Chapter Text
The man strapped to the chair was not Osamu Dazai.
It couldn’t be. Yes, he had the same hair, eyes, frame, and look of Dazai, but Chuuya had never seen the man so defeated, so quiet. So still.
He barely looked like he was breathing. He looked… broken.
Chuuya stared at him from the doorway of the cold, sterile room. Five days. Five days was enough time to turn Dazai into this shell?
He’d seen Dazai injured, sick, and at death's door many times throughout their partnership, and yet he’d never seen the man so… defeated. Unguarded. Even at his weakest, he still carried that carefully crafted mask as a shield, never showing his true thoughts or feelings. Never showing his true pain.
A weak huff of breath broke Chuuya from his trance, springing him back into action. He rushed down the metal staircase and across the room to the metal chair, slowing his steps as he got closer, assessing the damage to his partner.
He was stripped bare and chained to the chair, leaving him only in his underwear. Without the bandages covering his body, he looked so much smaller and frailer than what Chuuya was used to. He was shivering violently with no protection to the chill. His hands and legs were cuffed onto either side of the chair, tight enough that his hands were white from the cut off circulation.
Scars and bruises marked over his entire body. Old, faded scars that Chuuya had grown to be familiar with were covered by new lacerations and cuts. There were also several, deep lines cut into his chest. Upon closer inspection Chuuya recognized them as tally marks. There were five tally marks cut into his skin.
Chuuya inhaled sharply, looking them over. The first four looked to have begun to scar over each in various stages of healing, though the fifth one had reopened them, sluggishly bleeding down Dazai’s stomach.
Dazai was breathing shallowly and slowly, each exhale coming out as a wheeze. Definitely some internal damage. There was a blindfold tied tightly around his eyes and a gag shoved into his mouth and tied around his head. The gag was soaked through with spots of blood.
As Chuuya approached the chair, Dazai’s breathing picked up considerably. He let out a muffled whine of fear that sounded so unlike Dazia. The noise shattered Chuuya’s heart.
“Hey, hey now.” He said in the gentlest voice he could muster, “Hey Dazai, it’s me. It’s Chuuya. I’m here now, you’re safe.”
Dazai’s breathing didn’t slow, still frantic and scared. Chuuya let out a sigh and stepped forward, reaching for the blindfold.
As soon as Dazai sensed his hand close to his face, he jerked back violently. Whole body shaking and struggling even as it did nothing more than aggravate his wounds.
“Dammit, Dazai, stop it, you’ll hurt yourself.” He growled as he reached for the blindfold. Untying the damned thing was harder with Dazai's movements, but Chuuya still managed to pull it off rather quickly.
With the blindfold off, Dazai immediately recoiled from the blinding white lights of the room, hissing slightly through the gag. After a moment of adjusting his eyes swiveled back forward and locked onto Chuuya.
Recognition filled his widened eyes as he let out a garbled noise through the gag.
“Yeah, yeah I’m here. Just hold on and I’ll get you out of here,” he said, reaching for the blood and spit soaked cloth shoved into Dazai’s mouth.
With his eyes now trained on Chuuya, he was much calmer and still as Chuuya reached around him to untie the gag. Even still, Chuuya didn’t miss the way he flinched a little too hard when Chuuya’s fingers brushed against his skin. Chuuya clenched his jaw.
When Chuuya pulled the cloth from Dazai's mouth, he was disgusted to see the inside had been soaked with blood. Too much blood.
With his mouth free, Dazai coughed violently, a glob of red (still more blood) splattering onto the concrete below.
As the fit passed and his breathing came back under control, he looked back up at Chuuya.
“T-took you long e-enough.” His voice was raw, fractured, and broken. He said it with a smile that cracked at the edges and was stained with blood. Chuuya wanted to vomit.
Instead he moved behind Dazai so he wouldn’t catch the expression on his face and began fiddling with the chains, pretending not to notice the way Dazai stiffened and flinched when Chuuya left his view.
“Yeah, figured you could wait a little longer. I was enjoying the peace and quiet by myself.” He hadn’t slept in days and had been working non stop to find Dazai. He’d been miserable.
