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Chuuya groans and blinks, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. His thoughts are fuzzy for a moment, memories hovering just out of reach.
Then everything hits him. The mission. The explosion. The building collapsing.
A single thought cuts through the haze in his mind. Dazai. Chuuya sits up abruptly, barely reacting when something tears at his side. He came here with Dazai. They were supposed to infiltrate the building together, but they got separated during the explosion.
Chuuya scrambles to his feet, swaying slightly, the pain only a secondary feeling. He has to find Dazai. He can’t be dead. Not yet, not before he could tell him.
Everything is a blur. He stumbles through the building, his warm blood soaking his clothes. Chuuya doesn’t even bother to assess the damage to his body, not when getting to Dazai matters more.
The smoke prevents him from seeing more than a few feet ahead, resulting in multiple stabs and falls. His limbs are heavy with exhaustion, his knees and palms hitting the glass-ridden ground more times than he can count. And yet he doesn’t care, forcing himself to move forward.
His heart races in his chest. There’s only one thought in his mind: Where is Dazai?
He calls for him. Screams until his voice is hoarse, the sound barely audible through the ringing in his ears. His vision swims, darkness creeping into the edges.
The air smells like burnt metal and dust, the remnants of the explosion lingering. He feels his lungs protesting, every shallow inhale of dust causing the numb sensation in his chest to flare. The world seems to be closing in on him, but he can’t stop. Not until he found Dazai. Not until he found Dazai. There was no if. He was going to find Dazai. Because he can’t bring himself to consider the other possibility.
“Dazai!” Chuuya shouts again, desperation clawing at his throat. His hands fumble around collapsed beams, eyes searching frantically. From a corner in the edge of his darkened mind, he vaguely registers something piercing his flesh. The world tilts sideways dangerously.
He catches himself before he collapses, panting heavily. Everything seems shroud in a layer of darkness, his sensations muted. Blinking rapidly, Chuuya tries to clear the haze clouding his vision.
Where is he? Where the hell is he?!
That asshole better not die now.
Then, as if by a miracle, Chuuya sees him.
Dazai.
He’s standing, swaying and looking slightly worse for wear but otherwise looking fine. No major wounds or broken bones. Dazai’s fine.
Chuuya exhales with relief, the knot of fear in his chest unraveling. It seems to ease some of the tightness in his chest, allowing him to breathe a little easier.
“Dazai!” Chuuya’s voice cracks slightly as he rushes towards Dazai, his legs nearly giving way beneath him. He needs to feel him, touch him to make sure he’s fine, that he’s real and alive.
Dazai turns, frantic eyes meeting Chuuya’s for a moment before Chuuya stumbles into him, fisting a hand in the front of his shirt and collapsing against his tall frame. He gasps and nearly sobs with overwhelming relief, “Thank god you’re okay… I thought I lost you.”
Dazai doesn’t reply immediately. His trembling hand hovers over Chuuya’s back, close but not touching, like Chuuya’s a piece of glass and would break if he touched him. “Chuuya…”
Chuuya lifts his head from where it is buried in Dazai’s chest. A pang of fear stabs his heart when he sees the look in Dazai’s eyes. He looks terrified. Haunted, even. “What’s wrong? Are there enemies? Are you injured? Dazai talk to me.”
Dazai settles for a hand on the back of Chuuya’s neck, gripping his hair so tightly it bordered on pain. “Chuuya, listen to me. You’re okay. You’re going to be fine. You’re probably still running on adrenaline so you don’t feel anything, but it’s going to be okay.” His voice breaks slightly, the moment of vulnerability frightening Chuuya more than anything else.
“What are you talking about, you idiot? I’m fine. I’m…” Chuuya blinks, his body suddenly feeling heavier, “fine. Might take awhile to recover from this, but it’s nothing I can’t get over.”
Dazai’s face twists in anguish, but the expression is gone as quickly as it appeared, so fast that Chuuya thinks he imagined it. His face smooths over, replaced by a pained smile. “Yes yes, you’re fine, Chuuya. You’re fine.” Dazai repeats the phrase like a mantra, hands shifting to grip Chuuya’s shoulders.
“The hell you mumbling about? I already said-” Chuuya cuts off as he feels it for the first time, his initial blind panic dissipating. The pain hits him like a freight train and he feels everything at once. The tightness in his chest. The pounding in his head. The blood trickling down his side, warm and sticky and soaking his clothes. It’s too much, the pain, the sensations, everything.
His breath hitches, suddenly too shallow, too difficult. His knees buckle, Dazai’s strong arms wrapping around his chest and catching him before he falls. That’s when he finally realised: Dazai wasn’t looking at him like he was fine. The words, they were for comfort, there was never any truth to it.
Dazai sinks to the ground, ignoring the glass piercing his knees and gently lowering Chuuya. He hugs Chuuya tightly, stroking his back shakily and pointedly avoiding the wound in Chuuya’s side, where the skin is torn open, ragged, deep. “You’re fine. You’ll be fine. You’re not going to die today.” He mumbles repeatedly, trembling with barely concealed emotion.
Chuuya relaxes, melting into Dazai’s embrace and resting his forehead on his chest. The dizziness, the nausea, the way his eyes can’t seem to focus on anything, it’s too much. He knows. He’s seen enough people die to know, know that he’s dying. He always knew he would die someday, being in this line of work, but he didn’t know that day would come so soon. A tear escapes. “Dazai… it hurts… it hurts so much.”
Dazai tightens his hold on Chuuya, murmuring into his hair, “I know, Chuuya. You’re going to be fine. It’s all going to stop soon.” The wetness in his hair lets Chuuya know that Dazai’s crying, and the knowledge makes Chuuya want to just stop dying, because this Dazai scares him. Terrifies him. Dazai is supposed to be the calm one, the one suicidal freak who wanted death. All that’s left is fear, desperation dripping from his every word.
The pain surges through him, a burning, blinding force hitting him like a wave. Again and again. Chuuya’s chest tightens, his breath harder to catch. Between gasps, he rasps out, “Dazai… you’re… you’re going to be… fine… too…”
Chuuya lifts his head, meeting Dazai’s gaze and drinking in his hopelessly empty brown eyes. He feels Dazai’s breath hitch, fresh tears streaming down his beautiful face. He takes his time to memorise the sharp angles of his face, every stroke of his perfectly sculpted face. Even as the edge of his vision dims, he strains to hold on to consciousness, instead focusing on the face before him.
Vaguely, Chuuya registers Dazai mumbling something. The pain is fading now, his senses muted like he’s underwater. His consciousness wavers, his thoughts hazy except for one: I never got to tell him.
And just before Chuuya slips into oblivion, he realises Dazai already beat him to it. The sounds of choked sobs float to him, the sound of his name whispered reverently on the lips of the man he loved.
Then, everything was quiet.
I love you, Dazai had said.