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His entire body was aching.
It had been a long week - or more accurately, long month - missions and meetings starting before the sun rose and kept him moving long after it had set each day. Chuuya was sure that he had finally opened the door to his and Dazai’s apartment well past midnight. A wayward glance was spared at the kitchen, but the bone deep exhaustion proved to be stronger than the emptiness in his stomach.
He found himself regretting his decision as he turned to lie on his bed. Turning to his side, the teen choked down an unexpected cough when his dry throat made itself known. It felt like sandpaper.
When was the last time he’d had anything to drink? A sleek black water bottle surely still sat back in his office, untouched throughout the day as he ran between meeting rooms and assignments.
Shadows danced in the corners of his vision, taunting him. He tensed as formless figures swirled in the dark, demanding his attention. Chuuya never considered himself to have a vast imagination, but he found it always came to life on nights like these.
Chuuya couldn’t say for sure what had triggered it today. Sure, he’d been running around nonstop the entire week without reprieve, but it wasn’t anything unexpected. Life in the Port Mafia meant that breaks were hard to come by, a fact the teenager had grown used to over the past few months. Busy periods were common and members were meant to take it in stride, but the lack of sleep and soreness in his body were starting to become harder to ignore.
A shudder racked up his body as he thought about his meeting with Mori before he’d left. As expected, very little was missed by the sharp eyes of the Port Mafia boss.
“Ah, Chuuya. Just the man I was hoping to speak with,” Mori sat relaxed in his seat, almost looking royal in his easy elegance. “I had a few questions to ask, if you didn’t mind.”
Chuuya had long since figured out that there was no way for him to truly steer these conversations. The boss had already decided how this interaction would go before it had even started. The “questions” asked were ones Mori already knew the answer to. They were nothing more than a tactic of humiliation. Mori feigned surprise while you were forced to incriminate yourself, following careful probing in all the right places to find the root of the problem he wanted to address.
The redhead was not like his partner, he did not know how to play this game of cat and mouse. Under countless layers of nuance and false pleasantries, there was a true intention to unearth, but that took careful digging that Chuuya wasn’t equipped for. He was the person with the drill to dig straight down wherever someone pointed him, not the delicate fossil brush needed to distinguish the rocks from an invaluable artifact.
The game had already started when he’d walked in, all that was left was to keep playing. With a bow of his head in a single nod, Chuuya prepared to dig himself straight into his own grave.
“How have you been as of late?” A false pleasantry, paired with the curve of eyes into an even faker smile.
“I’ve been well, sir. Thank you,” An acknowledgement, an acceptance to follow his game.
“That’s wonderful to hear. You truly have come such a long way in the months you’ve been with the Port Mafia,” The statement began with a click of the tongue and a pitying look, “What about your recent missions?”
What about them, indeed. It was an easy nudge toward the problem that was going to be addressed. He took the bone Mori threw his way.
Even with the guidance, Chuuya allowed a second to rack his brain and review the dozens of missions he’d been sent on as of late. Nothing stood out. What was Mori getting at?
“They have gone smoothly, as well.” Or as smoothly as they could go when stacked on top of each other. There was little chance for breaks before the next mission came his way. Still, they had gone as well as one could hope when trying to complete each one as quickly as possible to get to the next.
“Is that so?” Mori tilted his head, “It was to my understanding that this wasn’t the case.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Chuuya kept his arms behind his back. Any shift would be seen as an admission of guilt to something he wasn’t even sure he’d done.
“A building on the verge of collapsing near one of our vital ports, one of our stealth operatives under your supervision nearly blown, 3 individual trips to the infirmary. All this in just the past week. And that’s omitting the unsightly state of some of the reports you’ve handed in.”
Mori leaned forward in his seat, words cutting despite his neutral expression, “You’re getting sloppy, Chuuya-kun.”
Chuuya felt himself grow more tense after each example. It was true, in the haze of desire to get to the end of each mission, he’d made some simple mistakes.
“Perhaps Kouyou-san’s lessons aren’t up to par. Would you like to train under someone else?” He asked with a smirk.
