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Dazai is laying down on his futon, like he has been for the past few hours? days? weeks? he's not really sure anymore. The minutes melted away until he couldn't tell the difference between a second and an hour. Not that it really matters, he doesn't plan on getting up. He'd rather stay idle until his body becomes one with his futon.
The winter wind blows harshly outside and seeps into his shipping container. He can't be bothered to move and place his paper thin sheet over himself. He can hear his teeth clattering but can't actually feel it.
He wishes he wasn't so broken in mind, body, and soul that he could stop his pathetic pity party and get up. He wishes that he could salvage enough energy to get up and shower, to stop feeling so dirty. He wishes that he wasn't unlovable and that someone might actually miss him when he finally succeeds with his suicide.
But in the end all he can really be bothered to do is grab the knife he keeps convently close to his futon and cut neat red lines into his arms. His body's already mutilated beyond repair, what do a few more scars really matter.
Of course the universe despises him so his peace can only really last for so long. A string of curses sounds outside his door, if it could really be called that. Dazai hates how his heart squeezes at the sound, his newfound feelings for his partner are not exactly something he wears with pride. He's pretty sure that's what made him crawl into his futon in the first place.
"Bastard! What makes you think you can just ditch work for two weeks?"
Dazai's can't voice any coherent retort and his door is wrenched open without much decorum. Immediately Chuuya scrutinizes him, his gaze heavy on every part of Dazai it lands on. Dazai feels what he thinks is shame burn through him. Chuuya shouldn't even have to perceive him at his highest, much less his lowest.
Dazai casts his eyes over to Chuuya and just stares at him. Chuuya looks uncomfortable at the sight of Dazai looking so pathetic. It's only natural he supposes, he makes it a point that what lingers in his mind doesn't seep into his work.
"Come on you vagabond, quit this dead fish act and get up."
Dazai merely blinks once at Chuuya before turning away from him. He's not really sure what he expected. Chuuya is not his knight in shining armor and Dazai is not his responsibility. He'd like to go back to rotting away in his shipping container without a tiny dog barking at him.
"Ugh, are you really gonna be that way? Fine."
That's all Dazai gets before hands are placed under his armpits and Chuuya throws him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Dazai's not really up for words so he settles with shrieking. He kicks at Chuuya's stomach and punches at his back with all the strength he has. Chuuya just tightens his grip on his waist and keeps walking unperturbed. Looks like Dazai's in a for a long night.
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Chuuya unceremoniously sits Dazai on his toilet. Dazai sends him a sharp glare. Chuuya glares back in return.
"Guess I'm dealing with a mute tonight," he mutters bitterly. Dazai tries his hardest to make it look like that insult didn't sting, but he can feel that comment worming itself in his brain.
He tucks his knees into his chest and lays his head on his knees. Chuuya side-eyes him, wholly unused to a Dazai so...meek. He turns on the water in his tub and waits for it to fill up. He checks the water's warm before turning around.
"Alright, stand up."
Dazai stretches out his limbs and stands up. Chuuya reaches out him and he can feel his heart rate kick up. Chuuya is going to touch him, hopefully it won't be a punch but he'll take that too. He closes his eyes and his body shivers with anticipation. He feels the bandages wrapped around his eye fall away.
Dazai's eyes fly open and his jaw goes a little slack. Chuuya doesn't even dignify him with a look. He just starts unbuttoning Dazai's shirt methodically. It's so impersonal Dazai's reminded of the times he's been sent to Mori's care after a failed attempt.
His heart seizes as his shirt is slipped off his shoulders. All he can croak out is a small whimper. Chuuya gives him a look before moving on to his pants. It's not long before he's standing infront of Chuuya in just his bandages. Even then Chuuya moves his hand to the pin on his neck. Dazai grabs his wrist before he can even think about it.
"I'm not gonna hurt you Dazai." Dazai caught so off guard by the sentence, his grip loosens. His bandages quickly spill to the floor as Chuuya unravels the last of his defenses.
Dazai braces himself for what's to come, the ridiculing, the laughter, the poking and prodding. Instead he's lowered into a bathtub, the warm water around him seeping heat into his bones. A soft rag caresses his body and Dazai can feel his muscles unwinding. Relaxation floods through his body, a feeling so foreign he's not to sure how to react.
The feeling of dirt washing off him is so nice he can feel himself getting lighter. He opens his eyes, unsure when he even closed them, and stares at Chuuya. He finds a spark of something in his eyes as he cleans him. He quickly shuts his eyes back closed and tries to fight heat rising to his cheeks. He's not sure how to handle something so delicate like this.
Unfortunately, something is poured on his head and hands weave themselves into his hair. The feeling of such pure devotion as every strand of his hair is lathered in shampoo is not something Dazai is ready to handle. He can't help the blush that rises to his cheeks. The hands in his hair still briefly before returning to work. Water is poured on his head and soon he's standing back up. He steps out of the tub and Chuuya dries him off in silence. Their lack of words is so loud it makes Dazai want to scream, but he doesn't get a chance before Chuuya leaves him the bathroom.
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Dazai opens his mouth obediently as Chuuya holds a spoon out to him. He's perfectly capable of feeding himself but it feels so nice to just have to open his mouth and sallow. He's not sure what soup Chuuya is feeding him, but it has crab so he doesn't really care that much.
He'd changed into one of Chuuya's baggier shirts and a pair of his boxers. There was something pleased in Chuuya's gaze when he exited the bedroom in his new clothes. He'd forgone his bandages, not seeing a point in it after Chuuya cleaned all of him. It felt nice to not have to worry about other's perceptions of him for once.
The spoon clatters against the bowl and Dazai is snapped back into the present. He'd managed to finish off the soup somehow. It's nice to not have think about every detail, even if a little scary. Chuuya's kindness a wonderful thing to experience he concludes. He'll have to try and earn it more often.
Chuuya fidgets awkwardly with his fingers. It's the first time Dazai has seen him nervous this whole night and it makes him realize he's not the only who feels out of place.
"Do you wanna, um, watch a movie?"
Dazai nods and Chuuya flashes him a shaky smile. Chuuya walks over to the couch and Dazai curls up by his side. Chuuya tenses up before relaxing, he rests a hand on Dazai's hair and starts petting it softly. He turns on some action movie Dazai doesn't care for. He tunes it out and starts to doze off.
"About today-" Dazai cracks open his eyes. He can't stop the smile from splitting his face as he leans up and kisses Chuuya briefly on the lips.
"Thank you," they're the first words he's spoken in a while and his voice cracks. Chuuya stares at him bewildered and red covers his cheeks. Dazai can't be bothered to face the consequences of his actions and rests his head back on Chuuya's shoulder. He feels his eyes flutter shut as Chuuya mumbles, "You're welcome." He falls asleep with a smile on his face. Even if this bubble of their's is going to burst the minute they walk out of Chuuya's penthouse the next morning, Dazai's more then happy to bathe in it's warmth while he can.