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Dazai peeled back heavy eyelids to stare into the pitch black above him. He didn’t know what time it was, only that he had been lying on his raggedy futon, unable to sleep, for hours.
While insomnia was a regular struggle for him, that wasn’t what kept him awake now.
It was the third time this month that he’d been sick— the unusually cold weather not doing his sucky immune system any favors. The fact that his shipping container turned into a bonafide ice box in the winter probably wasn’t helping matters, either.
At first, it had only been an irritating cough and sore throat.
But as things tend to go for him, it had only gotten worse. His little cold had morphed into full-blown laryngitis, if the current state of his throat was anything to go by.
Chuuya had been taunting him for his raspy, cracking voice the last few days, but now his voice was completely gone.
A harsh shiver ran through Dazai, rattling his aching bones, and he bit back a groan.
Between the persistent cough, the grating sore throat, and the incessant chattering of his teeth, Dazai hadn’t been able to get any rest.
He had no idea what time it was, or how many hours it had been since he’d stumbled back to his container and curled up on his lumpy futon, but it had definitely been too long.
Dazai eventually gathered enough courage to snake an arm out from under the blanket and retrieve his phone. He winced as the bright screen pierced the darkness, squinting until his eyes adjusted enough to make out the time.
1:54am
Another groan tried to sneak past his swollen voice box, but it just ended up triggering a fit of hoarse coughs that he muffled into his blanket.
As he set his phone down to retreat back under the blanket, he happened to catch a glimpse of the date on the screen.
December 24.
Christmas Eve.
And wasn’t that just the icing on the cake?
It wasn’t that Dazai particularly cared about Christmas. But he was sick, and tired, and cold, and alone, and…
And maybe he was feeling more vulnerable than he usually would be in this situation, but it was only because he was so miserable.
He just didn’t want to be alone right now.
Dazai squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the blanket tighter around him, trying to block out the cold and the lonely thoughts.
Besides, it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go. He couldn’t even break into Chuuya’s apartment because the redhead had told him earlier to, quote: “shut up and fuck off.”
Eloquent as ever, that partner of his.
Dazai usually had no qualms about ignoring Chuuya’s demands request for personal space, but he didn’t feel like taking a beating tonight— physical or verbal.
Dazai burrowed deeper into his blanket, biting his quivering lip and tensing against the chills.
He was pretty sure he was running a fever, now, too.
No matter. He just had to make it through the night. He wasn’t so weak that he couldn’t handle that. His position as a sub-executive was proof of that.
He could survive till morning.
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After another half hour of constant coughing and feeling increasingly pitiful, Dazai was forced to admit defeat.
Nothing Chuuya could hit him with would be any worse than this.
Dazai was willing to accept whatever Chuuya wanted to dish out, as long as he’d let him stay.
Dazai forced himself to leave the meager warmth of his blankets and face the bitter cold.
His shivering only intensified when his socked feet landed on the frozen floor. He shoved his feet into his shoes, and pulled his heavy, black coat around him with trembling hands.
Dazai stood in front of the door for several seconds, steeling himself to face the elements.
He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and heaved the door open.
The biting wind smacked him in the face, knocking the air out of him and setting off another round of coughs.
Dazai winced at the aggravation to his throat, but nevertheless, pushed himself forward into the cold, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
One step forward.
One step at a time.
One step closer to the beacon of warmth that was Chuuya’s apartment.
⋆❅⋆⍋⋆❅⋆
Dazai stood in front of Chuuya’s door, teeth chattering, and eyes burning with fever. His body felt floaty, and like it weighed a thousand tons at the same time. He was shaking so badly that he had to clutch his coat to himself to keep it from slipping off of his shoulders.
He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there— only that he couldn’t bring himself to knock.
What was he thinking coming here? Chuuya didn’t even want him here on a normal day. There was no way Chuuya would invite a sick Dazai inside, in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve.
No chance.
In fact, Dazai was much more likely to receive a fist to the face than an outstretched hand.
It had been a mistake to come here. He’d known this was a bad idea, but he’d come anyway. Dazai gritted his teeth as self-hatred swirled in his gut. He’d done this to himself, and now look where he was.
Standing on Chuuya’s doorstep with his fist raised to the door, like some pathetic, lost puppy begging for attention.
Wait, when had he raised his fist?
Had he knocked?
He didn’t remember knocking, and his hands were too numb to feel the lingering smart of cold knuckles if he had.
Dazai felt a rush of panic. He hoped he hadn’t knocked. He’d been just about to leave; to give up and go back to his box.
His cold box.
Traversing across the frozen tundra again.
The howling of the wind still not loud enough to drown out his thoug-
The sounds of someone fumbling with the lock shook Dazai out of his spiral, and he fought down the building nerves as it sunk in that he must’ve knocked.
The door opened to reveal a groggy, disheveled Chuuya in rumpled sleep clothes. He rubbed his eye as he yawned. Clearly, he’d been asleep up until a moment ago.
“The hell d’you want, Shitty Dazai?” Chuuya squinted at Dazai through bleary eyes, voice rough with sleep. His hair was a mess— red curls sticking out every which way— as it always was when he first woke up.
