Chapter Text
Hold Me Through the Rain
Chuuya, the short redhead felt the impact instantly before he could even see it — the mission was supposed to be easy.
But that was the first lie.
The heavy rain sliced through the deafening silence hammering against Chuuya and Dazai. At first the smaller man let out a high pitched pained yelp at the wound forming against the left of his hip. It opened up a small shallow cut stinging whilst being exposed to the rain, Chuuya's hand instinctively clutched his hip.
In all of a sudden the unbearable stinging pain had disappeared from his hip, Chuuya's lips immediately formed into his overconfident smirk.
"Hah! Is that all you've got?" Chuuya barked at the enemy, trying to sound braver than he actually was. But beneath his act tingling traveled up his bones, it wasn't necessarily painful but it soon turned into a sharp uncomfortable heat creeping along his limbs making each movement more difficult and heavier than it should.
It felt like an indescribable strong weight was weighing him down.
Dazai's eyes flicked over toward Chuuya, whose movements were becoming more and more sloppy as seconds passed. A faint frown breaking his usual grin at his partner struggling to keep up with their mutual enemy.
This was not like Chuuya at all, the strongest member of the mafia struggling to keep up with somebody he could easily beat.
"Chuuya" He glanced at the mafioso's shaking hand and trembling body before continuing his sentence "You’re quieter than usual, don't pretend its nothing."
Chuuya's laugh faltered, just for a moment trying to recover from his slight surprise of that shitty mackerel actually caring about him. "I said it doesn't hurt… stop nagging you mackerel!"
Yet even as he spoke the pulse aching and bulging out of the redheads chest told him otherwise. The unknown ability had barely touched him, but the residue was already starting to bite.
Chuuya planted his feet firmly in the ground, the soles of his boots printing marks in the gravel his fists were tightly clenched by his side. Trying to shake the growing burden in his arms and the fact each step felt like he was being held back by chains, and the harsh droplets of water didn't help — it soaked through his clothes, the familiar feeling of the cold and relentless rain.
"Stop dragging your feet, slug." Dazai muttered slowly sidestepping onto a slick patch of concrete. His voice was calm, but there was an unusual edge Chuuya didn't hear at all. Before the hat rack could mention it the waste of bandages spoke again, directly to his former partner "If you collapse, now its on you."
"I'm fine!" Chuuya snapped, though the tremor in his legs betrayed him. He swung at the enemy who was beginning to retreat as both men were left weak and vulnerable. Chuuya felt his pulse hit again — a sharp burning wave ran through his chest and shoulder, leaving him panting and gasping.
Dazai's eyes narrowed right onto Chuuya, scanning the alley as the enemy retreated away into the distance. "You're lying again. I can see it don't play coy Chibi."
Chuuya swallowed hard, trying his absolute best to force a grin but failing miserably. "It's nothing.. just a little scratch!" He forced a laugh, but it sounded painfully hollow even to himself. The ability's subtle power was insidious — it didn't hurt much at first, but the draining warmth coursing through his blood promised it wasn't done yet.
Dazai stepped closer, his hand brushing against Chuuya's lower back an uncharacteristically steadying touch and intimate ground the redhead into reality. "If your going to die acting tough, at least let me hold you up." The bandaged idiot whispered onto the others neck.
Chuuya's ears burned, not from shame but from the undeniable truth, he couldn't fight any longer alone he needed help.
The alley was empty, the enemy now completely gone from the domestic scene of the old duo, Double Black. Leaving only the hisses of rain on the concrete and the uneven breaths of Chuuya filling the air. He attempted to take a step forward to Dazai, but his legs refused, trembling violently beneath him and threatening to fall to the ground. The mafioso's hand went to his hip again a sharp pang shot through his body as his hand made contact with the bleeding wound.
"Chuuya?" Dazai's voice was low, calm, but threaded with heavy concern for Chuuya not making a attempt to hide it. "Your not seriously trying to walk this off, are you?"