Dazai forced out a laugh that turned into a racking cough, leaving his entire body shuddering.
“A-a-aw, s-silly slug, yo-you know-“ his voice gave out and he let out a wet hacking cough.
“Shh. It’s okay, stay with me now I’m almost done here.”
He backed up a step from Dazai so that he wouldn’t nullify his ability and turned to the chains. With careful, practiced precision he focused his gravity on one point on the lock before the metal burst and dropped to the ground.
Dazai sighed and sagged a little deeper into the chair. Chuuya turned his attention to the other locks and carefully broke them the same way, the chains slipping off of Dazai’s bony arms without the lock to hold them up. Chuuya moved in front of the man. He was breathing heavily, labored. His eyes were growing hazy. That stupid, wide smile was still plastered to his face.
Chuuya snapped his fingers in front of his face. Dazai winced and made a small noise that caused Chuuya’s heart to twist.
“Can you move at all?” he asked, glancing at Dazai’s limp frame. He was so so thin, more than he had been before. The man had always been a glorified walking skeleton, hardly eating more than he was forced to, and keeping down even less. But this… this week here had done a clear number on him. He looked so small.
“W-what’s the slu-ug think’n of s-so har-rd?” Dazai forced out, voice shaky.
“Just that you look like shit. Can you move or am I gonna have to carry your ass out of here?”
Dazai laughed, or Chuuya thought it was supposed to be a laugh. It sounded more like he was choking on the air.
He looked down at his hands for a moment before swiveling back to Chuuya. “S-seems the d-d-dog will ca-carry his mas-mast-er-” The words broke into painful-sounding coughing.
Chuuya sighed and kneeled in front of Dazai. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around Dazai, helping his limp arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up as much as he could to give him some modicum of modesty. As the fabric covered his frame, his shivering slowly subsided.
He gently reached for Dazai’s hand, shushing the hiss let out at the contact, and slowly rubbing circles into his palm in an attempt to bring back feeling.
“Try not to speak too much. You sound awful.”
Dazai opened his mouth to throw out a retort, but seemed to think better, instead laying back wordlessly and adjusting his grin, which had slipped during his coughing fit.
Silence lapsed between them as Chuuya continued onto his other hand. The quiet was only broken by the faint buzzing of machines and Dazai’s labored breathing, interrupted by dry coughs here and there.
When Chuuya finally finished with Dazai’s ankles, he looked up to see that Dazai was nearly asleep. Eyes drooping and breath slowing. Chuuya longed for Dazai to be able to rest, his eyes were bloodshot and it was clear he had been kept awake for days. But it wasn’t time yet.
He went to snap in front of Dazai’s face but thought better of it, opting to tap his fingers on Dazai’s arm until his attention was brought back to him.
“Hey now, don’t go falling asleep and leaving all the hard work to me,” he chided. “Here, can you feel your arms and legs now? They should be doing a little better.”
Dazai blinked several times before looking down at his arms. After a tense moment, the fingers on his right hand slowly began to move, tapping along the arm of the chair. Chuuya sighed in relief. At least he wasn’t completely broken.
“Okay. I think I’ll have to carry you, so--”
“I c-can walk.” His voice was quiet but firm. “Just ne-need a little he-help.”
Chuuya was quiet for a moment, considering the options. In Dazai’s condition, they’d likely get out of here faster if he carried him out, but Dazai seemed adamant. At some level Chuuya understood- it was harder to look strong and unbothered when you’re thrown over your partner's shoulder and carried out of a compound like a damsel in distress. Dazai had far too much pride for that, and so he would walk out. He couldn’t look weak.
“At least lean on me. ‘else we’ll take forever to get out of here.”
Dazai nodded, not fighting him for once. He took a deep, steadying breath before stretching his mouth into a wide, sham smile.
“‘K. ‘m r-ready.”
Chuuya slipped an arm underneath Dazai’s, supporting his weight as he helped him stand. As soon as he put weight on his legs, Dazai gasped and fell forward.
