which actually made it slightly demonic. It wasn’t supposed to be a fashion piece. Dazai had bought it to undermine Chuuya some more, but in the process of receiving the gift and discarding it carelessly, the dog-blanket made it into his bed and had stayed there since. It was actually quite fluffy, enjoyable. So, Chuuya kept it and found genuine comfort in it. Sometimes Dazai would notice it wrapped over Chuuya’s legs whenever he’d walk in to ease a nightmare- and he’d never actually made fun of him for it. Sometimes he had to remember how young they still were, and because he felt personal grief for the loss of- not just childhood, but- humanity, he couldn’t find it in him to be hypocritical.

Dazai had his own assortment of stuffed animals- or… he did. Until Mori found them.

Dazai dropped the hood onto Chuuya’s head, making his hair flare out a little cutely- not that Dazai ever thought Chuuya was ‘cute’, but someone else may have seen him that way. He also wrapped the corners around his shoulders, tugging them tightly like he was making sure his coat was done up properly before stepping out into the rain. Once he was deemed secure, No Longer Human stayed in contact and they walked to Dazai’s room down the hall.

There was a distinct smell difference: fresh bedding and vanilla candles over pungent B.O attempting to be masked by an obscene amount of aftershave. Dazai liked smells and textures the most- and his room definitely reflected that. The window was opened by a crack, where a salt burner had been extinguished before he’d settled down to sleep- and in place of forbidden stuffed animals, he had an assortment of blankets piled messily atop his mattress.

He hated Mori for his spontaneous power-trips- hated that he couldn’t let himself go like Chuuya. Now, Mori definitely didn't have his best interests at heart when he went to extreme measures to make sure his room stayed clean, but Dazai wondered how far-gone his room would be if those threats weren’t in place. It gave him something to do on the bad days: cleaning, shopping for new smells. And if he felt so drained that even the thought of getting up- never mind deep-cleaning- made him want to cry, the reminder that his job to keep his room clean being just as important as shutting down non-Mafia drug rings, did actually help.

And he hated Mori so much for that.

Chuuya didn’t make a comment on the clear difference between their two rooms and just fell onto the new mattress- probably would have dragged Dazai with him if it wasn’t for the blessing of their height difference- and while it wasn’t too much at the moment, Dazai had been growing at a rapid rate recently while Chuuya was just sluggishly stretching like the mollusc he was. He could imagine that the demeaning jokes would only increase in the future.

“You’re going to have to move over, Chibi.”

And Chuuya grumbled, but gracelessly rolled over anyway to let Dazai in on his side of the bed. Once Dazai slipped under the covers, Chuuya’s back was to him- which made the whole skin-to-skin thing much more awkward. But they adjusted, Dazai just stretching his hand out onto Chuuya’s neck instead, pulling the hood down to allow access..

And they stayed in silence for a long time, allowing the other to fall back into slumber if they could. They couldn’t. Dazai wasn’t sure Chuuya was even trying. He wondered whether the boy was just staring holes into the wall- unblinking. Lost.

He knew the feeling.

But after an unsure amount of time, Dazai’s side was starting to get tired and the angle made his arm start to cramp, so he tried to pull away from the contact… But Chuuya caught him before he could even get two inches away.

“Chibi…” He tried, “I’m seizing up here.”

“Just ten more minutes.”

Dazai sighed, alas his hand stayed put. “Roll over.”

“Just because I’ve got a dog blanket, doesn’t mean I’m-”

“That would have been funny, but that's not what I meant. Let me hold your hand instead of you snapping my elbow.”

With a huff, Chuuya dropped his weight down onto his other side, glaring at Dazai through the darkness. It was hard to make out any distinct features, but hours of training for ‘uncomfortable circumstances’ made Dazai more capable than your average mafioso, and in terms of Chuuya? Arahabaki always made him more heightened in terms of senses and instinct. Of course that had been nullified right now, but it was more the experience and knowing-how that helped Chuuya pinpoint the different muscle changes in his face. And Dazai couldn’t remember staring until Chuuya pushed his nose down into the pillow and sighed, ducking out of his scrutinising gaze. 

“Do you ever get nightmares?” He whispered, barley croaking; Dazai wasn’t sure what he heard until he replayed the murmur in his mind.

“No.” He lied.

