Work Text:
Chuuya knew that the past few days had been rough for Dazai, even if the man never said anything. The ginger had memorized the signs of his depression episodes at this point. Well, he was always in one, but learned to recognise when it was really bad. The detective had been refusing to let him over for some nights now, claiming the place was dirty. Chuuya didn’t care, he would clean it without complaint. He gave up asking tonight, letting himself in with the spare key he had.
“Fish fucker!” He called as he entered the apartment, setting a paper bag on the island counter. There were some dishes in the sink, close to growing mold. It meant he ate, but gave up on cleaning. The trash stunk too and the red head could already guess what lay behind the bedroom door. He started towards said room, walking quietly through the hallway. Before he could reach the desired room, hand going toward the handle, a voice called from behind him.
“Chuuya, what are you doing here?” Dazai grumbled from behind the bathroom door, “I never said you could come.”
“I have a spare key, I can come and go as I please.” It was ironic, since he would yell at Dazai for doing the exact same thing. The brunette sighed from the other side, some fabric rustling.
“What are you even doing in there? I swear to god if your-”
“I’m taking a shit chibi! Is that what you wanted to hear?” He snapped, but cackled right after, rendering the ginger speechless. Chuuya shifted awkwardly, growling and crossing his arms.
“Ew you didn't need to say all of that, bastard.” He moved away from the door and back into the kitchen. He took off his leather gloves, setting them on the counter where he would probably forget them. The silence was filled with the sound of running water and the clinking of plates. Chuuya almost jumped out of his skin as his hat was taken off and an arm was loosely placed around him. Dazai’s left hand didn’t hold onto Chuuya as tightly as it normally would after not seeing him.
“Give that back!” The executive whined, reaching for the article of clothing in the brunette right hand. A wicked grin grew on his face.
“I will stick this right under the sink into the moldy dishes!” He teased before the hat was swiped at. He raised it up in the air, and Chuuya was quick to start dragging his arm down. Dazai quickly switched it over to his left hand, holding it up. This time when it was grabbed at, he didn’t fight back, muscle twitching under the other's tight grasp. The ginger huffed and set the hat over his gloves placed earlier.
“Have you eaten today?” he asked as he finished up with the dishes, drying his hands. Dazai waved him off with one hand.
“Of course I did! I’m not some kind of toddler!”
“Oh really? Then what was it?” The brunette looked down to his lover, unable to bring himself to lie, even if it was something so simple.
“I’m sorry it was just coffee-”
“Knew it,” Chuuya huffed, going to the paper bag on the counter, “That’s why I got Kani-Tama on the way for you.”
“Crab omelet! Darling you really know the way to my heart~” He coo’d, bending down to brush his left set of fingers under the shorter man’s chin and kiss his cheek. Instinctively, the red head smacked the hand away, noticing Dazai flinched back more than usual, even a pain expression flashing on his face. Chuuya studied him for a moment, slowly handing the food box over.
“And you need to drink some water,” he commented, “Just go sit down.”
“What a bossy puppy I have,” Dazai muttered on the way to the couch. He actually started eating, because he knew it would be shoved down his throat otherwise. A glass of water was soon placed beside him as a warm body sat next to him. Dazai continued to eat as Chuuya went on about his day. He talked about meetings, dumb subordinates and stupid things the boss said. The detective added a comment here and there as he finished eating. He drank some of the water before laying back against the arm rest, motioning Chuuya to come closer. With slight insults, the ginger moved to lay on top of the other man, head to his chest. The brunette adjusted his legs stiffly, keeping the weight off areas near his hips. The ginger put an arm around his back, grabbing hold of his hand and pressing a kiss to the side of it. It was the tender love they both secretly liked, though would never admit it. Chuuya quietly interlocked fingers, rubbing his thumb in circles. His eyes then moved to the usual bandages that covered his arms. He never paid much attention to the exact details of how it was wrapped, but it was definitely tight. His skin was stretched to match it.
“Dazai, isn’t that a little tight?” He asked while tracing a finger along the edge, “It has to be painful.” The man pulled his arm back slightly in defense.
“No? Don’t get all stressed out on me now,” the brunette tried to joke. Chuuya caught his wrist before it was pulled away fully. He turned it over. There was a noticeable bulge under the bandages that bent under his touch. It was squishy, something similar to gauze. The ginger’s expression fell immediately as he sat up, pulling the arm with him. Dazai sat up as well, getting anxious under the eyes that were on him. He put his left arm that wasn’t being touched behind him before it could be gotten ahold of.
“What happened?” Chuuya interrogated with irritation with an undertone of real concern.
“An injury at work.”
“Did you take care of it properly? Disinfect it? Is there anything else I should know about?” Dazai shook his head, trying to take his hand back.
“Yosano cleaned it out, it’s fine I promise.” Chuuya didn’t believe it. He was one of the only people that could read Dazai more than anyone else. It didn’t fly past him that his left arm was being hidden behind his back.