“No!” Chuuya was unable to stop the knee jerk reaction to the question, but quickly corrected himself. He took a deep breath and tried again, “Apologies for the outburst, Mori-san, but I believe that Kouyou-san’s teachings have been very valuable and will continue to be.”
He wasn’t lying, per se, the lessons were endlessly helpful in teaching him how to exceed within the Port Mafia. Training his physical strength, helping him with his admittedly meager lexical skills, and etiquette lessons have been the most educating lessons he’d ever had. No one else had the grace and patience to deal with his short temper, as well.
However, his mentor had recently discovered a monumental secret of Chuuya’s. Instead of reporting him, the younger mafia member was surprised with the amount of care that she treated him with. Her “tea times” were the only thing keeping him afloat these days, as he had short moments to fall into a simpler mindset and take a break from the mountain of tasks piling on his shoulders.
But Mori couldn’t- shouldn’t know about that. Both redheads had sworn themselves to secrecy and Chuuya trusted that she hadn’t said anything. Their meetings had happened less than a handful of times and were very well covered with the premise of general check-ins.
The man in front of him had an uncanny ability to dig deep and discover what was hidden from the public eye. It was likely he’d had an inkling to what was going on behind closed doors.
“It is unbecoming of a Port Mafia member to show weakness, especially not a specimen like you,” he began with a closed eye smile, “Remember, you are still new here. Your place is not yet stable. I would hate for your position to be terminated over a silly hobby.”
It wasn’t a silly hobby, he wanted to scream, but he kept his mouth shut and eyes low. Chuuya was something distinctly other, somewhere between a mortal and a god. He didn’t have rights to the luxury of humanity.
“I understand.” He gave a slight bow, unwilling to meet violet eyes that were undoubtedly staring straight into his soul.
“Very well.” It was a dismissal. The teenager took the opportunity to begin taking his leave.
“And Chuuya?”
The man in question froze, turning slowly on his heel to face Mori.
“It would be a shame if we have to reconcile again. I’m afraid we may have to resort to more unconventional methods to correct this problem of yours next time.”
Ice shot down his spine. Tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, Chuuya graced the response with a brief nod before leaving as quickly as he could without running.
Silk sheets and an Egyptian cotton comforter kept him safe from the outside world. He grimaced around a swallow, unable to stifle his cough this time. The urge to curl into himself was strong, but he stayed still.
He was thirsty.
Through the darkness, the door felt far away. After a moment of contemplation, he slowly sat up, the covers pooling into his lap. He eyed the throw blanket sitting at the edge of the bed. It was an unobtrusive grey hue, comforting when the walls of the room started to close in on itself.
He bit his lip, contemplating. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to bring the blanket with him, right? Just to keep him warm, if nothing else.
Nodding to himself, his hands found their way into the fuzzy material and he made his way out of bed. Chuuya hugged it close as he trekked to the bedroom door, knuckles turning white from his nervous grip.
Although he tried to avoid it, this wasn’t the first time Chuuya had left his room in this uncertain state. In the wee hours of the night like now, when the world felt larger than usual, the ability user found it harder to ignore his needs. A small snack or cup of milk was often snuck back into his room after what felt like hours of second guessing himself.
While this hesitation used to be from fear of leaving the safety of his bedroom, everything feeling much more overwhelming, the last month had introduced him to a new problem: Dazai.
After one too many failed suicide attempts in his ridiculous shipping container, Mori officially moved Dazai and Chuuya into a shared apartment. Chuuya was essentially downgraded to being a glorified babysitter for the idiot, stuck trying to improve his absolutely abysmal lifestyle and prevent any more attempts within the walls of their shared home. Dazai was a headache to be around already, so the redhead had expected daily migraines from living with the other boy.
It was much to his surprise that Dazai wasn’t completely intolerable. While Chuuya was often the one tasked with meals and general upkeep, Dazai was unexpectedly clean. From what he’d seen, even his bedroom wasn’t too messy, just cluttered in a way that only the brunette could likely know the organization of.
His company wasn’t always insufferable either. Evenings spent lounging around in shared company or playing video games were quite nice, actually, not that either teen would admit it.