“Really?”

Dazai just shrugged, “yeah.”

“Dreams?”

“Not too much.” - because when he did dream, they weren’t dreams and more vivid memories.

And Chuuya didn’t respond, he was scarily quiet- it was unsettling. It was always uneasy in the aftermath, and Dazai was never sure what to do. Usually, he'd give his dose of No Longer Human and just snuggle into his side of the bed, leaving Chuuya to the solace of having someone there. And that was normally enough.

But Chuuya didn’t want to let go. And while Arahabaki was like a painful itch after something traumatic- he wasn’t scary… And this time Chuuya looked scared to let go.

This wasn’t an Ability thing: this was a human thing.

Dazai could have scoffed. And you’re really picking me for that, eh, Chibi?

But Dazai hated wounded animals; the pity it tried to elicit from him. And Chuuya was the most beaten and bruised looking of them all. Pathetic. And pathetic how Dazai actually felt inclined to… help.

“What’s wrong?”

Chuuya blinked, stunned that Dazai actually had some ounce of empathy in his dead eyes. “I… just had a nightmare?”

“No. It’s more than that.”

The red-head seethed lightly between his teeth, the way he always did when Dazai was right and he couldn’t understand how he found out. Chuuya’s weakness though, was assuming that just because Dazai picked up on something he thought he was hiding so well, he knew everything else. Chuuya always forgot that he could just not talk about it, and got frustrated when Dazai knew almost everything about him, whilst he existed knowing nothing about his partner. But it was Chuuya’s fault: he was just too stubborn to accept responsibility (another insufferable part of his personality).

“You’ll just laugh at me.” His eyes danced off, avoiding the sight of their hands together on the pillow between them.

“Chuuya. You’ve just woken up screaming; I can contain myself.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Oh, then you need to tell me if it’s truly something I’d find amusing!”

Chuuya tutted, occupying himself with sighing into the pillow just to feel the air fan out across his face.

“Chuuya.” Dazai squeezed the connection between their hands. “I won’t laugh.”

On the outside. He assured himself, just to make sure his actions weren’t too kind- he couldn’t live with himself if his reassurance was genuine.

The boy stared back at him, piercing his gaze through the darkness, trying to latch onto any sign of insincerity or malicious intent. But Dazai was a master, and he couldn’t find anything.

He’d just have to trust, something that was hard for them both outside of risking their fates for each other on the battlefield. It was absurd, but there was a difference between trusting each other with their lives and trusting each other to hug them and tell them it was okay. That just wasn’t them.

But, somewhere, Chuuya decided to take that chance.

“I miss my mum.”

And Dazai’s heart stopped.

That was a word he hadn’t heard in so long. They were two words he tried to avoid: ‘missing’ anything and…

No.

He had to shut his mind down.

Fuck, he wished he never asked.

It took everything out of him not to wince- and thankfully, Chuuya didn’t spy that anything was wrong.

There shouldn’t be something wrong. This wasn’t a trigger word, or a trigger noise- This was just the language of humanity- something that he wasn’t a part of.

He was alienated from any utterance of family.

He was a demon, and demons didn’t feel love.

The silence wasn’t long, but Chuuya still felt that nervous urge to fill it. “I didn’t dream about her or anything, it's just the… ‘after’. You know.”

Dazai knew. But he wasn’t supposed to.

“But, Chuuya?” Slowly, facts started to click into place- logic to distract himself from feeling. “You don’t know her?”

And Chuuya immediately sunk into himself sheepishly. “I- I know. I still don’t… Just wish I did. I miss what I never had, I guess.”

Dazai hated how much he understood, and he wanted to lodge a knife in Chuuya’s throat for the fact he had the audacity to relate to that as well. How dare he miss his mother- someone he never knew. He couldn’t claim to have lost her: he can’t miss something he never lost- never had! He didn’t even stop to think about all the other kids in the world who have crappy mothers and would be better off without one at all! If he never got a taste- or more, couldn’t remember- the sweet nectars of maternal love, he wasn’t allowed an opinion. He was just making up issues at this point- Chuuya wasn’t allowed to miss her. If Dazai couldn’t… Chuuya wasn’t… 

But Dazai bit down his anger, swallowed it into the blackhole in his core, never to be felt again.