Chuuya caught him almost immediately, preventing him from any real harm. He held onto him as Dazai sucked in greedy breaths for air. He mumbled something through his panting that Chuuya didn’t catch.
“What was that?” Chuuya asked, leaning closer.
A few more ragged pants before Dazai spoke again in a low, almost defeated, whisper. “I really… hate pain.”
Chuuya nodded, lifting Dazai up again so he was supporting most of his weight while Dazai still had his feet on the ground. He looked at Dazai, searching him for a moment. That damn smile was still painted across his face. He turned away and began to lead them out.
* * * * *
Their escape was slow. Dazai stumbled over himself with each step, panting with exertion. He was breathing so hard Chuuya was sure he would pass out. They weren’t making much progress. Even still, Dazai adamantly refused Chuuya’s offer to carry him. To some degree, Chuuya understood. It was about pride, mostly. Osamu Dazai would not look weak.
Chuuya didn’t have the heart to mention that Dazai looked like the definition of “weak” right now. From the way his shaky legs could barely support his small body weight, how thin he was (accentuated by the coat that was draped over him), the way he was so pale he looked like a sheet of paper–a sharp contrast to the purples and blacks and blues and greens and reds that covered his body–and of course, the shaking that had yet to leave his body.
He looked as if a small gust of wind could knock him over and kill him, and if Chuuya didn’t know Dazai he would’ve agreed.
But he did know Dazai. And Dazai was not weak. He would get through this. He’d be pestering Chuuya and outsmarting him in no time. Chuuya forced himself to believe it.
He glanced back at the brunette on his shoulder. He was grinning widely, but his eyes were empty. At some point, the wounds at the corners of his mouth had split open, causing twin trails of blood to drip down his face. It was grotesque.
The smile was a defence mechanism, Chuuya knew. An attempt to convince any onlookers that the “demon prodigy” was still here, still undefeated.
It didn’t exactly have the intended effect.
“I took care of all the guards on the way in,” Chuuya mentioned casually. There’s no one here, you can drop the facade. It said, You can let your guard down. It’s safe.
Dazai nodded. “Chibi d-did a good j-ob.” His voice was thick with exhaustion.
Chuuya held back a sigh as he readjusted his hold on the mackerel. He knew he wouldn’t drop it.
He looked forward, calculating how much longer it would take to get out of there at that pace. Too long.
* * * * *
Once out of the facility, the two stumbled their way into the forest. Chuuya had hidden a mafia car and driver in the woods nearby, anticipating that Dazai would be too injured to walk very far. Even still, Dazai was way past his limit. He’d begun limping, and the shaking that wracked his body had intensified. He was the picture of pain, and Chuuya couldn’t deny the way it pulled on his heart to see him like that.
But they made it. They staggered to the black armored car and Chuuya threw open the door, dropping Dazai inside and slipping in beside him.
He briskly instructed the driver where to go before sliding the partition closed, granting the two privacy. Chuuya slumped back against the leather upholstery, heaving an exhausted sigh and allowing his eyes to shut for just a moment.
But then he heard the faint wheezing of his partner next to him and it pulled him from his relaxation. He turned his attention to Dazai. Somewhere during their journey, Chuuya’s coat had slipped off of Dazai’s bony shoulder. Chuuya gently reached over and pulled the collar up to cover Dazai once more.
He let his hand linger for a moment, half expecting Dazai to push him away. But Dazai leaned slightly into his touch, breathing labourously.
“Hey.”
Dazai looked up at Chuuya’s voice. Chuuya moved his hand from Dazai’s shoulder, reaching up to his mouth.
“You’re bleeding…”
Blood slid from the split corners of Dazai’s lips, aggravated by the way Dazai smiled so widely. Chuuya swiped at it.
Dazai turned away, leaning against the cool glass of the car window.
“Chuu worries too much…”
* * * * *
The car ride was long and restless, for both of them. By the time they pulled up in front of his apartment, Chuuya could feel the bone-deep exhaustion pulling at his eyelids. He glanced at his partner who was far too quiet for Chuuya’s comfort. This was a goddamn mess.
