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Chuuya shivers under the blankets he’s wrapped himself in, the sound of rain being a horrible aching blur of noise slamming itself onto the concrete streets outside. His nails dig into the soft fabric of the blanket, he’s seeking warmth, yet he gets none of it. Chuuya grits his teeth as he curses the sky itself, staring out the window he’s unfortunately placed right next to. If he could free himself from this horrible position, he would, but crawling out of the bed he was explicitly instructed to not get out of due to the possibility of angering his injuries would end terribly.
He feels his teeth grind together as his nails dig deeper into the blankets, and he hates it; the sounds of his own mouth sound awful, and his breath hitches as it escapes his mouth as a result. He’s been near tears for hours, yet, nothing has allowed him to escape this grief.
His hands trembled as a flash from outside the window accompanied the loud strike of lightning, and Chuuya couldn’t help but let out a sob.
The door opening causes Chuuya to frantically wipe at the tears finally releasing themselves from his eyes, but he can’t really stop it—and he curses the skies once again as another lightning strike causes him to flinch so badly he pulls one of the blankets over himself. Quieter sobs haunt him as he hears footsteps slowly get closer, he wants to stop, he hates the timing of his own emotions, but a hand gently sets itself on his shoulder.
“Hatrack,” the tone is soft; which is unfamiliar. The voice is familiar, though, of course the nickname is as well.
Another hand gently takes the blanket off of Chuuya, and he almost immediately grasps for the blanket, it’s his only source of comfort and protection against the thunderstorm outside after all. His gaze makes the mistake of drifting to who’d pulled the blanket off of him, and he pauses.
Dazai’s familiar, stupid face greets him. But no smirk decorates it this time, no snarky comment escapes from the man’s mouth; his eye staring at Chuuya. Chuuya blinks, confused, not saying a word. He feels like he
can’t,
like the words are caught in his throat, yet he has so much he wants to say. He wants to ask why. He wants to yell at Dazai. But he physically can’t, and he hates it. It seems to have shown on his face his predicament, as Dazai tilts his head to the side as he removes his hand off of Chuuya’s shoulder.
Chuuya just sticks his tongue out before another sob surprises him and he coughs, his head dropping down as he stares at the floor. One of Dazai’s hands places itself on top of Chuuya’s head, and while Chuuya wouldn’t like to admit it, it served as a new source of comfort. He wondered, slightly, where Dazai had placed the blanket.
For a moment, just a split moment—Chuuya forgot about the storm outside, tranquility lingered, allowing his body to relax.
The loud sound of thunder and lightning snapped him out of the calm state, though, and he jolted, almost retorting violently away from Dazai. Dazai blinked, glancing out the window; at the drowned glass pane that separated Chuuya from being completely soaked, before he looked back at Chuuya. It seemed to click, then, to Dazai, what was happening.
Chuuya breathed rapidly and quickly, practically hyperventilating while processing the sounds that had clashed together like an awful monster roaring; and if he could shout, if he could speak, he would’ve cursed the sky once more for unleashing such a monster to haunt him. His body was tensed up, for whatever reason, as if the monster would come barrelling in through the window and tear him to shreds.
But no monster came.
No, instead, a soft tune started playing in Chuuya’s ears, and he blinked. It takes him a few seconds to feel and realize the headphones placed on him, and his eyes dart around—confusion is clear in his eyes, until… his gaze shifts back to Dazai. Dazai’s giving him a mischievous smile as he notices Chuuya slowly steady his breathing, and his body loses some of the tension it was feeling. Chuuya would make a snarky comment if he could, about how Dazai
never
shares his headphones,
never ever
would he dare use his precious headphones on a
hatrack
like Chuuya. But he doesn’t, his words are still caught in his throat; and perhaps that’s why Dazai takes advantage of this situation.
He gracefully spins for a moment, before placing himself next to Chuuya, leaning back as the coat on his shoulders slides off, just a little. “Can you hear me?”
Chuuya decides, even if he can’t use his words, he can still fuck with him, at least. He pretends not to hear him.
“..Haatrack?” Dazai waves a hand in front of his face, and Chuuya glances at his hand before back at him. “Can you hearrr me?”
Chuuya sniffles and holds back a laugh, which causes him to cough a little instead. Dazai pouts, seeming to have believed the trickery, maybe. Chuuya opens his mouth, but again, nothing comes out. He grits his teeth, slightly in genuine frustration and faux frustration. He wishes he could say something right now.
