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Dazai Osamu had been complaining the entire evening on their date. Chuuya Nakahara had spent the last two hours listening to his boyfriend whine about everything from the restaurant’s service to the rain pattering against the windows of their car, But he didn't mind. Chuuya knew better than to take Dazai’s dramatics seriously; it was just another day with him. Still, something in Dazai’s tone tonight felt... off.
“Chuuyaaa,” Dazai groaned from the passenger seat of the car as they sped through the streets of Yokohama, their destination the cozy apartment they shared. “I feel horrible.”
Chuuya sighed, not even glancing over at him. “You always feel horrible. That’s not new.”
“No, no, this is different,” Dazai insisted, slouching lower in his seat, his hand pressed to his stomach.
Chuuya shot him a sidelong glance. “Are you serious, or are you just being a drama queen like always?”
Dazai’s eyes were squeezed shut, his face unusually pale. “I’m serious, Chuuya. Stop the car.”
The sudden shift in Dazai’s voice, the desperation in it, caught Chuuya off guard. He instinctively tightened his grip on the steering wheel, a sense of urgency creeping into his gut.
“What the hell? You’re not—” Chuuya began, but he didn’t need to finish the sentence. Dazai was already fumbling with his seatbelt, his movements uncoordinated and panicked.
Chuuya cursed under his breath and jerked the steering wheel to the right, pulling the car over to the side of the road. They barely made it before Dazai flung the door open, stumbling out of the car as he retched violently onto the pavement.
“Shit,” Chuuya muttered as he killed the engine, unbuckling his seatbelt in one smooth motion. He jumped out and hurried over to where Dazai was bent over, clutching his stomach.
For a moment, the only sound was the rain pouring down around them, mixing with Dazai’s heavy, labored breathing. Chuuya knelt down beside him, his usual annoyance softening into concern as he placed a tentative hand on Dazai’s back.
“Dazai, you good?”
“Do I look good?” Dazai rasped, voice hoarse from the strain. His usual carefree facade had completely crumbled, leaving him vulnerable in a way Chuuya rarely saw. The sight was unsettling.
Chuuya sighed, rubbing small circles into Dazai’s back as the latter wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Well, you look like death warmed over. Not that that’s different from your usual state.”
Dazai let out a weak chuckle, though it was more of a pained wheeze. “You’re... as charming as always, Chuuya.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I put up with your crap,” Chuuya muttered, but his voice was devoid of its usual bite. He gently coaxed Dazai away from the curb, keeping an arm around his waist to help steady him. “Come on, let’s get you back in the car. You’ll catch a cold.”
Dazai leaned into him more than usual, his tall frame practically collapsing against Chuuya’s side. It was strange—Dazai was always so annoyingly independent, always teasing Chuuya for being “short” and clinging to him dramatically. But now, he seemed... fragile.
Chuuya guided him into the passenger seat, closing the door with a soft click before hurrying back to the driver’s side. He glanced over at Dazai as he started the car again. His partner had his head tilted back against the seat, eyes half-lidded, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion.
“Dazai,” Chuuya said quietly, keeping his eyes on the road as he resumed driving. “You sure you’re okay?”
Dazai hummed softly, his voice so faint Chuuya almost didn’t hear it. “I’ll live... unfortunately.”
“Idiot,” Chuuya muttered under his breath, but his grip on the steering wheel loosened a fraction, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He had seen Dazai go through worse. This was nothing in comparison, but still...
For the rest of the ride home, Chuuya drove in silence, the soft rhythm of the rain the only sound between them. When they finally reached their apartment, Chuuya helped Dazai out of the car and up the stairs, though Dazai’s strength had mostly returned by then.
Sᴛᴏᴘ Tʜᴇ Cᴀʀ, Cʜɪʙɪ!
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵チビちゃん、車を止めるんだ！︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
ᴄʜɪʙɪ ᴄʜᴀɴ, ᴋᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ ᴏ ᴛᴏᴍᴇʀᴜ ɴ ᴅᴀ!
Once inside, Chuuya led Dazai to the couch and shoved him down with a sigh. “You’re not moving from here,” Chuuya ordered, heading to the kitchen to get him some water.
Dazai gave a weak smile, his usual mischief creeping back into his eyes. “Does this mean you’ll take care of me?”
Chuuya shot him a glare from the kitchen. “If you puke on the couch, I’m making you sleep outside.”
Dazai chuckled softly, his head sinking into the cushions. “You’re such a softie, Chuuya.”
Rolling his eyes, Chuuya returned with the glass of water and placed it on the coffee table in front of Dazai. “Shut up and drink this before you dehydrate, idiot.”
As Dazai took the glass, their hands brushed briefly, and for a second, Chuuya hesitated. Dazai looked up at him, his gaze softer than usual.
“Thanks,” Dazai said, and for once, there was no teasing in his voice. Just quiet gratitude.
Chuuya huffed and turned away, but his lips twitched into a faint smile as he headed toward their bedroom.
Maybe taking care of Dazai wasn’t so bad after all.