"I…I'm fine," Chuuya managed to grit out, teeth clenching harshly inside his mouth trying not to scream his insides out. But his voice immediately betrayed him, either way Dazai would have noticed considering the deep bond the duo shared over 7 long years.
Dazai didn't argue, but instead he crouched slightly beside Chuuya and grabbed his arms. "Fine if you insist on being so stubborn, I'll carry you."
"What?!" Chuuya's eyes went wide trying to process what that suicidal maniac had just said while trying to push Dazai's long slender hand off him. "I'm not- I can—I—"
Dazai just smirked, ignoring the flailing "You can't walk, darling. So unless you want to collapse in the middle of the street, I suggest you shut up and stay still for me." He playfully teased Chuuya with the nickname, as expected the ginger's cheeks turning bright red.
Before Chuuya could argue further, Dazai lifted him effortlessly in a bridal style hold, one arm under his back and the other under his knees. Chuuya's ears flushed red, both from the position and from pride of being thoroughly wounded.
"Dazai… put me down! I'm not some—"
"You are now," Dazai interrupted smoothly, adjusting his grip so Chuuya rested more comfortably against him and also so his hip wouldn't hurt as much. "and unless you want to spend the night in a gutter with your legs useless, I suggest you stay nice and quiet!" Dazai responds enthusiastically with a grin.
Chuuya shot his infamous glare at Dazai, muttering insults about the bandage-wasting machine under his breath. He didn’t struggle, not that he could. Every limb felt heavy, every breath a battle.
He was too exhausted, too weak, and… somewhere deep inside, a sharp spike of anger burned at himself. Anger for needing help, anger for trusting Dazai, anger that he couldn’t just keep fighting on his own. And underneath all that, something he wasn’t ready to admit yet — a flicker of relief, a dangerous, guilty warmth at how safe it felt in Dazai’s hold.
The rain plastered their clothes to their skin, and a gust of wind cut through the alley, making every wet thread cling tighter. Yet inside Dazai’s hold, Chuuya felt something unfamiliar — a steady warmth, a small bubble of safety and comfort that made his chest ache with relief.
Dazai’s grip was firm, unyielding in a way that left no room for argument. Chuuya hated that it worked. Hated how easily his body gave in the moment he stopped fighting it. The tension drained from his limbs despite himself, exhaustion sinking in deep, heavy and unavoidable.
He turned his face away, jaw clenched tight, rain dripping from the brim of his hat and down his cheek. Every breath felt shallow, like his lungs could not quite expand properly. His heart pounded hard enough to make his chest ache.
“This is humiliating,” Chuuya muttered weakly.
Dazai snorted, adjusting his hold slightly as he stepped carefully through the slick alley. “You’ve been humiliated far worse than this,” he replied. “You just pretend you haven’t.”
Chuuya did not answer. He didn’t have the energy to snap back, and that realization alone made his stomach twist into ind. His head rested briefly against Dazai’s shoulder before he caught himself and stiffened, pulling away by instinct.
Dazai noticed.
He always noticed.
“You’re allowed to lean,” he said quietly, eyes fixed ahead. “I won’t bite.”
“That’s debatable,” Chuuya muttered, but the bite was gone from it. His voice cracked on the last word, and he hated himself for that too.
The street beyond the alley was empty, washed clean by the rain. Streetlights reflected in shallow puddles, their glow warping with every ripple as rain continued to fall. Dazai stepped carefully, boots splashing softly as he crossed the uneven pavement.
With every step, Chuuya felt the strange heat inside him shift and pulse. It moved slowly, deliberately, like something alive. It was not pain in the usual sense, not sharp or overwhelming. It was worse than that. It was invasive. It made his skin feel too tight and his muscles feel like they no longer belonged to him.
His fingers twitched involuntarily.
Chuuya swallowed hard.
He had felt pain before. He had been broken, crushed, burned, torn apart. He knew pain. This was different. This felt patient. Like it was waiting for him to give in.