Heaving a sigh, Chuuya lifted himself out of the car and to the other side, opening Dazai’s door. Dazai nearly fell out of the car with a gasp, only saved from the pavement by Chuuya grabbing him and pushing him back up. He frowned. Was Dazai so out of it he didn’t even realize Chuuya had left to open his door?
Chuuya could see the driver glancing back at them impatiently. Chuuya grit his teeth. Yes, it was late, nearly one in the morning, and the mission had taken longer than initially planned, but couldn’t he see Dazai’s condition? He really expected the injured man to jump out of the car and skip his way inside? Maybe toss a few coins the driver's way?
Chuuya bit his tongue to keep from voicing his outrage, turning back to his partner. Painstakingly, he lifted Dazai out of the car, God he’s so light-
Chuuya attempted to slide his arm under Dazai’s legs to carry him inside, but Dazai shook his head.
“N-no. ‘can w’lk”
He forced himself to his feet, gasping and panting as he leaned against Chuuya, who took most of his weight.
No sooner was he out of the car before the driver slammed on the gas and sped away, causing Dazai to stumble into Chuuya. For what must’ve been the millionth time that night, Chuuya caught him.
“Where…” Dazai struggled to catch his breath. “W-where are w-we…”
Chuuya looked from him to the large, distinct apartment building.
“Uhh we’re at my apartment. What, did you hit your head or something?”
“Wh-why?”
Chuuya rolled his eyes. “‘Cause, you’re acting like a complete idiot. You-”
“Wh-why are we here?”
“...to clean you up? Take care of those injuries…?”
He stared at Dazai, watching the confusion evident on his face. Was he actually stupid?
“What, you didn’t think I’d just drop you off in that shipping container and leave you to diem did you? Tch, you really are stupid.”
Dazai didn’t answer, just smiled at him with blank eyes.
Chuuya just sighed and led them inside. The lobby was thankfully empty, and Chuuya felt Dazai relax slightly at that. They made their way to the elevator, Chuuya pressed the button for his floor and watched the door slide closed.
He glanced at the man propped up against his shoulder. His eyes were closed and he swayed a little on his feet. He was still wheezing out breaths, like the simple act of breathing pained him. Probably internal injury. Chuuya filed the information away for later.
The elevator came smoothly to a stop, opening to one of the top floors. The luxury and expensiveness was clear even in the hallway, providing a sharp contrast to the two blood soaked teenagers. Chuuya dragged a half-awake Dazai to the end of the hall, rifling through his pocket for a moment to find his keys, eventually fishing them out and opening the door.
The two stumbled into the lavish (or “tacky”, as a more-conscious less-injured Dazai would put it) apartment. Chuuya turned to lock the door, before removing his shoes and hat. Before he could even finish with that, a thump made him spin around.
Dazai laid collapsed on the polished wood floors, body shaking violently and lungs heaving for air. His smile, his mask had finally slipped from his face. Revealing how bad things had really gotten. Chuuya dropped to his side in an instant, mind scrambling for what to do.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He’d know his injuries were bad, but he’d half expected Dazai to limp into the guest bedroom and tend to his wounds in private not- not fall to the floor and start goddamn convulsing.
As Chuuya’s hands hovered uselessly above Dazai, unsure of where to even begin, he heard a strained whisper from Dazai’s mouth. He leaned closer, craning his ear towards the voice.
“Chuu-Chuuya. I-I really h-hate p-pain-n.”
The already heart wrenching statement was enunciated by a full body shiver that wracked Dazai’s frame and tore a whimper from his throat.
“Shit, I-I know Dazai, I’ve uh, I’ve got you it’s gonna be… gonna be…”
He trailed off as he heaved Dazai into his arms. For once, the action was met without protest. Anxiety spiked through his heart as he rushed them to the bathroom as fast as he could without jostling the man. He carefully placed Dazai on the floor, leaning him against the side of the bath tub, before rushing to gather medical supplies.
