Chapter Text
~ ❤️ ~
The rain pounded relentlessly on the streets of Yokohama, a deafening downpour that soaked everything in its path. The harsh weather unexpected, yet not totally unusual. It was dark and cloudy outside, harsh winds blowing everywhere, and undoubtedly making the air colder than before.
Dazai Osamu was no stranger to suffering obviously, being in the Mafia taught him that. Even life itself. Surprisingly, tonight the elements were more than he could handle, which was already more than most could.
He was drenched to the bone, his usually aloof yet dark appearance reduced to a soaked, shivering mess. The water seeping into his shoes squelching with every step, and his hair clinging to his forehead in heavy, wet strands, as if painting anf framing his face. His coat had been left behind in the rush, and that only made him colder as the harsh winds pushed and pulled him around.
He had always preferred chaos, but this—this was different. How it was different..well he couldn't answer that. Maybe it was the fact that it was unplanned. Or the fact that he didn't see it coming. Or maybe even because he wasn't in control like usual. Either way, it was still chaos Dazai didn't want to be caught up in. Life didn't particularly like him though, did it?
His shipping container had flooded—completely. It was what cause him to be on the streets. The metal walls somehow on the verge of collapse, water dripping in and the doors open wide, making it much colder than before.
He had attempted to salvage what he could, but the rain had been too much, causing a sad defeat. He left with one thing on his mind, shelter. The Mafia was a place he could go, but knowing Mori, he would be sent out to 'Deal with it' somehow, leaving him with nowhere to go still.
With nowhere else that was safe to go to, he reluctantly trudged toward the one place he knew he could find safe shelter—Chuuya’s apartment. Not ideal definitely...but it was better than nothing. Though Dazai didn't think he could handle anymore berating from Chuuya.
By the time he reached Chuuya’s doorstep, the storm had somehow worsened. Lightning crackled in the sky, illuminating the dark, dreary, empty streets. Dazai, despite his usual bravado, was too tired and cold to be anything but silently desperate. Yes. How surprising right? The Dazai Osamu - Famous Demon Prodigy.. was desperate.
He raised his fist and knocked gently before he pressed his forehead against the doorframe, feeling the cold seeping deeper into his bones as he slouched, tired and shivering. A few moments later, honestly quicker than Dazai would have thought, the door swung open with a sharp creak.
"Dazai?" Chuuya’s voice was thick with irritation, but there was an underlying concern that Dazai could hear even through the anger. "What the hell are you doing here?" His voice clearly showed his confusion as to his sudden appearance...and the fact as to how he currently looked... which probably wasn't very good.
Dazai’s attempt at a playful grin faltered and clearly failed as he looked up at Chuuya, shivering. His lips barely moved, and his usually sharp eyes were clouded and dull with exhaustion. "I… might have gotten a little caught in the rain," Dazai said, his voice hoarse and weak. "Could I come in?" He sounded pathetic...he probably looked it too. Not much he could do about it now.. not like he truly cared though either.
Chuuya stared at him, his gaze flicking from Dazai’s drenched appearance to the puddles forming on the floor. For a quick moment, he almost looked concerned. His arms quickly crossed defensively, but despite his gruff demeanor, he stepped aside to let Dazai in. "You’re an idiot, you know that? Get inside before you catch something."
Dazai stumbled in, shaking water from his soaked hair as he walked through the threshold. The warmth inside was a sharp contrast to the cold biting at his skin. It felt like a balm to his sore muscles. Living in a shipping crate with no heather, bed or just warmth in general...well this felt like heaven. Why hadn't he come sooner? Oh right - The stupid Chuuya lived hear...and Dazai didn't want to seem as weak to him.
Chuuya scowled as he closed the door behind him. "You’ve really outdone yourself this time. I’ve got a million things I could be doing, and now I’ve gotta deal with your soaking wet ass. You’re lucky I’m not kicking you back out into the rain." Dazai managed a small smile despite the circumstances, but it quickly faded when Chuuya’s sharp eyes caught the look on his face.
"I’m sorry," Dazai said quietly. His usual sarcasm was gone, replaced by an odd sincerity. "I didn’t mean to inconvenience you." Chuuya softened, his expression shifting just slightly, catching onto the fact Dazai was acting different. No normal snarky remark..huh. "You really are a pain in the ass," he muttered, though the words lacked their usual venom and he realized the look on his face. "But come on, just—sit down, and don’t drip on anything."
