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It’s truly a sight you thought you would never come to witness.
“Osamu, no! I told you to say in bed .”
Well, a sight you thought you would never come to witness regarding him .
Of course, you’ve seen him sick before. With every single method he tried to perform (and always failed to accomplish and get you to join him), there were a few times when you watched him do something a little more than stupid. And those were the times when you were stuck at home brewing him a thermos full of tea to solve a sore throat or whatever problem he caused for himself. Hell, you even helped him out with the occasional ear infection or two.
So yesterday when he told you he was going to stand outside in the freezing cold in hopes that hypothermia would get him- you didn’t stop him. Because sure enough, he realized that he didn’t want to slowly freeze to death. That there were much better things than that. Things like falling asleep at your side after taking a nice, hot bath and sipping on the bowl of soup you so generously left out for him so that he had something waiting for him when he was ready to come back inside.
But yesterday ended so normally for you two. It ended with no breakthroughs. With no fireworks With no parades. With nothing . That’s why you’re so surprised to see him like this.
He who was always caught skipping work. He who was always caught slacking off. He who was always caught taking the easy way out. He who was always caught pushing his responsibilities off to whoever the closest party was- simply because he didn’t want to. Yet here he was. Standing right and tall in front of you. All dressed up a day out. Despite the fact you had already called the office to tell them that he was too sick to attend work today
When you made the call almost an hour ago this morning, it was Kunikida who answered. And you weren’t surprised at all when he was quick to write off your concern for Dazai as him just being lazy. You couldn’t blame him either. The man did have a record. Both inside and outside of the office. But you found that Kunikida was quick to change his mind about forcing Dazai to come on in when the man in question plucked the phone out of your hand and insisted that he was fine and that he’d be coming in regardless of what you told everyone.
Naturally, Kunikida believed that a Dazai willing to come into work despite the fact that the Armed Detective Agency had no pressing matter at hand meant that man he was speaking to right now was so ill that bedrest, a grocery list of homemade remedies (which very helpful Kenji supplied you all with), a doctor’s visit should be required and executed at once. And when Dazai turned his head to see you nodding along with every suggestion, he promptly hung up and retreated to your shared bedroom.
You had hoped that meant he took at least part of Kunikida’s advice to heart. It was easy to say that you did based on the way you had booked a doctor to stop by the apartment in a few hours and were currently looking up the benefits of ginger and peppermint tea. But that all changed when you heard the door to your bedroom open up to reveal a standard-looking work-ready Osamu Dazai. With the lovely addition of pale skin, a red nose, bags underneath his eyes, and a miserable expression spread across his face.
“I told you, I’m fine-” He tries to tell you as he puts his hand out to prevent you from coming any closer but you’re not going to listen. It’s a couple of quick steps from the kitchen to reach where he is and you’re thankful that despite his overall difficult attitude in this moment, he doesn’t attempt to push you away when you get up close. “Its a just a little cold. It’s not worth fussing over.”
“ Osamu. ” You stress the syllables of his name quietly, watching as he deflates underneath your concerned gaze. His shoulders sag almost instantly and his head hangs low, a messy curtain of his bangs keeping his eyes away almost away from your view. You take your time and reach your hand out- going up and up and up until you’re able to rest your hand on the side of his face. You’re gentle as you bring his head back up to meet your gaze and you almost melt at the uncharacteristically guilty expression he gives you. You cup his cheek tenderly, your thumb coming up to rub small circles right below his eyelid. You make careful note of how much warmer his body seemed than when he first woke up and you took his temperature. If only he knew… “...I don’t understand. Why on earth would you try to go in today?”
If only he knew how much you worry for him.
He opens his mouth to say something. But then he hesitates. Instead, the sound that comes out is a defeated sigh. It’s a clear testament to what he’s feeling right now. Even if he’s so reluctant to tell you. The real Dazai- the real Osamu that you’ve known and that you’ve loved ever since you were a teenager? You know he would be dying for the chance to take advantage of a bad-sounding cough and turn it into a five-day vacation. But he’s not . He’s not being overly dramatic about a situation he could easily take advantage of. He’s not being humorous and making jokes about his less-than-ideal health at the moment. He’s just not . And because of that?
He’s scaring you.
When you woke up this morning to his quiet groans of pain and discomfort beside you, you weren’t sure what to think. But he try to persuade you that he was fine. When you took his temperature despite his protests and found that he was running a relatively high fever, you weren’t sure what to do. But he try to assure you that it was nothing. When he was slow and sluggish with all his movements. When he had difficulty responding to all your questions about symptoms. He insisted that despite his appearance, and the way he sounded, and the way he felt, and the way that his condition had absolutely every possibility of getting way worse if he went outside and tried to work in these conditions, he try to promise you that he was okay. That he would be smart. That he would be careful. That you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. But that’s the thing. You can’t. You can’t not worry about him.
You just can’t.
“Osamu?” You call his name again when he doesn’t give you a proper response to the question you asked earlier. A thousand thoughts are swirling in your head right now. A thousand thoughts that all have to do with him. All about how you don’t understand him. All about how you want to understand him. All about how you don’t know how to reach him. All about how you want to reach him. All about how you don’t know how to help him. “Osamu, you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. But…can we…”
All about how you want to help him.
“...can we just get you back to bed, Osamu? Please ?”
All about how you worry for him.
“... okay…”
All about how you’ll always worry for him.