He could feel his heart racing, God, he couldn't let him die. Was he going to die? Shit, this was worse than he thought. He swallowed down anxiety and bile as he finished raiding the medicine cabinet, gathering whatever he thought might be of use.
He dropped to his knees in front of his partner, who had become noticeably more pale.
“You okay there, mackerel?”
“Think I’m- T-think ‘m gonna t-throw-” He was cut off by a sharp gag that made his eyes go wide, hand scrambling to cover his mouth as his body seized again.
Chuuya grabbed the nearby trash basket, thrusting it under Dazai’s chin just in time for a torrent of vomit to force itself from his mouth. He retched yellow, thin bile into the basket. Chuuya hesitantly reached up to rub his partners back, eager to provide some sort of comfort but hopelessly lost on how to really help.
Dazai curled over the basket, heaving and gagging and letting out whimpers of pain that tore at Chuuya’s heart. When the vomiting spell finally let up, Dazai collapsed back against the porcelain of the tub, letting out a whine that choked into a weak cough. Chuuya carefully got up, making his way to the sink. He reached for a glass that he kept on the counter and a bottle of mouthwash, filling the glass and coming back to Dazai’s side.
His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily, though Chuuya could still hear the faint wheezing beneath it. He set the glass aside and poured a capful of mouthwash, tapping Dazai’s shoulder to get him to look up. He offered the mouthwash wordlessly and Dazai took it before spitting it into the basket still in his hands. Chuuya offered him the water, which Dazai drank greedily.
Chuuya leaned back as he watched Dazai, carefully deciding what to do next. He didn’t really have much experience in medical beyond basic first aid, unlike Dazai, who had learned how to treat all manner of injuries from Mori. God, he wished their positions were reversed.
Chuuya carefully set the empty glass and the bin on the floor.
“Still nauseous? I have some stuff that could help if you need it?”
Dazai shook his head. “ ‘s passed.”
Chuuya hesitated, “That looked… uh, that looked really bad. Should I call Mori-”
Before the name was even entirely out of his mouth, Dazai’s entire body jolted, his breathing picking up as he frantically shook his head.
“O-okay! Okay, we won’t call him, j-just calm down, alright?”
Dazai stilled, breathing still too fast but looking like the promise had placated him for the time being. Chuuya swallowed.
“Alright… um, should we get you cleaned up then? I was thinking I could run you a bath… um… if you’re up to it.”
Dazai was quiet for a moment looking at the opposite wall, seemingly lost in thought. Eventually he nodded his head.
Chuuya sprang up, glad to finally have something to do, something he knew how to do. He switched the water on, testing to make sure the water wasn’t too cold or hot, and then turned back to his partner to get him ready.
Luckily (or unluckily), Dazai wasn’t wearing much beyond Chuuya’s coat and his underwear. Even his bandages were discarded, leaving his pale, scarred and bruised skin exposed. Chuuya started with his coat, gently unbuttoning it and sliding the sleeves from Dazai’s arms. He was trying to be slow, careful as he minded Dazai’s injuries. He felt something in him lurch every time Dazai winced or made a low noise of pain through the process.
With the coat off he glanced at the only remaining piece of clothing on Dazai’s body. He swallowed, now was not the time for embarrassment. Not when Dazai was so out of it he didn’t even make a joke at the way a blush had creeped onto Chuuya’s face. Chuuya slid the fabric off of Dazai’s body, mumbling an apology as he did so.
Now completely undressed, Chuuya turned back to the tub, turning off the tap and testing the water again. He rolled up his sleeves and turned back to Dazai, reaching to lift him in the bath.
Dazai jerked away from his touch, eyes wide as he slammed his back against the porcelain tub. For a moment, Chuuya thought he was in the throes of another seizure, but the other man began shaking his head violently.
“Dazai,” Chuuya said exasperatingly, “c’mon now, what are you doing? You said a bath was fine.”
Dazai was still shaking his head, muttering something under his breath.
“Dazai, I'm serious. You’re filthy and I’m not letting you get into bed covered in all that grime. Those sheets cost more than your year's salary.”
Dazai mumbled something in return, a joke or an excuse Chuuya couldn’t quite catch.