While the change hadn’t been too difficult, Chuuya was faced with a different fear than usual when trying to sneak around at night. He’d known that Dazai’s sleep schedule was all over the place, but he often kept to himself in his room at night. Even if he was asleep, any noise was quick to wake him up.
Any sound Chuuya made would surely be caught by the brunette, but he’d done this before. Releasing his death grip from the blanket, he slowly turned the knob of his door. Once it was about halfway open - he’d memorized the point the door starts to creak on its hinges -he tiptoed out.
His steps quickened as the darkness started to swirl around him once again, flipping on the kitchen lights with little tact.
Grabbing a glass from the upper cabinets (which he did not need to go on his toes to reach, thank you very much), he fumbled to the sink and filled it up. The blanket was slipping from broad shoulders without any hold on it, but it wasn’t paid any mind as Chuuya greedily gulped down water.
Once it was empty, he refilled it once more. The second drink was suddenly interrupted by a voice cutting through the dark hall.
“My my, it seems the dog snuck his way out of his crate~”
Chuuya whirled around, heart jumping in his throat while he stifled any verbal reaction. He didn’t notice his elbow pushing the glass over the counter until it was too late.
Blue eyes stared with rising dread as the glass hit the ground, unable to reach it in time. Shattered shards scattered across the kitchen floor, puddles of water spilling out and surrounding the mess.
He swallowed thickly, unable to look away from the mess he made. Chuuya rarely dropped things, quick to use For the Tainted Sorrow to catch whatever slipped through his hands. In this stupid fuzzy state paired with the shock of Dazai appearing, he hadn’t even had a chance to call upon his ability.
A heavy feeling pooled in his stomach. Mori was right- Chuuya was getting sloppy. The Port Mafia boss had countless other tools at his disposal, the threats he made against Chuuya were not empty. Time with Kouyou could quickly be removed if he kept this up. He needed the older woman to stay sharp, to help cope with the stressful days and tedious nights. His own position would be in danger, too. Chuuya was aware that he was nothing more than a weapon to the older man, a means to an end. A knife that’s quick to dull is sure to be thrown out for a sharper blade. He was going to be thrown out, back onto the streets that encompassed most of his memory. Visions of fighting for a single crumb of food and shivering through harsh winters flashed through his mind.
Chuuya didn’t want to go back. He wanted to stay here, but he was inherently broken in more ways than steady meals and a roof over his head could fix. He’d go back to being unneeded, helpless, useless-
A cold hand touching his shoulder had the redhead flinching, stumbling forward blindly. A gasp left his lips and he realized he’d been holding his breath, a sharp exhale swiftly following.
There was glass everywhere. He needed to clean up the glass.
Before his knees could hit the tile below, the cold hands returned, grasping under his arms and pulling him back. Panic seized at Chuuya as he tried to escape from the perpetrator with a wheeze. Suddenly, he was being lifted up and moved around. He thrashed in the hold, kicking back at the perpetrator when he was placed down on something soft. Yanking himself away, the padding hit his back, as well.
“Hey-”
The world was spinning and dark spots invaded his vision. Chuuya didn’t understand what was going on. He only knew that he was at fault, he fucked up everything he touched. He was a monster housing a demon inside of him. Monsters don’t deserve to live, they bring too much harm to others.
“Chibi-“
All he did was infect those around him and make everything worse. He shouldn’t be here, he knew deep down he was nothing more than an experiment gone wrong. It was in his bones. His hands were decaying and rotten. They scratched harshly at his arms, trying to rid themselves of the infection rooted deep inside.
He could feel Arahabaki writhing underneath his skin, begging for release. He was a poorly contained vessel, he had no control of the havoc he could wreak. Chuuya felt so small compared to the chaos within him. Deeper, he needed to go deeper, scratch harder, it wasn’t enough-
“Chuuya.”
A harsh voice had him jerking his head up, where blue met chocolate brown. They were so steady, so calm despite being face to face with a monster. It anchored him despite the whirlwind they were surrounded with. The world was still spinning, why wasn’t the other panicking when they could barely see straight?
“Breathe.”
But it was so hard. He tried to express that to the figure in front of him, but a heaving gasp was all that came out.
He couldn’t even do this right, he was a failure-
“Look at me. Follow my breaths.”