Even in sleep, Chuuya was untamable.
“Oi.”
The sharp tone jolted Dazai, shifting his focus back to the glaring face in front of him.
His lips parted, but no sound left them. He stood there on Chuuya’s doorstep at three in the morning, blinking dumbly.
He didn’t know how he would respond even if he could speak.
“If you’re here to screw with me, do yourself a favor and leave now while you still have two functioning legs.”
Dazai stared at Chuuya. He wanted to avert his gaze— to conceal the vulnerability that was no doubt swimming in his visible eye— but he couldn’t tear it away from the spheres of blue that seemed to be drawing him in with their own gravitational pull.
Chuuya shifted under the scrutiny, but didn’t break eye contact. “Oi, what’s the matter with you? You’re being weirder than usual.”
But Dazai couldn’t answer. The heavy weight of exhaustion was hitting him again, exacerbated by his trek through the city. A shudder rippled down his thin frame, and he looked away, missing the way Chuuya’s eyebrows drew together.
“I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am.” Chuuya spoke cautiously, like he was wary of a trap. “How long have you been out here for?” He looked much more awake now.
Dazai shrugged, curling in on himself in an effort to quell the trembling.
Chuuya watched him for a moment, as if he was finally taking in the utter train-wreck outside of his door. After a couple of tense seconds, he rolled his eyes, opening his door wider and walking away.
“Tch. You’re letting out all the heat, bastard.”
Dazai’s eyes widened. The unexpected invitation had him frozen in place— like his feet were stuck in blocks of ice. But he forced himself to cross the threshold, and the heat immediately embraced him like a deluge.
In a distinct contrast to the icy chill of leaving his container, this was warm, comforting, and safe.
His tense muscles relaxed reflexively, and his shivering intensified as his feverish body tried to adjust to the sudden change in temperature.
“You’d better have a damn good reason for waking me up at 3am, asshole.” Chuuya grumbled.
Dazai stiffened, all of the tension quickly returning, and cursed himself for foolishly thinking that Chuuya would leave this can of worms unopened.
He shuttered whatever emotions might be swirling in his visible eye and kept his gaze trained on the bridge of Chuuya’s nose— close enough to the fiery blues that Chuuya hopefully wouldn’t notice his uncharacteristic avoidance of eye contact.
“So, you gonna tell me what you’re doing here, or am I gonna have to beat it out of you?” Chuuya planted himself in front of Dazai, arms crossed and glaring.
Dazai’s expression turned sour. He’d expected this reaction, but that didn’t mean he was looking forward to it playing out.
Even if the sight of the fuzzy slippers on Chuuya’s feet made him look much less intimidating, he knew what his partner was capable of.
Dazai wiggled his frozen toes, wishing that he had a pair of fuzzy slippers.
“What is this, the fucking silent treatment?” Chuuya’s limited patience was waning.
Dazai returned the glare, but his lungs chose that moment to inform him that he’d had enough of a reprieve. His chest squeezed, and Dazai hurried to lift his hand to his mouth.
He tried to suppress the coughs, but they burst out of him in a hoarse, squeaky staccato.
The frigid air must’ve irritated his airways because the coughs kept coming. Dazai could feel his face growing red from the exertion— no longer trying to stifle the fit, only trying to make it end.
Dazai startled when a firm hand began rhythmically pounding on his back. While it didn’t do much for his cough, it did cause a different type of squeeze in his chest.
Once the coughs petered out, Dazai straightened, trying to catch his breath, and winced. He raised a hand to rub at his inflamed throat.
Dazai tried not to let his disappointment show when Chuuya removed his hand and took a step back to peer at him.
“So that’s it, huh?” Chuuya was still staring at Dazai, but all of his earlier irritation had been replaced by a sort of resigned, knowing look. The redhead had seen Dazai sick often enough to immediately know what he was dealing with. “You look like shit.”
Dazai opened his mouth to give a knee-jerk retort, but all that came out was a humiliating, creaky puff of breath.
His cheeks flushed with more than just fever as Chuuya snickered.
“I know I told you to shut up, but this is taking it a bit literally, don’t you think?” Chuuya gave one last chuckle, but the corner of his mouth still twitched.
Dazai’s lips parted again, but Chuuya cut him off.
“Stop trying to talk, dumbass. You’re only gonna make it worse.”
Dazai pressed his lips together unhappily, then swallowed with a grimace.
Chuuya looked like he was fighting back a sympathetic grimace of his own before he seemed to remember something. He waved Dazai towards the bedroom.
“I’ve got some extra pajamas that should fit you. Go get changed, and then sit your ass down. I’ve got something to do.” Chuuya walked into the kitchen and started searching through his cupboards.
Dazai gave him a quizzical look, but he was feeling too awful to try to figure it out. He didn’t even have the energy to mess with any of Chuuya’s things. He did as he was instructed, dropping unceremoniously onto the couch when he was changed.