He couldn’t say anything; in that void of his, he knew he was being harsh, wrong, but more importantly than that: he couldn’t let Chuuya see how weak he truly was.

Because Dazai wasn’t allowed to remember…

“It’s stupid.” Chuuya chuckled anxiously, and Dazai bitterly agreed, getting even more irrationally frustrated that Chuuya understood how ridiculous he was being and yet continued to feel that way. “I don’t even know her name. Hell, maybe I don’t even have one and I was just there; if I’ve got a fucking god fused to my soul anything is possible, right?”

“You were an experiment, Chuuya. You’re a human being, you had a mum.”

“Then where is she? Why did she let me go?”

It was so sad. So feeble. Chuuya didn’t sound on the verge of tears, but he sounded hollow.

Dazai was empty. Chuuya was full of life- full of so many emotions, so much good, so much humanity- and while Dazai hated him for it more than he could ever describe, it was almost gruesome to listen to all of that energy just bleed out of him. It made him want to cringe- not just because Chuuya was being illogical and it grinded Dazai’s bitter gears whenever he couldn’t think for himself, but also because it was hard to listen to his partner sound like that.

Chuuya had it easy. He wasn’t allowed to feel this way…

“Some people are bad people. And either she was a bad person who gave you to the bad people, or the bad people just took you away and she didn’t get a say in it.”

“Why me though?”

“That question is just there to make our lives harder. Asking it won’t change anything.”

Chuuya truly looked like a kicked puppy: exhausted and in pain. The questions Chuuya was wanting answers to probably wouldn’t be something he’d ever get. And for the remaining years of his childhood, that would be hard. But he’d get over it. Or repress it. Either way, it won’t trouble him after nightmares at the age of twenty-two. Maybe then he’d have a pretty girl to cry to instead of a stone-hearted partner trying to solve everything with pragmatism just because he couldn’t face the issues he’d buried in himself either. And that he couldn’t admit how similar they were in traumatic respects, because if he did, then he’d have to think about his own wounds he’d messily stitched back together in hope of a miracle cure.

He felt sorry for Chuuya in that respect. That he knew Dazai. That Dazai was his only help right now.

He hated them both just as equally.

Dazai wanted to ask ‘why’ he ‘missed’ her so much, but he knew the answer to that question as soon as Chuuya'd mentioned his mother. He wanted the lullabies, the hair stroking, the reassurance that it was just a dream and all those scary times are behind him now. So, he asked something different instead, because it was genuinely something he’d been wanting to ask since the start of this unnaturally deep conversation. “What about Kouyou?”

“What about Ane-san?”

And Dazai seriously wanted to throttle him. Fine, Chuuya may not have his biological mother and is longing for that gentle touch, but to be too self-absorbed to realise that he got Kouyou over Mori- Dazai wanted to cry and rip his heart out. Chuuya was unbelievably ignorant- but if he let those feelings fester for any longer something bad would happen, so he swallowed. And he breathed. And he continued.

“She thinks you walk on water, Chuuya- ignoring the gravity-pun.”

“Right...” But he didn’t elaborate, and the feeling in Dazai’s chest was only growing gravely heavier.

Out of everything, this might have been the largest hatred he held over Chuuya: his jealousy for his mentor. It was pathetic how much he yearned for the older woman’s attention, but she despised him. For all his childish pranks, his past-poor hygiene, his general repulsive personality- but mostly, his affiliation with Mori. It was always Mori fucking things up for him. And it was always Kouyou training the most graceful and respected assassins. Everyone just feared Dazai. And while that method worked, that also meant ‘no fraternising with the underlings’. Chuuya never struggled to make friends.

He wanted to scold him for not recognising the rare diamonds he had in this nightmarish organisation, but coming out with something so honest, “I’ve always been jealous of you” or “You don’t understand how lucky you are” would just be a mess for him personally. If Mori ever found out… Dazai wouldn’t fear for their lives specifically, but something bad would happen and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

“Can’t you just go to her? You know, talk about your ‘feelings’, or whatever. Looks like she’d give good hugs, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Chuuya chuckled lightly. “I’m grateful for Ane-san, I am. She’s nice and everything, but she’s still my boss. I’d never go to her with this kind of stuff. I’d just feel pathetic.”

“But, what? You’ll talk to me about it?”

