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Chuuya Nakahara was scared of many things. He was scared of betrayal, scared of being controlled, scared of the god that would whisper terrible things into his ear.
But Chuuya was strong. He would never admit to a single soul that he was scared. He would never tell anyone about the nights he cried over losing the Flags, or the times he was too afraid to pick up a knife knowing exactly what Arahabaki would tell him to do with it..
Strong boys weren’t scared. That’s what he had learned.
There was one thing that was a constant in Chuuya’s life.
One person that made his worries melt away, like the butter he was spreading over fresh toast.
Osamu Dazai.
Perhaps the least trustworthy person Chuuya had ever met.
Dazai was a strange case, always plotting something in his own best interests. As far as Chuuya was concerned, he was a sociopath with an exceptionally high IQ.
Dazai would’ve corrected him. 𝘗𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩. Dazai was a 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩.
Dazai didn’t fear anything– at least he never acted like he did– though Chuuya had come to learn that he had very strong dislikes.
He didn’t like dogs.
He didn’t like soft foods.
He didn’t like buzzing lights.
And he was going through that part of his eating cycle when he hated the feeling of literally anything in his mouth.
So Chuuya made his favorite foods, light and crunchy or at least solid.
The two had been living together for roughly one month, and Chuuya had quickly picked up on Dazai’s lack of self care. He’d known it was bad, but he didn’t know it was this bad. Gently, Chuuya pushed open the bedroom door to bring his boyfriend a simple breakfast in bed.
He found Dazai sitting up, his back propped up against the pillows. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but the bandages hid enough of his skin for him to not need one. Chuuya placed the plate onto his lap before sitting next to him.
Without even thinking, Dazai had wrapped his arm over Chuuya’s shoulder. He always liked to be touching.
Even when they were teenagers, Dazai liked to touch those he was close with– but touch him at the wrong time and he would recoil into his own skin and shut up.
Before, when Chuuya hadn’t known any better, he would do it on purpose to shut him up. God, he regretted that every day.
“Chibi, I’m not hungry..” Dazai immediately whined.
As much as Chuuya pretended to hate the touch for the sake of his own strength, it was the only thing able to silence that voice in the back of his head..
“I don’t care. I even made toast.” Chuuya let out a quiet sigh.
He didn’t want to be angry, but damn it, he was trying his best.
For a moment, Dazai just stared down the plate. Chuuya knew that look. He had seen it in way too many of the Mafia, and he was lucky he had.
To take some of the strain off Dazai, he picked up one of the pieces and ate it himself, leaving one piece remaining on the plate. Hesitantly, Dazai nibbled at it before actually eating.
“That was awful.”
The first comment Dazai had made after his silent meal, and it was a complaint. Chuuya wouldn’t expect anything else. He only sighed in response.
“I know, but you need to eat at least something.”
In an attempt to soothe his partner, Chuuya nearly ruffled his hair before realizing how oily it was. Clearly, he hadn't been bathing either.
Yet Chuuya never had to ask what Dazai did when alone. He already knew the answer.
“Mackerel, you should really shower.”
Dazai only leaned into Chuuya more, muttering something that sounded like an apology, though it was hard to tell. When he repeated himself, the apology was clear as day.
“Shh. There’s no need to apologize. Just do it whenever you can.”
It was time for the part of Chuuya that could be kind, the excitable dog who had its personality hidden over years of abuse.
The part of Chuuya that was weak, but only weak for Dazai.
He seemed to appreciate it, too.
Chuuya Nakahara was scared of losing his only consistency.
And Dazai’s only fear was losing him.