The colorful lights adorning the Christmas tree in Chuuya’s living room caught Dazai’s eye. They cast a soft, warm glow around the dark room, and Dazai found himself relaxing despite his physical discomfort.
Chuuya walked in on him staring at the lights, transfixed, and chuckled.
Dazai thought it sounded almost fond.
He watched Chuuya approach the couch, a steaming mug in each hand. He sat down next to Dazai and passed him a mug. Dazai gave it a distrustful look and Chuuya rolled his eyes.
“It’s hot cocoa, idiot.” He took a sip from his own mug to prove it. “The warmth should help your throat. Plus, you’re shaking the couch with your shivering,” Chuuya complained, though there was nothing but mild concern in his eyes.
Dazai finally accepted the mug, and when the warmth seeped into his perpetually-cold hands, he released a contented sigh.
Chuuya huffed a laugh through his nose and started pulling Dazai’s arms out of his heavy coat. Dazai let himself be maneuvered, doing absolutely nothing to help besides switching his mug between hands as Chuuya pulled off the sleeves.
Dazai shivered as the coat was pulled away— the indoor temperature not enough to chase away the fever chills.
Chuuya, as though he had expected this, threw a fluffy blanket around Dazai’s shoulders, pulling it snuggly in that mother-hen way of his that he vehemently denied existed.
Now that Dazai was warmer, and in a familiar place, his body was taking its cue to shut down. He felt sluggish— like he was moving through molasses— and his eyelids drooped.
“Hey, don’t go to sleep yet, you’ll miss the surprise.” Chuuya’s voice jolted Dazai from his daze.
“S’prise?” Dazai whispered soundlessly, blinking to keep his eyes open.
Chuuya reached into his pocket, and pulled out two candy canes.
“Peppermint hot cocoa.” Chuuya grinned. His eyes looked like they were sparkling from the reflection of the Christmas lights.
Or maybe that was just the fever talking.
Chuuya unwrapped the candy canes, stirring them into the hot cocoa as he explained, “The menthol should help your cough. Then maybe we can both get some damn sleep tonight.” But he didn’t sound mad. Actually, he looked like a kid on Christmas Eve— bright-eyed with anticipation.
Because that’s what Chuuya was.
That’s what they both were.
Just kids on Christmas Eve— creating their own makeshift-holiday magic, because no one was going to do it for them.
But that was alright. They had each other.
Begrudgingly, most of the time.
But here, in the middle of the night, they were softer with each other— an unspoken ceasefire to their usual back and forth.
On a day that most people spent surrounded by family and loved ones, Dazai and Chuuya were all each other had.
And for tonight, that was enough.
Tonight, maybe Dazai could be just a kid on Christmas Eve, too.
Dazai took his mug back from Chuuya and sipped at it, uncovered eye widening at the rich taste, then closing as the warm mixture soothed his throat.
They sat in silence for a while, sipping on their drinks by the light of the Christmas tree, and soaking in the rare moment of peace in their lives.
Chuuya eventually shifted closer, wrapping one end of the blanket around himself and citing Dazai as a “blanket hog.”
With the warm drink inside of him, and his symptoms eased by Chuuya’s remedy, Dazai couldn’t fight the sleepiness anymore.
His eye fluttered shut as his head bobbed, and he didn’t even notice his slack grip on his mug until Chuuya caught it.
“Stop fighting it, dumbass,” Chuuya murmured, voice low and soothing. “Go to sleep, already.”
Dazai was too far gone to do anything but comply. He let his head fall against something warm, and firm, and beating in a familiar tempo.
“Oi! I didn’t say you could sleep on me, Shitty Dazai,” Chuuya whisper-yelled, but Dazai just nuzzled closer, letting the sound of the familiar heartbeat finally drown out his thoughts.
Chuuya harrumphed, but it was resigned. Dazai felt Chuuya gradually relax against him, until a steady hand reached up to card through his hair.
Dazai went completely boneless, a soft sigh slipping past his lips, as sleep reached out to gently embrace him.
The last thing Dazai was aware of before sleep claimed him was the hand in his hair, and an uncharacteristically soft voice whispering a secret that was undoubtedly not meant to be heard.
“I didn’t want to be alone tonight, either.”
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Dazai stirred, blinking one eye open to peek at his surroundings. He wasn’t sure what had woken him, but he could see the very first streaks of sunrise painting the otherwise dark room and knew it was much too early to be awake.
He froze as he heard the quiet snores coming from above him, and it was then that he realized that Chuuya’s head was resting on top of his own.
Chuuya must’ve nodded off sometime after Dazai had, lulled to sleep by the even breathing of the feverish body next to him.
Dazai didn’t bother fighting the smile that bloomed from the warmth spreading through his chest.
He nuzzled his cheek against Chuuya’s chest, making himself comfortable again. Above him, Chuuya shifted, but just as quickly settled back against the mop of soft, mocha waves with a yawn.
Dazai’s smile stretched into an answering yawn, and he let his eye flutter shut as the pull of sleep returned. A few more hours of rest next to his space-heater of a partner wouldn’t kill him.
And just for this moment, Dazai was fine with that.
