Chapter Text
Chuuya is the bravest person dazai has ever met, strongest too and thats no understatment. But despite what people may believe, the boy is just as human as the rest of us, he too makes mistakes and is not a mind reader.
So as suprising as this situation is, its not entirely impossible.
Chuuya is currently struggling to keep consciousness, sitting at one of the ports local bars. He hates the way his hand shakes as he thumbs out the numbers needed for dazai' cell.
At this point chuuya is well aware hes been drugged, he never gets this drunk this quickly. And his head feels.. Heavy.
Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ri-
"Why hello chuuya! To what do i owe this unusual pleasure? Does chibi need something off the top shelf?"
His ex partner teases, but Chuuya can barely speak. Barely even keep his eyes open.
“Dammit, Dazai.” He sighs, dragging any energy he has left into his voice. “I need... help...”
Just that final word makes the lump in his throat tighten painfully. He doesn’t even know who did this. Some fucker probably spiked his drink, he never has been good at keeping his eyes on it.
“You don’t sound alright. Where are you?” Dazai’s voice cracks through the phone. He sounds concerned. Chuuya opens his mouth to respond right as a heavy hand lands on his shoulder.
He forces his head up, vision swimming. The man standing over him wears a lazy smile that sends a shiver down chuuyas spine.
"Chuuya? Are you sti-"
The stranger’s other hand plucks the phone from Chuuya’s grasp and ends the call with a click, he turns back to him. “Hey, you don’t look so well. Why don’t you come with me?”
Could the trap be any more obvious?
Chuuya reaches for the phone, but his hand to eye coordination is off by a mile. His fingers swipe at empty air and his body feels as though its pulled forward, a betrayal from gravity, falling right into the man’s eager arms.
“C’mon, kid, I’ll make it all better.”
His left arm is slung over the man’s shoulder, the other arm wrapping possessively around his waist. It’s hard not to notice he’s being dragged, his boots scraping against the floorboards as they move toward the door.
For some godforsaken reason, his mind keeps shutting down. The lights blur, the room spins, and everything feels so... distant. Too bright. Too loud.
He’s so... so tired.
Five minutes.
That’s all it takes for Dazai to trace Chuuya’s phone and get to the location. By the looks of it, there isnt much left to the phone, it’s just smashed-up and lying in a puddle at the mouth of a narrow alley.
He crouches, fingertips brushing the broken device before his eyes lift to the dark hall ahead. The alley twists sharply, narrow and wet, littered with trash.
His shoes splash in the water as he moves forward, heartbeat loud in his ears. The metallic scent hits him first.
Dazai’s grip tightens around his gun. He flattens himself against the brick wall, angles his body, and swings around the corner in one clean motion-
And freezes.
A small, crumpled body lies ahead, half-hidden in shadow. The orange hair catches the faint glow of a flickering streetlight, and Dazai’s chest caves in. There’s no mistaking him.
The gun disappears into his waistband as he drops to his knees beside the boy.
His fingers thread through Chuuya’s tangled hair gently before moving to cradle the back of his head, lifting it carefully from the cold concrete. He does it again, gentler this time, slipping an arm beneath Chuuya’s knees to pull him closer, to see the damage.
He’d almost rather see a gunshot wound.
Clothes torn, knuckles scraped raw, blood spreading slowly through the fabric of his white dress shirt. Dazai can’t even tell where it all started, just that there’s too much of it.
He taps Chuuya’s cheek, firm but careful. “C’mon, slug. Wake up...”
No response. His breathing’s rough and forced. Its not a good look.
Dazai curses under his breath, shrugging off his coat and wrapping it around Chuuya’s shoulders to keep him warm. Then, with a soft grunt, he slides his arms beneath him and lifts his ex partner into his arms, the boys head flopping against dazais chest.
“Hang on chibbi.. ” he mutters.
The walk back is fast. He picked this apartment for its convenience. close to the Port, a handful of bars, and the Agency just down the street.
(also the rent is very cheap.)
The key clicks in the lock. Dazai nudges the door open with his shoulder, trying not to jostle the unconscious redhead.
He lowers Chuuya carefully onto the couch, but the moment his back touches the cushions, a small sound escapes him. A weak, pained whine. His face scrunches up and his eyes shut tight. Dazai winces and apologises.
“Sorry... sorry,” he murmurs quickly, adjusting him with as much care as he could muster. The lights flick off and dazai lays a throw blanket over chuuyas shaky frame before taking his seat next to him.
He wipes an antiseptic wipe over what skin is showing but dazai will have to leave the rest for when chuuya is awake.