It was a simple order. Chuuya had to try, had to prove he could be worth something, even if it was for a task that shouldn’t require any second thought. He choked on his next inhale, lungs spasming as let out air too soon. Wrong, he’d done it wrong. He was struggling to stay upright when the voice started again.
“That’s good, keep going, Chibi.”
What?
Chuuya wasn’t good, he wasn’t anywhere close. He couldn’t spare a breath to correct him, so he focused on following the slow rise and fall of the other’s chest.
The voice was mistaken, but he couldn’t help but want to hear it again. Maybe if he fixed himself, the voice would praise him once more.
His next exhale lasted longer than before. He shuddered as he continued, but the dots in his vision were starting to lessen. He shifted his gaze up to the steady eyes once again, asking a silent question.
“Yes, just that! I guess old dogs can learn new tricks.” Chuuya’s breath caught as he registered the tease. Like the last piece of a puzzle finally found, he realized that he was looking at no one other than Dazai.
Dazai wasn’t supposed to see him like this, he’d been so careful to avoid waking him up. Maybe he’d already been awake? Still, Chuuya thought that he was quiet on his way out of the bedroom. He was giving the other free blackmail, another reason to report him to Mori. He didn’t want to be punished again - Mori’s punishments were worse than any other. Phantom hands traced his body at the mere thought. They weren’t actually there, Chuuya was aware, but he couldn’t help the way his body tensed back up at the expectation of pain.
“Oya, Chibi, I just worked so hard to slow your breathing. Don’t stop now.” Dazai’s voice was light and lilting, but his smile sat oddly on his face. The slight furrow in his eyebrows contrasted his teasing words.
Cold fingers grasped his own and Chuuya noticed his chest growing tighter again. The gentle squeeze of the other’s hand threw him for a loop, the pressure oddly grounding. He squeezed back gently, reveling in the size difference between their hands. Dazai’s hand was large, slender fingers encompassing his own. It made Chuuya feel uncharacteristically small, yet something about it felt safe.
Dazai started squeezing his hand to different patterns, patiently waiting for Chuuya to echo it after. It was easy to get lost in the odd game, worries pushed to the back of his mind as he concentrated on the new sequence of squeezes that he tried to follow.
He was sure he didn’t quite hit the mark a few times, coordination failing his trembling limbs. Even so, each time he copied the pattern, a gentle thumb ran over the back of his hand as silent praise.
A rapid series of pulses too nonsensical to imitate had Chuuya’s lips twitching upwards. Dazai’s fingers wiggled in response to his amusement and the smaller boy huffed in amusement.
Focus broken, Chuuya glanced around and started to gain his bearings. He was on the living room couch, Dazai now sitting next to him instead of crouched in front of him. Dazai tapped on his palm when he tried to turn around to see the kitchen, but he didn’t need to see more than a passing glimpse to know that the mess was still there.
The heavy stone in his stomach was still there. All it took was a small surprise to have Chuuya falling apart, one glass breaking led to him stuck in a damn panic attack that took who knows how long to crawl out of.
His eyes were stinging, trying and pathetically failing to blink back tears that threatened to fall. A hiccup escaped his lips as he curled into himself, clutching hard at his shirt with his free hand.
“What’s going through that head of yours?”
A fingertip softly poked at his temple. Chuuya once again made eye contact with Dazai.
There’s something wrong with me. I feel like I’m breaking to pieces just like that fucking glass and I don’t think anyone can put me back together this time, not even you. I don’t know why you’re even bothering to try with me. I fall apart every night in my room under the covers. Nothing I’ve tried has helped. I’m just so tired. I don’t think I can keep going like this. At this rate, I’ll fall apart before Arahabaki has the chance to kill me.
But his tongue was too heavy, mind too foggy to attempt to explain all of that.
“Broke th’ cup.” is all that he managed to say, voice cracking as he forced the words out. Tears were running down his face in earnest now.
“Well, I was the one who scared you with my superior sleuthing skills, so it seems we both made a mistake!”
Chuuya took a moment too long to digest the words. Dazai’s convoluted language was difficult for him to wrap his head around tonight.