The boy shrugged, “we’re the same age, aren’t we? We have something in common.”

Dazai didn’t want to hear that. He had to remind himself that, no, they were different people- their issues were at opposite ends of the spectrum- even if that would make no sense if he ever dared to look into it.

Dazai didn’t reply- he didn’t know how to fake his way through that one, because by agreeing with Chuuya would just be weird for their dynamic and disagreeing would just prove something was actually wrong. But agreeing would create less implications, and Chuuya did suggest it first… Yet, before he could mutter out an “I guess” Chuuya hit him with something astronomically worse.

He hated him so much.

“Did you have a mum?”

Dazai was so happy they weren’t any closer, so grateful Chuuya wasn’t anywhere near his chest, because he might have felt his heart stop- hear shards of it rattle around in his ribs.

He couldn’t think about this- he wasn’t meant to- it wasn’t something he was over yet- but he was meant to be- Mori told him- he didn’t want him to- as far as he was concerned, Mum was- the mother who gave birth to him- wasn’t- she didn’t-

He needed to take a deep breath. But if he did- Chuuya would know something was wrong- and there wasn’t anything wrong. There wasn’t allowed to be. It was over. He’d sorted it. Mori was right: it was time to move on- always, always move on- no matter the situation, the pain- the objective was to repress and get the job done. And right now, his job was Chuuya. 

“Deep breaths, Shuuji. It’s okay.”

But he couldn’t take deep breaths.

“You're okay.”

So he settled on distantly quipping, “of course I did. I came from somewhere, Chuuya.”

Play it off. Get Chuuya to sleep. Read a book and forget.

“Did you know her?”

When Dazai focussed back in, he saw the plea in Chuuya’s eyes, the genuine wish to hear more. And the more the seconds ticked on, the addicting feeling and want to remember hit him like a truck.

He missed her.

“Yeah.” He whispered. “I knew her.”

“What was she like?”

“God, you don’t stop asking questions, do you, Chuuya?”

“Sorry.” He recoiled, remembering that the Dazai he knew had many boundaries and he’d just pounded on one of them. But what he didn’t know was that he’d actually hit that wall hard enough for it to crumble, forcing Dazai to see past that blocked memory, and want.

“She was too kind for her own good.” The words fell from his numb tongue, it was foggy as to whether he was actually the one speaking.

“So…” Chuuya eased back into his curiosity, feeling that Dazai was okay with this. Dazai was okay with this, that doesn’t mean that he should be. With Chuuya of all people. “... she was good?”

Dazai chuckled. “She was good.”

If he thought hard enough, he could imagine her hands fumbling on his coat as they went out onto their snowy estate, the way she’d wrap her arms around him as they fell into a deep snow drift, the pain in his chest from laughing too hard… compared to the agony there now she was no longer here.

“Why isn’t…” Chuuya started, and from the apprehension in his words, Dazai dreaded where this was going. “Why are you…”

“Here?”

And Chuuya nodded.

Ghosts of her haunted his mind. Euphoric ones paired with their devastating end. He logically knew what had happened, but the memories- the real events- he’d blocked. He’d thrown away the key. 

Dazai would do anything to feel her combing his hair again, anything to taste her irreplaceable meals, hear her soft voice coaxing all the bad voices out of his own head, watch her vast mind gift him so much knowledge. He’d inherited her intelligence- but not her empathy. He’d never be able to do her proud in that respect. 

She’d be so disappointed if she saw him now. And that was why he couldn’t think… It hurt too much but for selfish reasons.

He hated himself so much. So, so, so much- so much…

“It’s okay, Shuu.”

And yet, he still had the audacity to miss the sound of someone telling him it’d be okay.

“Deep breaths. Deep breaths…”

Mori didn’t care, Hirotsu was his subordinate, Kouyou hated him and he'd never let Chuuya in. No one knew like she did, and he doubted anyone ever would.

“You don’t need to hurt yourself, Shuuji. You’re beautiful. And I know that you’re in pain. And I’m sorry. But look.”

He hadn’t slept in the wounds of cloth, and he felt bare without them. Usually, long sleeves were fine and comfortable enough to doze in- but he yearned for them now. To make him safe. To secure him. To feel like…

“... Bandages?”

“Bandages.”

To feel like she was still there.

