Chapter Text
Chuuya always said Dazai was an idiot, but even he never imagined just how far that idiocy could go.
It started small—little things that Chuuya didn’t think twice about. Dazai holding open doors, fetching his coffee without being asked, stepping between him and an incoming attack before Chuuya could react. Annoying, but nothing unusual. Dazai had always been unpredictable.
But then it got worse.
Chuuya would catch him flinching when he moved too fast, wincing when he thought no one was looking. His hands, always so effortlessly graceful, started sporting bruised knuckles, small cuts that he waved off like they were nothing. The final straw was when Chuuya found him passed out on the floor of their shared apartment, breathing shallow, a nasty gash across his ribs.
It had been a job—a routine fight, one they should have both walked away from unscathed. But Dazai had thrown himself in front of a knife meant for Chuuya. Again.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!” Chuuya’s voice cracked as he pressed gauze against the wound, his hands shaking. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Dazai’s eyes fluttered open, hazy but amused. “I thought you’d be happier, Chuuya. I’m finally being useful.”
Chuuya froze.
“Useful?” His grip tightened. “What the hell does that mean?”
Dazai let out a weak chuckle. “You always say I don’t do anything right. Figured I’d prove you wrong.”
Chuuya’s chest tightened, anger and something else twisting inside him. “So you almost die just to make a point?”
Dazai sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch. “I don’t mind if it’s for you.”
The words hit Chuuya harder than he wanted to admit.
He should have been furious. He was furious. But beneath it was something raw and terrifying, a realization that churned in his gut like sickness.
Dazai would throw himself into the fire without hesitation—again and again, until there was nothing left. And all because…
“Oi,” Chuuya said, voice low, barely more than a whisper. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, dumbass.”
Dazai blinked, surprised.
“You think I want you getting yourself killed?” Chuuya gritted his teeth, then exhaled sharply. “I don’t need you to get hurt for me. I just—” His hands clenched in the fabric of Dazai’s bloodstained shirt. “I just need you to be here, alright?”
For once, Dazai had no snarky remark, no teasing grin. He just stared at Chuuya, something shifting behind those dark eyes.
Then, finally, he smiled. A small, tired thing.
“Alright, Chuuya.”
Chuuya let out a breath, ignoring the way his hands still trembled. He wasn’t sure if Dazai was telling the truth, but for now, it was enough.
Because for once, Dazai wasn’t trying to disappear.