The statement wasn’t wrong, he thought. Dazai had startled him, but it shouldn’t have caused such an extreme reaction. He bit his lip, struggling to come up with the words to refute the claim. The thought of stringing together a full sentence was too much. He was saved from having to respond when the taller boy spoke once more.
“Slug’s this upset over a single glass? Where were these tears when I tried to cook in the kitchen during my first night here?”
The image of broken plates and a large fire over the stovetop appeared unbidden in his mind. Panicked yells overlapped loud cackling as a towel was flung around to put out the flames. Dazai was a questionable cook, but he wasn’t that bad. Apparently, he’d explained after the kitchen was cleaned, the only evidence of the mess being faint scorch marks on the wall, this was his idea of a “housewarming” gift to celebrate moving in together.
While it was an annoyance at the time, the memory of the ridiculous event elicited a small smile. It had been kind of funny, now that he thought back to it.
A loud gasp interrupted his reminiscence.
“Could it be?? A smile from the Chibi?” Dazai exaggerated, mouth open and hands to his cheeks.
The overly dramatic exclamation caused more amusement to bubble up, putting a hand over his mouth to cover the grin spreading across his lips. He couldn’t help it, Dazai was being so silly. He leaned forward, putting his feet to the ground, but stopped as sharp pain shot up from his soles. A confused glance down and he was met with an unsavory sight.
There was blood on the ground, a dripping puddle of red that stemmed from Chuuya himself.
He was just now registering the bloody mass that were his feet. Chuuya hadn’t even realized he’d stepped on the glass after he’d dropped it. Pieces were stuck in his feet, cutting into his skin.
Ouch.
Now that he’d noticed it, the pulsing and stinging were hard to ignore. It was far from the worst injury he’d had, truly laughable in the grand scheme of things, but he couldn’t help but whimper at the uncomfortable sensation of shards embedded in his soles. How he missed it until now was a mystery, it wasn’t hard to catch amongst the muted tones of the living room.
He glanced up at Dazai, who was already moving to stand up, eyes on the stained floor. Had he just seen it, too? It was yet another mess caused by Chuya. It seems Dazai was finally fed up with the shorter boy. Maybe he’d decided it wasn’t worth the effort and was going back to his bedroom.
Much to Chuuya’s confusion, Dazai instead stood in front of him and kneeled down to his level. He stood loosely, palms open and face relaxed.
“Hmm… There’s quite a bit of glass stuck in here. Perhaps we should make a quick stop to clean those dirty feet up, huh?” If he was annoyed, Dazai was doing a good job of hiding it. Not that that was unusual, discerning the many layers of the bandaged man to find his true intentions was something Chuuya was only able to do from experience.
Chuuya didn’t respond, but started to sit up to begin going to the bathroom. He paused when bandaged arms reached forward, opening up in a silent invitation. Chuuya tilted his head at the action.
“You can’t possibly expect to be able to walk on those to the bathroom. I don’t mind carrying my dog to safety just this one time,” he teased, tone airy.
The thought of walking sounded terrible right now. He felt unsteady as is before adding his torn up feet into the equation. If Dazai was offering then… surely it wouldn’t hurt to be carried?
Hesitantly, he nodded and squinted his eyes shut, preparing to be thrown over Dazai’s shoulders like a sack of potatoes and brought to the bathroom. It was to his surprise when he was raised gently from under his arms, guided to sit on the lanky man’s hips and circled his arms around a pale neck. The two wobbled for a moment as they adjusted to the hold before beginning the short walk to the bathroom.
Everything was so tall from up here, the shorter boy mused idly. Did Dazai really have this view every day? He swung his legs, reveling in how far from the ground they were. It made him feel inexplicably smaller. When nothing was said in response to his movements, Chuuya continued the fun swinging motion.
The trip ended all too quickly. He pursed his lips to stop his lips forming into a pout once he was placed down onto cold porcelain - no less gentle than before, he noticed. Careful care was taken to keep bloody feet off the ground as Dazai rummaged through the cabinets under the sink for their extensive first aid kit. Once he had what he needed, the brunette sat on the floor in front of him and inspected the cuts.