“To protect you. Keep you safe. They’ll make you itch, make you feel something a little uncomfortable, but that something is better than you hurting yourself.”

In the back of his mind.

“They’ll even leave red lines after you’re done with them. But these lines will disappear, and feel so good when you take them off at the end of the day.”

Before Mori told him to not think about it, before the thoughts of her were just too much, he’d wonder if she knew what was going to happen.

“Mamma… Why do you know so much about it?”

“Sometimes I’m in pain too, Baby.”

He wondered if she needed to give him something for the ‘just in case’.

“Is it Dad?”

He wondered whether she knew how bad that ‘just in case’ would be.

“Don’t you worry about that, okay? You worry about You. Your Mamma can take care of herself.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Shuuji.”

So many ‘What If’s. So much blame. So much injustice. So much nihilism. 

Too much complexity he didn’t need to burden Chuuya with. 

“Bad people.” Was all he said. And while Chuuya didn’t understand, he understood.

“You miss her?”

He loved her. But it was past tense. He couldn’t love her now… but he did. She had been the only thing in life that mattered once upon a time. Unfortunately, there was no room for that now. No room for any kind of love really. Not anymore.

“No.”

Chuuya shuffled slightly to relieve some tension from his shoulder, but their hands stayed connected. “You serious? You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better. I don’t care if you miss her- it’s normal.”

“And if I really didn’t miss her, I wouldn’t be normal then?”

“Well- yeah: no. You said she was good. I miss mine and I don’t even know her.”

“Good for you, but I don’t. I’m over it. Don’t see me whining about it. You asked.”

Then he felt a pressure on his hand, a light squeeze- but a squeeze nonetheless. And he felt his soul shrink back on itself at such a small gesture. Chuuya didn’t know Dazai, but there were occasions he’d shock him and call out his bullshit accurately. This felt like one of those times, but more tender.

It made his bandage-less skin crawl.

“I know you’re lying. I’m not as smart as you, but I’m not dumb. You’re not as emotional as I am, but you’re still human.”

Once more, Dazai’s blood turned cold… He’d never opened up to Chuuya about anything- never mind his disqualification at being a human being. This was a pure coincidence that he’d said the right thing- or the wrong thing. Dazai wanted to shiver.

He hated this- it was so confusing! Everyday he craved to feel something- and now he wanted to stop feel everything. He’d give up emotions forever if it meant he could stop this- forget- move on- kill Chuuya and make him pay for even attempting to make him vulnerable!

And while his blood was boiling… He couldn’t actually be angry. He blamed the thought of her. Her amnesty, weighing on him in such a frustratingly calming way.

When he remembered that he really had no one in this world, he really wondered why it was worth it. He’d tried to find a reason to live in the deaths of human beings, hoping to relate that spark in himself somewhere- but there was nothing inside of him. And he’d proven to himself that there was no one around him to live for either.

But he felt Chuuya’s hand. He looked in his eyes. And he remembered why Chuuya was in his bed to begin with.

If honesty helped Chuuya in some way, then fine. He was doing this for Chuuya. He was just doing his job.

“It’s easier to not miss her.”

And Chuuya pressed their hands tighter together again.

Fine. He assured himself. This is just for Chuuya.

“And your dad?” He asked gently, giving Dazai enough room to not answer or make it easier for him to lie entirely.

“I never had a dad.”

“I honestly always wondered if Mori was your dad.” The shorter boy chuckled, trying his best to lighten the mood… But he’d seriously chosen the wrong topic and unlike the conversation before, Dazai was going to put a stop to that right away.

His palm was glistening with sweat when he pulled his hand away, cool against the city air filtering in through the crack in the window. “That’s because you’re a dumb chibi.” He flicked his ear, rather forcefully for an ear-flick. But he was met with a texture that shouldn’t have been there and his face scrunched up disapprovingly- more offended than Chuuya was at A) the absence of No Longer Human and B) the petty violation.

“Chuuya, honestly!” He chided, sitting up with rapid speed to switch his lampshade on, taking in Chuuya’s appearance for the first time since they’d arrived in his room. The older boy squinted painfully at the light, letting out a string of curses as the dim bulb attacked his vision. Dazai ignored this though, almost completely unaffected by the illumination and he pulled his legs up right next to his partner, forcefully pulling his head into his hands.