Dazai suddenly cups his face, and Chuuya blinks a couple times as he stares directly at Dazai, a small tilt to the side—an accidental lean into the touch—indicates his curiosity. Dazai seems to mess with the headphones, humming as he does so… and the soft music becomes even softer; loud enough to block out the painful sound of rain, thunder, and lightning, but with how close Dazai is, his voice is crystal clear.
Chuuya hopes the slight heat creeping onto his cheeks is not visible blush to Dazai.
“Alright, Chuuya, can you hear me now?”
There’s no point in lying and fucking around more now, so Chuuya nods. He doesn’t know if he can handle Dazai leaning in any closer, anyway.
Dazai’s sly, familiar smirk decorates his face, finally. “Good. Now, Mori said you aren’t supposed to get out of this bed, which I think is stupid! You’re my dog-”
Chuuya’s eyes narrow into a glare,
“-which means I should decide whether or not that’s true, yees, yes, he’s the Port Mafia’s boss and doctor, buuut... I guess he’s right, in some way. I overworked you during the last assignment.”
Chuuya pauses at that.
“That’s why you have those scars, after all.”
He almost forgot about those, honestly, and his gaze shifts to the nails still digging into the blankets, then to his hands. Scars that look more like carvings decorate them now, when before, the only other thing there was freckles.
Chuuya himself wasn’t quite sure what happened in the assignment, he was instructed by Dazai to use Corruption—and he did. But something went wrong. When he woke up, he was in excruciating pain, hearing pleas- pleas from Dazai to not move, and he felt like he was bleeding all over. Chuuya made the mistake of glancing at his arms, his legs, his body, and none of them looked like they belonged to him. The new scars decorating his skin were from Arahabaki, not him. Those weren’t his scars, they were Arahabaki’s. No one told him what happened after that, he remembers his eyes widening and blood pouring out of his mouth before he falls into unconsciousness again. When he woke up, Mori was tending to him. His memories are fuzzy, and he isn’t quite sure what injuries he sustained besides the usual from Corruption’s aftermath and the strange scars; but he was strictly instructed to not leave this room.
“You were in a strange state,” Dazai sighed, starting to begin an explanation, the explanation Chuuya so badly wanted. “It was like you hadn’t fully escaped from Corruption’s grasp. And, like the fool I was, I let go of you as you regained consciousness– forgetting that my ability might’ve not fully ‘freed’ you.”
That confused Chuuya, he wasn’t sure what to say, all words went like a tide going out. His throat wouldn’t allow any sound besides coughs out of his mouth.
“That’s not the point.” Dazai switches the topic around like he just spun a table around. “I came here to make sure you’re not bored, and clearly the sky is terrorizing my dog! So I had to stop that.”
Chuuya made a face at Dazai, which caused him to chuckle, finally letting go of Chuuya’s face.
“Of course, I can’t leave you bored here. I brought some fun with me.” One of his hands reached into his coat, and he gestured with his free hand for Chuuya to hold out a hand. Chuuya hesitated, unsure if he should, but in the end—he finally stopped clawing the blankets, offering both of his hands out in a slight cup shape. Dazai placed a video game console into his hands.
“Can you use those?” Dazai poked at Chuuya’s hands, receiving his answer by Chuuya swatting at him. “Good, because your entertainment will be aaa… I wouldn’t say a rematch, but it’ll be a battle of games once again.”
Chuuya snorted, nodding as a familiar competitiveness started to flare up in his eyes.
The tension in his body released mostly, and while he still was shaking, he wasn’t focusing on it.
The headphones helped, Dazai took note of that, Chuuya could tell. And the gaming would serve as a distraction from any other lingering feelings. This was definitely planned, if Chuuya had to guess, but… that was okay. He liked this plan.
He turned the console on, staring at the light slowly emitting the dark, gloomy room. A grin slipped onto his face as he recognized the game. Dazai took advantage of that, wrapping the blankets around Chuuya more securely swiftly before turning on his own console. “Give me all you got, snail.”
Chuuya didn’t need to make a snarky comeback, Dazai could already hear Chuuya calling him ‘mackerel’.
…The infamous Double Black tuned out the rest of the world; for hours, it was just them silently communicating; through facial expressions, hand gestures… they didn’t need words to know the other’s comebacks, to know the other’s insults. The words were brought to life just by the two simply exchanging a glance.
For one night, Double Black were just two normal teenagers.
