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he wasn’t supposed to see this. he wasn’t supposed to find you like this—so utterly broken and messed up.
but then again, it’s chuuya. it’s his apartment. and it’s definitely not his fault that you didn’t check your messages. no, this is your own fault for turning off your phone.
so how could you have known? that he’d be back from the mission early? that he’d stay extra quiet to not disturb you just in case you were sleeping on his side of the bed as usual when he’d be late?
you could have. if you had just looked at your damn phone. then he wouldn’t have had to find you like this—sitting on the ground, leaning against the frame of the bed, totally out of it and fucking miserable.
your body is trembling, fresh blood stains the ends of your sleeves as it trickles down your wrists, drenching the white fabric into a deep crimson color.
he’s at your side before your mind can even register him entering the room, kneeling down in front of you. his eyes are practically flooded with concern and a tinge of frustration.
he knows about your struggles, sort of. even though you never explicitly told him anything, he isn’t blind.
“you idiot… what did you do?” chuuya whispers softly as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.
you briefly close your eyes at the contact of his lips against your feverish skin, mumbling something inaudibly. perhaps an apology or just his name—he isn’t quite sure.
the blood loss isn’t severe. he’s seen worse, way worse. yet, you still look like you’re about to faint. it’s probably the adrenaline wearing off, leaving your body in a state of pure exhaustion.
chuuya gently picks you up, being careful not to accidentally brush against any of the deep cuts on your wrists. you whimper anyway.
your body relaxes ever so slightly in his arms, the familiar grip and scent soothing you, just a bit. he carries you toward the bathroom, gingerly helping you settle on the edge of the bathtub.
he makes sure you’re steady, holding you for just a while longer, giving you another kiss on the top of your head. you lean against him, burying your face in his side to shield your eyes from the stinging brightness.
chuuya lets go of you eventually, though, as the pungent smell of copper invades his nose. he grabs a first aid kit and a fresh cloth, which he wets at the sink before returning to you.
he kneels down in front of you again, gently taking your hands in his and squeezing them reassuringly. you can’t bear to look him in the eyes, feeling ashamed as you almost withdraw your hands.
chuuya doesn’t let go, though. instead, he only holds your hands tighter, frowning at the fact that you don’t feel comfortable letting him take care of you. then again, he can’t blame you. he doesn’t burden you with his worries either.
he turns your arms over, revealing your soft skin marred with deep cuts and slashes. they look like you used one of his blades he keeps lying around for safety purposes.
you lower your head, turning more inward as guilt washes over you. “i’m sorry…” you whisper, your voice rough as you swallow thickly.
chuuya doesn’t respond. instead, he takes the wet cloth and dabs at the edges of the cuts you made. you flinch as the rough material grazes your wounds.
he has half a mind to keep everything sharp locked away in the future, and half a mind to never leave your side again. however, he knows both of these options would never work out and would probably make you feel even more uncomfortable around him.
maybe even less like a human but more like an object he wants to protect—and that’s something chuuya would never want to make someone feel, especially not you. for all that, he knows what it’s like to not feel human. to constantly question your own thoughts and feelings, to deal with a sick mind.
he doesn’t understand your pain, not truly anyway. but he relates to it on a level only he can. he just can’t relate to your utterly stupid and awful coping mechanisms. this simply isn’t his cup of tea, and it unfortunately reminds him of another troubled soul.
sometimes he wonders if he’s enough for you. enough for you to cling to your life and keep holding on. in the end, he wasn’t enough for dazai, who keeps craving something more fulfilling and meaningful to his life, even though there probably never will be anything that fills his void.
and chuuya is just so fucking scared that you need that too. that he can’t fill the void you’re so desperately trying to fill.
you glance at chuuya, his quiet and thoughtful demeanor sending another wave of panic through you. is he thinking of leaving you? of never wanting to see or speak to you again?
you know you’re disgusting. you know you can be a lot, especially in these moments. you know you’re difficult to handle. and while chuuya has never in his life expressed even an amount of distaste towards you, you wouldn’t be surprised if he just pretended all along. and you wouldn’t blame him either.
chuuya notices your underlying panic. he can practically feel it from how tense and nervous you look, and he hates that he’s probably the one making you feel like this.