“Dazai!”

“Hold still-” Lifting up a lock of hair brushing over his ears, Dazai immediately found the provoker of such disgust.

“Do you mind?!”

“Do you mind having an itchy scalp for weeks? Because that’s what you’ll get if you continue being such a dirty dog. The shampoo to fix that isn’t fun, you know.”

“I don’t need fucking dog shampoo!”

Dazai rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about dog shampoo. It’s very much human shampoo created for feral mutts like you: learn how to wash out the conditioner behind your ears!"

His bony fingers went to work with pulling out lumps of the cleaner from the base of his roots, flicking the flakes somewhere on his floor for him to hoover up in the morning. It’s not like Mori would see the collection anyway if he was to walk in randomly.

“Quit-” Chuuya struggled, but the way he was crashed and almost head locked in Dazai arms made it more difficult than it should be. “Oh my god, Dazai- let go of me!”

Alas, it was as if Dazai never heard him as he continued to bend his ear back to inspect the damage behind the fold. “You need to learn how to wash your hair. I get you were ‘deprived’ or whatever, but I’m honestly questioning how you survived this long- never mind how you led an entire organisation on top of that.” He was honestly bewildered at both Chuuya’s incompetence and the fact he hadn’t noticed this earlier in the other boy’s room. What?!

The final straw being Dazai trying to scrape out the crust with his nail, Chuuya snapped himself away, so violently that he almost fell off the other side of the bed, gripping his ear like it had been bitten or something. “What the fuck?!”

“You’re not even supposed to use conditioner on the scalp, Chuuya. Do you not read the bottle?”

“It’s just stuff that goes on your hair. There’s not much to it!”

“And yet you messed it up anyway.” Dazai sighed, holding his head in his hands melodramatically. “Take a shower now. And if not now, then before we go to work. God.”

Chuuya just flopped down into the pillows with a huff. “I’ll do it in the morning, Bastard.”

“I’m just looking out for you! A chibi should be grateful he’s got his normal-sized overlooker to ward away the boots trying to step on him.”

“Bitch, you’re also short for your age!”

“Chibiko, you can’t make comments when I’m literally growing an inch a week.”

“You are not literally growing an inch a week.”

Dazai sighed, faux-pitifully. “Denial is such a sorry sight.”

“It’s too late for your bullshit- GET OFF MY HAIR!”

Avoiding the swing of Chuuya’s arm by simply dropping down into the bedding, Dazai just giggled to himself at his partner’s expense. “Such a dirty dog.”

“Shut up.”

Dazai reached under the duvet, pulling Chuuya’s dog-blanket hood over his hair again. “And please have some decency, Chuuya, to keep your fleas to yourself.”

“Shut up.”

And ‘shut up’ they did. After Dazai chuckled obnoxiously, they both sunk back down into the sheets, reaching for each other’s hand systematically. Neither of them could sleep, but that was okay. Dazai personally knew that he probably wouldn't be getting any sleep until tomorrow night, but Chuuya still had a chance. Hopefully, he had done his job and calmed the boy down enough to some semblance of normalcy. He’d turned the lamp off already, but he could still make out Chuuya’s expressions in the darkness. He had his eyes fastened forcibly closed, occasionally opening them and sighing when that wouldn't work, accompanied with a tired sigh. He gently stroked where their hands connected, rubbing his thumb over Chuuya’s when slumber was just cruelly teasing him.

Their silence must have lasted a long time since Dazai was able to run over multiple strategies for their bust tomorrow- how there was an Ability user at the head that could potentially give Chuuya a run for his money. He’d pretty much smoothed over all the finer details, but calculating their route of action down to the smallest misstep of the enemy was Dazai’s favourite pastime. Hours could pass by when he was trapped in that state of mind, and he wouldn't even notice. Of course, he doubted it had been over an hour at that point. But it was a while before he heard an utterance from Chuuya, even though it was more of a frustrated whimper.

“The angrier you get, the more adrenaline in your blood, the more awake you are.”

Chuuya grunted, shuffling closer to where their hands met in the middle. “Please give me a sedative I know for a fact you keep under your pillow or something.”

“They’re in my wardrobe actually. And they are strictly for suicidal purposes only. Just one of those would knock you out for way longer than our alarm clocks.”