Chuuya paid no attention to the time, sticking his tongue out and throwing his middle finger up at Dazai seemed so often that it felt like the distraction only lasted for half an hour. But, as the sky became darker, as the rain slowly became less of a downpour and more of a drizzle, as the stars slightly shined, it dawned on Chuuya that Dazai had managed to distract him for at least a few hours.
Dazai snatched the game console out of Chuuya’s hands, laughing as Chuuya clenched his fists when the ‘game over’ popped up on the screen. “Alright, alright, while I’ve had plenty of fun, you do need rest.”
He’d silently protest more if a yawn didn’t prove Dazai’s point.
Dazai turned off both of the consoles, slipping them back into his coat as he moved to get up—
But Chuuya craved something, he craved the gentle, soft comforting touch Dazai had exposed him to. So he leaned forward and grabbed Dazai’s wrist. Dazai paused, staring at Chuuya, and that made him realize that he’d barely moved at all during their interaction. This was the most movement he’d done. A tinge of soreness coursed through him, and he gritted his teeth.
“Ah, right,” Dazai grabbed the headphones, getting close to Chuuya again (and Chuuya could only pray he didn’t see the blush sneaking onto his face) and removing the headphones. “I need these.”
He moved to get up, yet Chuuya still held onto his wrist. Dazai overdramatically sighed, glancing at him, snorting. “What? Do you want cuddles?”
…
It had been a joke.
The pause, though, gave away that Dazai’s guess hadn’t really been false, despite being a joke.
“..Oh. Hm, fine.” Dazai sat back down. “Make room for me.”
Chuuya wiggled out of the blankets, pushing them to the side as he laid down. Dazai snorted again, slipping his coat off and placing it next to the blankets before also lying down.
Dazai noticed Chuuya’s hands were still shaky, and with how small Chuuya’s hands were, Dazai caressed them with one hand, while the other hand ran its way through Chuuya’s ginger hair. Chuuya’s blush snuck more onto his face, and he stuck his tongue out as he scooted closer to Dazai, clearly hoping Dazai didn’t notice the blush—but at this point, it was so obvious that it was hard to miss.
“Cute,” Dazai murmured, chuckling as Chuuya curled up slightly and became more red, his eyes narrowing into a glare of daggers.
The two slowly entangled themselves with each other; intertwined like two flowers blossoming together. Dazai watched Chuuya, he watched him breathe, he watched him move; he watched him be alive. Subconsciously, the hand that was originally resting in the redhead’s hair slowly made its way down to his neck, then slightly more to place itself where his heart was.
Chuuya’s heartbeat was calming to Dazai. He never knew why. It was as normal as any other heartbeat; it was a human’s heartbeat, yet it still seemed so fascinating to him. It had this fierceness to it, which made no sense, but it felt fierce. It was what kept pumping blood into Chuuya’s veins. It kept the ferocious fire burning within him. Maybe that’s why Dazai liked it so much.
Dazai liked listening to Chuuya’s heartbeat, his gaze drifting to Chuuya’s freckles as he slowly counted them in his mind. Chuuya’s eyes slowly closed, drowsiness having finally caught up with him, it seemed.
Good. His plan had worked.
Dazai, himself, of course hadn’t planned on sleeping. He just continued to listen to Chuuya’s heartbeat, listen to Chuuya’s life, he continued to count his freckles, to slowly trace his scars with just his eyes, to feel Chuuya’s breath gently warm his clothes…
Before Dazai knew it, the sun slowly crept in through the window, and he blinked a couple times. Time surely hadn’t passed by that fast. Had he fallen asleep? That was strange, he didn’t remember it, though it had been dark enough for him to maybe drift into a slumber.
With morning on its way and the sun on the rise, Dazai slowly let go of Chuuya, untangling himself while being careful to not wake him. He reached over to grab his coat, to grab his coat and leave—because while seeing Chuuya get increasingly embarrassed over being caught cuddling with Dazai would be cute, he had business to do.
“ Dazai. ”
Dazai paused.
It was a quiet whisper, barely audible to anyone else. If Dazai had moved faster, he wouldn’t have heard it. He slowly looked over at Chuuya, and the redhead’s barely opened eyes looked like they were staring at him. The tone of the whisper made it sound like a plea, and it was the first word Chuuya had spoken.
Dazai decides it doesn’t matter if he has business to do.
He lays back down, wrapping his arms around Chuuya once again and pulling him close to his chest, hoping Chuuya treasures his heartbeat as much as he treasures his.
He’ll indulge his dog. Just this once.