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Rain ran red in Yokohama. Tinged with blood, blackened by darkness. The mafiosos were used to such a sight.
But for now, they were safe. Four walls protected them from the onslaught outside. Just the two of them.
“You have to eat something, Chuuya.”
Chuuya shook his head with a frown, wincing at the slight movements. “Not hungry…”
Dazai did the best he could to clean Chuuya up but there was still evidence of Corruption ’s recent usage. There always was. Bruises littered his frame, cuts a dark red from dried blood. Even worse were his eyebags; they dragged down his face, creating a show of someone who’s many years older than 18.
“It’s okayu. It’ll help you feel better.” Dazai pushed the spoon closer to Chuuya’s lips, butting the edge against them.
Like a stubborn mule, Chuuya turned away, shooting him a nasty glare. “You probably poisoned it.”
The accusation stung a bit. Dazai may not be the best partner by any means, much less a good person, but striking someone when they were sick was a low blow even by his standards. “You’ll get worse tomorrow. Stop being stubborn and just eat it already.”
He moved the bowl closer, intending on forcing Chuuya to at least take a single bite. But Chuuya turned at the same time, knocking into the bowl and causing it to spill. The reaction was immediate:
“God, if you’re not going to help then just fucking leave!”
Dazai pulled the bowl back, “I–”
“I don’t care for your shitty excuses.” His voice sounded exhausted , even with anger lining each word. “Just hurry up and laugh at me and leave .”
“That’s not what–”
“Just get out!” Chuuya sat up enough to backhand the bowl, tossing it out of Dazai’s hands and causing it to shatter on the floor. The okayu spread across the wood, seeping into the cracks.
Dazai stood up without a word, brushing non-existent dust off his pants. He grabbed his coat from where he left it thrown over the back of the chair, opened the door, and disappeared into the night.
No one knew where Dazai went to. Chuuya wasn’t sure if he had a home or not, considering he forced himself into Chuuya’s apartment back when they were 17.
It didn’t matter to him, truthfully. He could be dead in a ditch somewhere and Chuuya wouldn’t care less. The bastard even forced him to clean up the broken ceramic and wasted food.
What angered Chuuya the most, however, was that Dazai was right. At least yesterday he could move around, even if it did cause him great pain and it felt like there were rocks in his limbs.
He wasn’t sure what time it was or how many days it had been. His body felt like it was burning him from the inside out despite shivering from the cold. It felt like his skull was trying to collapse in on itself. He could hear the pattering of water hit the ground outside his closed window.
Every breath felt overwhelming and he thought he was going to die. This was how it always ended up.
He was too busy writhing in agony to realise there was another presence in the room.
“See? I told you.” The voice sounded distant, foggy and barely there. It was difficult to concentrate through the cotton stuffing his brain. “You should’ve ate yesterday.”
“Stupid…” Chuuya tried to open his eyes to glare, but the movement caused instant nausea to hit him. It took a couple seconds for it to die down.
“When was the last time you drank?” Dazai moved around the small bedroom, grabbing the empty glass on the nightstand and disappearing. A few seconds later he returned, putting down the glass silently so as to not make any unnecessary noise. “You have to eat something today.”
“... smell like rain.” The beginning of the sentence was muffled by the pillow, the rest only heard as barely a mutter. Dazai’s coat clung heavy against his frame.
Something cold pressed against Chuuya’s forehead, followed by a quiet curse. “You’re burning up.”
“Not important. Happens every time.”
Dazai stared at him blankly, devoid of emotion. A careful mask he adorned to prevent anyone from peering into him. “I’ll go get an ice pack.”
It was hard to stay conscious. The pain was unbearable. Even moving his eyes caused the world to spin and bile to burn his throat. But if there was one thing he’s learned in the past 3 years of their partnership was to never trust Dazai fully.
“I also brought you more okayu. I got someone else to make it this time.”
The ice pack brought a few seconds of relief before it turned oppressive. Suffocating. “‘m cold…”
“Don’t take off the ice pack. Here, open your mouth.”
There was no flavour other than a wisp of rice. It was a perfect lukewarm temperature. Eating it was pleasant, even if swallowing felt more like he was trying to down a handful of nails.
Dazai pulled the spoon back, humming quietly. It was a song Chuuya never heard before. It was soothing. “Take another bite.”
Any resistance Chuuya had was gone. He obeyed slightly, feeling the water-logged rice hit his tongue and fill his stomach.
There was only Dazai’s humming, his occasional words, and rain. It was peaceful.
Peace never lasted long between them.
“Why are you here?” It was still difficult to think, but the food and water gave him enough strength to fight through the fog for just a bit.
“Hm?” Dazai raised a brow, scraping the side of the bowl for some more of the food. It was plain white. Chuuya just realised the bowl yesterday was the only one Dazai bought. “Is it wrong for me to take care of my poor, sick partner?”
“You never do, bastard.” None of the times prior did Dazai ever stick around. He did the bare minimum of cleaning him off and dumping him in bed. Most of the time, he didn’t even bother to do the former.