“... Remind me to take those off you in the morning.”

“Think about how stupid you sound in that sentence, Chuuya.”

“Fuck you.” And after a flick on the nose from Dazai, they both settled down again, Chuuya shuffling another inch closer to both of their hands. “What do you do when you can’t sleep?”

“Not sleep.”

And Chuuya shoved him lightly. “I’m serious.”

“And so am I?”

“But that’s not the only answer, Asshole.”

“I don’t know! Wank?”

A bright laugh erupted from Chuuya’s throat, coaxing a smile onto Dazai’s lips. “That's the advice you want me to take? Right now?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

And their laughs melted into small chuckles. “What did your mum do?”

Dazai jumped, not only at the sound of this subject again but because of the whiplash between conversations. “I’m concerned that we just joked about masturbating and you immediately went to ask about my mother again.”

“Because that’s what I was trying to ask you before, but you’re just dense!”

“Rude.”

Chuuya strained his middle finger up from their tangle of hands before continuing. “So, what did she do when you couldn’t sleep?”

Dazai thought they were past this and he just wanted to curl up in a ball and die… But Chuuya looked even more pathetic than he usually did, and talking about her was like some kind of drug to him- happiness intoxicated him. Something that was so alien to him, he curiously collected all of the tiny little shards like some degenerate gremlin camping out in a damp cave. Joy to him was like meth to an addict, and considering any semblance of contentedness was condensed to such a short part of his life, he held onto it so tightly, protected it so valiantly, he had to store it in the darkest forests of his mind just to keep it from the void in his soul. But whenever someone would try and coax it out, it was like it was on a spring as it hurtled itself into his hands… like an addiction.

“I’m not singing you a lullaby, Chuuya.”

“So, she sang to you?”

Dazai smiled to himself, both at the memory and Chuuya’s child-like eagerness. “Yes.”

She had the most melodic voice Dazai had ever heard. It wasn't something he inherited- but then again, something like that wasn’t genetic: it was spiritual.

“What else?”

He breathed slowly in distant, light-years-away thought, “I guess she’d read to me. Sometimes we’d go out for walks. Other times she’d just…” 

“You are not a monster. Don't let anyone make you believe that. You're my boy. Never forget how much I love you, Shuu.”

“... stay.”

The boy hummed in understanding, in a small absence of speech as if he was trying to imagine those kind touches happening to himself. Then slowly, his eyes shifted from the ceiling and landed on his partner, almost inquisitively.

“You remind me of a mum to be honest.”

Dazai's soul left his body. He physically recoiled, keeping their hands tied but sitting up- as if getting a better angle of Chuuya’s face would help him understand what the fuck he’d just spouted.

“ W h a t ? ”

“You have vanilla scented candles for Christ’s sake.”

Dazai was utterly perplexed. Candles..? WHAT?!

“Chuuya,” he chuckled, almost manically in disbelief. “I don’t think I’m a model parent.”

“Oh, fuck no.” He fired back, insultingly sure of Dazai’s incompetence. “It’s not like that. You’re just… always fretting over me. Like, just tonight you’ve scolded me because my room was messy, tried to clean it up, made sure my favourite blanket was wrapped properly over my shoulders when I was scared I was about to have a panic attack, let me sleep in your bed and decided to ‘de-lice’ me, or whatever the fuck that was. And I mean, look at our apartment- it’s spotless. Like you can’t take care of yourself so you distract yourself with other people.”

There was an uncomfortable twist in his chest, arguably more uneasy than having to talk about his mother. So, he of course tried to brush it off with a condescending laugh- when in reality, he was bewildered. “I’m many things, Chuuya, but a selfless Samaritan isn’t one of them.”

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Chuuya's eyes narrowed... almost pitifully.

“Don’t make it sound like I’m the dumb one here; you’re trying to say I’m a nurturing human being, when I tell you to stop being pathetic when people die, when I push you so far that you have to hit me, when I use you like a pawn against your will?” Dazai spat those facts a little too emotional for his liking. Everyone knew he was suicidal, so everyone could just about figure out that he despised himself, his very existence. But it was never something he’d admit to explicitly. Suicide was a fun mask; the feelings underneath were not. And he was never going to admit how weak he actually was.