“Show me the other wrist.” He wasn’t asking anymore, it was a demand. The brunette laughed.
“Slug it’s okay! Just some work injuries that have been taken care of, don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” He said with a smile. The atmosphere quickly switched around as Chuuya leaped forward, attempting to snatch the hidden arm. In the process, his grip slipped into a claw at the front of the arm he was holding. Dazai hissed through his teeth, the gauze underneath being shifted and dented to the side.
“Shit I’m sorry-” Chuuya gasped, stopping himself from trying to get the other arm. Dazai backed up, trying to pull out from under the ginger.
“Get off me,” He whispered, keeping his right arm turned away. Many emotions passed through the mismatched eyes of his lover. The red head then held his hands out.
“Let me look please,” he offered gently.
“Drop it already,” Dazai huffed, scooting further away. He turned his right arm to look at the damage. Blood was seeping through the pristine white coverings.
“Baby I’m sorry-” Chuuya tried to say, “Let me help you clean it up please.” Dazai was getting irritated, but wasn't showing it. It came off as disinterest instead.
“Can you fuck off?” He asked with a little more force. He finally pulled his left hand out to put pressure on the wound, but it wasn’t strong and hardly held on to.
“Can you explain that?” The executive scoffed, gesturing at the left arm, “You’ve been weak with it all night! You hardly held onto me, could fight the hat back, now you can’t even clot your own injury! Clearly something happened that fucked with you’re nerves, so let me look at it before I send you to a hospital.”
“You’re not sending me to a fucking hospital,” he growled under his breath. Chuuya wasn’t having it, breaking away from the couch with absurd speed. He went into the bathroom, quietly cursing. Dazai expected him to come out with a medkit. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“What the fuck is this?” The ginger snapped, leaning around the corner with a trash can in his hand, showing the open side to the one on the couch. Inside was a mound of bloody tissues.
“If it was ‘just a work injury’ and ‘taken care of’ why is it still bleeding!”
“Because it reopened,” Dazai said with little confidence, “I bumped it on something.”
“Then why won’t you let me see?!” There was no response. Chuuya flipped around back into the bathroom, returning with a medkit this time. He dropped it on the coffee table, reaching for the bloody arm. The detective held his arm away.
“Dazai. You know I will not leave until I help you. Clearly something is painful, and you will get upset and let me do something eventually.” He wasn’t wrong, especially the sting in his left. Reluctantly, he handed his right arm over, heart racing as the bandages were undone.
The cuts were wide and deep, obviously not caused by another person, unless he was held down and tortured. The ones Chuuya accidentally clawed into were bleeding profusely as he held gauze to it.
“Why didn’t you talk to me?” He gruffed, preparing an alcohol pad. The question wasn’t answered, only a sharp hiss when the cuts stung from the cleaning. Chuuya removed the bandages that were up to his elbows, not commenting on a single thing he saw. He expected it to be littered with scars, who wouldn’t? He then wrapped bandages over gauze on the section that was breathing.
“Wounds need air to scab and heal,” he muttered, knowing Dazai wasn’t pleased about his arms in the open. As a compromise, the ginger rolled down his sleeve that would loosely cover everything while still giving it air. He then tried to reach the left arm.
“It’s fine” Dazai quickly defended, watching the shorter man hold his hand out.
“Squeeze it. Go ahead and prove you’re fine.” Slowly, the taller man put his hand over the others, curling his fingers around his. He could hardly squeeze, and Chuuya knew he wasn’t just being gentle. He slowly turned Dazai’s arm around so the forearm faced up. He could feel tension radiating off him as he started to unwrap the bandages. He only went two times around before freezing.
“What are those?” Irritated skin, tiny puncture wounds in the center of his wrist, “Are those needle marks?” The brunette was dead silent now, averting his gaze entirely. Chuuya’s own eyes burned holes into his head.
“Morphine,” he muttered, “I’ve been taking it to… go deeper.”
“And now you went too far and are numb, aren’t you?” A simple nod answered the question. Chuuya continued to unwrap, almost fainting at what must have been ‘too deep’. Under the gauze was some he never wanted to see on his partner, let alone self inflicted.
Without missing a beat he said, “that needs stitches, like… now.”
“I’m not going to a hospital-”
“So I’m just supposed to let this happen!? Je ne te laisserai pas mourir.” I’m not letting you die on me.
“Chuuya, I’m not going to die, I’ll feel my arm again in like a day.”
“And what if you don’t? What if this is the only time to repair the nerve damage, and I let you sleep it off!” He was panicked, the most panic Dazai had seen in him before.
With tears in his eyes, hands trembling, Chuuya stated firmly, “You are going to the hospital. You’re going because I love you, and even if you refuse, I will drag your ass there, or call an ambulance. You are going.”