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The moment Chuuya opens the front door to his penthouse and sees all of his shoes lined up neatly by the rug, he knows something is wrong. Most of the time, Dazai is the messiest person he knows - which means shoes get discarded in all places - but tidying is his one of his grounding mechanisms.
A quick scan of the hall - lighted, even at this time, which is definitely not a good sign on its own - reveals that it's not only the shoes that are tidied properly. The cabinet next to them is dusted, the pictures on the walls hanging securely for once, and the few ornaments and framed photos fit for the most public place in the house are positioned at precise angles.
Chuuya shakes his head. This is not good. While he knows Dazai is prone to these depressive episodes, it's seldom that he comes home to a hall in perfect order. He's both relieved and overwhelmingly anxious, because this means both that Dazai has opted to use his newly-proposed method for dispelling his mood, and that he was in enough of a mood to need it this much.
Chuuya wastes no time in rushing to the bedroom, where he knows Dazai always retreats at his worst. He opens the door as quietly as he can, not wanting to disturb his partner in case he somehow managed to fall asleep, and stands there in the doorway for a moment.
The first thing he does is listen for breathing. It's there - of course it's there, it couldn't be anywhere else, and yet he finds himself grateful for that. It's even, which might be a good sign, and slow, but not slow enough to be the breathing that comes from sleep.
Chuuya dares not flick on the light, afraid of triggering Dazai in case he's in a jumpy state, instead opting to shuffle closer to the bed. He does it slowly, dragging his feet a little so the man can hear him approaching, even if he doesn't see him. When he's close enough that his toes bump against the edge of the bed, he tentatively reaches out one hand, signalling his anticipated movement, and lowers himself onto the mattress.
Slowly, his eyes adjust to the darkness.
Dazai is sitting in the middle of the bed, legs crossed, back straight, eyes open and staring straight ahead of him. That way lies the door, the same one Chuuya just walked in through, so the gravity manipulator has to accept that his partner is too far out of it to have noticed him enter.
Ah. He's having one of these episodes.
There are times when Dazai is frantic, hyperventilating, eyes darting around him like a cornered animal - times when he sees things that aren't there, and flinches away from Chuuya's attempts at reassurance. Those come on suddenly, leaving Dazai no time to attempt to regulate his breathing or his mind to calmness. Chuuya quickly learnt the best consolation for those moods is to sit a little distance off, and speak soothingly and evenly until Dazai felt safe enough to allow him to come close and hold him. Once the shaking stops, he's in the clear.
Then there are times like these - what Chuuya calls his disassociation moods. When Dazai shuts down completely, maybe sitting for hours in the same position with barely a thought in his mind until the fog clears. And that takes time.
Chuuya curses himself silently. If only I had been here. These moods come slowly - the evidence in the immaculate state of the other rooms, proof that Dazai had felt it coming and tried to push it down. Left alone, though, it never took long for his partner to slowly lose his motivation to avoid it, and simply sit down to wait through it passively. If I hadn't been called off on that mission - or if I'd refused-
Chuuya couldn't have refused, and he knows it. But that doesn't make it any easier.
Instead of wallowing in his own guilt and abandoning the man on the bed who clearly needs him, he shuffles closer to the middle of the mattress until he's sitting in front of Dazai.
"Hey, babe," he whispers as softly as he can. "How're you feeling?" He's not asking for the answer, just checking the level of response.
He's met only with silence, and Chuuya starts to worry that maybe Dazai had fallen too deep this time, maybe he wouldn't be able to pull him out, maybe-
"I..." Chuuya catches his breath as the singular bo of boku scratches its way out of Dazai's throat. He waits, praying for more.
It's with incontestable relief that Chuuya watches the pupils in Dazai's eyes slowly expand to absorb what little light there is, unfocus, focus, and finally land on his face.
"I..." Dazai tries again. He swallows, and finally chokes out the words, "I can't think inside."
To anyone else, the words have no meaning, but to Chuuya, they come through clear as day. He smiles, ever so slightly - sympathising, calming, and softer than he'd ever allow himself to be with Dazai in his normal state. "That's alright, hon. Think out loud then, I'll listen. Talk as much as you're comfortable with, I need to make sure you're here, 'kay?"
Dazai nods mutely. A moment later, he opens his mouth. "Don't know what to say..." The whispered words sound painful, but more as if they were painful to keep inside than painful to speak. "Don't want this to happen... 'm sorry... I don't like it... Help, Chuu..." He keeps going as Chuuya gently runs his hands along the bandaged arms, trying to ground him.
"I don't- I don't know what I'm... I don't know. I don't know, I don't know." Dazai drops his head and slowly descends into sobbing, repeating it over and over, wakaranai, wakaranai - I don't know.
Chuuya stops his ministrations on Dazai's arms, instead slowly reaching up and cupping the man's face as carefully as he can. "Shhh, shhh..." He tries to be as gentle as possible, to stop the flow of wakaranai without startling his partner. "It's okay... You don't have to know. Hm? You might not know at the moment, and that's okay. You don't need to know. You're okay."
He repeats it again. And again, as Dazai lifts his head. Again, and again, as his words seem to finally get through, and his partner's tears gradually become less frequent, until when he reaches up to dry the wetness from Dazai's cheek, it stays dry.
He lets himself smile again, and this time it's pure comfort. It says, I'm here, I'm staying, and I still love you, in answer to the uncertainty steadily rising in Dazai's expression.
It's only when Dazai cracks a weak smile of his own, that Chuuya allows himself free reign to express himself, no longer afraid of what the other's reaction might be. He pulls Dazai into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He melts further when he feels two lanky arms wrap around him in turn.
After a long, long moment - after he feels Dazai's grip loosen ever so slightly - Chuuya shuffles backwards out of the embrace. He places a soft kiss on his partner's forehead as he stands up, a reassurance that he's not leaving, not really.
He looks down at Dazai, and Dazai looks up at him. The brunet pouts, and Chuuya releases the last of his tension in a small smirk. He reaches over and ruffles Dazai's hair gently. "I'm gonna get you some water from the kitchen, eh, mackerel? Stay there. Maybe crack the window open, it's stuffy in here."
He walks over to the doorway that leads directly, conveniently enough, to the kitchen. Hearing movement from behind him, he pauses there, and turns back around to see Dazai up from the bed, actually opening the window as he asked.
The moonlight reflects on his face, and every undried tear line glistens under it. Every slight wobble of his lips. The brightness that's only just coming back, slowly, to his eyes.
It isn't perfect, this semblance of a routine - one hurts, the other comforts, both continue as if it's over as soon as it began, slip back into the teasing camaraderie they've grown used to. It isn't perfect, nor is it easy. But nothing about either of them has ever been perfect, or easy - certainly not anyting involving them both. And, maybe... They're okay with that.