“Good news, nothing here is deep enough to need stitches! I’ll just take out the glass and bandage these feet right up,” Dazai’s voice was still enthusiastic. How he seemed so energetic and positive this late in the night after the incident just before was a mystery that would go unsolved.
Despite the highly telegraphed movements, Chuuya wasn’t quite able to avoid flinching when the other grabbed his right foot. Thankfully, he was spared from any teasing and the younger boy went straight to work.
The first shard of glass was removed swiftly and the redhead squeezed his eyes shut at the pain. Again, it really was negligible compared to the severity of most other injuries he experienced, but it just seemed more difficult right now.
Dazai hummed whenever he whimpered, some kind of acknowledgment or unspoken apology for the reaction. Chuuya refused to open his eyes back up; he didn’t want to look at the dripping red coming from his soles.
The process continued for an agonizing amount of time before he was cleaned up with a stinging alcohol wipe and bandages finally started to wrap around his feet. The pressure was nice, but pressed uncomfortably against the open gashes. Chuuya could still feel it throbbing under the wrappings and it hurt.
He blinked as thumbs swiped over his face, wiping away tears that he hadn’t even known were there. Chuuya hiccuped, unsure why he was crying over something so minimal. Everything just felt like it was too much, a small inconvenience leading to him spiraling and crying like a fucking child.
“We’re halfway done. All I need to do is fix up Chibi’s left foot and he’ll be good as new!” The attempt at comfort was appreciated, but didn’t do much to settle the swirling in his stomach. Something was off, Chuuya just didn’t know what.
“Just a little more, then we’ll be done,” Dazai consoled, but Chuuya wasn’t having it. It hurt, why couldn’t Dazai just leave him alone? A little glass never hurt anyone, he could deal with it in the morning.
A sob clawed out of his throat. Chuuya just wanted to go back to bed and forget this ever happened. He was so tired and confused and nothing was making sense anymore.
“It’s alright,” the calm voice returned once again, “Chibi’s more silly than usual like this. I didn’t think that was possible.”
A pause.
At those words, Chuuya’s heart leapt in his throat. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt nervous. What did Dazai mean by that? What was “like this”?
“Don’t get all shy on me now~ There’s nothing wrong if you’re feeling little.
What?
All of the air had been sucked out of the room. It felt like he was breathing through a straw.
Wrong, a voice in the back of his head was screaming, he’s wrong he’s wrong he’s wrongwrongwrongwrong-
“No!” Chuuya screeched, repeating the word over and over again because he wasn’t a Little, he couldn’t be, he wasn’t allowed, and maybe if he said it enough times it would be true-
The sound of weeping filled the bathroom, echoing on the tile walls. It was over. It was over and Dazai was going to tell Mori and he’d be screwed because a mafia member as high up as himself couldn’t be a Little.
Chuuya wasn’t even human, he couldn’t have a classification. Mori reminded him of this over and over again, punishment after punishment due to days feeling sluggish, paperwork turned in less legible than usual, missions littered with small mistakes and injuries that were so avoidable. He was going to be in so much trouble when this got back to the boss.
The feeling of kicks to the stomach with steel toed shoes and hands holding him down as he tried to shape up, to age up, masquerading as a normal person when he knew he wasn’t. A deep voice, as sharp as a knife rang in his ears, telling him to be better, work harder, I’m only doing this for your own good. You simply give me no other choice-
He scrambled off the porcelain edge of the toilet seat, knocking his head hard against the corner of the countertop. Something warm caught him before Chuuya could faceplant onto the cold tile floor.
A sound somewhere between a scream and a cry forced its way out of a scratchy throat and he gagged with the force of it. Chuuya wiggled against the firm hold he was caught in, but wasn’t able to do more than weakly hit the warmth in front of him. Panic coursed through his veins, he could barely hear himself over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.
A hand started holding his own when he pulled hard enough at his scalp to pull out strands of bright red hair. No matter how much he tried to pull away, he was held firm against the figure. Chuuya’s body wasn’t obeying his commands, trembling so hard he was sure he’d tip over without the support. His mouth felt jumbled, letting out cries and half formed words without his consent. He wasn’t even able to understand what his lips were trying to say.