“What? Speak up, mackerel.” Chuuya was rapidly losing patience.
“You first.” Dazai said, voice still low and weak, but firm. His eyes had a glint to them.
“Huh? ‘Me first?’ What, in the bath? C’mon…”
Dazai shook his head again and repeated himself. It was then that Chuuya caught the look in his eyes.
Fear.
Dazai was terrified.
Chuuya blinked at the revelation, and then sighed, relenting. He wasn’t sure how exactly getting in the bath first would help, but if it was what it took to get him one step closer to passing out in bed, he’d do it.
He also couldn’t stand to see that look of terror on his partner's face. It pained him in a way that he couldn’t quite place.
Standing up, Chuuya unbuttoned his shirt, dropping it to the floor. Followed by his pants and socks. He kept his underwear, he’d allow himself some dignity here. He met Dazai’s eyes again, and lowered himself into the water. He sighed, his eyes slipping closed for a moment as the warm water seeped relief into his tired bones.
“See?” He said, reaching out a hand to Dazai. “It’s all good. Nice, even. Care to join me?”
Dazai’s gaze flitted over him suspiciously, before giving a mute nod. Chuuya sat up and reached out, pulling the other man into the tub with him. He flinched once his skin made contact with the water, before slowly and tentatively relaxing.
“Uh do.. Did you want me to stay in or?”
Dazai was quiet, looking down at the clear water.
“Could you stay, please?”
Chuuya blinked. He searched his brain, trying to remember the last time Dazai had said please, much less in that tone.
“Yeah, alright.”
He sat back and let the other man lean against him, pointedly ignoring the way his heart fluttered.
* * * * *
There was a quiet peace in the room as Chuuya ran a bar of soap gently over Dazai's skin. He was careful to mind the bruises and cuts that littered the beaten body. It was silent aside from the lapping water and Dazai’s sharp breaths every now and then. The longer Chuuya cleaned Dazai’s battered body, the more he could feel the man leaning his weight against him. Dazai was exhausted, and Chuuya felt guilty that there was still so much to do before he could rest.
“The l-last time…” Dazai’s fragile voice broke the silence, causing Chuuya to pause, anticipating for him to go on.
But he didn’t say anything more, just sat there against Chuuya. For a moment he wondered if the man had even spoken at all, or if Chuuya’s sleep deprived brain had simply imagined it.
“The last time? Last time, what?” He prodded.
“Last ‘ime I h-had a bath.”
Chuuya snorted “I’d guess probably the last time Hell was frozen over.”
Dazai ignored him, turning his hand over in the water, watching the small waves the movement made.
“W-was when I m-messed up.”
Chuuya paused, before carefully moving to wash the rest of Dazai’s body.
“They’d been h-hurting m-me, but it w’sn’t working, I would-wouldn’t talk. So they t-took off my clothes, s-striped me… they t-took my b-bandages.” Dazai’s face screwed up in annoyance at the memory, as if taking his bandages had been the biggest indignity of all. Chuuya would've laughed if his heart wasn’t pounding in his chest.
“They p-put me in a tub, and it was c-cold. Really cold. And th-then they put th-these wires all ‘ver me. They-they’d ask a question, and ‘f I g-got it wrong they’d sh-shock me.”
Chuuya was fully frozen now. Eyes locked onto Dazai, who was still staring at his hand in the water.
“H-hurt a lot. I s-screamed.” Dazai leaned back fully onto Chuuya, erasing any space that had been between them.
“Don’t l-like pain…”
Chuuya set down the soap, reaching for Dazai. He opened his mouth, but the words escaped him. What could he even say to that? I’m sorry or Damn, that sucks didn’t seem to encapsulate his thoughts.
“It’s over now,” he settled on. “They’re not gonna hurt you anymore.”
Dazai didn’t respond, still looking off at the wall. Almost like he was back there again. Chuuya sat up, turning Dazai slightly. “Can I wash your hair?”
Deep brown eyes searched blue, looking for something Chuuya wasn’t sure of. He nodded and Chuuya reached for the shampoo bottle.
