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It was early when Dazai woke up, too early for his liking. His head hurt, his body felt like jelly, the last thing he wanted to do was get up and, damn, he really hoped he'd not come down with a cold or something.
When you have an ill mind the last thing you’ll ever need is an ill body.
Dazai buried his face in the pillow and tried to ignore what could be the very start of a runny nose.
Or, he would have, if he had a pillow. Instead beneath him, all Dazai could find was a tiny slug. Breathing slowly while sleeping, with a hand that gently embraced his waist and another that lingered in his hair.
He looked around just to find his journal resting on a paper towel above the coffee table.
Oh. So Chuuya must have tried to dry it for him.
That was… thoughtful.
That was the problem.
It meant he’d opened it.
It meant he’d checked the pages.
It meant he’d seen things he wasn’t supposed to.
It meant he knew too much.
Dazai was fucked.
He needed to leave.
***
Chuuya felt his blanket running away from him.
No, just five more minutes, it was his day off, Chuuya deserves to sleep.
Then a sneeze
“Dazai?” Was so low and sleepy that the question sounded more like a whisper.
No response other than the storm falling outside and the small creaks on the wooden floor while his partner left.
Chuuya opened his eyes to see a trembling, rosy-cheeked and stuffy-nosed Dazai without his coat, grabbing his notebook and holding another sneeze.
Above the TV stand the red-haired could see a digital clock showing 2:47 AM.
Chuuya rolled his eyes.
“Why are you up already, Mackerel? Go back to sleep you shitty insomniac.”
“What an obedient dog I have, wanting his owner nearby” Dazai turned to the older but his eyes never met Chuuya's. “Unfortunately for Chibi, some of us have very important things to do now, and ‘cause of that, I'm leaving.” A weird smile crossed his face.
If Chuuya didn't know Osamu so well, he'd think his partner was being sincere.
Normally he would be mad at the joke, but something about the brunette felt unusually wrong. Combined with the fact that last night he was freaking out in the bathroom and he seemed considerably ill right now.
Chuuya had a good excuse to ask his partner to stay a little longer.
“We’re in the middle of a fucking storm, what could be so important? Jumping off of a bridge?” Nakahara rolled his eyes. “Come back, Mackerel, you can do it later”
Well, it looks like, to Dazai, ‘come back’ means ‘leave as fast as you can’ and all he could hear was the sound of the closing door.
And another sneeze
Shit, Dazai will end up killing him.
Who else would make Chuuya get up at 3AM and leave his apartment just to bring Mackerel some sense and water.
He left the couch swearing all the way to the hall.
Dazai was waiting for the elevator to go up to the penthouse, which gave Chuuya enough time to prevent him from escaping. Coming straight to the brunette, he grabbed his wrist not letting the mackerel go too far.
The red-haired was used to Dazai’s never-talking-about-feelings thing.
But what he had seen yesterday — what he had read, even if he said he hadn’t — and the obvious cold were too much.
Chuuya had had enough of Dazai’s lack of communication.
It needed to change.
The Brunette flinched as soon as he felt the touch, but didn't try to pull it out, it seemed… It seemed like it hurt.
Shit
“C’mon waste of bandages, I always need to kick you out of my place, why do you decide that today it needs to be different, huh?”
The elevator arrived.
Dazai stood still.
Chuuya took a deep breath.
“We don’t need to talk about yesterday, okay? You just- I just- ah, at least go back to take a warm shower and change your clothes, it looks like you’ve caught a cold and you still kind of damp from last night” It wasn’t what Chuuya wanted to say, but it looked like it was the only words that could change Dazai’s mind.
“Let go of my arm then”
He did.
Dazai walked to Chuuya's door.
***
Osamu looked miserable, and Chuuya didn't know why.
Honestly he had never seen Mackerel this bad, even when they worked together at the port mafia.
Even after particularly difficult missions and the reports Osamu passed on to Mori.
Alone.
For hours.