“You’re shaking,” Dazai said suddenly.
“I’m cold,” Chuuya shot back.
Dazai hummed, unconvinced. After a moment, he shrugged off his coat with one arm and draped it over Chuuya’s shoulders as best he could without dropping him.
Chuuya stiffened. “You don’t have to—”
“Too late,” Dazai replied.
The coat was warm, carrying the faint scent of cigarettes and antiseptic. It made something in Chuuya’s chest tighten painfully. He hated how grounding it felt. Hated how badly he wanted to relax into it.
Silence stretched between them as they moved through the quiet streets. The rain softened to a steady drizzle, the sound of it blending into the distant hum of the city. Chuuya’s breathing evened out despite himself, though every now and then a sharp hitch betrayed him when the heat flared too strongly.
Dazai slowed slightly each time.
“You know,” Dazai said eventually, tone deceptively light, “you’re really bad at lying when it actually matters.”
Chuuya scoffed. “Says the king of deception.”
“Exactly,” Dazai replied. “I know all the tricks. And you’re using the sloppy ones.”
Chuuya squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. The world tilted unpleasantly, and he fought down a wave of nausea. “Shut up,” he murmured, the words barely audible.
Dazai did not tease him for it.
They reached the safe house after what felt like both minutes and hours. Dazai pushed the door open with his foot, stepping inside and kicking it shut behind them. The warmth inside hit Chuuya immediately, sharp enough to make him hiss quietly through his teeth.
The sudden change made the strange heat in his veins surge violently.
Chuuya gasped, fingers clutching weakly at Dazai’s shirt.
Dazai froze. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”
Chuuya tried. His vision swam, lights blurring at the edges. “It’s getting worse,” he admitted hoarsely, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. “I think… I think it’s spreading.”
Dazai’s jaw tightened.
He carried Chuuya deeper inside, lowering him carefully onto the couch. Chuuya’s legs gave out the moment Dazai released him, his body slumping forward before Dazai caught him again and eased him back.
“Easy,” Dazai murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Chuuya laughed weakly. “You always say that.”
“And yet you keep needing it,” Dazai replied, quieter now.
Dazai knelt in front of him, hands hovering for a brief second before settling on Chuuya’s knees. They were shaking badly. Too badly.
“When did it start feeling wrong?” Dazai asked.
Chuuya hesitated. Then he exhaled slowly. “Right after it stopped hurting,” he said. “That’s when I knew I was screwed.”
Dazai’s eyes flickered with something dark and unreadable.
“Next time,” he said softly, “you tell me immediately.”
Chuuya looked away. “There might not be a next time.”
Dazai’s hand tightened on his knee. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m serious,” Chuuya insisted, voice rough. “You don’t know what this thing is doing to me.”
“Neither do you,” Dazai shot back. “So don’t decide the ending yet.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The rain tapped quietly against the windows, steady and distant now. Chuuya’s breathing slowed, though the heat still coiled inside him, restless and unresolved.
Dazai stood and disappeared briefly into the other room. When he returned, he held a towel and a glass of water. He pressed the towel gently against Chuuya’s hip, careful not to touch the wound directly.
Chuuya flinched anyway.
“Sorry,” Dazai murmured.
“It’s fine,” Chuuya lied, again.
Dazai met his eyes. “You’re allowed to be scared, you know.”
Chuuya swallowed. His throat burned. “I don’t do scared.”
“No,” Dazai agreed softly. “You do stubborn. And reckless. And pretending you’re invincible.”
Chuuya huffed out a weak breath.
Dazai’s expression softened, just slightly. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
That was the worst part. That he believed him.
Chuuya leaned back into the couch, exhaustion finally dragging him down. Dazai stayed close, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Close enough that Chuuya could feel the steady warmth of him, solid and real.
Outside, the rain finally began to fade.
Together, they would walk this off. Together, they would survive it.
Together, they would be able to walk back into their regular lives.