Chuuya wasn’t sure how long he sat like that, frantically trying to find a way to deny Dazai’s claim and inconsolable at his inability to. It could’ve been minutes or hours before he finally gave up the fight he’d had no shot at winning to begin with, slumping over.
It was Dazai holding him together once again, his arms around Chuuya being the only thing keeping him from falling apart on the cold tile.
The only time he’d been held like this was after Corruption, pain so intense he barely even registered the touch of No Longer Human encompassing him. Just like in those moments, Dazai held him firm yet gentle, like he was something to be treasured. Despite how much he hated both situations, Chuuya couldn’t help but melt into the embrace.
They were rocking, he realized abruptly. For reasons he couldn’t explain, the steady movement was soothing. Hands circled him, one slowly rubbing his back. In the haze of panic, Chuuya desperately grasped at the comfort and held on tight. He was running out of tears to shed, sobbing dryly while he clutched the other.
It took a while for his sobs to quiet to cries, then to periodic hiccups. The sound of soft humming reached his ears, a nameless tune that Chuuya didn’t recognize. He felt heavy, leaning his entire body weight against Dazai, who stayed sitting up thanks to the wall behind him.
Despite the ache of his eyes and his hands that refused to stop trembling, Chuuya didn’t mind the idea of staying like this for the rest of the night. His body felt heavy, thoughts wading through honey.
“No sleeping just yet, Chibi.” His newfound peace was interrupted by Dazai. He’d never heard the younger boy speak so quietly before, no teasing remarks or underlying messages to decrypt.
Even so, Chuuya let out a grunt in response, tongue too heavy to tell Dazai off. Couldn’t Dazai tell how comfortable he was? The idea of moving was not welcome right now.
“There’s still glass in your left foot. It needs to be taken out before we can go to bed,” was the explanation Dazai gave.
Right, he’d forgotten about that. A glance down told him that the bleeding had stopped, but there were still visible shards stuck in his skin. He whined, pressing his face against Dazai’s chest to hide away from the problem and grimaced at the wet spot of tears and snot that undoubtedly came from the redhead.
Against his will, he was manhandled until he was sitting in Dazai’s lap in earnest, right side still flat against his chest. Chuuya couldn’t bring himself to unclench his hand from the soft fabric of the other boy’s sleep shirt.
Somehow, he could feel tears welling up in his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It had been such a long night, he felt overstretched and wrung out. All he wanted was for this to finally be over.
“Hmm, how about this,” the brunette’s chest rumbled as he spoke, “once we finish up, I’ll give you a big surprise!”
Despite himself, the boy perked up. A surprise? A spark of excitement lit up in him, though buried deep down. The exclamation didn’t seem like anything harmful, Dazai seemed enthusiastic about the surprise, too. Maybe it was naive, but he trusted the bandaged boy not to give him a “surprise” of kicking Chuuya onto the curb or - worse - Mori’s doorstep. After an admittedly short moment of contemplation, Chuuya nodded jerkily.
Dazai clapped once with a muted cheer before scooting the first aid kit over to their corner on the floor. Chuuya didn’t even flinch at the feeling of pliers pulling at his skin. He kept his face buried in the taller boy’s chest. Looking at it only made it worse.
He tried to focus on the murmurs of encouragement Dazai uttered after each shard was pulled out. He felt the chest he was lying on expand and contract as he spoke.
“Good as new!” Chuuya peeled his eyes open at the statement, unsure when they had closed. Relief hit him hard, any remaining tension in his shoulders released. Finally, it was over.
After some shuffling, the shorter boy felt himself being lifted up and taken somewhere. His head was comfortably settled on Dazai’s shoulders and the rhythmic steps started lulling him to sleep. Between one blink and the next, Chuuya felt himself being placed down onto the plush mattress of his bed.
He whimpered at the loss of warmth, hand still fisted in the other boy’s t-shirt. A hand petting his hair had him relaxing and gentle fingers easily separated his grip after.
“There’s a surprise for Chuuya, remember? I’ll grab it and be right back, promise.” Oh right, the surprise. Chuuya wondered what it could be. He didn’t fight as Dazai slipped out from his grip and left the room.