“hold still,” he mumbles, still dabbing away at your cuts. once he decides they look clean enough and all the dried scraps of blood are gone, he applies a thin layer of petroleum jelly around your cuts to keep the area moist.
his movements are tender against your irritated skin, but despite how gentle he is, you still feel a burning sensation whenever he gets too close to a cut.
applying the ointment is sort of tedious and takes chuuya some time. enough time for you to stare at his face and imagine the most gruesome breakup you can think of.
you don’t even realize that he’s already laying out gauze on your wounds and securing it by wrapping bandages somewhat tightly around your wrists.
eventually, chuuya looks up at you with a serious expression before standing up fully again. he stands between your legs and strokes your hair affectionately, pulling you closer against him.
you briefly close your eyes, enjoying the warmth his body radiates. “come on, let’s get you to bed,” chuuya says, picking you up in his arms again. you let him without protest.
he makes sure not to step on any of the medical treatments he left out in the open. he’ll take care of it tomorrow, as well as the bloodstain you left behind on the carpet in his bedroom.
he carefully sets you on top of the bed, your shirt riding up just a little. you don’t mind, though. chuuya looks down at you, his gaze lingering on your bloody sleeves. he walks to the closet and grabs one of his own shirts.
“arms up,” he demands, and you follow through with his request. he takes off your shirt, looking you over just in case you hurt yourself anywhere else. when he doesn’t find any more cuts, he dresses you in his shirt, wiping away your dried tears with the end of his own sleeves.
you simply gaze at him with half-lidded eyes, pulling him closer by his waist. your thumbs begin to trace circles through his clothes, and chuuya regards you with a small chuckle. “what are you doing?”
“nothing,” you answer after a long moment of silence, your hands moving down and along his belt. you tug at it hesitantly, almost testing the waters.
you’re aware this isn’t exactly the best moment to ask for intimacy, especially this kind of intimacy. after all, you definitely don’t look or feel your best right now.
but all of this can be pushed aside. you just want—no, need—this kind of reassurance from him. you need to know he isn’t disgusted by you or mortified by your self-destructiveness.
chuuya’s smile drops as soon as he realizes what you’re asking him for, and he gently takes your hands in his, stopping you from going any further. “we’re not doing this. not tonight,” he says calmly but firmly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.
your breath hitches at that, and you look away, feeling just a bit humiliated and pensive at his polite rejection. “is it because… you don’t find me attractive anymore?” you ask quietly, a sense of insecurity washing over you.
you bring your arms closer to your stomach, trying to hide them. you suddenly grow more aware of your surroundings, of what you did, and how much pain you must have inflicted on him.
of course he’s not going to want to sleep with you after that. god, how can you be so foolish? “sorry, that was a stupid question,” you mutter, your voice even quieter than before.
chuuya sits down beside you at that, looking at you with a heavy heart, unsure of what to do. he knows words are useless here and not his strong suit anyway, so he does what makes the most sense to him.
reluctantly, he leans in, stopping just a moment away from your face to think this through again. “fuck it…” he murmurs, exhaling shakily before tilting your head to face him. he rests his hand against your cheek, his thumb grazing the thin skin under your eye as he gently presses his lips against yours.
you’re startled for a moment but instantly return the kiss, practically melting into him. eventually, he brushes your hair out of the way with the hand that’s resting on your face and drags his lips lower.
he begins to plant light kisses along your sensitive skin, his other hand slowly slipping beneath your shirt. it’s warm against your skin, but doesn’t move any further.
“nothing you’d do could ever make me not want you, sweetheart,” chuuya whispers against your throat before moving to press his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling. if he could, he would take you right then and there. but he knows that would be unfair and wrong on so many levels.
“but you don’t want this, at least not right now,” he says reassuringly as he pulls away. “besides, you’re too tired anyway. you’d fall asleep before we even get to the good part.” he laughs softly, the thought of you falling asleep during sex amusing him. it wouldn’t be the first time.
a small smile graces your lips as well, and you bury your head in the crook of his neck. you wrap your arms around him, and he does the same, tracing soothing circles against your back.
“tell you what, if you still feel like this first thing in the morning after a good night full of sleep, i’ll gladly scratch that itch,” he mumbles, making your cheeks heat up.
you just nod and hum in response, your lips grazing his neck ever so slightly. it tickles him just a little. “i love you, chuuya,” you say, your voice laced with deep affection and adoration.
“i love you, too,” chuuya says faintly, tightening his grip around you, and you know he won’t let you go for the rest of the night.