There was a shrug. “Change of heart, I guess.”
That felt like the end of the conversation. His gut told him it was a mistake to continue it any longer. “That doesn’t make sense. You don’t have a heart.”
“... Open.”
Dazai wasn’t humming any longer. He wasn’t talking any longer than that single word. Only the sound of rain remained.
Chuuya was unconscious for 3 days. Dazai helped him the entire time, refusing to leave even if Mori called him. That would have consequences in the future.
But Dazai didn’t care. All he cared about was making sure Chuuya would recover as soon as possible.
It wasn’t a lie when he said he had a change of heart. Truth is, he realised he loved him. When his life was on-the-line, Corruption activating at the last possible second to prevent his death, Dazai realised his world would’ve been gone. He didn’t know how to process it, so he didn’t. Out of something like guilt (or fear), he stood by his side and made sure his body got proper nutrients.
Now that Chuuya was awake, Dazai was afraid. Afraid he’d pry and force him to spill. Afraid he’d ask that question again, the one he could never answer.
Dazai rarely got what he wanted.
“Why are you still here?” It didn’t make any sense to Chuuya. He should’ve been long gone by then instead of babysitting him.
“Are you feeling better?” The subject was changed as smoothly as liquid. Chuuya wouldn’t let it go.
“You always leave me. Why’d you take care of me this time?”
There was no response.
“What do you want?”
“Why do you think I want something?” Dazai walked past the bed, cracking open the window. The room was incredibly stuffy. The scent of rainfall spilled in.
“You always want something, bastard. You don’t do goodness for the fun of it.”
Dazai watched yellow light blink in and out from the window, raindrops sliding down the glass. “Wanted to try something new.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes with a huff, downing the rest of his water. “Fine,” he muttered, putting on a mocking tone, “Goody-Goody two-shoes Dazai is here! How could I forget.”
Dazai was frowning when he turned around. Though his eyes didn’t match the expression, like they didn’t know how. Or like he didn’t know what he was feeling. “I was only trying to help out.”
“But why ?”
His nose scrunched the same way it did when he got punched. “I just did. Do I need a reason?”
“There’s always a method to your madness.” Chuuya was starting to get angry. He could feel For The Tainted Sorrow burn at his fingertips, begging to be released.
“Do you need anything?” Dazai closed the window, drawing the curtains shut.
“For you to tell me what you want or leave.”
“Do you really want me gone that badly?” There was something honest in his eyes. Fragile like cracked glass. Chuuya felt nothing but the urge to break it, too driven on anger from the pain and fever.
“Are you just realising that now? And here I thought you were smart.”
They say eyes are the windows to your soul. But for someone without a soul, the windows only peered into void. “I see. Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”
They were cruel to each other. Unnecessarily so most times. Pride was taken in high regard to the both of them, venom lacing almost every word they share. Kindness was suspicious, a means to an end.
“Oh.” Dazai stopped at the doorway, fishing something out of his pocket and putting it on the stand. Chuuya pushed himself up with his elbows, reaching over to grab it. An envelope. “Read it whenever. Or don’t. I don’t care.”
There were a few quiet footsteps followed by the sound of a door opening, then closing. And then there was nothing.
“Stupid no-good bastard…” Chuuya huffed, tossing the envelope to the side without care and curling up in bed. Exhaustion was still a constant for him, threatening him into slumber.
Dazai didn’t come back to their apartment. He didn’t come back to work. It was a month before people started getting nervous about it.
Chuuya, as much as he wouldn’t admit, was too. He wasn’t sure what Dazai had put in that okayu but there had to have been something . He felt dizzy remembering all the nasty things he said to him while ill, finally of the right mind to recognise it wasn’t what he had thought.
He hung his hat and coat on the rack, turning on the lights. He made a beeline for his bedroom, scouring around until he found what he was looking for.The envelope was crumbled, stepped on and abused into the corner of his room.
He hadn’t opened it. Had never cared enough to. Always figured Dazai would eventually crawl back to him, as he always did.
The penmanship was remarkable. Each letter was neat, almost like it was printed. But Chuuya could see the minute differences in the strokes of ink, could see where he refilled his pen and continued.
It was 5 words.
“I love you. I’m sorry.”
That was all Chuuya needed to see to know. He didn’t need any more information. Carefully, he folded back up the paper and secured it into the envelope, leaving his apartment and walking for an unknown amount of time. He ended up on the shoreline.
Lighter in hand, he moved the flame to the corner of the paper. It instantly caught, greedy to devour the dry fuel against the humid air.
He watched as the ashes fell, mixing with the coarse sand underfoot. The ocean was silent. Only a few stars shone in the sky.
Once the flame reached the place he was holding it, he let it go. It was gone not even a second later. Any evidence was destroyed, secrets only known between the two of them. Emotions pushed aside, always lingering like a parasite in their heads.
Chuuya wasn’t sure if he’d ever see Dazai again. But, at least he now knew why his heart ached. He now had a word to name it.