Still, Chuuya just barged straight past those defences he’d set up. He liked to think he could control everyone, but Chuuya was a loose cannon when he wanted to be. He hated it. “But you’re here now. And you’re always here after you do any of that shit.”

“... I hate to break it to you, Chibi, but that sounds like I gaslight you.” He deadpanned patronisingly. “You shouldn’t hold that in a positive light, it will just be disastrous for your future relationships.”

“But it’s not like that.” The boy persisted, also sitting up as straight as their entwined hands allowed them both to do. “You don’t try to ‘win me back’ or anything. You get me and my dumb impulses out of a dangerous situation and make sure I’m okay afterwards.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Dazai could feel a strange fire burn up in his chest- something so frustrated at Chuuya, at himself, at his traumas, at his life. The words came tumbling out before he could even think- and even if he did stop to think, he doubted he’d have even seen what was right in front of his nose, so far in self-denial it was embarrassing.  

With too much confidence, too much supercilious assurity, Dazai finally blurted one of the most confusing sentences he’d ever conjured- and yet, so simple- and so, completely devastating. “You are my responsibility, Chuuya!”

That was when he heard it. It was useless trying to throw it around in his head: now it was out in the world- now he understood. And his face had never ever burned so brightly.

He couldn’t wait to see Chuuya’s blurry expression in the darkness, it would be too humiliating. Dazai broke the connection between their hands to turn on his side, away from whatever demeaning grin was pulled over those devious lips. 

He grumbled, words muffled by the fluff of the pillowcase. “Go to bed.”

“I’m already in bed.”

“Don’t-” But he stopped himself, crushingly insecure about everything he was saying from that point on. Especially regarding Chuuya.

“‘Don’t back chat’?” He could hear the smirk in his voice.

“No!” He barked back, seriously not helping his case- but he was too shook to correct his behaviour. It was too late now anyway; Chuuya definitely had the upper hand. “I was going to say ‘don’t be a petulant child’- but that also has implications so I’m shutting up now.”

“It’s funny; you’re younger than me and everything.”

Dazai spun around ferally to finally see the amused expression worn by his enemy’s face. “By less than two months. And you’re still shorter than me, so you’re only insulting yourself!”

“Sounds like you’re very insulted though.”

He grappled for words, for some perfect comeback to erase this entire conversation- but there was none. Fuck.

Dazai gave up. “Go to sleep else I ground you.”

“HA!”

And, honestly, he couldn’t not smile either. Chuuya was ridiculous. He’s just lucky Dazai could find humour in an accusation like that.

“Goodnight, Chuuya.” And with a warning too soft to be a threat, Dazai turned his back again, nestling down against his pillow soundly.

A lot of time passed once more, it must have been nearing 3AM- so they only had two more hours left before it was a reasonable time to call it quits and get ready for work. Dazai actually felt like sleep was starting to take him in his new position, hugged by his thick duvet- and while Chuuya wasn’t asleep, his breathing was calm, and actually quite nice to listen to. Arahabaki must have calmed down on his own, or just realised that his vessel was only a touch away from nullifying him again if he tried anything else.

On the verge of sleep, Dazai heard a small utterance of his name, quiet- just in case he’d actually managed to achieve a state of unconsciousness. But he hadn’t. And he heard Chuuya. And he felt Chuuya, pulling the hem of his hoodie.

Wordlessly, he rolled over again, so he was propped up slightly by the pillows on his back. Chuuya had been held up by his elbows, trying to get a view of the younger boy’s face, meaning it was easy to pull his head down to rest against Dazai’s chest. Back to familiarity. 

Dazai repressed the comment from earlier, disregarded the slight warmth in his core at the full weight of another person under his hands and safe between the wrap of his legs.

He felt his partner sigh.

Long fingers stroked those wild curls as a selfish, sleepy excuse to just hold them together a bit tighter. He ignored the clumps of conditioner he wasn’t actually grossed out by, and resisted the urge to start picking them out again like an ape.

Silently, he thought about his mother. Just his mother. And he chose to hold Chuuya in a way he wished he could be wrapped up like again… In a way he knew Chuuya longed for.

So, Dazai did his job. As a partner, he stroked his hair until they could see the morning light seep through the cracks in his curtains, and for a little bit longer.

As if he was just waiting for her to walk through the door: to tell them it’s morning.