Quiet fell over them again as Chuuya lathered the soap into Dazai’s hair, carefully rinsing it. It was comfortable, the way Dazai pressed his full weight against Chuuya, the content sighs he would make when Chuuya scratched his scalp, the little hum as he rinsed his hair with water. All of it fit together to paint the picture of serenity.
Even after Dazai’s hair was washed and his body clean, neither of them moved. Chuuya wrapped his arms around him and held him there. It was peaceful. It was nice. For a moment, he forgot the situation. They were just normal teenagers, just kids enjoying each other's comfort and company.
A quiet laugh broke through the silence “Ch-Chuuya’s too nice…” He broke off into a hacking cough.
And then they were back. Still kids, but kids that had been tortured and beaten.
Chuuya buried his face into Dazai’s wet hair, breathing it in for a moment before separating. He stood up, stepping out of the tub. He reached over and pulled the plug on the drain before turning to get them some towels, pointedly ignoring how red his cheeks were.
He grabbed three of his luxuriously soft and exorbitantly expensive towels, wrapping one around himself and bringing the other two to the tub. He placed one on Dazai’s shoulders and used the other to dry off Dazai’s mop of hair.
Neither said anything.
Chuuya lifted him from the bathtub, placing him carefully on the floor and grabbing the medical supplies he had set out earlier. He glanced over Dazai’s body, looking for the extent of his injuries. He knew Dazai had some sort of internal injury, but that wasn’t something he knew how to deal with. That would have to wait for tomorrow, along with what Dazai had just described as extreme electrocution. Chuuya shivered at the thought. If he hadn’t already killed those psychos earlier, he’d be halfway across town by now hunting them down.
The current wounds that needed his care were the bruises, the marks left from the chains, a couple of cuts along his body, and the five gashes in Dazai’s stomach. They had stopped bleeding some time ago, but they were still open wounds that needed to be treated.
Chuuya exhaled slowly before turning to his pile of first aid supplies. He grabbed the suture kit and turned back to Dazai. As he attempted to thread the needle, he realized how much his hands were shaking. His breath was coming out in short bursts and his head was spinning. Anything medical related made him panic. It caused flashbacks, sending him back to N’s laboratory.
A gentle hand rested over his own, snapping him back to the present. Dazai was staring at him, gripping his hand in an effort to steady him. Chuuya looked down for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath and looking back up.
“S-sorry. It’s alright, I got it now.”
Dazai nodded, squeezing his wrist again before settling back and directing his gaze at the ceiling. This wasn’t particularly fun for either of them. With one more breath, Chuuya leaned forward and started his work.
Stitches were a delicate process, he had to walk the fine line between going slowly and carefully and rushing in order to cause Dazai as little suffering as possible. It was stressful, but every time he felt himself drifting or holding his breath too long, he felt a steady hand on his arm, encouraging him the rest of the way.
With the scars finally stitched up, Chuuya leaned back and let out a breath. Dazai did the same, sagging against the bath tub.
“I think the rest of these cuts will be ok with just some ointment and bandages,” Chuuya said, studying him.
Dazai nodded, still leaned against the tub. He looked so tired. Chuuya shared the sentiment.
* * * * *
Applying the ointment and wrapping Dazai’s bandages didn’t take very long. It was an intimate process, but one that Chuuya had done before. He sat back on his heels, admiring his work. Even Dazai seemed pleased, a content smile on his face and his eyes half lidded.
“Alright, I think that's about it. Any other injuries?”
Chuuya didn’t expect him to respond, already beginning to clean up the medical supplies.
“Uh huh. M’ wrist”
Chuuya looked up. “What about your wrist?”
“‘S broken, I t-think.” He slurred, not looking at Chuuya.
Chuuya blinked. “Are you fucking serious? Your wrist has been broken this whole time and you never said anything?”
Dazai nodded jerkily, still pointedly looking away. Chuuya sighed and shook his head. Of course, right when things were beginning to be amicable between them, he pulled something like this.
“Alright, which one?”