Chuuya didn’t want to admit, but, he was afraid, he was fucking terrified.
Why does he look like this?
What happened?
He gave Dazai a glass of water so he’d stay hydrated, and prepared a bath for him. That was the plan.
Water, shower, talk.
It looked pretty simple, didn't it?
But Chuuya was never good at planning.
And Dazai was never good at being simple.
It all started when the brunette finished the glass of water.
“Want some more?”
He shook his head.
One hand, putting the empty glass upon the coffee table, the other, holding his book close to him as if they could fuse if Dazai believed enough.
He was thinking about something.
And Osamu never thinks about good things.
“Well you need a bath and warm clothes, then you can try to sleep some more.”
Chuuya headed towards the bathroom, hoping Dazai would follow him.
He didn’t.
“Come on, Mackerel, I'm not going to carry you to the bathtub, that's too much.”
“You lied to me”
Chuuya froze.
“What?”
“I said, ‘You lied to me’.”
“About what?”
“Chuuya said he didn’t read it.” Osamu started slowly. “But before I fell asleep, he quoted one of the pages for me.”
The red-haired asked himself if it was too late to let Dazai leave.
It wasn’t, Chuuya knew that.
But how the hell was he supposed to answer that? Would telling the truth drive Dazai into another panic attack? Should he lie? No, it was the fucking demon prodigy, he would notice. It wasn’t a question, actually, he just said that out loud as if he had just come into that conclusion.
What should he say?
A sneeze
Oh God, a way to avoid the subject.
They could have this talk later, just as Chuuya had planned it.
“That’s why you woke me up at 3am on my day off, waste of bandages?” He started by provoking, perhaps keeping their dynamic of affectionate insults might bring the Brunette some sense of normalcy.
Dazai sniffled.
“You need to warm up and change your clothes, Mackerel. We can talk about it after it, when you start to feel better, okay?”
“I’ll never be better, Slug.” The younger got up off the couch kind of accepting the promise of some peace and warmth.
“You will, Osamu.” Chuuya thought, following his partner to the bathroom.
Dazai took off his vest and the shirt.
Then the shoes, socks and pants.
He looked at Chuuya with eyes that told him that it was already too much.
“Want me to leave?”
“Whatever” he got into the bathtub.
“Is it still warm?”
Dazai nodded, letting his body just feel the water. He grabbed the soap, held it for a moment, trying to find a place of himself that wasn't covered in bandages, his arms pinched, the recent wounds burning what once used to be perfect skin.
Now it was dirty.
He began by lathering up his arms. He rubbed and cleaned even over the white bandages.
Gentle hands stopped him from continuing.
Now they were red.
“Osamu, don’t, just don’t” Chuuya says softly. “Need me to do that?”
“Of course not, hat rack.” Dazai mocked.
“Okay, then do it, without hurting yourself.” The red-haired thought a little “Do you prefer to write instead? Your notebook would get soaked here, but I can take care of that part for you and give it to you as soon as you’re dry and warm. What do you think?”
“Chuuya thinks I’m a kid”
“You often act like one.” He started. “But you didn't answer my question, does it sound good?”
Dazai tried to poke at his bandages, but Nakahara stopped him.
“Yeah” He said.
“So tilt your head back a little. I'll start with the shampoo.”
And he did.
***
Dazai looked for the same spot at the wall for the entire bath, he was there in person but not in mind. Osamu didn’t flinch when Chuuya touched his skin, didn’t complain when his partner’s hands stayed on his hair for some seconds more than needed, he got out of the bathtub and sat on the toilet so that Nakahara could dry him off and didn’t mind Chibi asked to take off the bandages just to replace them with new ones.
He was disassociating, and Chuuya didn’t like it a bit.
The red-haired wanted to call his attention, bring Mackerel to the moment, make him feel better, anything.
But all Chuuya did was replace Osamu's bandages, offer him warm and comfy clothes and, for the first time, wish that this idiot was feeling good enough to make fun of how small Nakahara’s clothes were.