It felt like an eternity spent alone. Chuuya’s eyes were burning from trying to keep them open. Dazai promised he would come back. The redhead curled into himself anyway, unable to stop the stab of anxiety he felt.
His eyes must have closed again, because he had to strain to open them back up when he felt the bed dip from added weight.
“Sadly, Chuuya’s blanket is still dirty, but I have something else instead!”
He frowned as he thought about his grey blanket. Chuuya hadn’t even realized it had been dropped sometime during his panic. A stuffed animal appeared from behind Dazai’s back. It was a brown and white spotted dog, ears sticking up and face sewed in a smile. Chuuya blinked, confused.
“It reminded me of Chuuya, so I had to get it!” Dazai waved the plush around as he spoke. The soft noise it made from the grand gestures Dazai made, like sand being pushed around, was nice. He pulled his fingers out of his mouth (when had they gotten there?) to reach over and pat the plush’s head.
“‘Doggy.” Chuuya pointed out, quite dumbly.
“Very good, Chibi. A dog just like you. Now you can have your own pet!” Most of Dazai’s statements went in one ear and out the other. The final sentence caught up to the shorter boy after a brief pause.
Was this… for Chuuya?
“Mine?” He had to make sure he had understood correctly. He had admittedly been distracted by the toy while the other was speaking.
“Yup! Just for you.” The toy was pushed into his hands as Dazai assured him.
Chuuya’s first thought was that it was really soft. He didn’t have it in him to try to figure out the material at the moment, but it was clearly good quality. Its belly was the origin of the sound from earlier, small beads placed inside that were nice to squish. A squeak came out of his mouth after he tapped the dog’s tummy. The noise was so satisfying.
Hugging the plush tight to his chest, a rare feeling of contentment filled him, warming him up from the inside. He was so distracted he almost missed Dazai scooting away, no doubt trying to sneak away and leave.
One hand still on the plush, Chuuya was fast to grip a bandaged forearm to keep it from leaving. He made eye contact with Dazai, trying to convey his intent without speaking.
“It’s bedtime for tiny doggies,” the taller boy tapped his nose, “Time to let go.”
Chuuya kept his grip iron tight. Don’t leave, he was trying to say, just stay here. Somewhere in the very back of his head, he had the mind to be embarrassed at the blatant show of weakness, but things were too fuzzy for the thought to be entertained.
This wasn’t a question of whether or not a boundary would be broken by the boy staying. They’d slept in the same bed during missions with tight budgets and whenever the pain from Corruption was worse than average. Chuuya knew for a fact that Dazai slept better when they were together- or at least was certain that he’d at least get some sleep. The redhead was sure the other was exhausted, too, after being forced to deal with Chuuya’s pathetic behavior all night.
Plus, it would be nice to have some company, especially since he was sleeping without his blanket for the first time on a night like this.
His eyes bore into chocolate ones, refusing to back down. Chuuya was nothing if not stubborn.
After an intense battle of wills, Dazai sighed, breaking eye contact. Chuuya gave his new dog friend a shake during his wiggle of victory. In his excitement, he missed the fond look Dazai shot him as he lay down on the bed, shifting to get under the covers.
He also missed the way dark eyebrows raised in surprise when Chuuya immediately nuzzled up next to him, head resting on a bony chest. The body underneath him eventually released its tension, putting an arm around Chuuya.
Before he could fall asleep at last, the redhead felt his fingers being pulled out of his mouth - which, once again, he wasn’t sure how they’d ended up there in the first place.
There was no time to whine or even open his eyes before something else replaced it. Chuuya’s immediate instinct was to spit out the unknown item, but he felt bandaged fingers hold it in place.
It was rubbery and smooth. Not an unpleasant feeling, so he gave it an experimental suck. Once, twice, and-
Oh. Oh, that was really nice, actually.
Body feeling like putty, he sighed through his nose and curled closer to Dazai. He still felt the faint ache within his limbs, enduring despite the many distractions of the night, but Chuuya didn’t really mind it anymore. He could deal with that later.
Surrounded by Dazai and hugging his plush, the boy felt his body relax fully. For the first time in weeks, as the world faded away and sleep overcame him, Chuuya was finally content.