Dazai lifted his left wrist, wincing as he did so. Chuuya sighed again and took it to inspect it. Sure enough, his left wrist was swollen quite a bit, and there was some deep bruising around it Chuuya had missed at first.
“Yeah, looks broken. Shit Dazai, what’s wrong with you? Fucking asshole…” He muttered as he rifled through the pile of bandages and first aid. “I can make a splint for now, but you’ll need to get it checked out by Mori tomorrow. Along with the rest of your injuries.”
Dazai shivered at the name, and Chuuya felt a twinge of sympathy. Sympathy that was soon forgotten as he remembered that Dazai had had a broken wrist this whole time but neglected to tell him.
Carefully, he wrapped the wrist in a splint.
“Better?”
Dazai nodded.
Chuuya sighed, turning away and reaching for the empty glass on the floor, grunting as he got to his feet. Dazai looked up, watching him as he went to the sink to fill the glass again. He grabbed some painkillers from the cupboard, extra strength, the ones he used after corruption, and turned back to Dazai. He handed him the glass and the pills before straightening back up.
“I’ll go find you some clothes. Need anything else?”
Dazai shook his head, swallowing the pills and the water.
* * * * *
Chuuya returned a little bit later, dressed in an old t-shirt and sweatpants and holding an extra set of clothes for Dazai. He crouched in front of his partner, prepared to dress him when he stopped. Dazai looked extremely pale, eyes hazy and breathing heavily.
“Hey, Mackerel?” He shook his hand in front of his face.
Dazai responded with a groan, reaching out his hand. It took Chuuya a minute to realize what he was reaching for, the trash basket still by the sink. He grabbed it quickly, pushing it into Dazai’s arms. Dazai hunched over the basket, panting for a moment, before he let out a gag. His eyes went wide as he retched up more yellow, foamy stomach bile. Even after his entire stomach was expelled, his body continued dry heaving and gagging and whimpering in pain.
A tear squeezed itself from Dazai’s eye and down his cheek, and that’s what spurred Chuuya into action. He rubbed his hand over his partner’s back, murmuring comforting words as Dazai calmed down.
Chuuya got up to grab the glass and the mouthwash again, glancing back as he did so. The man sitting on his bathroom floor, hunched over himself while he gagged and made little noises of pain, more tears rolling down his face now, was not his partner. It was like Dazai had died in that compound and this pale, silent figure was his replacement.
He knelt down next to Dazai, water and mouthwash in hand, steadying him as he took a swig of each. He stayed next to him as he scrubbed at his eyes, slowly getting his breathing under control.
Once situated, Chuuya carefully dressed him in the pajamas. Dazai didn’t do much to help, forcing Chuuya to maneuver him like a doll. But finally, the feat was accomplished. He sat back a little, tapping Dazai's arm to get his attention.
“Need anything else before bed? Wanna eat something?”
Dazai shook his head immediately, looking queasy again.
“Ok, ok. Tomorrow then, alright? You’ll need to eat sometime.” He lectured sternly.
Without waiting for a response, Chuuya scooped him into his arms and carried him down the hall. He walked to the end before hesitating, pausing between the guest bedroom and his own bedroom, before finally making his decision.
He entered his bedroom, gently setting Dazai on the soft mattress. The guest bedroom was nice enough, lavishly decorated with high quality bedding, but it still paled in comparison to his own bed. And he figured, after everything he’d been through, Dazai deserved a little pampering.
He tucked the blanket around Dazai and fluffed the pillows under his head. He disappeared back to the bathroom for a moment before returning with the trash basket and filled glass of water, placing the glass on the nightstand and the basket by the bed, just in case.
He didn’t know when he had become so nurturing, so caring. Especially to Dazai, who had done next to nothing to deserve it. But he couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest when he looked at Dazai, face finally peaceful and content.
“I’ll be down the hall, if you need anything.”
“Chuuya…”
Chuuya hesitated at the door.
“Thank you. Ch-chuuya is too nice to me… thank you.”
Chuuya looked away quickly.
“Goodnight, Dazai.
“G’night, Chuu…”
The door shut softly behind him.