The older asked himself if Mackerel was thinking about last night. If Dazai will ever see that bathroom the same way that he did before.
It was somewhat hypocritical to think that way when Chuuya can't erase from his mind the image of Dazai shrunk as if it were only three inches long during a panic attack in Nakahara's fancy bathroom.
He never wants to see that again.
He never wants Osamu to go through that again.
At the end of everything, Dazai was on the couch with gray sweatpanths, a cute dog stamped pj shirt, a blanket and a very worried Chuuya next to him.
“Here you go, Mackerel” The red-haired started “As i promised.” He gave the little leather-covered book so well-known to Dazai and a black pen for him to write.
Osamu looked tired from existing.
It wasn’t even 4am and he was already exhausted from the day.
the red-haired wanted to know what he was thinking about.
He grabbed the notebook, opened it in one of the last pages, put the pen at the start of the paper and…
“Chuuya”
The older looked at the white paper, then to Dazai’s eyes, then to his hands.
They were shaking.
“Why am I still here?”
Ah, thinking about that, then.
“I don’t want to be here anymore”
And, oh, it hurts.
Chuuya felt his heart crack and fall from his chest.
“I want an end.” Dazai said softly. “Maybe if I die all of that will stop.”
“Osamu…”
“Let me leave, Chuuya, I can’t do this right now”
Nakahara had known Dazai for a long time, years of partnership, fights, plans, blood, deaths, mutual help, and eventually a car explosion.
He was used to these thoughts coming from the younger man, that didn't mean it hurt any less to hear how self-destructive Osamu sounded. He wanted to take his partner's pain and take it for himself.
No, throw it onto everyone who caused it.
He loved Dazai. Chuuya had come to terms with that years ago when he understood the void Osamu left after fleeing the mafia.
He would not watch a man he cares about crumble into the darkness of their own thoughts.
There was the time of facing his feelings, he was a grown man, he has a fucking god inside him, Chuuya is capable of taking care of someone.
And even if he isn’t.
He’ll make himself enough for Dazai. Osamu deserves to be less miserable and Chuuya wants more than anything to be the reason for his smile.
“I know you’re used to running away from your problems and your fears. But I don’t want to be another thing for you to avoid.”
Dazai finally started to write.
“I’m the problem you should steer clear of, Chibi.”
“Well, then that’s good – ’cause I’m not leaving. And all I need from you is to stop running from me when things get too difficult.”
“Chibi…” His voice came out weak, partly hesitant, but Nakahara could hear a hint of hope in the background.
“What about running to me instead, huh, mackerel? We’re a team, aren’t we?”
Dazai crossed out what he had written.
Under the scribble, the first word.
“Slug? I’ve just said all of that for you to make fun of me?”
Then, he kept writing.
“Slug could be with me. Just for as long as I'm alive. After that, Chibiko could be free.”
This time, Chuuya didn’t read the rest of the page, it wasn’t just personal for Dazai, it was about their relationship and how Dazai felt about it.
With a thud and a sneeze, the book closed.
Osamu looked at the older one. Fingers tapping above the cover.
He was waiting for something.
“You can say, Waste of bandages, whatever it is” Chuuya leaned back against the couch. “I’ve just told you that.”
Dazai closes his eyes.
“I”
Osamu clenched his fists, gathering courage.
Chuuya waited for him encouragingly.
“It’s nice when Chibi hugs me.” The brunette looked away. “He could do it more often.”
Nakahara's heart leaped with joy, and his cheeks flushed.
He pretended not to care.
“Do you want a hug?”
“I need one” he whispered.
“Well” Chuuya opened his arms “Come here then, let’s go back to sleep, you need some rest too”
Dazai said nothing as he settled into the same position as the previous night. He and Chuuya were dry this time, sharing a sofa and a warm blanket while Osamu hugged his notebook, trapping it between his chest and Chuuya's.
And that was the closest thing to home Dazai had ever experienced in his life.
Chuuya was his home
Just as long as he was alive.