Dazai nodded gratefully, collapsing onto the couch, his wet clothes sticking to the fabric. He looked at Chuuya, who was already stalking off to the bathroom with a towel in hand. "You’re going to sit there and make me clean up after you, huh?" Chuuya called over his shoulder, but there was no anger in his voice—just exasperation, and maybe a hint of concern hidden under the tough exterior.
Wanting to not show as weak, Dazai tried for another remark, "That’s what you’re here for, right?" He teased weakly, watching as Chuuya returned with a towel and some dry clothes.
"Shut up and just take this, stupid Makarel." Chuuya snapped, tossing the towel and clothes onto Dazai’s lap. "You’re lucky I’m not letting you sleep on the floor." Dazai gave a low chuckle, but it turned into a soft cough as he reached for the towel. He dabbed at his face, feeling the heat of Chuuya’s gaze on him.
His usual lightheartedness seemed to fade as the exhaustion caught up with him fully, making him absolutely exhausted. The warm and comfy couch not helping at all. Chuuya noticed. "You alright?" Chuuya asked, his voice uncharacteristically softer. "You don’t look too good."
Dazai hesitated for a moment, considering brushing it off. But he was too tired, too drained to put on his usual mask. "I’m fine," he murmured, though his voice betrayed him. He met Chuuya’s gaze and managed another smile, though it was weak and almost sad. "Just a bit cold, that’s all." Chuuya stared at him for a moment longer before turning on his heel.
"Well, if you’re gonna freeze to death on my couch, I might as well make it comfortable for you." He returned with a thick blanket and wrapped it around Dazai’s shoulders before plopping down next to him. Dazai sank into the warmth, the blanket cocooning him, and he looked at Chuuya, finally allowing himself to relax just a little.
"Thank you," Dazai said quietly, his voice filled with a softness that made Chuuya glance at him sharply. "You didn’t have to do this, you know." Chuuya snorted, trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck.
"Don’t get weird on me. You’re my partner, and I’m not about to let you die on my watch. Even though I definitely want that." He sat back, crossing his arms and looking at Dazai with his usual scowl. "Besides, you’d just come back as a ghost and haunt me, so…"
Dazai’s eyes glinted with amusement, though there was something deeper behind them—something unspoken. "You’d be the first person I’d haunt, Chuuya. And I’d make sure it was fun for both of us."
Chuuya rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed the remote, flicking on the TV, trying to act like everything was normal, even as his chest tightened in a way he refused to acknowledge. The rain outside continued to pour, but the storm inside Chuuya’s apartment—at least for now—was over.
As the night wore on, Dazai sat there, tucked under the blanket, staring into the dim light of the television. His shivers had faded, but his mind wandered to things he didn’t often let himself think about—things like how much he depended on Chuuya, how much he cherished the moments when they were together like this. It was absurd, really—he’d never admit it out loud—but in the quiet, with nothing but the storm outside and the soft flickering of the TV, he felt... safe. And that was a feeling he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to.
Chuuya, too, had fallen silent, his attention divided between the screen and the man sitting next to him. He couldn’t explain why it bothered him so much to see Dazai so vulnerable. Why it unsettled him when Dazai didn’t fight back or make one of his usual snide remarks. But for once, Chuuya didn’t push it away.
"Go to sleep," Chuuya said quietly after a long silence, his voice rough from the unspoken words hanging in the air. Dazai blinked, then glanced at him, still fighting the tiredness that was threatening to overwhelm him.
Appearance and reputation be damned, if Dazai was going to sleep, he wouldn't be doing it alone. "Only if you stay with me, Chuuya."
Chuuya stiffened, but there was no malice in his words as he shot back, "Fine. But only because you look pathetic right now." He said, hiding the fact that he wanted to stay with him as well.
Dazai’s lips curved into a lazy smile. "I’m counting on you, partner." For the first time in what felt like forever, Chuuya didn’t object. And in the quiet of the storm, with the two of them sharing the same warmth, it felt like the world had momentarily slowed down—just for them.
It was perfect yet stupid. Some annoying rain that may have just made Chuuya the happiest man alive, instead of him himself. Chuuya glances down at Dazai, who was fully asleep and leaning on his shoulder. Chuuya would go to hell and back for this man. And no one could even stop him. Although he would never ever say it aloud. I think Dazai got the message anyways.
~ ❤️ ~